If Wishes were Ponies . . . .

by tkepner

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Crossover, Alternate Universe, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Harry Potter, Adventure
Length: 560603

Harry Potter, after a beating by Dudley and friends — with the help of a real gang member — wishes he had somewhere safe to go, and starts crawling home. He ends up in Equestria. The CMC find him. A year later, an owl brings his Hogwarts’ letter!

Harry Potter, after a beating by Dudley and friends wishes he had somewhere safe to go, and starts crawling home. He ends up in Equestria. The young Cutie Mark Crusaders find him. A year later, a Hogwarts owl unleashes the CMC, Harry, and Equestria upon wizarding Britain! And adorable cute magic-wielding ponies upon the rest of the world.

Copyedited by gerandakis. Excellent cover art by Mix-up.
Made Featured Stories starting Ch. 18, Jun 25, 2018!
Made Front Page Popular Stories – Jun 11 (15), July 10-13, 16-17, 19-21, 23 (24-29), Aug 1-2 (32-33), 9-10, 13-14, 22-23, 24-25 (35-38, 41-42), Sept. 14 (49), Oct. 5 (57), 2018!

Inspired by Dogger807’s hilarious story, “Magic School Days,” here on FiMfiction. While there is humour (and tree-sap) in this story, that is not its only focus.

Wow, Sir Chaos Omega made a TV-Tropes page for the story! Thanks!

Published on the FiMfiction website with the kind forbearance of the copyright owners of My Little Pony (Hasbro) and the Harry Potter series (Scholastic Press).

The timeline for “My Little Pony” is messed up. That is, if you look closely, the order of the shows as aired is out of order of their logical sequence. Evidence: in Swarm of the Century (#10) we see the dresses that Rarity makes in Suited for Success (#14) — so unless Rarity time-travelled, #14 should take place before #10! Also, in The Ticket Master (#3), the other five seem to know Twilight and Spike quite well, yet in Boast Busters (#6) they don’t seem to know Twilight at all.

With careful attention to details such as those, you can put the three years of episodes prior to Princess Twilight Sparkle (#65, Season Four) into a two-year stretch of time. If you work hard enough, you can even squeeze them down to one five-season stretch of Summer to Summer.

I used the two-year seven-part timeline mapped out by deviantart’s tobyandmavisforever (do a Google search for “tobyandmavisforever mlp timeline” as the fastest way to find them). Thus, Harry arrives in Equestria shortly after the Crystal Empire two-part episode, and Twilight and Spike have been in Ponyville just under a year even though the Crystal Empire episodes start the third year of My Little Pony.

Published 2018-04-11 23:40:05 UTC
Last updated 2019-06-06 19:16:38 UTC

2 — The Great Escape, Pt 2.

The next thing Harry, knew he was waking up in the softest bed he had ever felt. It felt more like a cloud than a bed, actually. Was he dead and this was heaven? It had to be — he wasn’t in severe pain like he should be after the beating Dudley and his gang had delivered. He did have a few aches and pains, but nothing like he would have expected from his cousin and gang. Well, it couldn’t be Heaven then, as he couldn’t believe that Heaven would allow pain to disgrace the experience. And that meant he wasn’t going to see his parents. He still was stuck in this miserable life.

He sighed.

But for the moment, he just wallowed in the feeling of not waking up in a cramped cupboard on a rickety and uncomfortable camp bed in horrible pain.

There seemed to be a light in his face, so he decided to roll over.

That was a bit of a challenge, as he discovered. He ended up thoroughly tangled in the sheets, but at least he was facing away from the bright light. He sighed contentedly and tried to go back to sleep. He’d never had that chance with the Dursleys. His Aunt always woke him at dawn to fix breakfast during the week and expected him to wake himself on the weekends — she didn’t trust him with an alarm clock, she had said, and didn’t want to waste the money for something she knew he would break. And promising he would take good care of it earned him a hard cuff upside the head and no dinner.

If breakfast wasn’t waiting when Uncle came downstairs on the weekends there was hell to pay, and Harry was always given the bill. His recovering from a bad beating was no excuse to slack-off, in their opinion. He had learned to always wake just before he needed to. And, today, he didn’t need to.

۸-_-۸

Princess Celestia stepped elegantly from her chariot, leaving her mid-morning raspberry snack-bowl behind. She was a pure-white pony who towered over all her subjects, easily three times an average pony’s height, with over ten times the mass. The six Pegasi Guardponies were doing their best to stifle their heaving sides in a vain effort to show their ruler that they were unaffected by the flying sprint they had made from Canterlot to Ponyville pulling the Princess’s coach.

She offered a soft, “Thank you,” and nodded as she gracefully stepped past them, tactfully ignoring the sweat dripping off their sides. She could have made the trip faster herself, but it always depressed her little ponies so much when she showed she didn’t need their assistance.

Another dozen were spread around her, keeping the civilians at a respectful distance, not that there were any in the area. It was, after all, a normal day in Ponyville and the hospital didn’t attract crowds except in dire emergencies. And the news of her planned arrival hadn’t been made public.

On the other hoof, every window on this side of the building had one or two ponies observing. For the residents, it was always an honour for her to show up in Ponyville. There were many towns larger than Ponyville which had never had a visit from their Princess. But Princess Celestia had visited Ponyville several times in the last year, and the little ponies were proud of one of their rulers’ attention to their little dale.

“Captain Armor, what more do you have for me?” she said to the white-coated unicorn stallion waiting outside the hospital, her soft voice making him shiver slightly.

“The unicorn colt was found at the edge of the Everfree forest yesterday in the late afternoon by three fillies. They were in their treehouse after school, in Sweet Apple Acres, section Sierra forty-two, when the Pegasus filly noticed what looked like an injured deer near the forest at the edge of the orchard. Applejack, the mare in charge of the farm, was able to show us where they found him. She had already explored a short way into the forest, following the trail the colt had left as he dragged himself to the farm. Four guards were able to backtrack his trail for almost half a mile into the forest before they lost it. When I arrived this morning I sent a decade with an experienced woodspony, but they were unable to track the trail any farther. The rain late last night possibly obliterated some of the signs of his trail. No trace of any other ponies were discovered, nor was there any evidence of whatever injured the colt.” The two of them walked to the hospital doors.

“The unicorn colt was being held unconscious by the doctors until your arrival, to keep things simple and to allow him sufficient time to recover. They cancelled the spell when your chariot was spotted and he should be waking soon.

“He is severely malnourished due to chronic starvation and somepony has savagely beaten him, leaving him with damaged kidneys and a crushed testicle — his injuries were not inflicted by an animal as there are no bite marks nor any claw marks. He was near the point of death when he was brought in.

“The fillies no doubt saved his life. If they hadn’t noticed him he probably wouldn’t have survived the night, especially that close to the Everfree.

“His recovery has been unusually rapid, however. Most of his minor injuries are already healed, His kidneys and testicle will be by the end of the day.”

The Princess stopped at the doors and looked down at him. “His kidneys would normally take at least a week, and the other should be permanent without extensive and powerful healing magic,” she said in mild surprise.

“Yes, the doctors say it is absolutely certain that he is using his own magic to aid in his recovery, something which has never been seen before in a unicorn pony so young nor anypony when they were unconscious. If this is common for him it might explain how he has survived his many past injuries.”

She nodded in understanding, and said, “Past injuries. One of the reasons I am here.”

The Captain of her guard opened the doors for her as she entered the building.

The Ponyville Hospital had not been designed with Alicorn Princesses in mind, so she had to duck her head and crouch slightly to go through the doors. Once inside she had to keep her head level with her withers as they were only a hoof-length or so from the ceilings inside. She expected that should she ever visit this hospital again she would find all the doors rebuilt to accommodate her easily. A larger town would build a new, higher-ceilinged hospital to avoid the embarrassment of forcing their beloved ruler almost to crawl on her knees in order to enter!

Doctor Well Heart was waiting for her just inside, bowing deeply with the rest of the reception area staff, as she approached. He and the others looked chagrined at seeing her undignified entry to their hospital.

She rolled her eyes. “Rise, my little ponies.” Naturally, whenever she entered a room, everypony bowed. Some even prostrated themselves on the floor. It was so tiresome. And it wasted so much time. After a thousand years she knew the futility of trying to convince her subjects that such acts were unnecessary in all except the most formal of occasions.

Nervously, the Doctor said, “The patient is this way, Your Highness.”

Considering how tall she was, that wasn’t an honorary title.

He started down the corridor ahead of her. “As I mentioned in my report,” he swallowed, “the colt has many scars under his fur and most of his major bones — skull, scapula, femur, pelvis — it would be simpler to list the exceptions — have been broken at least once. He shows signs of chronic starvation and poor bone development. Body-fat ratio is almost zero.” He sighed. “All told, I think his condition is not something new and is something he has lived with for a long time. He appears to be only four, but could be as old as five, six, or seven.” He shook his head sadly, “It’s just criminal what the ponies responsible have done to him.

“Anyway, we’ve been using a feeding tube so he is properly hydrated now. He should have gained a bit of weight from the feedings, but the extra calories are disappearing as fast as we can get them into him. We think his phenomenal recovery rate is linked to that. In any case, at least he hasn’t lost any additional weight.”

He stopped beside a closed door with two guards, one either side of it. They moved out of her way, the second one grabbing the door handle in his magic and opening the door. She again had to crouch down to enter the room.

It was a standard single-bed hospital room. She stared at the pitifully small figure huddled on the bed, a neatly arranged blanket covering most of his body but leaving his head and withers exposed. His cheeks were sunken, his bones vividly outlined, and his coat dull, clearly showing the signs that he hadn’t eaten well for some time.

۸-_-۸

Harry woke again as he heard a door open and the clanking of people entering — why were they wearing metal shoes? Two sets were evidently bigger than the others as their steps were deeper in sound from the larger shoes and heavier weight. And touched floor at much longer time intervals — obviously taller with a longer stride and not simply extraordinarily fat like his Uncle.

Harry was not a fool. That had been beaten out of him years ago. He kept his eyes closed and his face relaxed as if he were deeply asleep. It was important to get as much information as possible before the others (at home it was the Dursleys) discovered he was listening — or in this case, discover that he was awake. Knowing what was going on and what to expect before anyone noticed him had saved him from many a beating from the Dursleys.

“And this is the poor colt?”

“Yes, my Princess.”

“Oh, dear. I was hoping that your reports exaggerated a bit.”

“Unfortunately, no, my Princess. Much as I might so wish it,” came Doctor Well Heart’s response. “If anything, the reports fail to disclose the seriousness of the issues.”

“He looks as if he has never had a decent meal,” Harry heard her say as her deep voice came up to the side of his bed. “He’s almost all just skin and bones.” He heard her step closer.

Her voice came out softly as she said, “Open your eyes, little one. I know you’re awake.”

Damn.

He opened his eyes and had to blink several times to understand what he was seeing. Directly in front of him were two fur-coated knees. Fur-coated? Were they leggings of some kind? How weird.

Beyond them he could see an open door flanked by two small horses wearing golden armour with matching golden helmets. And the helmets had plumes atop them like the ancient Roman soldiers used to have. Where were the men who rode them? And why were horses in the hospital?

He turned his head and looked up. And up. This was not someone wearing fur-coated leggings. This was a giant non-human monster of some kind. On the monster’s . . . chest? . . . was a gold band of some kind with a purple, diamond-shaped gem on it. Above that were shoulders so tall that they almost brushed the ceiling. She was easily four-times as tall as he was, making her at least fifteen feet tall — that meant this room had ridiculously high ceilings.

And it still wasn’t high enough for her. Her neck was far longer than a human’s and her face — her eyes were huge, each as big as both his hands together, with ears like a dog or cat on top and a long nose that was more of a muzzle, again like a cat. She was far too tall to stand upright and so she bent her neck low to keep from bumping her head into the ceiling, with her enormous mouth mere centimetres above his ear.

Her head was huge, he thought, as big as his entire body. Her maw was gigantic, more than big enough to snap off his head in a single bite and swallow it. But what grabbed his attention was the giant spike of a horn, with an indecently sharp point, coming out of her head and now hovering over him.

She could easily spit him like a pig on it and dine on his dangling arms and legs like some kind of unspeakable, mobile feast.

Absolutely, definitely, not human. Not even close to human.

She opened her monstrous maw for the first nibble.

Harry did what he thought any nine-almost-ten-year-old would do in such a situation.

He screamed in mortal terror and flung himself off the bed away from her. The window was too far for him to attempt a jump from the bed, and once he was off the bed he was too close to the window to build up enough speed to make it completely through and jump high enough to reach it. That meant he would miss the window and hit the wall anyway.

He used his legs against the bed’s frame as he launched himself at desperate speed towards the outside wall. He wasn’t sure if he could, but he was definitely intending on going straight through it. He just hoped it wasn’t a brick wall. And that he was on the ground floor. If not, well he would worry about that later.

It didn’t work. He slammed into the wall with a loud crunching noise that made every pony in the room wince. He rebounded from that wall, staggering. He next flung himself with reckless abandon at the wall that stood across from the foot of his bed. He twisted his body so that his other shoulder took point. He hit with maximum concentration of force. He almost made it through that wall. There were the sounds of the wallboard shattering and its supports breaking. That noise covered the sound of any injuries he might have suffered. Through the new cracks in the wall he could see the startled expressions of the inhabitants of the other room — all horses.

He would need to back up all the way to the bed for another charge to break through the wall. He doubted the monster would allow time for that. He couldn’t escape this way.

With a tenacity and determination gifted to Harry by many years of Dudley’s “Harry Hunting,” Harry looked towards the door as he fell back to the floor. The monster was only now starting to turn towards him and giving him a small opportunity at scooting between her legs and into the corridor. Unfortunately, even as he gathered his feet underneath himself for a third frantic charge to freedom, one of the horses by the door was already moving to block his escape route. He might have been able to dodge through the monster’s legs, but the much smaller horse could easily block and catch him.

He was trapped, just as Dudley and his gang had trapped him once before at school. This time there were not any convenient roofs nearby for a wind magically to carry him up. He didn’t try to stand up. He closed his eyes and dearly wished with all his might that he was back at the edge of that forest.

With a distinct POP, Harry disappeared from the hospital room.

۸-~-۸

Harry fell to the ground. He stared around himself at the grass, then craned his neck up to see where he was. Trees were not far away in both directions. On one side was the dark forest he had dragged himself through, on the other were clearly orchard trees. Miracle of miracles, he was right back where he had been when the girls had first found him!

He needed to get away from here for they surely would search this place again to find him. He braced his arms preparing to push himself to his feet. That was when he noticed that his arms were covered in red fur and instead of hands he had hooves. With a lump in his throat that felt like his heart, he looked at his legs to see the same thing. Still not breathing from the shock, he turned his head sharply and looked down at his side. He saw a field of red fur with gold-coloured splashes and a horse’s tail that was a solid black.

Horrified, he screamed again. He struggled to his feet, or hooves in this case, only to collapse back on the ground screaming at the unexpected pain as his broken shoulders, cracked ribs, and over-strained muscles failed to support his weight. What had happened to him? Had he died and then been reincarnated as a horse? Was he in Hell? How would he put on his trousers without hands?

He looked around wildly and saw nothing but the grassy field and the apple orchard in the distance. He dropped his head back down to the ground and just panted, hyperventilating, panic-stricken and too stunned to do more — both from his extreme exertions, magical shock, discovering his form, and the pain from his newest injuries. He passed out.

۸-_-۸

For a moment there was bemused silence in the hospital room. The Princess looked at the shallow colt-shaped depression in the plaster on the wooden outside wall and then the colt-shaped almost-hole in the other wall. She sighed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a reaction like that to my presence.” She turned her head to look at the flabbergasted doctor. Dejectedly, she said, “Do you think it was something I said?” Sighing, she awkwardly started backing out of the room.

۸-ꞈ-۸

—Omake —

non-canon story stuff I couldn't resist — author

He turned his head and looked up. And up. This was not someone wearing fur-coated leggings. This was a giant non-human monster of some kind. On the monster’s . . . chest? . . . was a gold band of some kind with a purple, diamond-shaped gem on it. Above that were shoulders so tall that they almost brushed the ceiling. She was easily four-times as tall as he was, making her at least fifteen feet tall — that meant this room had ridiculously high ceilings. And it still wasn’t high enough for her. She was far too tall to stand upright and so she bent her neck low to keep from bumping her head into the ceiling, with her enormous mouth mere centimetres away from his ear.

Her head was huge, he thought, as big as his entire body. Her maw was gigantic, more than big enough to snap off his head in a single bite and swallow it. But what grabbed his attention was the giant spike of a horn, with an indecently sharp point, coming out of her head and now hovering over him.

She could easily spit him like a pig on it and dine on his dangling arms and legs like some kind of unspeakable mobile feast.

She opened her monstrous maw for the first nibble, her teeth gleaming an unholy bright white, with faint traces of red lining them at the gums — blood from her previous victims, no doubt.

Harry did what he thought any normal nine-almost-ten-year-old would do in such a situation.

He screamed in mortal terror and flung himself off the bed away from her. He used his legs against the bed’s frame as he launched himself at desperate speed towards the outside wall. He wasn’t sure if he could, but he was definitely intending on going straight through it. He just hoped it wasn’t a brick wall.

The window was too far for him to attempt a jump from the bed, and once he was off the bed he was too close to the window to build up enough speed and jump high enough to reach it. That meant he would miss the window and hit the wall anyway. He hoped he was on the ground floor. If not, well he would worry about that later.

He slammed into the wall with a loud crunching noise that made every pony in the room winch. They then stared in disbelief out the window at the rapidly disappearing colt. His legs were churning so fast they were circular blurs.

One of the guards softly said, amazed and impressed, “I’ve never seen anypony run so far so fast . . . and on twolegs! I can barely balance on my rear legs and take three steps without falling . . . but look at him go!”

Pinkie Pie poked her head out from under the bed, looked at the perfect profile outline of a colt in the wall, spiky mane and tail, and all, and disapprovingly said, “Hey, cartoonish behaviour is my shtick!”

For a moment there was bemused silence in the hospital room. Then the Princess sighed, “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a reaction like that to my presence.” She turned her head to look at the flabbergasted doctor. Dejectedly, she said, “Do you think it was something I said?” She looked back out the window to where the colt had vanished around a curve and frowned, thinking a moment. “Maybe he doesn’t like raspberries.” she murmured. Sighing, she awkwardly started backing out of the room.

۸-~-۸

3 — Lost in Space

“Scootaloo, get down!”

“Why?”

He was lying on his back with his head turned to the right, Harry realized.

“You’ll get us in trouble!”

“Neigh. No one’ll care. See, the guard over there hasn’t even blinked.”

The voices were familiar, as was the name.

“Doctor Heart certainly will! Now, get down.”

“No.”

Oh. He slowly remembered, these were the voices of the ones that had found him and taken him to the hospital. Considering he wasn’t feeling hard ground, or even grass, underneath him, he was probably back in the hospital. In the background he faintly could hear sawing and hammering. He wondered what they were building.

“I’ll make you!”

“Just try!”

There was the sound of hooves on a wooden floor, a moment of silence, and then the bed shook slightly as if someone had jumped on it.

Harry’s head felt fuzzy, almost like he had a cold. And there was an unusual pressure on his forehead. He assumed it was a bandage.

Hooves! That’s right! They were horses! He was a horse! For a moment he almost succumbed to panic and started breathing heavily. He realized immediately the danger in doing that. Any sudden moves or changes in what he was already doing would alert everyone that he was awake. Especially if they had any kind of electrical monitors on him. Fortunately, the squabbling girls masked any noise he made.

Scootaloo said, “Hey! Quit shoving, Apple Bloom!”

“Then get down,” came the growled response.

Harry knew he had to remain calm, he had to delay them realizing he was awake while he tried to understand what was happening. He had years of experience doing that with the Dursleys, listening around a corner to see what kind of mood his Aunt and Uncle were in before they saw him. It had saved him many a beating to know he should make himself scarce for the day or evening, or at least as unobtrusive as possible.

There was some grunting sounds, then Scootaloo saying, “Woah!”

“Hey, le’ go!” said Apple Bloom, followed by a thud.

“Ow,” Apple Bloom moaned softly.

“Ha! Serves you right for pushing me off,” Scootaloo said.

“Geroff me, you blockhead!” was the angry reply.

Who am I kidding? Harry thought. He hadn’t a clue as to what was going on! The only thing he knew for sure was that the three voices he had heard, these three girls, had been trying to help him. And his reaction the other day was silly. Why would someone bring him to a hospital just to let a monster eat him? And who called a monster Princess?

There came a heartfelt sigh from his left, startling him. “And there they go, again.”

It was the third girl of the triad.

“Ow,” “Hey!” “Le’ go!” and the sounds of the other two scuffling came to him.

“Oh, you’re awake!” said the one behind him. He heard the clip-clop of her hooves as she went down the length of the bed, across the bottom, and then back up to face his head. Darn it! He hadn’t managed to fool her. How had she known?

He remained absolutely still, an easy task after years of training from the Dursleys.

“You can’t fool me,” she said. “I know you’re awake, I can see your ear swivelling around listening to those two idiots brawling again.”

His ears. Now that she mentioned it he could feel his left ear twitch every once in a while. Right. He was a horse, now, wasn’t he? His ears weren’t stuck to the sides of his head, they could move. He would have to learn to control them. He would worry about how he ended up here later, for now he needed to survive. The same for why he was a horse. At least they didn’t think he was a monster!

“And . . . now it’s lying down, so admit it, you’re awake!”

He sighed softly and opened his eyes to a small slit to look at her. She had a white coat with a two-tone purple mane. Unusually, though, her eyes were huge, taking up most of her face! She also had a small horn with a spiral cut in it sticking out of her forehead. Did that make her a unicorn?

She pumped one hoof into the air, exclaiming softly, “YES, I knew it!” in response to his tacit admission. Behind her he could see a soldier horse standing beside the door and pretending to be a statue like the Queen’s Guards at Buckingham Palace always did. He also had a horn, but much bigger as fit his larger size. His eyes were a bit smaller in proportion to his head, but still were at least as big as a large apple!

Oddly, the door he was standing beside was different from Harry’s other room. The wall that one would normally expect to see above a door was gone, with new, unpainted moulding now framing it up to the ceiling. The door itself looked like someone had glued an extra piece onto it to make it fit the newly enlarged doorway. The monster . . . Princess . . . wouldn’t have to crawl through the door the next time she came to see him. If he was still here.

The girl horse stared at him intently, “What’s your name? Mine’s Sweetie Belle.”

After a moment considering the benefits of playing mute — there really didn’t appear to be any — he said “Harry Potter.”

“Hahry Potter,” she repeated slowly, sounding out his name. “You’re looking much better than yesterday.” She said critically, turning her head a bit sideways. “That’s the second time you almost died. You had us really worried.”

Suddenly there were two more horses propping themselves up against the bed by their forelegs. “Ooooh, he’s awake!” said the orange one with a very ruffled purple mane.

“I’m fine,” Harry said reflexively, despite the evidence to the contrary.

After a moment’s study, a yellow one with a red mane and pink bow — the bow now askew and her mane as ruffled as the other girl’s — said, “Yer pretty tough, ya know. Ah’ve never heard of a pony making a dent in the walls like ya did.”

“His name’s Hahry Potter,” Sweetie Belle informed the others.

Then came a barrage of questions: “What happened to ya in the Everfree?” “Who beat you up?” “Did you fight a manticore?” “Why’d you run away?” “Was anyone with ya in the forest?” Did you fight a timber wolf?” “Whar do ya live” “Who taught you to teleport?” “Do ya have yer Cutie Mark yet?” “Was it a chimera you fought?” “What’s your cutie mark?” “What grade are you in?” “How’d you get into the forest?” “Can you teach me to teleport?”

The other two stopped and looked at Sweetie Belle.

“Really?” said Apple Bloom.

Sweetie shrugged her shoulders.

They all looked back at Harry.

“Um,” He said. “I, uh, I was alone in the forest. And, um, I was trying to get home.”

After an uncomfortable pause, he added, “What’s teleport?”

“Horseapples!” muttered Sweetie Belle under her breath.

The girls didn’t notice but Harry did as the soldier standing beside the door behind them opened it a crack and said something to someone outside, then quietly closed the door and pretended to be a statue again.

“Do you have a cutie mark? Doctor Well Heart and Nurse Redheart wouldn’t tell us. They just looked at each other funny and said we’d find out later.”

Harry looked at the three horses and frowned.

“What’s a cutie mark?”

They were aghast at his ignorance. And quickly told him that a Cutie Mark on your butt told everyone what your talent was. The thing that you would be best and happiest at doing.

Really? What was his talent, then? Cooking, cleaning, and gardening? It was what he was good at — but he hated doing it.

Harry had to wonder if he had died in the forest or if he was in a coma at a hospital.

However, he had heard that you can’t dream pain and he had certainly felt the pain when he had reappeared in the forest escaping that monster/princess.

He tried to move his arm and discovered it wouldn’t. He turned his head and looked, afraid he would see straps or chains restraining him, holding him down, and stopping him from escaping again. What he did see was a cast reaching from his shoulder half-way to his elbow, with his arm . . . leg . . . held suspended by a set of bars, ropes, and weights over the bed. His other arm was similarly constrained.

Seeing where he was looking, Scootaloo said, “Oh, yeah, your withers are broken on both sides. You hit those walls pretty hard.” She looked impressed. “The doctor said you’ll be wearing them casts for a week or so as the bones heal.” The other two nodded in agreement.

Apple Bloom frowned and mumbled, “Ain’t never heard of bones healing that fast, though.”

He thought he might as well be chained to the bed, he certainly wasn’t going anywhere like this.

Harry stared at them. Even his limited knowledge of hospitals, mainly from listening in his cupboard while the Dursleys watched Casualty on Saturday evenings, told him that they don’t usually let three unrelated, as in non-family, girls . . . fillies . . . into a patient’s room. Especially not if there’s a constable guarding the door! Finally he said, “Why? Why are you here?” He glanced at the constable worriedly.

“Oh, the Princess said that if’n we were here when ya woke up maybe ya wouldn’t panic and try to run through a wall again, seeing as how we’re the ones that found ya to begin with. And that since we’re only a bit older than you, ya won’t think we’re out to hurt ya,” Apple Bloom explained.

Clearly, neither they nor the Princess had ever had a run-in with Dudley, his gang, or other bastards of that ilk. He envied them for that naivety.

Apple Bloom added darkly, “Although ma sister did say something about us causing co-lateral damage.”

He shrunk in on himself slightly at remembering the rest of the events from yesterday. Maybe that was what the hammering was about, they were fixing the damage he did. His uncle would be most displeased about the bill for that!

“Yeah,” added Apple Bloom, “The Princess was real worried about ya.”

Hesitantly, he asked, “She’s not gonna eat me is she?”

The girls looked shocked at the thought. The soldier by the door broke his impassive expression enough to give Harry a look of sheer disbelief.

“What in Equestria gave you that idea?” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “She’s a pony, we don’t eat meat!”

Biggest damn pony he had ever seen! And horses did too eat meat! He’d seen a magazine article about how the Tibetans fed their horses blood-soaked hay to get them protein during the long winters, that Alexander the Great’s horse, Bucephalus, was a notorious man-eater, and many other terrifying examples.

“Except maybe fish every once in a while,” added Scootaloo. “Pegasi need to ’cause of all their flying.”

Ha! He knew it!

Scootaloo hopped up onto the bed. He stared at her small wings that buzzed like a large hummingbird to help her. Was she a Pegasus? First unicorns, and now a Pegasus? What was next? A hippocampus? A centaur? How about a dragon or two?

The girls stared at him as he returned the favour.

Before they could say anything else there was a knock on the door. The soldier faced the door and lowered his head slightly to point his horn at whomever-it-was that was coming in as the door slowly opened. It was the doctor that Harry had seen before. The soldier stepped back, but still kept a close eye on the new horse . . . pony.

He smiled broadly at Harry, “Ah, good afternoon! How are you feeling today? I’m Doctor Well Heart. I saw you when you first came in, although I doubt you remember me.”

“I’m fine.”

Scootaloo quickly jumped down as the other two fillies dropped their hooves to the floor and shuffled out of his way.

Like the soldier, he had a horn. Harry was amazed to see a slight glow surround it as the blanket covering him was pulled down to his hips, but not so far as to be immodest. The stethoscope around the doctor’s neck floated up to his ears and the other end glided into position against Harry’s chest. At the same time a clipboard floated up beside the doctor’s head where he could easily see it as he worked. For the next several minutes the doctor moved the stethoscope around Harry with the occasional comments of “take a deep breath” and “breathe normally.”

Harry felt more than a bit self-conscious at realizing he wasn’t wearing any clothes as the little fillies watched, but then he realized neither were they wearing any clothes — they all had fur, including himself. In any case, he saw that while his fore-shoulders had casts covering them down to his elbows, everything else below that seemed to be perfectly fine. He spent the time studying his new form. His coat was red and gold — which was more predominant was hard to tell. His hair . . . his mane . . . was a solid black. He remembered his tail was also black, but as the blanket currently covered it he couldn’t tell for sure if that memory was correct.

The girls had moved to the other side of the bed and were whispering to each other.

Finally, the doctor stepped back. “Well, everything seems to be healing up nicely. In fact you’re doing much better than I expected, your cuts have all healed up with almost no scarring. The casts will need to remain for two weeks, maybe less, if things progress the way they have for the last two days. Your weight is distressingly low, so we’re going to be working on that!”

The doctor sighed.

“Now then, for the other stuff.” He gave Harry a sympathetic look. “First, what’s your name? I can’t just call you ‘the colt in Room Eighteen!’” He gave a nervous laugh.

“Harry Potter.”

The doctor made a note on his clipboard. “Excellent! And how old are you?”

“Nine. I’ll be ten in two months.”

The doctor, and the girls, stared at Harry. He was far older than they had suspected. In fact, he was older than any of the fillies by a year at least despite being so small.

“Now then, Hahry Potter,” the doctor paused uncertainly, “do you know where your parents are?”

“They’re dead. Died when I was only a year old.”

Apple Bloom suddenly looked sad and propped herself against the bed again while putting her right hoof against his side as if she were trying to console him. The other two simply sat at either side of Apple Bloom and leaned against her.

The doctor nodded slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said although he didn’t look sorry in the slightest. In fact he almost looked relieved. “And who has been taking care of you?”

“I wouldn’t say they’re taking care of me, but I live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin,” Harry said in a flat tone that said ‘don’t ask more.’ The doctor winced at his tone. The fillies looked curious.

“Can you tell me their names?”

Reluctantly, Harry said, “Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley Dursley.”

“Petunia and . . . Ver-none . . . are your aunt and uncle?” the doctor said hesitantly, unused to the foreign sounding name.

Harry nodded.

The doctor frowned darkly and made another note.

“Do you know where they are?”

“Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, although Uncle Vernon is probably at work at Grunnings Drills in London right now.”

Every pony stared at him. “What?” managed the doctor after writing that all down as best he could.

Harry frowned and said, again, slower, “Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.” The doctor made some adjustments to his notes.

At their continued blank looks, he added, “You know, in England.” Their expressions remained the same, so he added, a bit sarcastically, “Right beside the continent Europe and above Africa? In the Atlantic Ocean? The Eastern Hemisphere? Earth?” Incredibly, none of those answers seemed to ring any bells of recognition. Harry rolled his eyes.

Doctor Well Heart looked at his clipboard for a moment, made a few more notes, and then shook his head slightly.

“And that’s where you live as well?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, unhappily. “In the cupboard under the stairs.” He felt his eyes widen. He hadn't meant to say that. If he had had his hands free he would have clapped them over his mouth.

Doctor Well Heart’s eye’s narrowed as he slowly repeated, “In the cupboard under the stairs,” while writing that information down. He paused, staring at what he had just written. He took a deep breath and said, “Well, do you know how you ended up in the Everfree Forest?”

Harry was getting cold chills now — and not because he wasn’t under the blanket anymore — and started shivering. “I was in the woods beside the Little Whinging Playpark. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was, but it was late afternoon and I knew I needed to get back to the house or Uncle Vernon would be mad. They really don’t like it when I’m out after dark. They say it makes them look bad to the neighbours.

“Anyway, I started walking towards the west because the park is a few minutes to the east of where my relatives live. I walked for a long time, and fell down a few times, but then I walked into a field and fell down again. I was way too tired to get up. Then girls found me. You know the rest.”

“And how did you get your injuries?”

Harry looked away. He didn’t want to say anymore, but he knew they wouldn’t stop asking questions. Not that it really mattered. Every time he had told an adult about his relatives, they always asked questions, got angry, and then the next day forgot all about him.

“I fell off the playpark climbing bars,” he said.

Harry had read once that the definition of insanity was doing the exact same thing over and over again and yet being surprised that the results were always exactly the same each time.

He was not insane. This time would be the same as the rest, he knew.

The doctor gave him a disbelieving look. “Climbing bars?” he said incredulously.

“Several times,” Harry added reluctantly.

The doctor added an arched an eyebrow to his expression.

Harry just looked at him. And then he realized that the doctor’s expression wasn’t because he didn’t believe Harry fell off the climbing bars, it was because horses wouldn’t have climbing bars at their playparks. If it weren’t for the casts, Harry would have face-palmed himself.

But then again, these weren’t people, were they? They were horses . . . ponies. Maybe this time it would be different. He sighed heavily.

“My cousin and his gang were playing Harry Hunting and this time they caught me,” Harry mumbled quietly. Unfortunately, the room was so quiet that all could hear him clearly.

The doctor stared at him, both eyebrows raised in shock. “You mean to tell me that your cousin did all that to you?”

Harry looked away nervously. “Him and his friends.”

“And they’ve done this before?” he asked darkly.

Harry looked away, but when he looked back the Doctor was just staring at him.

Harry sighed and said in a low voice, “Yes, but only when they could trap me or I wasn’t quick enough in running away. I should have been faster. It’s my fault they trapped me.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes as he stared at Harry. After a minute of silence, the doctor shook his head again. “Well, that’s all for now.” He looked at his clipboard again. “Okay, I’ll have the nurse bring you something to eat. I want you to eat as much as possible. You need to gain a lot of weight before you’re at where you should be.” He turned to the three fillies. “Fillies, I want you to make sure he eats. I know you just got out of school and want a snack, so there’ll be a little extra for you three as well. Don’t filch any off his plate, okay?”

They nodded earnestly.

He pulled the blanket back up to Harry’s shoulders with that weird glow around his horn. With a last look at Harry, and a shake of his head, the doctor turned and left the room, closing the door carefully behind himself.

Harry could hear some yelling outside in the corridor, but not the words. It sounded like the doctor was very mad at someone. Harry thought it wasn’t him the doctor was mad at — he had seemed quite pleasant when talking with Harry — but you never can tell with adults. Harry shrank as far down into the blanket as his casts would let him get, just in case.

۸-ꞈ-۸

5 — Dazed and Confused

Harry’s rumbling stomach woke him the next morning at the break of dawn, the normal time he woke so he could prepare breakfast for the thrice-damned Dursleys.

Here in the hospital, though, it was the staff who prepared breakfast. And at this early hour he could expect to wait for some time before anyone . . . anypony . . . brought him his breakfast. He stared at the guard by his room’s door and wondered if it really was the same guard from yesterday. Had they made the guy stand there all day and all night? That didn’t seem right. They must have changed guards at some point and he slept through it. Considering how noisy ponies were normally, and adding in their armour, it was surprising he hadn’t woken in the night when the new guard arrived.

He put it out of his mind. He had more important things to consider — with the Dursleys and revenge topping the list. For a few moments he dwelt upon what he wanted to do to them. Visiting upon his uncle every single broken bone he had received from the overweight whale, naturally, ranked first.

But before he could do that, he had to learn magic. Just knowing it existed wasn’t enough, he had to learn how to use it.

First, what did he know about it?

It happened when he really, really, really wanted something to happen. Escaping Dudley when he was trapped, wanting to escape the humiliation of being almost bald after his aunt’s haircut, and not wanting to wear an absolutely ugly sweater for the same reason. And then here, he had teleported when he desperately wanted to escape. So, it was emotion driven.

The ponies said he could only do magic with his horn. He looked up cross-eyed at the tip that he could barely see. Sweetie Belle had said that she “pushed” her magic out through her horn. Unfortunately, according to her, he had a magic suppressing ring on his horn, so that should mean he couldn’t do any magic. Was that why his head felt stuffy? It was hard to tell, really, he was used to that feeling, now.

But he hadn’t had a horn back home and he had done magic there, so maybe that really wasn’t true. Or rather, maybe he was restricted to magic that affected only himself . . . . like making his hair grow. But, covered with fur as he was, did he really want to make his hair longer? And how would he tell anyway? It had taken all night back at the Dursley’s, so it would probably take hours before he noticed anything.

He needed to start with something simple. The lady doctor yesterday had said something about “seeing” his magic. Maybe he should try that first? But how?

He stared at his hooves suspended over his head. Unlike horses and ponies he had seen pictures of in his old world, they were the same colour as his fur — one a yellow-gold colour and the other red. He squinted his eyes, staring at the red hoof and tried to “see” the magic in it. He tried making his eyes slightly out of focus. Then he looked over at the wall and tried using his peripheral vision to see his hoof. That was harder as he kept accidentally directly looking at his hoof. Or the wall.

All he got for his trouble was a headache.

He closed his eyes, and just thought. What was magic? An invisible fluid? An invisible gas? No, those could be sealed out of a room making places where magic didn’t work. It had to be something undetectable by any means, but was everywhere. And in amounts that made it easy to move and do things with the stuff that everyone could see.

Then he had a brilliant idea.

Once, while he was locked in his cupboard, Dudley had wandered away from the telly after his program was over. The next program had been a science program about astronomy and the commentator had mentioned stuff called Dark Energy and Dark Matter. According to the program, normal matter and energy was only about five percent of the total mass of matter and energy in the universe, the rest was invisible and can only be detected by its gravitational effect on normal matter — on a galactic scale. Its effects were undetectable on the planetary scale, not to mention the even smaller human scale, despite it out-massing normal matter and energy by over twenty times in the exact same space.

Was that what magic was? Dark Energy and Dark Matter were something that ponies — and apparently certain people — could somehow control with their minds?

The doctor had said she wanted to see how much magic he had. That meant that ponies, and people, it seemed, could somehow collect Dark Energy in their bodies. If that was true, then he should be able to see it in himself. The doctor had used a spell to make the magic visible to her. He didn’t know any spells to do that, so he had to use his mind to “see” it.

He closed his eyes. If his horn conducted magic, then if he looked at it he should be able to “see” the magic with his mind. After what felt like an hour of trying his only result was that his eye muscles hurt from looking up cross-eyed at the tip of his horn that he could see.

He had read magazines in the town library — the librarians kept Dudley out — about mysticism and this thing they called “the third eye.” Supposedly, this “third eye” could see things that normally were invisible, like chakras and energy points. Were they actually referring to seeing this Dark Energy in their bodies? The books had said that meditation was the way to “wake up” your third eye.

The hardest part of meditation, Harry discovered, was keeping his mind clear. That is, trying to think about nothing was hard. Just when he thought he had done it he found himself thinking about something his relatives had said, the situation he was in, the Princess, and just about any other random thing that suddenly popped up. Or, worse, he was suddenly aware of that itch at the centre of his shoulder blades that just wouldn’t go away! Each time he realized he was thinking, he consciously stopped doing that and tried to think of nothing.

He was concentrating so hard on not thinking that he jumped and screamed, “AHHHH!” when a voice beside him suddenly said, “Time to wake up for breakfast, dear.”

Taking deep breaths, he stared at the startled nurse, a female with a blue coat and green mane and tail, who had stumbled back and was staring at him in alarm. Like Nurse Redheart, she had neither wings nor a horn.

He said unsteadily, “Geeze, give a guy a little warning! You almost gave me a heart attack there!” He took a few more breaths, then apologetically said, “Sorry about that, but you startled me.”

The nurse nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, but I thought you heard me come in with the meal cart.” She smiled uncertainly. “I’m Nurse Tenderheart.”

“Hello,” he said, “I’m Harry Potter. It’s nice to meet you. Did you say breakfast?”

Abruptly all business, the nurse pushed the cart closer to his bed. “This morning it’s oatmeal with diced apples and maple sugar.” Surprisingly, instead of using a long-handled spoon held in her mouth, she used a spoon with a handle designed to fit a hoof. She held onto the side of the bed with her other hoof and fetlock to keep her balance.

It was simple, but good, Harry decided. “Thank you very much,” he said, “That was very good.” But like last night, he was still hungry when he finished. And like last night, he cautiously said, “I’m still hungry, can I have more?” And immediately regretted it. Nothing good could come of asking for more. That lesson he had learned well at the Dursleys’. Last night had been a fluke, he had surprised them. Today everything would go back to normal.

She looked at him, surprised that he had not only finished the bowl, but wanted more. “I’m sorry,” she said, “But there were no leftovers this morning.”

He blinked in surprise. No screaming or yelling about how ungrateful he was to ask for more and not appreciate what they had worked so hard to give him. Still, he reflected, he had eaten better in the last two meals than he usually got from the Dursleys in a weekend of six meals. And it wasn’t scraps, either.

It was only as she was preparing to leave that he noticed a certain pressure in his bladder. And what happened next, when he mentioned that, was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to Harry. He decided that the less said about what the nurse did to help him, the happier he would be. And, surprisingly, the guard even seemed to cast a sympathetic eye in his direction when she left.

Continuing what he had started earlier, Harry relaxed and again closed his eyes as he tried to think about nothing and instead ended up thinking about the nature of nothing and how the little red lines on the inside of his eyelids looked like trees, branching rivers and streams, or odd characters from the cartoons on the telly.

He had barely started when he heard the sound of several ponies in the hall talking. Curious, he opened his eyes just as the door opened and Doctor Well Heart stepped in.

“Good morning, Harry, I trust you are feeling better?” he said walking up to the bed.

He left the door open behind him, Harry noticed. “I’m fine, sir,” Harry said. “Still a bit hungry, though.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows at that. “Really now? And the nurse brought you a full breakfast?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry guiltily looked over to the wall opposite his bed. He shouldn’t have said that to the doctor. This is where he would get yelled at for asking for more than his share. And for not showing proper gratitude for what he had received. As he had thought earlier, last night had been a fluke and now his brash demand for more would end in punishment. “It was very good, though,” he said, vainly hoping that might head off the worst of his punishment for being ungrateful.

The stallion gave Harry a smile. “Well, we’ll see if we can bring you a snack in a couple of hours to tide you over until lunch.”

Startled at the generous offer, Harry looked at the doctor wide-eyed. “Thank you sir,” he said with heartfelt gratitude. No yelling at his ingratitude in asking for more? An unheard of situation in his experience. Would the nurse really bring more, as she had last night?

The doctor floated over his stethoscope, and a clipboard, saying, “Let’s take a quick look shall we?” The exam was fairly quick, ending with the doctor declaring, “You are doing much better than I expected. You might be able to get the casts off in a few days instead of a week!”

He put away his stethoscope and clipboard and became very solemn. “The other reason I am here is to tell you that Princess Celestia would like to speak with you. She’s not angry with you or upset with you, she merely wants to talk with you.”

Harry looked at the doctor, suddenly afraid. He blinked rapidly as he tried to think why a princess, the ruler of a country, would want to talk with him, a kid lost in a strange land. He wished that ring wasn’t on his horn. He wanted the option to teleport away.

“It’s alright, Hahry, she just wants to understand what happened to you. Okay?”

He nodded fearfully.

“Okay.” Doctor Well Heart turned and left the room. Once he was in the hall, he turned to the right and dipped his head. “Your Highness, he’s ready to see you.”

Harry gulped as he heard a kindly and polite, “Thank you,” and then the huge pony — no, she had to be a horse considering she was so much bigger than the others — daintily walked into his room. The new doorway meant she didn’t have to half-crawl to fit through it.

Harry gulped again as he watched her. She was as big as he remembered. Now that he wasn’t terrified out of his mind and trying to escape what he thought was certain death, he could see she was beautiful.

Her white coat seemed to shine, almost glow, even though the room was well-lit. Her mane was a rainbow of yellows and reds given form and life, with dazzling stars embedded in it. It drifted around her head like a large cloud, changing shapes on an unfelt breeze. It was easily long enough to reach the floor below her head — with a lot left over. It moved almost as if it were alive.

Then he noticed her tail. It was as long as her body. It, too, floated and drifted above the floor behind her. Just as with her mane, with its length it should have pooled around her hooves instead of drifting gracefully behind her in an invisible breeze.

And there was the smell of a warm summer day around her.

All this combined into making an imposing and beautiful figure that was enormously intimidating at the same time. Fortunately, she exuded an aura of calm imbued with an attitude friendliness that slowed his frantically beating heart and helped calm him, although he still shivered a bit.

As soon as she was in the room she laid her barrel down on the floor with her hooves gathered beneath her. She still towered over him, but was at a comfortable distance. Or at least comfortable for him. The advantage for her was that she didn’t have to duck her head to avoid the ceiling — she could hold her head up as was normal for a pony. The door behind her closed in a golden yellow glow.

He noted her horn was the purest white he had ever seen, and that she had wings, something he hadn’t noticed the previous day. Was she a unicorn and pegasus hybrid? A unipeg? A pegacorn? A Cornus?

“Good morning to you, Hahry Potter,” she said. Her voice, while deeper than those of the smaller ponies, was still definitely feminine in nature.

Harry barely managed to squeak out a “Hello” in reply.

“Have they been treating you well here?”

He nodded, afraid to try to say anything.

“I heard that you are still hungry.”

He shivered, but slowly nodded again.

She smiled and turned her head to the guard. “Please get me a tea and something appropriate for a hungry colt to eat and drink.”

The guard bowed and left the room.

She turned back to Harry.

“Now then, my little colt, could you tell me about yourself?”

Harry was staring at closed door, surprised that she had ordered more food for him. Slowly he returned his gaze to her and then quickly looked back down at the blanket covering him.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Perhaps it would help to start with your name and where you were born?”

Hadn’t the other ponies already told her? He swallowed nervously, then said, “My name is Harry James Potter. I was born on July 31st, 1980, in the early morning in Godric's Hollow, in the West Country.”

She tilted her head slightly, clearly not understanding.

“Erm,” he continued, “That's in England?”

Still no sign of recognition, so he went on. “My father was a Potter and my mother was an Evans. They both died on Halloween night, 1981. My aunt says they were drunken wastrels who died in a car accident.” He turned his eyes towards his right forehead. “That scar I got in the accident.” He paused. “I don’t believe that’s how they died. I remember a man laughing and then a flash of green light lit up the room.” He stared at the blanket.

“What were your parent’s names, dear?” Princess Celestia asked softly.

Harry couldn’t shrug his shoulders, so he looked out the window. “I don’t know,” he said softly, “Aunt Petunia refuses to talk about them, and Uncle Vernon . . . .” Harry shuddered.

He looked back at the huge white horse just in time to see her tightened lips and slight narrowing of her eyes return to a relaxed and kindly sympathetic look. She had not liked what he had said. He quickly looked down at his blanket and shivered. Restrained by his casts as he was, he couldn’t flee as he had tried before.

“Go on,” she softly coaxed him.

Before he could say more, the door opened and the guard returned, followed by a nurse pushing a cart with a tea set on it, a glass of orange juice, and a plate with pancakes! Beside the pancakes was a small jar of something blue. As she wheeled the car to the bedside, he caught a whiff of blueberries.

As the Princess poured herself a cup of tea, using her magic to lift the teapot, she said to the nurse, “You may leave,” interrupting the nurse as she picked up the knife to section the pancakes. The Nurse bowed and quickly left.

Harry watched, entranced, as the Princess used her magic to wield the knife as she cut up the pancakes. “Do you like blueberry syrup on your pancakes?”

Harry stared at the pancakes. He’d never had pancakes before, Dudley had always made sure to polish them off to prevent Harry from getting any. The blueberries he knew from late-night snacking and raiding the blueberry jam jar for a sandwich. “Yes, please,” he said, swallowing the drool that had so quickly pooled in his mouth at the sight of his “snack.”

For the next few minutes nothing was said as the Princess of Equestria used her magic to feed him while he blissed on the delicious tastes that filled his mouth. Blueberries at the Dursleys’ had never tasted this good. He sighed, his eyes closed, as the last bit of pancake melted in his mouth. Too bad there wasn’t more, he could have demolished another stack of those wondrous fluffy pancakes.

He looked up to see her eyes sparkling, a soft chuckle on her lips. “I do so love watching somepony enjoy their food.”

He looked down, embarrassed. “The food here tastes just so much better than I’ve ever had before,” he half mumbled as an explanation. And his stomach had never felt so full in his life.

She took a sip of her tea. “Now, then, you were telling me your relatives never talked about your parents?”

Harry’s good humour disappeared and he scowled.

“My Aunt told me that after Halloween, on November second, when she went to get the milk and newspaper at the door, there I was in a basket with a letter saying her sister was dead and that I was their responsibility.”

Caught up in his story he almost missed the princess narrowing her eyes in displeasure. Scowling, Harry continued, “I never understood that. If the constables had found me, then one of them would have brought me over. And the constables never send a letter to tell a relative that a close relative is dead, they always go in person — I’ve seen that on the telly about Scotland Yard. And the same for the Social Services people. Who leaves a baby in a basket on a doorstep? That sounds more like something in a fairy-tale, right? Or a badly written fantasy novel.”

He looked up at the Princess and shivered. Horses and ponies here had huge eyes that were remarkably expressive. And right now he could see the glimmer of rage in hers. He shrank back into his bed and really wished he could hide under the bed, having learned he couldn’t make it through the walls.

She blinked a few times and the calming aura that had momentarily disappeared returned.

“And you’ve been living there ever since? At number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England?” She managed to say it without stumbling over the unfamiliar names.

He nodded.

Her expression went blank for several moments. Clearly she was thinking about what he had told her.

“They must have been very poor, and taking care of you must have been difficult for them.”

He looked up, frowning. “Oh, no, they weren’t poor. Uncle Vernon works at Grunnings Drills and is a sales manager. He gets a new car every year and they go on vacations a lot. And they live in a ‘normal’ neighbourhood with ‘normal’ neighbours, as they like to say.” He looked out the window. “No freaks like me,” he said almost too softly for her to hear.

“I see,” she said slowly, nodding. “Then why are you so skinny?”

“Oh, well, um,” Harry stumbled as he tried to think of an excuse, but then he stopped. He realized something important. This wasn’t a nosey teacher, school nurse, or doctor who would later ignore him. This was a Princess asking the questions. Someone very important. Someone who could help him.

If, that is, she wanted to. She might just do like all the other adults in his life and listen to his stories, promise that things would change, and then do absolutely nothing.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. He would try once more. Maybe, just maybe, something good would happen this time instead of a beating. Plus, what did he have to lose? If nothing happened then he was no worse off than before.

He looked back at his blanket and swallowed. “My relatives hate me,” he said quietly as he shivered. “My bedroom is the cupboard under the stairs while my cousin gets two bedrooms for his stuff. My cot barely fits, and I barely fit on the cot. The only space I have for stuff is under my cot. All my clothes are worn-out cast-offs from my whale of a cousin.

“The only food I get are the leftovers, if there are any. What makes it worse is that I usually fix breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When I tried to fix more so I could eat properly, I got punished for wasting food.”

He smirked at her, “However, I’ve learned to pick the lock on my cupboard door, and I can usually get late-night snacks while they’re sleeping.” He sighed and shivered again, “But I can’t take too much or they’ll notice. And Dudley sometimes says I ate his snacks just so I get punished. I don’t think he even notices if it’s true or not.”

She nodded, not smiling, just acknowledging that she heard him, and encouraging him to continue.

Once he started he couldn’t stop. He told her about the beatings he got when they blamed him for “freaky” things that he now suspected might have been magic. How he didn’t know either his name — he thought it was Freak — or his birthday until he started school. How Dudley “discouraged” other kids from befriending him and how the game of Harry Hunting got started. How he had never had a birthday party, while having to fix the food for his cousin’s parties. How the Dursley vacations never included him, leaving him with a babysitter while they visited the beach. Only allowed out of his cupboard to clean the house, work in the garden, or go to school — and rarely allowed to go to the local park, such as the day he ended up in Equestria. Not to mention his punishments for daring to get better grades in school than his cousin — he had to be cheating or using his freaky powers!

And that the only friends he really had were the spiders in his closet. They never grumbled about everything he did. They never demanded he do things for them. They quietly listened to his complaints, and even played games with him sometimes.

Then he explained about this latest episode of Harry Hunting and how he had arrived where the three girl ponies had found him.

Finally, he looked up. “And that’s pretty much it,” he finished.

۸-~-۸

Author's Note

I would like to say a heartfelt thank-you to everyone who has taken the time and effort to comment and/or click on the Thumbs-Up in the Likes bar. Knowing people are reading the story and feel motivated enough to comment is helping to drive the story. And if you don't like it, how about telling me what it is you don't like?

And if anyone notices a grammatical or spelling mistake, please tell me. It's never too late to fix a mistake.

6 — The Mysterious Enigma

Princess Celestia nodded slowly, giving a soft, “Thank you for telling me.” Harry noticed the fur around her eyes seemed wet. He wondered why. “If we find these Dursleys, I promise you that they will be punished,” she said solemnly. She lifted a hoof and gently placed it against the side of his chest. “No pony deserves the way you were treated. You are a fine colt and I’m sure that you will be an excellent stallion when you grow up.”

Harry stared at her. Ignoring the confusing terms of pony, stallion, and colt, which he thought were the pony equivalents for person, man, and boy, no adult had ever said anything like that to him. He was unsure of what to think. Was this a trick?

They sat quietly for a time. He was worn out, and she seemed to be thinking.

“On a slightly different subject, Hahry Potter . . . .”

“H. A. R. R. Y,” he interrupted, “not H. A. H. R. Y. Call me Harry.” She now knew more about him than anyone else, having her call him Harry Potter every time just felt wrong. Plus, she was royalty, it just seemed wrong for her to be so formal to someone of his inconsequential status.

She smiled, “Very well. Harry. What did you look like before arriving here?” She cleared her throat. “You’ve mentioned both hands and hooves but not hooves, wings, or horns, so I take it you were not a pony in Little Whinging?”

Harry didn’t know what to say, at first. “Well,” he said hesitantly, “I walked upright on two legs and instead of front legs,” he glanced at his cast laden legs, “I had arms with five-finger hands. I didn’t have fur to keep me warm or to protect me from too much sun, nobody does, so we always wore clothes, especially in bad weather. Plus, people get really upset if you don’t wear clothes because then everyone can see your privates. There are strict laws against that sort of thing. The only times you are naked is when taking a bath.”

“Oh!” she said. She studied him for a moment. “So, seeing everypony without clothes, including yourself, is a bit distressing for you? Even though nothing . . . private . . . can be seen?”

He nodded, embarrassed, with his face flushing red.

She smiled reassuringly. “Things are very different here, so don’t worry about it. Sometimes ponies wear clothes, sometimes not. And our fur does an excellent job of keeping us warm when it’s cold. Just pretend our fur is clothing and I’m sure you will adjust in time.”

She took a moment to think. “Tell me about your world. I believe you mentioned something about a telly? And a Scot-land Yard?”

He thought a bit, “Well, the telly is a box that lets you watch shows, plays . . . .”

Over the next hour or so he told her about radios, cars, planes, even computers. And how just about anything important that happened anywhere in the world would be instant news everywhere.

Finally, she looked over at the door and said, “It’s nearly time for lunch and I have other business to attend to in Ponyville.” She gracefully got to her hooves. “When you have recovered, I would appreciate it if you could accompany a select group of ponies and my guard to the Everfree Forest to see if you can help them track your trail. It is obvious that there is, or was, a portal between your world and ours. We need to make sure we guard it to assist any others who might stumble through it. We should also see if we can use the portal to go to your world. Your stories of what your people have accomplished there piqued my interest.” She shook her head ruefully, “Instant world-wide communications! And you’ve even travelled to your world’s moon! Luna will be fascinated.

“I will also be asking my faithful student to come speak with you about your magic and magic in general. If you are interested, she could teach you about magic in our world.”

He nodded.

She smiled at him as she opened the door and left, closing the door behind her.

He just laid in bed and thought about the revenge he wanted on the Dursleys.

Lunch was oatmeal with diced apple chunks and cinnamon. And this time it was in a bowl almost twice as big as the previous one. Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be better now.

After that filling lunch, he once again tried his hand at meditation and clearing his mind. He didn’t make much progress because only a short time after lunch he had a new visitor.

This time it was a purple unicorn pony with a purple mane split by a pinkish stripe, and her face sported a wide smile. Her eyes were also purple. With her, astonishingly, and riding on her back, was a purple reptile, with a green headcrest, that looked to be a little smaller than Harry.

“Hi!” she said excitedly. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, and this is my number one assistant, Spike,” She said proudly. She twisted her head slightly towards the lizard who was in the process of hopping down. “He’s a dragon,” she added.

“Princess Celestia has asked me to come see you because of your unusual magic corona.” Her smile grew wider. “I’m an expert in magic and if anypony can figure you out, it’s me!” She stopped and studied him for a moment. “Oh, this is just so exciting!” she exclaimed, doing a quick running-in-place dance. “Doctor Deep Healer said she couldn’t get any kind of significant readings as your whole body seemed to glow with magic. No pony has ever had that!” Her gaze seemed to lose focus as she continued, “Who knows what this will teach us about magic! Not to mention the tests I can run to see if this is an isolated case or if any pony can do it with the right training.” She stared off out the window. “And she said you don’t believe in magic. That you can’t even do a basic levitation spell that most unicorn foals manage by their first birthday! And yet you managed to teleport from here to the Everfree!” She was lifting and dropping her hooves in slow-motion now. She actually shivered as she said, “I can’t wait to see what I learn!”

Harry was getting rather creeped out by this new pony.

The little lizard, standing by the guard and out of trampling-dance range, sighed. “Twi!” he said loudly, “You’re scaring him!”

“No I’m not!” She said reflexively, as she glared at her assistant. Then she looked over at Harry and took in how he was shrinking back under his blanket and staring at her with wide eyes.

“Oh. Maybe I am.” She looked away guiltily, then looked back and cleared her throat. She took a breath and stilled herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that this is so exciting!” She shivered again.

“Twi,” said Spike warningly.

She caught herself and looked down guiltily. “Right,” she said, giving herself a shake.

This time she smiled at him. “Well, before I can get to the magic I need to understand how you got to Ponyville. I mean, nopony in Ponyville knows of a village that is only a few hours’ walk from away. And none of the history or geography books in the library mention any town in the Everfree, just the ruins of Two Sisters’ Castle. And the Pegasi would have reported seeing a village as they flew high over the forest to gather clouds. So that’s quite a mystery!

“Princess Celestia did mention a portal might be involved,” she shivered in delight again, “So that’s another new magic to study!”

“Well, first, I think, I’d like you to tell me how you ended up on Sweet Apple Acres — that’s where Apple Bloom and her friends found you, you know. And if you could give me as much detail as you could, I would appreciate it. Maybe something you will remember will help explain what happened.”

For the second time that day Harry told the story of how he had left the playground and wandered through the forest to the Sweet Apple Acres. Twi, as Spike had called her, interrupted frequently with questions. The tale took twice as long as it had with the Princess.

The purple unicorn became very angry at his explanations of why he was staggering and what Harry Hunting was. He noticed a violet glow coming from her eyes.

“Those insufferable horrors! How could anypony treat a foal like that! If I ever get my hooves on them . . . ,” she growled.

It felt unreal to have someone actually getting angry on his behalf instead of angry at him. Especially this odd, quirky pony.

“Twi!” interrupted the dragon.

She blinked and the glow disappeared.

“Sorry,” she said contritely. “I didn’t mean to get carried away.” She smiled at him. “So, back to your story . . . .”

۸-_-۸

“All right,” Twilight Sparkle said when he had concluded his story. “I’ll take a look at Sweet Apple Acres later today.” She stopped trotting in place and stared at him.

“Now we can take a look at your magic,” she smiled broadly. “First, a slightly more complicated scan than Doctor Deep Healer used.” She frowned cutely and a violet glow appeared around her horn. After a brief moment he saw a similar glow slowly appear all over his body.

He felt nothing, at first. Then a very faint warmth. Almost immediately both disappeared.

She was staring at him with her eyes wide and a smile that seemed bigger than should be possible.

“Just as Doctor Deep Healer said, there is an envelope of magic surrounding you! Oh, this is so exciting!” She, once more, started trotting rapidly in place. The guard at the door turned slightly to move a bit farther away and give her more room.

Still trotting, she said, “Let me try this.”

Her horn glowed again, only this time he felt a slight warmth on his hooves, the ones over his head. He looked up to see the violet glow slowly slide down from his hooves to the casts. When it was about even with his elbows, he felt something warm on his forehead, yet not really on his forehead. Looking up he realized that the glow was working its way down his horn.

She frowned as it reached his forehead, her trotting petering out to standing still, but didn’t say anything and didn’t stop her magic. Eventually, the purple glow reached his rear hooves, finished with them, and disappeared.

For several minutes she simply stood there staring in his direction but obviously completely lost in thought.

“Spike, take this down.”

Harry glanced at the little dragon. The beast was sitting comfortably, on the edge of Harry’s bed, and had ink feather and paper ready. “Ready,” he said eagerly.

“Subject has a magic field superimposed on his body, extending barely beyond his surface skin, but it does not originate within him — nor does he power it. The field appears benign, stable, and does not react to magical stimuli. The field is, for the most part, inactive. No known spell can create such a field. No spell remnants are in the field, so tracing it that way is not possible. The field appears very old, possibly as old as the subject.

“Subject is unaware of the field.

“However, there is one point where the field shows enhanced thickness and does not reach the subject’s skin surface.”

She paused and looked carefully at Harry’s scar.

“There is a scar on the right side of his forehead, midway between his horn and his eyes, which looks like a stylized lightning bolt. The magic field appears to be isolating that scar from the rest of his body.

Her horn lit up again and this time a beam of purple shot from it to his forehead. A sharp pain stabbed into his head from the scar. He gasped and reflexively tried to slap his hand on the scar. The casts prevented the movement but he lurched on the bed in reaction. His scar had never hurt like that before. It had ached when accidently hit, but nothing like this!

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Twilight immediately said, her horn instantly stopping its glow. His reaction had clearly surprised her.

He gave her a wounded look. She looked away and a faint flush tinged her cheeks. She was embarrassed, Harry realized. It really had been an accident.

“That . . . shouldn’t have happened.” She spoke to her assistant, “The scar on the subject’s forehead appears to have a magical component. A cursory scan resulted in pain for the subject. The magic in the scar appears to be completely unrelated to the subject and the field encasing him.” She paused. “Which doesn’t explain why it caused him pain.”

She looked back at him sadly. “Okay, I need to use another spell. I’m sorry, but this one will hurt, a little. Please bear with me.”

Her horn glowed again, this time a darker shade of pink, almost red. And she was right. It hurt. Specifically, his scar began to hurt. First a dull ache that rapidly grew to stabbing pains that quickly blended into a solid wall. It felt as if his forehead was on fire — he had burned his hand once, it felt like that only much, much worse. He gritted his teeth and tried to withhold the pained scream, but found himself whimpering.

The pain suddenly fell. It went from a wall that drove all thought from his mind to a mere dull ache in a second. It made him gasp in relief, it was so sudden. Then he felt a drip of sweat slowly make its way down his forehead. He heard Spike gasp, “You’re bleeding!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, that shouldn’t have happened!” Twilight Sparkle said, clearly upset at causing him not only pain but to have opened a wound! “Here, let me cast a healing spell,” she offered. Her horn glowed again. He didn’t see anything happen, but he whimpered as he felt a new burst of intense pain.

“That’s . . . that’s not possible,” he heard her say in disbelief. “Note this down, Spike,” she said urgently, “every detail! I used a standard level-one healing spell. Subject reacted with severe physical pain. Pain appeared to cease the instant the spell was cancelled. The spell appears to have failed to work.”

She turned to the guard, “Get a nurse, immediately!”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, yanking the door open and relaying her order to the guard outside.

Moments later, Nurse Redheart had cleaned the blood from his forehead, applied a healing salve, and was dressing the wound with a bandage. She was also frequently glaring at Princess Celestia’s faithful student.

Twilight, on the other hand was bouncing between excitement and dismay with whiplash inducing speed as she dictated further observations to her assistant.

As she turned from Harry, the Nurse said, severely, “I dislike visitors causing harm to my patients. Please restrain yourself or I’ll have you removed!”

Harry blinked at that. She would actually order Princess Celestia’s student, sent here by the ruler herself, out of the hospital for hurting him?

From the purple unicorn’s reaction, Harry saw that not only would she issue such an order, but that the student in question would obey!

Twilight could only mumble, “Sorry, it won’t happen again, I promise,” as she stared at the floor like a guilty child caught stealing from the cookie jar.

After the nurse left, Twilight looked back at Harry. She took a breath. “I am so sorry for hurting you, I never thought for a moment that that would happen. Healing spells of that level do not harm ponies.” She stopped.

Huh, he thought, an adult who was actually apologizing for hurting him. That was a first!

He nodded his head. “It’s alright, you didn’t know that would happen.” He tilted his head slightly, “What did happen?” Hopefully, she wouldn’t get mad at him questioning her.

Her eyes seemed to gleam with excitement. “The first targeted spell was to try to find out what was in your scar, or the tissue around it, to cause that magic field around you to behave the way it does, that is, going around your scar. It shouldn’t have caused you any pain whatsoever. And yet it did.” She shifted from hoof to hoof. “I’ll have to research if there are any other instances where that spell has generated that reaction.”

She seemed thrilled at the prospect.

“There is some type of magic in your scar, was what that spell told me. As soon as you reacted I stopped, so I didn’t get any further information.”

She sighed sorrowfully, “The second spell was a bit more specific. It should have told me what kind of magic is in the scar. It usually is harmless, but in some instances has been known to cause pain, but only with specific types of magic. That it hurt you enough to bleed was amazing!” She was again trotting in place.

“The scar on your forehead appears to be the remnants of a spell gone wrong and is leeching some of your magic away from you.” She paused to think for a minute. “Perhaps that is why you have shown so few instances of magical levitation that should be a daily occurrence in a unicorn such as yourself. Not that you don’t have enough magic, but that the spell remnant is interfering with your abilities. I’ll have to do more research on spells that interfere with a unicorn’s natural magic.” She looked giddy at the prospect.

“And for the healing spell actually to hurt the subject instead of healing — that is unheard of! It’s as if the magic in the scar is somehow resisting the healing spell. Although why a spell remnant would react at all to healing magic is a quandary — it should only react to a spell that removes the remnant! And healing magics do not remove spell remnants.”

She was now cantering in place, staring at the floor, talking more to herself than Harry. “So many questions,” she half-whispered, “so much research! I’ll have to get the subject into my laboratory for a complete scan. But first I’ll have to upgrade the equipment — this is Pinkie Pie all over again!” She sounded giddy with excitement.

“Twilight!” interjected the dragon.

She jumped, startled out of her introspections. She looked around the room wildly before settling back on the colt.

“I’ll get right on this,” she told him earnestly, grinning widely.

He was not reassured that that was a good thing for him.

She smiled at his tentative nod. Almost at the same time his stomach rumbled loudly. She gave him a startled look. “Didn’t you get lunch?”

He nodded guiltily, ‘Yes, ma’am. It was very good, too.”

She looked surprised at that, as did Spike.

“Somepony who thinks hospital food tastes good?” Spike said. “I didn’t think that was possible. You must have had terrible food before now!”

She frowned at the baby dragon, “Spike!”

“In any case,” she said, “it clearly was not enough. I’ll have them send you a snack!”

Even as he stared at her, astounded she would say such a thing, she turned, opened the door, and headed out of the room. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she called out to him, her assistant bobbing behind her in her magic like a balloon tethered to a child’s hand. The dragon ruefully waved goodbye as the door closed behind them.

Harry shook his head. That was one strange pony, he decided.

Magic in his scar. He pondered that for a moment. Maybe he should be trying to see that? Well, first he needed to learn to meditate without falling asleep! After a few minutes looking around the room, at the guard, and out the window, the small colt sighed and tried to relax. Meditation that afternoon was his plan.

But Nurse Redheart coming into the room a few minutes later, pushing a cart with another bowl of oatmeal, astonished him. The purple unicorn had actually ordered more food for him! He postponed his plans. And postponed them again when certain “necessities” required the Nurse’s further attentions.

The arrival of three fillies a few minutes after the nurse left with the empty bowl put paid to that particular planned course of action for the afternoon.

They spent most of the time telling him about their school and their opinions of the other students. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon (Really? Those were their names?) sounded like bullies like Dudley, except they didn’t descend into violence and stuck with verbal abuse instead. And the fillies told him a rather random and fractured version of Equestria’s history. Coherency was not one of the fillies’ attributes, but they were earnest.

Dinner was another large bowl of oatmeal, which he devoured as if starving.

Then he spent the rest of the evening trying to meditate, and fell asleep instead. There was just something about having a full stomach and no pains that made that result almost unavoidable.

۸-_-۸

7 — She’s Only Interested in My Body

The next morning was a repeat of the previous morning — waking up early and realizing it would be hours before breakfast arrived. And then he realized he had fallen asleep instead of meditating the previous night. After a sigh of resignation, he started again. He was going to learn magic! No matter how boring parts of it might be.

About the fifth time a memory of the Dursleys intruded into his attempt at clearing his mind, he decided to visualize pushing that memory into a box to get it out of the way. If it was in a box, he wouldn’t think about it!

After repeating that dozens of times he heard the door open. Opening his eyes, he saw Nurse Redheart come in with his breakfast. Only after she left and he restarted his meditations did he realize that the memories he had put away really were not coming back. He visualized opening the box and his mind was flooded with all the things he had been trying not to think about.

He wondered if that’s what he needed to do, put all his memories in boxes.

The most persistent memories were the ones with the Dursleys, so he started shoving those into a new box as fast as he could remember them. After a dozen, he had to retrace his steps and break the box into four, one for each Dursley and Aunt Marjorie. School memories started to pop up, but they usually involved Dudley doing his best to isolate Harry. Those became a fifth box. His fears and memories about where he currently was he tentatively placed in a sixth box. The three girls — no they were fillies — went into another box. Theories and concerns about magic became yet another box.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed as he did this until he heard the door open again. This time it was the nurse with his lunch! He had been at this for over four hours. At the same time he felt calmer than he had ever felt before. And his mind felt clearer as well.

Well, if nothing else at least he didn’t have to worry about those unpleasant memories cropping up randomly anymore.

After lunch Doctor Well Heart stopped by and checked his arms . . . forelegs. He seemed quite impressed. After he left, Harry once again lost himself in his memories and organizing them.

This time it was the loud clatter of multiple hooves sliding to halt outside his door that attracted his attention. That and a loud voice bellowing, “NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS!” followed by an equally loud, and higher pitched, voice saying “WE WEREN’T RUNNING, WE WERE HURRYING!” A different voice followed, yelling, “QUIET! THIS IS A HOSPITAL NOT A HOOFBALL FIELD!”

His door slowly opened and, as he had expected, the three fillies walked in.

“Wow,” said Scootaloo, shaking her head, “What a bunch of grouches!”

“Well, they are right, you know,” Sweetie Belle said, “you shouldn’t run in the hospital unless it’s an emergency. And somepony might be trying to sleep.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes as she said, “Hiya, Harry, how are ya feelin’ today?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “How was school?”

“Boring.” “Okay.” “Diamond Tiara is an idiot.”

They stared at each other for a minute. Scootaloo started fidgeting.

Harry said, “You know, you don’t have to come see me every day after school if you don’t want to.”

“Well,” said Scootaloo, “it is kinda boring when you can’t really do anything except lie there.” She got a calculating look in her eyes. “Although it was fun pulling on those ropes of yours,” she said, eyeing the ropes now and clearly getting ready to jump up on the bed.

“Oh!” said Apple Bloom, “I almost forgot . . . .”

The other two looked at her and echoed her with an “Oh!” and “Oh, yeah!”

“Cheerilee, our teacher, is coming by this afternoon. That’s why we were in a rush to get here, to let ya know she was coming,” Apple Bloom concluded. Scootaloo jumped up on the bed.

“Uh huh!” affirmed Sweetie Belle. “She said she has to evaluate your education so she’ll know what you need to learn.”

Scootaloo walked up to one of the ropes and studied it, the pulley it ran through, and where the ropes were tied to his casts.

“We told her you knew lots of maths and nothin’ about Equestria or the Princesses, but she said she had to check herself,” Apple Bloom finished.

That started Harry thinking about what was going to happen to him after he got out of the hospital. Clearly, the adults figured he would be going to school, which distracted him for a moment as he wondered what kind of school it was. But then he wondered where he was going to stay? Would they put him in an orphanage?

He put those thoughts away. There was nothing he could do about his situation except go with whatever happened.

Changing the subject, he said, “What do you three do when you’re not hanging around the hospital getting yelled at?”

After a series of guilty looks, and Scootaloo having been reminded what had happened the last time they had played with his ropes, they started describing their numerous adventures in seeking cutie marks. They described their attempts at creature catching, chicken herding, chicken rescuing, carpentry, and zip-lining. The last two ended up with them covered in tree sap and pine needles, a frequent occurrence Harry would later discover. They were just starting a description of them trying duck-pin bowling when their teacher arrived.

By this time all three were sitting on his bed.

Like the nurses, Cheerilee was neither a pegasus nor a unicorn. She had a purple coat with a pink and lavender mane. After a quick introduction she settled into quizzing him on what he knew. The Cutie Mark Crusaders, as the three fillies had named themselves, left not long afterwards, not that Harry could blame them. He would have left, too, if he could move!

In all truth, he had to admit it wasn’t that bad. The math was simple flash cards of increasing difficulty. The language lessons were similar; the spelling of many common words, reading sentences and finding the nouns, verbs, adjectives, and so forth. Naturally, he couldn’t write anything, which surprised her somewhat as she expected him to use his mouth to move the quill — magic was out as he still wore that ring on his horn. For Geography, history, and government he knew nothing, again surprising her.

Apparently no one had told her he wasn’t native to this world. He decided that if the Princess had wanted that information widely known, she would have made sure everyone besides the doctor, nurse, her faithful student, and herself knew the truth. So, he said nothing about that and simply said he had never been taught those things.

Although he did learn that there were three types of ponies, Earth, Pegasus, and Unicorn. The Princess, she told him, was a special case. She was an Alicorn, of which there were only three known, Celestia, Luna, and Mi Amore Cadenza. He also learned that there were, indeed, many other mythological races in this new world, including, but not limited to, Griffons, Dragons, Trolls, Centaurs, Cockatrices, Hydras, Manticores, Minotaurs, and Phoenixes. And that there were several “normal” animals that could talk, such as Buffaloes and Cows. He didn’t think he could ever look at a hamburger again if he knew he could have talked to the cow it came from. He shuddered at the thought.

She was a nice mare, Harry decided, having given him proper names for ponies in general, and she concluded her testing well before dinner. However, just as she was leaving, Doctor Well Heart returned, bringing the purple unicorn mare, Twilight Sparkle, with him.

“Harry,” the doctor said, “your body’s healing powers are amazing. If they continue as they have, then I see no reason not to remove your casts and release you tomorrow afternoon.”

Harry perked up at that welcome news, but just as quickly frowned as he wondered where he would go.

The Doctor smiled at him. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said warmly. He turned to Twilight and nodded.

“Um,” she said haltingly, “If you have no objections, Princess Celestia suggested that you could stay with me. It would make it easier for me to teach you about Equestria and magic.”

Harry stared at her. He really didn’t have a choice, now did he? The Princess could simply say, “You’re living there,” and that would be that. No one would dare contradict her. And he definitely wasn’t in a position to defy authority.

On the other hand, so what? It wasn’t like he had ever really had the ability to make his own choices anyway, otherwise he never would have stayed with the Dursleys. At least this time the adults were pretending to give him the options.

He looked up at her, “And you could question ‘Subject’ about my world without any inconvenience.”

She blushed, he was amazed to see. How did she do that through fur?

“Well, yes, that too.” She rushed on, “But that’s not the primary reason, honest! I want to make you as comfortable as possible here.” She gave him a pleading look.

She seemed honest, he thought. And if he said “no” where would he end up?

“Okay,” he said, “If you don’t mind.”

She pranced in place for a moment, looking very pleased. “Excellent! Spike and I will prepare a nice spot for you to sleep.” She gave him a broad smile. “Doctor Well Heart says everything should be finished by three tomorrow, so I’ll see you then!” She turned and rushed out of the room.

Harry gave the Doctor a puzzled look.

The pony shook his head. “And they say I don’t have good pony skills!” He grinned at Harry. “She’s a good pony, I’m sure you’ll have a great time living at the library.”

“Library?”

“Oh, yes, you don’t know about that, do you?”

Harry looked at him blankly.

“Her home is Ponyville’s Golden Oak Library, and she’s the librarian.”

That was awesome on many levels, Harry realized. As long as he could read books he would be happy even if locked into a cupboard. And if he wasn’t locked in a cupboard, then so much the better. Living with her couldn’t be worse than the Dursleys.

He realized he was actually looking forward to moving in with her, now. But what was the Princess’s personal and faithful student doing running a library? Something was up with that. He would expect the personal student of the ruler to be groomed for a much more prestigious position. And yet, here she was, a lowly librarian.

His business concluded, the Doctor left. Harry returned to his meditations. He felt he was actually starting to make progress — he could actually keep his mind blank for seconds at a time!

۸-~-۸

The next day was a productive one for Harry. By the time the doctor came by and removed the colt’s casts Harry finally had managed to meditate for several minutes and caught the barest glimmer of a glow when he had tried to “look” at his horn with his eyes closed. Of course, that could also have been his imagination, “seeing” a glow that was really the sunlight coming in his window and making a pattern on the inside of his eyelids. Only time would tell.

And in the meantime, he had organized his memories to an amazing degree and found that his memories of school were much sharper than they had ever been. He could almost see the print in the books he had read in class, and hear the teachers’ words as they spoke. He still had a long way to go, but the more he did the faster he became at doing it! And the clearer all the memories became.

The down side of that was that he had far more unhappy and depressing memories than good ones. With their attendant emotions of humiliation and pain.

۸-~-۸

“And there you go, Harry,” Doctor Well Heart said as the last section of cast came off his left arm-leg. Harry just laid there for a moment lifting and lowering his new legs, watching closely as he tried to figure out how they worked. When he bent what he thought was his wrist, it was a lot farther up the leg than he had expected, at a place he had first thought was his elbow. He closed his eyes and bent his wrist, then opened them to see he had been correct, it was what he thought was his elbow doing the bending.

And when he moved his elbow, a joint almost at his chest moved. And above that was his shoulder. The space between them couldn’t have been more than the width of his tiny hoof — much shorter than he was used to seeing between his shoulder and elbow.

He worked his way back down to the hoof trying to bend things. When he got below his wrist, if he closed his eyes it felt like he was bending his middle finger. Thinking of that area as a finger, he tried to “hook” his legs together and feel how hard they pulled against each other. It was kind of odd, but he could see how he could grasp things that way. But still, he had at least three more joints between his shoulder and his hoof.

The doctor watched, apparently fascinated in his explorations. The stallion raised his eyebrows as Harry used his arm-legs to push himself into a sitting position.

It was very awkward for Harry and he had the urge to lean forward onto his front hooves the way dogs and cats sometimes sat with their tails curled around their paws. Unsure of what to expect, Harry carefully lowered his rear legs towards the floor and slid off the bed. Again, it was awkward, but by turning to his side he was able to lean against the bed while standing up. Cautiously, he balanced on his legs and took a tentative step beside the bed.

Both doctor and nurse were watching him intently, and wide-eyed, the doctor even taking notes on his clipboard. The nurse was both amazed and confused at what he was doing.

Too focused on learning to walk with his new body, Harry paid them no attention. Attempting to stand and walk without toes to flex and provide balance was a trial. He swayed and staggered a few times just trying to stand still, but his hooves seemed to grip the floor quite well he was surprise to notice — almost like they had suction cups on them instead of simply a hard hoof-fingernail. He found himself using his leg muscles and shifting his hips to keep from falling. It must be somewhat like walking with very low stilts strapped to his legs, he decided. He made sure to stay close to the bed so he could grab it whenever he started to lose his balance.

Still, after a few minutes struggling he was starting to get the hang of it. He looked up and grinned at the two adults and immediately realized he had made a mistake. Even though he was a young colt, standing on his legs like this made him as tall as the stallion and taller than the mare in the room. Ponies don’t walk on their rear legs.

“Uh, oops,” he said hesitantly, “Sorry,” he continued as he deliberately allowed himself to fall forward and catch himself with his hands-hooves. He shook his head. He was going to have to get used to calling things by their names here. Fore-legs and fore-hooves. He paused and considered things. Were those puns?

“No, no problem at all,” said the doctor, “That was quite interesting. You were walking almost like a Minotaur, and quite well indeed. Most ponies have difficulty just standing still that way, much less actually walking. Do you do that a lot?”

Harry hesitated. Well, everyone, pony, here knew he came from somewhere else, but he wasn’t sure if the Princess or Twilight had told anyone else he wasn’t naturally a pony. “Um, yeah.” He decided to leave it at that.

Doctor Well Heart made a notation on his clipboard. “Well, Twilight should be here any minute now.”

As if she had been waiting for her cue, Twilight trotted through the doorway behind the doctor. “Hi, Harry,” she said cheerfully. Oddly, Harry noticed she had dark bags under her eyes as if she hadn’t had enough sleep, and her assistant Spike was nowhere in sight. “I hope you’re ready to go.” She gave him a big smile.

He immediately mistrusted it. No one smiled like that at him, not even the doctors or nurses. “Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly, looking down, avoiding meeting her eyes, and possibly provoking her. After all, while the doctors and nurses were supposed to be nice as a part of their job, she, as the “faithful student” of the ruler of this land, was under no such requirements.

“Great! Well, come along, there is so much we have to do today in getting you settled in.”

She wheeled around and left the room.

Harry turned from beside the bed and started to follow her, only to end up in a face-plant on the floor. “Oof. Ow.” Trying to walk on your middle fingers and toes was a great deal more difficult than he had anticipated. It wasn’t like crawling on your hands and knees.

As he had discovered earlier, his elbows and knees were about mid-arm and mid-thigh, his wrists and ankles were where he would expect his elbows and knees to be. All those extra joints below them made it difficult to figure when he should move each one. Get one out of order — and his face met the floor.

Trying to “crawl” failed spectacularly when you didn’t use those “extra” joints — the hooves met the floor at weird angles and either bent wrong, and painfully, or simply skidded away. It might not be so bad on dirt where his hooves could get better traction, but on the wooden floors of this hospital it was far worse than trying to walk on an ice-covered path.

“Oh,” cried the nurse, quickly coming forward and trying to help him stand, again.

How she managed to help him back up without hands to grab him was a bit mystifying, but she did it. The doctor merely observed. Useless git.

Slowly, one leg at a time, he took a step, lifting each leg a bit higher than he really needed. He didn’t move the other three until the moving one was down and stable. He imagined he looked a bit like a cat he had once seen that someone had put little cloth boots over its paws. Taking high single steps instead of moving smoothly and elegantly across the floor. And looking completely ridiculous.

But at least he wasn’t falling down. With the nurse’s help he made it into the hall. Twilight was nowhere in sight, clearly not realizing that he hadn’t followed right at her heels. He sighed and sat a moment. “Thank you,” he said softly to the nurse.

She smiled down at him. “No problem, dearie,” she said, “I’m here to help you.” She patiently waited at his side.

He took a deep breath and, placing a hoof against the wall to steady himself, slowly rose to his hooves. His rear hooves, that is. It was actually easier to balance on the two rear hooves than all four because he only had to concentrate on two instead of splitting his attention to four. Walking upright would be quicker and have less face-meeting-floor time.

And while he had to worry about balance, that was a lesser evil. If he lost his balance on two legs he simply let himself fall to all fours. But if he started to fall from all fours, then he didn’t stop until his face met the floor.

With the nurse pacing him, and him occasionally placing a hoof against her back for balance, he made it to the reception area of the hospital rather quickly. Much faster, he thought, than trying to do it on all fours. The doctor, he noticed, trailed along behind him. He was, no doubt, taking notes and remaining useless.

The reception area was almost deserted with only the receptionist to watch as he made his way across the room to the front doors. Just as he came close to the doors, though, he saw a frantic purple pony running up the outside ramp. Fortunately, she looked through the glass before barging inside. Eyes wide in surprise, she slowed and opened the door, staring at him and the nurse.

He gave her a hesitant smile and hoped she wasn’t too upset he hadn’t been immediately behind her. If he wasn’t exactly where Aunt Petunia expected him to be when they were walking . . . well, the less said about that the better. As when he was with his Aunt, with the nurse beside him as a witness, the purple unicorn would remain cordial — although how she would react once they were behind closed doors he wasn’t as optimistic about.

“You’re walking on two legs,” she said wonderingly. “Why are you walking on two legs?”

He gulped. He hadn’t thought that she would mind him doing that, that she might be embarrassed by him doing that. He quickly dropped back onto all four hooves. And promptly face-planted as he tried to approach Twilight.

Before the nurse could move a purple glow appeared around him and lifted him into the air just high enough for him to regain his hooves. “Oh, yes,” she said, “I see. You aren’t used to walking the way we do.” She frowned a bit.

As did the Doctor on hearing what she said.

He closed his eyes briefly. She wasn’t happy. With magic, she could do things that Uncle Vernon had never thought to do. He felt his breathing become faster and a shallower. Maybe living with her would be a big mistake.

“How about this,” she suggested. “I’ll put my field under you and when you start to fall, I’ll catch you. That way you can practice walking without getting hurt?” She smiled happily, hopping back and forth between her front hooves.

She wanted him to walk like a normal pony, walking upright was forbidden. He nodded quickly.

“Goodbye,” he softly said to the nurse, “Thank you for your help.”

“Goodbye,” she replied with a smile.

Harry knew she watched them as they slowly left the hospital behind.

It was very strange to feel that light touch of Twilight’s magic field. At first, it was a nearly constant struggle to stay upright and he spent more time held up by her magic than walking on his hooves. And in the beginning she walked at a slow enough pace that he could easily keep up, but then she started talking.

“I’ve told my friends about you,” she said enthusiastically. “They can hardly wait to meet you.” When they reached the foot of the ramp, she turned left, sped up a fraction, and dragged him along behind her. “They’ve all gathered at the library to wait for us.”

He had no time to look around at the nearby buildings or Ponyville’s inhabitants, as he spent most of his energy, and eyes, on watching his hooves and trying not to slip up.

“Oh, this is just so exciting,” she said, speeding up again. His hooves barely had time to touch the ground before she moved him forward.

One of Dudley’s friends had had a small blow-up pool in their front yard one summer. Harry had watched from where he was weeding ’Tunia’s flowers as the kid’s dog had jumped into the pool. Dudley’s gang had all laughed hysterically when one of them held the small dog over the water and the dog had started to paddle his feet as if he were swimming in the water instead of suspended over it.

Harry felt something like that dog right now. He was moving his arms and legs as if he were walking, but the unicorn wasn’t letting him put any weight on his legs. He felt really stupid at the whole situation. And yet at the same time he found her magic absolutely amazing as it seemed to wrap entirely around his body like a blanket.

“Even your three filly friends are there! I’ve managed to get Pinkie Pie to tone things down to a small welcome party, but she’s insisting that later she’ll have a bigger party to introduce you to everypony. So today’s just a ‘welcome to your new home’ party. I hope you don’t mind.”

She sped up again. He gave up trying to walk and just curled his legs slightly above the ground. She was ignoring him completely as she talked, carrying him in her magic as if he were a package.

He didn’t even try to fake the appearance of walking, instead he stared at the odd buildings they passed and listened to her non-stop descriptions of her friends and how they met. She kept referring to these things called elements, how they reflected the personalities of her friends, and how proud she was of them.

One building looked like a carnival carousel and was owned by her friend Rarity, whom he would meet at the library. She was very generous, it seemed. Another was like a giant ginger-bread house with candies stuck all over it; her friend Pinkie Pie worked there as a baker, she was always arranging parties and making ponies laugh. “And she makes the best muffins and sweets you could ever want,” Twilight had explained.

Even the “normal” houses were odd, with roofs that looked like old-fashioned thatch, and walls that swept up in curves from the ground instead of straight verticals. There were bridges between some of the building that connected them on the first floors. Several looked like circus tents made out of wood with slanted walls and roofs that twisted and curved, and one even was shaped like a jesters cap, complete with round balls or other decorations at the top.

These ponies clearly had never heard of the concept of a zoning board. And yet, somehow, nothing clashed. Everything seemed to fit together in a cohesive whole that just seemed . . . right.

By the time they reached her home, the library, she was cantering along at a good rate of speed. She was moving far faster than he could hope to move on his own at the moment.

The library left him breathless with wonder. It was a giant tree with windows and balconies, and there were at least four floors inside. And from the greenery present, it was clear the tree was alive. How had they done that?

She flung the door open and trotted inside. Once they were inside she released him and he scrambled to stay on his feet at the unexpected drop. Fortunately, he managed to avoid face-planting again. She hadn’t even noticed she had been carrying him instead of merely supporting him as he walked. Or else she had thought that carrying him was less embarrassing for her than having all the ponies watch as he stumbled and almost face-planted behind her.

“We’re here!” she cried out cheerily as the door closed behind them.

The only resemblance the inside of the tree bore to a library was that there were hundreds of books on shelves that seemed to be a part of the tree. The only table was in the middle of the room, and it was currently buried under platters of what looked like cupcakes and muffins. The room extended upwards for two floors, easily. He could see several lofts over the ground-floor bookshelves with more books and the windows he had seen from outside. A banner hung across the opposite wall that said, “Welcome to Ponyville Harry Potter.” Crowded near the table were a bunch of ponies, and three fillies he easily recognized. A blue pony with a rainbow mane floated near one of the upstairs alcoves, slowly flapping its wings in an impossible feat that defied all laws of physics that he had read. He stared briefly.

Before he could take in more, there was a pink mass in front of him and someone yelling, “HI! I’M PINKIE PIE.” She thrust her leg out for a hoof-shake, “YOU MUST BE HARRY POTTER! I’m so . . . ,” the rest of what she was saying trailed off into silence.

Harry, having an adult suddenly in his face, shouting, and throwing out their hand in what he could only assume was a punch, reacted as experience had taught him. He dropped to the floor in a tight foetal curl. He tucked his arms tight to his sides to cover his ribs and stomach. He covered his face with his hands, now hooves, for protection as he screamed, “I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! I PROMISE I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN!” He waited, panting in panic, for the kick that inevitably came next.

۸-~-۸

8 — Library of Terror

There was only silence. He peeked out from behind a hoof to see the pink thing was a pony with the most upset, horrified look he had ever seen, her mane hanging limp around her face. Twilight, the purple one, looked absolutely furious.

Oh, God! He had embarrassed her in front of her closest friends. He whimpered, and with a few frantic kicks at the floor managed to hurl himself under a couch he hadn’t even realized he had seen. There was more silence.

He listened closely, shivering uncontrollably. His life most likely depended on knowing what was about to happen next. He should have known better than to expect things here to be different. At the Dursleys he knew the rules, here he didn’t. He had no right to expect the rules to be different.

“PINKIE,” hissed Twilight in a partial whisper. “I told you to be gentle and not to scare him!”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo quietly said, “He’s already tried to run through two walls the last time someone scared him. And that was Princess Celestia just being polite!”

“What was THAT about!” demanded an unknown pony at the same time.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” said another as she realized exactly what his reaction must mean.

There were hoof steps coming towards the couch, so Harry wriggled a bit farther back from the couch front. A moment later, a yellow pony laid down in front of him, and then lowered her head to look under the couch. She had a light pink mane. “It’s alright, Harry Potter” she said softly. “No one is going to hurt you, I promise.” She had gentle air about her, and she seemed nice.

There was something soothing about her mere presence that slowed Harry’s racing heart and eased his panicked breathing. He could hear some hurried whispering going on above and behind the yellow pony.

She smiled at him ruefully. “Pinkie is overwhelming when you first meet her. I know, because when I first met her I didn’t come out of my house for a week. I don’t think she could hurt anypony, not even by accident. She just wants to be friends with everyone and loves to give parties for any reason you can imagine! And many you can’t!” Her voice was calm and soothing.

She paused, then said, “Come on out, I promise you’ll be safe.” She continued coaxing in that vein for several minutes as Harry considered what to do next. The longer the yellow pony remained in front of him, the calmer he became, and he started to think again.

He couldn’t leave, he had nowhere to go, and knew nothing about this bizarre world he now found himself in. The Princess had ordered Twilight to take care of him, so she wouldn’t just let him escape, anyway. If he tried to run away, she would find him again, using her incredible magic, no doubt. Or just cast that scanning magic spell and follow the screams to where he was hiding.

Purple hooves walked over to the couch. He started shivering again. Twilight suddenly laid down beside her friend and looked under the couch at him. “I’m not mad at you, Harry,” she said softly. “I’m angry at your relatives for treating you so bad. I’ve never seen anypony react like you did just now, for any reason.” She sighed. “I’m really sorry you were startled like that by Pinkie. She really means no harm . . . she’s just . . . awfully enthusiastic about meeting new ponies and throwing them parties. She just wants to be friends with everypony, and to make everypony happy.”

Slowly, the two coaxed him into crawling out from under the couch. Only after he put his front hooves on the couch seat and pushed himself up to his hooves did he realize that he had once again automatically reverted to standing on two legs. He looked at the ponies with more than a bit of fear. He had forgotten that Twilight didn’t want him walking on two legs.

The three fillies were staring at him with awe, the adults were simply surprised. Twilight was looking at him with a calculating look that was directed more at his legs.

The yellow pony wrapped one of her wings around his hips in a move that felt oddly comforting to him.

“Oh! Oh!” cried the pink pony, making Harry flinch. “I can do that!” Her long straight hair puffed up slightly. She promptly jumped up onto her rear legs and sauntered over to Harry as if she had grown up doing that. Just as he now towered over the fillies, she towered over her friends, and him. Much more calmly, smiling widely, she said, “Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie.” She slowly extended her right foreleg down to him. “I’m so sorry I startled you,” she said in a sincere apologetic tone, her expression changing to very sad.

Hesitantly, he reached up and wrapped his “finger” around her hoof. It felt really weird to be doing a handshake with what amounted to his middle finger. But a full human handshake would have had him reaching halfway up her leg — all the way to the bend that on a human would be the wrist, but on a pony he would call an elbow — while her actual elbow seemed to be somewhere near her chest! On the other hand, or hoof, if he turned his hoof around and lifted it sharply, he was giving someone the middle finger — he could feel that his other two fingers were somehow pressed against the knuckle joint of his middle finger. Heh, he could give every pony he met the middle finger and they would never suspect it! That brought a brief smile to his face.

Encouraged, Pinkie suddenly was offering him a cupcake in her other hoof. He stared at it in confusion. How was she holding it with only the concave base of her hoof? Tentatively he tried to take it in his hoof, wrapping his finger around it. It was very awkward, but he managed.

He looked up at her and then over at Twilight, wondering if he could eat it. The purple unicorn nodded her head reassuringly. The yellow Pegasus nudged him, nodding as well.

He took a small nibble. It had to be the best, sweetest, cupcake he had ever had. It was also the first cupcake he had ever had — Dudley had made sure of that. He couldn’t help it as he looked over to the centre table to see if there were more of those wonderful things, and hoped he might be allowed to eat one more.

“Uh,” said one of the fillies, Apple Bloom, he thought, “You’re not supposed to eat the paper cup, too.”

He looked at his empty hoof, then over at her. “Oh?” he said, “You’re not?” He shrugged. “Tasted good, though.”

Pinkie’s eyes got big, or at least bigger than they were. “Make the paper cups food, too?” She started to hyperventilate. Harry wanted to take a step back, but his legs were already pressed against the couch behind him.

“Brilliant!” she yelled, jumping into the air and hovering there for a second. She ran out of the tree house so fast she left a pink outline drifting in front of Harry for a moment and a streak of pink out the door. The door opened and closed so fast it was like a flashbulb going off as they briefly saw the bright sunshine outside.

He blinked and looked at the other ponies. Twilight was face-hoofing while both the blue pony and the one standing beside Apple Bloom were just shaking their heads. The white one beside Sweetie Belle was rolling her eyes. The yellow one was standing beside him, still with her wing wrapped reassuringly around his hips so that he knew she was there and supported him. It helped keep him calm. He dropped back down to four hooves before Twilight got any madder at him for being on two. She shifted her wing to drape across his back and rear legs, and hugged him slightly.

“Well, anyway,” Twilight finally said, “These are my friends. This is Rarity,” she pointed to the white pony with a deep blue, almost purple, mane and tail, “she owns and runs the Carousel Boutique, as I told you. And that’s her sister, Sweetie Belle, beside her, whom you already know.”

“Hello, my dear,” the unicorn pony said with a cultured voice and delicate nod of her head.

Harry managed a meek, “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” back to her. He was not good at meeting adults. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had made sure any adults he met were well aware of his “reputation.” At all such meetings he was usually met with suspicious hostility. Anything short of meek was considered rebellious and disrespectful. If not by the other adults, then by his Aunt and Uncle.

“This is Applejack,” Twilight continued pointing to an orange pony with a yellow mane and tail and wearing a Stetson hat that was standing beside Apple Bloom. Like Apple Bloom she had neither wings nor horn. “It was her orchard, Sweet Apple Acres, where you were found by Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo. Apple Bloom is her sister.”

“Howdy,” that pony said, with the distinct American Western accent just like her sister Apple Bloom, but thicker. Harry wondered how that had happened — why would these ponies have southwestern yankee accents?

He nodded back to her and managed another meek, “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“And I’m Rainbow Dash, fastest Pegasus in Equestria!” the blue flying pony said excitedly, zooming closer. She quickly pulled back when she saw Harry flinch, crouch at the sudden movement, and edge back under the yellow pegasus’ wing. Rainbow Dash had a multi-coloured mane and tail, and buzzed around the library like a huge hummingbird. Her wings, however, beat far slower than those a normal bird would need to do to stay aloft. Harry could only stare in amazement.

Harry managed to squeak out, “Hello, ma’am,” blinking rapidly at the strange antics of the flying pony.

“The pony beside you is Fluttershy.”

Harry took another look at the yellow pony. She had a pink mane and tail. He smiled bashfully at her, and whispered, “Thank you.”

“And you’ve already met Pinkie Pie.” Twilight gave him a guilty look, “Sorry about her scaring you. She can be quite . . . enthusiastic at times and doesn’t realize how pushy she can be, sometimes.”

Harry simply nodded. It was best not to speak around adults unless they said something to him that he was supposed to respond to verbally. Nodding or shaking his head was always wiser.

Fluttershy led the tetchy colt to the food laden table and offered him another cupcake. The trip was not without pain, though, as his inexperience at walking on all fours dropped him on his face twice. He was sure he could have made the distance just fine on two legs, but he was afraid Twilight would get upset at him for his “freakish” ways. Fluttershy remained beside him, her wing across his back, nice and reassuring.

“Hey, Twilight,” he heard Rainbow Dash ask, “When did you get that couch? I don’t remember seeing it there yesterday.” Everyone turned and looked. To Harry’s amazed recognition, the couch looked like a twin of the one in the Dursley sitting room, but much bigger. It towered over him, his head barely reaching the seating cushions. Looking at it, he had to wonder, how had he managed to fit underneath it in the first place? The sofa bed certainly didn’t have a lot of room underneath the cushions!

He sighed. Magic. Naturally.

He was mystified as everyone else about the couch’s presence, as well as where it could have come from. After all, he had a magic-killing ring on his horn, so he couldn’t have done anything, right? He took the cupcake offered by Fluttershy and stuffed it into his mouth.

It was odd, it was actually harder to stand on three legs while using the fourth to hold the cupcake than it was to just stand on two legs. He really wanted to stand up, but dared not anger Twilight.

He quickly discovered that Scootaloo was Rainbow Dash’s fangirl. After egging Dash on to tell Harry about her exploits, she listened avidly as the blue Pegasus bragged incessantly about her prowess as a flyer. Rainbow Dash, it seemed, was quite the braggart and awfully full of herself. She seemed to enjoy being the centre of attention. The others listened and rolled their eyes, occasionally, but never said that what she said wasn’t true. Based on how the other ponies nodded and seemed to back up her claims, she must have had the ability to live up to her bragging. An unusual combination to Harry’s way of thinking. Most braggarts he had met actually had very little to brag about, making mountains out of bumps.

More than once, though, Harry was puzzled to hear references to something called the Element of Loyalty. How loyalty fit a braggart left him shaking his head.

He spent the next few minutes stuffing himself with cupcakes and muffins supplied by the yellow Pegasus. He only took what was offered and made no move to appropriate any on his own — doing that would lead to certain punishment. The Apple juice she gave him was sweeter than any he had ever had, and he quickly polished off the first glassful.

He watched as the others, even the adults, ate even more of the sugar-loaded foodstuffs than he did while he listened to Rainbow Dash pontificate on her greatness. He wondered if the ponies didn’t have to worry about diabetes with all the sugar they were downing.

Eventually, Twilight came over to them and asked if he’d like a brief tour of the library. He did, but worried if he would anger her with his clumsiness. He shuffled awkwardly on his hooves, not sure of how to answer without getting in trouble.

Fortunately, Fluttershy once more came to his rescue and guided him along the tour, her wing draped over his back. She let him lean against her to provide a stabilizing influence.

Almost directly opposite the front door and entryway was a winding staircase going up to one of the alcoves, “That’s where my bedroom is,” Twilight said. “It’s also where Spike has his basket.”

At the mention of the dragon’s name, Harry looked around and saw Spike standing beside the white unicorn, Rarity, looking up at her. From the look on his face, Harry suspected he was infatuated with the much older pony. He was also, to Harry’s amazement, apparently eating a jewel!

He looked back at the staircase, this time with a critical eye. Harry leaned sideways and examined the side of the staircase. The wall underneath the stairs seemed to be solid wood, as in the stairs were carved directly into the tree. There were no signs of a door, just more book-loaded shelves.

Hesitantly, he asked, “Where’s the cupboard door?” At the pony’s puzzled look, Harry pointed to the side of the stairs.

“Cupboard?” Twilight asked, puzzled.

Harry swallowed, “Uh, yes. You know. The cupboard where you’ll lock me in at night? You know, for sleeping?” Assuming she wasn’t just going to tell him to sleep on the floor. Or was he assuming too much? Did she have a shed out back she expected him to sleep in? Like the Dursleys sometimes did when they were especially angry with him or going somewhere for the weekend and didn’t want to bother Mrs. Figg?

She stared at him, appalled. “Sleep in a cupboard?” Her voice rose, incredulous at the idea.

His mouth was suddenly dry as he shrank back under Fluttershy’s wing and leaned against her. “Uh, yeah. That’s where I slept at the Dursleys,” he said in a very low voice. Ah, he thought and gave a slow nod, realizing that he was supposed to sleep outside.

Surprisingly, Fluttershy hugged him tightly against her side with her wing, and whispered, “Oh, you poor thing,” and turned her head to nuzzle his neck in a way that was oddly soothing.

“There isn’t a cupboard under these stairs in this library,” Twilight Sparkle said coldly. “And even if there was, you wouldn’t be sleeping there. Your bed is right beside mine, up there.” She pointed a hoof.

He sat down and stared up at her, and then up at the side of the alcove above. “I’m sleeping in the same bedroom as you?” he asked incredulously. “In a real bed? Like a normal . . . .” He stopped dead.

Her face rapidly went through several expressions but ended up smiling. “Yes, you have a real bed right beside mine,” she said emphatically.

All he could say was “Wow” in a very quiet voice. He had never slept in a room with someone else before. Not even at Mrs. Figg’s.

Fluttershy was hugging him tightly, now. He had never been hugged like this before, that he could remember. Certainly neither his Aunt nor his Uncle had ever hugged him. It felt awkward and almost uncomfortable, but at the same time it felt very nice. He didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing and let her do what she wanted. He had to wonder why she was doing it though.

While he was still thinking that through, Twilight Sparkle pointed to the door to the left of them. “That leads to the basement underneath us, which is my laboratory.” She gave him a severe look, “Don’t go down there without me, there are some very dangerous things down there, especially for a small colt like you. So, no exploring the basement! Got it?”

He nodded quickly, although he saw the three fillies exchanging looks. Scootaloo, especially, seemed interested in what was behind the door, and started slinking towards it.

The kitchen came next, as did the downstairs toilet and sink in a room tucked beside it. “There’s another toilet upstairs with a full bath and shower,” the purple unicorn said.

“Excuse me,” Fluttershy said very quietly as she took a step into the toilet room and closed the door.

Harry immediately sat down. He wasn’t about to fall on his face again, tonight, not if he could help it. He would wait right where he was for her to come out.

Scootaloo was the first to notice. She was in the middle of inhaling another muffin at the centre table when she stopped and stared at him. First her eyes opened wide, then they narrowed. She almost said something, but then she didn’t.

Alarmed, Harry looked around before realizing her eyes were riveted to his hip. She trotted over, staring.

He glanced down at his hip. He had already seen what she had just noticed. Right where all the other ponies had those strange tattoos, cutie marks, he thought they called them, he had a long scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Back at the hospital he had taken the time to carefully examine Nurse Redheart’s “cutie mark,” as she had called it. She had been quite proud of it, truth be told.

It wasn’t a simple tattoo where coloured ink was used to stain the skin permanently, that wouldn’t work with ponies where fur would simply cover up the artwork. Instead, the ponies’ actual fur was different colours. How they did that he wasn’t sure, but he was positive that the answer was magic.

However, in his case it wasn’t a tattoo that made his fur a different colour there, there was instead an actual scar carving its way through the fur, leaving a rift in the fur in the shape of a lightning bolt. If it weren’t for the torn skin revealed one might think that someone had merely cut the fur there close to the skin to make that lightning shape.

“What a shame,” the nurse had said, “When you get your cutie mark it will be defaced by that awful scar. Who would do such a thing to a foal?”

Knowing nothing about cutie marks nor what they meant in this pony society, he hadn’t really understood what she meant. To him, it was just a scar, like the one on his forehead.

“Oh. My. Sweet. Celestia!” Scootaloo said, “That’s not a cutie mark!”

The other fillies quickly crowded over and studied it intently. The adults drifted over to look as well.

“Does it hurt?” asked Apple Bloom, gently touching the scar.

Harry shrugged. “No,” he said softly.

Sweetie Belle looked a bit sick. She glanced at her own flank, then said in a half-whisper to her friends, “I think there are worse things than having a Blank Flank.” She moved around to his other side and gasped. “There’s one on this side, too!” The others pushed around Harry and stared.

Sweetie Belle leaned against him, nuzzling his neck. Apple Bloom moved to his other side and did the same. Scootaloo moved in front of him and leaned sideways across his front. She rubbed the back of her neck against his chin.

Harry found that to be as confusing as it was comforting. Not that he was upset about the scar or anything, but having the three fillies just leaning against him somehow made him feel better. But why were they doing that? Were they doing it for him? Or for themselves?

Fluttershy came out of the toilet-room and smiled to see the three fillies grouped around him, comforting him. Until, that is, Rainbow Dash told her about his scars. Then she briefly sported a horrified look before transitioning to one of pity. She once more wrapped her wing around him and cuddled him close. He wasn’t sure why.

That was pretty much the official end of the “party.”

Applejack was first to abandon them. “Come along, Apple Bloom, it’s getting tyme fer evening chores and then dinner. Ya know Granny will pitch a fit if we ain't thar.”

Harry had to wonder just how much of a dinner they would eat after spending the afternoon stuffing their faces with sweets. On the other hand, Applejack hadn’t seemed the least bit worried about Apple Bloom ruining her appetite by gorging on sweets before dinner time.

Back in Little Whinging he had heard kids complaining about their parents denying them sweets when dinner time was close. Never having had that problem, himself, he had found himself envious of having someone care if he ruined his appetite. With the Dursleys, he was lucky that they remembered to let him eat dinner at all.

“I have to check tomorrow’s cloud schedule,” Rainbow Dash said. She flew up to one of the alcoves that had an open balcony and left.

“I’m so sorry, but my animal friends are expecting me home to fix their dinners,” Fluttershy said, looking at Harry sadly.

Rarity was next, and said apologetically, “I have an important order to finish for tomorrow. And Sweetie Belle,” she gave her sister a glare to get her to move from Harry’s side, “has homework she needs to finish.”

Reluctantly, Scootaloo said, “Auntie Loft’ll be upset if I miss dinner again,” and after one last nuzzle against Harry’s neck headed out the door as well.

The library felt oddly empty after they all left.

۸-_-۸

9 — School Dazed

Dinner was a salad that Spike previously had prepared and placed in their refrigerator — basically a big wooden box with a magic spell on it to keep everything in it cold.

Twilight floated three big bowls onto the kitchen table and sat down. Spike hopped up onto a special chair that put him at the right height to eat. That left several other chairs grouped around the table. Apparently Twilight frequently had guests over to eat. Harry managed to climb up onto the chair where his salad had been placed. He had to prop his fore-hooves on the table.

And yes, he was right, Spike did eat jewels.

“But isn’t that expensive? Where I come from jewels are not cheap,” Harry said, staring.

“Nah,” said Spike, “You can find them all over the place out here. The expensive ones are the ones that can be enchanted.”

Harry shook his head wonderingly. “Where I come from, jewels of any kind are valuable and expensive. And enchanting is what they look like, not something you do to them.” He was amazed at the thought that what he considered valuable was as common as dirt.

He looked around his bowl for any silverware. He was about to ask where the forks were when he noticed that Twilight had levitated the salad into her muzzle and started chowing down. He frowned as he watched her, then decided to give it a try himself.

After several moments of nothing happening, Twilight noticed his difficulty and sighed. He felt a warmth around his . . . forehead . . . and a moment later he saw a large ring float over to Twilight. “I don’t think you need this anymore, do you?”

Harry had forgotten about that thing after wearing it for so long. It was as if a fog had lifted from his thoughts. They were clearer now. He shook his head, and again turned to stare at his salad.

“Spike, would you get Harry a knife and fork?”

“He’s a unicorn!”

“He also has never used his magic before.”

Sighing, the dragon-child grumpily got down from his chair and retrieved the utensils from a drawer.

“Hmm,” Twilight said quietly, “This is odd. This suppression ring is cracked.” She held it up rotating in front of her eyes. “It must have been defective.” She gave him a contemplative look. “I wonder when that happened.” A smile quirked her lips. “I guess we’re lucky you didn’t teleport away earlier, right?” She placed the broken ring on the table.

Harry just stared back at her.

Spike hopped back up onto his chair, sliding a knife and fork over to him.

Using what he used to call his index finger, Harry managed to pick up the fork.

At first he was taken aback when he saw the dandelions in his bowl, but then, he reflected, that as an herbivore such things were normal. To his surprise, it actually tasted good. All too soon he found himself licking the bowl clean — which Twilight never said a word about — and that was in spite of stuffing himself earlier with muffins and cupcakes!

The rest of the evening they spent with her teaching him how to levitate things. By the time he started yawning, and protesting he wasn’t the least bit sleepy, he had managed to lift a bottle cork.

He marvelled that his bed really was right beside Twilight’s.

He had never felt anything so soft before in his life, and he fell asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

۸-~-۸

Going down stairs as a quadruped was not a pleasant experience, Harry decided. The moment his butt was higher than his head, his brain insisted he was about to take a header down the stairs and to immediately stand and go down the stairs standing upright, like a proper monkey. So, he did. And it worked just fine. He wobbled a bit, and there wasn’t a railing to hold onto, but he made it.

Unfortunately, the next time he went down the stairs, Twilight was watching and he tried to do it as a pony would. And ended up tumbling the entire way down. It wasn’t too awful, that is he didn’t have a concussion nor a broken arm like the time Dudley had pushed him, but it was still disagreeable. It would take a lot of practice before he would ever feel comfortable doing that. He decided to learn how to teleport as soon as possible — if he could do it by accident, then he could bloody well do it on purpose! That way he could skip the stairs.

Harry stopped the moment he saw the school house. It was as unlike the primary school in Little Whinging as he could imagine. It was a wooden building, red, with fancy decorations of lines and diamonds painted on the walls. Giant hearts had been carved into the walls and then windows placed in them such that the tops of the windows almost covered the hearts, leaving the hearts’ tops and sides in view. The windows were tall and thin, easily double the height of the hearts, with a set of three visible on the side he could see. The roof was steep, with a bell tower capped by a heart-and-arrow shaped weathervane, and the roof’s edges were decorated with more hearts and curled lines. There was even a porch with its own tiny roof decorated exactly the same as the main roof. A flagpole was beside the building, featuring a galloping pony at the top and a red flag that ended with two points.

It was, without a doubt, the most girly building he could imagine.

And it terrified him.

In Little Whinging he had been excited to go to kindergarten, at first. A chance to get out of the Dursley house and actually meet other kids! Kids that weren’t Dudley’s friends, kids that Dudley hadn’t bullied into avoiding him. Kids whose parents didn’t think he was a miniature hoodlum.

That hadn’t lasted the day. Dudley had either chased off anyone interested in being a friend or alerted the other bullies about a new victim. He was right back where he had been at the house, only with more bullies. And, rather quickly, the other kids had discovered he was the perfect mug. They could do almost anything they wanted and as long as the teacher didn’t actually see them do it, they could blame Harry without worrying about getting into trouble themselves. Even the nice kids took advantage of the get-out-of-jail-free card that blaming Harry gave them.

Harry had discovered later that his uncle had sent a letter, via Dudley, to the teachers explaining that Harry was “untrustworthy.” That he was a liar and a thief. That if anything went wrong, it was most likely Harry at fault. And, for some reason, the teachers had taken what his uncle had said as gospel truth.

Since then, every advance in grade had been with the same kids as the previous year. The kids who had been interested in being a friend had turned on him. He became the outsider — no one liked him, everyone was mean to him. Sure there might be one or two new kids from families that had just moved to Little Whinging, but for the most part it was always the same group of bullies — almost everyone else in the class. And the new kids, perhaps being afraid of being treated the same as he was, went along with the group. Soon, they, too, blamed him for things they had done because they knew they could get away with it. Or they were mean to him because they needed someone lower in social rank than they were to vent their frustrations on.

Was this going to be the same? Was he again going to be blamed for anything and everything that went wrong? Was he going to be alone in a group?

“Are you alright, Harry?” She had noticed him shivering and the panicky look in his eyes. “There’s nothing to worry about. You’ll make lots of new friends. You already have three in Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom,” Twilight said warmly.

Harry wasn’t convinced. After the previous night’s total freak-out he wasn’t so sure they would want to have anything to do with him. That’s what would have happened in Little Whinging. Whoever had seen his melt-down would eagerly tell their friends while laughing, and then the entire class would spend days making fun of him. And ostracising him. In addition to their normal “blame Harry” incidents.

He took a shaky step forward and they slowly advanced to the school, with Harry dreading every step. Twilight kept encouraging and nudging him, but he didn’t hear a word of it over the pounding of his own heart and fears. He wasn’t like the rest. He was a person masquerading as a pony. Once again, he was the freak, the weird one in the bunch, the one who was different. They just didn’t know it, yet. But when they did . . . .

This time everything was backwards. The unicorns could do magic, the pegasi could fly, and the rest could make plants grow. All he could do was teleport when he was terrified out of his mind. He was a one trick fake pony.

Cheerilee met them at the door. “Oh, good! You’re right on time. Class will start in about half an hour and I want to go over a few things with you, Harry Potter.” She looked over to Twilight. “You can stay, if you want.”

Twilight looked at the way Harry was shivering, “Yes, I think I will, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Come on inside.”

Inside, Harry could see that the school was divided into two classrooms, one on each side, with a small anteroom for cloaks and boots.

“This room,” she pointed to the left, “is for the older students, like you Harry Potter.” She gave him a quick smile. “The other is for younger students and my assistant, Miss Hackney, teaches them.”

Harry nodded jerkily.

“What I’d like to do is for you to be up here by my desk when the school bell rings, then after everypony is seated, I’ll introduce you. I’ll tell them you just got out of the hospital yesterday and you might still be a little unsettled. Alright?”

Harry nodded in tandem with Twilight.

“Your desk will be this one here,” she said, walking into the classroom and placing her hoof on the back of a chair at the rear of the classroom. There were twelve desks, three across by four deep. His desk would be in the last row and in the middle. Each desk had a small stool to sit on.

Harry nodded.

“Now, then,” she continued, walking to the front of the classroom, “You’re more than a little behind the other students regarding Equestria’s history, so you’ll need to study hard to catch up.” She looked back at him. “I’m sure your little friends will be happy to help you. And if they can’t, Twilight can!” Twilight chuckled along with Cheerilee. “Your reading is slightly above your age level, Harry Potter, so that will help. Unfortunately, you can’t write with either your unicorn magic or mouth writing, so I’ll have to give you remedial lessons after school until you’re reasonably proficient.” She looked at Twilight. “It’ll be about an hour at first, then drop to half-an-hour for a while. Whatever help you can give him at the Library will speed that up.”

She stopped and stared at Twilight. “He’s a colt. He doesn’t have your single-mindedness. He needs time to play with his friends. No more than an hour a night! Okay?”

Twilight blinked, then nodded, “Yes, of course.”

“Your math skills are quite good, Harry Potter. You’re ready for secondary arithmetic already, a year ahead of your age group, which I’m told is almost ten.” She looked back at Twilight, “You might see if he has any interest in pursuing that, it would help with his spell casting, as you know.” She turned back to Harry, “I might ask you to help out some of the other students, if you think you wouldn’t mind?”

Harry stared at her, momentarily stunned out of his nervousness. Him? Help others? He nodded several times, “Er, yes, if you think I can help,” he said shyly.

“Excellent,” she said, very pleased. “Well, why don’t you put your school things in your desk while we’re waiting?”

A few minutes later he was back beside her desk. Waiting for the school bell. Listening to the growing crowd of ponies outside calling and yelling to each other. He noticed a couple of ponies poking their noses into the room and rapidly retreating upon seeing him. He kept shivering. He tried to control it by locking his knees, but that didn’t help. He couldn’t stop taking small gasps of air, and then nervously swallowing, as he stood there, waiting and trying not to run out of the room in a panic.

Finally, the minute hand of clock at the back of the room reached eleven. Cheerilee grabbed the rope in the room’s corner closest to the hall, and her desk, with her mouth and yanked down. The bell above the school began to ring.

Immediately he heard the stomping of hooves on the porch and running into the anteroom, then several ponies boisterously burst into the classroom, hurrying towards their desks. The first three through the door stopped only steps into the room, causing a bottleneck as the ones behind them, not expecting the leaders to stop, crashed into them and knocked them all to the floor.

Harry blinked at the pile of ponies at the classroom door. If he hadn’t been so anxious, he would have laughed at the jumble. It took several minutes to sort out as the ponies outside tried to push their way in so they wouldn’t be counted late and kept knocking down the ponies in front as they tried to stand back up. Cheerilee just stood and shook her head ruefully. Twilight hid her grin behind her hoof.

Finally, every pony was seated and staring at Harry. Except for the Cutie Mark Crusaders, of course, they were waving hello. They were in a group at the back, with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom sitting in front of Sweetie Belle. His desk was behind Scootaloo and beside Sweetie Belle. He smiled wanly at them, still taking small panicky gulps of air. His stomach hurt, too.

“Good morning, everypony!”

“Good morning, Miss Cheerilee,” responded the class.

She smiled broadly. “Today, we have a new student, Mister Harry Potter!” She waved a hoof towards him. “He’s only recently arrived in Equestria, so he’s going to need a bit of help in catching up with us in some subjects, such as Equestrian history, geography, the Princesses, and the nobles. Plus, he only got out of the hospital yesterday, so he is still a bit unsteady on his hooves. He’s recovering from breaking his shoulders, so please, no rough-housing until he’s completely recovered.” She stared at a couple of the colts.

“Now, then Harry Potter, would you like to tell us a little bit about yourself?”

Harry startled and stared at her, wide-eyed. She hadn’t told him she would do that! He looked out into the classroom and saw everypony looking at him expectantly. He opened his mouth, and at first nothing came out. But then, something did . . . .

All that air he had gulped came back up.

In other words, he belched.

Not a simple small burp, like from an upset stomach or a soda. No, this was different.

It was clear. It was loud. It was long.

And he couldn’t stop it.

Harry had heard telly shows where fog horns blew in the background.

This was deeper. This was louder. This was longer.

He could feel the floor vibrating under his hooves. Or was it that he was vibrating against the floor?

He imagined he could hear the windows shaking in their frames.

He sat back and clamped both fore-hooves over his mouth the moment it stopped. He stared at Miss Cheerilee, horrified. She’d throw him out for sure!

She was staring back at him in astonishment, as was Twilight.

The class stared at him in amazement. Most of the girls’ shocked expressions slowly moved to frowns of disapproval, although more than a couple of the colts grinned widely in delight. One loudly said, “Wicked!” and started to laugh. “That was awesome!” said another, laughing as well. Soon, the entire class was laughing.

Harry just stared at Cheerilee. It was only when the edges of her mouth twitched up and she said, “Well, that’s a memorable introduction!” that he started to relax. “Well,” she continued after a pause, “You might as well take your seat, Harry Potter.”

“Harry,” he mumbled, “Just call me Harry.” His face was hot with embarrassment, but at least his stomach didn’t hurt, anymore.

She nodded, “Okay . . .Harry.” And smiled.

All three of his filly friends gave him hoof bumps as he sat, and broad grins. Scootaloo murmured, “Wicked introduction!” to him

Morning recess was a mob around Harry as they all tried to question him. He tried to be as honest as possible without revealing he had come through a portal. He didn’t want them to think he was any more abnormal than he already appeared.

Twilight waved goodbye as she headed off to do whatever it was she did.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, Diamond Tiara brought everything to a halt. “That’s not a Cutie Mark! That’s a scar! What happened to you?” She pointed at his flank as she, and everyone else, stared at Harry’s butt, aghast.

Harry shrugged as he shuffled, embarrassed at the attention to his naked butt. “I don’t know, that’s always been there.” He tried to tuck his tail close.

She looked around at everypony and asked, “Does that mean you can’t get a Cutie Mark?” She shrank back, as if afraid she might catch a disease.

Harry shrugged again. “Twilight said I should get a Cutie Mark when the time comes. And that it might even erase the scar when it does. Or not.” He didn’t care one way or another. He didn’t understand what the fuss was about, he just wished they’d stop staring at his butt.

The end of recess brought an end to that line of questioning.

Lunchtime was fun. It was the first time he had ever had someone to play with on the swings and slides. And watching the pegasi fly around playing tag was enlightening. You had to watch in all directions!

As she had said, Cheerilee spent an hour with him after school teaching him how to hold a pencil in his mouth and write. The straight strokes weren’t straight, and circles were impossible. But even he could see an improvement when they stopped.

Twilight walked him back to the library while grilling him on his day.

However, before he started on more practice, either with his mouth writing or his magic, she wanted to do an experiment.

“I’ve spent all day devising these experiments, so we’ll know where to concentrate our efforts!”

۸- ̫ -۸

“Umm, Twilight?” Harry asked nervously, “I normally don't question the scientific method, but are you really sure this is going to work?” (*)

“First off, the scientific method is a body of techniques for investigating the phenomena of our world. What we are doing is simply one step in that process,” she replied airily while making sure the straps on Harry’s colander helmet were secure. Wires came out of it to the boxy desk his forelegs were propped against, and thence to some equipment at the side of the room. “Secondly, I know this will work. The Whooves-Gait test is the most accurate and well-known magical analytic test in existence.”

Harry gave Twilight a worried look.

“Now, because I’m doing a test on your magic you’re going to feel a slight tingle just under your fur.” Twilight put a pair of welder’s goggles over her eyes and then gloves, — no, gloves were for hands, those must be socks on her front hooves. They looked to be made of rubber. Those were for protection from the electricity, he supposed. He only now noticed that she had thigh-high work boots on her rear legs and was wearing a rather thick lab coat. “This tingling is normal, but please say something if you feel a burning sensation, all right?” she said soothingly

“What’s with the goggles and that outfit?” he asked worriedly.

“Safety first!” she said kindly as she pulled down a large electrical lever. Harry was not reassured. He winced as the lever clicked home.

The test was . . . well, it was strange. Harry squirmed a bit and tried to keep from laughing, but it wasn't easy. It felt as if someone had taken a feather and was using it to tickle every square centimetre of him. Thankfully, it only lasted for ten seconds before Twilight switched the machine off and moved eagerly to the printout that was now spewing from an opening on the side of the machine.

He was very relieved to discover that his scar had barely hurt at all, just a mild warm feeling on his forehead.

“Well,” Twilight said after perusing the printout. “You seem to have a normal affinity for magic. The magic surrounding you — a shield, for want of a better word — isn’t hostile and seems quite passive. However, the spell fragment in your forehead is hostile and the shield is only active at that location — the two seem to be in equilibrium with one another. The shield is powered by itself, apparently, which should be impossible. I suspect my test isn’t sensitive enough, which would mean that the ambient magic in the world is supporting the shield. And being ambient magic it shouldn’t be powerful enough to do that.”

She looked up at Harry. “You said you’ve always had that scar, so that must mean that there is magic in your world, or both the spell fragment in your scar and the shield would have fallen apart long ago.”

She danced a little quick-step, spinning in place, grinning broadly with her eyes wide and gleaming. “Oh, this is soo exciting! A self-sustaining shield without runes!” She looked over at her equipment. “I’ll get started on modifying this for tomorrow!” She sighed happily. “You, on the other hoof, should start practising your mouth-writing!”

Harry sighed and headed upstairs.

۸-~-۸

—Omake — (600)

Borrowed from Irrespective’s story “No Nose Knows,” fimfiction. With a few . . . alterations. (Included here just so I could do the omake below. And it’s an omake because Harry’s reaction is totally out of character for him at this time.)

“Umm, Twilight?” Harry asked nervously, “I normally don't question the scientific method, but are you really sure this is going to work?”

“First off, the scientific method is a body of techniques for investigating the phenomena of our world. What we are doing is simply one step in that process,” she replied airily while making sure the straps on Harry’s colander-turned-into-a-helmet were secure. “Secondly, I know this will work. The Whooves-Gait test is the most accurate and well-known magical analytic test in existence.”

Harry looked at the straps securing his fore-legs to the equipment he was leaning against. He gave Twilight an apprehensive look as she tugged on the rear-leg straps to make sure they, too, were secure. He was well and truly bound in place.

“Now, since I’m doing a test on your magic you’re going to feel a slight tingle just under your fur.” Twilight giggled oddly while putting a pair of welder’s goggles over her eyes and then black gloves — no, gloves were for hands, those must be socks on her front hooves. They were thickly quilted rubber, he thought. He only now noticed that she had thigh-high work boots on her rear legs — shiny black boots that looked sturdy enough to wade through lava.

She levitated a bulky white lab coat over her torso. According to the telly shows, lab-coats with stiff quilted criss-crossed stitching were usually lead-lined. “This tingling is normal and nothing to worry about,” she continued. “But please say something if you hear screaming that isn’t you, you start seeing dead ponies, or you feel as if your horn is being ripped out of your skull, all right?” she concluded sweetly and much too cheerfully.

He was becoming seriously alarmed and would have left, if he could, especially after that last statement. “What’s with the goggles and that outfit? And is all this,” he nodded and tugged at the straps as he asked nervously, “really necessary?” He gulped. He was even more immobile than he had been in the casts at the hospital.

“Safety first!” she shouted as she grabbed a large electrical lever and laughed maniacally. “Prepare to do SCIENCE!” she yelled enthusiastically as she yanked the lever down.

Harry was not reassured.

Harry wondered why she didn’t use her magic to pull the lever.

Harry winced as the lever clicked home.

There was a moment’s thoughtful silence. Then he screamed. Twilight reflexively slammed the lever to the opposite position. “Harry!” she yelled, panic-stricken.

He slumped back into the chair.

His head lolled to the side, eyes almost closed.

“I’msorryI’msorry!” she shouted as she darted over to him. “Whereareyouhurt?” She began frantically casting diagnostic spells.

He cracked an eyelid wider open and looked at her, grinning widely. “Gotcha!” he whispered. Then he started to laugh.

Twilight stared at him uncomprehendingly. Slowly, she sat back onto the floor.

“You should have seen your face!” he said, between bouts of laughter. “You should see your face, now!” he amended, laughing even harder as he tried to point a strap-restrained hoof at her.

Later, as he hung magically stuck by his hooves to the basement ceiling, he shouted, “I regret nothing, nothing, I say.” He chortled. “Oh, god, her expression! Purr-riceless!”

Up above, he heard the library door open and hoof-steps enter. They came to a slow stop. After a moment, he heard Applejack say, “Twilight? Why is yer basement giggling?”

۸- ̬ -۸

10 — The Ponyville Lake Siege

Later that evening, he startled Twilight when she saw him writing with his fetlock grasping the quill

“Well, I already know how to write, and my tongue and lips were getting tired, so I decided to try to write with my hoof,” he explained. He pointed with his other hoof, “This is like the tip of my finger.” He pointed at his fetlock joint, “and this is my knuckle.” He indicated the big bone that was next, “This is my palm. And this is my wrist.” He pointed much farther up his foreleg.

He grinned at her and held up his fetlock-held quill. “This is like holding a pen in the palm of my hand instead of with my fingers.” He frowned. “I don’t have nearly as much control as I used to. I have to move my whole arm to write, but it’s so much easier than that mouth-writing,” he concluded.

“Really?” She came over and inspected how he was holding his quill. Books started to fly over and a moment later they were both looking at a drawing of a pony’s foreleg and comparing it to a drawing of a dragons “hand.”

“You’re right!” she said excitedly. “You’ll have to show this to Cheerilee, this might be a new and better way to write!”

He stared at his hoof. “It would be even easier if I had something I could fit onto my hoof to hold the pen. Then I’d only have to move my hoof instead of my leg. It’d make it much easier and faster!”

A spoon came flying out of the kitchen. A minute later, with the help of a couple of sticking and bending spells, Harry was writing much better than he had been, and almost as well as he used to in Little Whinging Primary.

Harry grinned happily. No more staying after school learning to write all over again.

۸-~-۸

Unfortunately, Harry discovered on the next day, Miss Cheerilee disagreed. While she allowed him to write how he wanted, she insisted he learn how to mouth-write, just in case he ever hurt his right foreleg. This afternoon lesson would be the last one, but she did tell him she planned to test him periodically. And have Twilight work with him in the evenings.

To Harry’s surprise, after finishing practice mouth-writing that afternoon, the three fillies were waiting for him.

“We thought you might like to join us in crusading today,” said Sweetie Belle.

“Yeah,” said Apple Bloom, “We’re almost finished with our siege engine!”

“Cutie Mark Crusaders Mass Destruction Engineers! YAY!” shouted Scootaloo.

Harry stared at the three ponies. “Ookkkaaaay,” he said slowly. Were they pretending they were ancient warriors or something?

“Come on,” Scootaloo said, turning and heading for a scooter with a small wagon behind it. The other two quickly hurried after her and hopped into the wagon. Harry followed a bit slower, taking steps carefully.

So, this was the contraption that they had used to convey him to the hospital. The scooter was surprisingly familiar, just not as tall and much longer than the ones he was familiar with — not unreasonable considering the fillies were longer than they were tall and needed the extra foot-space.

One leg at a time, he climbed into the wagon, which was barely large enough for the three of them. The other two didn’t seem to mind the close quarters at all, so Harry tried to ignore his discomfort at being in close contact with others. And wearing no clothes.

Scootaloo gave a solid push with her right-rear leg and started flapping her wings at an incredible rate. That, Harry realized, was the odd buzzing sound he had heard that first day. And it was a very easy method for moving the scooter. Much better than periodically pushing with one foot. And allowed faster speeds, as he discovered to his dismay.

“We’re goin’ ta my place,” Apple Bloom explained as they hurtled through the town at an insane speed for such a small vehicle. “That’s whar we’re building the tree-book-shed.” Harry gripped the sides of the wagon tightly as they bounced up, down, left and right, and sometimes on two wheels even though they were going straight. He briefly considered grabbing the wagon-side with his mouth for additional safety, but was afraid he might lose a few teeth on the bigger bumps. The ride became progressively worse as they left the road and started across the orchard in Sweet Apple Acres.

A few terror-filled minutes later they coasted to a stop beside something Harry had only seen in books. A trebuchet on wheels — a stone-powered catapult with a sling.

It had a horizontal rectangular frame, with one set of three poles on each side forming the vertical supports — which had to be twelve feet high, at the shortest. They held up the throwing arm, which towered over them by another twelve feet. Attached to the bottom of the arm, barely above the bed of the trebuchet, was a large empty bucket. A rope hung from the top of the arm. Midway down the rope was what looked like a heavy-weave section of cloth. The end of the rope dangled into a trough, centred between the supports, which ran the length of the rectangular base. Carved into the side was “Made by Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom — Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

Harry slowly walked around the device, staring in disbelief. He turned to the fillies who were at the edge of the path separating the property from the forest. They were filling Scootaloo’s wagon with rocks as fast as they could find them.

“Where did you get this?!”

Scootaloo looked up and said, “Come on, help us fill the bucket.”

Harry walked over to them and half-heartedly picked up a fist-sized rock in his fetlock and dropped it in the wagon. “Where did you get that?” he repeated.

“We built it!” Apple Bloom said proudly after dropping another rock in the wagon.

“And let me tell you the arithmetic on how big to make it was a killer!” added Sweetie Belle, adding another rock.

Harry just stared at them, speechless. Finally, he said, disbelievingly, “You built it?”

“Yep.” came the chorus, accompanied by the thuds of three more rocks dropping into the wagon. “Took us almost a whole week after school,” explained Sweetie Belle as she levitated another rock into the wagon.

It took them the rest of the afternoon to load the trebuchet’s bucket using the ladder and their saddlebags. By the end, Harry was levitating rocks the size of his hoof into the wagon. And he was almost exhausted.

Then they pulled the throwing rope down until the top of the throwing arm was at bed and the bucket was lifted high. A short rope loop tethered the arm to the trebuchet’s bed. The end of the throwing rope had a small loop, which they placed over a pin sticking out of the throwing arm.

Now that it was closer he could see there were two ropes, one tied to each end of the sack. They pulled the sack down the length of the trebuchet’s trough until the ropes were stretched out almost completely to the opposite end from the pinned throwing arm. It took all four of them to roll a small boulder onto the sack. They pulled the sack edges out around it to form a cloth cup. Just like the cup of a slingshot, Harry realized.

Finally, Scootaloo ran up to the lynch-pin holding down the throwing arm. “Okay, fillies! Ready?” She grabbed it in her teeth. Harry tackled her before she could pull it.

“NO! NO! NO!” he shouted. “NOT SAFE!” In a calmer voice, he said, “Let’s tie a rope to the pin and pull it out when we’re at a safe distance, so if something goes wrong nobody gets hurt! Okay?”

Grumbling about unnecessary delays, Apple Bloom ran back to their clubhouse and returned with a coiled rope. Far more than they needed, but that was alright.

A few minutes later, the four of them stood thirty feet away. Harry felt they were still far too close but he couldn’t convince the girls to go any farther away. Scootaloo again said, “Ready? Here goes!” She grabbed the rope in her mouth and backed up quickly. The rope went taut and then slack as the pin popped out.

It looked like it was moving slow at first as the arm started to swing upright, but the sling moved quickly down the trough in the middle of the bed and then lifted the boulder into the air. They watched the boulder shoot out over the orchard.

“IT WORKS!” shouted Scootaloo.

“WAHOO!” shouted Apple Bloom.

“YES!” shouted Sweetie Bell, pumping her right foreleg.

“Oh my god,” said Harry, “It worked. And it didn’t kill us.”

The three fillies ignored him in favour of immediately turning to look at their flanks. “Ah, horsefeathers,” said Scootaloo at not seeing a cutie mark.

A moment later, they heard a crash. The fillies ran as fast as they could while Harry hurried as fast as he dared. The boulder had gone almost two hundred feet before hitting a tree — and snapping it in half while knocking it over.

“Uh, oops?” said Scootaloo.

“Aw, horsefeathers! AJ’s gonna kill me!”

They started kicking and pushing the boulder back to the siege machine. They had barely moved it fifty feet before they heard the pounding of hoof-beats. “Aw, Celestia, I’m in so much trouble!” mumbled Apple Bloom, shaking her head dejectedly.

Applejack came into view at a full run, with Big Mac right beside her. They slowed on seeing the three fillies and Harry.

Harry sighed. He knew the script for this story. He would end up being blamed and banned from seeing Apple Bloom, which would mean losing the other two as friends as well. Well, it had been fun for the short while it lasted. On the other hand, or hoof, they had saved his life. And the few times he had admitted to doing something wrong back in Little Whinging his punishments had not been as severe — at least at school.

Applejack and Big Mac came to a halt and alternated looking at the four, the boulder, and the splintered broken tree. “What in tarnation happened here?” Applejack stared at Apple Bloom accusingly. She already suspected the CMC were responsible for this mayhem, the only question was how.

“Well . . . ,” started Apple Bloom.

“Um . . . ,” started Sweetie Belle.

Scootaloo tried to look innocent, as if she had no idea what Applejack was talking about.

“It’s my fault,” Harry said.

Five heads swivelled to look at him, with expressions of varying degrees of incredulity.

“When the girls showed me the trebuchet they built, I couldn’t wait to see it work,” he continued.

Applejack looked at Big Mac and mouthed the word trebuchet?

“It looked just so cool! So we loaded the bucket with rocks and then put this boulder in it. I should have said something about which way we were aiming, but I was in too much of a hurry to see it work, so I didn’t say anything.”

Which was a lie. He hadn’t paid any attention at all to which way the silly thing was pointing, he hadn’t even expected it to work!

But if it kept the girls from getting into any trouble, then it was worth it.

Applejack looked at him, then sadly shook her head. “Oh, Harry, ya can’t lie to me. Didn’t Apple Bloom tell you Ah hold the Element of Honesty? I ken smell a lie faster than you can say it.”

Harry let his head hang down. That was right, Apple Bloom had mentioned it. He had just thought it meant she was really bad at telling lies, not that she could detect lies, too.

“Let’s try again. What happened?”

Ten minutes later, the two adult ponies watched with dropped jaws as a repositioned trebuchet launched its boulder two hundred feet down the path between Sweet Apple Acres and the Everfree forest. It smashed into a tree at the edge of the forest, breaking the trunk in half. They had been aiming for the middle of the path

Applejack looked at the siege engine. “Why in tarnation did you all build this?”

“Well,” Apple Bloom explained, “I was doing homework on the Earth Pony tribe two weeks ago and the book mentioned the ancient siege engines the Minotaurs used against them.” She started to get excited, “And I thought, ‘Hey, there’s something we could try, building siege engines. So I went to the library and asked Twilight Sparkle if she had any books on how siege engines were made. She pulled a couple off the shelves and I copied the one plans for the one that looked easiest to build. The arithmetic was difficult, but Sweetie Belle worked it out.”

“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle, getting into the story. “The book had these e-qua-sions that all I had to do was put in the weight we wanted to throw and then when I finished the arithmetic it told us how long each piece in the engine had to be to work. I figured about a pony’s weight would be cool.”

Applejack sat down and stared at the trebuchet. Harry figured she would be having words with Twilight about just which books she allowed the fillies to read.

Harry turned and looked, too. It was quite a work of art, actually. And three fillies had built it in a week. That said volumes about their commitment to the project and how hard they had worked. It even had their names carved into its side. Harry was impressed. He couldn’t imagine anyone from his primary school doing anything like this, not even if a whole class worked on it.

Applejack slowly stood, then faced the four of them. “Ah’m impressed,” she said slowly.

The fillies burst into brilliant smiles. Harry frowned. He knew there was a big “But . . . .” about to be said. In cases like this, there always was.

“But,” she continued as the fillies’ ears fell back, “Ya’ll made quite a mess out of one of my trees.” She stared at them threateningly.

They spent the rest of the day, and after school the next day, chopping the ruined apple tree into smaller woodstove-sized pieces. They picked up the cut pieces and hauled them back to the house to cure for next year’s use. Big Mac was their occasional supervisor.

Oddly, they discovered that the centre of the tree was rotted out. Applejack had noticed that for the last two harvests that tree’s apples hadn’t been as good as the other trees’. She would have probably had it removed in a few years, anyway. The CMC had just moved up the removal date.

۸-~-۸

Two weeks later, on Saturday, when the fillies were finally off being grounded, they were once more standing beside their siege engine — at Scootaloo’s insistence.

“You know,” Scootaloo said speculatively, “I bet I could fly farther than that apple tree with this thing . . . .”

Sweetie Belle looked at her. “What?”

Apple Bloom looked at Scootaloo, and then at the trebuchet, and then back at her again. Then the red-maned pony’s eyes went wide open. “Ya aren’t thinkin’ . . . ?”

Harry looked at Scootaloo and put his right foreleg over his eyes. “Yes, Apple Bloom, that is exactly what she’s thinking.” He walked over to Scootaloo. “It’s too dangerous. We have no control over where you would go, and hitting a tree, even by accident could kill you!”

“But that won’t happen! I can fly! I know I can!”

Harry closed his eyes. He had a headache starting.

Then, he had an idea. He smiled.

“Sweetie Belle?”

She looked at him.

“Isn’t there a lake nearby?”

“Yes. Ponyville Lake.” After a thoughtful pause, she smiled, too.

It took them almost two hours to haul the siege engine to the lake. Just following the path didn’t do it as sometimes two trees grew too close together for the trebuchet to fit between them, thus they had to find a way around them. Still, soon enough, they were looking down the small incline to the lake.

Harry studied the lake and then the trebuchet. They were about a hundred feet away and the lake looked easily to be twice the length of a football field across from here. Perfect. No chance of overshooting.

“Let’s move the trebuchet over to the side by that tree. We don’t want to block the path,” he suggested.

Once it was in place, and blocks placed to prevent it from rolling, they pulled the throwing arm down, set the lynch-pin, and then set the looped-end of the throwing rope over the holding peg at the tip of the arm. With four of them at work, it didn’t take long.

While the three fillies started getting Scootaloo ready, Harry ran the rope from the lynch-pin over around a nearby tree trunk and back over to the fillies. This was a dangerous scheme, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to talk Scootaloo out of it.

And she had saved his life. It was his turn to keep her safe.

“Is your helmet on tight?” asked Sweetie Belle as she used her magic to give the strap a sharp tug.

“Yep.”

“Give me yer saddlebags, ya don’t need them,” said Apple Bloom pulling the release strap with her teeth.

He knelt down and tied the rope loosely around Scootaloo’s leg.

“Are your wings okay? Not tired er anythin’?”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes, but stretched her small wings out. “They’re just fine.”

Harry trotted calmly over to the trough and settled himself onto the cloth launching cup. He pulled the cloth cup up over his back and made sure all his hooves were tucked tight against his torso.

“Hey!” called Scootaloo, “What’re you doing, Harry?” She started towards him.

“Just making sure this is safe for you girls,” Harry called back.

Harry saw Scootaloo feel her left-rear leg get pulled as the rope went tight against the tree. Scowling she took another step and yanked her leg forward, thinking Apple Bloom had grabbed her hoof.

The rope went taut. Apple Bloom said, “Hey! What’s with the rope?”

Sweetie Belle said, “Stop, Scootaloo, stop!”

Harry watched as Scootaloo yanked her leg again, turned, and yelled at Apple Bloom, “Let mah leg go!” He heard the “pop” as the lynch-pin came free. The cloth cup was suddenly hard against his back. He slid halfway down the trough, then felt himself lifted into the air. The world shot by faster than any car he had ever ridden in as he was slung around in a half-circle and found himself flying through the air upside down. To the side, then below, and then behind him he heard three shrill voices crying “HARRYYY!”

He tumbled out of control through the air. The sky alternated with ground and then water. It was kinda fun, he thought, until he realized all he could see was the water rushing up at him. Then his plan's flaw in trying the trebuchet first came to mind.

He didn’t know how to swim.

The splashdown knocked the air out of him. He kicked furiously, terrified he was about to drown. His head popped to the surface and he took a deep breath before going under again.

But he had kicked himself to the surface, He started paddling and kicking as hard as he could. And, remarkably, he returned to the surface and stayed there. He was doing a dog . . . pony paddle.

He didn’t have the slightest idea where he was going, but at least he wasn’t drowning. Until, that is, Scootaloo almost ran him over. She was clutching a board in the water barely bigger than she was, and her wings were beating like a hummingbird. “Are you alright?” she cried.

“Ahhhh!” he said, “Don’t kill me!” He paddled frantically, turning to keep her in sight after the board’s wake rolled water over his head.

She didn’t. Instead, she gave him the board to hold while she hooked her legs around his body and used her wings to propel them back to shore.

Now that he knew it wouldn’t kill them, the trebuchet became the ultimate diving board. They each took turns, with Scootaloo going the farthest, of course. Harry kept his hooves on the ground, and would stay there until he felt confident that he could swim across the lake without drowning first.

By then it was midmorning and the other kids seeking a little recreational swimming started to show up. And they wanted to try the pony thrower, as they called it. A line rapidly developed with eager teams of Earth and Unicorn fillies and colts pulling down the firing arm in anticipation of their own experience at flying like a Pegasus.

Contests quickly developed for the most tricks performed before splashdown. And most graceful. And biggest splash.

The loud, and unusually clear, happy screams coming from the vicinity of the Ponyville Lake — now that the screamers were higher than the hill between the town and the lake — quickly drew the attention of the adults. Just what were the fillies and colts up to this time?

“But it’s not made for adults,” Sweetie Belle explained. “I designed the weight for a filly or colt. You won’t make it to the lake.”

“I’ll go first,” said a pegasus stallion. “If I fall short, I can just fly instead.”

He didn’t fall short. He didn’t go as far as the fillies and colts, but he made it past the shallows. Screaming adults brought the rest of the town to the lake.

Unfortunately, the adults “modified” the “pony-pitcher,” as it had now been renamed, so that an adult had to be there to “unlock” the arm for use.

But, then again, that wouldn’t be too difficult a thing to accomplish — based on the adult scream coming from the trebuchet as it swept yet another earth mare off the trough and flung her out across the lake at almost one hundred miles an hour. That was by-far faster than any non-Pegasus had ever moved before — even the fastest of Equestria’s trains didn’t top more than forty-five.

Indeed, the problem might be getting the adults to leave enough time for the fillies and colts to use it!

To prevent the trebuchet from being moved, the CMC, with some help from the other colts and fillies, levelled part of the hill, removed the wheels, and anchored the frame with short posts. The trebuchet was now a permanent fixture for lakeside fun. A fitting end, Harry thought, for something designed to destroy.

۸- ̬ -۸

Almost every morning was surreal — Harry had never shared a room before. Waking to a room lit by the morning sun was merely unusual — when he stayed with Mrs. Figg she let him sleep in a real bed, which was softer and more comfortable that his cot in the cupboard, but not by much — and she didn’t make him fix her breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

But the rest? Yeah, Surreal. Listening to them lightly snoring — was there a spell that could stop that? Not that it was a real problem, just curiosity — while lying in a bed so soft it might as well have been a cloud. Moving his legs under the covers — no hands or feet anymore, watching the shadows play across the ceiling and walls as he just . . . enjoyed not doing anything and knowing he wasn’t going to be punished for it.

He usually started on his meditations.

Eventually, though, his bladder would inform him that he needed to move.

The bathroom upstairs was spacious, much more so than he had expected. The tub and shower were larger, which they would have to be to fit a mostly horizontal quadruped instead of a vertical biped. The toilet . . . was an experience. And awkward for a biped, which he wasn’t anymore. But he was never in a hurry. At first, he didn’t use the tub/shower because he was afraid he’d make Twilight angry if he woke her and she couldn’t immediately use the facilities herself. Later, he waited as a courtesy to his host.

As quietly as possible, he’d sneak down the stairs — no easy feat when your feet are actually hard bone hooves! No matter how gently he placed his hooves down there was always a little “clunk.” Still he usually managed to make it to the ground floor without waking the others.

He always started the day reading and studying. He tried to find the simplest of the books on a given subject and levitate it down — that is, he used his levitation magic to pull the book far enough forward off the shelf for it to fall. The first time he had done that, it had hit him on head. Hooves, he had found, were terrible at catching things. He had sighed. “Note to self,” he had murmured, rubbing his forehead, “don’t stand under objects you are learning to levitate.”

Then he would retire to the reading table and settle in.

Which was where Twilight and Spike would find him when they came down stairs.

After breakfast, and his shower, he would go off to school during the week, and off with the Cutie Mark Crusaders on the weekends. The evenings he spent reading up on the topics he didn’t know that every colt and filly knew — history, literature, geography, and everything about the Princesses and nobles in Canterlot. Which, coming from a human world, he found fascinating instead of the boring tedium that the other colts and fillies complained about.

And being grounded in a library, after yet another Cutie Mark Crusade misadventure, wasn't something he would call punishment.

۸- ̬ -۸

11 — Meanwhile . . .

Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, (Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards), looked up from his desk and smiled slightly. He waved his hand gently. The door to his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry opened just as his Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, reached the landing outside it.

“What can I do for you this wonderful morning, Minerva?” he asked congenially, leaning back in his chair.

“The same thing you do every year at this time, Albus,” she replied in her usual no-nonsense tone. “Tell me how Harry Potter is doing.” She sighed as she sat in the chair opposite his desk. “This is his tenth birthday. Only one more year before he comes to Hogwarts.”

Smiling, the old wizard looked at the bookshelf against the wall of his office and behind his Transfigurations professor. To anyone else, he looked as if he was simply looking up and thinking. Instead he was examining three certain silver devices hidden among the several dozen residing on the bookcase’s top shelf. “Let’s see,” he said thoughtfully. He studied them as if he didn’t check them every day, after waking and before bed.

One looked like a metronome, its black wand moving slightly back and forth instead of standing straight up or pointing to either side. Its triangular backing and round base were both a neutral silver-grey in colour, although the backing had thirteen horizontal black lines that divided it into fourteen equally tall sections.

He closed his eyes momentarily and said, “Harry is doing well, but he is neither happy nor sad.”

“I would expect him to be excited on his birthday,” she said frowning severely.

“Perhaps he is still asleep,” the Headmaster gently countered, his eyes twinkling. “Sleeping-in on such occasions is not unusual.”

“Still, it is rather odd that every time I ask, you give the same response. I find it troubling that Harry never seems to be happy,” she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

Dumbledore shrugged delicately. “The burdens of being brought up by your aunt and uncle instead of your mother and father, I expect,” he said.

He looked to his next instrument, a squat, round tube lying on its side and sealed at both ends. A long thin smokestack, almost as tall as a textbook and taller than the cylinder was long, stuck up from the nearest end. Eleven black lines divided the cylinder into twelve sections, and all were a dull silver-grey. It was sending up small puffs of white smoke from its chimney. Its square base was a bright silver platform.

Again, he closed his eyes, then said, “He is in good health, and has been for the last year, as usual. No injuries of any kind, not even a minor scrape.”

McGonagall shook her head. “Now that is unusual. His grandmother told me his father never made it through a week without some kind of cut or scrape, even if it was just tripping on the front steps and barking his shin.”

“His mother, on the other hand,” the old wizard said, “rarely had such problems, I recall you telling me.”

Professor McGonagall reluctantly nodded.

The Headmaster looked at the third device on the shelf. A simple vertical wheel spinning and shimmering with all the colours of the rainbow. Its base was oblong. And the support was a half-circle. It was actually a bit hypnotic, and he sometimes found himself watching it when he was stressed.

He smiled. “His mother’s protection on the Dursley home is still as active as ever,” he said happily. “Showing that he is getting the love he needs from his aunt. It certainly isn’t as great as his mother’s. But it is there. Just as it has been for the last nine years. And, no one has attempted to breach the protective charm since I placed it.” He looked back at his Deputy in mild reproof.

She nodded.

“So, Minerva,” he said softly, “Have I managed to lay to rest your concerns for the coming year?”

“I still think you should visit Harry instead of relying solely on monitoring charms. Even the muggle social workers visit their charges on occasion to evaluate what is really happening instead of relying on second-hand information.”

He shrugged, “A visit might inadvertently disclose his location to wizards we would rather not have that knowledge. A skilled practitioner could follow even me without being detected were I to chance it. Which is the reason why I’ve requested you and Hagrid to not visit the child, and all the others to not look for him.

“And can you imagine what the Daily Prophet would print if they knew he was living with muggles? And how to find him? And what the Wizengamot would do in reaction? Or the Death Eaters that managed to escape capture ten years ago?”

She shuddered, “Yes.” She fixed him with a steady gaze. “But monitoring charms can only tell you so much. Visiting Harry, if only for a few minutes, would tell you more.”

Again he shrugged. “My charms are rather thorough. I have complete faith in them in relaying to me all the relevant information I need.”

He smiled at her, “Besides, Mrs. Figg checks up on him regularly.”

Minerva rolled her eyes. “A squib who sees the boy once every few months when the Dursleys ask her to watch him is not the same as going into their home and seeing his living conditions, Albus. And if the Dursleys don’t call her, she can tell us nothing. She doesn't even live on the same street, so she can't tell us if she happens to see him outside in the summer. And didn’t you tell me that last year they only called her four times, including just once since January?”

Half-heartedly, the Headmaster nodded. “Yes. And as he gets older I imagine they will rely on her even less. However, if he were to come over to her house and showed signs of being treated badly, she would have told us. And she can’t very well sneak over there and peek in their windows, now can she?”

Reluctantly, she said, “No. Well, I guess this will just have to do, won’t it?” She sighed. “I still think placing him with those muggles was a mistake.”

He sighed, in turn. “We’ve been over this before, Minerva. I had no real choice. Black was in Azkaban, Amelia had lost almost her entire family and was in no shape to take on a toddler. Mary, Emmeline, Hestia, and Dorcas were all single. And Remus’ monthly problem would have made it impossible to keep his location a secret. And the Death Eaters were carefully checking all the Grey and Light families looking for the child in the days after the attack, and before the Longbottoms were targeted. So my choices were either the Dursleys or sending him overseas.” He looked her levelly in the eyes. “I stand by my choice.”

“I know,” she muttered softly. “I just wish it could have been different.”

She stood. “I’ll see you at lunch, then.” She left his office, the door silently closing behind her.

Dumbledore sighed and looked at his fourth monitoring device, a simple vertical stick on a small round disk, with three lights in a small vertical rectangular box on top. A muggle would immediately recognize its traffic-pole shape. As it always was, the red and yellow lights remained unlit while the green one glowed dimly.

He hadn’t told anyone of the existence of the last two of the five devices on the shelf designed to monitor the boy at all times.

While the wizards couldn’t find Harry at home, that didn’t prevent a clever Death Eater from hiring or charming an unknowing muggle into doing their dirty work for them. It might take years for such a strategy to work, but Death Eaters were known to be patient when necessary. Thus, the fourth device monitored his very special muggle-repelling charm on Harry. Any muggle with the intent to kill Harry, remove him from his relatives, or trying to interfere in the family, would be subtly redirected and made to forget what they had intended to do. It reinforced anything his aunt and uncle told others, to help distract attention from Harry. If they told someone to leave the boy alone, that person would do just that.

The old wizard was pleased to see that the all-black device hadn’t the least bit of colour anywhere except the green light. That meant no one had approached the boy or interfered in his relationship with the Dursleys for at least a year. The same as all the previous times he had checked. Like the other devices, it tracked Harry for the last twelve months, or fourteen days for the happiness monitor. He hadn’t bothered to make the devices track things any longer, not seeing the necessity.

Albus next looked at the crystal globe filled entirely with white smoke, last of the five devices monitoring Harry. It was on a simple silver base. He smiled to himself. That had been a stroke of genius, although devilishly hard to cast correctly. It watched Dumbledore’s special version of the fidelius charm that redirected any wizard’s or witch’s attention away from the one who had vanquished Lord Voldemort.

Harry Potter, for the wizards and witches, was forever linked to the missing Dark Lord. They could not think of one without thinking of the other. Hence, any wizard or witch searching for him would be blocked by the charm. Muggles, on the other hand, would only know of Harry Potter, not his wizarding history, and have no such impediment.

And should a wizard see him, well, while they would recognize him, they would never be able to remember where or when it had happened. And if a quick-thinking wizard were to see him and place a tracking or monitoring charm of any kind on the boy, Dumbledore’s special variation of the fidelius would block it from reporting anything useful. The charm would appear to work, but report nothing of consequence. And that would keep the boy safe from all harm.

۸-~-۸

“Where is our little pumpkin?” asked Petunia, as she walked into the sitting-room, “The roast is almost done!” The aroma of the evening dinner drifted through the house — roast beef with caramelized onions in gravy, roast potatoes with cinnamon butter, carrots and peas, and Yorkshire pudding. A delicious blend of scents that set her husband’s mouth to drooling.

“You know how he likes your dinners. I’m sure the little rascal will be home any moment,” said Vernon jovially as he watched News and Sport on BBC Two.

“I certainly hope so,” she replied, glancing back into the kitchen. “He has been spending a lot more time with his friends lately.”

The obese man glanced up at her, then scowled. “Well, now that that freak is out of our lives, our son has more free time. And he’s out of that boy’s disrupting influence.” He fell silent for a moment.

She sighed, eyeing the cupboard door which they hadn’t opened in days, “He’s only been missing for two weeks. He might show up again.”

“I feel that our luck has finally changed, my love. He’s gone, and gone for good.”

“One can only hope,” she said. She frowned. “I wonder what set him off?”

Her husband grunted. “Who cares? He probably found a mug that he could leech off of. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say. If we never see him again, it’ll be too soon!”

۸-ꞈ-۸

Dear Princess Celestia,

It’s probably good that we haven’t found that portal to Harry Potter’s home-world yet. The more I learn about those beasts he calls relatives, the more I find myself wanting to hurt them. I’m trying not to be a bad pony, but the details he’s mentioned (see enclosed notes) make it so difficult sometimes.

The things he’s told me about his home-world, though, are simply astounding. If we do find the portal, or it reopens, the things we could learn will revolutionize magic and science as we know it (see the enclosed notes on the things he’s told me about)!

Harry seems to have made friends with Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo (the Cutie Mark Crusaders, in case you don’t remember). I’ve written to you of their escapades in the past. I’m hoping this both helps him integrate better into our world and to slow them down. He seems to be more cautious than they are, so there’s hope on that subject. (see my enclosed notes on the Trebuchet they built, and its current use at Ponyville Lake). It’s truly amazing how many of their Cutie Mark attempts end up with them covered in tree sap — even those that have nothing to do with the forest or trees.

He’s fitting well into school, Cheerilee tells me. He’s very quiet and polite, and studies hard. I told you about his innovation on using his fetlock to hold a quill, and how we fashioned a quill-holder for his hoof (see enclosed and improved diagram). His letters are already about as good as the average pegasus! Cheerilee has said several earth colts are showing interest in his method of writing. It certainly seems like something we should consider teaching instead of mouth writing — much more convenient and easier to use.

I’ve been running tests on his magic and he appears to have a magic well that is quite wide and deep for a colt his age. He will be quite a power-pony when he gets older. His scar, though, concerns me. It is definitely a fragment of something and not simply a remnant of a spell gone wrong. Its reactions to my diagnostic spells remind me strongly of the fragment of Sombra’s horn we found (see enclosed charts and records).

How he could have acquired it is also troubling. He says he’s had it as long as he can remember, which means that whatever happened to him, it was when he was a tiny foal. Somepony was casting highly dangerous spells either around him or at him, resulting in this scar. How could his parents have allowed this? And if not them, then his relatives! (See enclosed notes on what he can remember about the scar.)

And, most importantly, should we tell him about it (see enclosed notes on the pros and cons of such a decision)?

And then there is that protective magic field surrounding him. The only thing it responds to is that scar. Nothing else I’ve thrown at it gets any sort of reaction — it’s as if the magic field’s only purpose is to keep whatever is in the scar at bay. How the field was established and how it maintains itself leave me frustrated! All my attempts to create a similar field have ended in abysmal failure as they either drain magic from the subject or dissipate after only a few hours. And my field reacts to every spell I cast at it. Whomever created this field was an exceptionally knowledgeable, talented, and powerful magic user (see enclosed notes on the recordings and my tentative conclusions).

This is at odds with his firm statements that magic is unknown in his world. No matter how I look at it, my conclusions are disturbing in their implications (see enclosed notes).

Any suggestions you might have would be greatly appreciated.

Your Faithful Student,

Twilight Sparkle.

.

P.S. I have run into a small problem with Harry. How do I punish him when he does something wrong? I don’t want to do anything that might remind him of his relatives and cause a panic attack or cause him lose his trust in us, yet the normal punishments, grounding him and making him stay inside, don’t seem to work. That is, when I grounded him after the Trebuchet incident at Sweet Apple Acres — he has to stay inside and can’t go play with his friends — he spent the entire time reading books. He acted like he was being rewarded! He even thanked me!

۸-_-۸

Princess Celestia hoofed the letter from her faithful student to her sister, Luna. “Have you been able to learn anything helpful about Harry Potter from his dreams?” she asked.

Luna sighed as she read the letter. “No, Tia. His dreams art extremely chaotic compared to most ponies. If it weren’t for his obvious calm acceptance of the events taking place, We would’st thinketh that he were reliving one of Discord’s more extreme pranks from a millennium ago when that villainous creature ruled Equestria.” She stopped for a moment to think. “His dreams segue from one disquieting fantastical setting to another in chaotic — and what should be traumatizing — manners. At times, sections or entire dreams rapidly repeat over and over with minor variations in details and outcomes that should leave him an emotional wreck in the morning.

“One moment he is a pony, another he is in his bipedal form, and in still another ’tis an odd combination of both. He notices not the changes, and doesn’t seem to care one way or another, accepting all with equal tranquillity.”

She shook her head tiredly. “We can’st not say what is of his world, what is of ours, and what is fantasy. We tried to stop one such misadventure the very first time We entered his dreamscape, to direct it and receive answers. All We accomplished was to reset the dream to a different beginning, and it dragged Us with it willy-nilly. Every time We interfere, the dreams just change their theme and remain thoroughly as chaotic and confusing.”

She sighed and laid her head on the table. “And he dost see'th nothing wrong with what is happening. He participates and reacts, but nothing seems to matter. His moods range from mildly worried to mildly pleased, even when what he dost hath no bearing on what happens.”

She looked over at her sister. “If it tweren’t for Twilight’s reports on his interactions with other ponies, We would think him quite insane.”

“Hmm,” Celestia hummed softly.

“Although, We must admit amusement at seeing that thy faithful student dost complaineth that restricting him to the library as punishment dost not work. We don’t think We hath ever heard of such a state of affairs.” She glanced up at her sister with a slight smile.

“Yes,” said the white alicorn, “That is a rather ironic complaint from Twilight.”

“Mayhaps, denying him the books wouldest work?”

Celestia sighed. “That was what I had to do with Twilight.”

They both studied their tea cups for several minutes.

“You should head for bed, Lulu,” Celestia suggested. “You’re about to fall asleep on your hooves. And you’re speaking in the royal ‘We’ again.” She gave her sister a loving look. “There certainly doesn’t appear to be any urgency in this matter, at least not enough to require you to skimp on your slumber.”

“Forsooth, We, I, thinketh thou mayhaps be correct.”

Princess Luna pushed herself to her hooves and slowly walked to the door.

“Good morning, Tia.”

“Good morning, Lulu.”

۸-~-۸

12 — Weapons of Mass Destruction

Harry stared critically at the trebuchet as it launched another pony into the lake, this one doing various flips and spins before diving fore-hooves first into the lake. Her friends at the pony-pitcher cheered, then rapidly pulled the arm back for the next launch.

“How you didn’t get a cutie mark for that I’ll never understand,” he said quietly. A series of disappointed sighs sounded beside him.

“Well,” said Apple Bloom, “It really wasn’t that hard. It’s just a bunch of tree trunks we tied and nailed together. I think the hardest parts were the pegs in the throwing arm.”

They sat watching, waiting their turn. “Maybe we should make another just for the kids,” he said. “They get a bit restless waiting for their turn.” He looked at the fillies.

“A pony-pitcher for goats?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Kids, another word for fillies and colts younger than us.” He sighed. “It wouldn’t be as large and we could place it closer to the lake. That would also get some of the grown-ups off this one as they help their fillies and colts with the new one.”

The fillies thought that over for a moment, then smiled.

“We’ll start Monday, after school,” Sweetie Belle said decisively as they moved forward another few steps in the line.

That Monday evening Harry discovered just how difficult it was to remove tree-sap from one’s fur.

On the other hand . . . hoof . . . it was the first time he had ever had a long hot bath. That the fillies were with him in the tub was embarrassing at first, but their matter-of-fact attitude quickly put him at ease. Then he discovered the dubious joys of waiting for fur to dry in a dusty barn.

He was much more careful on the remaining nights. It didn’t prevent him from getting tree-sap on his coat, but there was much less of it. Although the hot baths with the fillies were a fair recompense, he decided, for getting rid of the sap.

۸- ̬ -۸

On Friday they pulled the finished filly-flinger, as Scootaloo named it, into position. The previous day, with the enthusiastic help of their school-friends, they had levelled the prospective resting place much closer to the lake. For this one, they had dug four holes for the posts that would hold the smaller siege engine firmly in place.

They removed the wheels — they had reused the other trebuchet’s wheels — and placed the holding posts. They then packed the now-filled post holes with rocks and sand. Judicious stomping by Apple Bloom tamped everything firmly in place. They used a much smaller bucket so the smaller fillies and colts weren’t sent nearly as fast or as far as the bigger one would throw them. That, in turn, meant it was easier to prepare each time and the round-trips were shorter, making for more rides for the smaller ponies.

The icing on the cake, as far as the Cutie Mark Crusaders were concerned, was overhearing some grownups deciding to build a bigger pony-pitcher just for them, giving Ponyville three trebuchets as a recreational activity for all ages.

The addition of anchored rafts close, but not too close, to the splashdown areas made it safer. And ponies didn’t have to swim immediately back to shore.

Even the pegasi had gotten into the act, using the trebuchet as a dodge-ball game, where the thrown pegasus tried to aim for the hovering target. Usually, a pegasus could see an approaching opponent miles away, and could hear the air disturbance of their wings at a good distance. It was a great reflex improver to have an opponent suddenly pop up less than two seconds away and headed for you at great speed.

At some point, a unicorn had decided to participate. The unexpected participant shooting spells rapidly at the surprised pegasus playing target added a heretofore unforeseen dimension to aerial combat. The pegasi, fanatical adrenalin junkies that they were, were delighted at the new challenges this provided.

The trebuchets had become quite popular on the hot summer days. Even kids and adults from some of the closer villages were coming over to try them out. And Pegasi from all over were appearing at the lake.

۸- ̬ -۸

Harry looked down at the four timber-wolves circling their tree and sighed. The three fillies were on branches above him, which kept the wolves’ attention on him.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time . . . .

“Harry,” Apple Bloom had said after school, “Ah wanna introduce you to Zecora!”

Sweetie Belle had interrupted, “AB, you know we’re not supposed to go into the Everfree after school!”

The four of them had been trotting towards the clubhouse.

“Aw, don’t be that way,” she had replied. “We won’t be long, and we’ll stick right to the trail. If we hurry we’ll be back home long before dinner!”

“Zecora?” had asked Harry.

There followed the complete story of how the Zebra had scared all the Ponyville residents, with the Mane Six getting dosed with Poison Joke and turned into their humiliating opposites. Twilight’s horn turned limp and flaccid, making her Twilight Flopple. Rainbow Dash’s wings turned upside down and on her lower sides, she became Rainbow Crash. Applejack shrank down to fit on a pony’s hoof and became Apple Teeny. Rarity’s mane, coat, and tail became frizzled, very long, and mop-like, making her Hairity. Pinkie Pie’s tongue became swollen and covered in blue spots, making her speak unintelligibly, and giving her the name Spitty Pie. And Fluttershy’s voice dropped several octaves and she became Flutterguy.

By the time the story was over, the colt and fillies had arrived at the forest’s edge. And, somehow, had all now agreed that visiting Zecora just had to be done. “It’s a short walk,” Apple Bloom had assured him, “Not more than ten minutes. I’ve made the trip many times. She’s been teaching me how to make potions!”

The forest had been as foreboding as always, with that hint of malice and decay in the air that it always held. The trail Apple Bloom had set out on was at least a well-marked path. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all that wide and they had been restricted to single-file in the darkness under the trees.

It had been Harry’s first foray into the forest since his original escape. He had to say the forest was just as intimidating as he had been told. He had been in too much pain to notice when he had first arrived.

Five minutes later, they had heard rustling to their left. “Maybe we should go a bit faster?” Sweetie Belle had suggested nervously. They had sped up from a nervous walk to a trot.

Then they had heard rustling behind them. No one said anything, but they nervously had started to move faster.

Then a timber-wolf had jumped onto the trail in front of them. Apple Bloom had shrieked in surprise. They had spun to race back home, only to see another timber-wolf standing there, growling.

They had taken off into the forest to their right. Moments later, a crash from in front of them had revealed another timber-wolf.

Which was how they had been treed by four timber-wolves.

“Aw, horsefeathers!” said Apple Bloom. She looked around them at the other trees. “Ah can see the edge of the Everfree, right over thar!” She pointed with a hoof and slipped. She grabbed her branch with all four limbs. “Whoa!”

One of the timber-wolves moved from below Harry to stand below Apple Bloom, sappy saliva dripping from its snout.

Harry sighed. Just like being chased by Dudley. Only with magical creatures. With magic. Magic. Magic! He studied the branches around them. Just below him, to his right, was another big branch. He didn’t know any cutting spells, yet — he was still working on levitating things — but maybe Sweetie Belle did from helping her sister. “Hey, Sweetie Belle,” he called up to her and explained what he wanted to try.

It didn’t work, at first. She had to use the spell almost a dozen times while he tried to hold the end of the branch pulled slightly towards himself. Soon enough, though, there was a loud CRACK and the weight of the branch tore it from the tree trunk. Harry’s hold, of course, failed almost immediately. But it held just long enough to swing the branch in his direction as it plummeted down and onto the head of the timber-wolf under his branch. There was a loud SMASH and THUD. The front half of the timber-wolf was crushed under the branch. As he watched, the back half simply fell apart into sticks and leaves.

Apple Bloom leaned up against another branch as the colt and filly went to work on the branch she was standing on. Just as she noticed it starting to sink, she jumped to the new branch, and broke the other free. It squashed the wolf under her quite nicely.

Unfortunately, the other two wolves moved away from their tree and sat nearby. But not too unfortunate, as Harry and Sweetie Belle transferred their actions to the tree the two wolves were sitting under. A sturdy branch did the job, smashing one timber-wolf and trapping or crippling the other.

“Um, Harry?” said Apple Bloom. “That first timber-wolf is almost back.”

Harry looked. Terrifyingly, beside the first branch they had sent down, he could see the crude form of a wolf slowly bulking up.

They scrambled down and headed for the Orchard as fast as they could. Just as they reached the edge they could hear the howl of a frustrated wolf echoing out of the forest.

They didn’t stop running until they reached the farm house. They stood there, sides heaving. “Aw, horsefeathers,” said Apple Bloom. The others looked at her curiously. She was rubbing her fore-hoof against her side. She looked back up and said, “Sap.” The other three groaned and started checking themselves out.

Apple Bloom’s sour answer of, “Crusading,” somehow managed to deflect her sister’s question about their afternoon escapade. They didn’t have to explain why they were in the Everfree forest. Apparently, Applejack and Big Mac assumed the White Tail Woods beside the lake were the source of their sappiness.

۸- ̫ -۸

It was at lunch time the next day that Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon came over again. She had been harassing Harry and the Cutie Mark Crusaders for several weeks now. “Well, blank-flanks, what’re you going to do to get in trouble today?” She ignored Harry, speaking to Scootaloo, the one most likely to lose her temper.

She had learned that trying to torment Harry wasn’t worth the effort. He never responded, he just stared at her. She would have said he wasn’t very smart, but his arithmetic and Ponyish skills made that impossible. That and the fact that the way he just stared at her made her uneasy. And he was so small. She always felt like she was talking to a foal when she talked to him.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes, but before she could more than open her mouth, Harry said, “Are you soo insecure in your own self-worth that the only way you can feel good about yourself is to put down others over things they have no control over?”

Tiara, and her friend Silver Spoon, just stared at him. That he talked more like an adult than any of them, despite his resemblance to a much younger foal, was oddly disturbing.

“Sure, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and myself don’t have our Cutie Marks yet, but who cares, really? Look at all the fun things we do trying to find our Marks while you just sit around, bored, doing nothing truly interesting because you already have a Cutie Mark.

“Where’s the excitement in your life? Have you ever tried taffy making, hairdressing, mountain climbing, or underwater exploring? Have you ever put on your own talent show?

“We did. We even built the pony-pitcher and filly-flinger that you’ve had so much fun with these last two weeks. What have you done? As far as I can tell, nothing. Except maybe a few dozen tea-parties with Silver Spoon.

“If being a blank flank, as you so dismissively call us, lets us have so much fun, then I would rather remain a blank flank. And today, we’re going to see how sofas are made. Maybe that’s the talent for one of us. We don’t know, but we’ll have fun trying. What will you do for fun after school? Have yet another tea party?”

Harry stopped and resumed his stare. He had learned long ago that the best defence against bullies was to ignore them, to not react to what they did unless they went to violence. And his steady blank stare always unsettled them. It had even worked on Dudley — sometimes.

The fillies stared at him wide-eyed

“Well, I never!” Tiara said, at a loss for what to say, and just saying what her mother said when she was surprised by another’s response, Harry assumed.

The colt nodded. “And that’s why we have more fun than you do. Because you never.”

“Hmmph!” she hmmphed, turning to walk away.

The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, and the end of the confrontation. If it could be called that.

They started towards the door, letting the unhappy Tiara and friend get ahead of them.

“We’re going to make a sofa?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Eh,” said Harry, “Sorry about that.” He shook his head. He would have rubbed his neck if they weren’t walking. “It was the first thing I thought of,” he pointed with his nose at Ponyville. Barely visible in the distance behind where Tiara had been standing during their encounter, they could see the vague outline of the Quills and Sofas shop.

Scootaloo laughed. “Well, why not?” she said happily.

Harry had to admit later, as they walked into Quills and Sofas after school, that he would never have thought the two went together, but seeing all the pillows and cushions proudly displayed with signs that read “Made from the finest down feathers” explained it. After all if you’re collecting feathers for sofa cushions and pillows, it’s not unlikely you would get a few big ones as well. Using the big ones to make quills was simply another way to turn a discard into profit.

“Welcome!” said a voice from the back of the shop accompanied by the clip-clop of someone hurrying in their direction. “Good afternoon! I’m Davenport, the proprietor of this establishment. What can I . . . do . . . for . . . you,” his voice trailed off as he caught sight of them. He did not look happy. His eyes narrowed and he stared at them nervously. “What do you want?”he said flatly, their reputation clearly in mind.

“Hi!” said Scootaloo excitedly, “We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders!”

“Yes,” said the Earth pony, looking even more nervous and taking a step backwards as if afraid he might catch a disease. Or thought he was inside collateral damage range.

“I see our reputation precedes us,” Harry said dryly. He cleared his throat. “We were wondering if you could show us how sofas and quills are made?”

The pony sighed in resignation.

“Wow!” said Apple Bloom, “This is really springy!” She was using a nearby sofa as a trampoline. Sweetie Belle was looking under the cushions of another one. Scootaloo was . . . somewhere.

Harry placed his hoof over his eyes. “Girls!” he said sharply, “Focus!”

There was a crash from the back room, followed immediately by Scootaloo’s voice, “I’m alright!”

Davenport wheeled and ran into his backroom, Harry and the other two fillies on his heels.

He lifted the errant filly out of the sofa frame that was on the floor and now slightly twisted.

Harry looked around the room. It was much larger than he had expected. There was a tablesaw, jigsaw, and sander — all hoof-powered — against the wall, with various hoof-tools racked on the wall above them. On the opposite wall were racks of cloth and a large sewing table. At the back were several sofas in various stages of completion.

The next half-hour was difficult for the poor shopkeeper as he tried to explain how he created his custom sofas. Apple Bloom got trapped in the pulleys under the tablesaw. Sweetie Belle got tied up in the threads under the hoof-powered sewing machine — she was trying to figure out how the machine did what she and her sister used magic to do. And Scootaloo, somehow, got stuck inside an almost completed sofa.

“Sorry about your sofa, Mr. Davenport,” Scootaloo said as he escorted them to his front door.

“That’s alright,” the pony said with a pained expression, “That sofa needed a new backing, anyway. And it should only take an hour or so to untangle the sewing machine threads.”

“Sorry,” said Sweetie Belle, blushing.

“And the belts on that saw were getting worn anyway.”

Apple Bloom said nothing, but her bright red face said it all.

Just as the fillies were going out the door, Harry stopped. “Excuse me, Mr. Davenport, but do you make sofa beds, too? I didn’t see any.” Such a thing would be useful at Twilight’s place, now that the other had vanished overnight. He still didn’t understand that.

The shopkeeper stared at him. “Sofa . . . beds?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “You know, a sofa that folds out into a bed? They’re great for unexpected guests or small rooms.”

“Folds out?” said the proprietor as he sat on his haunches.

Harry frowned. “Have you ever heard of a futon? That’s the simplest one.”

The stallion shook his head.

Harry stepped outside and started to draw angled lines in the dirt beside the porch. “These wooden pieces are the back of the futon, about a hoof apart. They attach to these horizontal pieces with a rod through their ends as a hinge.” He drew some horizontal lines interspaced with the bottoms of the angled ones. “The frame holds them up.” He sketched a couple of other lines.

“The important part is here at the sides where the hinge meets the frame.” He pointed with a fore-hoof. “It slides back and forth and lets the seat slide forward and the back to slide forward while dropping level.” He stepped over and drew another sketch of a bed where the former sofa arms were now a very short headboard and tailboard at each end of a flat ribbed bed.

“The mattress on it is just a giant cushion that folds and doubles as the seat and back when it’s a sofa.” He grinned up at the pony. “The back moving forward means it can be close to a wall and still fold into a bed without having to move it. No wasted space that way.”

“There’s another kind, usually with a metal frame, that fits inside a normal sofa. It folds into thirds where one third slides up behind the back and the other two thirds fold together and fit under the seat cushions. It usually has a thin mattress that folds away with the bed part. Most people can’t tell it’s a bed until you unfold it!” Harry finished. That was what the Dursleys had in the sitting-room — not that they ever used it.

The fillies were staring at him, as was the shopkeeper.

“That’s brilliant!” the pony whispered. “Show me!” He hustled them back inside, stopping to put a closed sign on the door.

Harry winced as he heard another crash from the storage room. “I’m alright!” came Apple Bloom’s voice. He looked around the workshop and shuddered. Feathers covered the entire floor like a multi-colored field of snow. Muffled sounds from the sewing table, and the two hooves sticking out of opposite corners of a lumpy cushion revealed that Sweetie Belle had managed to sew herself inside it with the sewing machine and was currently trying to escape. And Scootaloo . . . Scootaloo looked to be building a large ballista out of scrap wood, metal braces, and cloth.

The back-room was in a shambles, but the shopkeeper didn’t seem to care. He hadn’t even flinched at the latest crash. He stared at the working table-top models of a futon and a sofa bed, gently converting them from couch to bed and back, repeatedly.

“These are brilliant!” he whispered. He looked at Harry. “You have revolutionized the sofa industry, my colt!”

Harry blushed. “But back where I used to live everyone knows about these things, so they aren’t my idea.”

The pony stared at him steadily. “But in all of Equestria, no one else has ever seen or thought of these. I thank you for bringing them to me.” He blinked and looked around his workroom. “Oh, dear,” he said, surprised at what he saw. Sweetie Belle had managed to get her head out of the cushion and was looking around before embarking on getting the rest of the way out.

There was a yelp from Scootaloo as her project tipped over and disintegrated with a bang,and a loud thunk from across the room. The numerous pieces went skittering across the floor. Apple Bloom came out of the storeroom, checking to see what the noise was. A sliding sound and thud of something heavy hitting the floor behind her followed her out. Sweetie Belle looked up at the thin wooden rod, that hadn’t been there a minute ago, now protruding from the wall a few inches over her head.

Harry sighed. “I think we should head home now, girls, it’s almost dinner time.”

Scootaloo tried to look innocent as she nonchalantly stepped away from the remains of her afternoon’s activity. “Um, yeah, I think you’re right, Harry.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Apple Bloom, looking out the new rough-edged window between the work-room and the shop’s front display room. The long shadows visible through the outside windows clearly indicated the lateness of the hour.

“A little help, here?” said Sweetie Belle testily, flopping onto the floor with a thud and an, “Ow!”

Davenport sighed sadly.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry, “I should have kept a closer watch on them.” He looked up at the stallion worriedly.

The pony gave him a half-hearted smile as he surveyed the wreckage that remained of his nice and neat workroom. “That’s alright,” he said, his tone faltering. He took a deep breath and looked at his two table-top models. His smile became a bit more genuine, “I think, all-in-all, it’s a more than fair trade.”

۸- ̬ -۸

“This is a great idea, Harry!” Sweetie Belle said.

“Cutie Mark Crusader Honey Harvesters! YAY!” they all cried out.

It was the day after their foray into sofa-making and not too long after school let out.

They stood beside an old, lightning-struck tree across the path from Sweet Apple Acres. One side and the canopy above were covered in the green leaves of a healthy tree while a large section just below the lowest branch was the weathered light-brown of dead wood. Bees flew in and out of a large opening in that section.

“Now, the book I read in the library,” Harry explained, “said we should use a smoky torch to soothe the bees before we try to get any honey combs out.” He held up a wooden stick wrapped in rags. “So we need to wait a few minutes before doing anything. Is everything set?” He looked over to Scootaloo’s scooter and cart. The cart held a small barrel that could hold about ten gallons of liquid. It was an old cider cask that they had borrowed for this. Applejack wouldn’t mind once they brought it back full of honey.

Nodding, he concentrated and soon a small flame appeared on the rags. As soon as it was going, he lifted the torch in his magic and held it in front of the opening. The old oily rags performed as they should and smoke enveloped that section of the tree.

For about one minute . . . then the rags fell off the stick and burnt to ash slightly before or after they hit the ground. This left Harry holding up a stick with a slightly charred tip. The bees did not seem all that soothed, either.

“Well damn,” said Harry, dropping the stick.

They stared at the stick for a moment.

“How about we start a fire here and put green leaves on it to make smoke?” suggested Apple Bloom. “That’s what mah sister does when dealing with a wasps’ nest in the barn.”

Soon they had a respectable little fire going about ten feet from the tree. The leaves, when added, made a nice thick white smoke that the wind then blew straight over the hole in the tree. “Yay!” cheered Scootaloo. Then the wind changed direction to the left, making the smoke miss the tree to the right. “Awww,” they all said.

But they added some wood to the left of their fire, added more leaves, and soon the smoke was once more enveloping the bee hive entrance.

Until the wind shifted again.

Soon, they had a smouldering ring of fire around the tree with a plume of smoke that covered the right spot no matter what the wind’s direction was.

After ten minutes, they kicked a hole through the ring, downwind of the bee hive entrance, and went closer, bringing the barrel with them. Apple Bloom planted her hooves firmly. Sweetie Belle climbed onto Apple Bloom’s back. Then Scootaloo hopped-flew onto Sweetie Belle’s back. And Harry finally climbed up to the top.

From his new vantage point he could easily see into the hive and used his levitation magic to separate and lift out a honey comb. Sweetie Belle gently swept the comb with her magic, shooing the bees off, and leaving the honey. Harry carefully kept the honey from dripping off as he lowered the comb into the small barrel.

They did this until Sweetie Belle called out, “That’s it! The barrel is full!”

“Aww,” said Harry, “There’s plenty left inside, I can feel it with my magic.”

“Well,” Apple Bloom interjected, “We want to make sure the hive has plenty for the winter.”

Harry, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo jumped down and started to kick dirt over the smouldering ring of fire. After she put a lid on the barrel, Apple Bloom joined them. Harry and Scootaloo went one direction while the other two fillies went the other direction. The unicorns pulled the fire apart while their partners kicked dirt over it to put it out.

It was only when they reached the section closest to the forest that they discovered a flaw in their afternoon’s plan.

“Ooops,” said Harry, staring at the line of fire leading into the forest and rapidly spreading on the dead branches and dry debris liberally littering the forest floor.

“Ah think maybe a dead branch was under that part of arr smoke ring,” said Apple Bloom.

They watched as the fire spread to the base of a fourth tree.

“I once heard a telly show,” Harry said, “that said fires are an important part of keeping a forest healthy. That they burn the debris of broken branches, leaves, and fallen trees and restore nutrients to the soil. That the fire creates more open spaces for new trees by burning up dead or diseased trees. And that there are even some trees whose seeds won’t start growing until after a fire passes through. And that unless there’s a drought, the healthy trees easily survive.” The nearest tree’s leaves suddenly went up in flames, the tree turning into a giant torch, the heat triggering a second tree into becoming fully involved in flames.

The fillies didn’t say anything, mesmerized.

“Ah think Ah need to tell mah sister about this,” said Apple Bloom nervously.

“And maybe the guards?” suggested Sweetie Belle in an equally unsteady voice.

They slowly started backing to the honey barrel, intending to grab it and run.

“Definitely the fire brigade,” said Harry.

Apparently, some of the roots of the bee tree had also been close to the surface at their fire ring. As a result, those now charcoaled roots were no longer doing their job. There was a loud crack and the tree began to tilt, the dead section beginning to split and honey pouring out.

“Run!” yelled Harry. Before they could take more than a few steps, though, the dead section of the tree fell to the ground with a huge THUMP. It landed right on their barrel, crushing it and splashing them liberally with a mixture of sap and honey.

The bees were enraged, and headed for the four foals.

Scootaloo hopped on her scooter and started towards the Apple farmhouse, the other three right on her tail. She hadn’t gone five feet before Apple Bloom passed her at a dead run. “I am soo grounded,” they heard her moan as she quickly took the lead.

Harry, behind the others, shouted, “I’ll head for the town hall. Sweetie Belle, head for the Fire Department. Scootaloo, get Twilight!” Apple Bloom was already headed for the farmhouse to warn her family. The other three took off in slightly different directions at a full gallop.

Harry didn’t notice the queen bee clinging to his mane. Nor the swarm that followed him — and only him.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Dear Celestia,

I tried your suggestion of grounding Harry (see updated notes on the Everfree Forest fire and subsequent bee infestation of the Town Hall) by restricting him to the library and letting him read only his textbooks. It didn’t work. He thanked me for the additional time he could practice his magic without being interrupted. (Apparently the Cutie Mark Crusaders were distracting him a bit from his magical studies, in his opinion.)

Any other suggestions?

Your Faithful Student,

Twilight Sparkle.

۸-_-۸

14 — A Secret Exposed

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15 — For Whom the Owl Tolls

Author's Note

Bonus chapter for hitting 100 likes, June 10, 2018!
And thank you to all who are reading my story.

15 — For Whom the Owl Tolls

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Twilight after his explanation, her voice reflecting her wounded feelings that he hadn’t told her the portal still existed and could be used to go back to his world.

Even Spike was giving him a disapproving stare. As was Applejack.

He shrugged, and looked at the fillies. They smiled encouragingly back at him. A year ago he would have been terrified at her discovering his secret. Today, thanks to his filly friends, he was considerably more confident. He still twitched at certain sounds and voice tones, but, overall, he was a different colt than before.

“I was worried you’d send me back. And I’d do anything to avoid going back to the Dursleys. Plus, I wanted to stay here with my friends. So . . . ,” he let his voice trail off.

She sighed deeply, a hurt expression on her face. “Harry, we would never have forced you to go back, you know that.”

He gave her a swift glance and resumed staring at the table-top. “I know that now, but back then I didn’t. I worried every day that you’d toss me out as soon as your experiments were done. That once you wrung ‘Subject’ dry and could learn no more, well . . . I’d be out the door and discarded like an old dishrag.”

She leaned back, her ears lying against her head, appalled, “I would never . . . .”

“As I said,” he interrupted, “I know that now, but I didn’t back then. Back then, all I knew was that adults were not to be trusted. That they’d say one thing one day, then another the next. And beat you for imagined misdeeds. Kids . . . other foals, you’d say . . . were just as bad.” He gave a quick smile to the three fillies. Three fillies who had unreservedly accepted him. Three fillies who had told him he was family to them, a herd with him. Three fillies he couldn’t imagine leaving. “Except you of course,” he softly said to them, happiness shining in his eyes. The three immediately moved around the table and hugged him.

Applejack had been watching and listening quietly. “Apple Bloom,” she said ominously. “Ah see ya aren’t surprised ta hear ’bout this portal. . . .”

Twilight frowned at this observation and turned her attention from Harry to his “herd-mates.”

Apple Bloom gulped and pretended not to hear her sister as she continued to hug her friends, maybe even a bit tighter. The silence was damning in and of itself.

Harry could see Twilight frowning as she thought things over. “AJ,” she finally said, “I think we need Rarity and Lofty or Holiday here when these troublemakers explain themselves.”

“Ah reckin yer right,” the mare half growled as she turned to the door. “Spike? Ya want to get Rarity and Fluttershy while Ah track down Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and one a’ Scootaloo’s aunts?”

“Sure!” said Spike as he ran out the door, followed by Applejack at a slightly more sedate pace.

“While we wait,” Twilight said quietly, “You, Harry, can tell me just how many times you’ve been through the portal and when.”

Harry ran his hoof through his mane, “Heh,” he said uncomfortably looking down. “Maybe a dozen times?”

At Twilights accusatory glare, he explained, “We were careful. Nopony saw us!” That was true, no Guards or any other ponies had seen them. People in the playpark and around Little Whinging, though . . . .

“We?”

Uh, oh. “Heh,” he said embarrassedly running a hoof through his mane. “The fillies wanted to see where I lived. See what people looked like.” He cut his eyes to his friends. They looked as embarrassed as he felt.

“They have carts for carrying ponies that ponies don’t have to pull, and go faster than a pony can run,” Sweetie Belle said, trying to be helpful.

“And trains that can carry hundreds of ponies at a time that fly without pegasi pulling them,” added Scootaloo, “we saw ’em!” Anything to distract the upset purple alicorn from their transgressions.

For a moment it looked like it might work. Harry could see the interest in Twilight’s eyes, the way she started to shiver excitedly at the prospect of learning something new.

“All of you went there? Multiple times? Through the Everfree Forest?” she growled.

Realizing that maybe that wasn’t the best thing to admit, Harry looked back down at the floor and the fillies shuffled uncomfortably at his side, also looking everywhere but at Twilight.

“We were careful,” he said quietly.

“The Everfree,” Twilight restated flatly, glaring at them.

“But you go there all the time!” he weakly defended.

“I’m an adult! And the bearer of the Element of Magic!” she declared, glaring at him. “And you don’t know any offensive or defensive magic!”

“Maybe you should teach me some, then!” Harry shot back. Then leaned back. Ooops. “I should’na said that,” he mumbled to his fillies. As one they nodded.

“You’re too young to do those spells! You don’t have the power!” she shot back.

Harry looked away. “We don’t know that. I’m also too young to teleport!” he said quietly. “And yet I can do that quite well, thank you very much!”

Twilight just glared at him.

They sat in silence. Twilight’s expression varying from glaring at them for sneaking into that deadly forest, for any reason, to delight whenever she thought about finally visiting Harry’s home-world and all the things there were to learn there!

Twilight glared at them until the other mares arrived.

“What have they gotten into this time?” queried Rarity as she came in. Twilight simply shook her head, delaying an answer until everyone was here.

Aunt Holiday, an earth-pony, was shaking her head in resignation as she came in a moment later, behind Applejack. Unfortunately for Scootaloo, Aunt Holiday was not the more laid-back and relaxed Aunt Lofty. Whatever the trouble was, the stern mare was certain that Scootaloo was in the middle of it. Her gaze quickly found her niece and the guilty look she got in return confirmed her suspicions, earning the filly a glare.

Twilight said, “Rarity, you already know most of this, but Holiday, you don’t.” The purple alicorn sighed. “You know Harry isn’t from here,” she said to Scootaloo’s aunt, “Most ponies assume he’s from one of the countries outside Equestria, but he’s from much, much farther away.

“Harry is actually from another world entirely. He came here through a portal, which we thought dissipated after he passed through it. Today, Harry received a message from his home-world, and just now told us that he’s known the portal was still in existence for over a year.”

Holiday switched from glaring at Scootaloo to staring at Harry while frowning suspiciously.

“He had his reasons for not telling us, and while I disagree with those reasons, I understand why he kept silent.”

Aunt Holiday turned her attention back to Twilight looking apprehensive. “And this concerns Scootaloo, how?”

Twilight cleared her throat. “It seems that the fillies here,” she stopped and looked at Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom in turn, “. . . not only knew about the portal, which is in the Everfree Forest,” she growled the last two words, “but have actually gone with him to visit his home-world. Multiple times. And didn’t tell anyone.”

Both new ponies were giving their respective relative filly a harsh glare. Applejack was doing the same with Apple Bloom, although part of that glare was mixed with disappointment.

“We made a Pinkie Promise!” squeaked out Scootaloo.

“So, Harry Potter,” Twilight said ignoring the interruption, “How did the fillies find out about the Portal? Did you tell them?”

۸-ꞈ-۸

“Come on, Harry!” Scootaloo said.

“We’ll get caught,” Harry argued back.

“No, we won’t,” she wheedled. “There’s only two guards posted there at a time, and they only check your trail twice a day now, mornin’ and evenin’.”

“I know,” he said, his right hoof through his mane nervously. “It’s just so dangerous in there according to the guards and Twilight!” He looked away from them. “Besides, I’ve already looked for the portal with Twilight and the guards when I got out of the hospital.”

He didn’t want to admit he had already been back there since then. That would lead to even more questions.

“Ah, gee, Harry, this is our chance to get our Cutie Marks in tracking,” Apple Bloom said.

“Or maybe our Cutie Marks in Guard Scouting!” said Scootaloo.

“And it’ll help you, too,” finished Sweetie Belle.

Harry sighed and stared out the clubhouse window. He had already told them he knew exactly where the trail led, and that it simply stopped dead. But once Scootaloo got an idea in her head it was impossible to dislodge it.

Just look at what had happened when they had tried to be Chicken Rescuers in the Everfree, or ninjas! Not their best days. He wondered if there was just something about ponies without cutie marks that attracted tree sap. Or were the four of them destined to get cutie marks as tree sap collectors? Oh, the irony! At least the Sugar Maple tree sap tasted good. He wouldn’t mind collecting that.

In any case, the three fillies had been pestering him every day for a month, now. And he knew they wouldn’t stop until he caved in to them. Finally, he said, “Okay.” He would show them the place, nothing more. They’d never find the portal, itself, he’d make sure of that.

“Yeah!” yelled the other three.

He sighed, “We’ll have to do it on the weekend when the guards are having lunch.”

“Awwww,” came the disappointed response.

He shook his head, “It’s too late in the day, now, plus the guards get antsy as sundown approaches. They’d spot us for sure.” They nodded in reluctant understanding.

The weekend couldn’t come fast enough for the fillies, and it arrived far too quickly for the colt.

“Okay, you have to do as I say or the guards will catch us,” Harry explained. “They take their lunch at noon, so we need to be in position at a quarter to noon. What we’ll do is go into the edge of the Everfree far enough away that they can’t see us and we can’t see the barracks. Then we can start moving closer to the path until we reach the edge of what they monitor with magic. Once they go to lunch, we’ll cut at an angle into the forest and let the forest hide us as we sneak onto the trail. When we get on it, we’ll be far enough away for them not to see us. Got it?” He stared intently at the three fillies. They nodded eagerly. Harry sighed. The three fillies seemed distinctly lacking in survival instincts.

But this was not news to Harry. Not after the last year with them. How the four of them survived some of their adventures he could only attribute to luck. Certainly not to any caution the trio had displayed. Their sense of self-preservation always seemed to kick in a bit late, if at all.

Anyway, Harry regularly visited the guards to ask if they had seen or found anything new. He wanted to make sure the Portal was still undiscovered and his secret safe.

The guards thought it was sad. They suspected he was worried that whatever had hurt him might come through after him again. So, they went out of their way to reassure him that they were doing a good job of watching the area for suspicious activity. They repeatedly told him he didn’t have to worry, explaining their routines and what they watched for. They noticed he always left happier than when he arrived and congratulated themselves on helping the poor colt cope with his fears.

The foals’ trip through the orchard was steady and quiet. Harry used the same discreet approach he had used to find the portal previously. The girls readily followed his lead.

Faster than he wanted, they arrived at the edge of the forest. Sneaking closer to the barracks and his trail’s entry to the forest was nerve-wracking for all of them. He didn’t want to stray too far into the wilds of the Everfree, preferring to stay as close to the relatively “safe” edge as possible.

A pair of binoculars would have been nice, but Scootaloo’s pegasus vision more than made up for their lack. They were fortunate that the two guards on shift right now were both unicorns. He just had to rely on her to not impatiently rush things and take unnecessary chances.

“Harry,” she whispered, “The guards are headed back downstairs.”

“Great!” he answered just as quietly, “We’ll wait five minutes, then head for the trail.” He gave the fillies a frowning look. “Stay close to me and be quiet!”

The trail, by now, was quite well marked by the many guard ponies who had walked it, which made it ridiculously easy to find. As soon as they reached it, the girls rushed past him. He followed the three excited fillies as they bounded into the darkness under the forest’s canopy.

After a brief ten-minute fast trot they reached the end of the trail, beside a giant of a tree. The area around it was a tangle of roots barely covered by the moss and forest debris. The guard ponies’ regular patrols and checks for changes had packed down the forest floor at this spot. You could easily see the path the Guards walked as they circled a wide area enclosing several trees where they suspected the portal to have been.

Harry carefully walked up to the tree trunk and sat down, his back to the tree. As a human he would have been tempted to lean against the tree, but as a pony he sat leaning slightly forward with his front hooves nestled between his rear legs. He needed only a long furred tail to complete his impersonation of a cat. As it was, he had to remind himself not to sweep his tail back and forth nervously and accidentally fall through to his home world.

He had to smile at their determination, and loyalty, though. This world was so different from where he grew up. The fillies had said, and he had heard the adult mares talking the same way, that stallions were more than a bit reckless and it was the mares’ job to protect them and keep them out of trouble. These three had apparently made him their project, and he couldn’t say he minded one bit. It was nice to know someone . . . somepony . . . actually cared enough to look out for him.

Although, the three fillies weren’t all that much girly. At least, that is, what he thought of as girly. Back home they would have been called tom-boys with all their crazy schemes and predicaments. Was there a word “tom-colt”? Did that make him a “jane-filly” in Equestria with the way he tried to protect them and keep them out of trouble? The stallion-mare relationships were confusing to him.

Despite their mishaps searching for cutie marks, they were always a group. A herd, the fillies called it. And they wouldn’t dream of doing something without him. The first time they had had a sleepover in their clubhouse had been a revelation. For the very first time he could remember, he had not slept alone. And waking in the middle of a pony pile had been the best thing that had ever had happened to him. Well, second best thing. The first was falling into Equestria. Even knowing how the painful first weeks were going to be, he would eagerly have done it all again.

“Here it is,” he said, “This is where we lost the trail.” He looked down. “You can’t see it anymore, but there were scuff marks near this tree indicating I fell down here. Unfortunately, there weren’t any marks anywhere else except for the trail leading to the orchard. Twilight couldn’t find any residual magic that would show where a portal might have existed.”

The three fillies wandered around him, and the tree, and stared at everything else while he talked.

“Twilight searched for any signs of magical leakage. She said a portal should have been like a spring of magic welling up, but all she could detect was the normal background of wild magic here in the Everfree. There wasn’t anything else. The guards searched around for a hole or something that might conceal a portal. The Pegasus guards even flew around checking higher up branches. They poked and prodded just about everything. And found nothing.”

The fillies pushed against the other trees and hoofed the ground. They kicked big rocks that had roots wrapped around them. All to no avail. Eventually, they gave up and gathered around him, staring into the forest. Sweetie Belle sat and leaned against him. Apple Bloom sat on his other side and leaned against him as well. Scootaloo just walked circles around the tree. She stopped in front of him and sat.

She tilted her side to side a bit and asked, “What was your world like?”

He grimaced. He usually avoided talking about his world, except to Twilight — they had spent many hours on the subject. To the fillies, well, he had always given them some vague answer and switched the subject. Today, however, he had the feeling they wouldn’t let him get away with that tactic.

“Well, no magic, as I’ve told you. At least none that I knew of. We used technology for everything. I’ve told you we have trains. Our trains, though don’t use steam like yours, they use electricity and oil. They run much quieter and go much faster for far longer — no stops to refill the water, you see. You know how fast the train that stops here at Ponyville goes? Our trains regularly went twice as fast as that. There were even a few special trains that could go from here to Canterlot in under an hour instead of most of a morning or afternoon. None of those fast trains were where I lived, though.

“And we flew in planes. Planes are like train cars with wings that carry people and cargo everywhere by flying. Imagine a train with one car that could hold two hundred ponies, all at the same time. Now imagine that train with metal wings as wide as the train was long and flying through the air as fast as the fastest that Rainbow Dash could fly — and she can fly from here to Canterlot in fifteen minutes. We had thousands of those in the air all at the same time flying all over the world.

“And ships. We don’t use sailing ships, we use the same engines in ships that our trains do. And the ships are huge, some are as long as Ponyville is wide, and could carry as many as five thousand ponies at once. And cargo ships that are even bigger.”

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had moved to beside Scootaloo by this time. They looked at him in amazement. “Ohh, yer pulling our legs,” Apple Bloom said. The other two nodded, agreeing.

“Nope,” Harry said, “Honest truth. I’ve personally seen the planes flying over Little Whinging going to and from London. I saw the ships and trains on the telly.”

“Telly?” asked Sweetie Belle uncertainly.

“Oh, yeah, every house has at least one of those. It’s a box that shows films . . . ,” at their frowns he amended that to, “. . . plays and news from all over the world. England, where I lived, has two stations that send out plays all day and night to the tellies. Dramas, comedies, romances, you name it, they have a play for it. They have whole series of plays, like . . . well, imagine all the Daring Do books as plays, where you get a new play every week.

“And music stations, too, so you can listen to music at any time of the day.”

They were staring at him with wide eyes.

“Now I know you’re pulling our legs!” Scootaloo said.

“I am not!”

“Yes you are!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

“NO I’M NOT!”

“YES YOU ARE!”

“AM NOT!”

“ARE TOO!”

They glared at each other and then Scootaloo lunged forward to tackle Harry. Harry toppled over backwards. He saw wood shoot by beside him. And then it was bright out.

Startled by the sudden light, Harry blinked, looking up into the underside of the tree overhead. “Uh oh,” he said. He had been hoping that by sitting right in front of the portal he would prevent them from accidentally discovering it by tripping through it. He was pretty sure that their desire to find the portal to his home-world would trigger it in that case. And, it seemed, Scootaloo had.

The forest here was more open and much brighter than the oppressive Everfree.

“What was that?” Scootaloo said from her position on his chest. She blinked her eyes and started to look around. “Oh, wow!”

He twisted his head to the side and looked towards his feet. Just as he had feared, there was a tree there. Almost immediately two girls tumbled out of the tree on top of Harry and Scootaloo. And then rolled off to either side.

“Where are we,” Scootaloo asked in confusion.

“Oh, wow!” said Apple Bloom blinking and staring around. “Ya’ll just vanished!” She still had her pink bow in her hair, but it looked much smaller now.

“Ptui,” said Sweetie Belle, spitting out the dead leaves and forest debris she had accidentally gotten into her mouth when she fell down face first.

Harry sighed and said, “Welcome to my world.”

He pushed Scootaloo off to one side and slowly stood up, stretching muscles and feeling things shift that he hadn’t felt in months. It was awkward at first, he was out of practice at standing and walking on two legs. He swayed slightly, hands on his hips, looking down at the three girls, who, he now realized were naked. As he was. The nudity taboo he had grown up with kicked into high gear and he immediately turned around and started examining the trees around them.

Scootaloo was too busy looking at her new hands to complain about Apple Bloom landing on her.

“We gotta go back. Now,” Harry said urgently over his shoulder.

“What?” came the abstracted responses from the three girls staring around them in wonder.

“Look, we can’t stay here, we’ve got to go back. It’s dangerous here.”

“But I want to look around!” exclaimed Apple Bloom, doing just that.

“I thought you said your world didn’t have timberwolves, manticores, and all those other dangerous creatures that live in the Everfree!” said Sweetie Belle.

“They don’t, but the people are the ones we have to avoid! We can’t stay here, it’s dangerous. If someone sees us we might never get back to home,” Harry explained quickly.

“But I want to explore!” said Scootaloo.

Harry snorted, “You can’t even stand up, much less walk!”

“What!” said Scootaloo, offended, craning her neck to look up at him.

Harry rolled his eyes, still looking over his shoulder. “Okay, stand up and walk.”

“Ha!” she said, rolling onto her stomach and then getting to her hands and feet. She looked very silly with her butt up in the air. Fortunately, Harry thought, her head was towards him.

“That’s not standing up, this is,” Harry explained, standing with his arms out and turning sideways to her.

Scootaloo tried to imitate him and promptly fell on her butt. She rolled over onto her hands and feet again and tried to stand once more. It wasn’t possible from the position she was in.

Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle had started to look around and quickly homed in on the fact that Harry no longer had fur or a sheath to hide his . . . stuff . . . and was staring curiously, and blushing. Apple Bloom noticed her staring and followed her gaze, getting her own blush in turn. They had all seen stallions, of course, but this was different. Everything was just . . . out there.

Harry could hear the traffic from the nearby subdivision of houses and started to get worried. It was the middle of the day, and summer to boot. There was a good chance some kids might spot them. And a kid running home telling his parents about three girls and a boy in the woods by the park, all stark naked, would get the constables here immediately.

“Oh, god,” he said in a panic. “We’ve got to go back before anyone sees. Come on, hurry!” He pushed Scootaloo around to face the tree. She was still trying to go from standing on her hands and feet to standing on her feet only. Which gave him a view he really hadn’t anticipated. No longer a pony, she had no tail that he could pretend covered things up.

Fillies and mares didn’t seem to care about such things with older fillies and mares frequently flicking their tails aside when flirting with stallions. Stallions were the ones who were secretive. The reverse of what he was used to here.

“What are you doing?” she complained.

“I’ll explain later, we can’t stay here,” he said, his face nearly as red as Sweetie Belle’s and Apple Bloom’s. He put his hand on Scootaloo’s butt and pushed her at the tree, desperately wanting to go back to Equestria.

“AHH—!” she said falling towards the tree. The fact he had his hand on her must have helped, as she disappeared into the tree immediately on reaching it. It would have been more than a little awkward if she had just hit her head on the tree.

His obvious distress motivated the other two girls into following his orders, and grumbling, all three soon were stumbling out of the tree portal into the Everfree forest.

As soon as they were all there he collapsed on the ground. “Oh, thank god!” he said.

The three fillies rounded on him. “What was that all about?” Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom still had red faces, as did Harry.

“Look, I know you don’t understand, but in my world everypony wears clothes almost all the time. The only exceptions are when taking a bath or shower, and then you are alone. There are laws against not wearing clothes in public!

“If somepony saw us,” he continued, “they would call the constables, the guards. The guards would arrest us and take us back to their station. And when we couldn’t tell them where our parents were, they’d send us to foster homes or an orphanage and we’d probably never see each other again.

“If we tried to tell them we were from another world, they’d think we were sick and not thinking right and send us to a hospital, and again we’d probably never see each other.

“In fact, as soon as they saw how hard you found it to walk, they’d just take us to a hospital thinking something was wrong with you and split us up.

“And even if they just put clothes on us and let us go, how would we find that tree again? We have no idea where we were, or how to return. And asking the guards to take us back to where we were found would get us taken back to the hospital again as they tried to find out why we were so obsessed with a tree!”

“So,” said Sweetie Belle, “You’re saying that if we want to explore your world, we need clothes and to learn how to walk on two legs? And some way of marking where we are so we can get back here?”

“Well,” Harry said slowly, “Yeah, I guess so. But we’re not going back.”

All three fillies grinned slyly at him.

“No. Definitely not!” He shook his head emphatically.

“But Harry,” wheedled Scootaloo, “That could be our key to getting a cutie mark as daring explorers, like Daring Do!”

“Or a cutie mark in learning about other cultures!” put in Sweetie Belle.

“Or a cutie mark in adapting your world’s fashions to ours!” said Apple Bloom.

It took another month before he finally caved in. Coming into the clubhouse one fall afternoon to see all three fillies walking confidently on their hind legs while wearing dresses — well, more properly, sacks, that went from their necks almost to the floor — was the final argument. And he lost.

۸- ̰ -۸

16 — And a Child Shall Lead Them

Author's Note

Another First!
Featured on the Popular Stories list yesterday, June 11, 2018. Hurray!

16 — And a Child Shall Lead Them

Each of the fillies wilted under the fierce glare of a relative.

Spike had retreated to the hallway. He wanted no part of the drama, but his curiosity wouldn’t allow him to completely leave. Plus, Rarity was here!

“So,” snarled Applejack, “jest how long have y’all been visitin’ this here portal? How many times have ya been to his world?”

Apple Bloom gulped.

“You have been designing dresses and you haven’t shown me your designs?” an upset Rarity growled.

Sweetie Belle hung her head down and avoided her sister’s eyes.

Auntie Holiday simply glared at Scootaloo, who mumbled, “I am soo grounded.”

Twilight sat back. “I’m going to have to tell Princess Celestia about how lax the guards have been,” she said thoughtfully, staring at one of the library bookshelves with her eyes out of focus. “Three fillies and a colt regularly sneaking past them, both night and day!” She shook her head ruefully.

She straightened up, “But first, Harry Potter, you’re going to show me this portal so I can examine it myself!”

Harry shivered. “No,” he said quietly, but firmly.

All the mares turned to him. “No?” echoed Twilight disbelievingly.

Still shivering, he said, “If I show you, you’ll go through it. If you go through it, you’ll go as you are and that means you’ll be naked in my world. If someone sees you — and someone will see you because it’s a public park — you’ll be arrested and taken to the guard station. Once the tree is out of your sight, you’ll never find it again.” He took a shaky breath, “So, no! I won’t be responsible for losing you in my world.”

He shivered so hard he almost fell over. He had never defied Twilight before. Snuck under her rules, pretended to not hear her warnings, but never had he out-right, to-her-face, defied her. At the Dursley’s, that would have rated a severe beating. Here, he knew it didn’t, but the echoes of the paranoia and fear were still there.

“Before I show you the portal, you have to have a dress to wear. You have to know how to walk on your rear legs — remember how hard it was for me the first few days? And you have to agree to do as I say. I know my world. Terrible things can happen very fast, especially if someone is trying to do what they think is the right thing for you. Which for you, would be the absolutely wrong thing.”

He forced himself to look straight into her eyes. “In its own way, my world is as dangerous to you as the Everfree Forest is to a foal. You simply don’t know what’s dangerous and what isn’t, nor where to look for the danger.”

Twilight was staring at him as if she had never seen him before.

“He’s right, Twi,” said Applejack. “He’s telling the truth. He’s really worried for ya.”

The mares stood quietly, thinking, while the fillies stayed grouped around Harry, with Apple Bloom slightly in front of him.

“I can make you a simple dress in a few minutes, if I had a pattern,” said Rarity, looking at Sweetie Belle.

Sweetie Belle gulped and nodded quickly.

“And Apple Bloom and I can show you how to walk,” Scootaloo said eagerly. “It’s really not as hard as Harry makes it sound.”

Twilight blinked slowly, then nodded.

“I’ll . . . I’ll . . . go get the patterns,” Sweetie Belle said hesitantly, “They’re in our clubhouse.” She started to edge away from Harry keeping a wary eye on her sister, who was still giving her a stern glare.

“I’ll do it!” declared Harry quickly, and popped away before anypony could object.

Sweetie Belle sighed, she had been looking forward to escaping her sister’s death-glare.

Apple Bloom sighed, she wished she, too, had a reason to dash out.

Scootaloo just tried to hide behind her friends and look innocent. “I’ll be grounded until I’m older than Granny Smith,” she mumbled, glancing at her Aunt Holiday.

Into the short silence that had descended on the group came another “pop” as Harry reappeared, beside the three fillies.

“Here,” Harry said, removing three dresses from the box balanced on his back and tossing them towards his herd-mates. He dropped the box beside himself on the floor, then removed several large sheets of paper and floated them over to Rarity. “Those are the patterns that Sweetie Belle created. They’re real simple. We didn’t want anything that would stand out and make people remember seeing us.”

He stopped and looked eagerly at the fashionista.

The fillies had slipped into their dresses, each a simple modified plain summer dress in a solid colour, and now were standing up on their rear legs. In length, the dresses fell to the floor, which, when they were in Harry’s world, were half-way between their knees and the ground. These were a decided improvement over the sacks they had first tried to use. Rarity was alternately looking between the fillies and the papers held in her magic, comparing what the fillies wore to Sweetie Belle’s diagrams.

Harry concentrated, and carefully cast an illusion beside Scootaloo of what she looked like on the other side wearing the dress. “See how the lines are different? How the straps hold the dress up? And how much longer her legs are?”

The fillies were shuffling from hoof to hoof, unsure of how their relatives would take their new look. The unusual sight of their filly standing and moving almost naturally on only their rear hooves while wearing the most unusual dresses any of them had ever seen had the mares flummoxed into silence.

Rarity walked over and took a closer look at Sweetie Belle’s dress, then Scootaloo’s and Apple Bloom’s. Then compared them to the illusion Harry had cast.

They had decided on backless dresses to accommodate Scootaloo’s wings on this side. Unfortunately, Scootaloo had what looked like an extremely detailed tattoo of wings on her back when in Harry’s former world.

And to give a child a tattoo was very illegal in Britain and inevitably got Child Services involved. While the kids in the playpark might not care, their parents would surely notice and report Scootaloo to the constables. And the constables would take Scootaloo to their station and try to track down Scootaloo’s parents.

So, to keep anyone from questioning why and how she had gotten something so illegal, Sweetie Belle had sewn a cloth panel across the back between the wide shoulder straps. The bottom of the panel attached to the dress by two buttons. That kept the panel closed so the wind couldn’t blow it up and reveal Scootaloo’s secret, while allowing her wings to manifest in Equestria without causing her discomfort.

Twilight also moved closer and studied how the fillies were standing.

Auntie Holiday and Applejack continued to glare at their respective reckless niece and sister.

Rarity took a step over to Harry and looked into the box. “What about your clothes, Harry? Wait, what’s this?” A magazine floated up. Across the top was “VOGUE” with a headline at the bottom that said “Fast Forward . . . Summer Fashion on the Move, Glamourous Sportswear.” The background was a lake or bay with a city on the opposite shore. The woman on the front was wearing a red thigh-length bare-shoulders dress —a shorter version of what the fillies were wearing except theirs had wider neck openings — with green and blue animal designs.

Her jaw dropped. The cover opened and pages flipped by almost too fast for Harry to follow, but with each page Rarity became more excited. “This . . . this is a gold mine! The fashions . . . they’re nothing I’ve ever seen . . . nothing I’ve even imagined. This will revolutionize the fashion industry!” She turned to Sweetie Belle. “You’ve had this for months and you never told me?”

Her hurt expression made Harry feel terrible.

Sweetie Belle looked about to burst into tears and stared guiltily down at the floor.

“It’s my fault,” Harry confessed. “I made them all Pinkie Promise not to tell anyone,” he gave a half-hearted smile. “I was afraid that Princess Celestia would make me go back if she knew about the portal still being there and working.” He shuddered. “Later, well, I was afraid of how much trouble I would be in for keeping the portal a secret. And how much my world could do to hurt this one, even by accident.” Harry could just imagine what his uncle would do if he saw this idyllic world and the relatively defenceless ponies. He shuddered. “There are some very evil people in my world who wouldn’t hesitate to lie, cheat, and steal once they got here — and they act like perfectly nice people so you never suspect them.”

Twilight walked over to him and nuzzled his neck. “Harry,” she said softly, “We would never send you back to those horrid ponies, I promise.”

“People,” Harry corrected quietly, leaning into her mane.

After a moment, he reluctantly cleared his throat and said, “So, if you want to investigate the portal, Rarity needs to put together something like the girls are wearing for you mares. And while she is doing that, the girls can show you how they learned to walk.”

Twilight immediately turned to her unicorn friend, “Rarity, how fast do you think you can throw something together?”

Rarity was too wrapped up in investigating the magazine page by page to hear her, still flipping pages and occasionally stopping to stare.

“Rarity?”

Still nothing.

“RARITY!”

The white unicorn jumped and looked up at Twilight. “This thing has almost four hundred pages, and it says it’s a monthly publication,” she said dazedly. “That’s more pages than any fashion magazine in Equestria publishes in half a year.” She turned a stunned look to Harry. “What’s the circulation?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know for sure. A million?”

That seemed to snap her out of her daze.

“A million? Nonsense! That would be almost an eighth of the entire population of Equestria! And I can guarantee you that the number of ponies interested in fashion is far fewer than that!”

“Well, uh,” Harry stumbled, “London, the big city near where I used to live has a population of six million, and Britain as a whole is fifty-six million, if I remember correctly.”

“Fifty-six million?” half-whispered Rarity. The other mares, except Twilight, of course, looked just as stunned. He had told her this stuff months ago.

“Yeah, the world population is about five or six billion.”

“Billion?” Rarity said breathlessly.

“Uh, a billion is a thousand millions,” Harry explained.

They stared at him.

“Fillies,” said Applejack quietly, “He’s telling us the truth. He really believes those numbers.”

“I can prove it,” he pulled a thick book out of the box. “This is an almanac, it’s the 1985 version so it’s about five years out of date.”

Twilight snatched the book out of his magic field so fast it looked as if she had teleported it. She started reading, flipping the pages at a steady, and fast, rate.

“Where’d ya get these things, Harry,” Applejack asked.

Harry blushed, “Bin diving.”

At Applejack’s blank look, he added, “I went through the portal late one night and then went through people’s trash bins looking for magazines and stuff. To answer Twilight’s and the fillies’ questions.” He ran a hoof through his mane, “I got lucky and the first night I found those two things, so I took them.”

He shuffled uncomfortably, “I took the almanac because I wanted better answers for Twilight, even if I couldn’t tell her about the book. I just said I remembered more stuff a couple of days after she asked questions about where I came from.”

Applejack walked over the Twilight and waved a hoof between Twilight and the book. Twilight reared back, “GACK!”

Applejack glared at the purple alicorn. “Focus, Twilight! Portal!”

She then walked over to Rarity and did the same, snatching the magazine from her magic with her hooves. “Rarity, how long to make a simple dress!”

Rarity blinked, and returned to the problem at hand. “Not long, I just need to get some material.” She looked over to the colt, “Harry, are these dresses still appropriate for the weather in your home-world?”

“Oh, yes, it’s the high-summer there, quite like it is here now.”

She walked over to the alicorn. “Twilight, dear, stand up,” she gestured with her hoof.

Awkwardly, Twilight reared up. She was about to lose her balance when Harry used his magic to help push her back to her balance. She staggered a few steps, but managed to stay up right. Rarity spent the time comparing her with the fillies and Harry’s illusion. “Thank you, dear,” she said, “Now I know about how much material to use. I’ll be right back.” She trotted quickly to the door, stopping to stare back at Sweetie Belle, “And you have some explaining to do later, young mare!”

Sweetie Belle gulped and suddenly found something on the floor very interesting. Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and Harry closed rank to let her know they supported her.

As unhappy as she was, Rarity still managed a quick smile at the sight before she turned and left.

Twilight thumped back to the floor. “Is standing and walking in Harry’s world as difficult as it is here?” she asked the fillies.

“We might as well start calling it Earth,” Harry advised. “Otherwise it sounds like I own the place.”

Twilight and the fillies gave him smiles and nodded. “Earth it is,” said Twilight.

“Actually,” said Scootaloo, back on the original subject, “standing and walking is easier, there.”

Twilight raised her eyebrows.

“Watch this,” she instructed, removing her dress. She sat down and slowly leaned back until she was balanced on her butt and back legs. Then she slowly straightened just the upper parts of her legs, leaving her hocks, fetlocks, and hooves on the floor.

“It’s a little weird feeling at first,” she explained, “But everything from your hocks to your hooves are actually flat on the ground and you use them to help balance. And they’re really short, barely two hooves long instead of almost half your leg sticking out in front of you like now. Try it.”

Twilight followed her directions and was soon “standing” easily, rocking back and forth testing her balance.

“See how easy it is? Awkward, but easy.”

Twilight nodded. The other two mares were now doing the same, experimenting with this new way of standing. Even aunt Holiday was trying it.

“You’re right, it is much easier to stand,” Twilight said, and then tried to take a step. It was a short step, and she almost fell, but pressing with her fetlock kept her upright. After a few more attempts, she said, “It’s interesting, I have to consciously not go up onto my hooves when I take a step.”

“On Harry’s . . . ,” Scootaloo glanced at the colt, “Earth, it’s not a problem at all. If you want to go up on your hooves, what Harry calls our toes, you have to consciously try to do it. But it’s really hard to keep your balance, though.”

Harry thought that watching the mares clump around the room like clowns with really big shoes on their feet was hilarious, but he couldn’t explain to them why it was funny.

While Twilight was practicing, she had Spike send a six-foot missive — she called it short at merely one celestial long — to Princess Celestia summarizing the situation. She included a separate one-foot-long explanation on how the fillies taught her to walk upright. And then ended with a “brief” two-foot-long explanation of her intent to study the Portal and ascertain its stability and usability as a permanent link to Earth, and to expect another message later this evening. She also included duplicates of the almanac, magazine, and Sweetie Belle’s drawings.

Watching as Spike sent the tightly rolled scrolls, the shorter ones inside the longer one, off to the Princess, Harry wondered how Twilight expected her very busy ruler to have the time to read the unexpected message. He knew she would have to hand the almanac over to others to read.

Barely an hour after leaving, Rarity returned with not one, but four dresses.

“Took ya long enough,” Applejack said snarkily.

Rarity sniffed and tossed her head dismissively. “Quality can never be rushed, dear,” she said in a snooty voice, lifting her snout up, and then grinned at the other mare.

Twilight slipped her dress over her head and admired its straight simple lines. It was a deep purple that matched her coat perfectly, with the slightest shimmer of stars in it. And it seemed to fit her well. She looked up questioningly at the white unicorn.

Rarity rolled her eyes, “Dear, you know I have your measurements, all I had to do was stand up a ponykin and select the correct fabric.” She floated one of the other dresses to Applejack. That one was apple green.

Applejack looked at her questioningly.

“Dear, are you really going to let Twilight walk through that portal, alone?”

To Scootaloo’s aunt she said, “I had to guess at your measurements, but I’m usually good at that.”

Five minutes later, an alicorn, three mares, a colt, three fillies, and a young dragon headed out to Sweet Apple Acres. Twilight had the almanac firmly in front of her face rapidly absorbing as much information as she could. The colt and fillies were closely packed, rubbing shoulders and flanks for reassurance. The mares had wanted to leave the fillies behind, but Harry had said, “They have spent hours on Earth, and even talked with some of the other kids. They are far more likely to keep you out of trouble than you, them.” It was a rather persuasive argument. And while the mares were not all that convinced, Harry’s stance of, “If they don’t come along, then I won’t show you how the portal works,” had been the final close of the discussion.

When they arrived at the Guard Post, Twilight greeted Sergeant True Sword, “Harry Potter, here, knows where the portal is. You will accompany us while Corporal Runner goes to the Guard Station and brings reinforcements.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” responded the Sergeant, with a salute, before turning to his Corporal and issuing the order to send every pony who could be spared. The Corporal nodded and stood unmoving.

Harry was wondering why the pony wasn’t moving when he abruptly vanished. Ah, he understood, now. The Corporal was one of the few unicorns who had taken the time to master the teleport spell. Harry had to wonder why they all didn’t learn it.

The small group headed into the Everfree Forest, the Sergeant leading the way and carefully inspecting the path for any dangers ahead or to the sides. Shivering at being in the Everfree forest, Holiday made sure to stay between Applejack and Rarity.

They had barely gone twenty paces when the Corporal ran up to the Sergeant.

“Sir,” he said, gasping a little at his expenditure of magic, “The pegasi are on their way and will be here soon. The others will be here as fast as practical.”

“Excellent, Corporal,” the Sergeant said approvingly, “you watch the left while I take forward and right.”

A salute and, “Yes, Sir,” was his answer.

They had almost reached the portal tree when five pegasi Guards, weaving through the trees, flew up to them.

Once they all arrived at the tree, the Sergeant posted the guards in a ring around the tree and civilians. “Shall I be accompanying you?” he asked Twilight.

“Um, no, unfortunately the portal changes our shapes and you wouldn’t be of assistance due to your unfamiliarity with your new form. Stay here and keep everyone else safe.”

Twilight then turned from the Sergeant and began casting spells at the tree, the other trees around it, on the ground, and even a few that seemed to go up into the air. Her quill shot across a floating scroll almost too fast for the ink to flow. Finally she returned her attention to the tree and walked around it several times studying it from every angle and continuously casting more spells.

Harry shrugged on his shirt and trousers, which were an odd fit in his pony form; he had to leave the buttons undone on the shirt and the trousers draped over his back. He had to hold them in place with his magic. The fillies slipped their dresses on and stood up on their hind legs. Twilight, Applejack, and Rarity followed suit, but with much less grace. They had to hold the dresses’ hems off the ground with their hooves in this new stance.

“And you’re taking the fillies and colt?” the Sergeant asked incredulously, with a raised eyebrow, as Harry and the fillies lined up beside the tree-portal. They clearly intended to go through the portal.

“Well, Sergeant,” Twilight said dryly, “It seems the fillies and colt have been sneaking past your post and traveling to the world on the other side of this portal for over a year now.”

The Sergeant, a grizzled veteran, blinked slowly. “They have, have they?” He turned a glare on the four. He would have a few words with his ponies when today was done. And he knew his superiors would be having words with him over the Post’s security failures.

“And they are the experts in what to expect over there,” she finished.

Harry gave the Sergeant a guilty look and turned back to the tree. Twilight stepped up beside him. He looked up at her. “To make it work, you have to want to go to Little Whinging. Just think, ‘Little Whinging.’ Wait about fifteen seconds for me to make sure there’s no one there to see us come through, okay?”

He looked back at the tree, stood on his back legs, and stepped into it.

۸- ̰ -۸

17 — Once More Into the Breach

It was late afternoon in Little Whinging, just as it was in Equestria. It was odd how closely things in one paralleled the other, including all those terrible pony-puns on objects or place-names — Encyclopaedia Bitannica instead of Encyclopaedia Britannica or Baltimare instead of Baltimore, for example. There must be some sort of magical leakage between the two worlds.

He took a quick look around and saw no one. He checked a couple of the branches and sticks he had left lying in certain spots to see anyone had even been close to here. Nothing was disturbed, he was happy to see. He pulled his trousers into a more comfortable position, tightened his belt, put on his sandals, and buttoned his shirt.

He had barely finished when Twilight came stumbling through, her saddlebags now on her hips like a pair of fancy bum-bags, which promptly slid to the ground. He caught her arm and quickly braced his side against hers to help her keep her balance. Immediately behind her came Spike, who tripped over her saddlebags. Remarkably enough, he remained a dragon! A well-dressed dragon to be sure — Rarity and Twilight has used their magic to readjust some of his old clothes from when he and Twilight had lived in Canterlot and had to attend formal functions there — but still a dragon! Grumbling, he grabbed the fallen saddlebags so they wouldn’t be in the way of the fillies following him.

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were next, and they caught Applejack and then Holiday as they stumbled through. Then Sweetie Belle appeared and right behind her was Rarity. The fillies slipped on their sandals as their relatives adjusted their clothes.

The four mares and dragon looked around wonderingly at the strangely not-menacing forest. First Twilight, then the other mares noticed that while Scootaloo didn’t have wings, she did have what looked like incredibly detailed wings drawn on her back. She adjusted the cloth panel on the back of her dress and Sweetie Belle buttoned the two buttons to hold it down for her.

The same was true for Twilight. The mares spent a few minutes admiring the details. They could even see the ribbing on the feathers and their colours subtly shifting. Then Sweetie Belle stepped over and buttoned the buttons on the cloth panel for her. Next time, Twilight would do it herself.

The other detail was that all the females had luxurious waist-length hair.

Applejack and Apple Bloom stood out from the others. Applejack because of her very out of place light brown Stetson hat and Apple Bloom because of her pink hair-bow. Both of which were comically small on their human heads.

Harry was rather surprised at how stunningly pretty Twilight looked. He knew from what others had said that as a pony she was considered quite cute and many had said she would be beautiful in a few years. But even he could see she was going to get a lot of attention from the men in his world.

Rarity’s dress-making, although wonderful on such short notice and vague patterns, had made no allowances for the breasts the former mares now possessed. Pony breasts were in a completely different location and barely noticeable unless the pony was nursing. Even seeing the pictures in the magazine hadn’t prepared Rarity for the reality of what that translocation meant. Or that the results would be so markedly different from what they considered normal. Or vary so much between individual mares.

Rarity and Twilight were what he thought would be average while Applejack and Holiday was surprisingly large. All four women were straining the upper stitching on what had been loose clothes — some much more than others. Harry knew the dresses would have to be altered when they returned — Rarity hadn’t brought enough supplies to make changes on the spot. It also reminded Harry to mention that underwear would probably be a good idea. Although explaining the why’s and how’s would be incredibly embarrassing. It made his face hot just to think about it.

“Woah!” said Spike, looking around.

Harry pointed, “The play-park is that way about a hundred steps.” He swung his arm about one hundred twenty degrees to his left, “Little Whinging about a hundred and fifty steps that way, but you have to go around a couple of fallen trees so it’s a bit of a longer walk than that. You can’t see anything from here because we’re in a small depression.”

Harry looked at Spike and shook his head. Did Spike remaining a dragon instead of turning into a human mean there were dragons in his world and he had never known? Did that mean that because the fillies and mares coming through as girls and women that there weren’t pegasi and unicorns in his world? “Spike,” he said, “I’m sorry but you’re really going to have to try to hide. There aren’t dragons here that I know of and anyone seeing you will definitely call the Guard!”

Spike shrugged. He was small, he could do that easily.

They slowly made their way to the park. The fillies concentrated on making sure the mares didn’t fall down — they were getting better with every step, but it was still a learning experience. The uneven surface didn’t help. Nor the adults lack of shoes of any kind.

They stopped at the forest edge to watch some children playing on the slides and swings. There were a couple of housewives on a bench, talking, as their toddlers played in a sandbox not far from the swings.

A car drove down the street that bordered the west side of the park, getting all three mares and Spike to stare at it. “What’s that?” asked Applejack.

“That’s a car, a cart with an engine that makes it move and everyone rides inside the covered compartment. No magic.”

One of Twilight’s saddle-bags that Spike was still carrying opened and a quill and paper floated out. Harry grabbed them. “Don’t, Twilight. People will see and wonder how you did that. Then they would come over and we’d get caught.” He stuffed them back into the bag while Twilight pouted.

Rarity was staring intently at the three houses they could see on the other side of the road. “They’re all the same,” she said disapprovingly, “and so plain!”

“Let’s head back, now,” Harry suggested. “You need more practice walking or you’ll attract unwanted attention.”

On the way back all four mares started complaining about the small sticks and stones poking their feet. They were not used to things hurting their hooves as they walked, except in the rare case of a stick or stone hitting just the right part of the frog in their hooves.

Harry stopped and balanced on one leg while holding the other across his knee and pointing at the sandal he was wearing. “That’s the other reason we need to go back. People wear shoes to protect their feet. If you don’t have shoes, your feet will get cuts that can get infected and send you to hospital if you aren’t careful. Sweetie Belle made these out of some thick scrap cloth you had at the Boutique, Rarity.”

Once they were back in Equestria, Twilight said to the Sergeant, “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to place a watch on this now that we know where the portal is. I’m sure Princess Celestia will have a full garrison posted here by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

By now another five ponies had arrived. The Sergeant quickly assigned four to maintain watch, two on the tree and two on their surroundings so they weren’t ambushed by anything from the Everfree. They would change shifts with the other Guards every four hours until relief from Canterlot arrived.

The four mares discovered that although they didn’t have scratches on their hooves, the skin covering the backs of their pastern and cannon bones were scratched and very sore. It wasn’t a real problem, but their legs ached all the way home.

Twilight buried herself in the Almanac before the tree-portal was out of sight. Rarity, Applejack, and Holiday were quiet, while Holiday glared at Scootaloo who was doing her best to hide behind Harry and her two friends.

Spike, riding on Twilight’s back again, was the only one for conversation with them as he pestered the fillies and Harry with endless questions about what they had seen on their previous trips. The three mares listened closely, and followed the colt and fillies to make sure none of them ran off into the forest chasing something. The mares did not find the details the fillies were sharing amusing in any way, shape, or form.

Applejack dragged Apple Bloom off as they reached the Sweet Apple Acres homestead, while Rarity took Sweetie Belle with her once they reached town. Rarity had a busy evening planned, she told them, as she not only intended an in-depth discussion with Sweetie Belle, but also planned on making sandals for them all based on the outlines they had made of their feet before returning through the portal. The glare she gave the filly while saying this promised the discussion was not going to be pleasant.

Auntie Holiday led Scootaloo off with the promise that she and Auntie Loft were going to having a serious discussion with her after dinner, as well!

All three fillies had looked back at Harry with expressions of dread as their sisters and relative dragged them by the ear towards their homes — with a constant “ow, ow, ow, leggo, ow.” All he could do was give them each a mournful look of encouragement. It didn’t seem to help much.

Harry watched and marvelled as Twilight unerringly walked from the tree-portal into town and to the castle, opened the door, held it for him, and closed it, and then walked into the kitchen and started to fix the three of them a cup of tea, all without once taking her muzzle out of the almanac or making a single misstep. And making notes the entire while. It was quite impressive, actually. He wondered if it was just that her large eyes, in comparison to his as a person and not a pony, gave that much better peripheral vision? Or was she using her magic on an extremely low level that kept her from walking into anything or anypony? He would have to try that later.

While Harry and Twilight sat at the table drinking their tea, Spike decided he needed to fix dinner and bustled around the kitchen with occasional stops to take a sip of his tea (sweetened with sapphire dust instead of sugar).

Only after eating dinner did Twilight put aside her research. “A very interesting book,” she said. “Mostly statistics, but the section on your history was quite illuminating, the sports was not.” She paused and looked at Harry. “Your people are quite violent. According to this,” she tapped the book with a hoof, “Your home country, Great Britain, has had 162 wars in 278 years. It hasn’t had a peace that lasted longer than six years in that entire time. As a whole, it looks like the countries of your home-world have been at non-stop war for the last three thousand years.”

Harry nodded. He knew they fought a lot, but that still was appalling considering that Equestria had been without a war for almost a thousand years — until the last two years, in fact. Although all the Equestrian fighting involved villains and not other countries trying to invade, except Chrysalis and the changlings, of course.

“But the medicine advances they talk about — blood transfusions, in vitreo conception, vaccines, operating on foetuses . . . are mind-boggling. And your technology — you’ve been to the Moon!” She shivered in excitement. “I can hardly wait to see it all for myself!” She was trotting in place, again, and her eyes were glowing slightly at the prospects of the things she could learn.

“Twilight, focus,” Spike said sharply. He pointed a claw across the table, “Harry!” Now that she was out of the current binge-reading there was hope he could get her back on track. “Hogwarts! Remember?”

She gave Spike a blank look, then glanced at Harry. She blinked and Harry could see her mentally shifting from one topic to another. “Oh, yes.” She blushed. “Sorry about that, Harry. It’s just,” she glanced down at the book, “you know, knowledge!”

She shook herself. She pulled a checklist out of her saddlebag. “Alright. Go to Guard Post at the edge of the Everfree? Check. Check in with the Guards? Check. Explain why we’re there? Check. Request more guards? Check. Follow Harry to Portal? Check. Find Portal location? Check. Survey area around portal for dangers? Check. The portal still exists? Check. The portal is still accessible? Check. The portal hasn’t moved? Check. The portal can still be used? Check. . . .”

Harry and Spike sighed. This would take a few minutes for her to catch up.

“. . . Return to Library? Check. Fix tea? Check. Spike fixes dinner? Check. Eat? Check. Start new list for the evening?” A blank scroll floated out of her saddlebag and unrolled beside her. “Check.” She set her list down and sighed, satisfied at completing her list. The quill started scribbling in the new scroll.

“Alright, Harry, we know you can travel safely back and forth. The next question is, do you want to go to this Hogwarts school?” She looked at him intently.

Harry looked up, startled. “Go to the school? Why would I want to go there? I like it better here. Besides, what would it cost? How would I pay for things? Where would I live?”

She nodded, her quill flying across the scroll. “All good questions, I’ll check with Princess Celestia about those things. As for why? Why, to learn about your world’s magic!” Her grin had a slightly manic look to it, wider than normal with her eyes also a bit wider. Her in-place trotting picked up speed. “Just think of all the things you can learn there that we don’t know here! A whole new world of magic! You’ll be able to teach me so much when you come back. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime!” Her grin now stretched almost to her ears.

He stared at her a moment. “Do I have to?” he asked softly.

She stared at him as if he had grown a second head. Spike was staring, too.

“I mean,” he continued just as softly, staring at the table-top, “I’ll be gone for nine months.” He drew a circle on the table-top with a hoof. “I’ll have to leave my . . . friends. I’ll be there and . . . Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom will be here.” He looked up at her. “I don’t want to leave them. They’re special. I’ve never had friends before.”

Twilight leaned back. This was a completely unexpected development. Harry could see that turning down the opportunity to learn new magic — the magic of his home world — left her perplexed. She couldn’t understand it.

She stared at him. He sighed again, looking at the table-top dejectedly. She had told him last fall all about how Princess Celestia had taken her under her wing as her personal student when she was only eight, younger than him, and he would be eleven next week if he had calculated things right.

But Twilight hadn’t left everything behind, her parents had been right there in Canterlot. She had spent many evenings with them after they got off work and she finished her studies. Not to mention the family outings on weekends and holidays. As she had gotten older and the Princess had taken a more active role in her education, she had moved into the castle and visited her parents and brother on weekends, whenever she wanted. And he knew this.

He would be leaving everything behind. He didn’t want to do that. He was loved here, he knew it. He didn’t need to learn magic back there, he was perfectly content with the magic here. And his friends were here, not there.

Besides, she had said she would never force him to go back. Unless that was a lie. He felt the beginnings of panic rear up.

After a few moments, her expression slowly changed from puzzled to contemplation, to understanding. She smiled reassuringly at the colt. “No, Harry,” she softly, her affection clear in her voice, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” She paused, thinking. “Perhaps we can ask the ponies at Hogwarts if your filly friends can go with you. Then you wouldn’t be alone.” She sidled up to him and wrapped a wing around him, cuddling him.

Harry looked up at her hopefully. “Really?” If the girls came with him, well, then, he wouldn’t care where he was. As long as it wasn’t with the Dursleys.

She shrugged, still smiling, “We can only ask. When we send your reply, we can state in it that you will only attend if your friends can, too.”

“But they’re not unicorns, will they be able to do magic?”

Twilight laughed. “Pegasi certainly have magic, how do you think they fly and buck clouds? And earth ponies make things grow! That’s certainly magical. You know that!

“And if the school says no, then you stay here.”

Harry ran a hoof through his mane, thinking. “What will Applejack, Holiday, Lofts, and Rarity say? What if they say no?”

Twilight hummed to herself a moment. “I’m sure that I can convince them to let the fillies go with you.”

Slowly he nodded. Right. When a Princess, one of the rulers of your homeland, asks a favour, few are willing to refuse.

“Okay,” he said. Getting the girls to agree would be easy — all he had to say was ‘we might get our cutie marks.’ Plus they would jump at the chance to see his world without having to sneak past their relatives all the time. They were especially interested in seeing those things called films. If they were there officially, they’d have money and could do things like that. He wondered what they would think of a human amusement park.

“Spike,” Twilight said, interrupting him cleaning the dishes, “Would you take down a message for Princess Celestia?”

“Sure thing!” the young drake said hopping down from his stool and waddling over to the table. He pulled a quill and blank scroll from Twilight’s saddlebags.

۸- ̬ -۸

Dear Princess Celestia,

Harry and the fillies, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle, were kind enough to show me, Applejack, Holiday, Rarity, and the Guards the location of the portal. It was right where we thought it should be! To open the portal you first have to want to go to Little Whinging, and then step through. That’s why we didn’t find it! We were looking for a portal, not a portal-to-Little-Whinging (see enclosed notes and drawings, Appendix A).

It’s a lovely world! The forest around the portal is welcoming and quiet, although the air has a very mild but distinct taste of badly burnt cooking oil. After a few moments, though, I didn’t notice it anymore. Harry says there are no dangerous wild animals anywhere nearby. We took a short walk of about fifty celestials to the park where he said his cousin accosted him last year. Based on preliminary measurements the distance measured as a “mile” in the “almanac” is about a thousand celestials, and a “kilometre” is about 700 celestials (see detailed notes and drawings, Appendix B).

While we were there a car, an enclosed conveyance for carrying ponies, drove by. It had neither ponies pulling nor magic moving it, and made quite a bit of noise! Nothing too objectionable, but we could easily hear it from over several hundred celestials. It was also made entirely of some shiny metal and had glass windows completely encircling it (for sketches and details of the car, see Appendix C).

One important discovery I have made is that their “feet” are extremely sensitive and the smallest pebble or thorn can bring instant pain. Shoes, as Harry has told us before, are a requirement (see enclosed drawing of the sandals Sweetie Belle made for them, Appendix D)!

In the park we saw two adults watching their children play on the swings and in a sandbox. As Harry has said about his people, they were all wearing clothes that completely covered them from neck to knees for the “girls” (fillies) and the “boys” (colts) wore shirts with trousers that were either very short or reached to their feet. They all wore shoes (see enclosed notes and drawings of both the shoes and the play-park equipment, Appendix E).

On the subject of Harry attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he has decided that he will not attend the school by himself. He sees Equestria as his home and has little interest in leaving. In addition, spending nine months away from here, bereft of his friends — when he has never had friends before — is not something he desires to do. However, he has said that if his friends, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle, were allowed to attend then he would be willing to enroll with them.

We intend to ask about that possibility when we send his letter to them.

I can hardly wait to hear what he can tell me about their magic! This is just so exciting! (See Appendix F for miscellaneous drawings and details about the other things we saw while there.)

Your Faithful Student

Twilight Sparkle

۸- ̬ -۸

After watching Spike incinerate the missive with its accompanying scrolls, Harry sat back and thought about what this really meant. Up to now, he hadn’t had the time to dwell on what it might actually mean to return to Earth — he no longer considered it his home. Home was here, in Equestria, with his filly friends. Learning what magic could do there might be interesting, it might be fun, but he could learn magic here. It was fun here. He would never be as powerful or as good at it as Twilight, but if you had all the spells you needed to do what you wanted, why did you need to know more?

“Twilight?” he said quietly, “would you teach me the Book Manifestation Spell?”

“Hmm?” came the tinny reply. She was already into the almanac.

“The Book Manifestation Spell?” he repeated, louder.

A moment later, she was back. She looked down at him for a moment, frowning. “Why?”

He looked up at the ceiling, choosing his words carefully, “If I’m going to learn Earth’s magic at that school, I won’t have such a good teacher as you doing it, so I’ll need to study harder to learn the stuff.” He dropped his gaze back to her. “At least, based on what I remember of my primary teachers, you’re much better than they were. You care more. You’re more patient.

“Which means it’s easier to learn from you. And you won’t be there to teach me or to answer my questions. So, I need some way to study better, really to understand what the book is trying to tell me. And you’ve told me ‘you’d be amazed what you can pick up when you’re actually in a book.’”

She blushed at his praise. “Well, I’m not sure if you can do it. It is a fairly complicated spell compared to the ones most colts your age can cast.” She stopped and smiled at him, “But your levitation, teleportation, and illusionary spells are coming along nicely. I don’t see why we can’t see if you can master it.”

A book flew off a shelf and landed in front of them, opening to a page near the middle. “Here’s the spell,” she said, pointing with a hoof. “Read it and let me know when you’ve got it.”

۸- ̬ -۸

18 — Preparations

She had reviewed the Book Manifestation Spell’s structure twice with Harry when Spike suddenly belched out a flame. They were all surprised to see not only a scroll, but a book, land in front of him. “Look, Twilight,” Spike said excitedly, “Princess Celestia has already answered!” He ran over to the two of them with both items.

۸- ̰ -۸

Dear Twilight, Our Faithful Student,

We are pleased to hear that you have located the portal to Harry Potter’s home world, Earth, and verified that it is stable and two-way. Your announcement has stirred up quite a bit of interest in the Magical and Social Research communities! We doubt any of them will sleep tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or the night after that . . . .

Since Harry Potter’s arrival last year We have been studying and debating the proper course of actions to take in the event of the portal’s eventual discovery. The book and magazine you provided today will be a big help to our researchers, in that regard.

A battalion of Royal Engineers and a company of Royal Guards will arrive in Ponyville tomorrow to establish a fortified perimeter around the portal to protect it from the denizens of the Everfree Forest. They will begin building a permanent port-of-entry for travel to and from this new world. They will also be building similar structures, on a smaller scale, in Harry Potter’s world, at the appropriate time.

Four Guard squads have been dispatched to the portal tree to relieve the Guards posted there and to set up a proper rotation. They should arrive within the hour.

We had not intended to reveal Ourselves this quickly, if ever, to the inhabitants of this new world until after trained scouts had studied it and rendered their opinions. Unfortunately, the letter delivered by owl to Harry Potter — which must be answered in a timely fashion — has forced Our Hooves in this matter.

We would not presume to prevent Harry Potter from getting the education he needs from his people. On the other hoof, neither would We presume to force Harry Potter to return there against his will. Please relay to Harry Potter how important We feel continuing his education in his home world will be, both to him, personally, as a growing colt, and to Equestria as a whole, in learning about the magic in his world.

Should Harry Potter decide to pursue his education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, We wish to assure him that any and all expenses he might incur will be fully covered by Us.

Harry Potter has Our full support, both emotionally and physically, no matter which course he decides to take.

We understand that Harry Potter has expressed reservations about attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by himself and has said that he will only attend if his filly friends are allowed to attend as well. We well understand his reasoning, and, again, support him fully. If any of the fillies wish to attend with him, and the Headmistress at the School allows it, then We will provide them with the same support we do Harry Potter. His and their attendance at this school will help establish Equestria’s presence in this new world, and he and they, and the fillies’ families, will have Our gratitude for assisting us in this endeavour.

Should Harry Potter decide to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with his filly friends, We wish you and your friends to accompany them to ensure their well-being and safety while they are acquiring their school supplies and taking their first steps into this new world (Naturally, you and your friends will be compensated for the time spent away from your and their professions here in Equestria).

If, at any time, you feel the situation is too dangerous for the colt and fillies, or they feel threatened for any reason, you have full authority to cancel the arrangements with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and return them and yourselves to Equestria, posthaste.

We have appointed Our nephew, Prince Blueblood, as Our Ambassador to this new world. Render what aid you can to establish a proper Embassy in this new world, secondary to assisting Harry Potter and his filly friends until he is situated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, of course.

Once they have arrived at the school and arrangements made for their housing, you may return to your normal duties here in Equestria, at your leisure. A pony at the embassy will be appointed permanent liaison to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry while Harry Potter and the fillies are in attendance, and arrangements will be made for regular communications between them and their families.

In this endeavour you have Our full confidence and We grant you the authority to act in Our Names without reservation. Your Word is Our Law.

The book accompanying this letter is a proposed outline for establishing peaceful relations with Earth, as well as possible responses should peaceful relations not be possible.

Perhaps Harry Potter will have some ideas on how to take those first steps?

We look forward to your letters telling Us of your adventures and friendships in this new world.

Princess Celestia,

Princess Luna.

۸- ̰ -۸

Harry stared at Twilight as she stared at the book. He could almost see her eyes glazing over at the prospects of what the book entailed. Spike sighed, anticipating a sleepless night.

Twilight shook her head and looked around the library, thinking. “Spike? Would you go tell Rarity, Sweetie Belle, and Pinkie Pie that I would like them to meet me here with the other mares for breakfast tomorrow so we can plan? Harry, would you relay the same message to Holiday, Lofts, and Scootaloo? I’ll do the same for Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Fluttershy. Tell them this is at the Princesses’ request.” After they nodded their understanding, she teleported away, probably to Fluttershy’s first.

Seconds later, Harry was knocking on the door where Scootaloo lived. Harry could hear a loud voice inside. Lofty opened the door, and the voice became clearer. It was Holiday giving Scootaloo a right proper scolding.

“Harry Potter,” said Lofty, “What brings you here?” The scolding in the background cut off and hoof-steps headed their way.

He scuffed his hoof on the porch, feeling guilty for getting Scootaloo in trouble. He looked up the Scootaloo’s aunt. “Twilight Sparkle would like you, Holiday, and Scootaloo to come over tomorrow for breakfast. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna have a project they want you to help her with. It has to do with the portal and Scootaloo going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world on the other side with me.”

Scootaloo had him in a tight hug, “You want me to go with you to learn magic!?”

He shrugged and hugged her back, “Well, yeah, you didn’t think I would leave you, AB, and Sweetie behind, did you? You all have magic of a sort. I’m going to put in my letter that if you all can’t go then I won’t, either. I’d rather be here with you than there without.” She squeezed him even harder.

Her aunts were exchanging looks behind Scootaloo and Harry could see them mouthing “Princesses?” to each other with incredulous expressions. He smirked. Yeah, like they would ever say no to a request from Princess Celestia. And while Twilight was a princess, she didn’t yet have the impact and seriousness that a thousand plus year old ruler did.

Reluctantly, Scootaloo let him go. He noticed her eyes seemed a bit moist, but thought it probably was from the scolding she was getting when he arrived. “Well, anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waved goodbye, and then turned and headed back to the library. He really needed to learn that Book Manifestation spell.

He scrunched up his face. Books. School books. He had saddlebags, but most kids didn’t use rucksacks at school in Little Whinging. The Dursleys had never allowed him one — and Dudley had made sure his castoffs were too torn and damaged for Harry to use.

He didn’t know if the students at Hogwarts carried rucksacks. And carrying books was always difficult — well, only because Dudley kept knocking them away from Harry every chance he could get. If only he could carry his books and school supplies without needing to carry them! Unless he could carry them in his magic . . . his magic was good enough to carry the books, but he wasn’t sure about adding the paper and pens and gloves and the other things mentioned in the letter.

He spent the rest of the evening trying to study the Book Manifestation spell while Twilight repeatedly interrupted him to ask his opinion about the Princesses’ plans for contacting Earth authorities. After his first answer, “Find a really good solicitor,” the rest became, “I don’t know” and “Ask the solicitor.” It did sound like the Princesses had been quite thorough in their plans, with contingences on top of contingencies.

The most optimistic plan had the British Government treating them as honoured guests and setting up exchanges of scientists and magicians to explore each other’s world and societies, and seeking common grounds for trade and the exchange of knowledge. The next most likely was open hostility by the British military and viewing the Equestrians as an invading force intent on conquering them. The worst assumed a world-wide war erupting as the various countries of the world fought Britain and strove to seize the portal. In the last case, assuming that there was no hope of peaceful relations, the Princesses planned to seal the portal from both ends. And there were another dozen variations on each of those outcomes.

There was even a plan to attempt to send the portal into the sun if the portals couldn’t be closed and the humans refused to take no for an answer. Nothing says “we don’t want to deal with your crap” better than moving the portal exit from a somewhat peaceful forest to the twenty-million-degree heart of a star.

The truly worrying thing was the address on Harry’s letter. Did the Earth people now know about Equestria? Plus, the letter gave no indication on where the school was or how to get to it. They would have to ask for that information, which meant another letter would be sent to them, or perhaps a person would actually visit. If they could provide a location, a home, as it were, on the other side, maybe they could keep the secret of Equestria’s portal safe for a little longer?

When Harry and Spike went up to bed, Twilight was still studying the book and making her own branching checklist on what to do and when — it was already taking up the entire kitchen table after only a few minutes. Harry thought it would probably be the size of Ponyville when she finished — and folded into a single book that only showed the relevant branch at any one time.

Harry did manage to get the Book Manifestation spell to work. It only lasted a few seconds, unfortunately. But he was in the book. And once he was in it and started looking around before he was ejected from it, he quickly realized that he did understand the spell better! It was as if the author herself was talking to him, showing him things about the spell that mere words couldn’t convey. The next time would be much easier.

۸-_-۸

The next morning everyone gathered in the castle’s dining room. The fillies, after scarfing down their breakfast, stood beside Harry. They looked very happy at the prospect of going with him and openly exploring this new-to-them world. And the opportunity to do so without getting into trouble at home made it just so much sweeter.

Princess Twilight was wearing her crown to impress upon everyone the importance of the issue. With numerous interruptions by Spike and Applejack to keep her on track, Twilight brought the other mares up to speed on the current situation.

“So,” Applejack said, “The Princesses want us to go to this, Earth, Harry’s old home, and make sure he and the fillies are safely enrolled in this Hogwarts magic school?”

Twilight nodded, “And help Prince Blueblood set up an embassy.”

“And they really think Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is important enough that Harry and the fillies should go there?” asked Rarity, with a worried glance at her sister.

Twilight nodded, again, “Well, if not for the letter to Harry, even if we had found the portal we wouldn’t have suspected that there were ponies there who could do magic. The only way we have to learn about that magic is for Harry to go to the school.” She glanced at Harry. “And he won’t go without his friends,” she said, looking at him with a soft smile.

The fillies leaned a little harder against Harry.

“Hey,” said Rainbow Dash, dismissively, “I don’t see the problem. It’s a school! It can’t be all that dangerous. They’ll be just as safe there as if they were going to the Ponyville Schoolhouse. Safer, even, because they won’t be anywhere near the Everfree Forest!”

“Not to mention any of the crazy things that have happened in Ponyville the last two years,” mumbled Rarity.

“Or their Cutie Mark Crusades,” finished Applejack.

At that declaration the three fillies tried to look as innocent as possible to their respective relatives while those relatives were giving the stink-eye to the fillies! Spike, even though he wasn’t in their line-of-sight, still took a step to the side behind Twilight to partially hide from the irritated relatives. Unlike the Cutie Mark Crusaders, his sense of self-preservation was working just fine!

“And,” Twilight added soothingly, “If it’s anything like Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, the students are always under close supervision at all times with classes of only a dozen or so at a time and plenty of one-on-one sessions with trained experts. And if there are dangerous activities planned, I’m sure they have extra staff on hoof to protect the students and take special safety precautions.

“And it’s the opportunity of a lifetime! Just think of what they’ll learn about these humans and how to interact with other species.” She sighed and stared off into the distance with a wistful expression, her hooves twitched with the desire to stand and start trotting excitedly. “The World Almanac Harry showed me says the British Library had over ten million books five years ago. It would take one-hundred and fourteen years, one month, twenty-six days, and sixteen hours to read every book if I read ten books an hour!” Her gaze drifted down to look at the others, “and they’re adding tens of thousands more books every year!” She sighed deeply as she again stared blankly at a wall. Harry was certain she was about to start drooling.

It was clear to all that Twilight would have swapped places with Harry in an instant, if she thought she could get away with it.

Applejack and Rarity exchanged worried looks. Dragging Twilight from the Royal Library was hard enough when they visited Canterlot. If they were foolish enough to let her walk into this British Library, they might never get her back to Equestria!

“Twilight!” Spike said sharply.

She startled, then blushed. “Right.” The purple alicorn looked at Rarity, Scootaloo’s aunts, and Applejack. “So, if the school agrees, will you let the fillies go with Harry as Princess Celestia has requested?”

If there ever was a cue for the diabetes-inducing Cuteness of Doom look that the fillies had perfected, Harry thought that was it. The three fillies turned to their respective elders with their moist, wide-eyed faces, trembling lower lips, hopefully canted ears, with one hoof ever-so-slightly-lifted as if about to reach out, begging. Even that cold-hearted monster King Sombra would have caved to their cuteness.

Not that it was really needed, Harry thought, Princess Celestia asking them to do something was a guaranteed yes answer, no matter how much the mares might be reluctant to say so.

First to fall was Rarity, who huffed and sighed, looked over to Twilight, and reluctantly nodded. Then Scootaloo’s aunts gave in, with Lofty nudging Holiday and both giving a nod to Twilight. Applejack held out the longest, but seeing that the others had capitulated, she knew she couldn’t hold her sister back. She sighed, “Okay, Twilight. If the school lets the fillies in then I won’t stand in the way.”

The three fillies abandoned their posts and charged their relatives, giving them fierce hugs and declaring, “Thank you, thank you, you won’t regret it, I promise!” all while hoof-pumping their fore-legs behind their relatives’ backs.

After putting her sister down, Rarity, said, “What next, Twilight?”

Twilight whipped her checklist out of her saddlebags — not that she needed to see it, she had, after all, memorized it as she wrote it — and said, “Let’s see . . . that’s done, that’s done, that’s done . . . ,” She checked off over two dozen items. “Okay, now we need to check-in with the Guard at the portal. They should have the gold and gems we’ll need to exchange for bits on the other side, pounds, they call them.

“The overall plan is to find a lawyer, uh, a solicitor Harry says, who can then help us exchange our gold and gems. With her help we need to buy up as much property around the portal on their side as possible. That will also give us housing and a buffer zone.

“Because we want to keep this as quiet as possible until we are officially established as an embassy and can announce ourselves to the world, we’ll use one of the homes we purchase as our official residence and not mention that we are from another dimension. We’ll pretend we are from somewhere else in their world and only recently moved to Little Whinging — although we’ll have to tell the solicitor the truth. We’ll probably have to bring her through the portal to convince her we’re not crazy.

“Once we have a house, Harry and the fillies will move in and we’ll send the owl with Harry’s answer. While we wait for a reply, Harry can show us what he knows about his world and we can assist Prince Blueblood in establishing an official embassy.

“Any questions?”

“Where is this school?” asked Holiday.

“That’s one of the questions we’ll have to ask in the letter Harry sends, as well as where do we purchase the items mentioned in their letter, how we get to the school, and where we need to live for them to easily go to and from the school.”

“Sounds good,” declared Rainbow Dash, “Let’s get going!” she darted out the balcony window in a rainbow-coloured blur. A moment later, she coasted back in. “Uh, where’re we going first?”

The walk to the Guard Post was uneventful. Twilight told Holiday and Lofty, “If you want, you can visit Earth later, after we’ve secured a hoof-hold. Today, we’ll just be popping in and out as the guards secure the area around the portal. And practice walking in our new forms. Nothing very exciting.”

Scootaloo’s two aunts appeared grateful for a chance to beg off going with them. They were not explorers, after all. And with the guards and the Mane Six along, their charge, Scootaloo, would be quite safe. They separated from the group as they reached the edge of Ponyville. “We’ll see you tonight, right, Scootaloo?” Scootaloo nodded to her aunts and gave them a brief wave.

The plan was that they were exploring only during the days until they had a house on the other side. Then they would move there for a short while before returning after getting their school supplies. Assuming the school agreed to the fillies attending, that is.

The former simple guard post was a beehive of activity. A mass of earth ponies and unicorns were working at improving the trail separating Sweet Apple Acres from the Everfree, turning it into a real paved road such as one would find in Canterlot. Another group on the other side of the post was establishing a runway for the pegasi-drawn chariots bringing building materials and more workers that were still landing wherever they could find room. Two other groups were on opposite sides of Harry’s trail into the Everfree, removing the trees to make an opening at least two hundred celestials wide in its place. A steady stream of ponies were going into the forest while an equally steady stream brought out downed trees and other debris.

Meanwhile dozens of armoured pegasi were flying overhead and armoured unicorns and earth ponies were patrolling the perimeter of the forest.

Even Twilight seemed taken aback at the scale of the activity.

As they approached, a Guard supervising one of the road crews noticed them and came over immediately. “Good morning, Princess Twilight Sparkle, I am Major Smoky,” she said. She eyed the colt, fillies, and mares. “We’ve been expecting you. Right this way, please.”

She turned and led them over to the Guard Post and then inside. “Lieutenant Colonel Shining Charge, Ma’am! Princess Twilight Sparkle and her companions are here.”

A large table dominated the main room. The pegasus Guard standing behind table looked up from the papers piled on it and nodded. “Dismissed,” she said, returning the other’s salute before turning her attention to Twilight. “Have you read the alien contact protocols book, your Highness?” she asked.

“Yes, last night,” Twilight said, “I’ve prepared a checklist . . . ,” which she then spent the next fifteen minutes explaining to the poor Lieutenant Colonel.

“Excellent,” said the Royal Guard, narrowly getting a word in edgewise as the alicorn stopped to take a breath. “We haven’t breeched the portal yet. Word that you’ve already explored a bit yesterday has the scouts waiting for your feedback before proceeding. How serious an issue is it for shoes?”

Startled at the change of subject, Twilight said, “Very serious. Even though we only went a few hundred paces in the forest there, the skin on the back side of our pastern and cannon bones was very scratched up and sore by the time we returned.”

Harry spoke up. “Shoes are a requirement. While not having shoes isn’t a safety issue once you leave the forest, not wearing shoes will get your scouts immediately noticed. There are even some businesses where they will be refused entry if they aren’t wearing shoes.” The Lieutenant Colonel looked at Harry a moment, then nodded.

She looked up at Twilight. “We’ll need you to conduct our scouts across so they can take measurements to make these shoes. We’ve had seamstresses working overnight making clothes using that magazine you provided as a guide.”

Harry wasn’t used to adults actually listening to him, especially an adult he did not know. On the other hand, the ponies were different from people. He decided to try again, “Um, that might actually be a problem.”

The Lieutenant Colonel looked at Harry, “Why?”

“Well,” Harry said hesitantly, “That magazine is a fancy fashion magazine and most of the clothes in it are things regular people wouldn’t wear, only rich people.” He had seen his aunt spend hours wishing she could purchase this or that in it, but they didn’t have the pounds to spare to do it. He paused a second, trying to think of how to put it — the ponies didn’t normally wear clothes. “It’s like, can you imagine taking Canterlot nobles in full Grand Galloping Gala dress and dropping them into a small town and telling them to blend in? How fast would the locals notice them?”

The Lieutenant Colonel leaned back and sat down. “Hmm. Yes, I see your point.” She turned to a Guard pony standing by the door. “Get the scouts here, and the clothes they have for the other side.” She turned back to Harry. “I’ll need you to take a look and tell me how much we have to redo.” He looked up at Twilight. “We’ll only get one chance to do this right. I don’t want to ruin it on something as simple as the wrong tie!”

Harry tuned out the discussion that followed as Twilight informed the Lieutenant Colonel of how she thought the operation should be conducted once they reached the other side. He had heard all this the night before. Instead, he walked to the table and propped himself up against it so he could see if there was anything interesting. Covering most of the table was a map. From the markings, even though they were upside down, he could tell that it was a map of the area around here. As he studied the map the fillies joined him on either side.

He was stunned at the plans. They planned to enclose the portal and the path to it in a huge wall! Inside that wall, the portal and tree were in the middle of a large space with a small drop-off around it masking several small enclosures connected by tunnels. After a moment of staring, he realized that the dotted lines leading from those enclosures to the portal were labelled “fields of fire.” They were planning for the possibility that an attacking force might come through the portal and had prepared a military response for it! Harry wasn’t too sure how effective that would be in the face of Earth’s modern firearms.

On the larger external wall were walkways and fortified towers to keep the Everfree forest denizens at bay. Harry noted they were designed as attack platforms towards the portal, as well, although that aspect was carefully hidden behind walls marked facades.

Partway down the path, and separating the portal from the path to the former Guard Post, was a thick wall dozens of celestials thick. It had a gate at each end of the path through it. Lining both sides of the wall and the gap in-between were offensive military platforms. If someone came through the portal, and somehow subdued the military out there, they would still have to go through the one gate and fight off the new Guards behind their fortified emplacements while trying to make it through the second gate. And the same would be true if someone on this side tried to force their way to the portal.

Any offensive force that tried to attack through the portal would take heavy losses, even with modern equipment, Harry realized. And that wasn’t even taking into account how effective magic was on this side.

Outside those gates, but still between the walls keeping the forest at bay, were several buildings: two military barracks, a “processing” building, an administration building, two apartment buildings, a hotel, and an exercise field. All the buildings were connected underground, so if one building started to fall into enemy hands, the occupants could be evacuated to another. He noted that there were at least two tunnels that led into the forest outside the walls as last-ditch, heavily-fortified escape routes.

It was a massive operation, and even with the numbers of workers they had seen so far it would take weeks of hard work to complete.

۸-_-۸

19 — The Bare Necessities

Author's Note

YEAH!
Made it to Featured Stories (Jun. 25, 2018)!

— Regarding underwear, what 11-year-old boy would know how to explain a bra to someone who has never seen or needed one? Or why women wear them? (and how many 11-year-old’s have ever even heard of the pencil-test?)

19 — The Bare Necessities

Ponies began filing into the Lieutenant Colonel’s office at the guard-post, interrupting Harry’s study of the plans.

The Lieutenant Colonel explained the issue at hoof. “So, pull out your clothes and we’ll see what Harry Potter has to say about them,” she concluded.

Harry immediately noticed that they were all unicorns. It kind of made sense. Pegasi couldn’t fly without their wings, and earth ponies, while exceptionally strong, would still be at a disadvantage. At least unicorns could still cast magic, even if it was weaker than normal, as Twilight had discovered with the few test spells she had cast yesterday.

Two of the ten ponies had business suits that were acceptable. Unfortunately, the scouts who had them were mares and the suits were not appropriate for them. They swapped with two of the stallions. Three of the clothing sets would be good for fancy dress dinner parties in Cambridge, but completely out of place in Little Whinging. Two were evening suits and, again, unsuitable for everyday wear in Little Whinging. One set was beachwear. The final dress was perfect for a casual upper-middle class woman — what Petunia would have considered appropriate for normal house-wife wear in public.

Fortunately, Rarity had brought along the issue of Vogue and Harry was able to quickly point out several acceptable combinations for casual or business casual in Little Whinging and most of London. Or at least, what he thought would be appropriate based on what he had overheard and seen his aunt gossiping about.

With Twilight’s help Rarity retrieved several bolts of cloth and her sewing supplies and they set off to the portal with several additional seamstresses. Any alterations would be made on the other side where she could actually see both the clothes, the pony-person they were to fit, and what she needed to tell the other seamstresses to do to accomplish that.

The area around the portal was even busier, if that was possible, than the path to it and at the Guard Post. There was already a large clearing around the portal tree and unicorns and earth ponies were removing tree stumps while the armoured and working pegasi flew cover overhead and trimmed branches from trees still standing. The beginnings of a wooden platform around the base of the tree was in place, protecting the roots while ensuring that rainwater reached the tree and kept it alive. Obviously, the pony forest experts were unsure of how the tree affected the portal, so they were not going to take any risks to its health.

Soldiers of all three tribes patrolled the perimeter.

Rarity, at first, spent her time on the preparation platform on Equestria’s side of the portal, fashioning sandals for the mares and altering their clothes. This last was especially important for the mares. The concept of breasts being up front and so . . . prominent . . . caught the mares by surprise. Rarity was thrilled at the prospect of fashioning clothes that took advantage of a feature normally completely ignored in pony society.

Harry was rather surprised at how . . . big . . . the variation was in that respect for the mares. Pinkie Pie was remarkably normal while Fluttershy, like Applejack, was surprisingly large. Rainbow Dash was the smallest of the group in that respect, but was by no means what people would call flat.

For the stallions, Rarity made sandals but put covers over them to make them look like shoes. As long as you didn’t actually look at them, they passed inspection. And, compared to the mares, their clothes were simple; a few alterations to make them fit better, remove some of the fancier details, and the four stallions were good to go.

This required a lot of back and forth traffic through the portal, though, because they were unsure if casting magic on the Earth side would attract attention. Fortunately, magic cast on items on the Equestrian side carried through to the Earth side.

One thing that Harry had forgotten to mention to the adults was that human hair colours were very bland by comparison — and Twilight hadn’t known any better. Fortunately, for the unicorn scouts this was not a problem as they used a simple colour change spell to make their hair either brown or black. Twilight took care of Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy. Rainbow Dash refused. Harry interrupted before the argument could get too loud, “Excuse, me? But there are some people who dye their hair various colours. While Rainbow Dash’s is unusual, it isn’t impossible. People will just think she’s rebelling against her parents or something. One person with a weird hair colour is not that unusual, but a whole group will attract a lot of attention.”

For some reason, Pinkie Pie’s spell failed after only a few minutes. They just had to hope it wouldn’t make them that much more noticeable.

Twilight did have a different question for Harry, “Where did those glasses come from?”

“Oh, I’ve always worn glasses. I can only clearly see things when they’re close.”

“But you can see just fine in Equestria!”

“Actually, I can see better in Equestria than I can here with glasses.”

Applejack bumped the alicorn before the new project could completely capture her attention, “Twilight, focus!”

“Oh!” Twilight blushed. “Of course.” She looked at Harry, “But we should have your eyes checked here when we have a chance, to make sure the prescription is accurate. We wouldn’t want to send you to Hogwarts with the wrong glasses. Not to mention getting those broken frames fixed.”

Harry and the fillies spent the rest of the day in the playpark showing the Mane Six and the scouts how to walk and maintain their balance. The scouts, it seemed, had been practicing walking on their hind legs for a year, now, and quickly adapted to their new forms. They found the playpark’s swings, slides, and climbing bars especially interesting and useful in practicing with their new hands and learning to keep their balance. Fortunately, no one noticed that none of the women or girls had ever heard of underwear, except in the vaguest of terms from Harry.

Harry was impressed with how quickly they were all adapting, much faster than the fillies had. Even the Mane Six seemed to cope well. Running without tripping over nothing might be a problem for them for a while, but he didn’t expect them to try to outrun any monsters or villains in this world any time soon. It would take a few more days of practice before they were comfortable with their new forms, but they were not so awkward as to draw undue attention.

The parents and children who saw them thought it was wonderful how those well-dressed parents still took the time to play with their children, pretending to clumsiness to let the kids win at the games they played walking and running around the park. A few parents even came over to compliment them on this, which the respective scouts graciously, but confusedly, accepted. Naturally, they did not correct the perceptions of those parents.

The scouts did mention to those parents that they were new to the area and looking to purchase homes. They asked if the parents knew of any that might be for sale, or whose owners were considering selling, as well as the location of any stores or other businesses that the parents could recommend.

Harry and the fillies were quite exhausted by the time sundown approached and they headed back through the portal. Half the scouts, in teams of two, started exploring Little Whinging and wandering up and down the streets to familiarize themselves with the location. The other half returned to the portal and set up a small perimeter around it to watch for predators or any curious humans who might stumble across them.

۸- ̰ -۸

Harry was amazed the next morning at seeing how much the soldiers had done. Apparently, the construction crews had worked through the night. Most of the trees at the edge of the road were gone and the foundations for the two Everfree Forest walls were well in progress. A crew was installing a tall wooden picket fence between the now-cleared frontage of the Everfree Forest and the paved road they were walking on. The former Guard building now had a sign adorning it, “Portal Check-in,” and a gate beside it and across the path leading to the portal. Harry could see the construction crews laying the foundation for a much larger building to sit astride the path and over the gate.

The Guard at the gate ushered them inside where Lieutenant Colonel Shining Charge once again greeted them. “Good morning, Ladies. I trust you had a good night,” she said, looking as if she certainly had done so. Harry suspected she hadn’t slept at all considering all the work she was supervising. “Prince Blueblood should be here soon with the funds the Princesses have provided for you. My understanding is that you shall be attempting to retain the services of a lawyer to assist us in acquiring the land around the portal?”

“Yes,” said Twilight, “That’s right.”

Harry noticed that behind the Lieutenant Colonel and tacked to the wall was the map from yesterday. It now had various lines in different colours drawn on it. The colours probably indicated the current state of progress on those sections.

A Guard came trotting in. “Sir,” he said, saluting, “Prince Blueblood’s chariot has been sighted and he should be here in a moment.” The Lieutenant Colonel returned the salute and the Guard trotted back out.

Harry discovered a new map as he propped himself against the table. It was of Little Whinging, or at least the streets nearest the portal. The unicorn scouts must have drawn it. He quickly located Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent on either side of Privet Drive. His eyes were drawn to Number Four. The Dursleys were probably still there.

“Is that it?” asked Apple Bloom, looking between him and where he was staring.

“Huh?” he said, looking over at her. Scootaloo was beside her and Sweetie Belle was on his other side.

“Your relatives. The ones you never talk about. Is that where they live?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re shivering.”

He hadn’t noticed, but he was. Red-faced in embarrassment at that, he looked back at the map. “Yes,” he whispered. “That one. Number Four.” He waved his hoof vaguely at the map.

The three fillies carefully examined the map, then looked at each other and nodded.

He sighed. “Look, girls, don’t go there. Don’t do anything. They don’t deserve your attention. The worst thing you can do to them is ignore them, so, just, ignore them.” He looked at the small outline of a building with a number four on it. “Yeah. Ignore them.”

His desire for revenge was still there, but if he never saw them again, it would be too soon. And if he did see them? Well, he had learned quite few magical tricks in Equestria. Some, he knew, Twilight would disapprove of him knowing, much less using.

She kept saying he was a good colt. He wasn’t so sure.

۸-ꞈ-۸

The former narrow path leading from the guard-post to the portal was now a level graded track of packed sand easily wide enough for the ten ponies to walk side-by-side down it. There were clear signs that the raw dirt bordering it on both sides was seeded with grass — small green shoots poked up already, earth-pony magic at work “quickening” plant growth.

Construction crews at several places along the path were installing paving stones on the packed sand. The path would be paved by evening, based on the speed at which they were working. Other crews were working on the walls, grounds, and remaining trees. He could also see the bunkers and trenches they were digging for concealed attack positions bordering the path.

Harry could tell that by the time they were finished the entire area between the walls would look like a carefully groomed park, without a sign that anypony on the path would be under constant surveillance. Its history as a part of the dangerous wild Everfree Forest would be just that, history. Instead, it would have a completely different danger — but only to foes of Equestria.

A series of stakes driven into the ground across the path delineated the foundations for the walls separating the immediate portal area from the rest of the construction. There was a second checkpoint there. Harry could see that the ground around the portal had been contoured so that the tree was centred in a wide, raised area at least two hundred paces, about thirty celestials, in diameter. Grass already poked up on it.

A four-pony wide wooden deck with a waist-high railing spiralled once around the portal. Anypony approaching the portal had to walk completely around the tree, making their presence obvious to the Guards watching it. Similarly, anyone leaving would be clearly visible to all the Guards. Or would immediately attract their attention by repeatedly leaping or flying over the railing. Moreover, the wood decking would make sneaking impossible for earth-ponies and most unicorns by amplifying the noise of their hoof-steps. Flying pegasi would give themselves away with their wing noise.

The trees in the area around the portal had been considerably thinned to improve the Guards’ lines of sight. Enough remained to project the ambience of a park instead of a killing field — the Guard’s bunkers would be unnoticeable as slight ripples and rock outcroppings. At regular intervals, except where interrupted by still-standing trees, were very high poles as tall as the trees themselves. Harry wondered what they were for.

Construction ponies were still working on the unfinished spiralling deck leading to the portal.

To one side of the tree at the top of the spiral was a wooden preparation platform that gave the group room to stop and loosely drape their dresses and other clothes about themselves. Then, one at a time, the guards stepped through, followed by the Mane Six, Harry, and finally the fillies.

The other side of the portal was a surprise. Harry stumbled slightly at the sudden change in his balance, and grabbed the handrail that was right there. He kept walking, running his hand along the rail more for reassurance than actual support, as he looked around. He was in a large tent. On this side, too, a wooden deck to protect the tree’s roots had been built. In front of him were the mares, now women, arranging their clothes to a better fit, some in highly inappropriate manners considering the stallions, men, standing around them adjusting their clothes for a better fit.

Some of the women were removing everything and starting over, not just adjusting the belts and shoulder straps. All of the guards were removing the straps from the large soft-cases they had worn as saddlebags in Equestria’s side of the portal. They would now carry them by hand. By design, they looked like standard briefcases but with softer corners.

Originally, the Mane Six had wanted to bring their formal saddlebags. Harry had been able to convince them that most adults in England did not wear rucksacks, and instead they carried briefcases. Harry knew there would be more than a little grumbling over having to use their hands for such a mundane chore. Especially with Applejack carrying the two briefcases that held the gold and gems. Those things were heavy! Not that Applejack seemed to notice.

Harry moved off the short path and pulled his trousers up to fit properly, tucking his shirttail into place. He’d carried his mostly empty rucksack in his mouth. He spit out the strap and slung it over his shoulder. He watched the fillies come through the portal. They were quite used to walking erect now and the transition only caused them a short stumble, just as it had Harry, and none of them fell. They had little to change with their sundresses except to shake their shoulders and make sure to place the straps in positions that were more comfortable.

Prince Blueblood, surprising Harry, seemed to be coping well. Based on what little he had overheard, Blueblood was a bit of a blighter — rude, insufferable, insulting, and obnoxious were only some of the things Harry had overheard the mares call him over the last year. The unicorn had a bored and exasperated expression as Rarity fussed over him — as if she were at fault that the clothes didn’t perfectly fit after coming through the portal.

Because he was to be the Ambassador, he had the fanciest of the clothes — a full suit made of the finest cloth available in Equestria. The mares’ dresses were almost as formal. Their guards were neatly dressed, but more casual.

The problem came when he tried to walk. It wasn’t that he had any great difficulty; it was just that he walked as if something was wrong with his legs — stiff and slightly uncoordinated, just like the scouts and the Mane Six had started out yesterday. It detracted from the dignified image they wanted him to project. Unfortunately, they didn’t have seven or eight hours to run him through the drills the scouts and mares had used to acclimate themselves to their new mode of walking.

Harry thought a moment. “Twilight?” he said. “I think Prince Blueblood needs a cane. It’ll help him walk and look more dignified.”

“A cane?”

“Yeah. A piece of wood that reaches just above his waist. There’s a knob or handle on top that he holds and he uses it to keep his balance and to lean on if he needs the support.”

At Twilight’s request, a scout brought in a branch. With a little trial and error, and several trips through the portal to use her magic, Twilight changed it to end up with a smooth, polished piece of wood with an angled handle at the top. The tip had a small piece of rubber to provide traction on slick surfaces. Blueblood had insisted she decorate the handle with an image of Celestia on one side and Luna on the other.

Prince Blueblood quickly adapted to the cane. “Why this wasn’t arranged before-hoof, I don’t know,” he glared at Twilight as if it were her fault. When she looked down flushing slightly, he surreptitiously winked at Harry and nodded.

Outside the tent was another shock. While all the trees around the portal remained, a certain amount of trimming had taken place, as well as the ground contoured. It all looked natural, thanks to the skills of the earth-ponies, but was radically changed from what Harry and the fillies had come to know. The Guards had carefully trimmed the surrounding trees to allow more light to reach the ground. The additional light explained the presence of the soft carpet of grass that had replaced the forest debris normally scattered around the portal tree.

Staring around carefully as he waited for everypony else to get ready, he spotted what could only be a defensive position a few yards away. Two trees were close together and a large tree had apparently “fallen” so that it formed a barrier at an angle through the trees at about waist high. It ran over fifty feet behind the tent. Below the trunk was a mound of dirt filling the gap between it and the forest floor.

It was only when a Guard moved that Harry realized he was leaning against the trunk. When Harry looked away and then back, he found it quite difficult to find the Guard again, even though he knew where he was. He thought chameleon-magic must be in use. As he carefully looked around, he could see that “fallen” trees and fortuitous placements of large mounds blocked off access to the other side of the tree-portal. The only access to the portal was from the tent-side, and that was restricted to one direction.

A scout led the group to the nearby roadway separating Little Whinging from the playpark and woods. Considering most parents and children would be at the playpark and not watching the road, people were less likely to notice the group of Equestrians exiting the woods there.

Their trip to Little Whinging’s city centre was unremarkable. While they were more formally dressed than the residents were, the mid-morning meant most people were at work or off running errands. And because most unicorns, like earth-ponies, walked virtually everywhere they went, their walk was brisk and easy. The walk also allowed Prince Blueblood to adjust a bit to his cane.

They did have to drag Twilight away from her analysis of the tarmac that was a modern road instead of the cobblestones used in Equestria. Harry finally stopped the flood of questions on where the material came from, how it was treated, how they managed to make it so smooth, and so forth, by saying, “Twilight! There are entire books on the subject!” The rest of the walk was quiet except for occasional exclamations at the cars and lorries they saw, which all the Equestrians watched carefully whenever one went by. Harry was sure their intent study of each made the drivers a bit uncomfortable.

City centre was a bit of a lark, consisting of a single street of a dozen or so businesses, much like Ponyville. There was a Waitrose supermarket and some smaller shops, several restaurants, banks, charity shops, a post office, a number of estate agents, solicitors, betting shops, an insurance broker, and two public houses. The architecture was completely different from what the Equestrians were used to, not to mention the constant flow of lorries and cars. The zebra crossing was another innovation to them — the traffic in Canterlot and the other cities wasn’t zooming along at high-speed as the cars and lorries seemed to be doing — that is, the normal limited in-town cruising speeds for cars and lorries was the equivalent of a full-fledged run by most ponies.

It took a concerted effort by Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity to keep both Twilight and Pinkie Pie out of the various shops they passed. Blueblood rolled his eyes, but kept quiet. He was above that sort of behaviour. His job was to be aristocratic. He could do that much more easily than Twilight, who acted more like the over-enthusiastic bookworm than the near-goddess alicorn that she was.

The first solicitor they found specialized in personal injuries and accidents, so they quickly left. The second specialized in employment law and wills. The third they found by accident. Harry happened to glance up a side street as they walked along High Street looking for the next solicitor’s sign. The sign he saw read “Conveyancing Services, Yueshi & Fuxiao, Solicitors.” Which sounded like exactly what they wanted.

۸- ̬ -۸

20 — Pocket Money

Solicitor Lin Yueshi, Esquire, looked at the odd group in his office. His gaze lingered on Pinkie Pie’s very pink hair and Rainbow Dash’s spread of colours. Their clothes appeared to make them upper-middle class. Applejack’s undersized Stetson hat seemed to throw him off a bit. He barely noticed Apple Bloom’s pink bow.

“So,” he said softly, “You wish me to procure on your behalf as many properties as possible, centred on the playpark at the end of Magnolia Road?” He cut his eyes to the open briefcases on his desk, one with gold ingots and the other with gems. “After converting these items to pounds because you have no bank accounts or other funds available?”

Twilight nodded happily, “Precisely!”

He stared at them a moment longer, then tilted his head from side to side, peering at their clothes and out the two windows in his corner office. “Alright,” he finally said, “Where’s the camera?”

The Equestrians exchanged puzzled glances — except Pinkie Pie. She suddenly held up a camera. “Right here,” she said, as a brilliant purple flash filled the room.

“Gah! Pinkie!” Twilight said severely, amid the grumbling of the others. Prince Blueblood gave her an intense disapproving glare.

Pinkie ignored them, of course, and handed the solicitor the photograph ejected from her camera.

Harry put his hand over his eyes. The camera, while normal for Equestria, looked like something out of a 1930’s film. By Earth standards, it was an antique. Except it delivered instant pictures.

Blinking at the spots that now edged his vision, just as they did for the Equestrians, the solicitor said, “I mean the telly, for the prank show you’re filming.” He glanced at the picture in his hand and dropped it on the desktop. He gestured at the briefcases, “There’s no way anyone would walk around with a briefcase of gold. It’s far too heavy for a man, much less a woman, to casually carry. The top layer is probably lead with gold paint and everything below it is plastic. And those gems are probably all glass.” He looked intently at Twilight. “No one in their right mind walks around with several million pounds in gems without a massive security detail.”

Prince Blueblood stiffened, as he looked down his nose at the solicitor. “I assure you that both the gold and the gems are genuine! Both came directly from the Castle Vaults.” His refined and cultured accent marked him as definitely an aristocrat. He leaned over and slammed the briefcases’ lids closed. “Take us to a jeweller! That will prove it!” He glanced at Twilight who was nodding in agreement.

Lin studied him carefully for a moment. The man, introduced simply as Blue Blood, had been looking down his nose at Lin during the entire meeting, saying nothing, but his bearing was very much that of an aristocrat. And Harry knew that while it was traditional in British and Chinese families for the men to be in charge, it was clear that Twilight was calling the shots in spite of her obvious youth. The fact that Blueblood had glanced at her after his announcement and checked for her approval proved it, if anyone was watching. Which the solicitor was.

“Alright, let’s do that.” He reached over, closed the lid, and secured it with the odd buckle it used. He grabbed the handle of the briefcase with the gold ingots. Harry could see that the solicitor thought Twilight was bluffing. The man stared, stunned, when he could barely get the briefcase to stand on end.

Applejack tsked, and took the briefcase from him, lifting it with only a minor strain. Then she closed the other briefcase and picked it up. Pinkie was in a corner of the office doing arm-bends with a barbell with weights that had the numbers “40” stamped on them. Seeing that Lin was staring at her, she dropped them to the floor with a resounding — wham! — that indicated the numbers were not fake.

He gave the other Equestrians an outraged look, then turned back to Pinkie Pie. His lips were tight and Harry could see he was about to tear into Pinkie for damaging his office floor. What he saw, though, was nothing except Pinkie Pie smiling innocently at him — no barbells, no damaged floor. He stared, frowning for a moment at where the barbell had hit the floor. With a puzzled look he stepped around his desk and led them into the reception room. “Judy, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

۸- ̬ -۸

The jeweller picked up the phone and dialled. “Good morning, Charles, what’s the current rate for gold? And the discount? Thanks. I’ll explain later.” He hung up the phone and looked up at his friend.

The Equestrians stared. The thought that information was so easily acquired through such a small device was overwhelming. It was one thing to hear about such a device, and another to see it in action. In addition, he had said he was calling an associate in London, a distance that they knew was over a day’s round-trip away for non-pegasi in Equestria. And even the fastest Pegasus — excluding Rainbow Dash, of course — would take at least an hour, if not two, to make that same round-trip. The convenience of such quick communications, as well as the business and military aspects of it in getting things done, was not lost on any of them.

“I’m not an assayer, Lin, but these,” the jeweller waved his hand at the dozen ingots on his counter and the briefcase beside them, “appear to be twenty-four carat gold. The current rate, with discount, is two hundred pounds a troy ounce. These ingots are one and a eighth ounces, an unusual size, so that makes them . . .” he turned to a calculator and punched the buttons, “two hundred twenty-five pounds each. And there are one thousand and sixty-six, bringing the total to two hundred forty thousand, seven hundred and fifty pounds.” He sighed and took off his glasses. He pulled out a cloth from behind the counter and started cleaning the lenses.

“I can’t buy them all, I simply don’t have the funding, but I’ll take ten of these for two thousand, two hundred and fifty pounds. The rest you’ll have to take to The Gold Bullion Company.” By including the discount rate, he protected himself in case the ingots were not as pure as he thought. Not to mention that he avoided any transportation costs that normally applied.

He looked over at the other briefcase. “These gems are of unusually high quality. And I estimate that you have over 20 million pounds worth in the briefcase, assuming they are all of the same quality as the ones I examined.”

He separated twenty diamonds from the handful of gems he had examined. “I can give you twenty thousand pounds for these. The rest you’ll have to take to G. F. Williams unless you want to tote them around and sell them individually.”

Twilight looked at Applejack. Applejack shrugged. She turned back to the stunned-looking solicitor. “That sounds reasonable to me,” she said. “We do need some immediate spending money, so what would be the best way to do this?”

Lin blinked slowly, thinking. “I think that we need two cheques, James. One for the gems and one for the ingots.” He turned back to Twilight. “We’ll cash the smaller cheque and open an account with the other.”

۸- ̬ -۸

Back in his office, Lin handed Twilight forty-three fifty-Pound notes. Before she could take the bundle, though, Pinkie popped up beside them and grabbed it. Smiling broadly she tucked it into her hair. Twilight rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything. The solicitor, on the other hand, stared at Pinkie, trying to figure out how she had done that.

“I will set up your business account with the other cheque later this morning. And this afternoon I’ll see about selling the gems and gold,” the solicitor said, still staring at Pinkie who was now wandering around the office and peering behind the pictures on the wall. “With luck, I’ll have that all finished by supper and can start on acquiring the properties you desire.”

“Good,” said Twilight. “We need a place to live immediately, so I thought we could offer the three houses closest to the playpark double their value if we can move in immediately. The owners must move out immediately, taking their personal possessions, of course, but leaving the furniture. They have to move out by Sunday evening. We’ll pay all expenses, of course, until they find a new home.”

Lin stared at her. “I’m not sure we can process the sale that fast. And I’m not sure we’ll find any takers, either. Not on such short notice.”

She shrugged, “Then offer triple to the first one to agree. You can go to quadruple if you feel it’s necessary. We need a house to occupy on Monday! Getting the paperwork isn’t nearly as important a rush, as long as we are physically in the house on Monday.”

“Alright,” he said. “If I can get the gems processed fast enough, I’ll offer the owners the extra amount in cash.”

“Excellent!” Twilight wriggled happily in place. “Now for the next part.” She nodded at the aristocrat beside her. “Prince Blueblood is the ambassador for our home country, Equestria, to the United Kingdom. We need you to tell us how we can establish diplomatic relations.” She smiled broadly.

He stared at her dumfounded. “Prince? Ambassador?” He turned his stare to the Blueblood. He sat down in his chair behind his desk and just stared blankly at the wall behind them.

After a moment’s silence, “Uh, Twilight? I think ya broke him,” said Applejack

Pinkie giggled and the fillies and Harry exchanged amused looks. Pinkie held up a paper bag and twisted closed the opening. Then she blew into the bag and made it bulge. She held it in one hand while getting ready to pop the bag with her other hand.

The solicitor shook his head and called out the open office door. “Judy? Come here a moment.”

Pinkie gave him a disappointed look and dropped the paper bag.

“Yes, sir?” came the quick answer as the brunette stepped into the office.

He pointed at the ingot-laden briefcase beside Applejack. “Take that briefcase to The Gold Bullion Company in London. Do not let it out of your sight. It has one thousand and fifty-six twenty-four-carat gold ingots. Do not leave without a cheque or verified deposit. The current rate with discount is two hundred pounds per troy ounce. The ingots are one and one-eighth ounces each. You can expect approximately two hundred thirty-seven thousand, six hundred pounds. If it is less than that by two thousand or more, call me. Have them wire transfer it to this account, if possible.” He quickly copied the information from the bank form and gave it to her.

“And call Midland Security, have them send an armoured lorry for you as soon as possible, with two extra guards as an escort. Offer a bonus if they get here before ten.”

He turned back to Twilight. “In the interests of speed, I’ll transfer the funds for the gems to our corporate account, here, instead of your new account, as Judy will with the ingots. Later, I’ll transfer the remaining gem money over. That way we don’t have to worry about someone at the bank slowing things down because of such rapid activity in a new account.”

She and Blueblood nodded their agreement.

Eyes wide, the secretary just nodded as she took the paper. She walked over to Applejack, reached for the briefcase, and then failed to lift it even an inch. It did wobble slightly as she leaned back down against it in reaction to its failure to move.

“Have the guards move it for you, Judy.”

Numbly, she said, “Yes, sir,” staring in surprise at the immovable object.

Applejack chuckled. “Here, let meh move it to by the door.” With only a little strain, she picked up the briefcase and set it in the reception area by the door, and out of their immediate way.

The secretary stared, amazed. “Got a bit of muscle to her, doesn’t she?” Judy said in a low voice.

Harry laughed, “You should see her hauling a wagon-load of apples by herself! Makes it look like she’s pulling a kid’s wagon.”

The solicitor and the secretary turned and stared at Harry in bewildered disbelief. Why would a woman be pulling a wagon by herself?

“That’s my sister!” said Apple Bloom proudly as she picked up the briefcase of gems with both hands, struggling, and moved it opposite to the ingots.

Lin stared at the girl. He knew how heavy that case was. He’d tried to move it on James’ counter and it had barely budged. Harry knew it had to weigh at least as much as the little filly did, which, if he hadn’t known her earth-pony strength, would have stunned him, too.

The secretary stepped back to her desk and started dialling the security company. When she was done with that call, she would call the bullion company and warn them she was on her way with a significant amount of gold to exchange.

The solicitor shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. He spoke slowly, “First, I will have to conduct a bit of research into that field. Even with my associate, Mr. Zhao Fuxiao, doing the conveyances, it will take several days. And I have current clients that I cannot put off.”

Twilight exchanged looks with Blueblood. He raised an eyebrow. She shrugged. She turned back to Lin. “The property is of higher priority right now, so that will have to do.”

He paused, then said, “I’ll also need to see your bona fides. I’ve never heard of this country of yours . . . Equestria? And I wonder why you can’t do money transfers from your banks to ours instead of dealing with gold and gems. Not that it really matters if you prefer to do business this way instead.”

“That’s a bit of a story. I think we’ll need to show you before you’ll believe us. It’s not far, I assure you.”

“Alright,” Lin said, standing up, “Give me a moment to retrieve my car and I’ll follow yours.”

Twilight looked at him, puzzled. “We don’t have a car. We walked.”

The solicitor stared at her. “If James hadn’t assured me the ingots and gems were real, I’d think you were trying to prank me.”

Prince Blueblood spoke up. “I believe we should first get our financial arrangements in order,” he said fussily. “Once those are settled, and the initial houses purchased, we can turn our attention to establishing an embassy. Today, Mr. Yueshi can get the gems appraised and sold. Tomorrow, he can come to the playpark at the end of Magnolia Road and we can establish our bona fides, as he put it.”

“Excellent suggestion, Blueblood! Is that acceptable, Mr. Yueshi?” asked Twilight.

He nodded.

Harry suspected that with the amount of pounds the Equestrians were handing around the solicitor, he could easily put up with their eccentricities. And even if they were pranking him, the four gold ingots they had given him would more than pay for his time today and tomorrow.

“Judy,” he said, “Call Midland back and tell them to send two armoured lorries, I need to make a trip to G. F. Williams in London with this other briefcase.”

The Equestrians spent the rest of the morning exploring Little Whinging’s businesses — including an 11:20 AM viewing of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves in the Little Whinging Cinemas. Thelma and Louise followed it at 2:05 PM.

Cultural differences aside, to say they were stunned at the experience was an understatement. They had missed lunch, but had gorged themselves on popcorn, candy, and sodas, instead.

Dinner was back in Equestria at Apple Bloom’s home.

“Hey, Sweetie Belle?” Harry said after they had helped clear the table and do the dishes, “Do you know that gem finding spell your sister uses?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was thinking, maybe we could dig up a few gems before it gets dark? You heard how much the jeweller said the briefcase was worth. I thought that maybe we could dig up a dozen or so and trade them in for spending money of our own. We’d probably only get a hundred bits or so each to last all year at the school, but it’d be our bits to spend on what we want!”

“Oooo! That’s a great idea! Ice cream whenever we want. Yes!” Scootaloo pumped her foreleg in anticipation.

It wasn’t that simple, unfortunately. Wielding a shovel with your mouth was hard! And while Harry could levitate a shovel, slamming it into the ground was another story entirely. Even using his magic just to hold the shovel steady was a trial — he’d bashed himself in the face more than once when the shovel wobbled as he jumped his fore-hooves on the shovel’s spade.

Two hours of spell casting and digging later, they had fifteen small gems barely as big as the ones the Equestrians had given the solicitor to sell.

“Well, this is disappointing,” said Apple Bloom. “Jest a bunch of small gems.”

“Eh.” Said Scootaloo. “If they’re as nice as the others from the Royal Vault, we’ll still get a couple of hundred or so bits for all of them!”

“I’d take even fifty bits,” Harry said. “It’s better than nothing!” He had never had any money he could call his own.

Sweetie Belle sighed, “Guess we should head on home, then, it’s getting dark.” She started walking back towards Sweet Apple Acres. Just as they reached the edge of the field they had been scanning, Harry said, “Hey, just for luck, how about one more time?” The unicorn filly sighed, but closed her eyes and built the spell in her mind before releasing it and looking around for any tail-tell glows. To her amazement, she saw a very bright spot just barely into the treeline beside her. “Hey, look!” called Apple Bloom, pointing at another spot behind Sweetie Belle that was just as bright.

Based on how bright they were, the four ponies figured they had found two huge groups of gems! A few minutes of digging later, they had two large rocks sitting in front of them. “Those don’t look like gems to me,” Scootaloo said, discouraged.

Sweetie Belle snorted. “Give ‘em a good stomp, Apple Bloom!"

Shrugging, Apple Bloom reared up and slammed her hooves on the larger of the two. There was a loud CRACK, and the stone fractured. A second slam of her hoof, and it shattered to reveal four purple gems, each as large as one of their hooves!

Sweetie Belle laughed. “Rarity is always telling me about finding bunches of gems inside hollow rocks. Sometimes it’s lots of little gems, which she prefers, sometimes it isn’t.”

A repeat performance on the smaller rock yielded three large red gems. That gave them a total of seven large red/purple gems and fifteen small gems.The seven big ones were almost as big as their hooves.

With the seven big ones in hoof, they were happy with their haul. Harry was especially happy about not having to ask Twilight for spending bits.

After a bath in the big tub in the barn — and miracle of miracles, no tree sap was involved — they were ready for a sleepover in Apple Bloom’s room.

۸- ̬ -۸

As planned, Lin showed up at eight in the morning at the park. Harry and the fillies were playing on the climbing bars where it seemed the fillies were deliberately trying to put Harry in the position of looking up their dresses. The fact that they hadn’t underwear to wear, yet, made the situation all that more embarrassing for him.

As ponies, fillies and mares didn’t seem to care about keeping their privates covered at all times with their tails — it was the colts and stallions who got all flustered and upset should their sheaths fail to hide their privates adequately. Some mares, and some fillies, tried to get those failures to take place as often as possible, enjoying both the stallion’s discomfort and the thrill at seeing what normally was carefully hidden. And laughing at the stallions’ failure to control themselves.

In Equestria, Harry had gotten used to seeing things like that and usually ignored it as much as his filly friends did. If he accidentally saw the fillies’ privates, so what? Just so long as he kept himself under control and in-sheath, things were fine. And the fillies were his friends, so they didn’t play such mean games.

It was different, for some reason, now that they were girls. He found himself blushing and looking away. Which they found funny. And led them to create more of those situations. In some ways, it would have been better if they had not been wearing clothes at all!

Anyway, he noticed Twilight walking over to meet the solicitor, followed by two transformed guards and Applejack. Rarity had stayed back in Equestria making notes on the fashions she had seen the day before. Dash was “. . . stretching my wings,” as she put it — she had really hated not flying yesterday. Pinkie was baking and Fluttershy was, well, being Fluttershy — hiding with her animal friends.

“Hey, fillies, he’s here,” Harry said.

They dropped back to the ground and the herd started walking over to intercept the adults. They were, after all, the most expert at using the portal. And Harry, being a person from Earth, would have the best chance of keeping the man calm when he first saw Equestria.

“I sold the gems to G. F. Williams, provisionally, for thirty million pounds, the exact amount will depend upon the results of the gems’ actual valuations. Considering it was Friday afternoon, they expected to complete the valuations by Tuesday. They did ask me where these gems originated. I told them that my client had acquired them over many years and was now liquidating their holdings. They did advance me a bank cheque for one million pounds, which I added to your business account at Barclay’s. I kept out five hundred thousand for conveyances this weekend.

“And I secured your first property at Eleven Magnolia Road yesterday evening . . . .”

۸- ̬ -۸

21 — An Unexpected Visitor

The woman who opened the door was the stereotypical English old lady: a tall, thin woman of between sixty-five and seventy years of age. She had white snowy hair, pale blue eyes, and a pinkish wrinkled face with a welcoming smile.

“Good evening,” the man at the door said, “I am Lin Yueshi, Esquire, a conveyance solicitor. Are you, per chance, Miss Marple?” He smiled as he held out his card.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Why, yes, I am.” She took the card and glanced at it briefly.

“Excellent! I have a client interested in purchasing this property. Might we discuss this?”

She looked him up and down, then glanced at his car parked at the street-side. “I am sorry, but I’m not interested in selling at this point in time.” She started to close her door.

“Excuse me, but there is one more thing,” he said, quietly, “my client is willing to pay you a premium of forty-three thousand pounds.”

She stopped and stared at him. “I am really not interested at the moment.”

“Cash. Immediately.”

She studied him a bit longer, then slowly opened her door wider.

“Thank you for your time,” he said stepping inside.

She backed up. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“Please make yourself at home,” she said warmly, waving her arm at the sitting-room.

“Thank you,” he said, again, as she bustled off into the kitchen. Sitting, he noticed the pair of knitting needles in placed on the end table with the basket of yarn skeins beside it. A partially completed . . . something . . . was at the end of the needles.

A few minutes later, Miss Marple returned with a tray and tea setting. Once they were settled, the solicitor started. “My client wishes a home beside the playpark,” he nodded his head in that direction, “and wishes to close the sale as quickly as possible. For that reason, I can offer you a premium of forty-three thousand pounds on top of the market price for a house in this neighbourhood — which should be about forty-three thousand pounds — or this house’s assessed value plus ten percent, whichever is higher. The premium will be paid upon signing of the sales contract.” He held out two stapled contracts.

She took them and gave each a quick read.

“The premium is offered on a separate contract to prevent the artificial inflation of housing prices in the neighbourhood,” he explained.

She sat down her tea on the end table, leaned back, and took a breath. “I will need to discuss this with my nephew, Raymond,” she said.

“And a solicitor,” he added, “I would suggest.”

She nodded. “It will probably take me a few days to decide.”

He smiled, “There is one more thing. If you sign the contract tonight, I can increase the premium to eighty-six thousand.”

She stared at him.

He shrugged, “My client wishes to expedite the sale as much as possible.” He paused, then added, “Why don’t you ring up your nephew and lawyer and have them come over? Any fees they might charge as consultants will be added to the sale price.”

“My nephew lives too far to come tonight.” She said, standing up and going over to the phone stand by the stairs.

“If the lawyer can come over, we can consult your nephew by phone, then,” he suggested.

Half an hour later, the solicitor, Henry James, the Third, put down the contracts. “It looks fairly straight forward to me, Miss Marple.” He smiled at the spinster. “And I’ve known Mr. Yueshi for several years, so this is on the up-and-up.”

The grey-haired lady nodded and went back to the phone to consult her nephew.

“Are we agreed, then?” said Henry, a few minutes later, looking at both Miss Marple and Lin. “Market value plus ten percent or forty-three thousand pounds, whichever is greater, and a premium of eighty-six thousand?”

At Miss Marple’s nod, Lin said, “There is one more thing. If you can move out before Sunday evening, taking your personal possessions and leaving non-heirloom furniture, I can increase the premium to one hundred thirty thousand pounds. My client will, of course, provide, at their expense, movers and storage for the things you cannot take with you immediately.”

Another half hour of discussions went by with no conclusions, until Lin said, “There is one more thing. My client will provide twenty thousand pounds for temporary housing until you are situated in your new home. All in cash.”

The other solicitor leaned back and said, “How and when do you intend to deliver the cash?” He arched an eyebrow in query.

“Excuse me,” said Lin, “I’ll be right back.” Two minutes later, he laid a second briefcase on the coffee table. He opened it, removed thirty bundles of fifty-pound notes, and put them in his briefcase. “One hundred fifty thousand in fifty-pound notes. Or, if you prefer,” he said, “I can give you a combination of pounds and check. With Mr. James assistance, I could even establish a trust fund to reduce your tax burden.”

They signed the contracts five minutes later.

“One more thing,” Lin said, handing the other solicitor two final forms. “These are non-disclosure agreements for both of you that you will not discuss anything we have talked about for a period of one year.” He smiled at the still-surprised woman. “You may tell your neighbours that you have been thinking of taking an extended six-month vacation, and your nephew suggested some friends to house-sit for you while you were gone. That explains your storing of personal effects. You could even take a six-month world cruise on the Queen Elizabeth II with the stipend and still have funds for temporary housing when you returned and began your search for a new domicile. You can say your rush is because you were on standby for a room on the QE II and only received confirmation today.”

He smiled. “According to my sources, they have several cabins available at the moment. My client can provide the funds to fly you to the QE II’s next port of call if you would like?”

۸- ̬ -۸

“. . . and today she will spend packing with the help of movers I have contracted. For an extra eight thousand pounds, she was more than willing to vacate today instead of tomorrow. I anticipate the house to be ready for you to move into tomorrow morning, afternoon at the latest.

“I expect the paper work will be completed and filed by Friday, next.

“I’ve retained the services of two interns to assist me in this. Today they will start canvassing the rest of the nearby houses. They are telling everyone they approach that part of the conveyance is a contract of non-disclosure both during and after the sale, for a period of one year. The penalty is the return of the fifty-percent premium and the six-month living stipend we are offering. That will help restrain gossip from inflating property values while we are working.”

“I believe we will be able to purchase most of the houses in the area you requested by the end of the week. The biggest single expenditure will be for the farm that surrounds the playpark, which I hope to close this afternoon.”

Twilight was grinning broadly. “Oh, thank you so much Mr. Yueshi! That’s wonderful news!”

His explanation had taken most of their walk to the portal. He stopped on seeing the tent. A guard stepped from behind a tree. “Princess Twilight Sparkle,” he said, saluting. “Everything is ready.”

Twilight sighed. “You don’t need to salute, I’ve told everyone that before.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

She rolled her eyes. The solicitor, meanwhile, was staring at the other three people he could see, all women, who were similarly saluting. Because he knew where to look, Harry could see two other guards who were almost invisible against the tree barricades on either side of the tent. They were keeping their eyes on the surroundings.

The solicitor turned to Twilight, frowning. First, Prince Blue Blood and now Princess Twilight Sparkle?

He cleared his throat. “Princess?”

Twilight blushed. She looked down at the ground for a moment, embarrassed, before looking up again. “As I told you yesterday, Mr. Yueshi, we aren’t from here. I mean that literally. We are from another world. I am one of four pony princesses in that world. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are co-rulers of Equestria. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza is the ruler of the Crystal Empire.” She looked down at the ground, embarrassed, “I only recently became a princess, just two months ago.” She sighed.

Mr. Yueshi was frowning as he listened. Harry was positive he didn’t believe her.

“Harry Potter,” she nodded at him and the fillies, “Discovered the portal between our worlds when he accidentally fell through it. It took us over a year to find it again. And then it was by another accident. Harry, however,” she glared at him, frowning, “knew exactly where it was and used it many times.”

The solicitor looked at Harry and the fillies, “I think I would have heard about a strange child being found in the forest,” he said dubiously.

Twilight smiled, “Oh, no, Mr. Yueshi, you have it backwards. Harry fell from this world into ours.”

He stared. “Now, I know that’s not right. A child disappearing from Little Whinging would have made the front page of the newspapers. Not to mention constables would have been all over the town. I couldn’t have missed that!” He stared at them disapprovingly.

Harry sighed. “No, you wouldn’t have known at all. My aunt and uncle, the Dursleys, would never have reported me missing. Someone might have found me and returned me to them,” he said bitterly. “It was their fondest hope that someday I would simply disappear. That they could pretend that I had never been there and that they never knew me. They even told me that if a stranger offered me candy and wanted me to accompany him, I should gratefully accept.”

Twilight stepped close and put her arm around Harry, followed by the fillies hugging him.

“Mr. Dursley? He has a son named Dudley, as I recall, not Harry Potter.”

“Yes, he’s tried very hard to keep my existence a secret. They frequently pretended I didn’t live with them. If you were to send the constables to Four Privet Drive and look in the cupboard under the stairs, I imagine you’ll learn all you need to know. Or you could just ask Dudley about Harry Hunting.” Harry started to scowl. “And how much fun it was,” he snarled, turning and looking away.

The solicitor had an unreadable expression, Harry saw from the corners of his eyes.

“That was something else we wanted you to look into, Mr. Yueshi,” Twilight interrupted. “About getting guardianship away from the Dursleys and to somepony more suitable.” She shook her head sadly. The solicitor noticed how the three girls all crowded close to Harry with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom each holding one of his hands in theirs while Sweetie Belle gently rubbed his back.

“But that’s for the future. First, we need to get an embassy established, and for us to do that, we need to prove to you we aren’t pulling a prank. So,” Twilight made a gesture at the tent, “if you’ll follow me?” She started towards the tent. Lin looked at four youngsters for a moment before following Twilight.

“Now,” she said, as one of the Guards, a woman, held open the tent flap, “Harry and the fillies have made this trip many times, that’s why I have them here with us. They are the experts,” she concluded with a narrow-eyed glare at them.

The fillies grinned happily at the praise. Harry wasn’t nearly as pleased, knowing sarcasm when he heard it, and still scowling over his relatives.

She stepped inside and moved to the left to allow the solicitor to come in. It was a large tent and could easily hold several dozen or more people at once. What was astonishing to the solicitor, Harry could see from the way he stared, was that the tent had several trees growing right through its canvas roof — without any signs of flaps or other opening to explain how it had been accomplished.

The tent was empty except for two men standing on either side of the tree at the end of the tent. There was a wooden ramp with a railing starting about six feet from the tree and leading to it.

Harry followed behind the man and moved to step up beside him, as he had rehearsed. The fillies followed. He cleared his throat, facing the man. “It’s completely safe,” he said. “When you step into it there’s a flash of light and you see wood on either side of you, then you’re out of the portal. You’ll stumble at bit — it’s disorientating the first time, much less so later.

“The Guards built a platform and ramp on the other side.” He looked at the solicitor intently. “The other side looks like a park with wooden trails right now — it’s still under construction. It used to be a right thick forest.” He took a deep breath. “The biggest difference you’ll notice is that the colours are all brighter there, more . . . vibrant. Almost cartoonish, in fact. And the sounds are . . . more distinct. And the air. The air is much . . . cleaner. It’s easy to get distracted.

“So, watch your step. The changes might even make you stumble and fall. Don’t worry about falling, there’s special ponies, people, who will catch you. That’s their job right now, helping you adjust as you come through the portal.”

Harry quickly started towards the tree, the fillies staying to the side and watching. He turned around and walked backwards. “Just walk normally. There’s a little sign on the tree.” He jerked his fist over his shoulder his thumb pointing at the tree. “It says ‘Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres.’ That’s where we’re going, the name of the place, that is.” He stopped when he was almost at the tree. He waved the solicitor, now at the foot of the ramp, closer. “Just follow me, it’s perfectly safe, I promise.” He turned and stepped through the portal.

Harry clomped down on all fours and kicked his human sandals to one side. He rapidly ran forward a few steps, to get out of the way. “He’s coming through now,” he called out to the two unicorns standing on the ramp on either side of the portal.

They had debated telling him about turning into a pony, but thought that he might have balked at coming through the portal. This way was more abrupt, but they hoped that knowing that Harry had turned back into a human on the other side would keep him calm. If not, they could simply step back through with Twilight levitating him.

Harry stared, stunned, at what came through the portal. It was the solicitor, Lin Yueshi, Esquire, without a doubt. The shock was . . . he was still a human!

The man towered over them all. The head of the tallest of the unicorn Guards barely reached his waist. The colt’s head barely reached half-way up his thighs, his withers just below the man’s knees. Harry had never considered the height difference, not really. Practising walking on two legs with the fillies hadn’t prepared him for actually seeing a human looming over him.

Lin stared about himself, eyes wide in his own shock. Yes, after seeing Harry disappear into what looked like a solid tree, he had expected to see what Harry had described. What he hadn’t expected was to see a score of miniature technicolour horses arranged around an elevated wooden deck and boardwalk. Not to mention that several of them were flying! And when he looked farther away, he could see dozens more, perhaps even hundreds, of the ponies working on a massive wall, manoeuvring and lifting blocks of stone the size of his office with little trouble.

Harry managed to choke out, “You need to move, Mr. Yueshi, so Twilight and the others can come through.” In a much louder voice he said, “This is Mr. Yueshi, the solicitor that Twilight has hired to help us on the other side.” The Guards moved back as the man took a few hesitant steps forward. Lin had no trouble singling Harry out, he was the only horse wearing the clothes Harry had been wearing on the other side. That the colt was almost lost in them wasn’t much of an impediment to that recognition. And he recognized the voice.

“See? It’s just like I said, isn’t it?” Harry continued. Now that he had started, it seemed harder to stop. “The colours are all brighter, aren’t they? Almost like what you see in cartoons on the telly!” He jumped up onto his hind legs, making him almost as tall as he had been on the other side of the portal. He started walking backwards. “There don’t seem to be as many fine details, though, right?” Harry was rambling and he knew it, but until Twilight or another adult took over, he didn’t want the solicitor frightened by what he saw. “And the air smells so much better doesn’t it?” He had made about three steps before he tangled his legs in his trousers and fell. Fortunately, one of the unicorn Guards saw and caught Harry in his magic.

Watching a glow surround the colt and stop him in the midst of a fall brought Lin to a complete halt.

Not worried about falling, and now held up in the air by a magic, Harry said, “Oh, heh, we didn’t think you would believe us if we told we could do magic.” He rubbed his mane with one hoof. Then kicked his hind legs a few times and managed to get the trousers to fall to the ground. “Well, at least the unicorns can — those are the ponies with the horns. The ones that fly are pegasi.”

Lin nodded slowly.

Behind the solicitor, Harry heard Twilight gasp after she came through the portal. “Oh. My. Celestia! You’re still a person! Harry turned into a pony, but you didn’t! Now why is that? Let me see . . .” A soft purple glow encased the solicitor for a moment, and then vanished as Twilight gasped. “You have no magic!” Lin turned sideways to look at Twilight.

The ponies around them all started and stared at the human. The Guards knew better than to say anything, they just watched carefully.

There were more gasps from behind Yueshi as the others came through the portal.

The unicorn who had caught Harry had lowered him to the wooden boardwalk by then. The colt took a quick look to the left and right. There were a dozen Guards on either side a short distance from the boardwalk, but these Guards had fancier gold armour that was so polished they practically shone. That gave Harry pause. These weren’t just Royal Guards, these were Royal Royal Guards. A horrible suspicion flitted into his mind.

Slowly, he turned his head to look behind himself. Yep. There she was. Seated calmly at a large table to one side of the wooden boardwalk, the railing removed to allow ponies to approach it easily.

Without a thought, he crouched low behind the solicitor’s legs.

Twilight had felt his rapid teleport. She looked down from her study of Lin Yueshi’s non-presence in the magic around them. She frowned at Harry.

She had told him many times that he had remarkably sensitive self-preservation instincts, much more so than any pony she had ever met. Which made it all the more confusing when he seemed to ignore them completely and go off to do something that boarded on suicidal with the other Cutie Mark Crusaders. She sighed and looked around to see what had set off the tetchy colt this time.

“Princess Celestia!” she cried out in surprise. She teleported over to her beloved teacher. “You didn’t tell me you would be here! When did you arrive? If I had known you were here I would have made sure we got here as soon as possible.” She gasped loudly, crouching backwards slightly. “I’ve kept you waiting! Oh, I’m sorry! I’m such a terrible student!” Twilight was well on her way to a full-blown panic, already strands of hair had started to appear poking out of her mane at odd angles.

“Calm yourself, Twilight!” Celestia said kindly, her voice like a melody. “I’ve been enjoying a few minutes of quiet contemplation without any nobles, courtiers, or bureaucrats pestering me. It is rare that I get time to commune with the world outside Canterlot like this. I thank you for the opportunity.” She inclined her head gracefully.

Twilight took a step back, “Thank me?” she said, bewildered. She glanced around the large, restful-looking, park-like clearing with scattered trees. “Oh. I see,” she hesitantly added after a moment, not seeing at all what her mentor meant.

Meanwhile, Lin had noticed both Harry’s movement and Twilight’s reaction. And the magnificent white horse seated (!) at a nearby table, sipping tea from a floating cup. “She’s beautiful,” he murmured.

“That’s Princes Celestia,” Harry said quietly. “She’s the co-ruler of Equestria.”

“I see. And why are you hiding behind me?” he said as he glanced down. The three fillies had walked up and gathered around the two. Their expressions were ones of awe as they stared at their ruler.

“Because she scares the piss out of me,” Harry said bluntly. “She’s a Goddess, with a capital ‘G.’ She’s over two thousand years old and she raises and lowers the sun every day. She once banished her sister to the moon for a thousand years. Literally. No exaggeration.” He crouched lower.

“And you think I can protect you?” Incredulity tinged the solicitor’s tone.

“Nope, but you’re bigger than me. And out of sight, out of mind. If she’s busy looking at you, she’s not looking at me! And she wants to meet you.”

Lin glanced at the fillies. “And your friends?”

“They’re ponies,” Harry said dismissively. “She wouldn’t dream of hurting one of her ponies. I’m not. I’m a pretend pony. I’m a person who masquerades as a pony.”

Applejack sighed behind him, exasperated. “Harry, you know she likes you. She thinks of you as one of her little ponies, just like us. And you know she wouldn’t hurt you.”

Harry glanced up at Applejack. “Not on purpose she wouldn’t.” He shivered. “But if she had to choose between you or me, I think we all know who would lose.”

Applejack sighed. She looked up at the solicitor. “Please excuse Harry. He has a problem with authority figures. His . . . experiences . . . with adults on the other side have left a deep impression. The more influential someone is, the less he trusts them to do the right thing by him.” She sighed again. “And his first meeting with Princess Celestia was rather traumatic, through no ponies fault.”

“And painful,” added Harry.

“That was yer own fault, Harry. Honestly, trying to run through a wall?”

“Two walls,” put in Scootaloo. “Almost made it, too!” she said admiringly.

“She scared me!” Harry said defensively. “Still does.” He shivered and looked back at the Royal.

“Mr. Lin Yueshi, Esquire,” they heard Princess Celestia say, her voice clear across the distance, but she wasn’t speaking much louder than she had been to Twilight. “Would you care to join us for a cup of tea?”

“Address her as Your Highness or Princess Celestia,” Harry said urgently. “Only speak when she expects an answer. Do not interrupt. Pretend you’re having tea with the Queen and there’s a trigger-happy soldier with an M16 pointed at your head standing beside her,” Harry said rapidly as he quickly scooted backwards. He did not say “Good luck” or “It’s been nice knowing you,” although he was thinking it really loudly.

“I-think-I’ll-tell-everypony-on-the-other-side-that-things-are-fine-here-and-that-Princess-Celestia-is-holding-court-Bye.” he said, hurriedly as he backed through the portal. Applejack sighed and just looked at the fillies. They shrugged. Sweetie Belle gathered Harry’s discarded shoes and trousers. “Come on, fillies, let’s see what trouble Harry’s into now.”

Scootaloo giggled and said, “Besides being naked in front of all those mares turned human.”

Sweetie Belle snickered.

Apple Bloom snorted. “He’s probably already at that playpark hiding under a bush.”

“And he’s always telling us not to go through the portal naked!” added Scootaloo as she shook her head.

They disappeared through the portal.

۸- ̰ -۸

22 — Surprise, Surprise!

Author's Note

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22 — Surprise, Surprise!

It was almost midmorning, less than an hour since Harry fled Equestria. Harry and his three girlfriends sat on the pavement on the forest side of the street and watched the movers at Eleven Magnolia Road work. It was rather boring, truth be told, because the movers spent most of their time helping the little old lady pack inside the house. As a result, the four spent their time staring at an empty garden with a lorry parked in the garage drive. And watched the occasional car drive by.

“Phew,” said Apple Bloom, “Those things really stink when you’re up close to them.” She waved a hand in front of her face and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “But they sure beat walking long distances.”

Then he saw someone he had hoped to avoid. “Aw shite,” he said under his breath. The fillies looked where he was looking. Coming down the street towards them were his cousin and his friends. Dudley had a big leer on his face and his friends were chuckling at something he had said.

“Well, well, well,” he said as he came closer, “What do we have here?” He frowned as Harry stood up, the girls doing the same a moment later.

“I thought you’d died when you disappeared so sudden like.”

“Any report of my death was an exaggeration,” Harry said dryly.

After a moment to mull that over, Dudley continued, “Mum and dad will be so disappointed. I don’t think they’ll let you inside.”

Harry shrugged. “Not gonna ask, anyway.”

“So, why ya here?” A sick smile briefly appeared. “Wanna try another round of Harry Hunting?”

Harry stared back at him, wondering if removing the bully’s ears would make him any uglier. He’d gotten quite good with his cutting spell. Lots of practice with timber-wolves tended to increase both one’s accuracy and stamina in casting.

Something in his expression unsettled Dudley. “So, who’re the birds?” He nodded his head at the three fillies.

“Friends of mine.”

“You got friends?” He frowned, then smiled. “Figures a poofter like you would only have girl friends.” His two mates leered at the girls.

Harry shrugged again. It was at times like this that he was acutely aware that he was shorter than anyone else his age. That here on Earth, in fact, all three girls were almost a head taller than he was. He rolled his neck.

The fillies watched and listened in great puzzlement. That this was the infamous Dudley Dursley was not in doubt. He was a bully, just like Diamond Tiara, except he seemed, somehow, more of a predator. And after the last year with Harry, the Cutie Mark Crusaders knew how to deal with predators. Scootaloo dropped behind them and looked around for signs of others. Sweetie Belle rolled her neck and shoulders and faced the bigger bully with Harry. Apple Bloom took a slightly wider stance, twisted her feet side-to-side, flexed her fingers, and narrowed her eyes at the two others with Dudley.

What would have happened next, Harry wasn’t sure, but he was prepared.

“Is there a problem here?” A woman in business attire had appeared beside them. Harry recognized her as one of the Royal Scouts.

Dudley smiled awkwardly, “Oh, no problem, ma’am. Just saying hello.”

Only Harry and the fillies noticed the slight glow coming from just into the hairline above the Scout’s forehead.

The other two boys straightened and smiled as well.

None of the boys fooled the hard-eyed woman staring at them.

And they knew it. Dudley was the first to break. “Well, I guess we’ll be going.” He turned and walked back up the street. “See ya later, ya dumb berk,” he called over his shoulder.

The transformed Guard watched until the trio was out of sight. “Are you all alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the four chorused.

“Perhaps you should return to our camp.”

“Awww,” was the disappointed reply from them all. Watching what little activity there was on a Saturday morning in Little Whinging was vastly more entertaining than sitting in a Guard camp watching the trees grow.

But they dutifully followed her back anyway.

They arrived at the camp just as the solicitor came out of the portal tent. He looked more than a little stunned at all he had seen. He looked at Harry, and said, barely loud enough for them to hear, “She made the sun move in a figure eight.” He looked off into the distance. “Then her sister just . . . appeared. She pulled the moon up and they orbited each other. Then they chased each other. The two Princesses seemed to quite enjoy themselves.”

Harry nodded glumly. “Yep. Told ya she moves the Sun. And her sister moves the Moon at night.”

Mr. Yueshi just looked at him, then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

Twilight came up to them, still fiddling with the straps on her dress, her purse floating beside her.

He tilted his head slightly. “And magic is real.” He took a deep breath. “As I said, I’ll get right on the embassy paperwork, and making sure I get as much of the surrounding land as I can for you, Princess,” he said to her as he politely nodded his head.

Twilight sighed. “Just call me Twilight, please.”

“Of course,” he murmured. “By your leave, Princess,” he nodded again, and slowly walked away towards the playpark, his forehead creased in thought.

Twilight sighed and looked over to one of the Guards, who swiftly nodded, and started to follow the man.

Now that he was fully briefed, they didn’t want anything to happen to him. In his current dazed condition, he might walk in front of one of those car things, without noticing, and get hurt.

Harry and the fillies spent the rest of their day back in Equestria. But only after Harry verified that Princess Celestia had returned to Canterlot.

۸- ̰ -۸

Sunday morning started off with a guard bringing a message from their solicitor stating the house at Eleven Magnolia Road was now vacant and they could move into it. Which they did, after breakfast at Apple Bloom’s home.

“Looks pretty normal to me,” said Apple Bloom, turning in place as she examined the couch, chairs, and end tables in the sitting-room. “Except, what’s that thing?” She pointed to a wood-grained box, its entire front a very dark grey glass panel that had left her guessing at what it could possibly be.

She looked over at Harry.

Harry was still standing in the entryway staring at a small door only slightly taller than himself, underneath the stairs leading up to the first floor. He was shivering. Scootaloo was halfway up those stairs and Sweetie Belle was already in the kitchen.

Apple Bloom walked over to him and bumped him with her shoulder.

He startled, and looked at her, his eyes wide. It took a moment for him to focus on her. “Um,” he said, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

She pointed at the box again. “What’s that?”

He looked at where she pointed and nodded. “Oh. Um. That’s the telly.” He walked over to it. “It shows those plays I told you about. Here,” he said bending over and turning it on. It was already set to BBC One.

A colourful screen appeared with a woman wearing a costume covered in dots. Harry stared at it a moment, then said, “Ah! This is Playdays. It’s a preschool show for little kids, foals just learning about numbers, the alphabet, stuff like that.” He looked at Apple Bloom who was watching the show intently. “Her name is Dot,” he added, “from the dots on her clothes.”

The sound of the telly quickly caught the attention of the others and soon the entire group, adults and fillies, were in the sitting-room, oh-ing and ah-ing over the strange device.

The rest of the day they spent shopping — while the furniture remained in the house, the kitchen was bare of what Harry considered sensible food for the Equestrians. Not to mention that they needed to get other incidentals such as soap, shampoo, towels, and more clothes. And, of course, a VCR with at least twenty films to more properly demonstrate the telly’s capabilities. Harry would finally get to see the films he had always heard about from Dudley’s bragging — Star Wars, The Princess Bride, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Star Trek, Batman, and a bunch of others.

Waitrose provided a good deal of their needs, making it convenient. The mares appreciated the large section at the front of vegetables, fruits, and cheeses. They almost lost Pinkie to the bakery section, but Applejack managed to convince her that the management wouldn’t like non-employees taking over their bakery. The canned-goods section amazed them, and he noticed Twilight taking notes. Not that they were canned, but the sheer quantity and variety.

“Is that what I think it is?” Applejack stated flatly, staring through the glass counter in front of the butcher shop section. Harry tried to shepherd the others past it and back into the canned items isle, but it wasn’t working. Twilight, surprisingly, said softly, “AJ, I told you that humans were omnivores, that they eat meat. And that the humans are the only sapients.”

Applejack grumbled, but allowed Twilight to herd her away. Rarity simply walked past with her eyes closed, shuddering. Fluttershy, to Harry’s surprise, studied the selections displayed closely. When he walked over to her he could hear her muttering. “Oh, Mr. Bear would like some of that,” “This would last Mr. and Mrs. Ferret for a long time,” and “That’s an interesting way to package it.”

Maybe not so surprising considering how many of her animal friends were meat-eaters. And here she didn’t have to worry about one of her friends dining on another.

Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo, on the other hand, were almost drooling over the seafood selections.

And, Harry realized, Pinkie Pie was once more trying to sneak into the bakery section.

Still, they managed to get all their grocery and incidental shopping completed by lunchtime.

Which was when the mares and fillies discovered that daisy sandwiches do not taste nearly as good to humans as ponies.

“Blech,” said Rainbow Dash, making a face of disgust, “this barely has any taste at all!”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo, putting her sandwich down.

Harry shrugged at every pony’s agreement. “Humans eat meat, that’s what our taste buds are designed for. We just don’t find plants as tasty. Fruits, yeah, that’s all that sugar. But regular plants? Not so much. We eat them for the roughage and some minerals.”

The others considered his words, then nodded in understanding.

“But, meat?” complained Rarity.

Harry shrugged again. “According to what I was taught in primary, humans need to eat meat to stay healthy. There are ways to be strictly vegetarian, but it’s really difficult to get all the vitamins and minerals you need without adding meat and protein.” He paused and frowned, “Especially if you are really active.” He looked over at Dash and Scootaloo. “Maybe that’s why pegasi like to eat fish every now and then.”

Rainbow and the filly looked at each other and shrugged as Fluttershy nodded.

Rarity and Pinkie Pie each shuddered while Twilight just sighed. The apple pies that AJ pulled out of her soft briefcase were a big hit, although, once again, every pony was surprised at how bland they were compared to what they were used to tasting.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching the three Star Wars films, to much acclaim by all the viewers. In the evening they watched Raiders of the Lost Ark.

The Equestrians wanted to live in Equestria and use the portal as needed, but Twilight was unsure if the magic used on Earth to address Harry’s letters would reveal their secret. She felt it would be safer if he remained in residence on the Earth-side of the portal along with the fillies. That meant the younger ones had to be chaperoned.

The mares decided that Twilight and Rarity, being alicorn and unicorn, respectively, would stay at the house while the others would use the portal. Rarity insisted that Twilight take the biggest bedroom while she took the second. The fillies would share the third, and Harry would get the smallest bedroom.

This was, of course, temporary, until three mores houses became available. Then each of the families would have a separate home. The guards and other Embassy personnel would take the additional houses in the neighbourhood until a proper Embassy could be built.

They decided to wait until the next day to send back Harry’s letter.

۸- ̬ -۸

“Where is our little dumpling?” asked Petunia, as she walked into the sitting-room Sunday evening, “The ham is almost done!” The aroma of the evening dinner roast permeated the little house, fighting with the baked potatoes and beans in a delicious battle that had her husband’s mouth drooling.

“The little scamp will be home any moment, I’m sure,” said Vernon jovially as he watched News and Sport on BBC Two.

The knocking at the door was unexpected.

“I’ll get it,” sighed the thin woman, “I’m closer anyway.”

“Tell ’em we’re not buying what they’re selling,” admonished her overweight husband.

“Hello? Oh?” she said as she opened the door and saw three constables standing there, their car at the street curb. Little Whinging Police proudly proclaimed the lettering on its side.

“Good evening, ma’am. I am Detective Inspector Appleby and this is Sergeant Williams. We’re from the Little Whinging Police Department,” said the closest officer to the door. The man to his left and slightly behind him nodded his head. “Is this the Dursley residence?”

Recovering herself, Petunia said, “Oh, yes. Yes it is.”

“Excellent!” said the officer at the expected answer. “Are you Petunia Dursley?”

Curious, she answered, “Yes. Yes I am.”

“Is your husband, Mr. Vernon Dursley, home?”

She frowned slightly. “Yes, he is.”

“Who is it, pumpkin?” called Vernon from the sitting-room, annoyed she had not yet driven off the salesman he knew must be bothering them.

“It’s the constables, dear.” She answered. Then she gasped. “Is it Dudley? Has he been in an accident?”

“No. Ma'am. May we come in?”

“Constables? At this time of day? On the weekend?” The sounds of someone large struggling to his feet reached them.

Petunia stepped back, worriedly opening the door wider, “Yes, of course.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the Inspector said as they three moved into the house.

She led them into the sitting-room, where her husband was standing.

“What is this about?” Vernon asked firmly.

“I’m Detective Inspector Appleby, this is Sergeant Williams, and this is PC Barbara Havers.” He paused and looked at the two in front of him. “What can you tell me about your nephew Harry Potter?”

The Dursley’s gasped. Vernon took a short step back and Petunia put her right hand on her chest. Vernon’s face started to turn red. “We haven’t seen that freak for over a year,” he said disparagingly.

The sergeant was taking notes. The PC looked around the room and noticed that all the pictures in view featured either a very fat boy or the Dursleys with the same fat child. There were no signs that there might be a fourth member of the family.

“Not since we sent him off to St. Brutus’s Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys,” he continued. “He was just too much of a handful for us.”

“Funny that,” said the Detective Inspector. “We contacted St. Brutus’s after a few of your neighbours mentioned them, and they’ve never heard of Harry Potter. Nor do they have any records of anyone by the name of Dursley communicating with them.”

“Oh,” said Vernon, taken aback. He had never prepared for anyone actually checking his story. “Well, they must have misfiled the records!” he blustered.

“Detective Inspector? I think you should see this.” The PC was standing by the open under-stairs cupboard door.

“Hey now!” the overweight man said, “What are you doing?”

The DI ignored the man and took a look inside. The childish drawing on the wall inside, which said Harry’s Room, drew his attention. It was partially hidden behind a coat. He studied the stained and worn cot jammed inside the cupboard under the hanging coats. He straightened. “Better call a forensic team,” he said to the Sergeant. “No one has seen the child for over a year now.”

The evening had taken a sudden turn for the worst for the Dursleys. Dudley, when he came home, didn’t help matters. Even the smartest eleven-year-old is no match for carefully worded questions from an adult. And Dudley wasn’t the sharpest knife in the utensil drawer, not by a long shot.

The scandal of seeing the Dursley’s led away in handcuffs by the constables while Dudley went — screaming — with a team from Child Services drew everyone’s attention. The gossips devoted themselves to telling everyone they just knew something had been wrong with the Durselys. Some even claimed that this past year they had suspected foul play regarding that poor Harry Potter boy. And all conveniently forgot the years they had spent vilifying the child as a layabout, thieving, little hoodlum. It also drew their interest away from the rumours that someone was going through the neighbourhood asking if people were willing to sell their homes. And closing the deals with remarkable efficiency.

۸- ̬ -۸

“AHH!” Harry yelled on opening his bedroom door Monday morning to find both Twilight and Rarity in the hall. Twilight was about to knock on his door, and Rarity was knocking on the girl’s door. The real surprise was that both were completely nude.

Harry slapped his hand over his eyes and stumbled back into his room.

“What’s wrong Harry?” Twilight asked as he tripped and fell back onto his sofa bed. Rarity and the others quickly appeared, wondering what had happened. The fillies, like the two adults, were nude.

“You’re all naked!” he exclaimed, still keeping his hand over his eyes.

He knew Twilight was looking apologetic, Rarity was looking puzzled, and the fillies were probably rolling their eyes. But he refused to lower his hand.

“You shouldn’t do that, especially where I can see you! If I had ever seen Aunt Petunia naked she would have beaten me until I couldn’t stand, and then had Uncle Vernon do the same when he got home! And we can get into trouble if you do that! Get dressed before you leave your bedroom! Go on, do it!”

With much grumbling the females all vacated his room. After a minute, he peeked carefully before heading down to the kitchen and starting coffee for the mares while putting fruit juices out for the girls.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight said as she entered the kitchen, the others doing the same as they came in.

“It’s alright,” Harry said. “We’re going to have to go clothes shopping for you all, getting you more dresses, as well as sleepwear.”

Rarity looked up, surprised, “You even wear clothes to bed?”

“Yes. And there are even robes to wear to and from baths. Like at Ponyville Day Spa, only in your home.”

Monday was Harry Potter’s very first lesson in why men, and boys, hate shopping for clothes with women and girls. Although he did almost nothing, by the time they returned to the house he was exhausted.

That evening, after dinner, they brought the Hogwarts owl back from Sweet Apple Acres and then gave him Harry’s response, which stated, succinctly, that he wouldn’t attend the school unless his three friends did, too.

Then they watched the two Back to the Future films.

۸- ̰ -۸

Tuesday for Professor McGonagall started the way it usually did at this time of the year — a stack of letters arriving in her office just before the acceptance deadline. This year, however, she had waited on tenterhooks, metaphorically speaking, of course, for that one letter. The letter that heralded the return of the one who had saved Wizarding Britain from an oppressive dictatorship. The letter that heralded the return of the son of her favourite student. The letter from Harry Potter.

She did not squee like a little girl when the flick of her wand yanked a letter from the middle of the pile the house-elves had left on her desk.

Which is what she told the Headmaster later when, at breakfast with the other professors, he insinuated that she had. “Nonsense.” She said, “As you can see yourself, I only now discovered his letter this moment while perusing the morning post!” She had made a point of opening the letters at breakfast for the last few weeks. She had, of course, pretended not to know the boy’s letter was in the pile she carried in with her from her office. She fooled no one except Hagrid, Dumbledore was amused to note. Not with the big grin she had tried to hide while walking into the hall.

Opening and reading it, to the eager anticipation of her associates, she frowned, then reread it. “Oh, dear,” she said quietly, handing the letter to the Headmaster.

The old wizard read the letter frowning. He turned it over to see the return address. His frown deepened. Then he reread the letter.

“Is something wrong, Headmaster?” asked Professor Flitwick.

Professor Snape, the Potions professor, snorted, and said disparagingly, “The spoiled brat is probably making unconscionable demands. Typical.”

The Headmaster ignored them. “Are you familiar with these children?” He handed the letter back to his deputy Headmistress. She studied the letter. “Scoot Aloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom.” Her mouth tightened and she studied the letter intently. She shook her head slightly. “I’ve never seen names like these.” She glanced back up at the Headmaster. “Even for muggles, these are most unusual.”

The frowning potions professor gave an almost imperceptible nod of agreement.

“Could they be in the Acceptance Book?” asked Headmaster Dumbledore.

“Perhaps. The letters are magically addressed and given to the owls by the house-elves.” She pushed her chair back and started for the side door to the hall. “I’ll check the book.”

An hour later she entered the Headmaster’s office.

“Well, my dear,” said the old wizard, “What have you discovered?”

She seated herself on the chair in front of his desk and she shook her head, “They are listed,” she stated. “But when I asked if Slinky or any of the other owl house-elves remembered owling them their letters, he said, yes, popped away, and came back a moment later with these.” She held up three sealed letters. She looked Dumbledore in the eyes, “He said they had just appeared in the owl-post slots for sending this morning.”

“Wonderful! That satisfies Harry’s request that they be allowed to attend, then.” He nodded happily. “But why so late, I wonder?”

She frowned. “And they have the same address as Mr. Potter’s letter.” She placed them on his desk.

“Do they now?” he said, intrigued and picking them up to examine.

“Apparently they live together.”

“Most unusual,” muttered the old wizard, glancing at his monitoring trinkets. None of them showed anything amiss. “Perhaps he was staying over the weekend when his letter went out?”

She sighed. “I’ll visit them tonight with the normal Muggle-born Introduction booklet.” She looked up at the Headmaster. “At least we know he is alive and well. And has good friends.” The headmaster looked more disturbed than pleased, to her surprise, and his gaze was directed thoughtfully over her head.

۸- ̰ -۸

A grey cat with black stripes, and black squares around its eyes tied together over her nose with a single black stripe — somewhat reminiscent of spectacles — sat on the front window ledge at number Twelve Magnolia Road and stared at number Eleven Magnolia Road across the street. The family there seemed to interest the cat as it closely observed everything the four children and six adults did. Which, oddly, seemed to be having a film marathon. She would have liked to be closer, but the lack of any convenient trees meant she would have had to be on their window sill, and she would have been noticed long before now.

The cat had arrived shortly after five o’clock, just before the normal rush of cars heralding the return of the breadwinners to their homes. For some reason, there appeared to be fewer of them than normal for such a residential neighbourhood, especially at this end of the street. In fact, the very house which the cat was using as a post was vacant, and recently so, from the scents that the cat detected. And the houses at number Ten and Thirteen had a mover’s lorry parked in their garage drives.

Finally, at seven o’clock, when it became apparent that no automobile was going to be arriving at number Eleven, the cat jumped down and ran to the side of house at number Twelve where the early evening shadows were deepest. Moments later, a woman walked out and headed across the street, the setting sun casting her long shadow down the street.

She didn’t notice the woman watching her from several houses down at the opposite end of the street.

۸-_-۸

23 — Pub Crawling

The ten of them were so engrossed with the film, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, that they almost didn’t hear the knock at the door. The adults exchanged glances. Unless there was something wrong, the guards had been ordered to not approach the house until Twilight gave the okay. Could there be a problem?

“I'll get it,” said Twilight, heading for the door. The woman she saw at the door took her by surprise. A tall, severe-looking bespectacled woman with dark hair tied up in a bun was standing at the door. Twilight knew she couldn’t be one of the neighbours. All the closest ones had already sold their houses and were making moving arrangements with her solicitor. They were too busy moving out to be bothered with introducing themselves to the Equestrians. And it would be rather pointless because they were just going to move away, anyway.

The stranger smiled. “Hello, I’m Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. I have acceptance letters for a Miss Scoot Aloo, a Miss Sweetie Belle, and a Miss Apple Bloom. Are they here?”

Twilight smiled and stepped back as she studied the woman carefully, “Yes, they are. Come in. We’d expected another letter in response to Harry’s reply, but someone from the school actually coming is a nice surprise.”

The Deputy Headmistress stared at her a moment, considering what she had said. She nodded her thanks as she walked in, carefully looking around at the small house.

Twilight led her into the sitting-room. Harry quickly shut off the film on the telly as he, the fillies, and Spike stood up from where they were sitting on the floor. Quite by accident, Spike was mostly hidden behind Harry and the fillies.

“Everyone,” Twilight said, “this is Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.” A chorus of murmured, “Hellos,” greeted the witch.

Twilight turned to face her. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, this is Blueblood, . . . ,” she said and then proceeded to introduce the herd. She ended with Harry and the fillies. Each girl said “hello” and waved as her name was mentioned, helping the professor identify them. The vibrant hair colours they all sported took her by surprise.

Minerva smiled slightly at seeing Harry. She recognized him immediately. “And Mr. Potter is here, as well. Excellent.”

Still smiling, she said warmly, “You look like your father, but you have your mother’s eyes.” She turned to the three girls and studied them. They looked like typical pre-teen girls, meeting her gaze with happy smiles. Their eye colours, though, were a bit unusual — green, red, and purple. Most wizards and witches had either brown or blue eyes.

“And this,” Twilight continued, “Is my number one assistant, Spike!”

Spike stepped out from behind the three fillies and waved, adding his “Hello.”

Surprised, McGonagall took a step back and rapidly drew her wand. She hadn’t noticed the green dragon partially hidden behind the girls, thinking the green colour was some kind of stuffed toy covered with sequins. “A dragon!” she said. She didn’t point her wand at the dragon-child as none of the other’s seemed worried at its presence, but she kept it ready.

“Well,” Spike said, putting his hands on his hips, “Of course I’m a dragon. Haven’t you ever seen a dragon before?” He puffed up his chest proudly.

A normal witch would have blatantly stared, mouth dropped open in shock, but Minerva was made of sterner stuff. She taught at a school where children went from preteens through puberty to adults. It took quite a lot to break her composure. However, he still flummoxed her a bit. “Not one that talks,” she said slowly. “All the ones I’ve heard about are vicious, unreasoning, deadly creatures.”

The Equestrians all raised their eyebrows at that revelation. Maybe that was why Spike hadn’t turned into a human when he came through. There were dragons here, just not very intelligent.

“Well,” said Twilight, “I’ve raised Spike from an egg and I’ll have you know that Spike is neither unreasoning nor vicious. He can be quite insightful at times. And he has excellent flame control.” She gazed at him proudly.

Spike preened under the praise.

“Ah. Yes. I see,” the professor said still studying the little dragon. She was familiar with most of the dragon breeds in the world, and Spike’s form and attitude was unlike all of them. She carefully put her wand back in its pocket.

“I don’t suppose you know that it is illegal to hatch and raise a dragon without a Ministry license?”

“Is that so?” said Twilight. She shrugged. “No one ever told us, and no one not in this room knows about Spike being at this house.” She smiled at the professor. “I suppose we’ll have to see about getting that license, then.”

McGonagall just stared for a moment. Then she shook her head and returned to her regular business.

“Let’s see,” she said, “This is for you, and you, and you,” punctuating each by handing a sealed letter to the girl whose name was one the front. She turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter, I know you requested in your letter that we allow your friends to join you. Only children with sufficient magic are allowed to attend Hogwarts. Fortunately, your friends appear to qualify, although I don’t know why they didn’t get their letters when you received yours.” The girls hurriedly opened their letters and hopped happily in place, showing each other and Harry their letters.

McGonagall turned to the adults. “Now, then. I’m sure you have many questions, the first of which is usually ‘Is this a joke?’ I assure it most certainly is not. Magic is real.” She paused to look at Spike uncertainly, her normal spiel clearly not being of much use.

They all simply nodded. Not surprising, really, considering they were apparently raising a pet dragon.

“Yes, we know,” said Twilight, staring interestedly at the wand.

The Equestrians had debated this point several times before deciding to be up front about it. While they had decided they wouldn’t mention the portal or Equestria, trying to pretend they didn’t know magic would backfire when Harry and the fillies inevitably displayed their knowledge and abilities. Of course, they hadn’t expected an actual visitor, so the visitor meeting Spike would have ruined any other plans, anyway.

Rarity smiled and lifted her mug of tea in her magic to take a sip. Harry and Sweetie Belle also smiled and lifted their fizzy drink bottles from on the floor to their hands. Prince Blueblood, not to be outdone, magically poured additional tea from the pot on the table into his cup before lifting it for a sip.

It was a bit more strenuous here than at home, and required far more concentration. Twilight had theorized that magic wasn’t nearly as prevalent here as the reason for that difficulty.

“Oh,” the older witch said, “I see. And wandlessly, too.” She blinked a few times, thinking. “That makes things simpler. Have you had any contact with the wizarding community? Do you know about Hogwarts already?”

To that, Twilight said, “No, we haven’t. We know nothing about either subject.”

For the next hour, with many interruptions by Twilight, the professor told the Equestrians about the wizarding community and how they kept themselves separate from the non-magical humans, although she called the non-magicals, muggles. Twilight’s quill flying across paper as she took copious notes kept drawing the older witch’s gaze as the quill and paper floated beside the young woman. Not even the Headmaster had ever shown off such fine delicate unconscious wandless control. And she hadn’t seen either the quill or stack of paper appear, either. They were just there.

She also gave them the sales-pitch about Hogwarts, a boarding school, being the best magical school in Great Britain. She demonstrated some simple spells with her wand, as well as transforming herself into her cat animagus and back. That drew intense interest from all of them and she spent a short time explaining it.

When she said that her wand was made from fir with a dragon heartstring core, she didn’t miss the appalled looks they gave her in response. Spike gasped out loud and stared at her, frightened and hiding behind Twilight. “The dragon who supplied my heartstring died of natural causes,” she said to Spike, reassuringly. Still, everyone, including Harry, was clearly upset by that revelation.

Then she explained the money system used by the wizards, adding, “You can exchange pounds for galleons at Gringotts, the Goblin bank.”

Twilight frowned and asked, “Will they accept gems or gold instead?”

The professor stared at them a moment, thinking. “Yes, if you have some jewellery you’d rather exchange, they will take those instead.”

Harry could tell she was curious why they didn't want to exchange pounds for the wizarding currency.

Relieved, Twilight nodded and said, “Oh, good.”

“Now,” McGonagall continued, “I’m taking another muggle-born student to Diagon Alley tomorrow. If you’ll meet me at The Leaky Cauldron in London tomorrow at eight, you can come with. Otherwise we’ll have to make an appointment for later this week.”

The disguised alicorn quickly agreed, “Oh, yes, we can easily do that. Where is this Leaky Cauldron?”

“The address is in the Muggle-born Introduction booklet,” she pointed at the small brochure she had left them.

It took her another hour to finally escape Twilight’s copious questions. As she reached the door, however, she stopped and asked, “Oh, by the way, will Mr. Potter be returning to the Dursleys tonight?” She didn’t miss the way Twilight stiffened at that question.

“The Dursleys,” Twilight said slowly. “Do not get along well with their nephew, so we decided he could stay with us when he wanted. Fortunately, he was with us when your first owl arrived. The Dursleys truly detest magic and get quite upset if you even mention it. They deny it exists. I can’t imagine how they would have reacted to that letter.” She shuddered. “Oh, and the Dursleys do not know that we can do magic.”

She looked back at the witch. “Right now, they are staying in Woking. Some type of legal issue that requires they stay there until school starts, I think.” Pinkie Pie snickered while Rarity and Rainbow Dash exchanged smirks. "They're staying at . . . well . . . I heard someone refer to it as one of the Queen's Resorts. It's apparently one of many."

Professor McGonagall nodded. “Well, then, until tomorrow,” she said as she left the house.

She had her head down, thinking, as she walked down the street looking for a convenient shadow to disapparate from. She didn’t notice the woman watching from the shadows of the darkened house across the street.

۸- ̰ -۸

Apple Bloom turned to her sister. “Um, AJ? Can I have a hair for my wand?” She scuffed her foot on the rug. “I don’t want to take a chance on getting’ a wand with a core from a stranger. Or,” she shuddered, “a dragon.” She looked guiltily at Spike.

Sweetie Belle turned to her sister with a similar plea.

At Scootaloo’s desperate look, Rainbow Dash just grinned. “Sure, squirt,” she said pulling out one of her long hairs. The one she pulled came without a struggle, as if released by her desire to give it to Scootaloo.

Rarity and Applejack quickly followed suit.

Harry turned to Twilight with a hopeful look, and she quickly handed him one of her hairs. Four sheets of paper from the stack Twilight had been using flew up, folding themselves into envelopes as they floated to a stop in front of Harry and the fillies. “To keep them clean for the wand-maker,” she explained.

The adults adjourned to the kitchen to discuss their next steps while Spike, Harry, and the fillies returned to their film.

Later that night, Spike made a quick trip to the portal and sent a copy of Twilight’s notes and her report of their meeting with the Deputy Headmistress to the Princesses.

۸- ̰ -۸

Harry’s morning started like the previous two, cajoling and whining at the fillies to wear clothes. As they came down the stairs at six o’clock, they saw Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy coming in the front door. The fillies and Harry were surprised to see Twilight and Spike coming in with the other mares. Harry wondered when she had gotten up and why she had gone to the portal.

In the dining room, Pinkie Pie unloaded her soft briefcase, placing an impressive pile of the baked goods on the breakfast table. Meanwhile, Applejack unloaded her briefcase with a huge pile of pancakes Granny Smith had prepared.

“Here you go, Harry,” Twilight said, handing him a piece of wood about twice the size of his thumb in diameter and reaching from his fingertips almost to his elbow. “It’s from the Library Tree. I thought you maybe could use it for your wand. And the Princesses sent you some hairs, as well. Maybe the wand-maker can put them all together?”

Harry’s eyes sparkled as he gently took the branch. “Brilliant, Twilight!” He hugged her.

Applejack handed a similar piece of wood to Apple Bloom. “It’s from Ol’ Granddad,” she explained. Apple Bloom almost burst into tears at that. Old Granddad was the first apple-tree planted at Sweet Apple Acres over three hundred years ago, before Ponyville was founded, by her great-great-great-grandfather.

Rainbow Dash turned to Scootaloo and held out a primary feather, “Here. This might work better for you than a hair. After all, I am the fastest Pegasus in Equestria, not,” she cut her eyes towards Rarity, “the most vain.”

“Taking pride in one’s appearance is not vanity,” Rarity said haughtily as she glared at Dash.

“You keep telling yourself that, Rare,” Dash replied, and laughed as Rarity’s glare intensified.

Scootaloo reverently took the feather and rushed to her rucksack to store it in the envelope from last night. The others followed suit.

Breakfast was quick and soon they were waiting for the limousine promised by their solicitor. Harry had heard Twilight call him last night and explain where they needed to go. He had told her he would arrange for a limousine to pick them up and take them to the address they needed. When they needed to return, all they had to do was call the service and tell them where they were.

As for the call itself, well, Harry had shown her how to use the telephone system and the solicitor had told her what the number was at Mrs. Marple’s house when they moved in on Sunday. It was now posted above the phone. Their solicitor had told they would keep that number until the Embassy was set up.

The limousine was huge, a long low-slung vehicle with more than enough seating for the ten of them. Harry had never seen such a vehicle before. Fruit drinks were stored in a small refrigerator behind the driver’s seat. For the ponies used to chariots, carriages, and railcars, it was quite an experience and Harry had a difficult time holding his laughter back at their amazed reactions.

The drive itself was just as riveting. They couldn’t believe the high-speed traffic, to the Equestrians that is, on the M3-M25-M4. Fifty miles per hour with three and four lanes of traffic, with London growing large in the distance was an incredible experience for them. Only pegasi in Equestria moved that fast. And yet, here, it was considered ordinary for everyone. And so many at the same time!

۸- ̬ -۸

The driver stopped in front of a bookstore at Forty-two Charing Cross Road to let them all out. Twilight was the first out of the car and nearly bolted for the bookstore before they could grab her. It took both Applejack and Rarity repeating, “Focus, Twilight, focus!” to drag her away. All the while she longingly gazed at the books on display in the store’s windows. Books no pony had ever read. Books she could tell were not in the Little Whinging bookstore.

Harry spotted The Leaky Cauldron as he waited for the drama to end and everypony else to exit the car. It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If he hadn’t been looking for it, Harry wouldn’t have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it, either. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other. It was as if they couldn’t see The Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and* the Equestrians could see it.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby, he thought as they entered. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking something from tiny glasses. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut.* The low buzz of chatter slowed when they walked in and the customers inside looked them over.

Professor McGonagall was standing by the bar at one side of the pub, in the back. With her were two adults and girl, looking quite out of place in their modern clothes. Twilight led the group towards her.

The bartender looked up and said, “These the rest of your group, Professor?” Before she could reply, though, the bartender said “Good Lord.” He peered at Harry, “is this — can this be — ?” The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

“Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter . . . what an honour.”

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.*

Compared to the laid-back attitude of the ponies in Equestria, this was quite overwhelming to Harry. The crowd, only a dozen or two people, quickly edged the fillies and other Equestrians away from Harry.

Professor McGonagall, her muggle guests, and the Equestrians all stared, completely flummoxed at the way the witches and wizards were reacting to Harry’s mere presence.

The room was brought to a stunned silence as a tremendous BOOM shook the pub.

Harry looked over at the source of the noise and saw Pinkie Pie, with an ear-to-ear grin, hoisting her party cannon on her shoulder. Streamers hung from every spot where a streamer could hang and glitter softly wafted from the ceiling. A huge banner stretched over the bar, reading “WELCOME BACK, HARRY POTTER!” A huge cake adorned one table, the glitter somehow avoiding it. A poster was on the wall, labelled Pin the tail on the Pony! A ribbon sliced to resemble a pony tail hung beside it.

While the wizards and witches were gawking at the transformed pub, Harry’s three friends took advantage of the distraction and quickly formed a triangle around him.

Pinkie yelled, “PARTY TIME!” and started handing out slices of cake to the nearest wizards and witches. Harry over-heard her say, “Hello evil Wizard who will soon have two faces, have some cake.” He couldn’t see whom she was speaking to, although he did hear the man choke in surprise.

Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack were quick to take advantage of the situation and also surrounded Harry, cutting him and their sisters off from the wizards and witches.

“Where did she get that cannon? How’d she make that banner!” one of the muggles said. “Where did the cake come from? Where did she put that cannon?” said the other. Their daughter, at least Harry assumed the girl was their daughter, crowed happily, “Magic is going to be so much fun!” and bounced gleefully in place, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

Pinkie handed her a slice of the cake. “I know, isn’t this just wonderful? All these new friends to make!” she said, just as gleefully, as she bounded off to deliver another slice of cake.

McGonagall looked at Twilight with eyebrows raised in surprise. Twilight was face-palming. “Don’t try to understand Pinkie,” she said. “The one time I tried I almost had a nervous breakdown.” She sighed. “She breaks the laws of magic and physics all the time.” McGonagall looked at the hyper-active Pinkie Pie and then back at Twilight, her expression easily conveying the message, you are kidding, aren’t you?

Tom, the bartender, watched as Pinkie Pie walked out of the Pub’s kitchen with three large trays, one in each hand and one on her head, each loaded with muffins and cupcakes. He looked over at the giant punchbowl at the end of his bar and sighed. It hadn’t been there when these witches had come in.

He looked at the happy, smiling wizards and witches in the room. He saw that there were more than just a few minutes ago. He smiled. Whatever was happening was good for business. If not today, then tomorrow. He started lining up mugs of punch on the bar, and stronger drinks behind them. That banner would draw all sorts of customers to his pub throughout the day.

The Equestrians carefully herded Harry over to McGonagall. They formed a wall behind him and the fillies and cut off the curious Wizards and witches, whom Pinkie was doing her best to distract.

The professor cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about that,” she said to Harry. “Some wizards just have no sense of decorum.” She glared at the wizards and witches in the pub behind Harry. She turned to the muggles beside her. “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Granger and their daughter, Hermione Granger.” She turned back to the Equestrians and proceeded to introduce them to the Grangers. There was a lot of handshaking as they exchanged greetings. She didn’t remark on the fillies all having black hair today.

After that was completed, she said, “Harry, as you can see, is something of a celebrity in our world.” She again cast a dark glare into the pub, which was remarkably crowded, now. It seemed word of Harry’s “party” was spreading rapidly.

Harry shivered. He had to fight against the urge to hex the crowd of them for touching him like that. He was Harry Potter! How dare they!

“Come,” she said, and led them out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

The Equestrians looked around and were not impressed. Neither, from their expressions, Harry could tell, were the Grangers.

“It’s to throw off suspicion from the muggles,” the witch explained. “And you’ll need to remember this,” the professor said to her younger charges, “Three bricks up and two across from the left.” She tapped the indicated brick with her wand.

The brick she had touched quivered, as if made of gelatine, and suddenly twisted sideways leaving a small hole. The bricks around it began twisting and turning and the hole grew wider and wider until if formed a large archway. One large enough even for their group to easily pass through it onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

“Welcome,” said Professor McGonagall, “to Diagon Alley.”

After they all had stepped through, Harry relaxed as looked back over his shoulder and saw the archway’s bricks twist and turn back into solid wall. He had recovered his equilibrium, now that they were not in that cursed common pub. And the magic! Watching it course through the bricks as they reversed was fascinating

Potage’s Cauldron Shop was the shop right beside the Archway. A stack of cauldrons was piled outside it. Above them was a sign that said, Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible*.

“We’ll come back for one of those, later,” McGonagall said as she guided them down the alley.

۸- ̬ -۸

A.N. * italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

24 — One Speed Only

The string slowly made their way down the Alley, following in Professor McGonagall’s wake. The mares were no less amazed at what they saw than the fillies and colt. The shopfronts were all slightly odd looking, their proportions off just a little from what they expected — the straight sections were ever so slightly crooked and the curved sections seemed to stick out farther than they should. “Ah wonder if Discord visited this place?” Applejack said. “Everything has that ‘not quite normal’ feel to it.”

“Yes, dear,” said Rarity, “It does at that.”

“But not nearly as in-your-face as Discord seems to like,” added Dash.

“Hmm, yes,” Twilight said thoughtfully.

Pinkie, on the other hand was darting back and forth across the Alley. Nothing seemed to escape her attention as she popped up behind barrels and disappeared behind crates. Disappearing on one side of the street and reappearing on the other without apparently crossing the space between. Professor McGonagall occasionally would glance at Twilight, who would just shrug.

After their experience in The Leaky Cauldron, the fillies made sure to surround Harry at all times. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were at his sides, each holding one of his hands, and Scootaloo trailed behind.

Rainbow Dash’s and Pinkie Pie’s strange hair colouring garnered them much attention, especially Dash’s rainbow tresses. The comments Harry could overhear seemed split between delighted surprise at the colours and disgust at such brazen attempts at garnering attention, with many disparaging remarks about muggles.

Harry could see the mares twitching their heads slightly as they heard comments that the speakers clearly didn't expect them to hear. Being Equestrian did give one better hearing, it seemed.

The casual displays of magic were not unusual to the ponies turned human, unlike the Grangers, but the items they saw for sale in the shops certainly were. There were cauldrons, telescopes and strange silver instruments, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes (both of which appalled the ponies), tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of paper, potion bottles, globes of the moon, and lots of other items. Unlike Ponyville and Canterlot, though, both of which were quite expansive, the street and buildings were crowded close, with merchandise stacked outside the shops and reducing walking room even farther.

The commotion of the young boys at the broom shop left them puzzled. What could possibly be exciting about brooms?

They almost lost Twilight when they reached a bookstore by the name of Flourish and Blotts, but quick action by Applejack kept her with them, grabbing her arm and saying “Twilight, you can examine the bookstore later, if not today then another day. First we have to get to the bank.”

“But, books!” Twilight complained as she reluctantly allowed herself to be dragged away, staring longingly at the shop as they left it behind.

Harry noticed that the Granger girl likewise had to be redirected by her parents, although with far less pouting. He saw the girl and Twilight exchange a dismayed look, then both sighed dramatically at the unfairness of life. A human version of Twilight? He chuckled at the thought, then blanched as he considered just what that meant. He edged slightly farther away from her. She was too busy gawking at their surroundings to notice.

The big alabaster building with its odd lines drew their attention the moment they saw it. Applejack muttered, “Discord,” and shook her head. The strange creatures, Goblins, Professor McGonagall called them, standing at the doors caught their interest, as did the warning carved into the marble over their heads. Again, Applejack had to restrain Twilight. “They don’t look that friendly, dear, but I’m sure there are books about them in the bookstore,” she said consolingly as she once again dragged the pouting pony-turned-human away from the objects of her interest.

Professor McGonagall, noticing the Equestrians’ interest in both the carving above the doors and the Goblins to either side, said, “Gringotts is probably the safest place anywhere in England for whatever you hold valuable. The only place safer than Gringotts is, naturally, Hogwarts.” She gave a quick glance to the adults. “There’s no safer place than Hogwarts for your children.” The Equestrian all nodded. That was what they would expect of a school that taught magic. The Grangers, on the other hand, didn’t look nearly as confident.

The expansive, luxurious marble interior was astonishing in comparison to the drab colours and shabby appearances in the rest of the Alley. The lobby wasn’t too crowded this early in the morning, but there were a fair number of wizards at the tellers’ windows, including one giant of wizard who was almost twice as tall and three times as wide as a normal man. Harry wondered what he was up to, as he kept taking furtive nervous glances around the lobby.

Harry looked back at the doors. Yes, he decided, the inside was bigger than the outside. He wondered if such a spell could be applied to smaller things, such as bags. He could imagine Applejack spelling her wagon to carry many times its normal load to save trips — if she could pull it, that is. On the other hand, Big Mac had no difficulty moving their cart as it was. Even if they only increased its capacity by half, it would still be a massive timesaver for them.

Harry had never seen such an impressive building. He noticed, though, that the mares did not seem impressed at all with the building. Not surprising, consider how often they visited Canterlot. The mares found the Goblins hurrying around much more intriguing. Fluttershy, however, seemed to be cowering behind Dash. The many swords and knives the Goblins wore apparently intimidated her.

Harry was relieved to see several Goblins working at assessing or counting jewels. Maybe the few they had dug up might give them a bit of spending money of their own. Buying ice cream or other treats when they wanted instead of having to beg their relatives for a few bits would be soo nice. With any luck what they had dug up yesterday would last them the year.

The professor led them to an unoccupied teller’s window, the same one the really big wizard had just left, heading off to the rear of the bank and following a Goblin.

The Goblin at the window wasn’t idle, but writing in something. “Yes,” he growled as she stopped in front of him. His countertop was well above Harry’s and the fillies’ line of sight. Even standing back from the teller’s window still only let them see the Goblin’s face.

“Mr. Granger, here,” she indicated the man, “would like to exchange pounds for galleons.” She turned to the muggles and said, “We’ll meet you at the front doors when everyone else is finished.” She then led the others to a new window, where she received the same surly greeting.

“These witches would like to exchange gold and jewels for galleons.” She indicated the mares. The Goblin gave them a long searching look, lingering on their hair colours, especially Rainbow Dash’s.

“And here is Mr. Potter’s key to his vault,” she continued. The Goblin took the key. He examined it closely, and even went so far as to lick it.

“I will conduct Mr. Potter down to his vault so that he may withdraw sufficient funds for the coming school year,” she explained to the group.

Twilight and the other mares exchanged uncertain looks, as did the three fillies. They clearly had reservations about letting Harry away from their sight. Finally, Rainbow Dash said, “I’ll go with him, too.” A relieved looking Twilight nodded her head thankfully.

Meanwhile, Harry could see the fillies wanted to go with him. But if they did that then they wouldn’t get their gems traded for whatever bits they could get. “I’ll be fine,” he said to them in an undertone, slipping off his rucksack. “You take care of the gems.” He pulled the bag of gems from his rucksack and handed them to Sweetie Belle. He shrugged his rucksack back in place.

“Griphook!” called out the teller.

A Goblin came hurrying up.

“They require access to this vault,” the teller said, tossing the key to the new Goblin.

Griphook snatched the key out of the air and hurried towards the back of the bank. Professor McGonagall followed quickly. With a startled look at each other, Harry and Dash rushed after them. These Goblins did not wait on ceremony, apparently. After walking down a hallway that became a tunnel, they arrived at a triangular cart and three-rail track. The cart had a seat in the front for the Goblin to steer and a larger seat in the back that could fit three.

Harry took the middle seat after Professor McGongall got in, and then Dash followed him. With a lurch, the cart started moving slowly, but rapidly increased speed. Then the cart plunged down a slope. Harry had heard about roller coasters from Dudley, and this one fit his description perfectly.

“YAAAHOOO!” yelled Dash as they shot down the twisting and turning track. Harry soon echoed her enthusiasm. At one point Harry thought he caught a glimpse of a dragon. When they finally rolled to a stopped in front of a large metal door Rainbow Dash and Harry were both laughing and grinning like maniacs. The professor was much more staid, but she still sported a bit of a smile.

“THAT WAS AWESOME!” yelled Dash, thrusting her hands into the air. She suddenly turned to Goblin, “Does it go faster?” she demanded staring at him intently. Her windblown hair gave her the appearance of a mad woman.

Taken aback at her reaction, he grumbled, “One speed only.” He turned away from her, walked to the vault door, and used Harry’s key to open it.

Scowling, Dash shook her head and ran her hands through her hair. Amazingly, her technicolour hair straightened and fell into long waves that once again reached her waist. It didn’t look as carefully brushed and combed as Rarity’s or the other mares’ hair, but it would pass as acceptable. Harry was used to such things from the ponies, so he said nothing. The professor stared, then shook her head.

To say Harry and Dash were surprised at the contents of Harry’s vault would be an understatement. Harry reflected that he and fillies hadn't really needed to go gem hunting, after all. And that it was a good thing his Uncle had never known about this vault.

Harry took off his rucksack. Rarity had made a few alterations to his pony saddlebags by adding a few extra straps and buckles that reshaped the bag to accommodate his human form. When he returned to Equestria all he had to do was rearrange the straps and he had his saddlebags back. He quickly started scooping handfuls of the gold coins into the rucksack, ignoring the others.

Dash had already lost interest and was looking up and down the tracks outside the vault for something interesting.

“Mr. Potter,” the professor called from the entrance. “Do be cautious, those galleons have to last you through all seven years at Hogwarts, and perhaps a year or so afterwards until you are gainfully employed. Don’t take too much.”

Harry stopped, frowned, and then sighed. He dumped the galleons onto the floor. He stood quietly for a moment, thinking. He could move the coins with levitation, he knew, but trying to heft that many was beyond his current abilities. However . . . he smiled. He stared intently at the massive pile of coins. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster, the coins slid, one by one, to the back of the vault and started forming eight piles. At first, Harry moved the coins all the way, but he quickly realized that all he had to do was give each coin a hard push and it would fly the rest of the way. The coins became a blur as they shot from the big stack. After a moment he changed his aim and they started to fly up to hit the back wall and drop back onto their respective piles.

He heard a gong sound in the distance.

Harry was sweating by the time he finished, but there were eight piles of gold coins. He looked back at his professor, proud of his achievement. He couldn’t heft many things at one, but he had stamina! She was clearly surprised at his magical skill. He smirked to himself as he walked to the closest golden pile and started scooping coins into the bag. The pile was almost gone by the time he filled the small backpack — and he could barely lift it. He estimated he had between two hundred and three hundred coins. That should be more than enough, given the average wizard only earned about a hundred galleons a year, according to the Professor.

“How much is in here?” he asked as he turned to the Goblin. Surprisingly, there were now two Goblins standing at the door, hands on their knives. One watched Rainbow Dash outside the vault while the other intently watched the two of them inside.

The Goblin didn’t answer except to scowl as he pointed up with one long finger.

Above the door on the inside was written, “3,000G.”

Harry did the math quickly. Three thousand divided by eight gave him three hundred and seventy-five, divided by twelve was thirty one galleons, which was six thousand two hundred pounds! He couldn’t imagine spending over ten pounds a month, never mind six thousand two hundred, while living at a remote boarding school where all living expenses were covered!

Stupid adults. He rolled his eyes, don’t take too much today, indeed! Seems like only the ponies were smart. Naive, but smart.

Staggering slightly under the weight, he headed for the cart.

The Goblin closed the door behind him, hurried around them to hop into the cart, and then glowered at the slower moving humans. That Dash was already in her seat somewhat spoiled the effect he wanted. The other stood outside their closed vault and watched.

“Let me fix that for you, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said. She looked at the Goblin. “Do I have permission to cast a featherweight spell on Mr. Potter’s backpack?”

At his nod, she touched her wand to his backpack and mumbled something Harry missed. Instantly, it felt as if his backpack had become empty. He took it off and looked inside. Sure enough, it was packed with gold coins.

“Thank you, Professor,” he said relieved that he wouldn’t be lugging that weight all day in the Alley. He also made a mental note to learn that particular spell. Before putting the backpack back on, though, he took out three galleons.

The professor was waiting for him before getting in herself. “Hurry up, Harry,” called Dash, rocking back and forth in the cart and obviously hoping the return trip would be as much fun as the trip down. Grinning as he got in, he held up the three coins. He dropped one into the Goblin’s hand and said, “All three are yours, if the trip back is faster.”

The Goblin grinned evilly as he said, “One speed only.” Professor McGonagall started to look worried. Dash, on the other hand, was grinning widely.

As they slid to stop, Harry, laughing excitedly, handed the Goblin his reward. The Goblin said in a low voice that only Harry could hear, “For certain definitions of one, indeed, the carts have only one speed!”

Harry and Dash were still chuckling as they entered the bank’s main lobby. They looked around and headed for the front doors to meet up with the Grangers and the rest of the string. Neither noticed the almost empty lobby and the tense atmosphere around them, nor the increased number of Goblin soldiers with their hands on their knives and swords while nervous wizards and witches hurried to complete their business. Wizards and witches entering the bank took one look, and turned around to leave.

Harry saw Professor McGonagall looking around and nervously fingering her wand in its holster and wondered why.

Still smiling from the wonderful rollercoaster ride, Harry remembered to ask an important question. “Excuse me, Professor McGonagall, but could I have my vault key, please?”

The professor shook her head and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, but until you reach your majority, seventeen in the magical world, your key will remain in the hands of your guardian.”

Harry laughed ruefully, “If my Uncle gets hold of that key, the vault will be empty before lunch.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Potter,” said the witch, “I’m referring to your magical guardian, not your muggle guardians.”

Harry frowned. “As far as I know,” he said, “I don’t have a magical guardian.” He looked up at her.

“Ah, well,” she said, “In your case, your magical guardian is Albus Dumbledore. He was appointed by the ministry back when your parents died. He’s responsible for you and your actions while you are in the magical world.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Could I switch to Twilight as my magical guardian?”

“No, I’m afraid not, Mr. Potter,” she said, shaking her head. “While she is a witch, she isn’t part of the British Wizarding community and as such has no legal standing.”

Harry nodded again. Clearly, he needed to get a wizarding solicitor to find out what his options were in this magical world.

Rainbow crossed her arms and started pacing back and forth. “What’s the hold up with the others? I thought everypony else was still in the lobby here.” She rolled her shoulders, “Celestia, I wish I could fly here!” She turned to the Grangers. “Excuse me, do you know where the others went? Was there a problem?”

“Well, I saw them headed for the back of the bank following a Goblin, but I don’t know why,” Mr. Granger said. He nodded to his wife, “We were discussing the charges on changing pounds into galleons, and whether or not having an account here would help.” He frowned. “They don’t have any interest-bearing accounts, and the vaults all have monthly fees.”

Hermione piped up, “I think it was something the girls brought up. It looked like they were finished when Sweetie Belle, I think, handed a bag to the Goblin. He took a look then called over another Goblin.”

Harry said, “Oh. That must have to do with the gems we dug up on Friday.” Dash nodded in understanding but the other adults all looked puzzled.

“But,” Harry asked, “why were our gems different from the ones that Prince Blueblood said Princess Celestia and Princess Luna gave us?” He looked over at the Grangers. “Applejack did give both briefcases to the teller, didn’t she?”

Hermione nodded. The boy noticed Mr. Granger in the background, with raised eyebrows, mouthing ‘Princesses’ to his wife. Oops.

He considered what he knew. The difference must be in the sizes. He knew that the ponies all favoured small gems that could easily be sewn into clothes and added to armour — Rarity’s favourites were barely bigger than grains of rice, although she did have a couple of necklaces and gowns made with bigger gems.

And he remembered how huge the gems had looked in Equestria and how much smaller they appeared here. In fact, now that he thought about it, based on how small his rucksack was and how big his saddlebags were, the size difference was almost double, even if the weight was the same.

What was throwing him off, he realized, was that ponies were quadrupeds while the humans were bipeds. For the same weight, quadrupeds appear much smaller, just as a two-hundred pound dog appears smaller than a two-hundred pound human simply because the animal is not bipedal. Perspective changes everything. A standard rucksack would drag on the ground if tied to a pony’s barrel.

The gems they had collected were all considered too large and gaudy for most ponies — only good for Spike to eat — but maybe the Goblins liked the big gaudy gems?

۸- ̰ -۸

The fillies watched as Applejack hefted the briefcase with the gold onto the teller’s countertop, followed immediately by the other briefcase with its gems.

The Goblin opened the first and took out a gold ingot. He placed it carefully on the scale beside him and placed various weights on it until it balanced, then removed the rest of the ingots, stacking and counting them quickly. When he finished he gave Applejack a speculative look. He was impressed. She had placed a briefcase weighing seventy-five pounds on his counter as if it were no more than a ten-pound weight. “One thousand, one hundred-fifty galleons,” he stated firmly.

Twilight looked surprised, “But there are twelve hundred ingots,” she said.

He shrugged, “Cost of converting muggle gold ingots into galleons.”

Applejack nudged her and nodded.

Reluctantly, Twilight said, “Alright.”

He folded his hands together and leaned forward, looking her intently in the eyes. “Do you wish to open a vault? For a slight monthly fee we offer a wallet that lets you directly access your galleons without having to carry around the heavy coinage or worrying about having sufficient funds while you are shopping. Or being robbed for carrying so much gold at once.”

After considering her options, Twilight nodded.

The Goblin again reached below his counter and pulled up a dragon-hide wallet. All five mares stepped back, noses wrinkling up at the offensive leathery smell. He looked at them curiously. Twilight took a breath and stepped closer. “Is that wallet the only option? Do you have anything that is not . . . someone’s flesh?”

He studied her carefully, noting the looks of revulsion on the other witches faces. “For a small fee we can enchant a wallet made of Acromantula silk,” he sneered.

Relieved, Twilight said, “Yes, please.”

The Goblin pulled out a paper, wrote something on it, folded it in half, wrote some more, and then dropped the paper into a slot in the counter. He quickly refilled the briefcase and, with difficulty, moved it behind his window. He turned back to Twilight and held up a golden key.

“This is the key to your vault, do not lose it. Anyone who has this key has access to your vault.” He placed a knife on the counter top. “Put a drop of your blood on that key.”

Hesitantly, Twilight took the knife. Grimacing, she made a small cut on a finger, then smeared the blood that welled up onto the key. As she handed the knife back to the Goblin, she noticed the cut had already completely healed. Impressed, she asked, “How does that work?” holding up her cut-free finger.

The Goblin ignored her as he put away the knife and then opened the other briefcase. He studied the gems for a moment. He put on a pair of eyeglasses, removed one gem, and examined it closely. “Are these all about this size?” Sneering seemed the normal facial expression for this Goblin. He dug a hand into the briefcase and let some the gems cascade back inside.

Rarity said, “That size is the easiest for us to work with.”

The Goblin grunted. “We will have to assess these and owl you our offer.”

Twilight nodded agreeably.

“Your address?”

“Number Eleven Magnolia Road, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

“A muggle neighbourhood?” he said, the level of sneering increasing markedly.

“Yes.”

“There is a slight charge for delivery to muggle neighbourhoods.”

Twilight frowned, but nodded, nonetheless.

“Wait over there,” the Goblin waved his hand dismissively in the air, “your wallet will be brought out to you.”

The mares turned to leave when Sweetie Belle spoke up, “Excuse me, sir?”

Scowling at the interruption, the Goblin leaned forward to look over the edge of his counter. He said nothing, just stared at the girl, her two friends pressed up beside her.

She held up a small bag and, voice shaking, said, “We’d like to sell these to you.”

The Goblin rolled his eyes, but reached down and rudely snatched the bag from her hand. He sat back and opened the bag, taking a swift look inside. It was clear to the mares that he was ready to dismiss her out-of-hoof, and Rarity stepped closer, getting ready to say a few words in reprimand to his uncouth behaviour regarding a filly. She could handle the ill-mannered Goblin’s attitude towards her, but to treat fillies that way was another story.

Instead, he stared into the bag and then slowly set it down. Carefully, he reached inside and took out a perfectly square red gem with bevelled edges that was double the size of his thumb. He inspected the stone closely with his eyeglasses. He carefully set the stone back into the bag.

“Stoneface,” he called. While he waited for the other Goblin to arrive, he wrote a quick message on paper and dropped it into the same slot as the previous paper. Then he folded his hands and leaned forward again, and simply looked with a blank expression at the three girls as Stoneface arrived.

“Take these customers to Master Facet.” He handed the bag of gems to the Goblin. He pulled out whatever he had had before and went back to work.

“Umm,” Twilight said uncertainly, “Our wallet?”

Without looking up and in a bored tone, but no longer sneering, the teller said, “It will find you.”

Stoneface had already started for the back of the bank and the group had to hurry to catch up.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

The official exchange rate in 1991 for Gold bullion was approximately £200 per one troy ounce not £5, which is what J.K. Rowling used as an exchange rate for galleons. Which makes one knut about £0.40, not almost one cent, which is what she wanted to make her math simpler — one galleon is 493 knuts (17 sickles at 29 knuts per) and as close as you can come to five pounds in pennies. That is, one knut is about one penny, at her conversion rate.

25 — The Bank Job

Author's Note

300 LIKES! YEAH!
Here's a chapter to celebrate!
Now for 400 . . .

25 — The Bank Job

After taking several staircases down, Stoneface stopped in front of a door and knocked on it. He opened the door, walked in, and dropped the bag of gemstones on the desk inside. He exited the room and walked off. The Equestrians exchanged puzzled glances, then Twilight walked into the office, followed by the rest.

The Goblin at the desk was wearing a suit and eyeglasses that had extra lenses suspended above them. He said not a word as he poured the stones out onto his desk. He flipped one of the lenses down over one eye and started dividing the gems into two groups.

As they entered, they noticed two fierce-looking, armoured Goblins standing on either side of the door inside the office. While polished to a gleam, the armour had clearly seen use. Both held spears and were wearing swords and large knives. They would have fit right in with the Royal Guard.

Fluttershy let out a frightened “Eep,” and wedged herself between Applejack and Rarity. Pinkie Pie began to shake and stage whispered, “It’s a doozy!” Twilight and Applejack began looking around carefully. The fillies huddled a bit closer together.

The Goblin closely studied the seven gems he had separated from the rest. Finally, he looked up. “Gringotts offers you ten for these seven and ten for the rest.”

“Is that all?” Sweetie Belle said, the other girls echoed her disappointment.

“Maybe one of the regular banks will give us more?” suggested Scootaloo, remembering what the solicitor had said about the other gems, as they looked at each other.

“You misunderstand,” the Goblin said, “That is ten for each of these seven, and ten for the rest.”

Applejack frowned at the Goblin.

The girls looked at each other; that sounded much better — eighty galleons for the four of them to share wasn’t bad at all. They were about to accept when Applejack interrupted.

“Yeh aren’t being honest with us,” Applejack stated flatly.

“Applejack?” Twilight said uncertainly.

Pinkie giggled and pulled out a bag of popcorn and started munching. “And here it comes,” she murmured.

“Ah kin feel it, he ain’t being honest ner fair with us. Them stones are worth far more then what he’s offering. And his original offer was for twenty fer ’em all, not ten each fer the big ones.”

The Goblin stared at her. “Are you calling me a liar?” he said standing up behind his desk.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Ah kin feel it, yer not telling us the truth. Them stones are worth far more’n yer offerin’.”

The Goblin yanked his knife from his belt and leapt onto his desk, yelling “I shall kill you for that insult!” He clearly hoped he could intimidate these witches and make an even bigger profit — the young were new witches and their relatives were magicless wastes of space.

Applejack took a step forward and hunched down, dropping her purse.

“Applejack!” Twilight yelled.

The Goblin grinned viciously at the apparent success of his tactic, the female bowing to his superiority. He jumped off his desk at Applejack. “Cower, you useless muggle!” the Goblin roared.

This was not the first time the mares had been attacked without provocation, and they reacted instantly.

Twilight spun to face the guard closest to her. She crouched slightly as her purse hovered at her side.

His spear fell to the floor as the Goblin pulled his sword with one hand and a knife with the other. They were too close for a spear to be anything but a hindrance.

Rarity, also crouched and faced the other guard, who had mirrored his partner.

A soft glow suffused a spot just above the foreheads of the two mares, one violet and the other blue.

Neither of the guards noticed. They were expecting to see wands, or perhaps knives. They were dismissive of the unarmed defenceless females.

Fluttershy dove for the three girls. She wrapped them in her arms as she carried them to the floor and against the front of the Goblin’s desk.

Applejack dropped her hands to the rock floor.

The Goblin landed in front of her.

She spun around.

He laughed at the female huddled with her back to him.

Applejack threw her weight forward onto her arms.

The Goblin held his knife to slash at the foolish female.

She pulled her knees up to her stomach.

He stepped forward.

She launched her feet backwards in a classic buck. It landed solidly on the Goblins chest, shattering his ribs with a loud crack and launching him over his desk and into the wall behind it.

There was sickening crunch as he hit the wall. He slid to the floor, unconscious, leaving a thin bloody trail on the wall.

The two guards stood, unmoving. The unarmed muggle had easily defeated Master Facet when he should just as easily have defeated her. None of the other females had moved to act aggressively, with the pink-haired one still eating that strange food from her bag. Killing defenceless, females brought no honour. It was better to wait for a superior.

Outside the room they could hear a loud gong reverberating through the building.

Applejack regained her feet and purse, and slowly walked around the desk to look at the Goblin. Gagging slightly, she said, “Twilight? Ah think this here goblin needs a healin’ spell or two. He’s looking mighty poor.”

Twilight looked over at Pinkie Pie, “Pinkie? Do you think you could keep an eye on this guard for me?”

“Okie dokie lokie!” she said, skipping over to stand in front of the guard. She opened one eye until it comically took up most of her face while narrowing the other down to a pin-prick. She stared at the startled Goblin intently. “Want a muffin?” she said, holding one out to him. The bag of popcorn was not in sight. The Goblin eyed the muffin as if he thought it might explode on him.

A wise Goblin, Twilight thought as she joined Applejack.

She looked at the slumped Goblin and winced. She started by casting a healing spell on the Goblin’s head. He would have a severe headache when he woke up, if not a mild concussion.

“These Goblins aren’t as tough as Ah expected. That shouldn’t have done more’n dazed him a bit,” Applejack said, shaking her head.

The guards glanced up at her declaration.

“Heck, even Apple Bloom would have shrugged that off.”

The listening guards stiffened slightly on hearing this.

The little girl peeking around the edge of the desk at the fallen Goblin, nodded her head.

The door to the office flew open and half-a-dozen guards flooded into the room. Seeing that there was no fighting, they moved to perimeter of the room, awaiting further instructions and leaving the females unmolested.

“Oooh!” cried Pinkie, “More Goblins to the party! Is Jareth coming, too?” She darted around, moving across the room to random Goblins. In short order each of the Goblin guards had his sword in one hand and a muffin in the other. None of them were exactly sure how their knives ended up back in their sheaths at their belts.

Moments later, another Goblin came in. This one was obviously a superior and was dressed in a suit. The muffins were quickly hidden behind backs. “Who dares draw a wand in Gringotts!” he yelled, angrily. “Who dares attack a Goblin!”

“You’re not Jareth,” Pinkie said, disappointed.

No one said anything for a moment, but the Goblin immediately noticed the two females behind his employee’s desk. “What are you doing!” he roared, stalking around the desk.

Twilight looked up from where she leaned over the wounded Goblin, “Saving his life,” she said drily.

The goblin stared at her a moment. He saw the soft violet glow in the hair above her forehead with its matching counterpart surrounding the bleeding Goblin on the floor. He turned and pointed at the door guard that had faced off against Twilight, “Report!”

Before the guard had finished speaking, the suited Goblin was inspecting the gems on the desk. They ranged in size from a small tooth to seven that were twice the size of his thumb.

Applejack kept an eye on the Goblin-in-charge while Twilight finished casting her spells on the injured Goblin. Finally, Twilight stood. “That’s all I can do. He’ll live, but he needs to see a professional healer.”

The Goblin turned to her. “Use of a wand inside Gringotts without permission is punishable by death.”

Applejack laughed. “Good thing she don’t have a wand then, ain’t it?”

The Goblin faced Applejack. “You used magic against a Goblin in Gringotts.”

She laughed again. “Eynope. Ah bucked him for attacking me.”

“And I suppose you don’t have a wand either,” he said, scowling.

“Eynope.”

“Impossible.” He pointed at the blood smeared on the wall. “No simple kick could do that.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Are you calling your own guard a liar?”

The guards in the room all stiffened.

The Goblin scowled harder. “He was watching his opponent, not you.”

“So, yer calling me a liar?” She stood straight, her muscles tensing. She was scowling, now.

He studied her stance and demeanour carefully. She wasn’t an ordinary muggle female. Her stance was that of a warrior blooded in combat. She wasn’t bluffing. “Prove you can kick that hard.”

“Right,” she said. She looked around the room, then at the desk. “If’n Ah kick this desk into the wall, would that do?”

He looked at the desk, then at the muggle female in front of him. The desk was solid oak and easily out-weighed the fragile human at least twice, if not three, times. She would have a tough time even moving the desk. He smiled toothily. “Yes.”

Fluttershy shuddered at the display of sharp predator teeth.

Applejack smiled back at him, “Ah’m not responsible for the damage done to the desk or wall.”

He nodded, saying, “Yes.” The only damage would be to her feet. He picked up the bag from the desk and scooped the gems into it. He didn’t want any of them to be jostled and land on the floor for him to have to pick up. Because, of course, anything that falls off a desk immediately rolls underneath the desk. And requires getting down on hands and knees and crawling partway under the desk to retrieve it. Not very dignified, and it wasted time.

Applejack walked to the side of the desk. Pinkie was again eating popcorn out of a large bowl cradled in her arm and had managed to get one of the guards to sample a handful. He seemed to like it, as he was grabbing a second handful. Fluttershy and the girls moved over beside Rarity.

Applejack looked at the desk, took a couple of steps back, and crouched down. She looked over at the Goblin in the suit, nodded once, and then spun to put her back to the desk. She put her hands on the rock floor, leaned forward onto her arms, and then launched herself into a full buck, landing her feet on the edge of the desktop — hitting the side would have merely caved it in.

The desk took off like a shot and slammed into the wall with a loud WHAM! Cracks spider-webbed out from the impact on the wall. The desktop itself broke into four pieces on the grain of the wood and separated from the now warped and broken desk.

The earth-pony in human form stood up, dusting her hands off. “Believe meh now?”

The Goblin stared at the destroyed desk and severely damaged wall. He had felt magic surge into the room, but he couldn’t sense how it had been used. And without a wand or casting a spell, it was nothing that defied any treaty or law of the Goblin Nation. Sourly, he nodded.

He turned to Twilight, “Gringotts offers you twenty for each of the seven gems Master Facet singled out and ten for the remainder.”

Twilight just looked at him, then said, “Don’t talk to me, those gems belong to the fillies.” She pointed at the three girls.

The Goblin looked surprised and turned to the girls.

Sweetie Belle looked back at him, took a shaky breath, and said, “Make it thirty for those seven, thirty for the remainder, and it’s a deal.”

The Goblin sneered, “Do you think me a fool? I haven’t examined them properly, they could be flawed. Twenty-five for the seven and Twenty-five for the remainder.”

“Your Master Gemmologist looked at them quite closely and was quite pleased. Do you not trust one of your own that has the experience of a Master? Twenty-seven for the seven and the same for the remainder.”

They settled on twenty-seven for each of the seven gems and twenty for the remainder after she finally threatened to take the gems to a muggle jeweller. Just from what their solicitor had told them, they should be able to get that much from a normal jeweller.

As she half-whispered to the others before finally agreeing, “Hey, that’s over fifty-two and a quarter each, not bad for an afternoon’s work!”

She saw the smile the Goblin had as he dropped the bag of gems in his pocket. She should have started at forty instead of thirty, she realized! But then again, she knew banks had to turn a profit. And haggling was haggling. Both parties had to feel they got a bad deal or a good deal. And she was happy with what they had made.

“Okay,” she said, “Can we get four bags with the galleons evenly divided in them?”

The Goblin turned back to Sweetie Belle. He actually looked surprised. “You want to take the galleons with you?”

“Sure, why not?”

“That’s a lot of galleons.”

She shrugged, not seeing the problem.

He blinked a few times, seeing that she was serious.

“It would be better to put them into a vault and use wallets to remove the galleons when you need them.”

Sweetie Belle frowned, but then Apple Bloom said in a low voice, “That’s a lot of gold coins, Sweetie.”

Startled, Sweetie looked back at Apple Bloom. “An entire bag of bits is heavy!” Apple Bloom explained. She knew, from all the times she had helped out at her sister’s stand in Ponyville’s Marketplace that a lot of bits weighed a lot!

Sweetie Belle turned back to the Goblin. “Alright. Setup one vault and give us four wallets made of akro . . . aacrom . . . .” She stopped and looked over at her sister.

“Acromantula silk,” Rarity provided.

“That,” Sweetie Belle said, nodding.

The Goblin nodded, He pulled an unbroken inkwell and paper from the desk, and started writing things down. After a moment he dropped the finished message into a drawer in the desk he had to force open. Apparently, even though it was wrecked, the spells on the desk still worked.

“One vault?” whispered Scootaloo.

“Yep, it’ll be cheaper, I think, and if we need more money we can always go dig up some more gems next week,” Sweetie whispered back.

“How’ll we know we’re running out of galleons in the vault?” Apple Bloom innocently asked the Goblin. He turned from the desk and stared at her.

“You are now the tenth largest depositor in Gringotts with two hundred nine thousand galleons. I can’t imagine what you would buy that would come close to depleting your vault. However, should your balance fall below one hundred galleons the inside of the wallet will turn green. At fifty galleons it will turn orange. At ten galleons it will turn black. At zero it won’t open.”

All the mares and fillies, except Twilight, stared at the Goblin with their jaws dropped. If they had been in Equestria, their jaws would have been on the ground.

Twilight stared at everyone’s reactions. The values mentioned seemed high to her, but then again she never had to deal with money. Anything she wanted she just told the merchant to bill to the palace, as Princess Celestia had told her to do. She had a bowl in her room that magically refilled when she took out bits for incidental spending — like at Sugar Cube Corner, or the Secondhoof Bookstore when she was looking for rare books she didn’t already have, or for Harry to get a treat, for example. She shrugged. Money wasn’t that important, anyway. Books, on the other hand . . . .

“Two hundred and nine thousand?” squeaked Scootaloo.

“When he said twenty-seven, he meant twenty-seven thousand, not just twenty-seven galleons,” half whispered Sweetie Belle, stunned at the discovery.

The Goblin heard her and stared back, clearly aghast as he realized that the young witch had haggled like a pro and hadn’t even known the value of what she was selling. He closed his eyes, then shot them open. Sweetie Belle wondered what he was thinking.

The Goblin stared at them a moment longer, then took out the bag and removed the very large bevelled purple stone. He held it up between his thumb and pointer finger and cleared his throat. “If you find any more of these gems, Gringotts would be most interested in acquiring them. The larger, the better. They are called painite.”

“Why would we do that?” Apple Bloom said. “We have plenty of bits . . . galleons in the vault, we really don’t need any more.”

The Goblin frowned, then said, “If you were to bring us more, we would forgive certain fees in addition to paying you top galleon for the gems. We would even . . . open up certain ventures for your investment.”

Rarity walked over and took a closer look at the gem he was holding up. “Oh, yes,” she said brightly, “The Royal Guards at home enchant these gems to make their armour more effective. They prefer the smaller ones, though, they are easier to inset into the armour and easier to charge for the average uni . . . uh, wizard. The magic to charge them is proportional to their volume, you know.” She looked at it pensively. “I usually ignore them when I find them as my customers don’t like the way those gems interfere with their spell-casting if there are any sewn into their clothes.”

The Goblin wearing the suit kept his expression somewhat under control, but he still looked startled. Clearly, he realized that none of the mares in the room were simple muggles, or even average witches. The other Goblins looked shocked at such casual use of an extremely rare gem. And what that mention meant for the actual rarity of the item.

The Goblin nodded politely, then said, “Those two,” he pointed at the two guards who had originally been in the office, “will conduct you to the lobby. Your wallets should be ready by the time you get there. If you desire to sell Gringotts any more gems, ask for Knifethrower. I will deal fairly with you.”

Applejack gave him a hard look, then slowly nodded.

He opened a drawer and removed a key and knife. He handed both to Apple Bloom as the closest filly. While she was busy, the Goblin pulled out another paper wrote on it and dropped it in the outbound slot.

After the fillies all bled over the key to their vault and gave their names, Knifethrower declared their business concluded.

It was a quiet group that exited the office. The fillies were mulling over their new-found wealth and the mares were wondering why the fillies’ gems rated such special treatment. The gems Twilight had given their teller in the lobby had been so casually handled by comparison.

۸- ̬ -۸

“There they are,” Dash exclaimed pointing. Harry had to admit he relaxed a bit at seeing his friends and the adults coming out of a door at the back of the bank. The two guards escorting them were a surprise. Pinkie munching on popcorn and sharing it with one of the guards was a bit unexpected, but, hey, Pinkie. After her performance at The Leaky Cauldron he should be relieved she wasn’t leading a parade!

Before they were halfway to the rest of the group, several Goblins came hurrying out of another door at the back of the bank. Two of them were carrying wallets, one had a staff almost as tall as he was, with a large lens at his eyelevel, and the last simply followed the others.

The Goblins with the wallets caught up to the group at the front doors to the bank. One Goblin walked up to Twilight and silently held out a wallet. “Thank you,” she said taking it.

The other Goblin walked up to the three fillies, bowed, and held out four wallets. “Oh,” said Sweetie Belle, “These are so soft!” as she took one, followed quickly by the other two. “Oh, you’re right,” said Apple Bloom. “Here,” said Scootaloo, handing one to Harry. “We opened a vault with our gems. We don’t have to worry about bits while we’re here,” she said with a smirk, “the Goblins gave us two hundred and nine thousand galleons for them.” The eyes of the remaining adults, and Hermione, went wide as their jaws dropped open.

Scootaloo snickered, “And they wanted to know if we could get more!”

Surprised at the amount, Harry still rolled his eyes at her comment. “How many buckets of gems should we give them?” he asked sarcastically.

She laughed. “I think they’d fall over in a faint like Fluttershy if we brought in a bucket!” She got a mischievous look in her eyes, “Still, that would be funny, wouldn’t it?”

Harry grinned back at her.

The two Goblins standing beside them exchanged glances.

The other two Goblins had stopped some distance away and the one with the staff gasped loudly as he looked through the lens atop it. Harry looked over at him as the Goblin had his companion look through it as well. He, too, gasped.

The Goblin in front of Twilight said, “To seal the wallet to yourself,” he glanced at the other mares, “and anyone else you wish to grant access to it, put a drop of blood inside. Then only you or any others who are sealed to the wallet may remove funds.”

The other Goblin was giving the same instructions to the fillies. He held out his hand with a small silver knife on it. Sighing, the three fillies each took the knife and blooded their wallets before handing the knife to Harry, who followed their example. He had bled often enough at the hands of Dudley that sticking himself with a knife was nothing.

The Grangers watched avidly.

When Harry looked over again to the other two Goblins, they were already walking away to the back of the bank, whispering to each other. The Goblin not carrying the staff was waving his arms around wildly. Harry saw that Professor McGonagall, frowning in concentration, was also watching those two Goblins.

Seeing that their duties were completed, the two Goblins in front of them gave short bows to Twilight and the fillies, then left. Harry noticed that Professor McGonagall seemed surprised at the Goblins’ actions.

Twilight dropped her wallet into her purse, after baptising it with her and her friends’ blood.

۸- ̬ -۸

26 — The Shop Around the Corner

As they left the bank, it was Scootaloo and Apple Bloom at his sides, each holding one of his hands, while Sweetie Belle trailed behind.

Their next stop was the bookstore, to the delight of both Hermione and Twilight. Dash chose to stay outside and watch the people in the alley. And wish she could fly while in this world.

Professor McGonagall warned, “We are on a schedule, so we can’t spend more than half an hour in the bookstore!”

Twilight walked in first, squee’d, and disappeared into the racks of bookshelves before either Rarity or Applejack could grab her. They both sighed and set off to find the book-hound. Pinkie Pie said, “Party books!” and disappeared almost as fast as Twilight had. Fluttershy wandered off as well with a loud, for her, “I wonder what books they have on the animals here?”

Hermione longed to follow Twilight, Harry could see, but her parents guided her to the register. The rest of the herd followed her.

“Here for your Hogwarts’ books?” asked the witch behind the counter. At Hermione’s and the other girls’ eager nods, he said, “The books are sorted into the different years over there,” she pointed to seven large boxes, numbered one to seven, on the opposite side of the store. Each was piled high with bags. “Each bag has all the books you’ll need for the coming year. Just go to the box with your year on it, pull out a bag, and Bob’s your uncle!”

Scootaloo gasped. “I get an uncle named Bob with my books?” she said excitedly, eyes wide in delight.

The witch behind the counter gave her a puzzled look. “You’re not from England, are you? That’s just an expression meaning you’re done.”

“Oh.” Scootaloo said in a disappointed tone. Harry put his arm over her shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly, “We’re your herd.” She smiled up at him gratefully. “Want to look around and see what kind of books they have?”

Hermione had already disappeared after Twilight, her mother admonishing, “Only three books, Hermione!” A faint, “Yes, mum,” came from the bookshelves.

Several minutes later, Harry saw Rarity, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie drag Twilight, her arms full of books, out from the back of the store, sputtering, “But I barely started that aisle! And the upstairs!” She gazed longingly at the staircase she could see ahead.

Pinkie giggled, “Silly, why don’t you just grab a catalogue from the front counter like this one?” She waved a thick magazine in front of Twilight. Twilight’s eyes locked onto the catalogue and she started following it like a cat tracking a laser dot. Rarity and Applejack shook their heads and followed behind her to make sure she didn’t suddenly make a break for the first-floor staircase. Pinkie continued, “Then you can order one of everything and have it delivered!” Twilight moaned and started to drool.

Harry shook his head. Knowing people as well as he did, Harry had grabbed Curses and Counter-curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More). Then came Animagus: Harnessing Your Inner Animal because he was curious if his Equestrian form really was his animagus. Finally, almost as soon as he noticed it, he grabbed Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimensy. That last one scared him a bit — it was possible for wizards to read his mind? The spells might be a bit beyond him at the moment, but it was better to be prepared than caught lacking. Dudley had taught him that lesson.

Sweetie Belle had Hogwarts: A History, Modern Magical History; One Minute Feasts - It’s Magic! and Enchantment in Baking. Harry rolled his eyes at those last two. With her record for starting fires in the kitchen he shuddered to think what she could achieve with Earth’s magic added — and hands. Apple Bloom had found A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions, Good Gardens Guide 1990, and Shrubs & Trees for the Garden. Scootaloo had picked up The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle; Voyages with Vampires; and Wanderings with Werewolves, as well as several books that all started Harry Potter and . . . .

Scootaloo stopped in front of Harry. “Hey, Harry, did you see these books?”

Harry stared at the books, then grabbed the top one off the stack she was carrying, Harry Potter and the Pirates of Connacht. He quickly skimmed the first few pages. “What a load of tripe!” he said in disgust. “This thing claims to be the true story of one of my adventures as a child! It’s . . . it’s . . . garbage!” How dare they! How dare these . . . lowly wizards . . . tell lies about his life! He felt as if he knew just the awful, painful, delightful curses he wanted to hit them with . . . except . . . he didn’t know any spells like that. He shook his head uncertainly. He was a good colt!

He stalked to the front of the store to find Twilight with her stack of books at the register, the clerk ringing them up. “Twilight,” he said, furious.

Twilight jumped at his tone and looked at him worriedly.

He held up the book. “This is a bunch of lies about me!”

She gasped and grabbed the book from him. She started reading, quickly flicking the pages. She looked at him, no less upset than he was. She glanced around for Professor McGonagall. The Professor was at the front of the store talking with the Grangers while they waited on their daughter to return with her selections.

They both stalked over to the professor. “Professor McGonagall,” Twilight said tightly, “What are the libel laws like in this world?”

“Whatever do you mean?” asked the professor.

Twilight showed her the book.

“Ah, well, I’m not a solicitor, but the libel laws state clearly that you cannot print lies about anyone. And to use another person’s reputation to sell a product without their permission is also illegal, I believe.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “Fine! Where can I find a solicitor?”

The professor glanced out the front window of the store. “Well, the Goblins might be able to suggest someone for you. Other than that, I don’t know of any solicitors, personally, who deal with issues like this.”

Twilight turned to the boy. “Harry, I’m going to have a discussion with the Goblins. I’ll catch up with you later.”

She turned and headed for the door. “Twilight,” he said chasing after her.

“What!”

“Pay for the book!”

She stopped and blushed. “Right.” She headed back to the register and handed the wallet to Rarity. “Take care of things for me. I have an errand to run.” She showed the book in her hand to the clerk, who nodded. Twilight spun on her heel and headed out for Gringotts.

Harry looked up, “Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“Why are there books about me? Why did all those people in the pub come at me? Why am I a celebrity?”

She studied him carefully. The fillies were at his side, listening just as attentively. She sighed. “I suppose those dreadful relatives of yours told you nothing of this world?”

He frowned heavily. How did she know about the Dursleys? And how they had treated him? He shook his head, distrust flooding his mind. This would require a bit more thought, later.

She tsked. “Ten years ago a powerful and terrible Wizard was trying to take over the Wizarding World. He was so powerful, only the Headmaster could stand up to him in a duel. This vile wizard believed that only those of ‘pure’ blood should be allowed in our society. That the muggle-borns should be excluded, killed, even. He regarded the muggles as little better than animals — to be avoided where possible, and exterminated where not.

“He and his followers killed scores of people. Almost anyone who disagreed with him died. Whether they were pure-blood, half-blood, or muggle-born mattered not to him. Only the very brave defied him. Sometimes even the rumour that you were against him would draw his ire. Entire families were wiped out. Everyone was terrified of him. And nearly every family that did survive lost someone to his Death Eaters. Those were terrible times, indeed.

“The Ministry was about to collapse and the rebellion succeed, when he decided to attack your parents.” She shook her head sadly. “Fine people they were, your parents. I had them both in my classes. They were both in Gryffindor House, my House, and even made Head Prefects their seventh year, you know.”

She paused. “I don’t know why, but He Who Must Not Be Named . . . ,”

Harry could hear the capital letters as she said that. Rarity and Applejack were listening in, as were the Grangers.

“. . . decided to target them specifically, although they did defy him, fighting his followers, and even him, personally, several times. Perhaps Headmaster Dumbledore knows more. In any case, on Halloween night, 1981, he attacked your home. Your parents, I’m sorry to say, died fighting him off. Then he tried to kill you. He used the most evil curse known, the Avada Kedavra — it kills instantly when it hits you. Even if it just touches your hair, you die.” She looked out the storefront window, then back at Harry. “That’s one of the three curses that is an automatic life sentence in Azkaban, the wizarding prison, if you use it.

“It failed. You lived. And he was destroyed.” She paused, pursing her lips. “Almost everyone thinks he died, that you somehow killed him. Headmaster Dumbledore disagrees. He says the dark wizard was reduced to a spirit and is still alive, in a sense.” She looked at Harry intently. “With his ‘death,’ the revolt fell apart. His followers immediately fell to fighting among themselves, and the Ministry was able to recover and arrest them.

“Everyone was ecstatic that the Wizard had been destroyed, and they decided you were their saviour. After all, he had died attacking you, and all that happened to you was that scar on your forehead.” She glanced at it. “Dumbledore sent someone to your home to rescue you, then hid you away where no one in the wizarding world could find you. And, thus, you disappeared from our world.

“Rumours went wild about where you were and what you were doing. And how you had destroyed the dark wizard. In the absence of information, they made up their own stories.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hence the scene in The Leaky Cauldron. And those books. To put it simply, they feel you are a hero for saving them from that dark wizard.”

Harry looked down at the floor in deep thought. He knew the Dursleys had always lied about how his parents had died. A car crash didn’t explain his occasional dream about a green light and an explosion. He needed far more information.

In a soft, kindly voice, she added, “I suggest you get the book, The Last Dark Lord. It has the most complete account of that time period, and has a chapter on your parents.”

Sweetie murmured, “I’ll get it,” and left for the bookshelves.

It took another fifteen minutes to get them all rung out at the register. Time that allowed Harry to think about what the professor had told him, and calm down from his fury about the lies in those books. He hadn’t been that furious at anypony, ever, that he could remember. And here he had done it, twice, today. He shook his head ruefully. He had better control of his temper than that. He would make sure to meditate every night before bed for the next week or so.

It was just that . . . something about the way these wizards acted just . . . set him off. Maybe it was the feeling that they somehow thought they were superior to him. As if. He snorted and grabbed hold of Scootaloo’s hand. He would think about what he had just been told, later. After he had read that book. Twilight had taught him always to get the facts before making a decision. Which was ironic, considering how often she flustered herself with a problem before doing her research.

Rarity stared with dismay at the numerous bags and piles of extra books.

The Witch behind the register said, “Oh, are you muggles? I can shrink everything for you if you want, then when you get home just tap them with one of the children’s new wands and they’ll pop right back to normal.”

“Oh, then you can put everything in my rucksack,” volunteered Sweetie.

He watched carefully as witch performed the spell with her wand. He was absolutely, definitely, going to learn that spell! His studies with Twilight were beginning to pay off as he could almost see the way the spell was put together. He would have to try it once they returned to the house.

Sweetie smirked at him, “Oh, so you’re finally going to let me carry your books to school, are you?” She fluttered her eyes as she tilted her head. He rolled his eyes as the other two fillies laughed.

The fillies had been pestering him almost every day in Ponyville to carry his books for him during the school year. It seemed to be a pony tradition for fillies to carry the school books of colt friends. And, as the only colt member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, they felt they should do that. His response every time had been, “I can bloody well carry my own books!” — even if his saddlebags were overly large for his frame and almost dragged on the ground. He wasn’t sure why he was so insistent, just that picking one of the three would probably annoy the other two and start another round of incessant squabbling.

Minutes later they were out the door and headed for their next destination, a place called Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in a pale purple set of robes.

She smiled at Professor McGonagall. “Another group?” she said warmly.

“Yes,” said the older Witch, “Five this time.”

“Oh, my. That’ll take a few minutes. I have another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

Hermione handed her rucksack to her parents.

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Hermione on a stool next to him, while Harry and the other girls filed in behind and watched. She slipped a long robe over the girl’s head, and began to pin it to the right length.

Rarity and the others wandered around the shop looking at the various fabrics and items on display.

“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Oh, yes,” said Hermione enthusiastically.

“My father,” said the boy in an arrogant, bored, drawling voice, “is purchasing my textbooks, and mother’s examining wands.” He sneered down at the attendant before saying, “As soon as these bumblers finish my robes, I’ll be off to inspect racing brooms. Why first years can’t have their own, I don’t know.” He shook his head at the ignorance of others. “Father will get me one and I’m sure he will manage an exception for me.”

Harry couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Great. The first wizarding kid they meet is a prat and a bully. Typical.

“Do you have a broom?”

“Oh, no,” said Hermione. “Why? Is it important?”

He sniffed, then said suspiciously, “Are you a muggle-born?”

“Er, yes?”

He sighed, as if deeply offended. “That explains it,” he said derisively.

“What?” Hermione said, perplexed.

He sniffed again, making a face as if smelling something bad, and looked up and away from her, ignoring her question.

Frowning at the obvious snub, Hermione stood in silence until the witch working on his robe said to the boy, “That’s you done, my dear.”

Sneering at the witch, he hopped down from the footstool. “Took long enough,” he said disparagingly. “Well,” he said, looking at Hermione and the others with a dismissive glance. “I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose. At least you won’t be in Slytherin,” he said with a sneer.

Scootaloo handed her rucksack to Harry and took the boy’s place. She managed to keep a straight face until the bell at the front of the store tinkled to indicate he had left. “Wow,” she said, “What. A. Jerk.” The others all tittered while Harry shook his head.

However, before the seamstress could get started, Rarity came over. “That won’t be necessary, my dear,” she said to the witch. “Just provide me with one each of a colt and filly’s robe.” The witch looked at her blankly as Madam Malkin looked up sharply.

“I meant, boy’s and girl’s,” Rarity explained. “I’m a professional fashion designer and seamstress. All I need is a template.”

Madam Malkin was getting a bit red in the face, Harry saw. She was not happy at being upstaged in her own shop.

Oblivious to the witch’s reaction, Rarity held out a sash she had taken from a display. “What material is this? It’s absolutely marvellous! Do you have a bolt or two of it?”

The seamstress blinked, taken off guard by the question. “It’s acromantula silk. It’s very expensive, though. I think I might have an unused bolt.” She looked at the door to her stockroom.

“Does it take dye colours well?”

Madam Malkin nodded.

“Wonderful!” said a delighted Rarity. “I’ll take all you have!” She paused a moment in thought.

“And can you get me more bolts? Princess Luna would look absolutely stunning in a midnight-blue dress made from this! And I could make a matching dress in Princess Celestia’s day colours!” She stopped and smirked, “And Princess Twilight will have to beat off the stallions with a stick!” she snickered as the fillies exchanged excited looks. “Oh, this is so exhilarating! This flows so well!” She dragged the material across her arm and shivered. “I can make it look like an extension of their manes! This will cement my position as the premiere fashion designer in . . . ,” she caught herself, “. . . at home!” She spun in place. “I can hardly wait for the next Grand Galloping Gala at the Palace!”

She stopped in mid-spin and fixed the shopkeeper with a stare. “How long is a bolt?” She didn’t notice the Grangers and Professor McGonagal staring at her as they listened.

The witch replied, “Forty yards.”

Rarity frowned, “How long is a yard?”

The witch held her hands apart.

Rarity nodded, frowning, as she calculated. She looked back at the seamstress. “How soon can you get me ten bolts, with a reasonable retail mark-up, of course.”

Madam Malkin stared back at her. “That’s four hundred galleons a bolt!” she said after a moment. “And you want ten?” This strange woman was offering her what amounted to twenty year’s wages for a shop clerk — in one sale! “A week, I think?”

It was Rarity’s turn to frown. She turned to Sweetie Belle. “Dear, do you think you could loan me the funds for this until I can get more bits transferred over?”

Sweetie Belle shrugged. “Sure. How much do you need?”

Rarity turned to the seamstress, “Would two thousand up front be acceptable? And I’ll take the one bolt you have on hand?”

The witch nodded numbly. Her sales-witch stood nearby and stared, eyes wide at the sums being tossed around.

Sweetie Belle pulled her wallet out, started to open it, and then stopped uncertainly. “Uh, how do we do this? Two thousand coins is an awful lot. Do I just pour them out onto the floor?”

Madam Malkin blinked a couple of times, then said, “Oh. You’ve never used one of Gringotts’ wallets before?” If she was surprised that the older witch was asking the younger one for such a substantial loan, she hid it well.

The girl nodded, “That’s right.”

Madam Malkin smiled. “It’s really easy for something like this. Just open the wallet and say into it, ‘Transfer two thousand galleons to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions shop account as down-payment on four thousand four hundred galleons for eleven bolts of acromantula silk, I will be taking one bolt with me when I leave. Transaction complete.’ You want to make sure to add any information that might be important in such transaction, such as if it is a down-payment and if you are taking anything with you. That way, when you review your accounts later there will be that additional information to remind you of precisely what you were doing in that transaction.”

The shopkeeper said it a second time, slower, with Sweetie Belle carefully repeating it into the wallet. A moment later, there was a loud DING from the register at the front of the shop. Madam Malkin hurried over to it and then returned, smiling broadly. “Perfect!” she said. “Now let me get that bolt for you.” She headed into her stockroom and returned a moment later with the four-foot-long bolt of cloth.

“Here you go . . . Miss?”

“Rarity. And this is my sister Sweetie Belle. That’s Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger,” she said as she pointed at each.

Both the shopkeeper and the sales-clerk stared at Harry for a moment. Madam Malkin shook her head briefly, and said “And here’s a receipt for you listing the purchase. I’ll owl you when the other ten bolts get here. What’s the address?” She noted it down, frowning. “A muggle address, so I’ll make sure the owl goes at night. Okay?”

Rarity gave her sister a hug after putting the shrunken bolt in Sweetie Belle’s rucksack, as well as the two sample sets of robes — gratis for making such a large purchase. “Thank you, dear.” Sweetie Belle hugged her back with a soft, “Anytime, sis.”

The fashion-designer turned to the other mares, “And don’t any of you tell Twilight, either! I want to surprise her with this.” The agreement came with many eye-rolls and a bit of grandstanding by Dash that, “Of course, I won’t tell Twilight.”

The Grangers silently listened, eyes wide at the revelation that the nice young woman they had met and were shopping with was a princess! Professor McGonagall hid it better, but she, too, had noticed Rarity’s slip. Harry sighed. That secret hadn’t lasted long. The ponies hadn’t even been with the wizards and witches here a full day!

Just as they were leaving the shop, Twilight caught up with them. She did not look happy.

“Woah thar, Twilight,” Applejack said on seeing her friend, “Is every thin’ alright?

Twilight took a deep breath and looked over at the colt. “The Goblins have told me that there is basically nothing we can do about those books, Harry.”

Harry stared at her, stunned. “Nothing?” he repeated breathlessly.

“It seems,” she growled, “that your magical guardian, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, has given them permission to produce those books.” A small smile graced her lips, “However, the Goblins suggested a strategy. Starting tomorrow, and every day for a week, we will be running a full-page ad in the four largest circulation newspapers in Wizarding Britain declaring the books to be complete and total fabrications, published without your personal knowledge or permission. That the only thing factual about them is your name. And that you have received not a single solitary bit from their publication. Not to mention that they’re making profit off the fact that you were orphaned that terrible night ten years ago and had to grow up never knowing your parents.”

It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. Hopefully, that would kill the market for those books. He doubted it, though. However, if he ever had the chance he was going to let that Albus bloke know his displeasure! He frowned, wondering if this Albus was related to Headmaster Dumbledore. His frown deepened. It was highly unlikely that there were two Albus Dumbledore’s in the wizarding world. Just hearing that name spoken made him . . . angry for some reason.

Harry shook his head to get the bad thoughts out. “Thank you for trying,” he said.

Twilight smiled, “Anytime, Harry, anytime. I just wish I could do more.”

The girls had rotated positions again, with Apple Bloom acting as rear guard.

Their next stop was a shop named simply, Ollivanders. Below it was: Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c.

۸- ̰ -۸

Author's Note

In 1991 the average non-menial worker in Great Britain earned about £20,000 a year. The official exchange rate in 1991 for Gold bullion was approximately £200 per one troy ounce, which is what a galleon seems to be. Thus, the average yearly wizard’s salary was 100 galleons. (If the wizards earned significantly more than that, the wizards would move to the muggle-side simply for the luxuries they could afford while still working in the wizard world — even the discount charges from the Goblins would still make it cheaper to live as a muggle while working as a wizard. That is, if you could work at your present job and live in a location where you could rent a house with all the luxuries you wanted instead of a single-room efficiency apartment near where you worked, for the same cost, where would you live?)

Which means that buying a wand at five galleons (the canon price) was more than two weeks salary! It’s clear to see why the Weasleys are so poor. With four children in school, soon to be five, the supplies would eat up most of Arthur’s salary! (If you haven’t heard, J.K. Rowling has declared that attendance at Hogwarts is free – no tuition or boarding costs.)

The most expensive cloth in the world is from Vucana sheep at ~$2,000-$3,000 a yard.

And if you notice any formating errors, please tell me. For some reason, starting last week, copying the chapters from MS Word turns everything into one paragraph. Tedious and annoying to fix.

27 — It’s Bigger on the Inside

Ollivanders was a rather small shop, but somehow, as they all filed in, it seemed to accommodate them without overcrowding. A bell tinkled somewhere in the back of the shop. All of them except Professor McGonagall stared around at the thousands of small narrow boxes stacked right to the ceiling and that crowded the shelves behind the counter. It was preternaturally quiet and Harry could hear himself breathing. Magic seemed to fill the small shop thick enough to almost taste.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Startling them all, an old man was abruptly standing behind the counter. His wide, pale, watery eyes shone like silvery moons through the gloom of the shop.

He looked at Harry, but only in passing as he studied each of the Equestrians in turn. His gaze lingered on Twilight. Twilight’s hair seemed to have gained volume and for a moment Harry thought he saw it waving gently, as if in a breeze. But when he blinked and looked again, it wasn’t moving.

Then the old wand-maker spotted Professor McGonagall. “Minerva! Minerva McGonagall! Third time this year, isn’t it? No difficulties with your wand, I trust?”

She gave him a small smile, “Hello as well, Mr. Ollivander. And yes it’s still serving me well. I have five for you today.” She nudged Harry forward.

“Ah yes,” said the old man, turning his gaze on the young boy. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”*

Mr. Ollivander stepped around the counter. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

“Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”*

Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

“And that’s where . . . .”

Mr. Ollivander reached toward the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. Harry stepped back. The old man stopped, his finger pointing.

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . .”*

He shook his head sadly.

“Well, Mr. Potter, which is your wand arm?”

Harry frowned, he had to stop and think. After all, he had spent the last year in Equestria on all fours and being left or right handed had been a non-issue because he had used his magic for almost everything that would have involved hands. Finally, he said, “I’m right-handed.”

He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons.”* The mares again shuddered. The Grangers and Professor McGonagall were frowning slightly at the mares’ reactions, clearly wondering why.

“No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.*

“Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander,” Harry said, pulling off his rucksack and setting it on the counter. “I was wondering if you could make me a wand using these.” He pulled a small square of paper from the rucksack and carefully unfolded it. Curled inside were three hairs, each longer than his arm. One of was a deep midnight blue that bordered on black, with occasional bright sparks that randomly drifted into view and then disappeared. The second was a brilliant rainbow of yellows that seemed to glow and pulse with the light of the sun. The third one was a light purple that seemed to shimmer without moving. He then pulled out a long piece of wood, an eighteen-inch long by one-inch diameter piece of a tree branch, which barely fit in the rucksack with all the coins, and placed it beside the paper.

Ollivander was in front of him almost immediately. He stared at the three hairs and the wood.

Harry pulled the ends of the midnight blue and yellow hairs off the paper. “These are from two alicorns, sisters.” He pointed at the third. “That one is also from an alicorn, recently ascended, and unrelated to the other two.” After a brief pause, he added, “An alicorn is a winged unicorn.”

“Yes,” said the old wand-maker quietly.

Harry pointed at the wooden piece on the counter. “And this is from a living tree that housed a library.” Twilight smirked beside Harry. He heard Hermione, behind them, gasp. He twisted and looked back at her, “Twilight and I used to live there.”

There was a second gasp, and a weak, envious, “You lived in a library?”

The wand-maker didn’t appear to be breathing as he stared at the hairs and wood. Carefully, he pushed the purple hair to one side. “This would be incompatible with the other two,” he whispered. Likewise he pushed away the small branch from the remains of the Golden Oaks Library. “No, no,” he said softly, “Only cocobolo wood will do for these two.” He looked up sharply at Harry. “They were freely given?”

Harry nodded, “I didn’t even ask for them, they just sent them to me.”

“Powerful, very powerful,” muttered the old man looking at the hairs. “It will take seven days,” he said looking back up at Harry.

Harry nodded.

“What would you like done with the excess? A wand will only use a third of these lengths.”

Harry shrugged. “You can keep it. I’m sure they don’t want them back.”

The wand-maker slowly nodded, then gently took the two alicorn hairs and set them on a wooden tray he produced from under the counter.

Mr. Ollivander turned to Sweetie Belle, but before he could ask which was her wand arm, she laid a hair on the counter. “This is from a unicorn. I would like to use it.” Rarity was grinning happily. “And it was freely given.” She grinned up at her sister.

Ollivander spent a long time staring at the hair, Sweetie Belle, and Rarity before he nodded respectfully to the mare. “Yes, I can see that it will suit you perfectly,” he said to Sweetie Belle. He carefully wrapped it back up in its paper envelope and placed it on another wooden tray.

Apple Bloom placed one of her sister’s hairs on the counter, with a piece of wood. “This is fresh from the first apple tree planted on our farm by my great-great-great-grandfather. And the hair is from an earth-pony. Both freely given.”

The wand-maker stared at Applejack, who wasn’t bothering to hide her proud smile. He nodded, again respectfully, to the mare. “Yes, a perfect match,” he said to the filly.

Scootaloo was next, placing a bright blue feather and matching hair, both of which seemed to simmer with a rainbow of colours. She said, happily, “A feather and hair from the fastest Pegasus in . . . ,”

Apple Bloom kicked her in the ankle.

“OW! . . . in the world,” she finished awkwardly, glaring at Bloom as she rubbed her ankle.

The old man stared at Rainbow Dash, taking in her outrageous hair style and the way she was bouncing up and down on her toes, grinning like a fool. He slowly nodded.

“We will just need to find the appropriate piece of wood for your wand,” he said to the filly.

He looked over at Pinkie Pie, who was noshing on a muffin she hadn’t had in hand when they walked in. Eyes twinkling, she held out her other hand and offered him a cupcake. Slowly, not taking his eyes off of hers, he reached out and took the pastry. “Thank you,” he whispered.

The Grangers and Professor McGonagall were watching this closely, especially the professor. Harry shook his head slightly at her expression. Hadn’t she seen someone bring in their own magical cores for a wand before?

Hermione stared at the wand boxes behind the counter, and at the four trays and their contents, with a wistful expression. Harry thought she was disappointed at not being able to have a special wand. He remembered how her devotion to books reminded him of Twilight.

He nudged Twilight and handed her the hair and library tree wood and nodded at Hermione. Twilight shrugged, but smiled. She had no use for one of her hairs, and the wood was simply one of the pieces left over from her beloved library. If the young human girl could make use of it in a wand, then Harry couldn’t see why she wouldn’t let the girl do so. It would be her library tree living on, used by someone who loved books as much as she did. Perhaps it would give Hermione as much happiness as the library had given Twilight..

“Hermione,” she said quietly, “here.” She held out both the hair and the wood. “I’d like you to have these, if you want them.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Did that wood really come from a tree with a library in it?” she asked breathlessly as she took the two proffered items.

Twilight nodded. “Yes, it’s over three hundred years old.”

Mr. Granger spoke up, “The tree or the library?”

Twilight smiled again, a bit sadly, “Why, both!”

Hermione turned to her parents, “Can I?”

They shrugged. “Sure,” her father said, “If no one has an objection.”

Ollivander looked at Twilight, “Are you freely giving these gifts to this young witch with your blessings?”

“Of course,” the disguised alicorn said, smiling a bit sadly.

The wand-maker turned to the girl and studied her carefully. He said, “You are receiving a triple-blessed wand, take care of it and it will take care of you.”

She looked back at him, nodding slowly, and frowning at his choice of words.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Ollivander said to the adults, “Come with me,” he said, and indicated Harry, Sweetie, and Scoots as he gathered and stacked the trays, and led them into the back room of the shop.

As they entered the small workshop, he said, “I want each of you to walk along the wall there,” he pointed to one wall of the shop which had dozens of boxes, “and hold your wand arm out over the boxes as you walk by them. There is no hurry. When you feel a pull, note which box it is and keep walking. If you don’t feel any other pulls, go back to the box and bring me the piece of wood that calls out to you the most. If you feel another pull elsewhere, pick the one with the strongest pull.”

As the three slowly walked along the wall, Twilight, who had followed them back, said, “Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander? Could you make me a wand?”

He stared at her, startled. “You want me to make you a wand?”

She smiled nervously, “Yeah, I’d like to experiment with using a wand.”

“Using one of your hairs, of course,” he stated.

“Well, unless there’s a reason I shouldn’t?”

He waved her over to the boxes of wood.

Soon there were four pieces of wood on his worktable.

He took a long look at the first piece. “Ah, Mr. Potter, I knew it would be cocobolo wood for you; sun and moon, capable of handling much power, and very resilient!”

He turned to the next piece of raw wood. “Dogwood for you, Miss Belle; swishy, with an affinity for loyalty and protection.” He nodded his head approvingly. Sweetie Belle blushed under the praise.

“Miss Scootaloo, you have Monterillo; a rare, pliable wood and perfect for those with strength, courage, and determination.” Scootaloo grinned happily.

“And Miss Sparkle, Gaboon Ebony, a truly diverse swishy wood that works well with earth, fire, wind and water — an excellent selection for all magics.” He stared at Twilight for a long moment as Twilight hopped from foot to foot in delight. Harry knew that if she were still a pony she would be doing one of her famous running-in-place dances.

She reached up to her hair, plucked one, and held it out to the wand-maker.

As he took the almost three-foot long hair from her hand it changed from solid black to a purple shimmer as the spell changing her hair colour faded out. He blinked, and then set it reverently beside the piece of wood she had chosen.

“I will start on these this afternoon,” he said softly.

He led them back to the front.

“You may pay me when you pick up your wands. They will be ready in seven days, but not before lunchtime. The cost will be three galleons each, with a one galleon deposit. The extra length of the hairs offsets some of the cost.”

As they were preparing to leave, Mr. Ollivander bowed low to the Equestrian adults and said, “Thank you, for the honour you give me in choosing my humble shop and allowing me to serve you.”

Rarity smiled him, “Thank you for your kind words and excellent service. We will recommend your shop to everypony we know.” She blinked, then said, “I mean everyone we know.”

They began to file outside.

“I need a few words with Mr. Ollivander. School business, you know. I’ll meet you at Truckle’s Trunks, it’s just down the Alley. See it?” Professor McGonagall pointed at the small shop on the other side of the street from them only a short distance away.

Harry and the fillies stopped and watched as Pinkie was about to leave the shop. She paused, then stepped back to the old wand-maker. Harry watched as Pinkie held out her hand, a long pink hair dangling and tightly coiled in a spiral, like a spring. He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “You’ll need this for a wand, you’ll know to whom it belongs.”

Ollivander reached toward it with his thumb and forefinger, but she moved her hand and draped it over his wrist instead. The hair fell and then seemed to wrap around his wrist like a bracelet. She giggled, grabbed Scootaloo’s arm, and pulled the herd-mates out of the shop, hurrying to catch up with the others.

No sooner did the door close than the professor turned to the old wizard.

“What in Merlin’s name was all that about?” she demanded.

“In the almost two thousand and four hundred years that Ollivanders has been making wands,” Ollivander explained tersely, his eyes still looking at his new bracelet, “no god, goddess, or avatar of the same has ever passed through our doors, yet today two goddesses and four avatars walked into my shop. I have no knowledge of anyone ever having an avatar or goddess give them a hair or feather for a wand. Yet today I saw hairs from the Goddesses of the Sun and Moon freely given to Harry Potter for the core of his wand.” He stared at her unblinking. “In addition, the avatars of Air, Earth, and the Muses gave their relatives a feather and hairs, respectively, to use in their wands. A fledgling goddess of Magic gave a hair, and wood from her very home, to a muggle-born.” He continued to stare at Professor McGonagall as her mouth went dry at the implications of what he had just told her. “Plus, the Goddess of Magic wants me to make her a wand!”

He turned from the shocked witch and looked at the cupcake sitting in the middle of his counter, and held up his wrist with its new bracelet. “And the Goddess of Joy has given me two gifts.” He looked back up at her. “Leave. I have much to think about. And do.”

The shop’s magic fairly pushed her to the door. No sooner had she stepped outside than she heard the door close and lock behind her. The curtains on his windows silently slammed shut, and the OPEN sign now read CLOSED.

She had to tell Albus, immediately! She looked around quickly, then quickly cast a silencing spell around herself. Not a moment later a silvery cat was crouched in front of the witch as she bent down to speak to it.

As the cat bounded out of sight, the professor briefly pressed her hand to her forehead. She could feel the onset of a headache. She sighed and dismissed the silencing spell. She looked up the street and started off towards the groups’ next stop.

۸- ̰ -۸

Truckle’s Trunks, like everything else in the Alley, looked like a small dingy shabby shop from the outside, yet the inside was bigger and brighter than one could expect. There were stacks of trunks everywhere. One wall had a stack from floor to ceiling of what appeared to be the same style trunk: black with wooden rails around the edges at the ends and two around the middle. There was one open on the floor and it looked to be about three by two by one foot in size with a handle at each end. It had a small sign that simply read, “Hogwarts.”

There were other smaller stacks of three or four on the opposite wall with another stack in the middle of the room. What differentiated those trunks, though, were the signs. “Closet,” “Single with Closet,” “Two Rooms,” and “Deluxe Apartment,” were the ones he could immediately pick out before the shop-clerk arrived in answer to the door’s bell.

“Good morning,” he happily proclaimed. “I’m Mister Truckle, the proprietor of this fine establishment.” He grinned happily at seeing so many customers at once.

Twilight spoke up first. “Hi! I’m Twilight Sparkle . . . ,” and she proceeded to introduce everyone. “Professor McGonagall will be joining us in a moment, she said this was the next stop for the day.”

“Excellent!” the shopkeeper said, “How many of you need a Hogwarts’ trunk? Five?” he said, looking at the children as he walked over to the wall with all the trunks.

Twilight nodded. “Yes.”

He pulled out his wand and started to levitate the trunks down.

“Excuse me,” interrupted Rarity, “Could you tell me more about these?” She waved at the other trunk stacks.

Professor McGonagall walked in then, and nodded in greeting to the others.

He finished pulling down the five trunks and walked over to her. “These trunks,” he explained, “all have extensive undetectable expansion charms cast on them. They are for the more seasoned traveller who expects to be places where appropriate accommodations might not be available, or they need more room for their things than would normally fit in a standard trunk.” He smiled at her. “There are even a few full apartments,” he pointed at the stack with the sign that said Deluxe Apartments, “for the intrepid traveller who strays far from the normal paths but wants comfortable accommodations regardless of their surroundings. A literal home-away-from-home.”

Rarity cast a glance at the other mares. “We could have used one of those a couple of times in the last two years, right ladies?” She walked over to the Deluxe Apartment stack with Mr. Truckle following eagerly behind her.

“These all have a sitting-room, bedroom, closet, full bathroom with shower and tub, and kitchen with all the modern Wizarding appliances.” He slipped into sales mode. “I can adjust the room sizes to your needs. The room colours can be altered as you please. Every trunk has impervious charms on it, as well as full security charms. Only people you authorize can enter it, and you can’t be locked inside. Runes provide for air, water, and the disposal of wastes.

“They come with feather-weight charms for easy carrying, as well as shrinking charms for even easier transport.” He looked at Rarity expectantly. “And all at reasonable rates.”

Sweetie Belle looked up at her sister. “You always say to go with quality and get the best, as scrimping now will simply cost you more, later.” She stopped a beat as her sister nodded. “We should each get one as well. They’ll be real convenient back home.” Sweetie looked over at the shopkeeper. “We’ll need extra-large bathtubs, though.” She made a face. “I have no doubt we’ll run into problems cleaning off sap if we don’t.” The other fillies and Harry nodded agreement while the Grangers, the professor, and the shopkeeper looked puzzled.

Sensing an opportunity, and after an odd look at Sweetie Belle, the wizard said to Rarity, “If you intend to buy several, I can install a private Floo-network that would allow you to travel between the trunks as long as there isn’t an anti-Floo spell imposed between them. That way, no matter how far apart you are, you can always meet up with each other at your convenience.”

Rarity looked at Twilight with wide eyes. “You could put one of these at the your parent's house, keep the other in your castle, and be able to see your parents or Princess Celestia whenever you want! No more long train trips.”

“Or visit the Royal Library,” Twilight breathed out. She started hopping in place again.

Applejack laughed, “Or your brother in the Crystal Empire!”

They all turned wide-eyed expressions on Applejack. “Or your cousins in Appleoosa,” replied Rarity.

“So,” Rarity said slowly, “Twilight needs three, Applejack needs two, Fluttershy needs one, I need one, Pinkie Pie needs one . . . ,”

“Three,” called Pinkie, poking her head out of one of the Hogwarts trunks still stacked against the wall, “I want one for Maude and one for my family on our rock farm.”

“Pinkie needs three, and Rainbow Dash needs one, and the Princesses need two — it would be terribly gauche to give one to Princess Celestia and not to Princess Luna as well. And Harry and the fillies need four total.”

Rainbow Dash said, “Why would I need one, I’m the fastest —”

Without looking and keeping her smile, Twilight kicked Dash in the ankle, making Dash yelp.

Rarity spoke up, “Dash, there might be times you want to visit one of us without spending hours racing across the country.”

Rainbow Dash, bent down and rubbed her sore ankle, scowling. She said, “Well, still, it’s gonna be expensive and . . . .”

“Aren’t you forgetting,” interrupted Twilight, “that the Princesses are paying for this?”

“Ah,” said Dash, looking chagrined, “yes.”

“I’m sorry,” interrupted the shopkeeper, “But any trunks purchased for Hogwarts’ students are not allowed to have functioning Floo connections and must include the Hogwarts Lockout.”

They all looked at him, the questions evident in their expressions.

“The Floo restriction is a security issue for Hogwarts, you see,” he said with a nervous look and smile at Professor McGonagall, “and the Hogwarts’ Lockout means only one student at a time can be in the trunk.”

“Why only one student,” asked Sweetie Belle, “What if we want to study together? Or take a bath?” she spared a glance at the professor who was keeping a carefully nondescript expression. “I’m positive that we’ll end up in sap sometime in the next seven years and trying to get it off by yourself is well-neigh impossible.” The Equestrians and Harry all nodded, while the others, again, looked puzzled.

“Oh, well,” Truckle said, looking uncomfortable. “It’s to prevent students from doing things they shouldn’t.”

Again he was on the receiving end of puzzled expressions. Harry thought the professor was trying not to smile at Truckle’s difficulties.

“You know,” he tried again, “for the older students? So they don’t get together for inappropriate activities?”

Mr Granger raised his eyebrows. He seemed to be getting an inkling of what the wizard was trying to impart.

Another round of blank expressions led the shopkeeper to continue, “Um, snogging? Sucking face? Tonsil tennis?” he suggested weakly.

The Grangers understood the snogging reference, with the parents nodding and Hermione saying, “Ewww,” and making a face of disgust.

The Equestrians were still puzzled.

Finally, in a half whisper and a nervous glance at the younger customers, he leaned closer to the adults and half-whispered, “Sex.”

The mares all looked at each other and said, “Ooohh!” Then they looked over at the fillies and Harry with curious expressions.

The fillies looked at each other, then at Harry with calculating expressions. Harry meanwhile, said, “Oookaayy,” with a wondering and puzzled expression.

Public courting between mares and stallions was common in Equestria — with a ratio of three mares to every stallion it was usually the mares chasing the stallions. And being very forward about it. Unlike Earth, the stallions were the shy and retiring ones in relationships, waiting for the mares to make the first moves and run the relationships. And seeing two, three, or even four mares courting a stallion wasn’t unusual. Nothing inappropriate — or at least what ponies considered inappropriate — ever happened in public, of course. But Harry knew of several fillies and colts exploring whether they had found their special somepony yet. He considered himself fortunate that the fillies were keeping themselves to the “trying to carry his books” stage.

Not that he disliked any of them, he liked them a lot, as a matter of fact. He just knew he wasn’t ready for anything more than that. And waking in a pony pile during sleepovers at the clubhouse was something he enjoyed doing — it was comforting to not be isolated and alone all night. Getting his own room in the castle had been a mixed blessing. His own room, but alone all night without the reassuring presence of either Spike or Twilight.

Having to choose one of the three would be impossible. And he was terrified that if he chose one, then the other two would hate him. It was better not to think on it at all.

For some reason, Twilight and the other mares were snickering.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

A.N. * italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

This chapter will engender much debate, I don't doubt. So, for your consideration:

A. Alicorns are apparently immortal.

B. Celestia and Luna can control the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars in their universe.

C. Twilight is apparently the alicorn in control of magic.

D. Pinkie Pie, while not an alicorn, can do things that none of the alicorns can do, or even understand (breaking the Fourth Wall and causality).

By most definitions used by humans, and with the conditions set in A–D above, those ponies mentioned in A–D would be considered gods.

And, finally, just because someone states something is true (in the story) does not necessarily make it so. Ponies, wizards, witches, and people can be mistaken about what they perceive the truth to be.

28 — Clowning Around

Author's Note

400 LIKES! YEAH! (July 20, 2018)

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Now for 500!

28 — Clowning Around

Rarity looked back at Truckle, the shopkeeper. “Thank you for that information.” She looked at the others and said, “We’ll take seventeen of the deluxe trunks with extra-large baths, and five of the Hogwarts’ trunks for our students, if you please.”

Truckle choked a second, coughed, and then said, “Seventeen of the Deluxe trunks and five of the standard Hogwarts’ trunks, did I hear that right?”

She nodded, adding, “I assume there is a bulk discount rate?”

He stared at her calm expression, then cleared his throat. “Would you like to tour a sample deluxe trunk so you can tell me the room sizes you want?” He waved his wand and a quill and book floated over from the counter. A second wave and a trunk behind the counter lifted up and floated over to him. “Just step inside and the elevator will take you straight down,” he continued, opening the trunk and doing just that.

They peered over the edge into the trunk and could see him at least twelve feet below them.

He stepped off the marked rectangle on the floor below, and abruptly the bottom of the trunk was back in place. They exchanged looks and then Twilight stepped over the edge into the trunk. Watching as she was lowered into the trunk was a bit strange.

It took a few minutes for them all to make the trip. Pinkie Pie made faces at them, and pretended to be drowning.

The elevator was tucked into a corner and had a waist-high wall that swung open when they reached the floor. The wizard was already talking to the Equestrians, as the students arrived, about the sitting-room dimensions, which was currently twenty-by-twenty feet.

“As you can see,” the sales-wizard said walking to a door on the wall across the sitting-room, to their left. “This is the door to the bedroom,” he said, leading them inside. “It’s twenty-by-twenty feet.” He pointed to a door on their right in the far corner. “That’s the closet, currently it is eight-by-eight feet.” He pointed to a second door on the same wall but closer to them. “That leads to the bathroom.”

The bathroom was twelve-by-twelve foot space, with a wall mirror above two sinks by the door on the right-side wall. The toilet had its own small six-by-six room at the far end of the room and by the sinks. The tub and shower were in opposite corners of the wall in common with the closet.

“This second door, here,” he pointed to the door between the toilet room and the sinks, “leads to the kitchen.” Which was another room that was twenty-by-twenty feet.

Harry got the impression that the undetectable expansion charm was a flat forty-by-forty feet that the shopkeeper simply sub-divided as needed with walls. Professor McGonagall was looking around intently, studying what she could detect of the spells being used. Was this the first time she had been in one of the Deluxe Apartment trunks?

With some discussion, and the fillies’ quiet insistence that the tub be big enough for them all when they got home, the bathroom and bedroom closet were the only rooms with any changes. The closet was reduced to a depth of six feet and expanded to eight feet wide. Mr. Truckle substituted what he called a ten-person hot tub option — eight-by-nine feet in size and forty-inches deep — for the regular tub and put it in the far right-hand corner. The toilet room and shower, side-by-side and both eight feet deep by seven feet wide, now occupied the formerly empty space behind the closet. Which left the two sinks on the wall shared with the kitchen, and open shelves opposite them on the closet wall for towels and bathroom sundries. The door to the kitchen separated the sinks from the hot tub. In total, the bathroom now occupied the entirety of its twenty-by-twenty-foot space, except for the closet.

Once they were all back in the shop, the wizard told them, “It’ll take me a couple of hours to process all the trunks, especially the three triple-sized trunks. The total will be,” he referred to his receipt book, “two thousand, eight hundred galleons, twelve sickles, and twenty knuts with the bulk discount rate.”

Harry frowned as he calculated. Based on what Professor McGonagall had told them yesterday, the average wizard earned about one hundred galleons a year. That meant each deluxe trunk was well over two year’s salary. Harry would bet the wizard had never sold that many apartment trunks, ever.

Twilight nodded, frowning, as she pulled out her wallet. “I hope the Goblins give us a good price on our gems.”

Rainbow Dash smirked and said, “I’m sure the fillies would be happy to give you a loan.”

“Maybe you should go with Rare and pick up a few of those big gems,” Sweetie Belle said. “The Goblins seemed to like the magic ones better.”

Twilight hummed lightly, obviously considering that plan while giving Rainbow Dash a dirty look.

Immediately after the register dinged to indicate acceptance of the payment, Mr. Granger stepped up. “We’ll take one of the standard Hogwarts trunks.”

“Oh, no, dear,” Rarity said, touching him on the arm. “That’s why we bought five standard trunks. The fifth one is for Hermione.”

“Oh, we couldn’t let you do that,” said Mrs. Granger. “You barely know us. It wouldn’t be right. The gift of the wand materials was too much as it is.”

“Nonsense,” Rarity said, waving her hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t think of not giving you a trunk when we’re buying in bulk. With the discount, the student trunks are free at that price.”

Mr. Granger looked about ready to object again when Rainbow Dash said, “You’re gonna lose that argument. It’s just the way she is. She won’t be happy until you say, ‘yes.’” Harry and the fillies were all nodding in agreement. “And, as she said, with the discount, the student trunks are basically free,” finished Dash. “So, if she’s giving you something that she got for free, how can that be expensive?”

Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged looks, then Mr. Granger turned to Rarity, “Thank you for your generosity. If there’s anything we can do for you, just ask.”

Rarity just smiled.

The wizard said, “Now, then, it will take me a few hours to prepare that many trunks, so if you could come back after three, everything should be ready.”

The professor watched Rarity intently as they left the store for their next stop, Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Fluttershy was mobbed the moment she walked in the door behind Rainbow Dash. The owls were polite, but it was just like her home in Equestria, the birds just had to come over and say hello. Two managed to stand on her head, with one more on each shoulder. When she lifted her arm to shoo away the creatures, three more landed on it. Dash, Rarity, Twilight, Applejack, and the Grangers were just as quickly used as stands so the birds could be close to the new friend. The one that tried to land on Pinkie’s head almost disappeared into her hair before it could take off again. The remainder were quick to notice and refrained from repeating the first one’s mistake.

Instead they used the girls and Harry as portable stands.

“Here, now! Stop that!” said a Wizard behind the shop counter, waving his hands as he marched out onto the sales-floor. “Back to your perches! You know you aren’t supposed to pester customers!”

Fluttershy was smiling broadly, “Oh, it’s alright,” she said, looking at the inquisitive birds. “They’re just saying hello.” She stroked one’s head with a finger, “Aren’t you, beautiful?” She stroked the sides of the ones resting on her arm. “But, as the pony . . . man said, back to your perches!” She lifted her arm slightly. With a soft, disappointed hoot they took off.

She quickly went to the others adorning her friends, offering a quick stroke of their feathers before urging them to leave.

“I’m soo sorry,” said the man, “I’m Eeylops, the owner, and I’ve never seen my owls do anything like this before!” He glared at the owls still decorating his new customers.

Professor McGonagall was careful to note everything that happened.

“Don’t worry about it,” Twilight said dismissively. “Things like that happen all the time to Fluttershy.”

Abruptly aware of the man’s attention, Fluttershy ducked behind Dash even as she continued to pet and shoo the owls back to their perches.

Turning his attention back to Twilight, he said, “All my owls are post trained and spelled. They’ll never get lost and can find anyone not behind an owl-ward. They’re fast and convenient, house-trained, and always come when called. Plus, they know to wait for dark before delivering to muggle neighbourhoods so they don’t attract attention.

“And as most of my customers say, ‘They’re dead useful, they are!’”

Harry and the fillies nodded. They remembered Professor McGonagall talking about the owls. “Most wizards and witches use owls for communication,” she had explained the night she had first met them at Magnolia Road. “They’re fast and reliable. And with shrinking charms they can carry quite large items. All are intelligent enough to understand if you live in a Muggle area, and, as a result, will only pickup or deliver mail when they won’t be easily observed, typically just before sunrise or after sunset under the cover of darkness. The muggles would think it quite strange if you had owls showing up at home at all hours of the day, after all.”

“I have the finest owl feed and treats on the market and offer a wide range of perches, as you can see.” The shopkeeper waved his arm across the shop, where hundreds of perches were on display or in boxes. The displays all had one or two owls on them.

“If you have any questions,” he concluded, “please feel free to ask. Either I or my assistants will be happy to help you.”

Pinkie was already at the back of the shop and appeared to be sharing slices of apples with the owls. The shopkeeper gave her a puzzled look.

“I have a question, sir,” Harry said. “Why don’t you just spell the owls to look like pigeons or swallows to non-magicals? Wouldn’t that solve the problem of them being seen as unusual during the day? And allow for more efficient delivery of mail?”

The man stared at him for several moments, blinking. “Spell the owls to look like swallows?” he said, more to himself than anyone else. He frowned and put his hand on his chin. “No, a spell would wear off after a time.” His eyes opened a bit wider. “But if I used ambient-powered runes on a metal leg band . . . .” He shook his head and looked back at Harry. “Why that’s a wonderful idea, my lad! I think I’ll look into it!” He turned and hurried off to his counter, mumbling, “Now, who do I know who’s good at rune work . . . and cheap.”

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t understand how such a simple idea had eluded wizards for so long. Didn’t they have any common sense? And they thought they were superior to him.

Harry didn’t have to look very far for an owl. Instead, he was captivated by the beautiful white owl that had taken residence on his shoulder as soon as he looked at it. “Hello, girl,” he said, only to receive a sharp nip on his ear and disgusted “hoot!”

“Ow!” He rubbed his ear giving the owl a cautious look. “So you’re a boy?”

The owl said, “Hoot!” followed by a satisfied look.

“And you want to be my owl?”

“Hoot!”

Harry had to smile. For the first time, ever, someone wanted to be his friend without ever having met him, or even hearing of him, before now. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” he said, rubbing his finger down the bird’s soft breast feathers.

The owl rubbed his head against Harry’s.

Apple Bloom said, “Well, it looks like you’ve picked out an owl.” She looked at the other three girls. “I think it’s our turn now.” They all nodded and split up.

Scootaloo returned with an owl that looked like it had horns, but Harry knew from Miss Cheerilee’s lessons that it was a Great Horned Owl. It had a dark grey and dark brown colouring with areas of white scattered all over.

Sweetie Belle had an owl that was brown with white spots and black eyes, and its hoots were melancholy short things that sounded almost like a laugh, as if it came from a dog. “It’s a Laughing Owl, according to the tag on its perch,” she said.

Apple Bloom’s owl was an overall ochre-reddish colour, with fine dark spots growing larger towards the tail and on the wings. Its face disc was white, with a brownish tinge between the lower edge of the eyes and the base of the light grey bill, with the whole surrounded by brown. “Accordin’ to mah owl’s perch, he’s a Madagascar Red Owl. Right, Maddy?” The owl responded with a short hissing noise that seemed to be approving.

Before they left the shop’s counter, however, Harry motioned the girls together with their owls. He held his arm out, with his as-yet unnamed owl on it and said, “Okay, you guys can find your way to Sweet Apple Acres, right?” He looked at each of the other owls. They each nodded, with his Snowy White giving him a look of “Well, of course I can, you fool.”

He turned to the clerk. “Could you shrink each of our owl’s things and show us how to attach them properly, and we’ll let them meet us at Apple Bloom’s home.”

“Nothing easier,” said the clerk. “Beats carrying all that stuff through the Alley!”

A short lesson later and the owls were winging their way out of the shop.

As soon as they were out of sight, Harry said, “Maybe we should have given them our other packages as well. . . .” The fillies all shook their heads. “Neigh,” said Sweetie Belle, “We need a wand to undo the shrink charms and nopony at Sweet Apple Acres has one.”

“Ah. You’re right.”

Professor McGonagall addressed them all as they exited the shop, “Our next stop is the Apothecary for potion supplies. It’s down this way.” She pointed and started off in that direction.

As they were passing a shop, Twilight stopped and grabbed Harry by the arm. “One moment, Professor McGonagall!” The witch stopped, as did everyone else. “Harry needs new glasses and here’s an optometrist.” She pointed at a small sign above a door sandwiched between two shops. “We’ll meet at the Apothecary.” She turned and handed her wallet to Applejack. “AJ, will you take care of this?” The transformed pony took the wallet, “Shore thang,” she replied.

Twilight guided Harry to the door and up the carpeted stairs. There was no door at the top, the stairs emptied into a reception room with two walls filled with eyeglass frames. There were two doors in the third wall, one open and revealing a simple room with a chair and desk. The other was likely a restroom.

By the windows that looked out onto the Alley was a desk. A wizard, his feet on the desk and a magazine in his hands sat in a padded reclining chair behind the desk. A notepad and quill rested on the desktop. He must have been concentrating as he only noticed them as they stepped into his office. He sat up, hurriedly shoving the magazine — its cover featured a scantily clad witch, Harry saw — into a desk drawer, and then stood. “Good morning! How can I help you this morning?”

He was of average height, with black hair and brown eyes. He wore a smock over his robes, which were regular business robes. They exchanged introductions.

Twilight smiled at him. “Harry, here,” she put her hand on his shoulder, “needs new glasses. His are very old and broken, as you can see.

The wizard focused on Harry. “Ah, Yes. Well come into the exam room.” He pointed at the open door.

As Harry walked in, the wizard said, “Just sit in the chair. May I see your glasses?”

Harry handed them over.

“Humph. Yes. Definitely need replacing.” He handed them back. “Now, please sit in the chair and look at that chart on the wall. . . .”

The next few minutes passed quickly as the wizard cast a spell, read the results, made some notes on a paper, and started handing Harry a series of eyeglasses and asking questions. Finally, he said, “That’s it then. Let’s go back to the office.”

“As I’m sure you know, Miss Sparkle, Harry here is very near-sighted with some astigmatism. It appears to have been exacerbated by a blow to his head several years back. I’m surprised the healers at St Mungo’s Hospital missed that. They should have cleared this right up.” He eyed Twilight uncertainly. “You did take him there, didn’t you? The blow would have knocked him out completely.”

Twilight smiled sadly. “He wasn’t in my care at the time, or I certainly would have had him properly cared for.”

He nodded, relieved. “He still might have had a touch of near-sightedness, but nothing as severe as it is.” He turned to Harry.

“Now, then, Harry, take a look at these frames and pick whichever one you want to wear.” He pointed to the two walls. “This wall has frames that the witches seem to like.” He indicated the nearer wall

Harry took his time and after a few minutes, and a couple of trips to the mirror, he settled on a black full-frame round pair.

“An excellent choice, Harry.” The wizard took the frames and fitted them on Harry’s face. He pulled out his wand and touched the frames. Harry could feel them change. “There now, they fit perfectly. Now, all my frames come with Forever Prescription, a rune charm that will make the prescription match your eyes no matter how much they change as you grow up. What other charms would you like added?”

Harry exchanged glances with Twilight. “Uh, well, what’s available?”

“Oh, well, for example, if you’re into Quidditch, there’s an impervious runes charm to protect your eyeglasses from breakage. And one to keep your glasses dry, clear, and warm no matter the weather. There’s another to let you see in the dark. And a matching one that makes them darken in bright sunlight so you’ll never need sunglasses.

“One rune charm that almost all wizards and witches choose is a comfort charm so that they are comfortable no matter what position you are in, even asleep. And there are many others that wizards find useful.” He smiled at them.

Harry looked back at Twilight as she looked at him. They both shrugged.

“Everything, I guess,” Harry said.

“Everything?” said the optometrist, clearly taken aback. “That’s quite expensive, almost two hundred galleons. Are you sure?” He looked questioningly at Twilight.

“Sure, why not?” she said.

The wizard pursed his lips. “It’ll take me a while to put the runes on the frames, you won’t be able to take them with you right now,” he said slowly.

They both nodded. “That’s okay,” Twilight said, “He’s lived with these glasses for years, a few more days won’t hurt.”

He sat down behind his desk, pulled out his notes, and started making additions. He opened a drawer, took out a small pamphlet and a receipt book, and started making entries in the receipt book while referring to the pamphlet. After a few minutes he looked up. “All twenty rune charms brings the total to one hundred and ninety-six galleons, ten sickles and five knuts.” He sighed. “I can have these owled to your home tomorrow.” He handed Harry the pamphlet he had been copying from. “Here’s the complete list of what the runes do.”

Twilight looked at Harry, “Use your wallet, I’ll pay you back when we get home.” Harry stuffed the pamphlet in his rucksack. Two minutes later, they were downstairs and hurrying to catch up with their friends.

Through the crowded street as they approached Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, they saw Professor McGonagall bending over a large silver bird. The crowd obscured her for a moment, then she was standing upright and there were no signs of a bird of any kind. Harry hadn’t seen a bird flying off. He wondered if he had imagined seeing the bird.

“Hi,” called the three girls as they came out the door. “Thought ya were gettin’ new glasses?” Apple Bloom said.

Harry grinned, “They’ll be ready tomorrow, the doctor said he’d owl them to me.” And he excitedly explained how his new eyeglasses would be unbreakable, always comfortable, never fall off and lots of other things, too. They didn’t understand his enthusiasm, but that was okay. If it made Harry happy, then they were happy for him.

“Rarity insisted we get the deluxe potions kits and crystal vials,” said Sweetie Belle. “That way we won’t have to buy better equipment later because the standard stuff wears out or breaks.” Harry nodded. He had expected that after the trunk shop.

The cauldron shop was a quick visit and they left with the pewter cauldron required by the letters — except Rarity insisted they get the extra-heavy-duty version. She reasoned that the regular ones were designed to barely meet the minimum requirements and thus would need replacing at some point in their education.

The telescope shop left Harry puzzled. While the telescopes here were beautifully-worked pieces of art, he knew that the muggles had ones that were far better than the ones on display here.

“Twilight?” he said, staring at a brass telescope that must have weighed twenty pounds and was longer than he was tall.

“Yes?”

“I think we should wait on getting telescopes. I think we can find a better ones in London.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“Well, I remember that Dudley used to have a telescope, not a long one that you looked through one end and out the other like these, but what was called a reflecting telescope. It was half the length but double the width of these things.” He gestured at the rack of telescopes. “It had double or triple the resolution of these, and a motor that kept it on target.

“And that was over two years ago.”

Twilight nodded. “Yes, that might be better.” Then she nodded again, firmly. “Yes, let’s do that. We can always come back here if we can’t find what we want.”

With that decision, the group left the store with only Hermione getting a telescope, somewhat bewildering Professor McGonagall. Once outside, the professor said, “Well, that seems to be everything. And considering the time, why don’t we adjourn to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch?”

As they filed into the pub from the Alley, Professor McGonagall said, “It’s fortunate that we finished before the lunchtime crowd arrived. I’ll see where Tom wants us.” She headed over to the barkeep as the rest of the group bunched up in the dining room, waiting. Moments later, Tom came out from behind the bar and led them over to large table.

“Not quite big enough, eh?” he said looking at their group and the table. He pulled out his wand and concentrated, pointing it at the table. He wiggled the wand and said something, and the table grew longer until it was more than big enough to seat them all. Then he tapped his wand on one of the chairs and made several duplicates, enough to fit the newly-enlarged table.

“There now,” he said wiping his forehead with one hand as he put away his wand. “That should last about an hour or two for yeh.”

“Nicely done!” Professor McGonagall said approvingly. “You’ve improved quite a bit since I first started coming here!”

Tom blushed. “I’ve had quite a bit o’ practice on those two,” he mumbled bashfully.

The Equestrians were, frankly, staring at the man, or at least at his bald head. They had never before seen anyone who was bald. Well, they had seen him earlier that morning, but it had been more than a little chaotic so they hadn’t had the time to really look at him.

Pinkie Pie especially seemed captivated. She hopped over to him. “It’s so shiny!” she said. “Were you born this way or did it all fall out later? Do you wish you had hair? Would you like hair? I wonder what I would look like bald? I don’t think I would like to be bald, I’d have to keep my party cannon in my tail. Is . . . .” Whatever else she might have said was lost, fortunately, as Twilight slapped her hand over Pinkie’s mouth.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said to the bartender, “Sometimes she doesn’t know when to stop. She has no control over her mouth. Please forgive her.”

Having hands now, Pinkie reached up and pulled down Twilight’s hand with one. “Ooops. Sorry,” she said to Tom. “Here,” she said, plopping a bright orange wig down on his head. “No, that’s not right!” She shoved a round red ball over his nose. “Better, but not quite.” She held up a giant round pad as big as her head out and hit the poor wizard upside the head with it. A puff of white surrounded him for a moment, then disappeared leaving him a white face with exaggerated black eyebrows and red mouth.

“Perfect,” she declared, stepping back. Twilight and the rest of the Equestrians watched with expressions ranging from horror (Twilight) to amusement (Rainbow Dash) to puzzled (practically everypony else in the pub).

There was a stunned silence for a moment, then the rest of the pub burst out laughing.

“Great new look, there, Tom!”

“That’s hilarious!”

“Love your hair!”

“Pinkie!” Twilight said severely, “Enough of that.”

“Have a cupcake, too,” Pinkie concluded shoving one into his hand.

۸- ̰ -۸

29 — The Naked Lunch

Twilight rolled her eyes at Pinkie's antics and turned her around to face the table. She then pushed her down into a chair, and sat beside her. Harry sat beside Twilight, hoping to head off any misunderstanding for the vegetarian Equestrians. He couldn’t even imagine how they would react to juicy luncheon steak, or even a simple bangers and mash. One visit to a meat counter, and experimenting with bacon at breakfast, wasn’t preparation enough.

After everyone had seated themselves, Harry noticed there were two unoccupied seats. Had the barkeep miscounted them?

Tom was staring, stunned, at the pink-haired woman. He remembered the incredible chaos that this one person had inflicted upon his staid pub just this morning, and now the entire pub was in an uproar again. A happy uproar — he could see one wizard laughing so hard he had tears going down his face and he would swear that one witch was about wet her pants she was laughing so hard — but nothing like his normal, quiet pub. A pub that hadn’t had this many customers in many a year. He turned and went back to the bar. He stopped dead on seeing his reflection in the bar’s mirror. He looked at the reflection of the rest of his pub and the laughing. He shrugged and went behind the bar. He said something to the witch standing in the door to the kitchen, who was trying to stifle her own giggles.

She hurried over to them as the Equestrians settled in around the table. Professor McGonagall was staring at Pinkie Pie, who was grinning back at her, very pleased with herself.

“Would you like a cupcake?” she said holding one out to the professor. The witch slowly shook her head, “No, thanks, I don’t want to spoil my appetite.”

“Okey doki loki!” Pinkie said, downing the entire cupcake in one impossibly big bite. “Beff iea arri err ha’ . . . .” she said.

“Pinkie! How many times do I have to tell you no talking while chewing!” Twilight said sharply.

Pinkie looked chagrined, but made a show of swallowing. “I said,” she giggled, “best idea Harry ever had, making the cupcake cups edible!”

The rest rolled their eyes.

“What’ll you have?” the serving witch asked.

Harry, hoping to head off a disaster, loudly said, “What meatless salads do you have?” The Equestrians looked at him, puzzled — weren’t all salads meatless by definition? Then they looked slightly nauseated as they realized that his action of even asking meant that here they would put meat from an animal in a lovely salad. They gave an uncertain look around the pub.

“We have an English Garden salad: Onions, cucumber, goat cheese, tomatoes, potatoes, and red beans, with a mayonnaise, mustard and honey dressing. Then we have a Ploughman’s salad: Cubed ciabatta bread, cherry tomatoes, gem lettuces, sliced red onions, cored and sliced apple, six pickled onions, and grated Cheddar with an olive oil, cider vinegar, and brown sugar dressing. And we have a pea and bean salad. Peas, corn, green beans, pimentos, celery, bell pepper and onion with a marinated sugar, black pepper, salt, oil, and vinegar dressing.”

“Oh,” said Applejack, “I’ll have the Ploughman’s!”

“Me, too,” said Apple Bloom.

The other’s quickly made their selections.

Professor McGonagall watched and noted that none of the Equestrians seemed interested in the rest of the pub’s menu.

Harry gave a sidelong glance at Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash. “Dash, Scoots? I’d suggest the fish and chips.” They shrugged. Harry looked up at the witch taking their orders. “Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo, and I will have the fish and chips, please.” He pointed out the other two to the waitress.

McGonagall said, “Oh, if you don’t mind, I’ll change my salad to a fish and chips.”

“And to drink?” queried the server.

“Do ya’ll got Apple Cider?” asked Applejack

“Yes, we do.

Twilight looked around at the others who nodded. “We’ll all have that,” she said.

“Even the children?”

Twilight cocked her head sideways. “Is there a reason why they shouldn’t?”

“Well, it is alcohol.”

Twilight looked at the others. They all shrugged.

“Um, Twilight?” Harry said. She looked at him. “I think we should have apple juice instead.”

“Okay, if you think so.” Twilight nodded to the witch, who noted it down and headed back to the kitchen.

Twilight looked at Harry, “Why is Apple Cider a problem?”

Harry thought a moment and glanced at the Professor listening intently. He leaned close and whispered, “Well, you know how too much salt is bad for ponies back home?”

Twilight nodded.

“For people, alcohol is like salt is to ponies. And salt to people is nothing except it makes things taste better. So, the apple cider here is like the ‘special stock’ apple-salt cider Applejack has hidden away.”

Her eyes went wide at that.

Twilight frowned deeply, clearly thinking about the differences in metabolism it would take to make alcohol affect humans the way salt affected ponies. Harry knew she would probably be lost in thought until their lunch arrived. Maybe it had something to do with the way magic flowed through the mana-pathways in their bodies.

Abruptly, there was a flare of green light from the big fireplace at the other end of the room. To the Equestrians’ amazement, a wizard stepped out of the flames. He was tall, thin, and very old, with a silvery beard that reached all the way to his waist. He wore long robes and a purple cloak that swept the ground.

He started for the bar as he looked casually around the room. He saw their table and smiled. He reached up and touched his glasses, then winced and blinked rapidly. He adjusted his glasses and, still smiling, changed direction to head their way. As he got closer, Harry could see he had bright light-blue eyes sparkling behind half-moon spectacles. His nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. Why he hadn't fixed it properly was beyond Harry. He had an extraordinarily long beard that reached to his waist. A braided string was halfway down it, making it look like a front-facing pony-tail. Harry thought it looked silly. Pony-tails, like Applejack favoured, belonged in the back, not the front.

“Professor McGonagall,” he called, “What a pleasure to see you. I thought you might still be showing the new students around.”

“Good morning, Headmaster,” she replied, standing to greet him, “we just finished. Their wand selection took much less time than I thought it would.” She smiled uncertainly, glancing at the herd. “They were quite . . . efficient.” She cleared her throat. “This is the Headmaster at Hogwarts, Professor Albus Dumbledore.”

Harry stared at the wizard intently. This was the man responsible for those disgraceful books. Harry didn’t like any adults, except ponies, and this one now had two strikes against him. Just looking at him made Harry angry. He glanced at Applejack. She was frowning slightly at the old wizard. Good, Harry thought. It’s not just me. He took a deep breath and tried to relax.

“Are these new students?” the old wizard asked looking at Harry and the girls.

“Yes, they are, Albus.” She pointed at Harry, “This is Mr. Harry Potter.” She moved on to the girls, pointing at each in turn around the table. “Miss Scoot Aloo, Miss Sweetie Belle, Miss Apple Bloom, and Miss Hermione Granger.” Each nodded and said a soft, “Hello.”

The wizard nodded to each, murmuring their names in turn. Harry noticed that in his case the old wizard had looked at his forehead, at his faded scar, instead of actually at him. Something about the way he studied it made Harry uneasy. As if he expected it to be or mean more than simple scar.

Then she moved on to the relatives. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” Mr. Granger stood and reached across the table to shake the wizard’s hand while Mrs. Granger nodded. “And this is Miss Twilight Sparkle, Miss Pinkie Pie, Miss Rarity — who is Miss Belle’s sister, right?” She waited for Rarity to nod. “Miss Fluttershy . . . ,” who peered at the Headmaster through her fringe and scooted closer to Rainbow Dash, “Miss Apple Jack, who is Miss Bloom’s sister.” Applejack smiled proudly at her sister. “And Miss Rainbow Dash.”

Dumbledore greeted them, his gaze lingering on both Twilight and Pinkie Pie.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your journey through Diagon Alley,” he said sincerely, glancing around the table and finally focusing on the children. “I imagine you five are quite thrilled at getting your wands.” They nodded enthusiastically.

“What wand did you get, Harry?” He looked at the boy, his gaze again stopping on the partially hidden scar.

“Oh, I don’t have it yet. Mr. Ollivander is putting it together for me. For all of us, actually.”

“Really?” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. “That is most unusual. Normally he has a wand right in his shop that is a perfect match. Did he not have the right cores or wood for your wands?”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t it at all. The Princesses . . . I mean Celestia and Luna gave me their . . . the hairs from alicorns that they thought I could use in my wand. Scootaloo had a feather from a Pegasus, Sweetie had a unicorn hair, and Bloom had a piece of wood from the apple tree her great-great-great-grandfather planted hundreds of years ago and a hair from an earth-pony. And Twilight gave Hermione a hair from another alicorn and a piece of wood from her library tree. Mr. Ollivander said they were great fits!” Harry almost missed the way Dumbledore’s eyebrow twitched slightly at hearing the words earth-pony and alicorns.

“Did he, now,” the wizard said in a kindly tone, contemplating what Harry had said and leaning back in his chair to think.

The fireplace flared green again and this time two people came out, a wizard and a witch, one after the other. They brushed themselves off and went towards the exit to the Alley. It was the start of a stream of wizards and witches coming through the fireplace at short, regular intervals. Many of them were escorting children either the same age as himself and the girls, or older.

Some headed for open tables in the pub, or joined friends, to have lunch before heading into the Alley, Harry presumed. All stopped to take a long look at the big banner over the bar and the strangely made-up barkeep, Tom. There were more than a few smiles and snickers in reaction to the sight. The bartender just smiled and waved at them.

Harry sighed as the others nodded. “But we won’t get them for seven days.”

“Seven days?” That specific length of time was important, if Harry read the old wizard’s expression right.

“Yeah.” The kids all looked a bit down knowing they would have to wait a week.

“Why don’t you join us, Albus?”

Dumbledore looked over at the strange sight that was Tom the bartender. “Yes, I think I shall.” He pulled out his wand and a gentle wave transformed the normal dining chair into a plush dining armchair. He settled into it with some satisfaction.

Their waitress witch showed up at that point with a floating tower of carefully stacked dishes, which she quickly glided into place in front of each of her customers. Harry was so glad he showed the Equestrians how people used knives, forks, and spoons. The alicorn and unicorns had caught on quickly, although he thought that they were cheating by using their magic to manipulate the utensils and simply pretending they were using their hands.

Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy had always used their wing feathers as fingers, so that wasn’t too much of a transition to using real fingers. Of course, they had it easier because fish and chips were finger foods, and nothing that required utensils. The others were not so fortunate. Harry kept his head down and concentrated on his fish and chips and hoped it wasn’t too much of a spectacle. Scootaloo and Dash watched what he did and followed his lead.

Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster, and the Grangers were very puzzled as they watched, surreptitiously, as the Equestrians fumbled their utensils as they tried to eat their lunches. It was as if they had never used them before. Or only rarely.

Fortunately, or at least Harry thought it was fortunate, the fireplace flared green again, a wizard stepped out, looked around, spotted their table, and headed over towards them. This wizard stood out from the rest of the patrons at the pub in that he was tall and thin with bright red hair. He wore glasses and had blue eyes.

Harry realized the new wizard had spotted the Headmaster and was headed for him with a big relaxed smile.

As he drew near, Dumbledore looked over at him and smiled, “Arthur! Come sit with us.” Professor McGonagall looked up, distracted from her surreptitious study of the mysterious foreigners. The other wizard smiled in return and said, “Of course, Headmaster.”

The old wizard turned to the rest of table. “I was originally going to have lunch with Arthur. I hope you don’t mind if he sits with us. He works at the Ministry of Magic.”

Harry smirked as he saw Applejack give the Headmaster a distrustful look.

They all said they didn’t mind and the Headmaster introduced them to Arthur Weasley. After telling Arthur their names, he added, “Arthur has three boys at Hogwarts, with another starting this year. A daughter, Ginny, will be starting next year.”

“The Grangers,” he said, speaking to Arthur, “are escorting their muggle-born daughter through the Alley today.” Mr. Granger having already shaken hands with the newly arrived wizard, nodded, as did Mrs Granger. Hermione watched quietly.

Arthur sat down in the chair the old wizard had just conjured. Harry noticed that the table was now full instead of having any empty places. He wondered about that. How had the bartender known two more wizards would join them? Had it all been arranged beforehand? Being with the Cutie Mark Crusaders had taught him to distrust coincidences — they almost always resulted in the Crusaders being covered in tree-sap. He took an intent look around the pub for hidden trees or buckets of sap.

“The rest of our guests,” the Headmaster continued, “are foreign witches, I believe.” His eyes twinkling, he looked at Harry, “Except for Harry, here, of course.”

Arthur looked at the older wizard, eyebrow raised.

Twilight froze and stared at the old wizard. “Er, what?” she said cautiously.

He smiled gently, “That you can use magic is self-evident.” He nodded at the fork that was hovering over her plate.

She must have let go of the fork at some point without noticing. Not that that mattered, as she expected that Professor McGonagall had informed him of their magical abilities. It was the foreign part that threw her.

Twilight blushed and grabbed the fork. Harry buried his face in his hands. Scootaloo said, “Oops,” and exchanged smirks with the other fillies. Ha! It wasn’t their fault the truth was leaking out.

“You can do magic and if you had been born in England,” the wily old wizard continued, “you would have received a letter from Hogwarts when you were eleven. You didn’t, thus you aren’t from England."

Harry looked between his fingers, frowning. Professor McGonagall had to have told him they knew magic. So why the act? Or was that for anyone who might be listening?

“Am I correct?” He smiled at her, calmly, waiting.

She took a breath and thought a moment. “Princess Celestia is going to be so mad at me,” she murmured just loud enough for Harry to hear. She cleared her throat and said, softly, “Yes, we are new to this country, to this world, even.” She glanced around the pub, which was noisily ignoring them. “Does that change anything?” she asked carefully.

He smiled broadly, “No, of course not. The children have their Hogwarts’ letters, so they are admitted to Hogwarts. That you and your friends are strangers to England, and our world, is of no consequence.” He stroked his beard like an elderly grandfather would. “I am merely curious where you come from.”

“We had hoped we could get the fillies and Harry to Hogwarts without incident and then quietly return home.” She picked at her salad, taking a bite.

“Might I ask where your home is?”

Arthur and Professor McGonagall were listening closely, Harry noticed.

Twilight took a deep breath and looked at each of her friends. Pinkie was busily building a pyramid of muffins. Fluttershy had hidden herself behind Rainbow Dash, somehow, without moving from her chair. Dash had finished her fish and chips and was looking for their witch waitress. Rarity, like Harry, had buried her face in her hands, but was peeking between her fingers. Applejack shrugged at Twilight’s look. Twilight nodded to herself. “We’re from Ponyville.”

Harry's hands over his face masked his surprise at her answer.

That had been a long and involved discussion the previous night, she later told Harry. Princesses Celestia and Luna wanted normal relations with the humans. That is, trade and the exchange of ideas and technology. The wizards, on the other hand, wanted to keep their society a secret from the other humans. This led to a problem, a conflict of interest. The Equestrians didn't understand completely why the wizards and witches wanted to live that way, but they were not about to reveal the wizards and witches just so they could trade with the other humans.

In order to protect the wizard’s secrets, they would have to conceal certain facts.

He nodded agreeably. “Does everyone in . . . Ponyville use magic?” he asked, smiling. He knew they were concealing where they came from. It could only be because the name would draw undue attention. And there were few places with that sort of reputation. And Professor McGonagall's patronus message from Ollivander's reduced the number of possibilities even further.

Based on the Headmaster’s failing to recognize the name, Harry wondered if either Professor McGonagall or the Headmaster had ever seen the address on his Hogwarts’ letter, or were they were addressed and sent by magic? He hoped it was the latter.

Again, she glanced at her friends. She took another bite of her salad as a delaying tactic.

The witch waitress had seen Arthur arrive, and was now standing beside his chair. Dash leaned across the table and said, “I’ll have another of those fish and chips!” Arthur quickly placed his order for the same.

As soon as she left, Twilight answered Dumbledore’s question, “Yes.”

“And what of the muggles?”

Twilight looked at him blankly. “Muggles? Those are people without magic, right?” She glanced at Professor McGonagall. “There aren’t any muggles in Ponyville.”

The two wizards and the witch stared at her in surprise.

She tilted her head. “Or did I misunderstand your question?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. If anything, I probably worded the question incorrectly,” he said deprecatingly. He paused. “It’s just that I am unaware of any country that doesn’t also have muggles living there.”

Twilight smiled. “I think I understand your confusion. Every pony . . . person in our . . . homeland . . . uses magic.”

He frowned slightly. “Does it not happen that sometimes a child is born without that ability? Or so little that they cannot properly use it?”

Twilight leaned back in shock. “A fo . . . a child with little or no magic?” She looked uncertainly at the other mares. “I don’t think that’s possible. Everything in our homeland has magic. I know I would have read of such a thing in the Royal Library when I studied medicinal spells, if it had happened.” She frowned, thinking. “There is an extremely rare medical condition that afflicts some in the unicorn tribe,” she mused quietly, “where the mana pathways are underdeveloped or weak. But with little magic itself?” She hummed a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”

The wizards and witch exchanged looks. “Never?” said Dumbledore.

“Well, maybe not never — I suppose it could happen.” She frowned in thought. “Discord might know of such a thing happening when he ruled.” She shuddered. “But that was over fifteen hundred years ago.” She smiled. “So, none since then for sure, and probably for the thousand years before he overthrew the Princesses. Any parent with such a child would have rushed to Princess Celestia immediately. I’ll ask the Princesses and Discord when we go back, just to be sure.”

“Amazing,” Dumbledore said softly. Arthur and the professor exchanged thoughtful looks. Harry saw they had noticed how she had said Discord used to rule long ago and yet was still alive.

The witch returned with the orders for Arthur and Dash, and left.

“Professor McGonagall noticed last night that you were surprised we used wands.”

Twilight shrugged. “Magic is innate. Some are better at it than others. Some have bigger pools than others. But every . . . one has some. All you need is to memorize the spell matrix. Then it’s a simple matter of how much power you can supply. If you have enough, the spell works. If not, it doesn’t.”

She didn’t add that they had never thought of wands to facilitate using magic because unicorn horns were natural foci. And that pegasi, who worked magic through their wings, and earth-ponies, who worked magic through their hooves, wouldn’t have ever thought of using something else to focus their magic. It just hadn’t occurred to the ponies.

“Is all your magic non-verbal, then?”

“Actually, no,” Twilight said. “We do use singing for some spontaneous Harmony magic, usually triggered by strong emotions or desires. And sometimes we have used ancient runes to control magic.” The alicorn’s speech was reaching that familiar lecture mode the Equestrians knew so well. “In point of fact, Ponhenge has some very interesting runes . . . .” Harry elbowed her. “Ow!” She looked at him angrily.

“Focus, Twilight,” Applejack said dryly, “Focus!”

Twilight blushed and muttered, “Sorry.”

The old wizard looked disappointed.

“Might I ask how you and Harry met?” The old wizard’s eyes twinkled as he waited for an answer.

Twilight looked at Harry. He frowned, but then slowly nodded. She turned back to the Headmaster. “In truth, Harry found us. His . . . relatives . . . are not very nice.”

Applejack snorted. “Ought to throw the lot of them in the dungeons and throw away the key, I say.” Harry noticed that the old wizard saw Rainbow and Rarity nod solemnly. He sighed and hoped the wizards hadn’t noticed that AJ had said dungeons and not jail or prison.

Pinkie Pie had distributed and eaten the muffins in her pyramid and was now passing out muffins to the other customers in the pub, to every non-Equestrian’s amazement. She darted over to Harry and gave him a hug. “He’s my favourite colt! Well, except for Pound Cake, that is.”

Harry threw a hand over his eyes. “Oh, the horrors! Second place, again!” Pinkie giggled in response. Which wasn’t all that difficult an accomplishment, anyway.

The old wizard chuckled at the byplay, but kept his eyes on Twilight.

She glanced worriedly at Harry, then looked back at the Headmaster. “I think the rest is for him to tell. We have helped him as much as we could, and he’s made terrific progress. Suffice to say, when he received his letter we decided to give him the support his relatives had denied.” She glanced at Professor McGonagall. “He decided that he would only go to Hogwarts if his filly friends could go.” She looked back at Dumbledore, “Fortunately, you sent letters to the fillies as well, making that a moot point.”

The Headmaster exchanged looks with the professor. “I am pleased to hear that Harry has decided to join us, with his friends.” He sat a moment, his eyes twinkling madly. He looked over at his wizard friend.

Mr. Weasley spoke up, “Well, because you are new to the wizarding world, perhaps you would be interested in seeing a wizarding home? I would be delighted to show you The Burrow, and introduce you to my wife and children. It would also give the children,” he nodded at Harry and the girls, “a chance to meet up with some of their classmates. It wouldn’t hurt to start Hogwarts knowing some of the things that wizarding children know just because they grew up as wizards and witches.” He paused and looked at the Grangers. “Your daughter won’t be at a disadvantage regarding magic, as most wizarding families don’t let their children practice magic until they get their wands after they get their Hogwarts letter.”

Harry could see the Grangers relax a little bit as a tension they hadn’t acknowledged was relieved. He didn’t miss Sweetie’s smirk as she looked at him. Who needed a wand to practice magic when you had a horn?

Mrs. Granger looked at her husband. “It would be nice to see just what it is like to live in a world of magic.” Mr. Granger nodded. “Yes, what Professor McGonagall showed us on Sunday was interesting, but not very practical.” Hermione was nodding so fast Harry was worried her head would fall off.

“Then,” the Headmaster said, “If we have finished with our repast, perhaps we should adjourn to The Burrow?” Harry noticed that the Headmaster, unlike Mr. Weasley, hadn’t bothered to order or eat anything. So much for a luncheon with a friend!

The others, however, had devoured their lunches with alacrity.

A quick exchange of looks and murmurs, and some finger licking, and they were soon gathered in front of the fireplace as Twilight settled their bill with the bartender. The fireplace was tall enough for someone to stand with only a minor stoop and wide enough for two people to stand beside each other. The fire was quite low, barely any flames showing.

“This is the Floo-network,” Arthur explained. “It connects most wizarding homes and business locations. It’s operated and maintained by the Ministry and is perfectly safe.”

Twilight finished paying the bill and re-joined them. Arthur smiled at her and continued, “You take a generous pinch of Floo-powder from this pot here,” he pointed to a pot in a small alcove in the side of the fireplace brickwork, just below shoulder height for the adults. “You take a deep breath and throw the Floo-powder into the fireplace. Wait for the flames to turn green. When they do, step into the flames and announce where you want to go in a firm, clear voice.” He smiled. “It’s really simple and easy. Don’t let it fluster you.

“The one mistake people make is to throw in the powder, step into the flames, and then take a breath.” He shook his head. “You get a mouthful of ashes and start coughing before you can say the destination. At worst, you cough while speaking and end up going somewhere you didn’t intend.” He looked at them, scanning them all, to make sure they understood. “So, take a breath, throw the powder, wait for the green flames, then say where you want to go as you step in!”

He smiled again. “I’ll go first to show you how it’s done, and to tell my Molly that company is coming.” He turned and took what looked like a good spoonful of powder in his hand. He looked back at them. “We’re going to The Burrow, two words, The Burrow,” he repeated carefully.

He threw the powder into the flames. When they turned green he stepped into them while saying, “The Burrow!” He disappeared.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Author's Note

Apple Cider is an alcoholic drink in England and its environs. In America, Apple Cider is non-alcoholic, and alcoholic cider is referred to as Hard Cider. From the show, ponies get drunk on salt, not alcohol.

30 — The Red-headed League

They all looked at each other, waiting to see who would be brave enough to go first. Not surprisingly, it was Dash. She inhaled sharply, took a bit of Floo-powder in her hand and tossed it into the flames. After they turned green, she stepped into them and said, “The Burrow.” Harry thought he saw her start to spin as she vanished.

“I will go last,” announced the Headmaster, “in case someone needs help.”

“And I have paperwork back at Hogwarts, so I’ll take my leave now,” said Professor McGonagall.

After that, one after another, they followed Dash’s lead. Twilight, Applejack, and Rarity insisted that Harry and the fillies go before them. And Apple Bloom and Scootaloo insisted on going before Harry. The Grangers would follow the Equestrians.

What Mr. Weasley had failed to mention was the spinning that took place as Harry flew through the Floo system. He could see various fireplaces flying by with glimpses of sitting rooms, kitchens, dens, and businesses, some with people in them and some without — basically, any room with a fireplace linked to the network, he decided. As each approached, he felt himself spinning to face it as if it might be his destination. Finally, one fireplace seemed to grow larger as he approached, until it, and the sitting room beyond with many standing people, was all he could see.

He shot out of the fireplace as if he had been catapulted — a sensation he remembered quite vividly from the Pony-Pitcher they had built.

“Woah!”

“Ah!”

“Look out!” he heard as he slid to a halt with a solid thud against a couch, knocking it and its occupants over backwards.

Harry blinked and tried to figure out what had happened and why he was upside down. Into the silence, he heard,

“’Cor! I’ve never seen anyone leave the Floo like that!”

“Oh my goodness! Are you all right?”

“Impressive!”

“Now that’s an entrance!”

“Do you . . .”

“. . . think we could learn . . .”

“. . . to do that?”

“Are you alright, Harry?” Apple Bloom said from beside him. She grabbed his arm and lifted him to his feet. Scootaloo took his other arm.

“I’m fine. Just . . . surprised,” he said. Rubbing the back of his head, Harry looked around. Pinkie Pie was holding a sign up that said “7”.

Two tall thin boys with bright red hair who looked exactly alike were holding signs that read “8”. They looked at the signs with puzzled expressions, before setting them down and starting to right the couch and help a younger girl, also with bright red hair, to her feet. They all had infectious grins. There was no doubt these were some of the Weasley children. Over by a door, beyond which he could see a kitchen, was a short, plump, kindly-looking woman with reddish hair. Standing beside her, shaking his head in disbelief, was Mr. Weasley.

In short order, Sweetie Belle, Applejack, and Rarity came stumbling out of the fireplace, barely keeping to their feet, but managing it. Twilight, though, followed Harry’s lead, and shot across the room like a human battering ram, once again knocking over the couch and its occupants. Except Twilight bounced up off the couch and hit the wall behind it, sliding to the floor.

Harry sighed. A quick look at Pinkie Pie revealed her holding up a sign that said “10”. Beside her were the twins and little sister, all also holding signs that said “10”. A smaller red-headed boy held a sign that said “9”. The red-heads all looked puzzled at exactly where the signs had come from and how they had ended up holding them.

A pained “Ow” came from Twilight as she regained her feet, rubbing her head and then her bare right shoulder.

The twins announced, “Blimey that’s even . . .”

“. . . more impressive an entrance . . .”

“. . . than that wizard’s!”

Their mother said, “George, Fred, behave!”

“Yes, mum,” was the quick stereo response.

“But . . .”

“. . . still . . . ,” they mumbled, giving each other a sneaky smile.

Headmaster Dumbledore made an elegant entrance as he casually stepped from the fireplace and then flicked his wand to remove the copious amounts of ashes spread across the room. He surveyed the upended couch, Twilight getting to her feet and straightening her dress so it didn’t quite reveal as much as it was, and the signs being held up, with a soft smile and twinkling eyes. “Floo travel can be tricky for some people,” he said. “I trust everyone made it here, though, correct?” Various nods reassured him that they were not missing any members of their group.

Once the sitting-room was set to rights, the introductions began.

“. . . and this is Harry Potter . . . .”

There was an “eep!” from the red-headed girl, who quickly fled the room. Harry saw her peek back inside the sitting-room from the kitchen. That and everyone stared at his forehead. He just stared back at them. First in the pub this morning and now here. What was the fascination with an old scar? It was a nice scar, he thought, a really ace lightning shape. Kids who saw it when he was in primary had always been impressed, until Dudley had spread lies about him doing it to himself just to get attention. And his mane had kept it mostly hidden in Equestria.

It had been much more vivid last year. For some reason, after Tirek’s battle with Twilight in Ponyville, Harry’s scar had started to fade. He missed the old library. It had been cosy.

After the introductions, Mrs. Weasley said, “Well. Would anyone like tea?” The adults all readily agreed. “Wonderful!” she said. She looked at her older boys who were bored and already trying to decide what they wanted to do next. “Boys, why don’t you set up the tables in the garden lawn, the kitchen isn’t large enough for us all. Ron? Ginny? Why don’t you show Harry and his friends the garden and orchard?”

“Orchard?” Applejack and Apple Bloom said almost simultaneously, and looked towards the kitchen where the older boys were already headed.

Almost as soon as they left the house through the kitchen door, Fluttershy spotted a couple of chickens. With a gleeful “Oh!” that was almost loud enough to qualify as a whisper, she immediately bounded over to them.

Twilight took one look behind her at the house and grabbed Mr. Weasley. “Show me the spells you used!” she demanded. Mr. Weasley was only too happy to oblige as they started walking around the house, Twilight peppering him with questions so fast that he barely had time to answer one before she asked another.

Pinkie was the last out of the kitchen and was carrying a cake. She gave the twins a wide smile as she placed the cake on one of the two tables they had just set up.

Harry saw Molly gave Pinkie a puzzled look. She turned to Rarity and said, “Where did she get the cake?” Harry stifled a laugh.

Pinkie, now standing beside them, said, “Oh, I baked it!”

“When?” came the bewildered response.

“Just now.” Pinkie had a dazzling smile in place.

“Where?”

“Why, in your oven, of course, silly-billy!”

“But you couldn’t have, not even with magic could you bake a cake that fast!” Molly declared, hands on her hips.

“Oh, it wasn’t fast at all, about forty minutes. And then I frosted it, which took another five minutes.”

The witch stared at Pinkie, “But you weren’t in the kitchen that long!”

“I work fast,” she said, tilting her head slightly.

“But . . . .”

Rarity tapped the woman lightly on the arm. Molly looked at her, frowning. “Don’t,” said Rarity. “You’ll just get a headache and you still won’t understand.” She gave her a significant look, “It’s just Pinkie being Pinkie,” she said emphatically.

The twins were alternating staring at their mother and at Pinkie. “I don’t think anyone else,” one started.

“. . . has ever flummoxed mum . . .”

“. . . as thoroughly as us.”

Then, to change the subject, Rarity asked, “And the tea?”

The twins looked at each other. “Flying?”

“Quidditch?”

“An excellent suggestion . . .”

“. . . my dear brother.”

“To the broom shed!” They both pointed dramatically at a small shed built into the side of the house.

“Flying?” said Dash excitedly, almost leaping over to join them.

“Oh, yes,” said one.

“We try to get . . .”

“. . . as much flying practice . . .”

“. . . and Quidditch . . .”

“. . . as we can . . .”

“. . . in the summer.”

“Show me!” she said as she eagerly followed them.

Meanwhile, Applejack and Apple Bloom were inspecting the closest apple tree in the orchard. Harry, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and the two youngest red-heads trailed after them, half listening to the entertainment behind them.

Rarity sighed and looked at Mrs. Weasley. “Would you like help with the tea?”

“Oh, no, dear. I’ll have it out here in no time at all,” Molly said, after a bewildered look around at how quickly her guests had all disappeared. Pinkie was currently crawling under the roses looking for who knew what.

The Headmaster just stood by the house, taking in everything that was happening. He paid especially close attention to Pinkie when he believed she wasn’t looking at him.

Applejack studied the tree with a critical eye. “Not in the best of condition, is it, Apple Bloom?”

“Nuh, huh,”

Applejack placed her hands against the tree and looked up into the branches and at the tiny apples growing there. She closed her eyes.

“What’s she doing?” asked Ginny.

“Usin’ her magic to look inside,” came Apple Bloom’s reply.

Applejack kicked off her sandals, and dug her toes into the soil. “That’s better.”

That was when they heard, “waaaAAAAHHHHhooooo!” and Rainbow Dash shot by barely over their heads, riding a broom.

Harry and the fillies exchanged looks. Wizards and Witches could fly? On brooms? Applejack blinked and said to Ginny, “Humph. How about that . . . .” as the four Equestrian foals took off back to the house so fast Ginny later swore she could see red, orange, yellow, and white coloured trails behind them. Ron hurried after them. Hermione wasn’t as interested in flying, but still decided to follow the others. Applejack shrugged and walked over to the next tree. “Let’s see how you’re doing.”

Rarity sighed as she saw Rainbow Dash vanish among the treetops. She took the cup and saucer that the witch had floated over with her wand. Molly was staring off in the direction Dash had disappeared, as well. Rarity added the bit of sugar she liked and took a sip. She smiled appreciatively. “This is excellent tea, Molly Weasley.”

Dumbledore, who had taken a seat across from Rarity, nodded after taking a sip. “Wonderful, as always, Molly.” The Grangers murmured their approval, too.

Brought back to the garden, Molly said, “Thank you. I rather like this blend.”

Rarity looked around the garden area again, noticing the fillies and Harry closely following the instructions that the two tall twins were giving them at the shed’s door. She smiled, knowing that would keep them occupied for the rest of the afternoon.

Rarity turned her gaze back to the wizard and witch at the table with her, smiling. “So, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Professor Minerva McGonagall told us about this statute of secrecy? Why is it needed, precisely?”

۸- ̫ -۸

The twins, seeing the kids charging towards them had already taken two more brooms from the shed. “Sorry,” one said.

“We only have . . . ,” said the other.

“. . . two extra brooms.”

“They belong to . . .”

“. . . Charlie and Bill.”

“But they won’t mind . . .”

“. . . if we let you . . .”

“. . . borrow them today.” They handed the two brooms to Harry and Apple Bloom, who had managed to arrive first.

Scootaloo mumbled, “Aw, horsefeathers! How come he always loses the unimportant races at home?”

Hermione and Sweetie Belle crowded close to inspect the brooms with the others.

“Now then,” said one of the red-heads as Ron slid to a halt beside the shed and ducked inside. “Straddle the broom . . .”

“. . . like this.” concluded the other as he demonstrated.

“Hold the handle . . .”

“. . . like this . . . ,” they said together as one repositioned Harry’s hands on this broom while the other held his broom up for them to see his grip.

Bloom and Harry quickly adopted the same stance as the twins. “Now, push off . . .”

“. . . gently with your toes . . . .” The twin on the broom demonstrated, “. . . to go up.”

“Lean forward . . .”

“. . . to go forward.”

“Lean backwards . . .”

“. . . to slow down . . .”

“. . . or stop.”

“Push the broom down . . .”

“. . . to go down . . .”

“. . . and pull up . . .”

“. . . to go up.”

“And Bob’s your uncle!” they concluded in chorus.

“You can’t go too high . . .”

“. . . or the muggles might see you.”

“And stay over the orchard . . .”

“. . . but not too close to the edges . . .”

“. . . for the same reason.”

For several minutes the two newbies flew around the house, experimenting. Harry felt as if his face might break in two, it was so much fun and he was grinning so hard. He saw Ron give his broom to Sweetie Belle. Reluctantly, he landed back beside the watching Hermione and Scootaloo, followed by one of the twins. He handed his broom to Scootaloo. “You’re gonna love this Scoots.” Reverently she took it and stood astride it as the twins had shown her. The one who had followed Harry leaned over and nodded approvingly at her grip. “That’s the ticket!” he said. His brother landed a moment later.

Scootaloo hovered for a moment, moved slowly forward and turned around to face them, a giant grin on her face. She looked around, making the broom spin gently, twirling her in a circle. She took a deep breath as she lifted her nose, as if she were smelling the air. She stopped and exhaled, looked over at them and grinned even wider. She rolled her shoulders, yanked the broom almost vertical, and shot into the air straight up, leaving behind a trailing and faint “YAHOOOOOoo.”

Just before they lost sight of her, she arched over backwards and plummeted back down, laughing like a madwoman. She pulled out just feet above them to shoot off into the orchard while rotating around her broom.

After a moment’s stunned silence, the twins said, “That one’s . . .”

“. . . a natural . . .”

“. . . I’d say . . .”

“. . . wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry. “She’s been dying to fly for years.” Apple Bloom landed and held out her broom to Hermione.

“Oh?” said one.

“Do you live . . . ,” said the other.

“. . . among muggles?” finished the first one.

Harry and Apple Bloom glanced at each other. “It’s complicated,” said Harry. “We don’t have flying brooms, and there aren’t any muggles around.” He half-smiled shyly. “In fact, until I got my Hogwarts letter we didn’t even know there were muggles, wizards, or witches.”

The three red-heads stared at them. “No muggles?”

“No wizards?”

“No witches?”

“No magic?”

“What?”

“Oh, we have magic. Everypo . . . everyone has magic. It’s just that we never thought about using wands. Or brooms for flying,” Apple Bloom explained.

The three Weasleys stared at them. “Um, flying carpets . . .”

“. . . perhaps?”

“Flying carpets!?” Apple Bloom and Harry exchanged looks. “That sounds like fun!” said Apple Bloom. She grinned at Harry and said, in a low tone, “Cutie Mark Crusaders Flying Carpet Makers?”

Harry grinned back. “Perhaps another day.”

“But if you don’t have wands,” said Ron, “how do you do magic?”

Harry looked around uncertainly and shuffled his feet nervously. “We just do.”

The twins looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

Harry looked around, and then stepped over to the shed. “Like this.” He stepped back and as he did a hoe, rake, and shovel floated out beside him.

“‘Cor!”

“Blimey!”

“Brill!”

“What else can you do?” Ron eagerly asked.

“Teleport?” Harry looked unsure. “Illusions?”

“What’s telapart?”

Harry frowned. “Teleport.” He closed his eyes, then looked back into the shed. He frowned. “I’m not sure I can do that here, but here goes!”

He concentrated, then staggered as he nearly lost his balance on the shed’s uneven floor. When he stepped out the three red-heads went goggle-eyed.

“You can apparate?” Ron breathed. His brothers appeared equally astounded.

“Not well, yet.” Harry looked around the garden area and sighed. “At home, I can get about four or five. . . miles, tops. Never had to go farther, actually, so maybe I could do more.” He shrugged. “I don’t really know what my limit is.” He looked up as Twilight and Mr. Weasley came around the corner of the house, still discussing how the house used magic. “Twilight can go over several hundred miles. Princess Celestia can go anywhere in the world.”

Ron turned to Apple Bloom. “And you can do all that, too?”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “My magic is Earth magic. Anything to do with the Earth, Ah can work with it.”

The boys looked puzzled.

“Like this.” Apple Bloom walked over to a nearby bush that wasn’t doing as well as the ones to its sides.

“That’s dill planted there . . . , ” said one of the twins.

“. . . and that one is always a bit small,” finished the other.

Apple Bloom nodded and dropped to her knees. She put her hands in the dirt to either side of sickly plant. Nothing happened for a moment, then, to the red-heads’ amazement, the plant began to grow. Its stalks grew taller and thicker, and the buds suddenly burst open into brilliant yellow blooms.

She leaned back, then stood. “The soil thar’s a bit sandy, drains the water away too fast. Try a good helpin’ o’ manure before the winter and work it well into the ground. Don’t over water it.”

Harry grinned. “I bet Applejack’ll have a whole list of things you need to do for your orchard. And your crop this year will be fantastic!”

“wheeeeEEeeeeee!” Scootaloo zipped by them.

Sweetie Belle drifted over to them, not nearly as confident in her flying skills, but still sporting a huge grin. Hermione was following her at a much lower altitude and had a hesitant smile.

“And what’s her specialty?” asked one of the twins, watching Scootaloo disappear into the orchard again.

“She’s a pegasus. They handle the weather at home — move the clouds, make it rain, stuff like that.”

“A weather witch!” They exchanged looks.

“That’d be handy . . .”

“. . . at Hogwarts.”

“Just imagine . . .”

“. . . always perfect weather . . .”

“. . . for Quidditch!” The twins grinned widely at each other.

“What about you?” asked Ron, looking at Sweetie Belle.

“She can do magic like me,” Harry said. “She can’t teleport yet, but she’s been doing levitating since she was a fo . . . toddler.”

The Weasleys looked at Sweetie Belle with awe.

۸- ̫ -۸

For a long moment the elderly wizard looked at her. “You have never heard of the Statute of Secrecy?”

Rarity tilted her head, “No, dear. Everyone has magic. It would be silly to try to keep that a secret.”

“Interesting.” He sighed and took off his glasses. He pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping the lenses. “The International Confederation of Wizards proposed the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1689 and it became established law in 1692 — three hundred years ago.” He put his glasses back on and gave her a long look. “It was thought at the time that wizards and witches in every country in the world had been contacted and were a part of the Confederation.” He smiled ruefully, “Apparently not.” He cleared his throat.

“It was a response to the muggle witch-hunts going on long ago. As the witch-hunts grew ever fiercer, wizarding families began to live double lives, using charms of concealment to protect themselves and their families. Wizarding families were prone to losing younger family members, whose inability to control their own magic attracted Muggle witch-hunters. By the seventeenth century, any witch or wizard who chose to meet with Muggles became suspect of colluding with the muggles. Some even became outcasts in their own communities.”

“Witch hunts?”

“Yes. The muggles accused wizards and witches of treating them as inferiors, of using their magic to sicken livestock, ruin crops, steal, and commit other crimes against them. Basically, anything that went wrong for a muggle was blamed on a witch or a wizard, true or false was of no concern. It didn’t matter how trivial a matter it was; if someone dropped a bucket of water, it was because an evil witch made them do it, not that they were simply clumsy. They also accused witches and wizards of consorting with Satan, the demon of Christianity and opponent of the God they worshipped. Sometimes just the accusation, without proof, could get the priests to destroy a family.”

Rarity nodded several times, thinking. “And were they? Doing those things?”

Mrs. Weasley, Rarity noticed, looked guilty.

“Are they still doing those things?” she added, arching an eyebrow and leaning back in her chair.

“Unfortunately,” the Headmaster said, “there are always those who feel that they are superior to others and act upon those feelings without considering the repercussions of their actions.” He shook his head sadly.

“So, the muggles were justified, in part, in chasing after wizards and witches. And if the only wizards and witches they met did them evil, then it would be easy for them to assume that all witches and wizards were evil, would it not?”

“I suppose that is so,” said the Headmaster sagely.

Molly looked guilty, still, but then she brightened.

“We are trying to put a stop that. My Arthur is the director of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. It’s his job to hunt down items that were enchanted by wizards and witches that have fallen into the hands of muggles.” She frowned, “Although there are a few who do that on purpose. He told me last week that he had found a few vanishing keys.”

“Vanishing keys?”

“Oh, yes. A wizard will duplicate a muggle key and enchant the key to keep getting smaller until it vanishes. It’s very hard, though, to convict anyone because no Muggle will admit their key keeps shrinking — they’ll insist they just keep losing it. And then find it again when they don’t need it.” She shook her head ruefully. “Bless them, they’ll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it’s staring them in the face . . . .”

Rarity turned her attention to the Headmaster again. “You mentioned a god and demon? Can you tell me more?”

Dumbledore adopted a scholarly contemplative expression, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his hands’ fingers together over his stomach. “The major religion in England is Christianity. The believers worship an entity known as God. A key feature of this religion is that it has a demon known as Satan that tries to trick believers into betraying their god. They call this demon Satan, the King of Lies.”

Rarity nodded her understanding. “And where does this God live?”

The wizard, witch, and Grangers, exchanged looks.

“Well, according to the Bible, the book of the Jews and Christians, he lives in Heaven with his son.”

“Jews?”

“Christianity is an offshoot of the Jewish religion. They share the same holy book, with the same God and Satan. One thousand nine hundred and ninety-one years ago, the Christians say that God sent his son into the world to teach a new way for his followers to get into heaven, splitting off from the Jews.”

“Wait,” Rarity sat up straight, frowning. “Why aren’t the Jews Christians if their God told them to obey his son?”

“The Jews don’t believe that Christ is the son of God.”

Rarity sat back and stared at them in disbelief. “And their God hasn’t corrected them? Why does she allow this? That makes no sense! Unless this God enjoys conflict? How distasteful!” She shook her head, making an expression of mild disgust. “Is she a God of Chaos?”

Again the others exchanged puzzled looks.

Mr. Granger sat forward, looking at Rarity. “No one can ask God or Christ directly, they’re in Heaven. We only have what was written down two thousand years ago when Christ was preaching to the Jews.”

“And you can’t make an appointment to go to Heaven and ask?”

They all frowned. After a quick puzzled look at his wife, Mr. Granger continued, “Only after you die do you go to Heaven. And if you’ve failed to follow the teachings of Christ, you may go to Hell instead.”

Rarity was shaking her head. “No, this makes no sense. If you can’t talk to your god directly, how do you know she even exists? Much less that the stories about her are true.”

The Headmaster chuckled softly, “And there you have the crux of the matter between wizards and Christians. A Wizard wants to see evidence that there is a God — if there is, wouldn’t magic reveal him? — and the Christians say you must take it on faith.”

After a moment of watching Rarity still shaking her head in disbelief, he asked, eyes twinkling, “And what of yourself and your friends? What do you believe? Do you have a religion?”

She sighed and took another sip of her tea. “I suppose we don’t really have a religion. Oh,” she waved her hand dismissively, “some pray to Princess Celestia, and more lately, Princess Luna and Princess Cadenza.” She paused. “And, fortunately, Twilight hasn’t had enough attention yet for it to be an issue. But there’s no organized religion, no holy book of what Celestia has said. Unless you count history books. Celestia actually discourages pon . . . people worshiping her. She says it’s annoying and wastes her time. And leads to fights as po . . . people argue about what exactly she meant when she said something she considers trivial. Such as the time she said every . . . one should brush their teeth. There were fights about how toothbrushes should be made to properly show respect for Celestia.” She shook her head.

“And what Princess Luna says about worshipers isn’t language fit for mixed company! You start praying to her and you’ll be getting nightmares every night.”

That got the Grangers and the other two frowning again.

Slowly, considering his words carefully, Dumbledore asked, “Doesn’t Princess Celestia rule your homeland?”

“Oh, yes!” Rarity straightened. “She’s ruled for over two thousand years now, except for that period when Dis . . . the God of Chaos ruled.” She paused and wrinkled her nose. “Confidentially, I don’t like saying his name,” she said, “It might attract his attention.” She gave a delicate shudder, “You do not want him popping up in front of you!” She sighed. “Fluttershy claims he’s reformed, but I don’t know.” She stared at her cup for a moment before taking another sip. “However, no one is positive exactly how long he ruled.” She shook her head. “It was impossible to keep track, but that was at about one and a half thousand years ago.”

Then she said, “Princess Celestia has an open court every weekday in Canterlot. Anyone can petition to be heard. The wait list for non-governmental business is long, though, I’ve heard you have to make an appointment a year in advance, now. But if it’s a real emergency she’ll see you immediately.”

The others thought about that for a moment. “Who is the Queen?” asked Dumbledore.

“Queen?” Rarity tittered behind her hand. “We don’t have a Queen. Or a King. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are co-rulers. You can’t have two Kings or Queens, but you can have as many Princesses as you want.”

“Ah,” said the Headmaster, stroking his beard, “I suppose you can.”

“And we’ve had a thousand years of peace with her as our ruler, so we have no complaints!” She gave them a happy smile. “You know the old curse — well, it’s not really a curse, it’s not a spell of any kind, but still, some call it a curse — ‘May you live in interesting times’? Well the last thousand years have been positively boring!”

Her smile slowly went away. She scowled delicately and murmured, “Though, the last two years have been a bit excitable . . . .”

The wizards looked at her questioningly, clearly wondering what had been happening in the last two years.

۸- ̰ -۸

31 — Divide and Conquer

Rarity was still shaking her head as she thought about how quiet Ponyville had been prior to Twilight moving there, when Harry and Apple Bloom walked over. They were followed by Sweetie Belle and Hermione on their borrowed brooms. “Rarity!” declared Sweetie Belle. “We need to buy broomsticks today!” The others were nodding emphatically. “We’re going back for the trunks, anyway, so we can pick them up at the same time.”

Rarity stared at her sister, one eyebrow elegantly raised. “Broomsticks? As I recall,” she glanced at Harry, “Your letters said first-years are not allowed to have broomsticks at Hogwarts.” She looked at them sternly and crossed her arms.

Sweetie Belle waved her hand dismissively, “That’s true, but we want them to fly here. The twins told us we could come over anytime to fly here, because we live in a muggle area. But they don’t have enough brooms for all of us at the same time. And it would be quite an imposition to ask that the colts give up their brooms just so we could fly on them.”

At that moment, Scootaloo shot by the table, hanging upside down on the broom, screaming, “wheeeeEEeeeeeee!” Ron and the twins drifted closer and watched from their brooms, mouths agape. “And she’s never been on a broom before?” Ron said incredulously.

“Yeah,” added Harry. “If we don’t get our own brooms, I think we’re gonna need a crowbar to pry Scootaloo off the broom she’s borrowed.”

Sweetie Belle sighed and nodded, “But first we’d have to catch her.”

Harry and the two fillies all sighed as they watched Scootaloo slalom through the orchard. “It would make far more sense to purchase our own.” Sweetie Belle continued, “That way we could all fly our brooms at the same time.” She looked at her sister with wide pleading eyes and a slight tremble to her lower lip. If she could have managed to make her ears tilt forward hopefully, she would have done that too. “We’ll use our own bits, so we won’t be taking it from the bits Princess Celestia set aside for school. Please?” She clasped her hands together in front of her chest.

The Weasleys and Grangers exchanged glances at the phrase “our own bits.” Was “bits” their term for galleons?

Buying a new broom wasn’t cheap. Were these new witches rich?

Rarity’s stern visage wavered a moment, then broke. She sighed and took a deep breath. “Well, I guess so. If Twilight and Applejack agree.” Harry and Sweetie Belle grinned happily. Dash would be delighted at the prospect of getting a broom. Twilight would be a cinch. And Applejack would cave when she saw the others had already capitulated.

Twilight and Arthur were just passing the broom shed. “That is fascinating,” they heard her say. She looked up and saw them staring at her. She immediately blushed. She had forgotten all about the tea. She hurried over with Arthur, who was also looking abashed at having forgotten why they came outside in the first place. His wife, Molly, glared at him, not forgiving in the slightest at his leaving her with their other guests.

Apple Bloom cupped her hands around her mouth, took a deep breath, and yelled, “SCOOTALOO!” Harry felt the table vibrate. Everyone around the table winced. He looked down to see that Apple Bloom was bare foot.

The twins made a show of rubbing their ears. “Quite a pair . . .”

“. . . of lungs on that girl.”

Ron nodded agreement. Pinkie Pie popped out of a rosebush holding up a sign that read, “7”, then dropped down and disappeared. Harry wondered what she was doing.

“Well, when you’re at one end of the Sweet Apple Acres and your sister is at the other end . . . .” Apple Bloom shrugged apologetically.

She waited a moment, then put her hands up again. Harry and the others quickly covered their ears. Just as she was taking a deep breath, Scootaloo came falling out of the sky, pulling up at the last moment to drift to a stop beside the other filly. “Yeah?”

Apple Bloom leaned close and whispered the plan into her ear.

“No!” Scootaloo said, not quite believing her, but leaning back to look at Apple Bloom with an expression of delight. Somehow, she managed to hold her broom absolutely still despite her movements.

Less than a minute later, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo were giving Twilight the Cuteness of Doom look. It took only seconds for the transformed alicorn to give in to their exhortations. With two down, only Applejack and Rainbow Dash remained. Harry knew they would get to them when they came back to the table for tea — although Rainbow Dash might also need a crowbar to separate her from the broom she was riding.

Shaking his head at the antics of the three girls, Ron said, “Did you know they can do wandless magic, dad? And that they’ve been taught since they were little?” A bit of outrage was evident in that last sentence, at the thought that he had been denied something that others had been given.

That attracted the attention of all the wizarding adults.

“They can, can they?” murmured Dumbledore, looking at the three girls. Harry looked at the ground, frowning. The Headmaster was obviously pretending his Deputy hadn’t informed him of their abilities the night before.

The fillies looked at each other and shrugged. Sweetie Belle stepped closer to the table and frowned. Rarity’s cup and saucer slowly rose into the air, hovered, rock steady, then gently returned.

The wizards watched with raised eyebrows. Molly said, “My goodness, would you look at that! And wandless!”

“Is that unusual?” asked Mr. Granger.

“Oh, yes,” answered Mr. Weasley. “True, some children do accidental magic when they’re excited or emotional, but even for adult wizards very few can do wandless magic on demand.”

The Grangers regarded the blushing Sweetie Belle with new respect.

Rarity gave her a big smile. “Well done, Sweetie,” she said proudly. “Excellent control!” Sweetie Belle’s blush deepened. She looked over to the wizards. “We start teaching our little ones to use their magic as soon as they show interest in it.”

“And Harry can even disapparate!” Ron said jealously.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Teleport.”

“So? Show them!”

Harry sighed, there was a flash of light, and suddenly he was on the other side of the garden as the faint sound of bells tinkling faded. A moment later, another flash, more faint bells, and he was back where he had been.

“Wandless apparition,” murmured the Headmaster, eyes twinkling as he stared at Harry.

Harry shook his head, “No, teleportation, not apar-whatever.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

Twilight looked at the old wizard. “Perhaps you could show us what you mean by apparition?”

The Headmaster nodded sagely, “An excellent suggestion.” He stood and held his wand at his side. Twilight Sparkle watched carefully. He started to turn and with a soft pop he was on the other side of the garden. A second equally soft pop and he was back.

She blinked, frowned, and looked a bit upset. “Would you do that again?” she half demanded as she stared intently at the wizard, and watched his every move. Shrugging, eyes twinkling, the Headmaster disapparated from beside the table and apparated to the other side of the garden, then he returned. Both were accompanied by soft, almost silent, pops.

Twilight leaned back in her chair, eyes wide in shock. “That spell is horrible!” she declared, appalled. “Where are the safeties? There’s almost nothing to protect you from getting hurt! And if you’re moving?” She shuddered. “It would probably kill you!”

The wizards and Molly stared at her. “What?” said Arthur.

Twilight stood. “Didn’t you see? The magic is malformed! And there are no safeties except for an obvious attempt to make it only slightly less lethal!” She turned to the fillies and pointed a finger at them, “I forbid you to use that spell! That abomination is simply too dangerous!” She turned back to the Headmaster. “It lets you teleport even when the destination is blocked! That could be fatal! How can you allow anypony to use it? Why haven’t you fixed it?” She ranted in outrage. “Whoever made that was a rank amateur.” She stopped and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did they even think about it,” she asked rhetorically.

The wizards were quite taken aback at her declarations, giving each other astonished looks. “I assure you, Miss Sparkle,” Dumbledore said, “the apparition spell is quite safe for experienced wizards and witches. Although we do restrict its use to Wizards who are of age only, as the younger ones tend to have problems with it.”

Twilight snorted, “I bet they have problems with it!” She stood, arms crossed, thinking hard. “Harry, would you go to Little Whinging?”

“Sure,” he said a bit uncertainly. “What do you want?”

“Oh, here, take these with you.” She floated the fillies’ rucksacks to him from where they had dumped them by the kitchen door.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll try.” He put his rucksack on, then hefted the others by their straps.

“He’s too young for such a distance, especially with that much extra to carry, even if it is shrunken,” Dumbledore objected, “He’ll splinch himself if he tries that!”

“If Harry can’t manage it, the teleport spell simply won’t work. Unlike your apparition spell which would hurt him,” she said derogatorily.

Harry teleported into the sitting-room at Eleven Magnolia Road.

Spike, sitting on the couch watching the telly, jumped two feet into the air. “Celestia!” He cried. “Give a dragon a little warning, will you?” He stood in front of the couch, one hand on his chest, breathing heavily.

Harry grinned at him. “Sorry, Twi sent me to drop these off.” He headed upstairs and dumped the contents of his rucksack, all galleons, on his bed. He did the same with the fillies’ rucksacks in their room.

He was about to return when he had a thought. Moments later, in the sitting-room again, he said, “Hey Spike, wanna meet some wizards and witches?”

Spike looked at him, puzzled. “I thought Twilight wanted me to stay here because you were going to be out with the non-magicals . . . and because that stupid statue thing says I can’t be seen by them. And, she was worried what the magicals would say because dragons are so fierce here.” He looked a bit proud of being considered dangerous and fierce.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “but now we’re at a witch’s house and everyone there knows about magic. And less than ten magicals.”

Spike grinned, “Sure. It’s boring doing nothing here. And I can nap only so much.”

“Hop in,” Harry said, squatting down beside the couch so Spike could climb into his rucksack. “All set?”

“Woah, this is pretty comfy,” Spike said, standing in the rucksack with one clawed hand on Harry’s right shoulder while he looked over Harry’s left. Harry stood up. “Wow, the view up here is much better, too!”

“Yeah, just don’t set my hair on fire, okay?”

“Hay, it only happened once to Twilight! And that was just bad timing that Princess Celestia sent a message right then.”

“Still . . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” the little dragon said, slightly disgruntled at the accusation. He was quite proud of his flame control.

“Ready?”

“Yep”

And Harry was back in the Weasley garden to the faint sound of tinkling bells.

Twilight smiled happily at him. “See, Headmaster, no problems whatsoever. If he couldn’t make the trip for any reason, the spell would have simply not worked. And it automatically includes whatever the caster wants, as long as the caster has the power to do it.”

The wizards were staring at Harry with wide eyes.

“Is that a dragon?” Ron said loudly, pointing.

“Hiya, mum,” Spike said, waving. “Now this is the way to travel! Nice and comfy, no worries about falling off or having to hold on!” He grinned happily.

“It talks!” the twins said in chorus

“Of course I talk!” Spike said indignantly, “Do you think I’m stupid?”

There was a resounding silence in answer to his question.

“You okay, Harry?” asked Twilight.

“I’m fine,” said Harry, dropping the girls’ rucksacks on the table.

Twilight gave him a glare.

“No, honestly, I’m fine,” Harry protested.

She lowered her head slightly to glare at him under her eyebrows.

Harry sighed. “Okay, I have a slight headache and I feel a little tired, but it has been a busy morning so it doesn’t have to be the teleport!”

Sweetie Belle giggled. “Yes, Harry, we know. You’re always just fine.”

“Yeah,” said Apple Bloom. Also grinning, she looked over at the wizards, “For Harry, ‘I’m fine’ usually translates into ‘I’m not dead yet, thank you for asking.’”

Scootaloo added, “If Harry says ‘I don’t feel good,” you’d better get him to the hospital before it’s too late.” The others stopped laughing and all three nodded seriously.

“But he’s getting better at that, aren’t you, Harry,” Twilight said warningly.

Harry sighed. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Spike jumped down from Harry’s backpack to the table, and looked around.

The wizards, and muggles, stared at him. Mrs. Weasley leaned back a bit from the table.

“What? Haven’t you seen a dragon before?”

“Why yes,” said the Headmaster, “we have, but never have we heard of one so well-spoken as yourself.”

“He’s my son and number one assistant,” Twilight said proudly, “aren’t you Spike?”

Spike blushed under the dual praise.

“I raised him from an egg.” She smiled fondly.

“Yeah,” Spike added, “The day mom hatched me was the day she discovered her cutie mark for magic.” He grinned. “Almost blew up Celestia’s entire school, too!”

“I did not!” Twilight denied, blushing.

Applejack snickered. “I heard they had to rebuild the testing hall, though. Something about needing a whole new roof and replacing all the melted marble columns.”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“You turned your parents into potted plants! Cacti, if I remember correctly!”

“Who told you that?” Twilight demanded, aghast, leaning back in surprise.

“They did, at your coronation party this Spring!”

“It was an accident! I was only eight at the time!” Twilight mumbled, now blushing as red as a beet. “And Princess Celestia turned them back to normal immediately afterwards,” she said, louder.

“Yeah, well Shining Armour told me he’s caught both of them standing in the back-garden in the sun on hot summer days! Just standing there! They say it’s quite peaceful and relaxing. He told me that when he discovered them in the back-garden the third time, your dad asked him spray them with some water because he was feeling a bit thirsty. He’s pretty sure your dad was joking, but sometimes he wonders.”

Twilight covered her face with her hands and groaned.

Applejack and Rarity laughed while the fillies giggled. Spike just grinned and walked across the table to give his mum a hug. “And Princess Celestia made you her personal student, and you got me, so it wasn’t all bad, was it Twi?” Spike said.

The wizards were listening intently, Harry saw, expressions ranging from surprise (most of the adults) to awe (especially the twins) to concentration (Dumbledore).

“What’s so funny? If you don’t mind telling me, that is. It’s okay if you don’t want to . . . .” Fluttershy appeared to have been hiding behind Applejack.

“Oh, Fluttershy, we were just reminiscing about the day Spike was hatched and we all got our cutie marks.”

“And picking on me,” Twilight put in, still hiding behind her hands, her elbows on the table. Spike was leaning against her hugging her head.

“Anyway,” she said, changing the subject as she sat upright, dislodging Spike. “I can’t believe you use that . . . that abomination of a spell!” she said as she scowled. “It looks like something a First Year at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Uni . . . Students would put together. Our teleport spell is an elegant solution of magical engineering!”

“Whatever do you mean?” Arthur Weasley asked.

The Headmaster listened attentively.

Twilight sighed. “Let’s break it down, shall we?

“First, with that . . . apparition,” she shuddered, “you specify your destination. That’s alright. Second, you start to gather your magic. That’s wrong! Third, you do a check on your person. Fourth, you push your magic through your stick.”

“Wand,” corrected Mr. Weasley.

“And that’s all you do!” She shook her head and threw her hands up in the air, exasperated.

“The second step should be setting your safeties! Is the destination blocked? Is there room for you at the destination? Is it safe at the destination? Is the integrity routine engaged? Is the power requirement routine engaged? Is the interference lockout set?

“The third step is pushing your magic into the spell. The fourth step is to release the spell! And nothing happens until all the safeties are satisfied! Then and only then does the spell complete and you teleport.

“I’ll show you!” Using her magic she pulled out her quill, ink, and paper from her purse and started writing and drawing with her magic. The quill fairly flew across the page. She leaned over the paper with her forearms against the table, her brow furrowed in concentration.

The Weasleys stared at her, astounded at the display of fine-control wandless magic. The Headmaster, on the other hand, was watching Twilight intently. Harry and the fillies just rolled their eyes while the other Equestrians watched, amused. The Grangers looked on, puzzled.

Hermione had slowly moved around the table and was now watching over Twilight’s shoulder. Sweetie Belle joined her a moment later.

Twilight finished one paper and started a second. Then pulled out a third sheet and began to copy things over to it from the first two. After a few minutes, Twilight sat up. “There,” she said in satisfaction, “that should do it. This version will work with your wands.”

She turned to the Weasley parents, “Do you have a wand I can borrow for a few minutes?”

“Did she just redesign a spell?” whispered one twin incredulously to the other.

“And only took a few minutes to do it,” said the other. They looked at each other

“That’s supposed to be . . . ,”

“. . . extremely difficult.”

“And dangerous.” They nodded in sync.

“We approve!”

Headmaster Dumbledore studied Twilight carefully.

The two adults looked at each other. “Well, I think we might have a spare in the nightstand?” said Mrs. Weasley uncertainly. Mr. Weasley nodded in agreement.

“Take mine,” said one of the twins stepping forward.

“Wonderful,” said Twilight, taking it from his outstretched hand before his parents could object. She turned to Hermione. “Here, take this.” She held out the wand.

Gingerly, as if afraid she might break it, the girl took the wand in her right hand.

“Now look at this,” Twilight held up the paper she had been drawing on. “See this line of numbers and symbols? Memorize it.”

Hermione stared at the paper, her lips moving slightly as she studied it. Sweetie Belle looked over her shoulder and nodded. She had learned this spell months ago, not that she could get it to work. The only differences were the changes Twilight made to accommodate somepony using a wand instead of their horn. Finally, Hermione closed her eyes a moment, then looked back at the paper. She smiled and said, “Done!”

Twilight said, “Now, look at this diagram. See how the numbers and characters loop around and back to here? And the rest of the numbers and characters loop over here? And that symbol is in this circle where they both end?” For the next few minutes, Sweetie Belle and Harry watched as Twilight gave the girl the short form of the hours-long lecture they had endured when she had explained the spell first to him and then to her last year. While he had teleported before, it was a foal’s teleport and not something you want to use on a regular basis — for the very reasons she had just explained.

By the time the Princess had finished, Hermione had a bare-bones understanding of the symbols on the paper and how they related to each other. Twilight then grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. She leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against the girl’s, and said, “Now run through the equation, fitting it to the diagram layout.”

Harry realized that the place Twilight was pressing against Hermione’s head was where her horn would be if she had one. She had done the same thing to him several times over the year as she taught him spells. She would cross horns with him to watch him build the spell in his horn. Neither moved for several moments.

“Good,” said Twilight, leaning back and nodding her head. She released Hermione’s hand. “Now, see that rosebush over there.” She pointed. Hermione nodded. “Teleport over there by building the spell in your mind.” Hermione looked at her. Twilight nodded again. “Picture the diagram in your mind, run through the equation I showed you, just as you did a moment ago. Then push your magic into the spell, and release the spell.”

Hermione stood there for a moment and looked at the rosebush. Then she turned to Twilight. “Nothing happened,” she said disappointedly.

“You have to want to go there, dear,” said Rarity. “Merely looking at it isn’t enough.”

Mr. Granger snorted. “You want motivation?” He stood up and took something from his wife’s purse. He walked over to the rosebush and held up a book. “Hermione, here’s a new book we picked up at that wizarding bookstore, it’s Famous Witches of the Twentieth Century.” He wriggled it back and forth a couple of times. “We were going to save this for your birthday next month. You can read it tonight only if you teleport over . . .”

Hermione took the book from his hand, bells faintly tinkling in the background.

“. . . here?” he finished, blinking his eyes from the flash of light

She smirked at him, then stuck out her tongue. She opened the book and started to read as she slowly walked back to the table. The wand stuck up from her hand as she held the book. “Thank you, daddy,” she called out distractedly.

“I guess we’ll have to find something else for her birthday,” her mother said dryly as she glared at her husband.

“That’s not fair!” complained Sweetie Belle. “I’ve been working on that spell for months!” She stomped over to the other girl. “May I use the wand?”

Hermione didn’t look up from the book, she just tilted the book so the wand in her hand pointed at the other girl.

Sweetie Belle took the wand and turned around to face the table. She scowled as Harry smirked at her. She took a deep breath, let it out. She frowned, and reappeared beside the table in a flash of light and sound of bells. Her eyes shot wide open. “I did it! I finally did it!” She started hopping in place.

Rarity stood and hugged her, stopping the bouncing, momentarily. “Wonderful, Sweetie Belle, I knew you could do it!”

Sweetie Belle hugged her in return, then smirked at Harry. She and Rarity disappeared in a flash of white. “Oh my Celestia!” they heard from the kitchen. And a moment later the two were again outside by the table. “Now, behave yourself,” Rarity admonished.

Still grinning like a fool, Sweetie Belle, said, “Of course, Rarity.” She gave her sister another happy squeeze. Eyes shining, Sweetie Belle turned and walked, no, bounced over to the twins. She stopped and wavered for a moment. “Woah,” she said quietly, “That was tiring.” She blinked a few times, then held out the wand, and said, “Thank you. I really appreciate you letting me use your wand!”

“See!” exclaimed Twilight, pointing at the two as she stared at the adult wizards. “So easy, I taught a child how to do it safely in only a few minutes. And if you tried to take a passenger with you using that, that, apparation, like she just did, they would probably get sick, or hurt, because your spell is so malformed.” She scowled and mumbled, “How you can’t see that, I don’t know!”

Barely loud enough for Harry to hear, and he was sure they were trying to prevent their parents from hearing, the Weasley twins whispered to Sweetie Belle. “Think you could. . .”

“. . . teach us that spell?”

She grinned at them, “Sure!”

They grinned back at her and began herding her a bit farther away from the table.

“I’ll need a quill and paper,” she said.

“No problem!” said one twin as he pulled a crumpled paper out of a pocket while his brother pulled out a quill and ink bottle.

Dumbledore had probably heard the same conversation Harry had, because he sternly said, “I must remind you, Harry,” as he looked the boy in the eye. “Miss Belle,” he switched to her as she turned to look at him. “Miss Granger,” Hermione turned a page, still reading. “It is against Ministry law for underage children to apparate. And Apparition itself requires a license for adults.” He pointedly did not look at the twins. “So, please, restrain yourselves until you are of age.”

“But it’s not apparating!” objected Twilight.

“I’m sure the Ministry will take your arguments under consideration, but as far as they are concerned, if Mr. Potter or Miss Belle are caught teleporting and they have a wand in their possession, the Ministry will conclude that they must have apparated.”

Twilight frowned, but couldn’t really argue against him. There was no way to prove that Harry or Sweetie Belle hadn’t used their wand to teleport in that situation.

Harry and Sweetie Belle exchanged looks, and tried to hide their smiles. So, if they didn’t have their wands with them when they teleported, then the Ministry couldn’t say they were apparating, now could they? No wand meant no apparating!

“And that brings up another subject,” Dumbledore continued in a more jovial tone, “It strikes me that Harry and his friends might find it beneficial to stay for a time in a magical environment instead of at Little Whinging. Once they get their wands they won’t be able to use them in muggle neighbourhoods, but they could practice here.”

Hermione looked up from her book, crushed that she wouldn’t be able to practice magic at home. And her parents were none too happy to hear of the obvious advantages the wizard-born had.

Mrs. Weasley looked scandalized as she said, “But children are not supposed to use their wands out of Hogwarts!”

The Headmaster looked at her smiling kindly. “Everyone knows that the pureblood families let their children practice magic behind the protective charms surrounding their homes. Some even encourage it,” he said softly. He paused and looked at the Grangers, “It’s only the muggle-born living without those charms that are restricted.”

The twins were both high-fiving each other behind their parents’ backs at the way the Headmaster had neatly maneuvered their mother into allowing them to use their wands whenever they were at home.

“You don’t mind, do you, if the children stay here until the train for Hogwarts leaves?” The old wizard turned to look at the Weasleys.

Molly gave an uncertain look at her husband. He nodded, and looked deliberately at the old wizard. She looked between the two for a moment. She seemed to consider how doing a favour for the Headmaster might help her family. Then she said, “No, of course not, we’d love for them to stay.”

Then she paused a moment, thinking on how the arrangements might work out for the family. She smiled and clasped her hands together happily. “With both Bill and Charlie out of the house, we have plenty of room for the girls. And Harry can share with Ron.” By this time, she was actually excited at the thought of having four girls to keep her daughter company.

Twilight was surprised at the offer, but Rarity spoke first, “Oh, that is exceedingly generous of you to offer! Unfortunately, we have already planned for the . . . girls and Harry to return home with us until school starts.”

۸-ꞈ-۸

32 — Appearances can be Deceiving

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32 — Appearances can be Deceiving

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were staying at Eleven Magnolia Road? And won’t Mr. Potter miss his friends if he’s in Little Whinging and they are in your homeland?” He looked between the fillies and Harry.

Twilight stared at him a moment, then said, “Oh, no, Harry will be returning with us. His . . . relatives,” she made a face as if she had tasted something bitter, “are quite busy at the moment and won’t be returning to Little Whinging for a while. I’m sure they won’t care whether he’s at our place in Little Whinging or not. It’s all the same to them. As long as they don’t have to worry about Harry, they’re perfectly happy.”

The Equestrians’ solicitor had been rather surprised at just how much the Dursleys hadn’t cared where Harry was when he had talked with them at the police holding facility. As Harry had expected, the scumbags had been disappointed when Dudley had told them he was still alive, but delighted when Yueshi had said Harry wished to keep as far from them as they wanted to be from him. That, and relieved that they wouldn’t be charged with murder. Not that they considered that a crime in regards to Harry’s freakish heredity.

Lin had meant to ask about the possibility of making Twilight his legal guardian, but for some reason had forgotten to mention the subject. He was still puzzled about that, but Twilight had suggested that magic might be involved, and that they should wait on that subject. There was no real hurry, after all — he was going to be at a boarding school for the next ten months.

“That is true,” Rarity agreed with Twilight. “But leaving them here, unsupervised, would be asking for trouble.”

That the Headmaster had told her children it was okay to use their wands at home when she had been refusing them for years had certainly put Mrs. Weasley in a bad mood. Hence her frosty reaction of, “Oh, I assure you, I can watch over them quite easily.” Having her parenting skills questioned wasn’t improving her mood in the slightest.

“Oh, I’m sure you have plenty of practice, my dear, what with having so many children,” Rarity said soothingly. “But the Crusaders are more than a handful for anyone.” The other mares nodded. Rarity turned to where she had last seen Sweetie Belle, but the filly and the Weasley twins were nowhere in sight. She frowned and turned to Apple Bloom and Scootaloo instead. “How you thought the four of you could catch a hydra the size of this house,” she waved a hand at the Weasley homestead, “I’ll never figure out!” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And then there was the time you set the Everfree Forest on fire. It took three days to put it out.”

They blushed, and Scootaloo said defensively, “It was an accident, we only wanted to get some honey!”

“And the bee swarm that infested the Town Hall the next week.”

“I didn’t know the queen bee followed me when I went to warn the Mayor about the fire!” Harry said apologetically.

“And then you decided to make fireworks because of all the charcoal created by the fire,” Applejack added, “and burned down mah barn! And then you decided that nitro-glycerine might be safer to make — and Twilight told me she is still finding pieces of the west orchard storehouse — and she’s in Ponyville.” Twilight was nodding her head. “Two thousand celestials away!”

“Celestials?” several of the incredulous, listening wizards said.

“A thousand Celestials is about one of your miles,” Twilight explained.

Rarity turned back to the wizards. “And that was only one month at the beginning of last summer!”

Harry and girls looked embarrassed. Harry was just happy the mares hadn’t learned about some of their other exploits that summer.

The wizards looked amazed.

Despite the revelations about the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ rather unfortunate ventures, the Headmaster persisted. “Are you sure we can’t change your minds?”

Twilight and Rarity were both shaking their heads ‘no’ when Mr. Weasley spoke up. “Perhaps, Headmaster, you could arrange to put their house on the floo-network. That way they could come over here during the day while still returning home in the evenings?”

“An excellent suggestion, Arthur!” The Headmaster looked very pleased at that thought. “It would give your children,” he said to Twilight and Rarity, “a chance to acclimate to our world during the day while their parents are working, and let them enjoy family time in the evenings at home!”

Noticing Hermione’s dejected expression, Harry said, “Can you do the same for Hermione? It’s not fair, after all, if we get that and she doesn’t.”

Dumbledore studied the girl and her family, eyes twinkling. Then he glanced over to the Equestrians and saw their expressions. Ignoring the children, the adults were all nodding that that would be the fair thing to do.

He smiled and said, “Why, I think I might be able to convince the Minister to grant two exceptions for us.” Hermione squealed and started hopping in place. “I’ll send an owl as soon as I have appointments arranged.”

His eyes twinkled madly as he stood. “Well, I think I need to get on with my day. I have some appointments I cannot put off!”

He turned to Twilight. “Might I see your Teleportation Spell, Miss Sparkle? I think it might be of interest to the Ministry’s Department of Magical Transportation.”

“Certainly!” Twilight responded excitedly, standing as she grabbed her notes and hurried around the table. Mr. Weasley quickly stood beside the Headmaster and listened closely as she began her standard teleport lecture. It was shorter than the one Harry had endured, but was a quite bit longer than what she had told Hermione just a little while ago.

The children spent the rest of day flying. Scootaloo was a natural, of course. Harry was as well, although to a lesser degree — not surprising given the advantages Scootaloo’s pegasus heritage gave to her. Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were much more reserved and unsure on the brooms even as they were thrilled at being able to fly like the pegasi. All the adult Equestrians took turns flying, as well.

Hermione kept letting others take her turn until she finally admitted, “I’m afraid of heights,” blushing. But with Ginny and the fillies insisting she agreed to keep practising.

To help reassure her, her mother said, “Honey, let me ride with you. I’m sure that will help.” Her father nodded his assent.

Hermione stared at her parents, then said, “You just want to fly on a broom, don’t you?” From their guilty looks Harry figured her guess was right on the money.

Still, she did seem to be a bit more relaxed with one of her parents riding as a passenger with her.

The twins, with Ron’s exuberant help, told the Equestrians about Quidditch, which boiled down to:

“It’s rather simple game with a ridiculous number of rules.”

“There are seven people on each team.”

“A goal Keeper to protect the three rings,” Ron pointed at the makeshift Quidditch pitch the Weasleys had built.

“Three Chasers who try to throw this ball, the Quaffle, through one of the hoops for ten points.”

“Two Beaters who hit these balls, Bludgers, and try to knock the other team’s players off their brooms while protecting their own teammates.”

“And the Seeker, whose job is to catch the Snitch, which ends the game and gives his team one hundred and fifty points.”

“The Snitch is devilishly difficult to catch. It sometimes hides where it can’t be seen and you have to wait for it to come out.”

“That means both teams’ Chasers try to get a one hundred and fifty point lead over the other team, thus preventing the other team from winning even if they do catch the Snitch!”

The Weasley’s then put on a sample match, after dragging Percy out of his room and arguing whether their sister could fly a broom and play.

۸- ̬ -۸

Deciding which broom to get was easy — “The Nimbus 2000 is the best broomstick on the market,” said Mr. Kneen, the salesman and proprietor of the Broom Shop. He was a moustached, blonde-haired wizard with blue eyes and wearing matching blue robes. “It’s loaded with the latest in safety features and can out-fly anything on the market today.” He smiled proudly. “I just got them in last week!”

Even though it was late in the afternoon, it was crowded in the shop. Of course, their group did make up most of the customers — all ten of the Equestrians, the three Grangers, and four of the Weasley children with Arthur as escort. Still, there were several other children and adults admiring the various brooms on display. Not to mention those spectators outside drooling over the newest professional-grade broomstick on the market.

Ginny was wandering around the shop with Ron, both obviously dreaming of owning a new broom but seeming to know it was never going to happen. The twins were studying the Nimbus carefully, probably, Harry thought, trying to determine if they could add any of its speciality spells to their brooms at home.

The fillies and Harry were looking around attentively, but keeping close watch on Rarity and Twilight. Dash was excitedly jumping from one display to another, reading with wide eyes the various features each model sported. Fluttershy hid behind Applejack, while Pinkie Pie occasionally peeked at them from behind a display or the back-room of the shop.

Rarity nodded and looked at the fillies and Harry speculatively. She slowly turned in place, briefly looking at the other brooms on display, as well as how the other customers were all casting envious eyes on the Nimbus in the window and the one currently on the counter.

“Each straw in every Nimbus 2000 is individually inspected and spelled to perfection before being bound to the other straws destined for that broom. Each straw is magically balanced against its neighbours to provide the best performance possible,” the shop’s owner continued. “Protection, safety, and comfort runes are carved in the broomstick handle in triple redundancy, so that should one set be damaged or worn down through heavy use, the broomstick will retain all its capabilities without any degradation in performance.”

Rarity looked at Sweetie Belle who was nodding eagerly. “Excellent,” Rarity said, “we’ll take eleven.”

Rainbow Dash, the fillies, and Harry, all high-fived each other. Practically everyone else in the store, including the owner, had their jaws dropped down. Harry snickered. If they had been on Equestria, he knew, their jaws would literally have been on the ground. Here, it wasn’t as dramatic, but it was equally funny.

“E-eleven?” stuttered Mr. Kneen

“Yes. You do have sufficient stock on hand, don’t you?”

That snapped the wizard out of his stunned state. “Oh, yes, I do have those in stock. Let me get them for you. I’ll be right back.” He hurried off into the back of the shop. Pinkie Pie stepped out to hand him the eleven boxes she was somehow managing to carry.

The decision finally made, Twilight immediately moved over to the magazine and book display beside the counter.

“ ’Cor,” said Ron. “Eleven Nimbus 2000s?”

“Stunning . . .”

“. . . absolutely stunning,” said the twins.

“You’re getting one for each of you?” asked Arthur, still taken aback at the thought of anyone buying that many terribly expensive brooms.

“Oh, no,” said Rarity. “One is for Dash and four are for the fillies and Harry. The rest are for your children and Hermione.”

“Oh, no,” objected Mr. Weasley, “We can’t accept that! Those brooms are far too expensive. The Weasleys do not accept charity.” He was shaking his head emphatically no. The Weasley children looked torn between desperately wanting the brooms, and rejecting what they saw as a handout.

“That’s right,” put in Mr. Granger. “You’ve already spent far too much on Hermione when you gave her the wand and that trunk.”

Looking at Grangers — Hermione was still staring wide-eyed at the broom in the window — Rarity said, “Now, you know that’s not true! If Twilight hadn’t given Hermione those wand materials, she would simply have thrown them away,” she mimed tossing something over her shoulder, “when we got back home. Twilight is much happier knowing they are of use to someone, instead. And, as I told you, the five children’s trunks were free after the discount for buying seventeen of the deluxe trunks.”

Mr. Weasley and the twins staggered at the thought of anyone buying seventeen deluxe trunks. Just buying Ron’s student trunk, used, had considerably set back their finances! Just how rich were these foreigners?

“And how can free be considered spending money buying something expensive?” Rarity asked, arching an eyebrow inquiringly. “And as for the broomstick, it wouldn’t be fair for Hermione to play that quidditch game with the others on a clearly inferior broom, now would it?” She smirked, “Besides, I’m sure the bulk discount we’ll get for these broomsticks will easily offset the price for Hermione’s. If it makes you feel better, if the discount doesn’t cover the full cost of her broomstick, then you can pay us back the difference later.”

She turned back to the wizard. “And, as for you, Mr. Weasley,” she said in that frosty dictatorial tone matrons used when reprimanding children, “you clearly do not know the difference between charity and a gift from a friend! Charity is when you receive something you need but lack the wherewithal to acquire on your own. For example, if I were to purchase and give to your daughter the books she needs for attending Hogwarts, and you were unable to afford them yourselves, then that would be a charity.

“These brooms, however, are a gift, from one friend to another. They are a thank you for your selfless offer to let the fillies and Harry impose upon your generosity to use your farm and your hospitality to practice magic and fly on their brooms every day for the next month until school starts! Especially considering that they wouldn’t be able to do either of those things in Little Whinging.

“Besides, it wouldn’t be fair for the fillies and Harry to play against your children in quidditch with brooms that clearly outclass the brooms you already have. To do that would engender jealousy, envy, and resentment on your children’s part over their old brooms, and embarrassment, shame, and anxiety on the part of the fillies and Harry for upstaging their new friends. And there is no way we will allow such disharmony to come into play between your family and us.

“Also,” she smiled at the twins, “I overheard the twins saying that they would be happy to take the new brooms to school for the fillies and Harry so that they can fly their new brooms at school all year. How can we not return such generosity?”

She smirked. “On the other hoof, we could say that these are all belated birthday gifts to your children.

“And, finally, these are not my gifts, they are the fillies and Harry’s gifts.”

The Weasleys and Grangers, and most of the rest of the customers in the store who had drifted over to listen, all stared at Rarity as if she were barking mad. Then they looked at the three girls surrounding Harry, all of whom were blushing.

Harry could see that Mr. Kneen had remained back by the back-room door to his shop. There was no way he was going to step into an argument between friends when it could mean losing the largest single sale of broomsticks he probably would ever have. And especially not when it concerned a high-end product like the Nimbus!

“It’s their bits to do with as they desire. They’re the ones who spent their Friday afternoon digging in the dirt,” she shuddered delicately, “to find a few gems to trade to the Goblins for spending bits.”

“And they have enough to afford all those broomsticks?” Mr. Weasley asked incredulously.

“They most certainly do,” Rarity said proudly. “The Goblin, Knifethrower, I think his name was, said they are now Gringotts’ tenth largest depositor!” She glanced at Twilight, a playful smile touching her lips, “Although the Princesses’ briefcase of gems might beat them. We’re still waiting for the Goblins’ assessment.”

Everyone in the shop was staring at the Equestrians.

“And they weren’t nearly as impressed with the gems we gave them,” Twilight grumbled good-naturedly, looking up from adding yet another book to the pile she was carrying.

Mr. Kneen finally started back to his front counter with a dozen small boxes in hand. “I took the liberty of shrinking the packages to make them more convenient for you carry,” he said placing them on his counter.

“Oh, thank you,” said Rarity, “That’s very thoughtful of you. What sort of discount do we get for buying in bulk?”

The wizard blinked, taken aback at the request. He looked at the boxes on his counter and pursed his lips. He was clearly mulling over if he wanted to chance angering this very rich customer.

“Oh, we’ll also need a eleven of those Deluxe Broom Maintenance Kits I see over there,” she said, pointing. “And, Twilight,” she continued, looking at the transformed mare who already had an armful of books, “perhaps we should take one each of those books and magazines. I don’t recall seeing any of those books in the bookstore.”

The owner took a look at the books the other woman was rapidly piling on the counter, glanced at his stock of broom maintenance kits, smiled, and said, “I believe a nine percent discount would be fair, don’t you?” He looked at Rarity brightly.

After paying for everything, Sweetie Belle started loading her rucksack with the shrunken brooms while Twilight started loading the books into her purse as Mr. Kneen shrank them. The magazines were relegated to Scootaloo’s rucksack as they figured the children would want to look through those first.

After that, picking up the finished trunks was easy and took only a few minutes.

Truckle had made four stacks of their trunks. One stack of three dwarfed the others in width and length and were black instead of the neutral brown that the rest were coloured. “These three are the triple-sized trunks you wanted,” he explained. Princesses Celestia and Luna would have no difficulty fitting onto the elevators of those trunks, nor using the interior facilities.

That a blood sample was required for the security system to lock a trunk to a particular person was a surprise. There were squares of cloth over the centre plate on the front, Rainbow Dash discovered, were to prevent someone from accidentally giving a blood sample. Just touching the bronze plate was enough to secure the needed sample, as Dash’s surprised and indignant, “It bit me!” demonstrated when she unwisely flicked the cloth aside to see what was hidden there. The others quickly claimed a trunk for their own to forestall errors.

“Now, then,” said Mr. Truckle, “Just press and twist this emblem here,” he pointed to an owl beside the left latch, then pressed it firmly while twisting clockwise, “to shrink the trunk to pocket size.” He bent over and picked it up. “It automatically engages a featherweight charm.” He tossed it up and down in one hand. The emblem now took up the front of the card-deck-sized trunk. “To restore it, do the same thing.” He bent down and placed it on the floor, “But put it down first.” He demonstrated enlarging the trunk. “Otherwise you’ll drop it when its normal weight returns and hurt someone or break something when it falls to floor — nothing inside, just things outside might not like having a trunk dropped on them.” He laughed nervously.

“You can engage the featherweight charm while leaving the trunk at full size by pressing and sliding the owl, like this.” He again demonstrated, and then lifted the trunk with two fingers through the carrying strap.

“There are special security features, and other charms you can use to personalize the trunk to your needs, including its outside colour scheme, and allowing others access. There’s a manual on the kitchen counter.” He smiled happily at them. “The Deluxe trunks are all linked via an internal-only Floo-network. You can hook it up to the Ministry’s Floo-network, but then your network is subject to their inspection and oversight, including shutting it off completely. The manual has more details.” He smiled at them happily. “I included inside each trunk a small quantity of Floo-powder in the carved basin on the right-side of the fireplace to get you started.

“And is there anything else I can help you with?”

They shook their heads and started putting the shrunken trunks into Harry’s rucksack.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Mr. Truckle pulled a box up from behind his counter. “Here are five complimentary book-bags for you. They’re rune-charmed with a featherweight charm, an undetectable expansion charm, and an impervious charm to keep them in pristine condition as long as you use them. You can use a simple colour-changing charm to make them match your House colours.”

He pulled the five out of the box and handed them to Harry. “And there’s a special pocket on the inside of the flap, here,” he pointed to a buttoned opening about the size of his hand. “Where you can store your shrunken trunk while traveling without having to worry about the undetectable expansion charm in the bag interfering with the charms in the trunks — remember, it’s a very bad idea to put something that has a larger undetectable expansion charm in it inside an item with a smaller undetectable expansion charm.” He shook his head. “Very bad,” he emphasized.

That the Weasleys were watching enviously was an understatement. Harry decided that if they were still friends come Christmas, he would purchase books-bags like these for them. In the meantime, he could see Hermione was already calculating how many books she could stuff inside her book-bag.

۸- ̫ -۸

Back at The Burrow, Harry had an idea. “Hay,” he said to the girls. “Why don’t we leave one of the deluxe trunks here and have Hermione take one to her house. Then we don’t have to wait for the old geezer to set up that floo-network. We can just use the network built into the trunks!”

That met with unanimous approval among the fillies. And took only a few moments for them to set up. They left Scootaloo’s trunk in the Weasley sitting-room because of all the traffic it would see, and Hermione promised she would set up Apple Bloom’s in her room. And this way, when Harry flew out of the floo in the trunks, there wouldn’t be anypony else around to see his humiliation at not mastering that particular method of transport. And they could put cushions out so he didn’t get hurt.

On the other hand, Mrs. Weasley was clearly less than pleased at the broomsticks Rarity had talked Mr. Weasley into accepting. However, she couldn’t refuse what he had already accepted, so she gave them all a thin smile and told them it was fine with her. Her words didn’t quite match her expression, though. Harry was sure there would be words spoken on that issue in the privacy of their bedroom that night.

To say that the Weasley children were thrilled with their new brooms was an understatement. Harry was pretty sure the twins weren’t exaggerating when they told him, the next day, that Ron was sleeping with his broom. He wasn’t so sure that they weren’t doing the same with their brooms, too.

The Equestrians had a late dinner at Magnolia Road, and Twilight told them of her plans to see that the trunks were delivered to her parents and the Princesses the next day. Pinkie Pie and Applejack would be making arrangements to send their relatives their extra trunks. Applejack planned a long letter while Pinkie said, “I’ll just wait until it arrives at home, then pop out and tell them all about it!”

After Twilight and the others left after breakfast the next day, Harry, the fillies, and Rainbow Dash hopped into Harry’s trunk and used its floo access to get to the Weasleys. Hermione had apparently arrived only a few minutes before them and was already telling the Weasley clan, “I read our Magical Theory textbook last night and it is soo interesting!”

She was wearing her wizarding book-bag and Harry was positive it had everything her parents had purchased yesterday in it, except, maybe, the clothes.

There were several new wizards and witches at the Weasley house, as well. The twins, it seemed, had notified their quidditch teammates about their new brooms.

The twins introduced Harry and the four girls to the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team: Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. All of whom were shocked to hear that the Weasleys were now the proud owners Nimbus 2000’s.

Once outside, Hermione made herself at home at the table while the others hauled out their brooms and took to the sky.

And while Scootaloo was reluctant to relinquish her broom, Harry, Hermione, and the other two fillies were happy to let the team practice with their Nimbus 2000 brooms. For Harry and the two fillies, the older brooms the Weasleys had were more than sufficient for them to learn to fly. They would save the high-powered brooms for when they were more comfortable with broom-flying.

Watching Scootaloo fly on her broom reduced the entire team to awe-struck shock, with Oliver doing his best to convince the transformed pegasus to become the team’s Seeker at school. Especially when he discovered she could spot the Snitch faster than anyone he had ever seen — even at the professional matches. Harry figured it must be that her hawk-like pegasus eye-sight carried over to her human form.

Lunch was an informal outside affair with Mrs. Weasley — “Just call me Molly,” she insisted to her guests. It was simple, just cheese and biscuits, Harry was pleased to see. The Equestrians had brought their own jam sandwiches and were more than happy to cut them in half and trade.

“So,” Angelina Johnson said, “Fred tells me that you’re actually from another country.” She looked at the three girls. “Where might that be?”

“We’re from a place called Ponyville,” Harry cut in. “We were very surprised that an owl was able to find me there.”

“Really?” Angelina said, lifting her eyebrows inquiringly.

“Yep,” said Scootaloo.

“And George mentioned something about there not being any muggles there?” Angelina said curiously. “I’m a half-blood, my father is a muggle.”

“Nope. Never even heard the word before we came here,” said Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom nodding her head beside her.

“Soo, that would make you all purebloods, right?” said Angelina.

“I guess,” said Sweetie Belle, shrugging. “Never really thought about it.”

Frowning in thought, Angelina said, “Have there never been any muggles in your homeland?”

Sweetie Belle frowned back, “Not that I know of. At least not since our . . . um . . . homeland was founded two and a half thousand years ago.”

“HMM!” said Apple Bloom with a mouthful of sandwich. She swallowed. “Granny Smith told me the Apples can trace the family all the way back to Paradise Valley, and that’s at least three thousand years ago, maybe four. And both the pegasus and unicorn tribes were there, too.

Scootaloo scowled thoughtfully. “The only one who would know for a fact is Discord.”

All three Equestrians shuddered. “Ain’t asking Discord for nothin’!” declared Apple Bloom. “AJ says puttin’ Discord together with the word truthful is an oxymoron.”

Harry shivered. “I met Discord when Twilight took me to visit Fluttershy and he scares me. He was nice enough, but I just got the feeling he was about to do something and I wasn’t going to like it.” The others nodded, agreeing.

“Discord is just too unpredictable,” said Sweetie Belle. “The less said about him, the better,” she said firmly to the witches and wizards.

From behind the three Equestrians and Harry came a deep voice, “Did I hear someone call my name?”

۸- ̬ -۸

33 — Sometimes You Get What You Need

Despite what the twins later claimed, Harry was positive he did not scream like a little girl when he heard the God of Chaos speak behind him. His first thought, he was very willing to admit, was to dive under the table. Instead he stood and stepped partially behind Sweetie Belle’s chair. This put him between Sweetie Belle and the odd man standing in the flower garden.

He was tall and thin, but not too thin. Likewise, his lightly-tanned face was taller than it was wide, with slightly-bushy black hair on top of his head shading to brown at the sides to almost white-blonde at the ends. His eyes were heterochromatic — one sky-blue and the other black. His right hand had a yellow cast and his left was brown. The rest of his clothes hid his body, but Harry had no doubt that he had colours of a variety of humans hidden underneath.

His formfitting, waist-length, long-sleeve shirt was a red against black colour. The red was a panel on the front that reached from the armpits mid-way to the waist — the bottom of the red panel was a wide and shallow upside-down off-centre ‘v’ shape instead of being level. Connecting to the red panel were wide red strips that ran down the fronts of the sleeves. Over his heart was small golden oval with a vertical, asymmetrical arrowhead-shape imposed over it. There were four silver dots on the collar on the right side. He wore black pants.

And he was smirking at everyone’s reaction.

He was, without a doubt to all who knew him, Discord. And Harry knew he had to be very extremely cautious about what he said, and did, around the unpredictable God of Chaos. Fluttershy claimed he was truly reformed, but . . . as the saying went, once burnt, twice as shy.

Harry floated his plate over towards the man. “We were just having lunch,” he said as calmly as he could while trying to hide his shaky voice, “would you like a strawberry jam sandwich?”

Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom stared at the unexpected visitor in horror. The others looked on curiously.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Discord replied. He pulled the plate from Harry’s magic and took a big bite of the plate and sandwich.

The witches and wizards stared, eyes wide and jaws dropped open in shock. Everyone could clearly hear the sounds of the strange creature actually eating the ceramic plate. He swallowed.

“Thank you, Harry!” Discord said, “I was feeling a bit peckish.” He dropped the plate, which turned into lazily-flying rainbow-coloured butterflies before it could hit the ground. “I don’t want to eat too much, I am having tea with Fluttershy in an hour. And she makes such lovely biscuits.”

“Oh,” Harry said, trying to keep the conversation going and in neutral territory. “Allow me to introduce our hosts.”

He pointed at the twins, “These two gentlemen are George and Fred Weasley.”

The one he had called George said, “I’m Fred.”

The other said, “I’m George.”

Discord’s eyes twinkled. “Pranksters, I see.” He looked up at the house behind them, and his smile broadened as he took in the oddly shaped and haphazardly put together building. “Oh, yes,” he said, “I’m going to like this place.” His smile creepily stretched from ear to ear, “There’s even a ghoul in the attic.” He turned back to Harry. “I see you’ve returned home.” He looked around. “So much chaos, I don’t even have to do anything.”

Harry nodded slightly, but continued on gamely, “This is Percy, their older brother, Ron, their little brother, and this is their little sister, Ginny.”

Discord murmured, still smiling, “Ah, yes, the seventh child and first female in seven generations. And quite a crush she has on you, Harry.”

Ginny squeaked and her face turned almost as red as her hair. She ducked down below the table.

Harry glanced nervously back at the God of Chaos. “This is Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. They play on the Hogwarts’ Gryffindor Quidditch team along with George and Fred.”

He paused as the man looked over the three briefly. “Oh, my, you are all quite a treat, I must say.”

The three glanced at each other uneasily, unsure of what he was seeing in them.

“And this is Hermione Granger,” Harry said, indicating the girl gaping at Discord.

The kitchen door popped open and Molly bustled out, “Oh, my! Boys, why didn’t you tell me we had company?” She hurried over, looking at the odd man in her back garden. She held her wand discretely at her side.

“And this must be the lady of the house?” Discord said as looked down at Harry.

“Ah, yes,” Harry said, still trying to act like everything was perfectly fine. “This is Mrs. Weasley,” he said as she came to halt on the other side of the table. “Mrs. Weasley, this is Discord.”

Discord tipped his top hat — it hadn’t been there a moment ago — and said, “A pleasure to meet you, Molly.” The hat disappeared again as soon as he put it back on.

Mrs. Weasley stared at the strange man, a slight frown on her face. She bobbed her head uncertainly in response, murmuring, “Hello.”

Harry glanced at the wizards and witches, hoping he could impress upon them just how dangerous Discord was, before explaining to Discord, “We were talking about purebloods and muggles, and that there have never been muggles at home. Apple Bloom mentioned she could trace her family all the way back to Paradise Valley, three or four thousand years ago. Sweetie Belle mentioned that you were probably the only one who knew for sure when the Earth tribe first developed magic.”

Discord preened under the attention. A snap of his fingers and a blackboard appeared beside him while his clothes changed to look like the robes Professor McGonagall had worn on Tuesday. He was also holding a long pointer stick, which he used to smack the board. The board had a chalk outline of some ponies and a few trees in the background.

“Why, yes, that is true, I suppose. After all I was there when the first Apple — he was barely out of foal-hood, you know — planted his first seed and started it growing.” The blackboard displayed an animation of a pony — who looked suspiciously like Big Mac, Harry thought — doing just that. “Of course, they had magic well before then, just that this was the very first time anyone tried to directly use their magic to grow food.” The God of Chaos smiled toothily at Apple Bloom, who looked terrified that Discord was talking to her and intrigued at what he was saying.

“It was such a joy to watch him and his family run around in a panic when the seed turned into a tiny tree a few seconds later.” The blackboard animation continued. “It took him two days before he returned and planted a second seed to see if it would happen a second time — it did.” He laughed heartily.

Discord leaned closer to Apple Bloom who tried to lean away. “I might have helped the trees grow a tiny bit faster,” he stage-whispered to her. Straightening, he continued in a normal voice. “That was about six thousand years ago, give or take a few hundred.” He smiled at Apple Bloom, “And the Apples have been growing apples ever since then. Except for that short period when I changed all the apples into oranges. And that other time when I made them all pears.” He shook his head, grinning. “Ah, good times, good times! Such chaos!” He sighed happily. The blackboard showed ponies panicking and running around an orchard checking each tree and finding only oranges. “Your Ol’ Granddad is a seedling from that first tree, you know,” he added in a conspiratorial whisper to Apple Bloom.

The wizards and witches were watching and listening with amazed expressions. One of the twins blurted out, “Why is that. . .” he pointed at the blackboard,

“. . . showing horses?” finished his brother.

“Ponies, my boys, ponies,” Discord reprimanded.

Harry and the fillies stiffened. Discord was about to reveal their secret.

“Or would you prefer Llamas?” The chalkboard figures abruptly all looked like Peruvian pack animals. He stared at it a moment, then said, “I could always use Woolly Mammoths, I suppose.” The figures changed again. “Or, perhaps, yaks.” And changed once more.

“Nah,” he said dismissively, “Yaks are too prissy, I prefer ponies. They are so much more fun. They panic so easily, and do such amazing things.”

“Excuse me,” Mrs. Weasley said to Discord, “Are you saying that these children are really . . . ponies?” Her expression and body language, hands on hips, clearly indicated her disbelief.

Harry groaned, and desperately said, “Fluttershy!”

Discord’s wide grin dimmed slightly, then returned. He suddenly was dressed as a blue Genie, with a turban and a muscular upper-body that dwindled into a thin stream of smoke coming from a traditional brass oil lamp beneath him. “Your wish is my command,” he intoned in an ominous tone, staring at the older witch. He snapped his fingers, and Apple Bloom disappeared. A second later, a yellow earth-filly with a red mane and tail floated up from behind the table. Her pink bow, formerly merely large, now looked huge. Harry sighed and slumped a little.

“I think she looks quite cute as a pony, don’t you? She has that strong, silent farmer vibe to her, doesn’t she?”

Apple Bloom glared at Discord over her crossed her forelegs. “AJ is gonna be so mad at you.”

“Nah,” he said, “She won’t mind at all, I’m sure.”

A neon sign decorated with flames appeared behind him. It was flashing “Liar! Liar! Pants on Fire!” It even had an arrow pointed at him.

There was a moment of silence, then both Chasers squealed. Alicia was the closest and managed to snatch Apple Bloom out of the air, “She’s adorable!” She spun on her feet as she hugged the startled filly. Apple Bloom almost disappeared between the two girls.

Scootaloo, whom many at home considered wildly reckless, wasn’t completely without survival instincts. She was already halfway across the garden when Discord snapped his fingers a second time and an orange pegasus-filly with a purple mane skidded to a halt in mid-air and floated back to them, dropping onto the table. Pouting angrily, she said, “Rainbow Dash is not gonna like you doing this to me!”

“And Scootaloo just loves flying, so what pony would be better for her than a pegasus?” crowed the unpredictable being.

He turned to her and grinned. “I doubt it,” he said to her. This time no sign appeared. “She will, at worst, be conflicted.” Scootaloo and Harry stared at him, puzzled.

Oliver and the twins watched closely. The three older boys had already had their creatures-class and seen pictures of the Abraxan flying horses. Frowning, one twin said, “Aren’t her wings too small for her size?”

“And they both certainly have unusual colours for horses.” said the other.

Was this strange man trying to trick them? They looked at him sceptically.

“Ponies, my boys, ponies, not horses.” Discord repeated irritably. Harry gave the twins a wide-eyed panicked look and drew his hand across his throat several times. He hoped they’d get the message to not piss-off the Chaos God.

“Hmm. . . ,” Discord said, casting a critical eye, with a magnifying glass, on the filly. They spun around her and then slowly floated back to him. “Perhaps you’re right.” He murmured softly, then grinned madly and snapped his fingers. “There,” he said smugly.

Scootaloo gave a startled squawk that sent the Weasley family’s chickens racing for their coop. She swung her head violently from side to side to stare at her now enlarged wings. Compared to the pegasi in her class back in Ponyville, her wings were easily larger than the biggest of them, she realized. Almost as big as Dash’s. She gasped.

Discord dropped her to the ground. “Well?” he said. “Aren’t you going to show them your pony-wings work?” He waggled his eyebrows.

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then slowly flapped her wings and lifted herself off the ground. Her expression changed from one of surprise to wonder, then to delight, and then to absolute joy. “YES!” she screamed as she took off into the orchard, leaving an orange and purple trail behind her as she barrel-rolled past the trees.

Harry glared hopelessly at Discord. All of the Princesses’ careful planning and subterfuge was for nothing. “You’re not helping us, Discord,” he hissed as the being turned to look for Sweetie Belle.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” said Discord, smiling as he looked at boy, “How many times has Applejack told you that lying is bad?”

Harry opened his mouth to say that this was different, this was a secret they needed to keep for their safety.

Discord continued before Harry could say a word. “And what would Pinkie Pie say about lying to your friends.”

Harry’s mouth snapped shut.

He stared at Harry and raised one eyebrow while smirking. He leaned close and whispered, “Tell the truth. Just tell it in a way that makes them think what you want them to think.”

Harry frowned in thought, then slowly nodded. He looked around. Fortunately, no one else seemed to have heard their conversation.

Ginny, peeking around the corner of the table, quietly mumbled something, barely above a whisper. But Discord seemed to pick out every word she had said, anyway, although no one else heard more than a murmur.

“Why, certainly, my dear,” he said with a smile and a snap of a finger.

In Ginny’s place stood a small filly with a gold splotched dark-green coat and Weasley-red mane and tail. She was so small her back was well below her mother’s knees.

She frowned and shook herself, then slowly looked herself over. A wide smile gradually filled her face. She spread her wings and gave them a tentative flap. Then another.

Discord snapped his fingers and Scootaloo appeared floating beside him, her wings held flat. Momentarily startled at her abrupt relocation, she jerked her head around trying to figure out where she was. She crossed her forelegs, and, sitting in mid-air, glared at Discord, pouting.

Ignoring her reaction, he pointed at the ponified Ginny. “Perhaps you should show your friend, Ginny, how to use her wings?”

Scootaloo spun in place and stared at the new pegasus. Instead of complaining about her sudden change of location, Scootaloo darted over to Ginny who was still slowly flapping her wings. “What are you waiting for?” she said, “Flap harder and follow me!” Scootaloo started climbing higher.

Hesitantly, Ginny followed her, Scootaloo calling instructions. Soon, both were moving quickly into the orchard.

Just as the two were about to disappear, Mrs. Weasley finally found her voice and yelled, “Ginny, come back here!”

The two hesitated a moment, but then continued.

“GINNY!” Mrs. Weasley bellowed, and started to stalk after them.

“If you hurry,” Discord said slyly, “you can still catch her.” He snapped his fingers, “You’d better fly or she’ll get away,” he goaded. A furious Molly Weasley, now a larger version of her daughter, took off after the errant girls.

Oliver, Ron, and the twins, stared as the irate mother banked into a sharp turn as she dodged an apple tree and disappeared into the orchard, bellowing her daughter’s name. Which, if Harry knew kids, would only stir them to greater efforts in evading said parent for just a little bit longer. It was certainly what pegasi foals did back in Ponyville!

“ ’Cor,” Ron breathed out.

“Blimey. . . ,” said George. Harry knew it was George because a sign hovering over his head said so.

“Look at her go.” said Fred.

The sign vanished just as Fred turned to look at his brother.

“What about Harry, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle?” asked George.

“What would they be?” finished his twin.

“Why, they prefer thinking over brawn, so . . . then it better be . . . ,” Discord snickered and snapped his fingers.

Harry suddenly was his unicorn self.

“Unicorns!”

A muffled, “Horsefeathers!” coming from a nearby bush revealed where Sweetie Belle was hidden.

He grinned broadly as Harry glared at him. Then the chaos god guffawed. “I know,” he said, “let’s see what you all are!” He snapped his fingers yet again.

Oliver turned into a young pegasus stallion. Percy and Ron turned into earth ponies, a young stallion and colt, respectively. The twins became unicorns, young stallions, of course. The two girls currently cuddling Apple Bloom became pegasi mares.

Apple Bloom landed on her hooves with a startled, “WHOA!” while the former witches stared at each other in surprise from their new vantage point closer to the ground. They twitched and stretched their wings and swished tails as they examined each other.

Looking at Oliver, Discord said enticingly, “Imagine playing Quidditch like this!” and lifted an eyebrow.

Oliver gasped, stepped back as his wings shot out, and then he shouted, “YES!”

The girls looked over at him.

The twins looked at each other, then at Discord. “But we can’t ride. . .” Fred said, a sign labelling him hovering over his head.

“. . . a broom like this,” George finished, not looking at his brother, and instead looking cross-eyed at his horn.

“Quite a quandary for a fine pair of unicorns like yourselves,” Discord said. A light bulb lit up over his head.

He suddenly was dressed like a Yankee carnival barker — red-and-white striped jacket, white trousers, and straw hat — and standing on a small stage. Behind him a large curtain hung, decorated with flying pegasi and the headline “Fly Like A Bird!”

“A special limited one-time offer,” he shouted, “Today only! Don’t dawdle, step right up for the experience of a lifetime!” He snapped his fingers and they all turned into pegasi, even Apple Bloom, Harry, and Sweetie Belle.

A second snap of his fingers and the missing three appeared. They settled to the ground as Mrs. Weasley glared at her daughter.

“You are all pegasi until sundown today!” declared the God of Chaos. “Go! Play Quidditch!” And he burst out laughing. Oliver and the rest of the Quidditch team needed no further encouragement and took off towards the Weasley Quidditch field at high speed. Ginny, hearing Quidditch, was hard on the heels of her brothers — this time there would be no arguments about whether she knew how to fly a broom or not! Scootaloo followed closely.

Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Harry were almost as eager. After flying on brooms for hours, the novelty of actually having wings was impossible to ignore. However, Hermione’s hesitation made them pause as well. It took only a few minutes to coax the reluctant girl into the air as she flew under her own power. They knew that a few crashes where she emerged unharmed, except for a bruised ego, and she’d be over her flying fears.

Discord held Mrs. Weasley back. Her face turned red with futile effort as she strained to chase down her disobedient children. She franticly wanted to give them a good talking to.

The God of Chaos crooned softly, “Come, my dear, surely you have had dreams of flying as free as a bird, with nothing beneath your wings but the air.” Molly’s struggles slowed as she listened. “Your flock is safe and having fun. Pegasi are remarkably hardy. They shrug off falls and collisions that would instantly kill a witch or wizard. They ignore such accidents the way you shrug off bumping your hip on a table.” She stopped to look up at the odd wizard. He smiled enticingly. “Have a little fun. You deserve a reward for all your hard work for this family,” he added persuasively. “Take a little time for yourself. Be the little girl you used to be all those years ago, before the war, just for a little while.” He petted her head kindly. “Enjoy yourself for a few hours. When you want to return to normal, just walk into your kitchen and you’ll be back to your,” he stopped and sighed dispiritedly, “boring bipedal self. In the meantime, flap your wings and have a little fun.”

She looked at her wings, as if only now noticing she had them. She flapped them a few times and felt herself lift up into the air.

Discord stepped back and motioned she should follow the sounds of her happy children. He raised his eyebrows and said, “Go on, have fun with your children! Soon, they’ll be gone to school and you won’t have the chance.”

Smiling, she slowly floated up into the air and stared at him. Then she darted off towards the Quidditch field. Her children were startled to hear her laughing as she caught up to them.

Discord watched her go. “Heh,” he said. “That’s a nice bit of chaos in everyone’s plans.” He slipped a monkey-wrench into his pocket. “And no pony can say I hurt a single one of them!” His grin widened. “And they aren't such spoilsports as Picard and Riker.” He paused. “Hmm. Picard and Riker as pegasi . . . that has possibilities!” His smile grew much wider. “And Worf as a cute and adorable Earth Pony. Yes. I like this idea!” He began to laugh.

A loud fire-alarm bell rang out. He looked at the oversized hourglass on his wrist. “Oh, no! I’m late!” He disappeared in a brilliant flash of light.

۸- ̫ -۸

Mr. Weasley stepped out of the floo at The Burrow. He looked around at the silent and dark room, with a puzzled frown. The Burrow was never silent if any Weasley was home. There were no strange smells wafting down the stairs from the twins’ room. There weren’t the bustling sounds, nor the wonderful smells, of his beloved wife preparing dinner. Even the ghoul in the attic was silent.

He gripped his wand tightly and took a slow step towards the kitchen, head swivelling cautiously. He had never come home after work to find an empty and silent house. Something had to be wrong.

The kitchen, too, was empty. But it looked as if Molly had just finished fixing lunch. He looked out the back door to see the table outside still had the remains of lunch on it — half-eaten sandwiches and glasses of water and milk were scattered across the table.

Forgotten reflexes from ten years ago resurfaced and he slowly eased the back door open. His back pressed against the house, he listened carefully. He could hear voices coming from the field the boys used to play Quidditch.

Moving carefully, he made his way through the orchard to the field. The sounds of laughing and happy yelling slowly becoming clearer and helping him relax. There were no screams of terror or pain. It wasn’t as terrible as his imagination had feared.

He stopped at the edge of the field and just stared. There were a dozen flying horses playing Quidditch. A dozen flying horses that were every colour in the rainbow. Colours he had never seen on any horse, anywhere. Not to mention the combinations between manes and coats.

They were moving so fast he could barely keep his eyes on them as they fought over the quaffle. He was just noticing that most of the flying horses, pegasi, had bright red manes and tails when the tiniest of them yelled, “DAD!” and hovered, waving frantically with one hoof.

He had walked out onto the field without noticing. A large Pegasus with a light red coat and dark red mane and tail flew over to him — well, large in comparison to the others. In comparison to him, its head would have barely reached to his stomach. It hovered in front of him, blushing furiously, “I’m sorry dear, I didn’t notice the time. We were having so much fun!” She rubbed her forelegs together nervously.

“Molly?!” He stared at the creature. He slowly picked out her features. His Molly was a flying horse?

His Molly was a flying horse.

“Come on,” she said, hooking one foreleg around his arm and tugging him, “I’ll explain as we walk back.” She snickered. “Well, you’ll walk, I’ll fly.” She suddenly turned to face other pegasi — the red-maned ones, he realized, must be his children — “Dinner in half an hour!” she bellowed.

“Well,” she said as they started back, he walked and she floated beside him at head-height. “It all started when this very odd wizard appeared in our back garden while the kids were having lunch . . . .”

۸- ̫ -۸

Twilight, Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash were not pleased with Harry and the fillies that night as they filled the adults in on what had happened that afternoon. Fortunately for Discord, it seemed that the wizards and witches at the Weasleys’ that afternoon all thought that Discord had been pranking them. Harry’s frantic explanations of the God of Chaos’ prank-loving nature, as well as his examples of the things he had personally seen, corroborated by the fillies, had been sufficient for the day. Their secret of coming from another reality was still safe, for the time being.

And their friends wouldn’t be nearly as surprised at their being ponies when the truth finally did come out.

Which was the only reason that Twilight didn’t immediately storm over to the Weasleys’ home and say, “We told you the Cutie Mark Crusaders were a handful! That you have to keep an eye on them at all times. There’s a reason po . . . people run for cover when those four announce they’re on a project!” And explain, in detail, why attracting the attention of a reality-warping being was a very, very bad idea.

On the other hoof, both Twilight and Applejack were thrilled to hear a bit of ancient history that had heretofore been unknown. “I think I’m going to have a long discussion with Discord at his next tea with Fluttershy,” she stated.

Rainbow Dash had been more interested in hearing about this Quidditich game. She had ignored the flying antics those strange apes, being far more interested in flying her broom the previous day. The fillies and Harry spent the rest of the evening enthusiastically describing how they had played the game.

۸- ̰ -۸

34 — Unfettered, At Last

It took two days for the Department of Magical Transportation to show up at Magnolia Road. And another three days before they showed up at the Grangers. The kids didn’t care, they were using the floo connections in the trunks. They were able to get in as much flying, and, in Hermione’s case, studying with her new friends, as they desired.

To the disappointment of the Gryffindor Quidditich team and all the Weasleys — even Molly, although she tried to hide it — Discord did not make an appearance after that one day. Harry and the fillies were able to impress upon the others that chanting Discord’s name was not a good idea, as he was as likely to turn them into flying squirrels as into flying ponies.

It was actually easy to get the twins to comply.

“If you could do things he could do, imagine the pranks you would pull on people whenever someone interrupted you while you were sleeping or busy doing something really interesting,” Harry had said.

The twins had exchanged looks, shuddered, and talked everyone else out of saying Discord’s name in the hope of getting him to turn them into flying ponies, again.

However, they did notice that they all had a better, almost instinctive, control of their brooms, knowledge of what the weather was about to do, and their eyesight had improved. Oliver said that for the first time ever he could see the snitch when it wasn’t hovering completely still.

Ginny was ecstatic at having the other girls over, a rare event of female company since her best friend’s mother had died earlier that spring and the girl, Luna, didn’t come over anymore. The twins were always too busy with other things to play with their sister — except when they wanted to try a prank, and that had gotten old for her years ago. Now, she avoided them as much as they avoided her. And Ron, well, his idea of a good time was spending hours talking about the Chudley Cannons. But while she liked Quidditch, there were only a certain number of times she could listen to Ron recap the team’s last league championship — 1892 — before fleeing the room, screaming, at the mere mention of it.

When Oliver commented that there was a Quidditch match coming up on the weekend — the Tutshill Tornadoes versus the Wimbounre Wasps, neither of whom were the Chudley Cannons, to Ron’s disappointment — Harry and the girls, and Rainbow Dash, insisted they see the game. It wasn’t a difficult task to convince the others to come along.

The entire string, the six Element bearers, Harry, the fillies, and even Scootaloo’s Aunts, Lofty and Holiday, attended with the Weasleys. The only holdout was Mrs. Weasley, who wasn’t nearly as much a fan as the rest of her family. Even if she had enjoyed her time playing the game as a flying pony.

Rainbow Dash, Lofty, and Scootaloo almost had to be physically restrained from joining the game once they saw how the professionals played. They left the stadium with Rainbow Dash and Lofty planning on setting up a game with Rainbow’s weather team in Equestria. Twilight’s admission that she had several books on the history and rules of the game back at the library had the two adult pegasi racing for the portal home.

۸- ̬ -۸

On Tuesday morning, at breakfast, Harry noticed that his trunk was in the dining-room. “Ah, yes,” said Twilight, when he asked why, “Mr. Truckle, the proprietor of the trunk store has agreed to come over today to teach me and several others everything he knows about the Undetectable Expansion, and the runes that it uses.” She wriggled happily, “There are just so many applications for it back in Equestria!” She grinned at Harry. “And there’s nothing better than to have an expert who’s been using a spell for years to teach you about it!” Harry and the fillies nodded in understanding.

She glanced up at the wall clock. “He’s going to Floo in at nine and I wanted you to be able to come and go as you please without interrupting us in the sitting-room.”

That made sense. And he could see that sort of thing happening pretty frequently as ponies in Equestria started to hear about the portal and the new magic spells being discovered.

۸- ̬ -۸

The group came to a stop outside Ollivander’s. Twilight bounced in place — disturbingly like Pinkie Pie sometimes did at home — as she turned to face them. “Ready Harry? Girls? Oh! This is so exciting!” she gushed. Of the adult Equestrians, only Twilight, Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash had come along to pick up the kids’ wands.

The kids nodded nervously. Impossible as it seemed, Twilight was even more impatient to get a wand than they were.

Harry noticed most of the wizards in the alley had stopped to watch Twilight bounce.

She grabbed the door handle and almost teleported inside, the doorbell tinkling musically.

A soft breeze blew through the Alley as the wizards sighed at her disappearance.

It was a Wednesday afternoon outing, seven days after the wand-maker had taken their wand cores. The Grangers and the Weasleys accompanied them as well — the twins had wanted to pick up a few “school” supplies, they claimed, while Molly did some shopping for the house. That, of course, meant both Ron and Ginny were along as well. Ron was clearly envious of those getting new wands and Ginny a bit sad that she wasn’t getting a wand at all.

To their surprise, they had met both Mr. Weasley and the Headmaster after floo-ing into the Leaky Cauldron. Harry considered it highly suspicious that the Headmaster just happened to need to talk with the creepy wand-maker the same day they went to pick up their custom-made wands. And Harry never did hear why Mr. Weasley was there as well, even Mrs. Weasley was surprised to see him. Applejack, Harry was relieved to see from her frown, was just as sceptical.

Mrs. Weasley and the twins went their separate ways at the wand shop, but not without a final warning to the twins to, “. . . behave. Or else.” The look she gave them would have kept Harry on the straight and narrow. From the way they rolled their eyes, he got the impression it was her standard warning for them.

Like their previous visit, the small store easily accommodated them all even though it was definitely too small to do so when looking in from outside. And, again like their previous time, the old wand-maker startled them by abruptly appearing behind the counter. “Good afternoon,” he said softly. He looked over the group and nodded to Dumbledore, “Headmaster.”

He returned his attention to the rest of the herd, “And right on time,” he said approvingly. He reached below his counter and began laying a row of wand boxes on top. “Six wands for six customers.” Harry thought his smile was more than a little creepy.

The old man turned his attention to Ron and Ginny. “I expected you here a bit earlier, but better late than never,” he said to Ron.

Ron stared back at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“And you, my dear, will have to wait until next year,” he said, addressing Ginny.

Then he turned his attention back to the Equestrians, “But first, let’s see how well your new wands like you.”

He carefully lifted one of the boxes and reverently handed it to Twilight. “Your wand,” he said simply, bowing his head slightly.

Twilight was bouncing in place again and almost snatched the box from the old wizard’s hands. She lifted the top off and stared at the beautifully polished wand inside. There was a glow surrounding it. “Oh!” she said excitedly.

“Yes, a perfect match,” murmured the wand-maker.

As she took the wand in her hand and lifted it, a veritable torrent of sparks flew from the end. The glow spread from the wand to Twilight until both were almost too bright to look at, then dimmed. She didn’t appear to notice, although Harry saw that the Headmaster certainly did, given how hard he was squinting through his glasses at her. No one else seemed to notice. That Harry could so easily he attributed to his new glasses — one of the rune settings was to “see magic.”

She gently swished her wand through the air, showering the room in sparks and leaving a glowing trail behind in the air. She reached across the counter and grabbed the old wand-maker in a hug, “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She released the surprised wizard and held up her wand, beaming at it. “This is going to be so much fun!” She started hopping again. Harry noticed that Mr. Weasley and Mr Granger watched her intently. Mrs. Granger elbowed Mr. Granger in the stomach, scowling at him, and then smirking at his uncomfortable expression at getting caught staring.

Ollivander smiled at her. “I am honoured that you approve,” he said softly, giving her a short bow.

“Now then,” he continued, “this one is yours.” He handed a box to Hermione. Hesitantly, she took the box and opened it. Her mouth formed a silent “oh!” as she beheld the gleaming wand. It wasn’t glowing as Twilight’s had been, but it seemed to leap into her hand as she reached for it. Instantly, sparks flew from the tip.

The wand-maker nodded happily, “Yes, another perfect match.”

The next three boxes went to the fillies, and each wand quivered in its box and blew prolific sparks across the room as soon as it was touched.

Harry’s wand, though, had two alicorn hairs, not just one wand core. When he lifted his wand out of the box, a torrent of both light and dark sparks flew across the shop. And he felt as if currents of both cool and warm water were running up his arm from the wand to his heart and head, making him sway dizzily.

The wand-maker turned to Ron. “Now, which is your wand arm?”

Startled out of enviously watching the others examining their wands, Ron said, “Huh? Wand?” He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. “I got a wand,” he said defensively. “Well, actually, it was Charlie’s wand before he graduated,” he said, his voice dropping off a bit as he finished. He frowned as he looked at the wand. “I think it belonged to one of my Uncles before that,” he finished dejectedly.

“Oh, no,” said Ollivander, “That’s a twelve-inch springy Ash wand with a unicorn tail hair! While close, that’s still not right for you at all. The wand chooses the wizard, after all,” he said reproachfully. “And it is in dreadful condition,” he noted disapprovingly, frowning.

“Well, our budget is a bit tight right now,” Mr. Weasley interrupted, “We’ll have to wait until later to get him a proper wand.”

The wand-maker studied the wizard closely before giving a slow nod. “As soon as practical, then,” he said, frowning.

Meanwhile, Rarity watched thoughtfully, then carded her left-hand fingers through her hair. She looked at her hand and smiled. She pulled a long hair from her left hand with her right and turned to the young wizard.

As Ron sighed and put his wand back in his pocket, she held out her hand to him, the long black hair dangling. “Here, Ronald Weasley,” she said, “See if Mr. Ollivander might be willing to trade you a wand for this.”

Ron looked at her as if she were mad, and hesitantly took the hair. He apparently didn’t notice the black hair rippling and turning a vivid purple. From the way his eyebrows suddenly rose, Harry knew the Headmaster had.

The other Weasleys were just as puzzled, but Harry saw the Headmaster watching the wand-maker intently as the old shopkeeper stood a bit straighter and his eyes seemed a bit brighter. Mr. Weasley, though, frowned as he tried to puzzle out what was actually happening.

“Freely given,” whispered Ollivander as he reverently reached across the counter and held his hand out to Ron. Ron still looked puzzled as he handed the hair to him. A crooked smile appeared on the wizard’s face as he held up the long shimmering purple hair, easily two-and-a-half feet in length. “Yes,” he said, studying the length of hair, “I believe we can call this a more than fair trade.” He inclined his head towards Rarity as she smiled demurely.

She looked at the other hair in her left hand, and then turned to Ginny. “Here, Ginevra Weasley, you may have this one.”

Ginny took it, eyes wide. She looked at her brother and the wand-maker, then pushed up to the counter holding her hand up high. “Me, too!” she said firmly.

He looked down at her. He took the hair and said, “You have full credit for a wand when you are old enough.”

Twilight interrupted. “While there are seasonal variations, the innate ability to use magic does not dramatically change because one day turns into another, no matter how significant that day may be.”

Everyone turned to listen.

“While the usual age for being allowed to use magic is considered eleven, here,” she continued in her lecturing voice, “there are many who are ready before then and many who are not. I think you should consider magical capability and resilience when granting a wand, and not a mostly arbitrary age.” She looked at the wand-maker, one eyebrow arched in challenge.

“That is true,” Ollivander said, nodding again. “However, the Ministry has decreed that no one under the age of eleven may use a wand.”

Twilight shrugged. “Then her parents may keep it for her birthday. And children are allowed to purchase and use wands after receiving their Hogwarts’ letter, as long as they are not seen by non-magicals. Even if their birthday is September First.”

Harry hid a grin. Twilight hadn’t been reading just the Wizarding World spell-books from all the books she had purchased. In fact, he was rather surprised to see her without dark bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. Spike must have been nagging her something fierce. Or she was using an illusion charm, again.

The two stared at each other until the Headmaster interrupted, “I think, in this situation, the Ministry might make an exception. She is, after all, behind protective enchantments at her home.” He paused a moment, then added, “If you think her magic is stable enough for a wand, that is.”

Twilight smirked. “Oh, it is,” she declared quietly.

The wand-maker nodded. “Let me put these away,” he said, lifting the two hairs slightly. Two measuring tapes leapt from behind his counter and started measuring the two Weasley children. He turned and headed for his backroom.

Mr. Weasley stared, surprised, at the interchange. He finally said, “We can’t take those wands! We don’t take charity!”

Rainbow Dash had caught on to what Rarity was doing. “You can’t say it’s charity when all Rarity did was give your children two of her hairs to trade for wands. After all, how much value is there in a discarded hair?”

“But . . . but . . . why would Mr. Ollivander take her hair in exchange for wands?” Mr. Weasley asked, bewildered.

Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Maybe he has a fetish for purple hair?”

More than one person choked or coughed at that suggestion. The Headmaster’s eyes’ twinkled madly as he obviously held back a laugh. Rarity merely raised her eyebrows and cast a disapproving eye on Dash.

“In any case,” Rainbow continued, “Giving your children a hair cost Rarity nothing. So how is that charity? If someone rich offered to share her umbrella with you in a rainstorm, would you accuse her of charity and walk away into the rain?”

At a loss as to how to continue to argue against the wands, Mr. Weasley gave up. He was sure, though, that somehow this was charity. He just couldn’t figure out how.

After a tense moment as Ginny and Ron alternately stared at their parent, Rarity, Dash, and the measuring tapes that were now measuring the size of their ears, the old wand-maker came back to the counter with an armload of boxes. “That’s enough,” he said, and the tapes fell to the floor.

It took only three tries before Ron was holding a fourteen-inch Willow wand with a unicorn tail hair as the core, which got him a lingering look from Ollivander.

Then the wizard turned to Ginny. Her second attempt was a thirteen-inch Yew wand with a pegasus feather core that sparked quite nicely as she waved it. “Yes,” he said, nodding, “a perfect match. Just remember, take care of your wand and it will take care of you.”

After settling up their bill, Sweetie Belle said, “Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander? Is there any way to carry a wand without having to carry it in your hand all the time? My dress doesn’t have any pockets.” The other girls all nodded or mumbled agreement.

The wand-maker stared at her with his watery eyes. “Yes, my dear,” he said. “I have wand holsters over here.” He walked to the far end of the counter pulled up a box. He pulled out a series of leather bracelets and laid them across the counter. None were any wider than the four fingers on Harry’s hand. “Just slide your wand into this slot,” he demonstrated with his wand. The wand, easily longer than the distance from his elbow to his fingers, slid into the small bracelet.

“They have comfort and sizing runes so you won’t even notice you’re wearing them, as well as anti-summoning runes to protect it and your wand. To retrieve the wand, simply position your hand to catch your wand and the wand will slip right into your palm.”

While the Equestrians all took a step back, the others all stepped over for a closer look. “Uh, do those come in akran, akromn . . . ,” Sweetie Belle started.

Rarity cleared her throat, “Ac-ro-man-tu-la silk,” she supplied.

“. . . yeah, that.”

Ollivander looked at the holsters and shrugged. “They can be, but it is a galleon more expensive, making them two galleons each. And I’ll have to order them.” He thought for a moment. “What colours would you like?”

That stumped them for a moment. “Can you spell them to be chameleon? That way they will always match their attire,” Rarity said.

“There are runes for that, I believe, that could be sewn into place for a sickle more.”

“Excellent,” Rarity said. “Let’s do that. We’ll need five.”

“We’d like one as well,” said Mr. Granger. Hermione beamed up at her father. Mrs. Granger gave her husband a long look. What they hadn’t spent on a wand they could easily spend on their daughter’s wand holster.

Harry looked over at Ron and Ginny who were examining the holsters wistfully. They knew they weren’t getting one.

He looked up at Rarity and cleared his throat. When she glanced at him, Harry held up two fingers and pointed at the two Weasley children. He mouthed “birthday.” A light smile crossed the Equestrian’s lips and she nodded approvingly. It was, after all, little Ginny’s birthday today. And they could easily justify the one for Ron by claiming it was merely a belated birthday present. Or Christmas present.

“It will take a few days for them to be made,” he said to Rarity, “I’ll owl you when they’re ready.”

“Excellent,” she said, and started pulling galleons out of their wallet. The old wizard gave her a puzzled look as she put down more than just what was required for five wand holsters. She leaned a bit closer over the counter and whispered something. He nodded and took her payment wordlessly.

۸- ̬ -۸

Back at the Weasley homestead, the children were too excited over finally getting their wands to think about flying. They were eager to try those spells they had heard about over the last few days of listening at lunch as Hermione had talked about what she had read.

The first spell was, naturally, lumos, followed by nox.

Harry rubbed his hand over his ear. “Ron, there’s no need to shout. Volume doesn’t affect the spell, only intent. If you want a bright light, push more magic into your wand.” He looked at the others, “Just whisper the spells from now on. That way we won’t distract each other. Or, better yet, just think them. And waving your wand around madly doesn’t make the spell better.” As a unicorn, he hadn’t had to move his head at all, except to aim certain spells. And he had never had to say the name of the spell.

“But,” Ron asked, “How do I push my magic?”

Harry and Sweetie Belle sighed.

Repeating what Twilight had told him, he said, “Your magic is like a big pool of water inside you. The bigger the pool, the more magic you can cast. The deeper the pool, the longer you can keep that spell going. And the more you use your magic, the bigger and deeper the pool becomes.”

Ron looked at him blankly. The others, even Sweetie Belle, were listening.

Harry sighed. “Okay. If you want to see the pool, you have to clear your mind of distractions, which isn’t easy!” He frowned in thought. “That is what I did when I first got to Ponyville and found out about magic.” He cleared his throat. “First, make sure you’re comfortably seated. Then close your eyes and try not to think.”

He sighed again. “And you’ll instantly think of something. What I did was picture a box with a lid that I stuffed that thought into and closed the box.”

He took a deep breath. “However, what I discovered was that you’ll have a lot of those thoughts, so you need to make a lot of boxes, and label them. But each time it will get easier, and it will be longer between those interruptions. Eventually, they’ll stop happening and you’ll be in this big quiet space. After a while, you’ll notice there’s something nearby, a big pool. That’s your magic.”

He paused a moment. “Then imagine a tiny stream coming from that pool to your arm and down to your wand. And that’s it.”

He looked at Ron. “Now, you’ll probably need a box labelled Chudley Cannons, inside a giant box labelled Quidditich!” The others laughed. “And inside that Chudley Cannons box will be a bunch of others about the different players and the team’s statistics.”

He looked at everyone. “It won’t happen fast, it took me several weeks, but boy, was it worth it! And it makes it soo much easier to remember things, too. Especially schoolwork.”

“Several weeks!” Ron looked very dismayed. The others didn’t look that happy at the thought of all that work, either.

Harry sighed and thought a moment. “Okay,” Harry said, “Let’s try this.” He wasn’t confident enough in his own abilities to try what Twilight usually did, but this was worth an attempt. He stepped up beside Ron and grabbed his wand hand in his. “See if you can feel this,” he said as he poured a bit of magic into his hand and pushed it into Ron’s hand and up into his wand. “Lumos,” he whispered, making it glow.

Ron jerked his hand away and the wand’s glow went out. “ ’Cor! That felt weird!”

Harry grabbed his hand again. “Okay, let’s do that again.” A moment later the wand was glowing. “Okay, now you do that.” Harry slowly decreased the magic he was pushing into Ron’s hand. The wand’s glow sputtered a few times, but eventually Harry let go of Ron’s hand and the wand stayed lit.

“Now, then,” Harry said, “While keeping the wand glowing, trace that weird feeling back to your magic pool.”

It was hilarious to watch Ron’s eyes go cross-eyed as he tried to do both at once. Naturally, the moment he took his attention off the wand, it went out. However, he was clearly making progress as his continued efforts showed. Soon, they were all trying to feel their way to their magic pools while Harry supervised. Which meant he got to eat most of Mrs. Weasley’s snack tarts while they were distracted.

As Harry expected, Sweetie Belle was the first to announce her success. “Oh, there it is!” Then, in a slightly disappointed tone, she continued, “Oh, I can’t really see it but I can tell something’s there.”

“Maybe you have to do that meditation stuff to actually see it.”

“Hmm,” she said distractedly, her wand’s glow slowly getting brighter and dimmer.

Once they all had lumos and nox under control, they moved on to colloportus and alohomora, locking and unlocking the back door. That was followed by silencio — which required a rescue from Mrs. Weasley and led them to finite incantatem. And a scolding for playing with magic without anyone older supervising them! Mrs. Weasley dragged Percy from his room and made him watch over them, after that. And Percy made them redo all the spells they had already done, so he could critique them. All of which pretty much took them the rest of the afternoon.

That evening was the first time that the Equestrians returned home as a group. Previously, the adults had been spending their days in Equestria and only returning to Little Whinging for the evenings, primarily just Applejack, Twilight, and Rarity. They were waiting for the go ahead from the solicitor about presenting Blueblood’s bona fides — and studying the materials Yueshi gave them regarding what he thought they needed to know about Britain, its government, and what they might expect from the government, the people, and the rest of the world.

At this point they owned almost all the land within a quarter-mile of the Magnolia Road Playpark, and the Guards had started building a more permanent station around the portal tree. It matched the one in Equestria, although on a much smaller scale. Having to use only pegasi and earth ponies for the building was slowing things down markedly — they didn’t want to chance the unicorns’ magic spells being detected by the wizards. However, being able to cast weight-reduction spells on the materials did compensate somewhat for that.

The previous evenings had been spent watching either the BBC or films, with a little bit of showing off what the boy and fillies had learned in magic that day at the Weasleys.

To keep Scootaloo from becoming too homesick, Twilight had managed to talk her Aunt Lofty into coming through the portal a few times to spend the night. Rarity and Applejack coming to stay over on a regular basis helped the other two girls to stay happy. The adults wanted to get the children used to being away from home before sending them away to Hogwarts.

This evening, though, they would be returning to Equestria.

۸- ̬ -۸

35 — Assumptions

In Little Whinging there was now a dirt pathway from the street to the portal. Except once you were several steps inside the forest, and hidden behind some strategically planted bushes, it became a raised wooden path with rails on the sides. Just inside the forest, again behind strategically grown bushes, was a guard on each side of the path keeping watch for intruders.

The portal tent had been rearranged. To the left of the portal was a curtained-off dressing area for the girls and women, with a matching arrangement for the boys and men on the right. It was easier to put on and remove human clothing while not a pony. A curtain in front of the portal was switched back and forth to provide the privacy a naked human wanted when passing through it, not that the ponies cared. They were just preparing for future visitors.

Harry went first, as the lone male, while the girls were getting undressed. After him came the adults and then the girls. As a result, he was the first to notice the change.

“Scootaloo,” he said happily when she came through the portal, “your wings!”

Startled, she turned to look and gasped, echoed by the rest. Her small wings were gone. Whatever Discord had done to her wings to make them bigger that day at the Weasleys home hadn’t gone away. Her wings now extended almost past her tail! “Oh. My. Celestia!” she cawed in delight. Seconds later she was soaring around the portal tree.

“Scootaloo,” called loudly Twilight, “you have to land!” She glanced at the guards around the portal who were tracking the filly carefully. Two pegasi with crossbows had already moved to pace her while unicorns on the ground tracked her. Others were just as closely watching the new arrivals, in case the flying filly was a diversion.

“Sorry, she’s just excited,” Twilight apologized.

A moment later, a purple glow surrounded the flying filly and dragged her down. Twilight held Scootaloo steady as she took a long slow walk around her, studying the filly’s new wings. Most pegasi primary wing tips, when the wings were properly folded, barely reached above their pony’s cutie mark. Scootaloo’s reached her tail, and the feathers completely covered where her cutie mark would be.

After casting a couple of spells, Twilight finally rendered her verdict. “The wings are permanent, as far as I can tell.”

Scootaloo would have been hopping in place if she could have moved in the purple alicorn’s hold.

“A bit larger than most pegasi your age, but I imagine you’ll grow into them.” She smirked and muttered, “And the pegasi stallions will love ’em.” She gave the filly a stern look. “No flying until we leave the Portal Exclusion Area.”

Scootaloo had her wings fully extended and was examining them minutely. “Dash is going to be soo surprised when I fly in!” she muttered to herself, clearly not listening to a word Twilight was saying beyond “permanent wings.” It was clear Discord was no longer someone she would fear.

Harry wondered what Discord would do when Scootaloo gave him a hug and profuse thanks the next time she saw him.

The area around the portal had changed considerably, Harry saw. The grounds around the portal tree looked like a long-established park. There were no signs of the military emplacements he knew existed. He couldn’t even spot them and he knew where they were. He expected illusions would have done that, except that a bush or rock surrounded by magic would be a dead giveaway to astute unicorns — they must be using only natural camouflage.

The poles he had wondered about previously were now holding up netting. When he looked for the magic, as Twilight had taught him, he could see that the netting was heavily reinforced. Nothing would be getting in or out via flying. At least, not without expending a great deal of effort and magic. Unless a dragon decided to dive through it. And even then . . . .

The Everfree walls were much bigger now, easily overtopping the trees both inside and outside the compound. The partition wall separating the portal tree from the path to Sweet Apple Acres was only half as high, but was also still under construction.

Scootaloo was so excited to try out her wings that she would have run all the way to the orchard if Twilight had let her. As it was, the little pegasus reminded him of the small dogs he had seen some people walking in Little Whinging, where the dog was straining to run, pulling against its leash and panting with the effort, while the owner was leaning back and holding the leash tightly. Only, in this case, the leash was magic. And the panting was excitement and impatience.

Once they were past the partition wall, he noticed that the secondary buildings on the plans were now under construction, with only one of the soldiers’ barracks nearing completion. The tunnels he had seen marked were completely hidden, with no sign of their presence.

The completed building across the path at the orchard was the “official” entrance to the portal area. They had to go through the tunnel in its middle and sign-out as portal travellers. As soon as they stepped outside, Scootaloo took off in a streak of orange and purple with her, “See-you-tomorrow-bye!” fading out in the distance. From the direction she took, Harry figured it would be an hour or so before she actually went home.

Harry and the other two fillies were looking forward to spending a night in their own beds. Harry wondered if there would be room for him in the castle, considering the large number of books Twilight had been buying over the last week, both normal and magical. He imagined Spike would have insisted on a path through the stacks to the kitchen, bathroom, and upstairs.

He was surprised to see that the castle looked almost exactly the same as it had the last time he was there. Seeing his surprise, Twilight smirked and said, “The library room is more than sufficient. The runes for that undetectable expansion charm are truly fantastic! I can’t believe no pony ever thought of doing that here.”

۸- ̬ -۸

Headmaster Dumbledore sat back in his office chair, steepled his fingers, and contemplated what he had learned so far about Harry Potter and his mysterious benefactors.

He had recalibrated the monitor on the boy’s happiness. Harry was obviously enjoying himself at the Weasleys’ home, as Arthur had told him from Molly’s observations. And yet the monitor hadn’t moved an iota from its neutral position.

Clearly, he had miscalibrated it all those years ago when Harry had been here being checked out by Madam Pomfrey. The sleeping spell they had cast on him must have interfered with his initial calculations. He had assumed the boy to be in a deep, dreamless sleep. If, instead, the spell had placed the boy in a lighter state, he might have been dreaming of something happy at the time. Which would have made Dumbledore’s baseline scan misread happiness as neutral.

On the other hand, that meant that all those years where he and Minerva had thought the boy to be merely accepting of his lot in life, Harry had really been having fun and enjoying his time with his relatives. He knew Minerva would be overjoyed at that discovery. It would go a long way towards allaying her guilt over leaving baby Harry with “those horrible muggles,” as she often termed them.

He didn’t want to admit that he, too, could rest a bit easier, now.

And while he would have preferred Harry to stay with the Dursleys; that they were on a vacation was something out of his control. In previous years, they had left him with Arabella — which had suited Dumbledore just fine. That this time they had relinquished Harry to these foreigners was unfortunate, but nothing that he could correct at this point. If he tried to remove Harry from them, his own spells might regard his actions as interfering with the Dursleys’ custody of the boy, and react in ways that were unpredictable.

Besides, it was only for a month and then the boy would be safe at Hogwarts. In the meantime, he had managed to secure a place for the boy with the Weasleys during the day. Harry would be safer there during the days if he couldn’t be with the Dursleys at number Four Privet Drive. The extra charms he had placed on the entire homestead would ensure that!

That Harry returned every night to Little Whining, but not to the Dursleys, was a bit aggravating. However, he had managed to place a charm, just this evening, around the house on Magnolia Road to directly warn him should any wizard or witch with harmful intent come within a hundred feet of it. That the foreigners, and the other people living on the street, hadn’t been home had made it that much easier for him to act without fear of being seen. An unusual bit of good luck, he thought.

Yes, Harry was as well-protected as the circumstances today would allow. Better, even, as no one knew where he was or where he had been. No one would suspect the boy of being in a muggle neighbourhood after seeing him in Diagnon Alley with the foreigners. Nor would anyone suspect he was at the Weasley household during the day.

The rumours he had planted regarding the boy’s circumstances had worked splendidly. The foreigners were certainly helping muddy the waters even more. He wouldn’t even need to place additional misdirection charms on the boy. Yes, James and Lily’s boy was as safe as the Headmaster could arrange. And much happier than he had expected, given the stormy relationship Lily had had with her sister. He was pleased to see that Petunia had managed to rise above her petty feelings and provide the proper care a child deserved.

And then there was his magical prowess! Wandless, silent spell-casting and apparition, indeed! He had never expected the boy to be that powerful — and with skills that most adults struggled to master. While his mother and father had been slightly above average in power, and their spell-casting skills definitely better than most wizards and witches, what he had seen the boy demonstrate was nothing less than astounding for a child his age. He would grow up to be a powerful wizard indeed. Not as powerful as Dumbledore, but still, a wizard to be reckoned with.

Not to mention that his girl friends nearly matched him!

And then there were adults.

Ollivander had called two of them gods.

Miss Sparkle and Miss Pie had almost blinded him when he had first looked at them through his glasses at the pub! Such power! He had never seen anyone, wizard or witch, that radiated as much magic as those two did. He had had to dim his glasses down to the point where ordinary wizards and witches no longer registered before he could see anything but blinding white in their direction. On that point, alone, many wizards and witches would have been awed. He certainly understood Ollivander’s reaction.

And their control of their magic was just as amazing. Watching as Miss Sparkle had manipulated her quill while making delicate calculations as she modified an apparition spell on the fly had been . . . well . . . spell binding! It was such a casual display of magical expertise and skill that he didn’t think for a moment that she was trying to show off. It was simply the way she did things. And the spell itself was an eye-opener.

Her claim that “even a child could do it” might be hyperbole, despite Miss Granger’s rapid learning of it — the girl was clearly a prodigy, soaking up knowledge like a sponge did water. Teleportation’s complex safety runes countered apparition’s difficult casting requirements. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, as his mother used to say. On the other hand, those wizards and witches that had difficulty with apparating might find this teleportation easier to master. If they had the power.

If the Princess wasn’t some kind of prodigy in her own right, if that talent and skill, never mind the sheer power, were considered normal, or even only slightly above average, then the wizarding world was in for a shock! He would have to keep an extremely close watch on the girls to see if they all showed such promise.

Miss Pie had been the real enigma. He hadn’t seen her cast a single spell, yet she had managed to bake a cake in an impossibly short amount of time without anyone noticing. And he hadn’t seen any tell-tale signs of a time-turner in use.

That even Miss Rarity had said that Miss Pie did things that mystified her had been intriguing. Plus, watching her move around in the garden had been as enlightening as it had been frustrating. She hadn’t apparated, or teleported, even once, yet she had seemed to move from one side of the garden to the other without him seeing her traverse the distance between them.

And neither Miss Sparkle, nor Miss Pie had once picked up a wand to do magic.

Could they be gods? Or were they simply extremely powerful witches? He tended to think it was more of the latter. If they truly were gods, then Merlin save the wizarding world, because no one else could hope to come close.

Or were they Veela? He hadn’t sensed a Veela Aura around them, which wasn’t unexpected for an adult. The girls were too young to manifest, just yet, so they couldn’t be a clue. If the foreigners were Veela, then they were extremely powerful ones, much more powerful than any he had read about or encountered. Unless the rumour was true that Circe of Homeric legend was the head of the Veela tribe. She might have had the power. But that failed to explain this Discord wizard. And the Veela of today did not divide themselves into Unicorn and Pegasi tribes. So, probably not Veela. He would keep a close eye on the girls to see if a Veela Aura manifested around them in the next few years.

He had watched Miss Jack in the orchard for a brief time. And, again without the help of a wand, she had been doing things to the trees that he had only ever read about a Druid being able to do. Yet she didn’t appear to be of an age to have achieved such mastery as he had witnessed. Were they truly much older than their outward appearances? Their apparent clumsiness when walking and using their hands seemed to support that assumption.

Miss Shy and Miss Dash he hadn’t had much opportunity to study as they hadn’t remained near the garden for very long.

From what he had seen in the wand-maker’s shop, they used illusions to conceal certain facts about themselves. Such as their hair. While Miss Dash and Miss Pie had gone around unabashedly with their brilliant hair colours, the others all had plain black hair. He hadn’t suspected that they were using illusions on their hair until Miss Rarity had handed two of her hairs to the Weasley boy and girl. Seeing the illusion drop had been startling. As had been seeing the old wand-maker’s reaction. Dumbledore had never seen Ollivander awed before.

In the pub, he had dulled down his glasses’ perception to screen out the blinding light from Miss Pie and Miss Sparkle. He hadn’t realized that that had rendered him relatively blind to other magics being in use.

With that discovery, he had carefully moved around until he had been able to examine the other foreigners without being overwhelmed by Miss Sparkle or Miss Pie. The adults all exuded magic that easily outclassed most wizards. The girls and Harry also glowed with magic above that of their peers — although for them it was more diffuse and wild, not yet under their control. Something he would expect of children, but that still promised they would be witches to watch when they were older.

And there hadn’t been a single sign of Dark magic around any of them — not even Harry. Or maybe Dumbledore’s dialled-down magical detection charm on his glasses hadn’t picked up the innate Dark magic in Harry’s scar.

The foreigners’ naivety had been rather endearing, actually. Not that they weren’t smart. The grilling Miss Rarity had given them had been quite thorough. And her responses were as telling, to him.

From their reactions, he thought their magical repertoire was rather limited. But having no conflicts for a thousand years did remove the impetus for inventing new spells, he had to admit. And the lack of muggles actively hunting them because of their magic removed the incentive for deception, misdirection, and, he grudgingly had to admit, the petty prank spells, as well.

He had no doubt that once they assimilated the huge variety of spells the wizards and witches had that these foreigners would be a force to be reckoned with, if push came to shove. Especially if the average one of them was anywhere near as powerful as even the children in this group.

Letting those girls into Hogwarts might not be such a good idea. But if they weren’t there, then neither would be Harry. Of the two, he would take Harry being at Hogwarts, and worry about the repercussions of these foreigners later.

And then there was Harry’s wand!

There was only one wand he knew that possessed as much power — the Elder Wand, made from an Elder tree with a Thestral hair as its core. Watching this . . . dual-alicorn wand . . . react to the boy as he picked it up had been quite informative. And disturbing. The blast of both Light and Dark magic from the wand at Harry’s touch had been unsettling. He would have to keep a close eye on the boy’s development. He shuddered to think of that wand in the hands of someone with Dark leanings. He would need to guide the boy as subtly as possible to the side of Light.

His girl friends and their guardians were unknowns. They seemed to be steeply banked in the Light, but he had no references for their backgrounds and their leanings. The Dark sparks coming from the wand in addition to the Light, though, indicated that maybe these foreigners were not as Light as he might hope, given that the core materials came from two powerful alicorns.

He would have to plant the seeds to get Arthur’s little girl and youngest son close to them, maybe even push a bit. Coming from as Light a family as they did, they might be able to influence the girls away from the Dark.

Could he somehow convince her parents to let her attend Hogwarts this year instead of waiting for next? Her getting her wand early was certainly a fortuitous circumstance, he could say that if Ollivander and this prodigy of magic foreigner, Miss Sparkle, said her magic was ready, then why hold the poor dear back?

And once she was at Hogwarts, her presence in the same dorm-room and classes as the foreign girls would give him a way to monitor and guide them to the Light.

That the girl adored the image of the “Boy Who Lived” was no secret to him. Arthur had more than once shared the girl’s obsession with the Headmaster, sometimes with trepidation, sometimes with pride. It depended on how Molly was reacting at the time. Molly had the idea that her daughter was the perfect future wife for the boy.

Dumbledore shook his head, ruefully. He wasn’t as sure of that potential relationship as the witch was. Sometimes Molly could be quite overbearing. Hence Arthur’s trepidation regarding her plans. He would have to keep a close eye on the situation, lest the girl, Ginny, inadvertently push Harry and the girls away with her attempts to gain Harry as “her” boyfriend.

Which left the whole problem of exactly where these foreigners came from.

And it was the princesses and this Discord in that homeland that he needed to understand the most.

All he knew of the princesses was that they were co-rulers. And that Ollivander considered one of them to be the Goddess of the Sun and the other to be the Goddess of the Moon. If they were that much more powerful than the ones here, he might consider the appellation appropriate — in the ancient Greek and Roman sense, at least.

The timescales Rarity and this Discord had mentioned were worrisome. Both the Princesses and this Discord appeared to be extremely long-lived, if not immortal. And magic forbade immortality without enacting heavy penalties on the wizard or witch attempting it — as Voldemort could attest.

On the other hand, that these princesses were able to get alicorns, winged unicorns of great magic, to willingly give them hairs from their manes implied that the Princesses had to be of the Light, as no unicorn would willingly give of itself to a Dark Wizard or Witch.

However, the ancient Assyrians ascribed winged unicorns and winged bulls as great evils, although they sometimes referred to the winged unicorns as Light and sought their blessings. The Eastern societies had simply lumped both unicorns and winged unicorns into the same category, they could be either Light or Dark.

Of course, having a core from a creature of the Light did not limit a wand to the world of the Light. Voldemort’s wand contained a feather from Fawkes, his Phoenix, an extremely Light creature. That did not prevent the wizard from doing great evil. Therefore, having hairs, feathers, or heartstrings from extremely Dark creatures would not predispose the wand user from being Light.

But it was worrying, nonetheless, that the wand had produced both Light and Dark sparks, showing that it was apparently neutral with respect to the wizard wielding it. He would have to consider carefully the implications of that. And watch Harry closely.

That the foreigners referred to Discord as the God of Chaos was worrisome.

The stories the Weasley children had relayed to their parents from Harry and the girls about the creature’s escapades were frightening in their implications — cotton-candy (which he thought must be candy floss) clouds, raining chocolate milk, and reversing gravity over huge areas, all indicated great, great power. Many of the things that wizard had done in the Weasley garden could be illusions, but the transformations were not. Even if Albus discounted the magnitude of the stories, he still had to contend with the fact that Discord had managed to transform thirteen wizards and witches into brand new forms for almost six hours, without any evidence of strain. And he had set such specific conditions on the spells’ dismissal! Dumbledore had to admit to himself that he couldn’t have managed such precision, nor power it without collapsing in exhaustion afterwards.

Yes, he could transform dozens or even hundreds of things during a duel, but those were transient charms, rarely lasting more than a dozen seconds, very few survived a whole minute. He hadn't needed to put a great deal of power in them to make them last hours.

That Harry and the girls considered Discord to be a prankster and not a monster was of little solace. That Rarity had expressed reservations on his character merely increased the Headmaster’s misgiving. He would have to tread very carefully if he ever met that wizard. And warn the Weasleys as well.

Which left the question of where these foreigners called home. He had a few clues. Ponyville was the home for the foreigners he had met. The Princesses lived somewhere called Canterlot. Another place was called Appleloosa. And still another, the Crystal Empire. All were locations where the witches had relatives, and there had been the mention of a wizard, a brother to Miss Sparkle. And a married couple, her parents. And the distances were large enough that travel via a floo-network was considered a time-saver, instead of relying on their teleportation. That implied that not all of their people could use the teleportation spell, just as many wizards and witches were not proficient with the apparition spell.

So far, they had mentioned both a pegasus and unicorn tribe, specifically, implying that there might be divisions in their population along those lines. Twilight had mentioned a medical condition afflicting only those in the unicorn tribe, so maybe the power-magic users belonged mostly in that tribe, with the others being more limited in their scope — which still looked to be greater than the average wizard! He would have to watch the girls closely in Hogwarts to see if he could discern any differences in their abilities. Maybe he could get Arthur to talk a bit more with his sons about any mentions of other tribes in their homeland?

There also appeared to be creatures there that were not here, such as a hydra. There hadn’t been a hydra seen since the Roman Empire fell. And a large forest, the Everfree, they had called it, which apparently had many dangerous creatures in it, almost like the Forbidden Forest beside Hogwarts, but much larger.

And if he was right in that the witches out-numbered the wizards by a significant margin, then it was entirely possible that wizarding England might see a sudden influx of powerful witches looking for husbands. The pure-bloods might complain at losing status as small Houses suddenly accumulated much wealth, but the gains in magical prowess as the new witches were courted and married into the families would silence the dissenters quickly enough.

That they also had a large and vibrant economy was self-evident, as the way they were spending galleons was breath-taking. Not to mention that the goblins had revealed that both the adults and the children had on deposit a considerable amount galleons, enough to raise them into the top-ten of depositors at the bank. All that, without straining their economy in the slightest, from what he could gather. It took a large number of people to drive an economy big enough to supply that many galleons to children, and think nothing of it.

If he had to guess, which he had to, he’d say their population was at least as large as England’s, probably much bigger considering the financial resources thrown into supporting just four children in a foreign-to-them land. Opening up trading with them would be a big boost to the wizarding economy, especially if they could leverage their knowledge and products into the new markets before the foreigners could figure it out for themselves.

And that economy, in turn, meant the foreigners’ homeland had to be at least as large as England — without muggles in residence, they could use all the land instead of hiding in out-of-the-way places like the English wizards did. Which led him to inspect his globe of the world. Where could you hide an entire island where no one was likely to trip across it? But it had to be close enough for a child such as Harry to access it.

Perhaps a portkey? But the Ministry had portkey spells in place to prevent criminals and smugglers from either escaping or infiltrating the country. As did most of the wizarding countries.

He stared at his spinning globe.

Maybe he was looking at this from the wrong angle. Maybe he should consider the Potters and their place in the puzzle.

Perhaps Petunia had kept some of Lily’s things?

Everything in 1981 had been in turmoil due to the war. It wouldn’t have been out of character for Lily to plan for a worst-case situation and hide a trunk at her sister’s home. Her use of the ancient magics to protect Harry certainly showed how inventive and prepared she could be. A trunk with certain items in it if the Potters had had to flee a Voldemort Ministry was not out of the question.

And if Harry had been exploring the attic one day and come across the trunk, opened it, and discovered a communications crystal? The ancient Greeks had used such crystals, on occasion. And he knew that Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James had made a set of mirrors based on those crystals. Most wizards and witches had never heard of them. Which begged the question of how the quartet had so easily created a set. Perhaps the Potters had had a similar device squirreled away? One that James could use as a model, even if he didn’t know the location of its intended twin?

That implied that the Potters had known of these foreigners. And trafficked with them occasionally. What if it was a secret that Lily and James discovered only after they had gone through his father’s things while preparing for the worst — but they hadn’t had the time to use it. Or maybe the other end had been neglected, as well, and it was chance that had led Harry to finding the crystal while its opposite was being watched or examined?

And then Twilight and her friends — perhaps one or more of them was related to the Potters? — had checked up on Harry and decided to befriend him? It wasn’t out of the question for a distant relative to want to reconnect to another branch of the family. And then decided to teach him the magic that they knew. Perhaps even want to introduce a few friends’ daughters to him in the hopes of getting him as a husband for one of them?

Then there was the history he had learned of them. The kingdom was two thousand years old, or two thousand five hundred if you included when Discord was in charge. Which placed them at about the ancient Greek times. And they seemed quite acclimated to the culture they found themselves in here in England. Unlike someone from the Orient, for example. And that implied they had had regular contact with this part of the world.

Could they be from the fabled island of Atlantis? That would fit with the evidence he had seen so far, and fit just as well in the history he had been given.

After considering it for a while longer, he decided that, for the moment, he would assume they were from Atlantis. And wait to see what happened next.

Which, considering that the foreigners had only been in the wizarding world for a week, was probably quite a lot.

۸- ̰ -۸

36 — Déjà vu Crew

Author's Note

Passed Magic School Days in up-votes! Here's a chapter to celebrate!
A friendly competition. Now to work on number of viewers!

36 — Déjà vu Crew

Harry was about to take the trunk elevator back to the Weasley sitting room when he heard a familiar voice above. It was a Friday, not long after they got their wands, and just after lunch. He had been using the trunk bathroom because the bathroom at the Weasleys’ had been occupied.

“Arthur? Arthur? Are you home?”

It was the Headmaster. He was using the floo to call Mr. Weasley, which surprised Harry. He thought the Headmaster would just come and go whenever he felt like it.

“Headmaster?” he heard Mr. Weasley answer. “Is something wrong?” His voice was coming closer. He must have still been in the kitchen. “I thought we were going to meet at the Ministry. I was just getting ready to go there.”

“No, no, nothing is wrong. May I come through?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

A moment later, he heard the steps as the older wizard walked into the sitting room.

“Ah, much better,” he said. Harry could imagine him wanding away the soot he had picked up.

“Please, make yourself at home, Headmaster. So, sir, what brings you to The Burrow?” There was the sound of couch and chair springs being compressed. “Would you like some tea?”

“No, no thanks.” There was a brief pause, then the Headmaster said, “It occurred to me that people might begin to talk if they noticed us meeting frequently. Perhaps even think we were plotting something nefarious regarding these newcomers.” He sighed. “I do want to keep up with how our visitors are acclimating to our world, but I want to respect their wishes to keep their presence and origins relatively secret.”

Harry felt his eyebrows arch. Oh really, he couldn’t help but think sarcastically.

The Headmaster chuckled. “It will be so much easier once the children are at Hogwarts. And it is a relief that The Daily Prophet hasn’t launched a full-scale publicity campaign around Harry Potter returning to the wizarding world. I believe one of my protective charms I placed on the boy is responsible for that.”

Harry was surprised the wizard was willing to cooperate. In his experience, adult humans did what they wanted, regardless of what they might promise others. He frowned. And what did the Headmaster mean by “protective charms?” Had he done something to Harry when no one was watching him? He would have to tell Twi about this!

“Already, there are rumours of four new students from four powerful, rich, foreign families attending Hogwarts this year. All in the company of one Harry Potter.” Harry could hear the smile in his voice as he added, “Miss Granger, it seems, has been assumed to be one of them because she has accompanied them everywhere they went in the Alley.” There was a pause. “Their purchases of so many items in large quantities — books, trunks, brooms, acromantula silk, furniture — and all only of the finest quality — has the entire Alley in a tizzy, especially with the mention of foreign Princesses. And the Goblins have been remarkably closed-mouthed about them as well, much more so than normal. Just mentioning their names will get you escorted out of the bank, as I discovered.” There was a moment of silence. Harry imagined that the Headmaster was shaking his head wryly, putting on a good performance for his audience.

“The Goblins will only admit that the ladies have done business in their bank, and opened accounts. Using the terms of the last Goblin Treaty, Dirk Cresswell was able to get them to give him a list of the current top ten depositors. Regretfully, they would not disclose the amounts on deposit. Princess Sparkle and the girls are listed there — separately in two accounts.” He was quiet for a moment. “They are by no means poor.” He chuckled again. “I don’t suppose it’s a surprise that there’s now a rumour that they are from Atlantis — being completely unknown and with that much gold at their disposal.”

“Oh, dear . . . Do you think it’s possible?”

Harry rolled his eyes, thinking, seriously?

The Headmaster sighed. “It is possible, I suppose.”

Harry felt his jaw drop.

“The history that Molly relayed to us of their homeland certainly seems to indicate so — six thousand years, indeed. The most ancient texts we have suggest that Atlantis was the cradle of wizarding civilization centuries before the muggles discovered bronze.” His tone seemed to indicate he might believe it himself. “We know the old Greek and Roman gods, three thousand years ago, were wizards and witches of some power, most would probably rival Merlin. That they seem to have disappeared without a trace a bit over two and a half thousand years ago has puzzled historians for millennia. Perhaps they were outcasts and returned home when the sister Princesses started ruling? They had, after all, no reason to abandon their situation so abruptly. We lack the information to arrive at a definitive answer.”

There was a brief pause.

“I briefly considered if they might be Veela, considering we have only seen one wizard, but they lack the aura one would expect to see. And they haven’t tried to use the aura to influence anyone. And their demeanour is unlike the Veela I have met.

“However, that the ones here today are extraordinarily powerful is without question, as this Discord so ably demonstrated. We must tread carefully. Should you ever meet him, extend him every courtesy and be very careful of what you say. He is extremely powerful, and, from what the children told us, somewhat capricious in his actions.”

There was a moment’s quiet, then he hummed softly to himself, and changed the subject. “I find it interesting that of the ten we have met, nine are witches.” He cleared his throat. “Minerva told me she met a wizard by the name of Blue Blood when she went to deliver the foreign girls’ Hogwarts’ letters,” he added.

“Eleven witches,” interrupted Mr. Weasley, “Remember, I met Miss Aloo’s two aunts, Lofty and Holiday when we went to the Quidditch match. They must be quite old, which is odd considering they look so young,” he said. “They were very unsteady on their feet and the girls had to constantly help them when walking — especially up and down the stadium stairs.”

“Ah. Yes. You did mention going to a Quidditch match last week,” said the older wizard. He paused a moment before continuing. “And Harry seems to have no wizard friends, just those three girls. They seem quite protective of him, from what I’ve heard and seen. And none of them have mentioned wizards in their homeland.”

Speaking slowly, Mr. Weasley said, “Do you think they might be looking to see if any of the English wizards would make suitable husbands?”

“If they are, they will have their pick of candidates. None of the old families would be averse to marrying their sons off to a pureblood with a pedigree going back several thousand years — and all capable of wandless magic, too! In fact, I don’t doubt they will be fighting each other for the privilege.”

Harry heard the Headmaster shift in his chair. “But I do wonder how Harry met them.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Well, the Potters always were a private family.” mused Mr. Weasley, “The muggle-borns they married in the past were always powerful witches and nothing is really known of them prior to their marrying into the Potters. Perhaps they weren’t really muggle-born but were one of these Atlanteans? And the Potters do have a history of ‘losing’ sons in strange circumstances to adventuring. Perhaps they went to Atlantis and those were just cover stories?”

“Possibly. Possibly,” murmured the older wizard. “Yes, that would explain them seeking the boy out. They were quite distressed with his mother’s sister, as a matter of fact, suggesting the husband, wife, and son should be in a dungeon. I know they were exaggerating Harry’s circumstances, though.”

Harry bristled at the dismissal of his . . . torture . . . at the hands of the Dursleys. He did smile at the thought of them residing in one of the Queen’s prisons, though. Just the thought of them stuck in there made him feel better. Too bad he didn’t know enough magic, yet, to pay them a visit. He was sure there had to be a few spells he could cast that would make their stay more . . . memorable.

“But such familiarity implies they have been in England for some time. And that they knew so little of the wizarding world is troubling. Unless they were verifying what they thought they knew by pretending ignorance.” He sighed. “I can understand that strategy. I would probably do the same, in their shoes.”

There was a long silence as Harry fidgeted. He couldn’t get out now without revealing he had been eavesdropping on them. He wished they would hurry up and go. Thinking about the Dursley’s brought up feelings that always disturbed him. Lately, his reactions to those feeling had been a bit more . . . emphatic. In fact, before coming here he hadn’t thought of them in many months.

“What have you told people when they’ve asked about these newcomers?”

“Only that I can confirm that Harry Potter is going to Hogwarts this year, and that we do have several foreign students attending as well.” Dumbledore paused, then continued, “That is another reason to keep our meetings out of the public view. I don’t want your family to come under scrutiny. Molly wouldn’t like the reporters sneaking around your home and making her guests uncomfortable.”

“Oh! Yes. She certainly wouldn’t,” Mr. Weasley said thoughtfully.

“If you do go out with them in public from now on, I suggest you use a weak notice-me-not spell to distract attention. And I have already strengthened your protection charms on the property, as you know.”

“Yes, yes. Excellent. Thank you, again, Headmaster.”

“Now, then,” Dumbledore paused.

Harry could hear the chair springs creak as he shifted in his chair.

“How have the children adapted to their new wands?”

“Like ducks to water,” Mr. Weasley said jovially. “They’ve worked their way most of the way through the First Year spell-book.”

“Impressive,” the Headmaster said.

“It’s astonishing, really,” he continued, “Sweetie and Harry pick things up almost instinctively, from what I’ve been told, then Hermione is almost always next. The rest follow them.

“Percy and the twins take turns teaching them in-between Quidditch games.” He grinned, “Molly tells me that if it weren’t for Hermione insisting, they’d spend all their time playing Quidditch.” He laughed. “That Scoot just can’t get enough of that game.

“Oh! Speaking of flying,” he suddenly sharpened his tone, “You remember I told you about that Discord bloke? And how he made them all pegasi?”

“Hmm, yes,” the Headmaster said thoughtfully. “A very powerful wizard, indeed. Transfiguration on that scale and for that length of time is quite taxing.”

“Well, earlier today, not long after they floo’d in, Miss Aloo changed herself back into a pegasi! And then, Miss Belle and Harry turned themselves into unicorns! Not pegasi, but unicorns!”

“They did!?” came the Headmaster’s surprised response.

“Oh, yes! You have to see them,” Mr. Weasley said, quite excited, “They are the cutest little things you’ve ever seen!”

There came creaking sounds from the couch and chair as the two stood up.

“Unicorns, you say,” the Headmaster said thoughtfully, his voice fading as he followed the Weasley patriarch into the kitchen.

He heard Mrs. Weasley as she said, “Why, hello Headmaster! I didn’t realize you had come through.”

He didn’t wait for the elevator, he teleported into the back-garden, by the broom-shed where the adults wouldn’t see him. He galloped over to back-garden table where Scootaloo was coaching Ginny, arriving only seconds before the adults exited the kitchen door. He didn’t want them to think, even for a moment, that he had heard them. Twilight would be amazed when he told her what he had heard, he knew. Atlantis! Sheesh.

“Close your eyes, and remember what it felt like to have wings,” Scootaloo half-whispered into the girl’s ear as she hovered beside her. “The pull on your shoulders as the wind rushes through your feathers, your hooves stretched out in front, your tail flying in the breeze as you banked into that turn on the Quidditch field . . . the earthy feel as your hooves hit the ground when you landed and your wings folded up . . . your ears swivelling as your brothers yelled.”

Ginny was nodding her head, a half-smile on her lips.

“Feel that Pegasus magic and pull on it!”

Mrs. Weasley gasped as her daughter suddenly shrank and dropped to all fours. A moment later a filly with a gold splotched dark-green coat and Weasley-red mane and tail floated up beside Scootaloo. “I DID it! I DID it!” she began to sing as she flew circles around the table. “I DID it! I DID it!”

Scootaloo sported a giant, and proud, grin.

The twins were crouched down beside Sweetie Belle, who shook her head. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be pegasi, guys. I seem to remember you had horns before Dis . . .”

“Sweetie!” hissed Apple Bloom, standing by Ron.

“. . . before he turned us all into pegasi,” Sweetie concluded. “You’ll need to use Harry as an example.” She turned to Ron, “And you’re an earth pony, I think.” Ron did not look pleased at that declaration.

“Mum! Dad! LOOK! LOOK! I DID IT!” Ginny shouted excitedly as she flew over to her parents, hovered, then changed back to little girl. And fell, as she was at their head-height when she changed. She barely noticed as she stood and dusted her butt with her hands. “I can change into a Pegasus!” Which she did again, and breathlessly flew back to Scootaloo, who still was grinning just as excitedly. The two flew loops around each other before Scootaloo tapped Ginny with her hoof and hollered, “TAG, YOU’RE IT!” and took off for the orchard. Ron watched enviously as the two pegasi disappeared into the trees.

“Oh, my,” the Headmaster said quietly. “An animagus before she even arrives at Hogwarts! And mere days after getting her wand.” He turned a contemplative eye towards the Weasleys, who were still staring after their little girl.

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “you should consider letting her go to Hogwarts this year. I’m sure an accommodation can be made considering her . . . talent.” He looked off into the orchard where the two fillies could be heard shouting at each other. “And she gets along so well with our guests,” he added softly.

The two adult Weasleys turned their astonished attention to him.

Meanwhile, one twin said to the white unicorn standing beside them, “And you . . .”

“. . . can’t help us?” finished the other.

Sweetie Belle smirked at them, “Not unless you can turn into girls.” She trotted over to Hermione.

The twins turned determined expressions on Harry and headed his way.

Harry looked behind himself before realizing that running would just postpone their attention for only a short time. He sighed. He would get back at Sweetie for abandoning him to them.

The twins had spent hours as pegasi and only minutes as unicorns. He couldn’t do as Scoots had done with Ginny because they hadn’t actually used their horns before Discord changed them.

They did, however, have wands with which they were very proficient. He frowned. Did it matter if they held the wands in their hands or not? After all, the only difference between his human and unicorn forms was that in one he had a magic wielding horn on his head and in the other he held a magic wielding wand in his hand.

He was finding it more than a little difficult to concentrate. The twins had picked him up and put him on the table and were staring at him quite intensely. He almost galloped away when one of them started to lift his tail. “HEY!” he shouted, lunging forward.

Unfortunately, the other twin grabbed him in mid-leap.

“Sorry,” said the first twin, clearly not meaning it. They both started petting him. Which felt oddly soothing. And irritated him greatly. He sat down and glared back at them.

“Come on Harry . . .”

“. . . help us out here.”

He sighed again. “This won’t be easy, like with Ginny. Sweetie is right, you’re unicorns, but you weren’t unicorns very long before he changed you to pegasi.”

“Yeah . . . .” they both grinned happily, remembering. Then they frowned and returned to studying his form.

Harry shook his head. He hadn’t believed Ginny would be able to transform herself into a Pegasus, and yet he had seen her do it just now. The two of them, Scootaloo and Ginny, had been trying for hours after Scootaloo had done it this morning, herself.

Harry had suspected that Scoots might be able to do it when she had suggested trying it when they woke up this morning in Little Whinging. After all, wizards and witches could turn into those animagi, so maybe Scoots could change form too, simply because her native form was a pegasus. It made sense, after all. She didn’t have to spend months and months meditating to discover her “inner” animal. Nor spend additional months studying its physical body so she could perform the transformation without forgetting some vital organ, as the book on the subject had warned.

However, Ginny doing so as well was an entirely different situation. Her native form was a human. Discord had been responsible for changing her into a pegasus, not some innate power inside herself. Unless he had substituted the pegasus form for whatever animal she normally would have been able to transform into as an animagus? That sounded like something sneaky he would do. Simply change the form accessed by her innate ability into that of an Equestrian pegasus, borrowing the template from Scootaloo. Much easier, he suspected, than simply forcing them to transform.

If he had done that, then all she needed was to find the trigger, and Bob’s your uncle! And by forcing the transformation that day, Discord had already shown her magic how to trigger the animagus change. All she had needed to do was remember that trigger.

But how could he use that to help the twins and Ron? He would have suggested remembering the feel of their magic through the horn, but they had never done that. All they had were wands. And if he told them to remember being ponies, all they would remember would be the wings and how it felt to fly!

But then, wands were just the wizards’ way of making horns for themselves, weren’t they? But they held it in their hands, not on their heads. He shook his head again. Was he overthinking things, again?

“Give me your wand, George,” he said. It didn’t matter which of them responded, as long as he handed over his wand.

Puzzled, George held it out to Harry. “Here you go, my good pony!”

Harry grabbed it in his magic and used a sticking charm to put it on George’s head right where a horn should be if he had one. He took a breath. “Okay. Now cast a spell.”

‘George’ was looking cross-eyed up at the wand on his forehead. “Uh, periculum.”

A red spark sputtered from his wand.

Harry said, “There! Can you feel your magic going up into your forehead?”

‘George’ shook his head.

“Keep practicing until you can. Then remember what it felt like as a pony, not flying though. When you were just standing with all four hooves on the ground. Use me as a model, if you have to. Once you’ve got that, just pull on the unicorn magic just like Ginny pulled on her pegasus magic.”

The twins stared at him, then Fred held out his wand. “My turn.”

The adults were looking at the twins as if they were barking mad with their wands stuck to their foreheads and squirting red and green sparks into the air. Ron’s guffaws at their expressions as they tried to “feel” their magic didn’t help. A quick stinging hex from one of the twins put a stop to that, however.

Sweetie Belle was face-hoofing.

At least the twins could cast directional spells, albeit weak ones right now.

Apple Bloom dragged Ron over towards the orchard and set about seeing what she could do to help him “get in touch” with his “inner pony.”

Given that Ginny had tried for hours before succeeding, Harry didn’t expect any results from Hermione, Ron, or the twins until much later in the day, if at all. And he was right. By dinner time, when they left, the twins still had their wands stuck to their foreheads and Ron was scowling darkly enough that Harry was surprised he didn’t create a spontaneous thunderstorm in the kitchen. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t a pegasus.

۸- ̰ -۸

The next morning they found the rest of the Quidditch team waiting for them in the Weasley back-garden. Oliver and the girls were watching Ginny fly around with expressions of envy and awe. Apple Bloom, again, had dragged Ron over to the nearest tree in the orchard and was talking to him. Ron still had a sour expression, though.

Sweetie Belle and Harry suffered through the attentions of the three girls hugging and petting them for several minutes before escaping as Scootaloo distracted the girls by explaining what she had told Ginny. Having the red-head on the spot to tell them exactly what it felt like the first time she transformed would probably be a huge help.

Surprisingly, though, it was Ron who actually made the first transformation of the morning — into an earth pony with an orange coat and Weasley-red mane and tail. Apple Bloom had made him take his shoes off and then stand beside the apple tree with his hands on the trunk and feet in the dirt while she coached him through it. He had surprised his mother by galloping inside and jumping into her arms.

It was late-morning when Alicia finally made the transformation. Spurred by her success, first Oliver, and then Angelina, mastered the transformation. The quidditch players, as well as Ginny and Scootaloo, took off for the family practice field almost immediately afterwards.

Harry tried to help the twins. They had, apparently, slept with their wands stuck to their foreheads. Not that that had helped, Harry was sure. Unfortunately, the twins spent nearly as much time trying to hex each other with their wands on their foreheads as they did trying to transform.

Meanwhile, Apple Bloom was showing Ron proper bucking technique. Of course, to do that she had to quicken a few trees into having an early harvest. “Thay won’t be as tasty as when we let them grow naturally, but Ah think it’s worth it,” she had explained. “But afore you can buck a tree, ya gotta find the tree’s sweet spot,” she said, walking around the first tree and examining it carefully. “Thar,” she said pointing. “Do ya see that spot?”

Ron squinted and shook his head. Apple Bloom made him walk around the tree several times until he finally gave a hesitant nod.

Harry thought Mrs. Weasley’s expression was hilarious when she saw Apple Bloom buck nearly three bushels of apples into three baskets under the tree with nary a single miss. Watching her jaw drop even farther when her son, after several attempts, did the same thing a few minutes later to a different tree had him rolling on the ground, laughing.

Harry and Sweetie Belle gathered the six baskets and brought them back to the table for everyone to sample at lunch, although Ron managed to down quite a few apples when his mother wasn’t looking.

He seemed quite happy with himself. After all, as he said later, flying was nice, and being able to cast spells as a pony might be fun, but his animagus could actually do something useful!

Shortly before lunch, Hermione successfully made the transition into a unicorn with a black coat and bushy-brown mane and flowing brown tail. Then the three unicorns tried to help the twins. Harry expected Hermione’s explaining what it felt like would have them into unicorn form rather quickly. He was wrong.

It was late afternoon when the twins finally mastered the transformation spell. No sooner did one transform, than the other followed so closely it almost looked simultaneous. Watching the two twins, with magenta coats that clashed horribly with the Weasley-red mane and tail, kicking up their heels and racing around the garden while shooting spells at each other was quite entertaining. The twins spent the rest of the afternoon practicing casting spells as unicorns. And using each other as targets.

That took them a little getting used to as they kept trying to move their horns as if they were wands, making both unicorns a bit dizzy after a while. Hermione had already learned that lesson, and tried to warn them. Naturally, they didn’t listen to the bossy unicorn.

۸- ̫ -۸

38 — Dear God! It’s a Rabbit-hole!

Author's Note

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38 — Dear God! It’s a Rabbit-hole!

Castor hopped off the double-decker and headed down the street. It was a short walk to the Sport and Social Club building, officially named the Special Air Service Retireds’ Regimental Club. He stepped inside.

“Sergeant Searle, it’s been some time since you visited us last,” said the official doorman.

“Too true, Corporal Johnson, too true. But needs must, you know.” He handed the man his umbrella and light coat. He straightened his tie in the mirror by the closet and brushed down his shirt and waistcoat. “Is the Colonel in?”

“Yes, sir, I believe he’s in the Red smoking room upstairs. Shall I see if he’s engaged?”

“Yes, please.”

Castor walked into the main lounge and looked over the room. Most of the occupants were engrossed in either their newspapers or quiet conversation.

“The Colonel will see you now,” Johnson said behind him.

The ex-Sergeant nodded his head and followed him.

“Ah, Sergeant Searle, what a surprise,” said the silver-haired man holding what was probably a whiskey in his hand, “Haven’t seen you since your last promotion in Surrey.” He was seated in a comfortable armchair, with a bottle and a second glass, already filled, on the table beside him. “What brings you to me today?” He gave Castor a quick up and down look. “And formal, too.”

“Well, sir, I’ve seen something that makes me a tad nervous. It’s probably just my imagination, but . . . .” He shook his head. “Nothing illegal, what I’ve checked is all above board. But it just doesn’t sit right.” He handed the Colonel the printout of property sales in Little Whinging and sat in the chair across from him.

The Colonel put down his glass and gestured to Searle to take the full glass on the table, then sat back and began perusing the papers. Castor took a sip. Yes, it was whiskey. He sighed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees as he waited for the officer’s reaction. When the Colonel looked up and arched an eyebrow, he explained what he had seen when he visited Wisteria Estate in Little Whinging earlier that day.

“Interesting story,” the Colonel said, topping off Castor’s whiskey glass from the decanter.

“Uh huh.” He took another sip. “Everything seems to be going through this conveyance solicitor, Lin Yueshi. I checked with PC Stanford, he knows the man. Says he’s been straight, as far as he knows. No problems and never been in trouble — not a difficult feat when all you do is handle conveyances, but still . . . .

“And then I have to wonder how they managed to get everyone to sell. I’d expect several to dig in their heels and say no, or hold out for more quid. But the records indicate they all sold for normal market values. Which is not normal. Someone always wants more.”

He frowned at his glass. “On the other hand, this Yueshi was the one who set us on the Dursleys. Said he had a confidential source that something very bad had been going on there for several years.” He looked up at the Colonel. “You might have missed that, it hasn’t hit the papers yet in any detail. Don’t know why.” He shook his head. “An orphan boy living with abusive relatives. Straight out of Dickens. Nobody’s seen the boy in a year. Word is he ran away.” He scowled. “Enough blood stains to make ya wonder if he didn’t.” He shook his head. “They’re currently at Her Majesty’s pleasure, waiting trial.”

He took another sip. “There’s more to this solicitor than anyone knows, I say. P.C. Stanford says he claimed client privilege when he asked for a bit more information about the buyer. Just said they wanted the properties for a big, and legal, project.”

Then he explained what had happened when he had returned to Magnolia Road that evening before coming here.

The Colonel was holding his whiskey glass up before him, rolling it back and forth between his palms, deep in thought.

“Colonel, there’s something really dodgy going on here. She knew I was watching, but the angle I was at would have required her to step outside and look. I would have seen her. And she didn’t. I would have said someone rang her up, but the houses within sight were all vacant. Or are supposed to be. She could have hopped over fences in the back-gardens until she could see me, but then she would have had to know I was there in the first place. If she was in the forest, then why would she just stand in the forest watching me for two hours?”

He sighed. “There are a half-dozen ways she could have known I was there, but none of them are things a civilian should think about or do.

“And just how did she know P.C. Havers and I had stopped to look in the houses on Privet Drive and Wisteria Way?”

He took a deep breath. “Well. I know there’s nothing you can do, it’s just that I thought someone should know, just in case.” He shook his head. “Give me a HALO any day over this crap.”

The colonel grinned at him. “I understand completely. Give me a straight up fight and I’m fine. Creeping around in the dark when you don’t know who or what to trust? Nuh-uh. Don’t like that at-all.” He sighed and became serious. “Look, I’ll contact a few friends and see if I can find anything. Hopefully, it’s all just some industrial manoeuvring and nothing serious.” He finished his whiskey. “Ring up your Chief Inspector and let him know. Take a P.C. with you for backup, and a sergeant, if your Chief will allow it. As you say, it’s probably nothing. Let me know how it turns out.”

Castor hoped he wasn’t about to hit the second Chinese Curse of Life — “May you live in interesting times.”

۸-ꞈ-۸

Harry and the fillies had settled into a simple routine. They spent their nights in Little Whinging and the days at the Weasleys, playing and practicing magic, where, to their great delight, sap was not involved.

The adult Equestrians took turns staying with them in Little Whinging — or Little Whinnying, as Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash liked to call it — almost always with Twilight. Rarity and Applejack took turns. Sometimes one of Scootaloo’s aunts would join them. Twilight and Blueblood spent their days working on the embassy problem, sometimes with the help of one of the others when they weren't working their jobs in Equestria. Or the mares took additional shopping expeditions in both new worlds. Harry didn't have to guess who led the attacks on the bookstores!

Applejack did take Ron into the orchard one day and spent it teaching him about earth-pony magic. Ron didn’t mind the lessons, as he was learning magic that only he, as an earth-pony, could do! And the orchard had never looked better, according to his father.

Their finding and helping to ripen several whortleberry bushes had made Mrs. Weasley very happy. Getting an entire harvest at once instead of across several weeks meant she could make several pies instead of the occasional small tarts she had always had to do before. Not to mention the time saved in trekking back and forth. Ginny was especially pleased, as she and Ron usually had the chore of picking them.

The Weasleys, and the Quidditch team, were curious about ‘Atlantis.’ And the Equestrians were curious about the wizarding world. Questions were asked, and answered. It wasn’t difficult for the Equestrians to not mention the name for their homeland as most everything they talked about was in Ponyville or something they had heard about in Canterlot. Apple Bloom did mention Appleloosa a few times because of her cousins.

Ginny no longer ran from the room when Harry arrived — her pegasus form seemed to have given her new confidence. However, she tended to squeak whenever she came across him unexpectedly. Or he, her.

Two days after Ginny and the quidditch team had learned to switch to their animagus forms, Scootaloo had had a sleep-over with the girls so she could teach them the proper methods to groom and care for their new feathery appendages. Then the four of them had cornered Oliver the next morning and proceeded to embarrass him half to death by showing him, and having him practice on them. The older girls seemed to find it hilarious, to the younger two’s confusion.

It was a necessary skill, after all. And very relaxing when someone else was doing the work. Fingers, Scootaloo discovered, were marvellously efficient at that particular task.

The twins running commentary had been funny, Harry had thought, until Oliver grabbed his wand and chased them away with threats of unrelenting quidditch practices once they got back to school.

Tonight was going to be another sleepover, this time for all of the younger kids — Ron and Harry in one bedroom while the five girls had a different one. Although, if they were going to be using the trunks’ bedrooms because they were bigger than the Weasleys’ bedrooms, was the sleepover going to be at Little Whinging, at the Weasleys, or in between?

۸- ̬ -۸

Miss Arrow opened the door as he walked up to it. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” she said. She made a show of leaning to the side and looking at his car. “P.C. Barbara Havers couldn’t make it, I assume.” The curtains in the windows were drawn, so he couldn’t see into the sitting-room.

He smiled at her wanly, “No, I didn’t want to disturb her day off.” Actually, she was in a van with P.C. Stanford. They were parked near Little Whinging centre and monitoring the radio wire he was wearing.

“That’s too bad,” the woman said. “It might have been better if she were here, too.” She opened the door wide and gestured he should come in. “Come in, some important people are waiting for you.”

With more than a little trepidation, Castor stepped inside. She pointed into the sitting-room as he walked past her. She closed the door, and followed him into the sitting-room. He stopped and looked at the six people gathered in there. One woman was standing by the fireplace, a slightly older man in his late twenties was seated in the armchair beside the fireplace to Castor’s left, three young women were on a couch against the wall on the right, and a gentleman of about the same age as Castor was standing beside the couch. Searle estimated that the young women were all of barely college age.

Miss Arrow stepped in front of him and bowed to the attractive standing woman, who had waist-length dark-purple hair with a pink stripe slightly to the right of the middle. The woman was wearing an expensive and finely tailored dress, in subtle shades of blue, with white stars scattered across the bottom. Like Miss Arrow’s dress, and the dresses worn by the other women, it reached to her knees in length. She looked at Castor inquisitively and seemed a little nervous.

“Your Highnesses, Ladies, allow me to introduce Detective Inspector Castor Searle,” Miss Arrow said in a formal tone.

Castor felt his eyebrows shoot up.

Miss Arrow turned to face him, “Detective Inspector Castor Searle, I would like you to meet Her Royal Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” she swept her arm to indicate the standing woman.

He nodded at her, “Pleased to meet you, your Highness.” He bowed. He had no idea what these people were playing at, but he could play along until he got the true lay of the land.

“And it is a pleasure to meet you, too, Detective Inspector Castor Searle,” she said, nodding her head back at him. “Please call me Twilight.” She paused a second, then added. “I find the title to be tiresome.”

He nodded again, but before he could say anything, Miss Arrow continued with her introduction. “This is his Highness, Prince Blueblood.”

The man, seated in an old armchair, had long, straight, golden-blonde hair spilling half-way down his sides. He had a bored expression and a tea cup in his hand. He was wearing a tailored charcoal-grey three-piece suit with a rose-red boutonniere. Castor didn’t recognize the flower, but the way it seemed to slightly shimmer in the light was unusual. He also recognized the aristocratic air the man had. This man was noble-born. Or a very good actor. Time would tell.

“A pleasure to meet you, your Highness,” Castor said.

He got a sniff and a bored, “Of course it is,” in response.

“Lady Rarity,” Miss Arrow said next. She indicated a purple-haired beauty wearing a yellow and pink dress sitting on the couch. Lady Rarity had a rose-coloured light shawl that colour-coordinated perfectly with her dress.

He smiled at her and offered a soft, “A pleasure, I’m sure.” He got a demure smile in return and a “Nice to meet you” response.

“Lady Rainbow Dash,” was the woman beside Lady Rarity, another lovely young woman who had, literally, a rainbow of colours in her hair and wore a dress to match. She had a look in her eye, as if she were about to challenge him to a race — which was a very odd thing for Castor to think. “Hiya,” she said before he could open his mouth. He nodded to her and gave her a “Nice to meet you” response

He noticed the edges of Prince Blood’s mouth turn down in disapproval at the young woman’s casual attitude.

“Lady Applejack,” Miss Arrow continued. This pretty, young woman had pale-yellow hair and wore a green dress decorated with apples. And was seated beside the other two women. Incongruously, she was wearing an American-style Western hat. “Howdy pardner,” she said in a thick southwestern American accent, standing and holding out her hand. He shook it, responding with a simple, “Hello, nice to meet you.” She sat back down. He had to wonder about the accent. It was so out of place with the others. And why she was the only one to stand and shake his hand.

“And this is Solicitor Lin Yueshi, Esquire,” she concluded. The man stepped forward and held out his hand. He was probably Chinese, Castor guessed. And not a piker, as his strong grip confirmed. “A pleasure to meet you,” said the man.

“And to meet you,” replied Castor.

The D.I. took a moment to look around the room. It was decidedly out of step with the people in it. It looked more as if an old spinster lived here and not obviously very rich nobles. What was going on here?

Another woman came into the sitting-room from the short hall. She had probably been in the kitchen. She whispered something to Miss Arrow, who made a face of displeasure and turned to Searle. “Excuse me, Detective Inspector Castor Searle, but are you trying to allow others to listen in to our conversation?”

Castor froze in place. They had detected the radio signal? “I’m sorry, what do you mean?”

She nodded at his response, as if she had expected it. “Would you please step outside for a moment and reassure your colleagues that everything is fine? They are getting a bit agitated that your signal cut off the moment you stepped inside.” She gave him a significant look. “We wouldn’t want there to be any incidents, now would we?”

He felt his face heat up as he blushed, he was a soldier and detective, not an undercover agent or spy. He cleared his throat, “Certainly.” He followed her to the door and then stepped outside under her watchful eye.

“P.C. Havers,” he said. “I’m fine. They have some sort of signal-blocking device inside the house, so you’ll just have to be patient.” A police car turned the corner at the far end of the street. He stepped farther out and waved, smiling. The car cruised up and stopped. The officers inside gave him a questioning look. He nodded and gave them the hand signal that he wasn’t in any danger. He used his body to block it from being seen by the woman, who was clearly a bodyguard of some kind. After a long look at him, they nodded and left.

As he stepped past her into the house, Miss Arrow said, “Don’t worry, I would have done the same. Glad to see you’re being professional about things.”

‘Prince’ Blue Blood was giving him the stink-eye when he stepped back into the sitting-room, however. He noticed that Miss Arrow took a position straddling the boundary between the hall and the sitting-room and watching both the front door and him. Much the way a professional body-guard would.

‘Princess’ Twilight Sparkle smiled at him. “Please sit,” she indicated an armchair by the windows and across the room from the fireplace. “I’m happy to see you’re taking this seriously. We’re hoping you’ll be able to help us with a problem.”

“How so?” he said as he sat.

“Well,” she glanced uncertainly at her friends. “As you noticed, the houses on this street are all vacant. So are the ones on the streets around us.” She paused and looked at him.

“Yes, I know.” He knew that pretending he didn’t know more would be a mistake. “A company by the name of ‘Royal Equestrian Properties’ seems to have bought them all. Your company, I would guess.”

She smiled broadly. “Excellent! You’ve done your homework.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “I have to give you a bit of background, and it’s going to be hard to believe. We can prove it all, but that’s for later.”

He nodded.

“We come from a foreign nation, and we want to establish an Embassy with your fine country. The problem is, your Foreign Office refuses to believe we are a sovereign nation wanting to establish an embassy.”

The solicitor was nodding.

“They told us to have an Ambassador from a country we have relations with to make an appointment to meet with the proper authorities. Then she can introduce our Ambassador, who in turn, would then tender our Ambassadorial papers.” She shook her head. “We don’t know any Ambassadors to assist us. Hence, we can’t make an appointment, except at the lowest levels, and that appointment would be several months away, if ever.”

She nodded her head. “We could just appear in front of Buckingham Palace, but that would undoubtedly cause a panic. The same is true if we simply went to the newspapers with our request. Except some people would say it was a hoax, and then things would get tiresome. In both cases, I’m afraid we would be swamped here with curiosity seekers. It could quickly get out of hand. And we might end up with a situation neither of us wants.” She looked back at him.

“That’s why we were so pleased to hear that you had noticed the vacant houses and had stopped by. If you were to relay our request up your chain of command, with appropriate proofs, it shouldn’t take too long before the Foreign Office was informed and then we could present our Ambassadorial papers and get the ball rolling!”

To Castor’s surprise, she actually hopped in place. He stared at her, stunned. For all the expensiveness and fine tailoring of her dress, it was apparent she wasn’t wearing any underwear support. He blinked.

“You represent a foreign government that no one has ever heard of?” he asked incredulously. The Foreign Office had a list of every country in the world. If a solicitor showed up asking to make an appointment for his client to present Ambassadorial papers, all they had to do was look at that list, and set an appointment. If the country wasn’t listed, then they would call it a prank and toss the man out the door. If he made enough of a nuisance of himself, they would arrest him.

She stopped bouncing and sighed.

“Yes. And that’s where it gets complicated.” She looked at him, her head tilted slightly. “When I say a foreign country, I mean a foreign country on a different world. Equestria is the largest country on our world, Equus.”

“World?” He was sure his eyebrows couldn’t be any higher. “Then, how did you get here?” he said sceptically. He almost asked if they had a flying saucer in the back garden.

She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the forest across the street. “We discovered a portal between our worlds. It’s rather small, just big enough for someone to walk through. But it’s there. That’s why we’re buying all these properties — so no one accidentally comes across it before we’re ready. And we will have ample room to protect it once word does get out.”

He sat, blinking. This was straight out of a science fiction film — Time Bandits or Evil Dead came to mind — without the bizarre appearances and equally bizarre circumstances. Although there were the striking hair colours. “So, you’re aliens?” Except for their brilliantly-coloured hair, they didn’t look any different from any other person he had ever seen. In fact, they looked a lot more mainstream human than some of the people he had run into during his time in Sport and Social!

The one with rainbow-coloured hair snickered. “Oh, yeah,” she said, “that’s an easy one.”

“Dash!” said the Princess, firmly.

“Awww,” Dash cajoled, “Come on, this is boring! Let’s just show him, already.”

The Princess sighed. The Prince rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like “Uncouth commoners.” He looked even more bored than before, giving the impression he would rather be almost anywhere else. And that he was here only because he had no choice in the matter.

“Right,” the Princess said, more to herself than anyone else. She looked back at Castor. “We really are aliens to this world. There really is a portal between our worlds in the forest over there.” She again pointed in that direction. “And we look nothing like we appear to you.” She smirked. “In fact, I’ve been told that we are quite ‘adorable.’”

The solicitor gave him a half-smile. “They are, indeed, adorable,” he said wryly. “I thought they were a telly show pranking me when we first met last month.” He looked levelly at Castor. “They are telling the truth.”

“Can I now?” asked Dash eagerly, “Can I? It’s the quickest way to convince him short of tossing him through the portal like we did Linny here!”

The Princess sighed. “Okay,” she said resignedly, “Go ahead.”

“YEAH!” shouted the woman on the couch.

He stared in complete disbelief as a small horse appeared on the couch where the woman had been sitting, still wearing her dress. She was blue-furred, with a rainbow-coloured mane and tail. She had no sooner appeared, then she launched herself into the air and hovered, her wings flapping lazily. He could see that slits in the back of her dress allowed her wings to come out without hindrance. He leaned back in shock as she flew around the room, breaking almost every law of physics he was aware of — and probably a few he wasn’t. And she couldn’t have been more than a meter tall, from hooves to the top of her head. He had never heard of horses that small.

“Oh, Celestia, this feels good.” She hovered in front of the Princess. “Sitting there without wings was just killin’ me,” she said, rolling her eyes in exaggeration.

He heard a sigh from the couch, drawing his attention. As soon as he looked, Lady Rarity turned into a small white horse with a poufy purple mane and tail. And a horn on her forehead. She was a bloody unicorn! She jumped down from her place on the couch and posed.

His wife was going to think he had gone off his trolley when he told her of this.

Lady Apple Jack laughed at his expression, and transformed into a small orange horse with a pale-yellow mane. She had neither wings nor a horn, but her hat remained in place. And seemed oddly suited for her.

The dresses for the . . . ponies, were draped across their bodies. Their previous knee-lengths meant the fronts of the skirts now hung down almost to the floor.

The Princess spoke again, “And there you see three of the seven major pony races in Equestria: Unicorn,” Lady Rarity lifted her head proudly, “Pegasus . . . ,”

“That’s me,” said the flying horse, zipping over to him and then back.

“. . . and Earth.” Lady Apple Jack, her hat still on her head, just sat on the couch, much as a cat or dog sits upright, and grinned at him.

Flummoxed at what he was seeing, he said the only thing he could think of at the moment to the Princess, “Which one are you?”

She sighed. “I was a unicorn, but I recently ascended to the rarest type of pony in our world — there are only four of us — I’m an alicorn.” Almost reluctantly, she changed into a purple horse with both wings and a horn. “That makes me a member of the Royal family.” She was a little bit larger than the other three.

Castor turn his eyes towards ‘Prince’ Blue Blood. The man rolled his eyes. “I am not an entertainer to perform parlour tricks on request,” he said snootily in a refined accent, “Especially not to commoners.” He took a sip of his tea. “I am a unicorn and a member of the Royal Family. And I am Princesses Celestia’s and Luna’s chosen Ambassador to your barbaric world. That is all you need to know.”

“Blueblood!” the Princess said sharply.

The man tsked, rolled his eyes, and looked up at the curtains. His expression settled back into that of someone incredibly bored. The other horses gave the man disapproving looks and grumbled.

The Detective Inspector turned to look at Miss Arrow.

She grinned and said, “I’m on duty.”

The solicitor came over and held out a cup of tea in a saucer with one hand. “I think you might need this.” When Castor looked at him, he smiled and tilted his other hand so that Castor could see the small shot-bottle of whiskey concealed therein before dropping it into his pocket. Searle looked up at the solicitor, who nodded while arching an eyebrow. “I needed a rather stiff drink after first meeting them, too,” he said softly.

Gratefully, Castor took the proffered saucer and took a sip from the cup. He nodded. “Thanks.” Then he drained the cup. The burn as it went down felt wonderfully bracing.

“Think nothing of it.” He could hear the amusement in the Oriental’s voice.

Castor thought about what he now knew. Aliens. Honest-to-god aliens. And another world accessible through a portal. The implications were so far above his paygrade he couldn’t even calculate where to start! His mind was spinning in so many directions that it might as well have been blank.

And they really were the cutest things he had ever seen.

He heard one of the horses — no, she had said ponies, they were ponies — say, “He’s awfully quiet. Do you think we broke him?”

The solicitor cleared his throat. “No, just thinking deeply.”

Castor looked up from his empty tea cup. “Mind if I ring someone up? Invite them over?”

The Princess looked at him and shook her head, “Nope, go right ahead. We cleared the day for this.”

“Thank you,” he said. He stood and walked over to the telephone and started dialling. He kept his back to the ponies and people, and would try to keep his voice low. The telephone was probably bugged, anyway, he reflected.

Aliens had “landed” in England. And their heads barely reached his belly button. He stared at the staircase wall in front of him as the phone on the other end rang. They were going to throw the entire world into turmoil. And ground zero was right here in the nondescript little town of Little Whinging, Surrey, England. And, god help him, he was in the middle of it.

He had well and truly fallen into the rabbit-hole. The only question left was . . . .

۸-_-۸

39 — How Deep Is It?

“S.A.S. Regimental Club.”

“Hello. Is the Colonel in? This is Sergeant Searle”

“I will see if he is engaged.” Castor waited for a minute or so for the Club’s Corporal to check, and deliver a phone if he was.

There was a loud click as the receiver was lifted. “Colonel Thiessen here.”

“Ah, Colonel? I was hoping you’d be in.”

“Have you concluded your appointment?”

“Actually, I am there right now, sir. Number Eleven Magnolia Road, Little Whinging.”

“Indeed.”

“Uh-huh, it’s much more than what we thought. Could you come out here? It’s rather important.”

“Is it now?” He could hear the doubt and annoyance in the man’s voice.

“Yes, sir. These people are, well, I can say without fear of exaggeration, that this is a matter of national security . . . and the Foreign Office.”

He heard a heavy sigh.

“And before you ask, yes. Yes, I’m sober. Very sober. Much more so than I want to be, if you want to know the truth.

“And what is it that is so important?”

It was his turn to sigh. “If I tried to tell you, you’d think I had been drinking . . . I can assure you that the Prime Minister and the Queen will have to be briefed. And it involves an Ambassador from a foreign country.”

“Is that so?” came the reserved response.

“You can have my pension if you think I’m wrong.”

“If this indeed is a matter of national security . . .”

“It is. Very, very, much so, sir.”

“Then I will need to make a few phone calls and bring some others with me.”

He turned and asked, “Can he bring some people with him?”

The Princess looked at her friends and shrugged. “Sure,” she looked around the room and smiled, “Just remember, we aren’t exactly in a lecture hall here.”

He turned to face the staircase again. “Yes, bring whom you want, but not too many, we are in a small-house sitting-room . . . and bring cameras. Lots of cameras.”

“Cameras. For evidence, I assume? It’ll be about two hours.”

“That’s correct. About two hours? . . . See you then.” He hung up and turned to face them again.

“He has to make a few phone calls, and then he’ll be right over. He’s in London, so it’ll take about two hours for him to get here. Mind if I bring P.C. Havers up to speed?”

“No. No, I don’t mind at all — why don’t you invite her in?” the Princess suggested.

He stepped outside, Miss Arrow just behind him. “Hey, P.C. Havers. I’m just checking in. This is so far out of our jurisdiction, it’s not funny. I used the phone inside to kick it upstairs. Someone will be here in about two hours.”

He turned and went back inside, Miss Arrow again following him. Seeing their questioning looks, he said, “She wouldn’t come in, anyway. Standard Operating Procedure. It might be a trap.”

They all nodded in understanding. “That’s too bad,” said the Princess. She sighed, “But I understand the reasoning. That would be something Chrysalis would do.” She looked up at him. “Set a trap, I mean. Fortunately, we have no interest in setting traps.” The little purple pony began trotting in place. “There is just so much to learn!” She spun in place.

The flying one, Lady Dash, snickered, “Don’t let her in your national Library, we’d never get her out of it!”

The orange one, Lady Jack, he thought, laughed and said, “She’s already figure’d out it would take a hunerd and fourteen years to read all yer books!” She paused, then muttered, “And I wouldn’t put it past her to try.”

The Princess stopped trotting and stomped her hoof. “Girls, that’s over twenty times the number of books in the Royal Canterlot Library! And they publish more books in a week than we do in a year!”

Lady Rarity said, “Twilight, you’ve already shipped home more books than the sociologists can read in a year!”

Lady Dash laughed again, “Yeah, I thought that bookstore manager was gonna pee his pants when you gave him that order for five thousand books. And then paid him in bits in advance.”

“But he was such a gentlestallion, delivering them to us himself when they arrived,” said Lady Rarity approvingly.

Lady Dash snorted, “And got an order for another thousand books for his trouble!”

Castor stared at them. This was terrible. They had been here for weeks and were basically looting the human world’s knowledge. Sure, they were paying for everything, but they now had far more intelligence on the humans than the humans could possibly get in return in years!

He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind my asking, just how advanced are you, compared to us?”

They stopped their arguing over whether or not the Princess was too enthusiastic about books and turned back to him. He noticed that Prince Blood was now watching him instead of staring off into the distance.

The Princess frowned. “Well, in some areas we are clearly far ahead of you — while you know far more about viruses and bacteria and their transmission, we can cure most diseases without difficulty. Cancer, which seems to be a big issue for you, is a simple potion-cure if we can catch it early enough.” She sighed, “Although we do still lose a pony to it every now and then. We can regrow lost limbs, as well. If we can get someone to a healer fast enough, we can almost always save them, no matter what their affliction.” She smiled proudly. “It helps that we’re very durable. From what we’ve seen on your telly, you people are extremely fragile. Crashes that would leave one of us slightly dazed seem to kill you outright.”

She started trotting in place again, “However, your advances in in vitreo fertilization are simply stunning! And operating on foetuses to fix problems before birth? Astounding!”

She sighed and stood still. “On the other hoof, militarily, we are far behind you. Most of our guards train with spears and crossbows.” She smiled. “We do have fireworks, but not rockets, rifles, or cannons. We’ve never needed anything more advanced to deal with our enemies, so we never pushed any further.” She smirked. “In fact, I know of one recent war that was settled by a pie fight.” She shuddered. “I cannot imagine needing something as terrible as one of your nuclear weapons.”

He stared at her incredulously. “A pie fight?” he repeated weakly. Was she kidding him?

She nodded. “And we do have a railroad system. It’s not as extensive as yours, and we use steam engines. As for flight, well, one-third of our population flies, so it has never really been an issue. I do have a balloon I use sometimes, though. And there are a few blimps in commercial use. Some nobles use them as air-going yachts, too. But we have nothing like your commercial jets.” She hummed for a moment. “We’ve just never seen the need for that much speed, I guess.”

“Jets, phht,” Lady Dash said disparagingly. “I’m the fastest pegasus in Equestria.” She flew up almost into his face. “I can clear a sky of clouds in ten seconds, flat!”

“Clouds,” he repeated, bewildered, “Ten seconds?”

“Oh, yes,” the Princess continued, “We control almost all the weather, with only occasional freak storms coming in from the Everfree Forest or the oceans.” She frowned as she looked over at the curtained windows. “That’s actually one of the hardest things for us to get used to here — the weather here is so random. We would never allow a tornado to do so much damage.” She shuddered. “And I can’t remember the last time I heard of a rainstorm causing a flood. We would disperse such a storm long before it endangered any lives.” She looked over and up at Dash, who was hovering just below the ceiling. “We’ll be doing the Running of the Leaves to usher in Fall in a few weeks.”

Lady Dash zoomed over to hover in front of Lady Jack. “I’m gonna beat you this year, just you wait!”

Apple Jack rolled her eyes. “You’all keep telling yerself that, honey.”

Rainbow Dash just glared at her.

“And then there’s quantum physics,” Twilight said, ignoring the two squabbling ponies. Lady Dash had landed and the two were now shouldering each other back and forth like a couple rugby rivals, as the Prince watched disapprovingly. “It sounds remarkably similar to our theories. The String theory proposed by your scientists is quite interesting and would explain some things that we’ve been puzzling over the last hundred years. I think that if we cooperate we might be able to pull together a complete universal theory of everything that will fit all the observational evidence we have.”

“And we’ve confirmed the multi-world theory, as well as time-travel.” She shuddered. “Time travel is just . . . too . . . paradoxical.”

He knew his mouth was hanging open. Militarily, they were at the bow-and-arrow era, yet their medicine out-stripped the dreams of almost every doctor in the world, and they had an understanding of quantum theory that only the most highly-developed modern countries could afford to research. Plus, they could CONTROL THE BLOODY WEATHER! A bloody deep rabbit-hole, indeed!

۸- ̰ -۸

“So, back in your home world, you’re mostly herbivories and only pegasi eat meat with any regularity?”

“That’s correct,” said Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Castor had heard of horses eating meat on occasion, but it was still a surprise to hear that these . . . ponies . . . did so, too. So, he supposed, it shouldn’t be all that outrageous to hear that while they were in their human forms, they also ate meat. They might not be completely comfortable, emotionally, doing so, but they did do it. Then again, there had been a few dishes served to him when he was overseas with the Sport and Social that he would rather not think about.

He glanced down at the two pony heads lying on his thighs. He wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened.

The two ponies had been in the midst of their continuing shoving match — to Prince Blood’s obvious disdain and disgust — when they stumbled over to his chair. Reflexively, as with a big dog, he had reached out to push them away. By accident, he had done what he would have done with any friendly large dog, He had started scratching one of them, Dash, he thought, behind the ear, as a distraction.

Her eyes had gone wide and she had immediately leaned into it. He had been surprised that she hadn’t started purring. Lady Jack had watched, puzzled, until Lady Dash had groaned and said, “Oh Celestia! This is fabulous.” And twisted her head so he could scratch the other ear.

A second later, he was using both hands. He had gone down the back of their necks, in their manes, to much moaning and wriggling in place. And startled looks from the Princess and Lady Rarity. When he started scratching at the base of Dash’s wings, he had thought she was going to melt to the floor. Followed, a second later, by her murmured, “Marry me!”

Which had led to his current predicament. Trapped in his chair by two ponies who weighed as much as he did. He would have liked a refill on his tea, but every time he stopped massaging an ear, the owner of said ear would growl. And open one eye to glare at him. Currently, the orange one had him scratching her back just below her shoulder blades.

Meanwhile, he had time to reflect that the ponies didn’t need high-tech weapons to conquer humanity. With those soulful eyes, fluffy coats, and overall adorable appearance, people would walk into their cages without complaint, all the while cooing at how adorable and cute their captors were. Of course, the humans could retaliate by refusing to give tummy rubs and ear scratches unless the ponies capitulated, in turn. It would be a Mexican Standoff — or would that be a stalemate? — situation.

A woman walked up behind Miss Arrow and whispered in her ear. Miss Arrow then went to the Princess said something. Princess Twilight nodded and looked over at the Detective Inspector. “Your friends should be here in a few moments.” She gave him a tight smile. “They seem to have brought reinforcements, who are waiting just outside the neighbourhood.”

He nodded slowly. “I kind of expected that.”

She gave him a wry smile. “I suppose I did too.”

“Excuse me, Ladies, but I’m needed,” he said looking down at his two lap-weights.

“Aww,” Lady Dash said disappointedly, “Do you have to? You can wait a few more minutes . . . .”

Lady Jack just sighed deeply and said, “Come on, Dash, might as well change back to people again.” Suiting actions to words, he had a young woman leaning against his legs. Unfortunately, he now had his hand very inappropriately partway down the back of her dress. He jerked his hand back, and felt his face turn hot as he blushed. She gave him a questioning look, clearly not understanding the impropriety of where he had had his hand.

He hoped no one ever mentioned it to his wife — he doubted she would be as blasé about the incident. She was rather territorial.

Dash sighed in turn and slowly straightened before turning back into a person, as well. “Oh,” she said contentedly, “That was wonderful! Twi, you have to hire one of these guys as official ear-scratcher at the palace!” She sighed again.

“Y’all mean wing scratcher, don’t ya?” snarked her friend.

Castor blinked as he watched Lady Dash turn a bright red.

“Hay,” she said in embarrassment, “it was nothing like that!”

Lady Applejack snickered, “You keep tellin’ yerself that, honey.” In a softer undertone that only the three of them could hear, she added, “I heard you propose, there, sugarcube!”

Dash flushed an even darker shade of red that began to creep down her chest and out from under the short sleeves of her dress.

Castor gave them both a wide-eyed look, then stood. “Well,” he said, then cleared his throat, “I should probably meet them outside. It might be a good move to open the curtains, as well.” He headed for the front door, Miss Arrow behind him.

When he glanced back inside as he stepped outside, he saw a guard taking her previous position. When he looked back at his car at the curb, he saw a man leaning casually against the side of the house across the street, a woman beside the house to the left, and another standing at the path into the forest. It looked like the Equestrians had called in a few reinforcements of their own. Or decided to let him see the ones they had had already in position.

He had to be careful. They were cute and adorable, but clearly the top predators of their world — despite looking and acting like a prey species — and therefore must be dangerous in their own way.

He heard an excited babble of voices from the sitting-room as Miss Arrow closed the front door behind them.

The Landrover that pulled up behind his car fairly screamed that oxy-moron, Military Intelligence, at him. Probably M.I. 5. However, because this involved a possible ambassador, it might be M.I. 6. Maybe both.

The Colonel had some high friends indeed. And they had actually listened, for once!

Four people climbed out of the Landrover, one of them festooned with cameras. The Colonel had taken his suggestion to heart, Castor was pleased to see. He met them half-way down the garage drive.

“This had better be good,” the Colonel half-growled.

Castor gave him a weak smile. “Good afternoon, Colonel, gentlemen,” he said. “Before we go any further I must say that my radio link to my associate, P.C. Havers, cut out the moment I stepped inside the door. So, if any of you have transmitters, they will fail.” He gave them a moment to consider that. And the listeners on the other end to finish cursing. “I’ve asked them to keep the curtains open.” They all looked over to the front windows were they saw the five women looking back at them, and waving when they saw the men looking at them. Castor noticed that Miss Arrow, by the front door, had partially turned to look into the forest at the end of the street. Which just so happened to keep an ear in their direction, He half-smiled to himself. She would have to have exceptional hearing to learn anything. He faced the Colonel, again. “And they told me you were almost here when you drove into the estate.”

That made the newcomers exchange looks.

“With reinforcements.”

The looks exchanged were a bit more alarmed.

“Here’s the problem. These people are aliens. As in, not from our world.” He ignored the mild snort of disbelief from one of the two men he had marked as M.I. agents. The other merely rolled his eyes and stared at him.

“We don’t want to cock this up, we’ll only have one chance at it, I’m sure. They can prove it, and did to me.” He looked at the man with the cameras. “Do you have a video camera?”

The man nodded.

“Get it out and get it going.” He looked at the Colonel, who had raised his eyebrows. “Trust me, you’ll want a full record of this.”

He waited for the man to get the camera running. “They want to establish an Embassy with us. That’s why they invited me to meet them. I’ll let them explain the rest.” He turned and led the small group to the house.

Miss Arrow opened the door for them and ushered them inside.

“Your Highnesses, Ladies,” Castor said as soon as they were in the sitting-room. He turned to the Colonel. “May I present Colonel Jayson Thiessen, Retired. Colonel,” He turned back to the Equestrians. “I would like to introduce Her Royal Highness Twilight Sparkle, His Highness Blue Blood, Lady Rarity, Lady Apple Jack, and Lady Rainbow Dash. And this gentleman is their solicitor, Lin Yueshi.”

The Colonel gave him a long look, then turned to the waiting Equestrians and bobbed his head in an abbreviated bow. “Your Highnesses, Ladies, it is a pleasure to meet you. These three gentlemen with me are Lewis Carroll, John Tenniel, and Charles Dodgson.” Each gave a similar bob of their head as they were named, murmuring cordial greetings.

John had his video camera held in one hand, running, and was glancing occasionally at the tiny display turned to one side.

“Your Highness, I think we should first demonstrate that you really are not natives to this world,” Castor suggested to Princess Twilight.

“Oh! Me! Me!” shouted Lady Dash leaping to her feet.

They all noticed Prince Blood rolling his eyes and sighing deeply, Princess Sparkle face-palming, and the others all shaking their heads.

The Princess nodded, “Yes, Dash, go ahead,” she said with an annoyed sigh.

“YES!” shouted Dash jumping up and transforming back into her native form in mid-air. She swung around to face the astonished newcomers. “Bet you didn’t expect that, did ya?”

She laughed. “It’s me — Rainbow Dash! The fastest pegasus in Equestria!” She zipped around the room almost too fast to see, banking around the walls like those motorcycle daredevils who race on horizontal tracks, as Castor had once seen on the news. How she missed clipping one of them with her wings as she did so, he couldn’t figure out. He shook his head. He had seen some people with massive egos, but this pony would give them a real run for their money.

The newcomers couldn’t take their eyes off of her as the Colonel muttered, “They’re flying horses?”

Castor cleared his throat and, speaking softly, said, “Uh, no, sir. Only some of them are flying ponies. The rest are either regular ponies or unicorns.” The Colonel was smart enough to catch his emphasis.

The Colonel gave him a sharp look, as did Carroll and Dodgson. Tenniel was keeping the camera focused on the pegasus. “Unicorns?” Their expressions ranged from a controlled blank to surprise, and even a bit of fear. But they were professionals and kept themselves under control.

“Yes sir, and Princess Sparkle has both a horn and wings. She calls herself an alicorn. She said there are only four of them in her world,” Searle concluded, still in an undertone.

The next half hour was spent with the Princess explaining how they had gotten here, how they had tried to present diplomatic papers, and what they hoped the humans could do for them today. And posing for pictures for Tenniel, both with and without the humans. And both as humans and ponies.

Castor was sure that it wasn’t until the others had actually touched the ponies — Lady Dash had insisted they scratch her ears — that they began to believe it was all real.

The Colonel sat with his elbows on his knees — three “aliens” had brought in additional chairs from the dining room. He was thinking as he watched the four ponies sit and talk the two intelligence agents while Prince Blood watched them disapprovingly and Tenniel filmed them.

“Can you show us this portal?” he finally said.

Princess Sparkle looked over at him. “Why, certainly.” She looked over at Miss Arrow, who stepped back into the hall for a moment. No doubt to pass the word so nobody . . . no pony . . . was caught unawares, Castor figured.

“Come along girls,” she said, transforming back to human. “You, too, Blueblood.”

With the heartfelt sigh of someone from whom much has been demanded and no recognition given for his efforts, the man stood and waited patiently, leaning ever so slightly on his cane. His expression of boredom seemed to be his default expression. He hadn’t smiled or done anything else except frown and roll his eyes the entire time Castor had been watching today.

The Princess stepped past them and out the door held open by Miss Arrow. The other aliens followed her. The humans came last. Tenniel said, “Could you give me a moment to drop off the exposed film cartridges and pick up new?”

“Hurry,” instructed the Colonel.

The man almost ran to the car and popped open the back door to rummage in a bag inside. The Equestians, stopped and watched intently. He looked up at them and asked, “Uh, you don’t mind if someone picks these up and develops the film?” He held up a small bag.

The Princess shook her head.

“Thanks,” he said with a broad smile. He shoved more film cartridges into his pockets, then set the bag on top of the car and closed the door. “They’ll be waiting back at both your offices,” he half-whispered to the two M.I. agents as they caught up with him.

Searle was amazed at how much the path across the street changed in a few short meters. Abruptly there was a wooden deck, barely ankle high above the dirt and with waist-high railings, but looking as if it had been there for years. The deck had the most complete camouflaging coat he had ever seen. Only when you were within couple of feet did you even notice it. If he hadn’t seen the aliens stepping up onto it, he might even have tripped on it. The man and woman standing to either side of the deck as they passed showed him he hadn’t been imaging things yesterday when he thought he had seen someone.

He knew they were close when they entered a depression and the trees spread out a bit as grass carpeted the ground instead of the normal forest debris. He doubted even the most sophisticated examination of a high-altitude picture of the area would reveal anything different from the rest of the forest. Thermal imaging should find the decking, though, as it was certainly a different temperature from the ground. Especially as wood cooled off at a different rate than the forest floor in the night.

The tent, when it came into sight, was large, expedition-sized, and blended in perfectly with the forest. It was easily six by ten meters. He saw that several trees went straight through its roof. He wondered how they had managed to do that without destroying the roof lines. Or having any cuts or zippers through the fabric that he could see.

Standing to either side of the tent’s entrance was another set of guards watching them closely as they approached. Castor took several long looks at the surrounding area. He made sure to point out to the Colonel the, no-doubt, artificially placed blockades that protected the tent from all approaches except this one.

The inside had a wooden deck floor, a continuation and expansion of the decking from outside. The front half was a single open area of about six-by-five meters, with a table to either side. The roof of the tent was translucent, making the inside of the tent extremely well-lit. There were a dozen men and women standing at attention beside the tables, watching them. Oddly, there seemed to be three times as many women as men.

He heard Princess Sparkle sigh. She said, “At ease.” The soldiers relaxed only slightly, keeping their eyes on the humans. There were no weapons of any kind in sight.

Dividing the tent in half was a cloth wall with three canvas door-flaps spaced equidistant across it.

Princess Sparkle turned to them. “This is only temporary until we get the ambassadorial papers, then we’ll start building a more permanent facility.” She pointed at the middle door-flap. “That leads to the portal itself.” She pointed to the right, “That one leads to the male’s changing room.” She pointed to the other. “And that leads to the female changing room.”

She stopped and looked at them. “We are ponies. We don’t normally wear clothes except as decoration. When we go through the portal, it changes us to our normal selves. Which means, if we’re wearing clothes as people and go through it, the clothes would get dirty, mussed, and ripped up on the other side because of our smaller size as we tried to move around in them. Not to mention the trouble to take them off and put them back on without the assistance of hands. And trying to wear the clothes for this side on the other before coming through? We have the same problems. So we come through and then get dressed. Thus, the changing rooms.”

She looked at her friends. “Dash? Would you like to demonstrate?”

The young woman darted through the wrong door, causing the Princess to sigh. She went to open the centre flap, but one of the soldiers hurriedly ran over and opened it for her. She rolled her eyes, and waved the men forward.

The hallway was about a meter-and-a-half wide, he saw as they entered it. The Princess followed behind them. The end of the hallway was blocked by the tree, which had a small sign suspended against it and hanging from the hallway walls.

Halfway down the hallway, he could see two more door-flaps, one on either side.

Lady Dash came through the one on the right. She waved at them, then turned and jauntily walked straight into the tree. And disappeared.

۸- ̰ -۸

40 — The Naked Truth

Castor wasn’t sure which surprised them more, that Lady Dash had apparently walked into a tree and disappeared, that she had been completely nude and didn’t seem to care, or the wonderfully intricate and colourful wings-tattoo she had on her back.

Colonel Thiessen was frowning, thinking. “Can one of us go through? Take a quick look on the other side?” He clearly wanted to eliminate the possibility that it was all some sort of stage-magician’s trick.

Princess Sparkle looked uncertain. “I’m not sure that is wise,” she said slowly. “We’ve only had two people go through the portal, so far. One, Mr. Yueshi, went through without any changes whatsoever. The other was changed to a pony, which he found to be a very traumatic experience.

“He’s fine, though,” she added quickly when she realized what that sounded like. “It was just such a surprise, and he didn’t know how to walk without falling down all the time.” She thought a moment longer, then said, “Would it be alright if Mr. Yueshi took a couple of your cameras through and took pictures for you?” she said, hopefully.

Mr. Carroll stepped forward. “I would be willing to take the risk. I went through military training when I was younger. If it is unpleasant, I’m sure I can handle it. And if it isn’t, well, no harm done, right?”

Castor was impressed that the man’s voice was steady. Stepping onto a different world was . . . daunting.

She pressed her lips together tightly, thinking. She sighed and shook her head.

“Mr. Yueshi?” she called out.

“Yes, Your Highness?” He stepped into the hallway.

She closed her eyes in exasperation, then glared at him. “Would you please accompany Mr. Carroll? Perhaps take along a camera to get some pictures for them?”

“I would be delighted, Your Highness.”

She huffed in annoyance at his continued use of her title as he went over to Mr. Tenniel and they had a quick discussion over which cameras he would take.

While they were busy, Princess Sparkle called out again, “Emerald Arrow? Would you have somepony pop through the portal to warn everypony that Mr. Yueshi and another human are coming through, and that the new human might transform?”

The Princess looked at the humans. “We’re keeping a close watch on the portal and I wouldn’t want any of you to get hurt because somepony was startled.”

One of the men from the tent’s front-room hurried in. As he reached the Princess, she grabbed his arm and whispered something to him. He quickly walked down the hall and through the tree.

“We’re ready, Your Highness.” He had the video camera, running, in his hand, with a new tape in place in case the portal ruined the camera, and a 35mm camera, also with a new roll of film.

“Right,” she said a bit sharply. “Make sure you read the sign on the tree.”

He nodded and tilted his head at Mr. Carroll. They started walking towards the tree.

“Just relax,” Yueshi said to the M.I. agent. “It’s perfectly safe. Pretend you’re stepping through a curtain. As Her Highness said, read the sign. I’ll go first.” He disappeared through the portal without pausing.

The agent hesitated, then squared his shoulders and disappeared as he stepped forward.

۸- ̰ -۸

It had been at least ten minutes since the two had disappeared through the portal, and they were starting to get worried. Even the Princess seemed a bit concerned at the long delay.

“If something had gone wrong, they would have been back almost immediately,” she had reassured them after the first three minutes. “They’re probably just taking a good look around and taking pictures for you.”

But, now, she turned to her friends outside the hall. “Rarity?” she said, not quite concealing the worry in her voice, “Do you think you could check on things?”

“Certainly, Twi,” the addressed woman said.

Castor heard the door flap on the left side rustle as she went into the changing room. However, before she could come out in the hall, their tardy humans came stumbling back through the portal. Or, rather, Mr. Carroll stumbled back through. Lady Dash was right behind him, his clothes held in her arms. She was laughing hysterically. Mr. Yueshi followed her, shaking his head. Finally, lastly, the other guard came through carrying his clothes. He ducked into the men’s changing room.

Mr. Carroll held to the railing with a solid grip as he stared at them. “I flew,” he said breathlessly. “I became a pony and flew!”

“You shoulda seen him,” crowed Lady Dash. “He crashed every time he got more’n head height off the ground! The littlest foal could fly rings around him.” She returned to laughing, tears coming from her eyes.

Mr. Carroll just stared at them, “I was a pony, and I flew!” He said, incredulously.

Mr. Yueshi, on the other hand, was just shaking his head sadly. He walked over and handed the cameras to Mr. Tenniel. “I shot the entire roll in this camera,” he held out the 35mm. “And kept the video camera running the entire time,” he said dryly. “Hopefully, the portal didn’t ruin the recording or film.”

He looked over at Lady Twilight. “Some people get all the luck,” he said, clearly wishing he could have transformed, as well.

She nodded. “So, Colonel Jayson Thiessen, will that be enough?”

He returned her nod, staring at the M.I. agent who was slowly getting himself back under control and realizing he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Lady Dash, still giggling, shoved the man’s clothes into his arms and said, “Hey, Twi, are we done here? I need to go kick some clouds or Ponyville is going to have some nasty weather tonight.”

“Oh, sure, Dash. See you later.”

The nude woman turned and took a short running leap through the portal.

For Royalty and nobles, these young . . . ponies? . . . were more than a little rough around the edges. The only one that came close to the image of a noble was Prince Blood. Was it the difference between those born into nobility and those who were not? Or was this just something natural for them? The difference between males and females?

The humans followed the Equestrians as they headed back to the house. When they reached the vehicles, the Colonel stopped and said, “I will make sure that your request for an embassy is taken to the highest authorities possible, as quickly as possible. In the meantime, if there is anything I can do to assist you, please contact me.” He held out his business card to the Princess.

“Thank you for your assistance,” she said. “If you have any questions, please give me a call. I believe Detective Inspector Searle has our number here.” She gave Castor a quick smile.

He nodded. “Yes, I remember it.”

The Princess, followed by the rest of her entourage, went inside the house. Miss Arrow stopped on the front porch and watched them.

“All right, gentlemen. I think we should head to Thames House to debrief and inform your superiors of what we’ve discovered. Sergeant Searle, you’ll come with us. Just leave your keys on the driver’s side floor and someone will return it to Guildford for you.

“And let’s see that video from the other side before we go anywhere.”

To say the video was astonishing was an understatement. To see the M.I. agent floundering around in his suddenly wrongly proportioned clothes was both amusing and scary. To see him flap his wings once he was out of the clothes and actually lift off the ground was amazing. Watching Lady Dash flying circles around him while coaxing him to fly was . . . simply indescribable. There could be no doubt that the portal was real, that there really was another world on the other side of that tree.

They had really, truly, been contacted by an alien race from another planet. The implications were as terrifying as they were amazing. Man was not alone in the universe. That would rock every religion on Earth. That they were miniature talking ponies merely added to the surreal atmosphere of the situation.

Mankind was not unique.

The park-like atmosphere around the tree, with its spiralling deck, and the massive stone walls a short distance away were puzzling. It all looked as if it had been there for years, yet the Princess had told Castor that they had only known the portal’s location for a month.

After the tape finished, Mr. Carroll took the wheel and started them back to London. Castor spent most of the drive recounting what he had learned from talking with the Princess. They were not pleased to hear the Equestrians had already taken over six thousand books on culture, science, technology, and history through the portal. Mr. Dodgson, the Security Service agent — M.I.5 — was already making plans to visit the Little Whinging bookstore to see exactly how much human knowledge had been plundered. And where they might expect the Equestrians to have difficulties understanding. And what they knew that the government wished they did not.

“Well, Sergeant Searle,” Colonel Thiessen said, “at the moment, you have the most information on these Equestrians, based on what you’ve said. And this Princess Sparkle seems to like you.”

Castor looked at the Colonel in growing horror.

The Colonel sighed. “I may not be in the chain of command anymore, but it looks like you’re going to be reactivated until this is sorted,” he said sympathetically.

Oh Bloody Hell! Castor had just known he was going to get the short end of the stick! His wife would not be amused that he was once more in the Sport and Social.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Staff Sergeant Castor Searle — at least they had had the decency to increase his rank when they reactivated him — sat at the board-room table and tried not to fidget. Under normal circumstances that wouldn’t be a problem. In the Special Air Service one quickly developed nerves of steel.

However, it was the brass in the room that made him nervous. Not a harrowing mission deep in enemy territory after a ludicrously dangerous High Altitude Low Opening parachute jump. It was the final Chinese Curse of Life — “May people in high places recognize you.” You couldn’t get much higher than the Prime Minister. Well, at least things couldn’t get any worse.

He was at the far end of the table. Beside him, to his left, sat Colonel Jayson Thiessen, Retired — retired for the moment, at least. Heading up the table was the head of the Sport and Special, Director Special Forces Brigadier Jeremy Phipps. Then came Head of Army, Field Marshal Sir John Lyon Chapple; M.I.5 agent, Lewis Carroll; and Director General of M.I.5, Sir Patrick Jeremy Walker. Last, and closest to the empty chair at the end of the table, was the Home Secretary, The Rt. Hon. Kenneth Wilfred Baker, Baron Baker of Dorking — whose Brylcreem slathered hair really did shine in the room’s light, reinforcing the slug-like image chosen for him by that satirical program, Spitting Image.

Across from the Home Secretary was the Foreign Secretary, The Rt. Hon. Douglas Hurd. To his left were the Director General of M.I.6, Sir Colin Hugh Verel McColl, and M.I.6 agents Charles Dodgson and John Tenniel.

The two Secretaries were frowning as they, once more, went through the stack of photographs taken by Tenniel and the hardcopy reports from the debriefing that had taken the rest of Saturday. The Head of Army had his own, much smaller stack of photos, at which he was scowling heavily. He was clearly unhappy that the high-altitude photos taken of Little Whinging, with special attention to the area beside the playpark, showed almost nothing of interest. As Castor had suspected, the ponies’ camouflage was excellent. There was nothing to indicate the presence of either the tent or the walkway. They had even, somehow, managed to seamlessly blend the thermal signatures of everything to match the surrounding forest. Neither ultra-violet nor infra-red had discovered anything unusual. Not even the bodies of the guards they knew were positioned around the area were showing up.

Whatever the ponies were using, he knew the Army scientists would be salivating to get their hands on it.

The door to the room suddenly flew open and the Prime Minister, John Major, walked in.

They all stood.

“All right,” he said, clearly irritated, “What’s the emergency that required getting me out of bed at two in the morning?” He glanced at the thick folder placed on the table as he sat in the chair at the head of the table. There was a television and video tape recorder on a nearby stand, positioned for his easy viewing.

“Prime Minister,” said the Home Secretary without preamble, “Aliens have contacted us and requested permission to establish an Embassy in the town of Little Whinging, Surrey.”

Major stared at him, one eyebrow slowly rising. “Aliens,” he said flatly, staring at Baron Baker. “Aliens . . . as in little green men from Mars with flying saucers?” he said incredulously. “Are you having me on!?” He was on the verge of becoming very angry.

Baker met his gaze unflinchingly. “Some are green, without a doubt. But not little men. And not from Mars. No flying saucers. But, definitely, beyond the shadow of a doubt, not from this planet, nor any other in our solar system.” He nodded at the folder on the table. “They showed our agents, Dodgson, Tenniel, and Carroll, a portal, a gateway, if you choose, to their world.” He indicated the three. “Mr. Carroll actually went through it and their solicitor took the pictures you see of the other side. They claim they discovered the portal by accident.”

Major sighed heavily and looked at the folder on the table. Slowly he reached over and opened it.

The top photo, a magnificent colour A4, was of Princess Twilight Sparkle, Colonel Thiessen, Sergeant Searle, and agents Carroll and Dodgson. The Princess was standing proudly with her head up high, a solemn expression, and wings spread wide in front of the humans. Hovering behind and slightly above them was Rainbow Dash with what Castor called a shit-eating grin on her face. That the Princess’ head was barely waist-high merely added to the surrealism of the image.

“Oh, come on,” the Prime Minister said, rolling his eyes. “Purple and blue flying horses? Are you all daft? This looks like something my daughter Elizabeth would come up with.”

“We have video, as well, Prime Minister, shot by agent Tenniel.”

Major started flicking through the remaining photos. Seeing the before and after photos of the ponies as humans brought another exclamation. “Really?”

He spent some time studying the photos from the other side of the portal, lingering on the ones showing flying ponies and unicorns in the background. And the armour they wore.

Then they started the recorded tape.

After one last look through it, he slammed the folder shut and stared at each of them around the table. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

“How f*cked are we?”

The Home Secretary nodded. “Not bad, at all, actually.” He glanced at the two agents and ex-S.A.S. soldiers. He began ticking things off on his fingers. “The bad news is that they’ve been here for three weeks, since July 25th. They’ve hired an intelligent, competent solicitor. They’ve purchased over six thousand books — they converted substantial amounts of gold and gems for pounds through local dealers and Barclays Bank, handled by the solicitor. With a few exceptions, they’ve purchased all the properties within half-a-kilometre around the portal in Little Whinging, again handled by their solicitor. The portal is completely within their control. And, as the photos showed, they can pass as humans whenever they want. Except for their outrageous hair colour.” He sighed. “Which any semi-competent hairdresser could fix. And, finally, we cannot detect their portal or any of the . . . ponies . . . that we know are guarding it with any of our surveillance tools.”

He paused and looked around the room.

“The good news is, the portal appears to only allow one person at a time through it, so no serious invasion force is possible. Their apparent military capability is still bows and arrows — they claim they’ve been at peace for a thousand years. They want to establish friendly relations. They have on deposit at the Barclays Bank a little over one million pounds in gold ingots and another twelve million in gems. That is after their expenditures for the properties, which total around five million pounds according to the conveyance deed reports on file. However, Inland Revenue reports that over eight million pounds actually changed hands.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “They used very clever, and legal, manoeuvring to avoid inflating the property values while still paying above market prices for the properties to induce the homeowners to sell quickly. They scrupulously followed reporting laws and rules. A clever solicitor, indeed.” He paused a second.

“They claim their medicine is far in advance of ours and that they have cures for cancer and can regrow lost limbs — solutions they are willing to share. They similarly claim to have complete weather control. And, we know the general area of the portal to within about a meter.

“And they want to establish an embassy so that we can begin to exchange technology and trade.”

John Major stared at the Home Secretary. “Bows and arrows, regrow lost limbs, and complete control of the weather?” He looked down at the file. “I think I would give up nuclear weapons for those last two items.”

“Of course, Prime Minister, we can’t prove any of those claims, this is all what they have told us. All we can say for sure is that the ponies Agent Carroll saw when he went through the portal were all carrying either spears or crossbows. For all we know, it could be rubbish.”

Major nodded. “On the other hand,” he said. “They could have stayed hidden for who knows how long before someone noticed.” He looked up. “And you say they came to us?”

“Yes, Prime Minister. Apparently, a bobby in Little Whining noticed something off about the sudden increase in vacancies in the neighbourhood and brought it to Detective Inspector Searle.” He indicated Castor. “On Friday afternoon, D.I. Searle dropped by the Wisteria Estate for a look. He noticed one house still seemed to be occupied. He went up and introduced himself, and explained that the police would be regularly patrolling to limit vandalism.

“D.I. Searle returned to the estate later that day and took a drive through. The person he had met that afternoon flagged him down and suggested he come back for tea on Saturday, at ten, to meet someone important.

“He contacted Colonel Thiessen, retired, that night. They initially thought they were dealing with a rogue iron-curtain big-wig fleeing the situation over there and asking for asylum, or some such nonsense.

“When he met the aliens yesterday at ten, they all looked like normal people except for the outrageous hair colours. The purple one in the first photo was introduced as Princess Twilight Sparkle, and then they introduced a Prince Blue Blood, who later claimed to be their Royally appointed Ambassador to England. They explained that their solicitor had already tried to contact the Foreign Office about presenting ambassadorial papers and been rebuffed. They were mulling over whether or not to just appear in front of Buckingham Palace as ponies and ask to speak to the Queen.”

They all shuddered. The media would have gone ballistic! Castor could just see the headlines: Aliens Arrive! Or, Take Me To Your Leader! Or possibly even, PLUSHIE PONIES INVADE!” With the appropriate pictures.

The Foreign Secretary, Hurd, interrupted. “I think we can all see just how much of a circus that would have turned into.”

“However,” Baker continued, “Thank God, Detective Inspector Searle’s appearance at their door suggested a possible alternative, hence the invitation.

“With the ponies ‘unveiling’ themselves and asking D.I. Searle for help, he called the Colonel, who contacted some of his associates still in the government. He brought these two agents, Lewis Carroll and Charles Dodgson,” he pointed them out, “and an agency photographer, John Tenniel to the meeting. They took pictures and saw the evidence themselves. Including taking a look at another world. And that gets us to now.”

Major sat and thought for a moment. He shuffled through the photos one more time.

“What are our options?” He looked at the Home Secretary.

Baker waggled his head side-to-side. “Well, they own the property around the portal through a completely legal company, Royal Equestrian Properties, Limited, set up by their solicitor. So, any actions we might take to negate that would receive stiff resistance in Parliament, especially regarding a group not on any terrorist list, regardless of where they came from. The same goes for simply seizing the land as a matter of National Security.

“We could do it. And make either one stick. I doubt they’d be able to stop us, but I’m not sure that alienating these . . . ,” he paused and sighed, “aliens would be a wise move. Especially when we can’t show any reason why we should be so hostile. And the Opposition in Parliament would have a field day with our ‘unprovoked belligerence towards a potentially very powerful ally.’

“And it would really throw a spanner in the works if we did seize the portal area on the grounds they didn’t come straight to us when they first got here, and then their solicitor was able to show that they had tried to tell us and nobody believed them.” He shook his head. “I don’t see how we could come out of this without looking like flipping idiots if we do anything that might remotely be considered as hostile by the public.”

“And let’s not forget that the other nations in the world might take exception to us seizing the portal for ourselves,” put in the Foreign Secretary dryly. “It might be better to leave it in the hands of these . . . Equestrians? . . . .” He looked at the M.I.6 agent to his left for confirmation, and received a nod in return. “And if people found out that we had chased away aliens who had a cure for cancer and could regrow lost limbs? For no reason except a vague cry of ‘National Security,’ because they scare us? All of us would be sacked in a week.” He paused. “We’d be lucky if they didn’t borrow guillotines from the French.”

“We could object on the grounds that the section containing the portal is farmland in Green Space,” continued Baker, “but that would merely preclude the building of any sort of enclosure around the portal. They would still legally own the land. And forcing that issue would leave the portal where anyone could easily access it.

“Unless we put a military cordon around it, which people would see as us seizing the portal.”

He looked at the Prime Minister. “I think we have to grant them their embassy on that land, and allow them to enclose it in a wall of some kind, at least, just to prevent . . . mischief on the part of some of our citizens.”

“And let us not forget,” said Hurd, “that this sets a precedent on future alien contacts, and how people will expect us to react.” He looked around the table. “Now that we know such things are possible, our scientists are going to go full-bore into making a portal. And if we do, and we go to another world, and they immediately attack us? How hypocritical would it be of us to then complain about it when we did the exact same thing! Not to mention that if we demand full access to the Equestrian portal, then any world we access with a portal of our own will make similar demands of us. And again, how can we refuse, when we did the same bloody thing?”

There was a moment of silence, then Field Marshal Sir John Chapple spoke up. “There’s something else to consider in this. They look like cute, adorable plush toys that would make any little girl squeal with joy. However, it has been my experience that the most brightly coloured animals in the jungle are frequently the most lethal — either venomous, toxic, or just plain deadly. They are herbivories, they are prey animals, they even admit that they are not predators. And that they understand the distinction suggests there are predators in their world. Yet, here they are in neon-bright colours you should be able to see from orbit.

“If their world is anything like ours — and the park in those pictures wouldn’t be out of place in London, which suggest that it is — such brightly-coloured prey should have been wiped out in favour of their dull-coated brethren that blend in with the terrain. That they are, instead, the largest and most powerful country on their world, and none challenge them? Well, that worries me. What do they have, that we know nothing about, that lets them thrive in this manner?

“And we only have their word that they found this portal by accident. Now that they know it exists and where it goes, who is to say that they can’t create a second one somewhere else? If we were in their position and someone seized the other end of our portal, wouldn’t we just set about making another, and make arrangements with someone else more hospitable? And tell the first portal’s owners to go piss up a rope — and then close it?” He shook his head.

Hesitantly, Castor cleared his throat. “Actually,” he said, “This is their third portal. This one, Princess Sparkle said, was found by accident — they don’t know how or when it was created. However they have another that was purposely made about a thousand years ago by someone named Starswirl the Bearded, but it opens for use only once every thirty months, and then only for three days. They don’t use it because there’s a time differential between the worlds. Time in this other world runs slower. That is, for every four years that pass in the pony world, one passes in this other world. Which makes it difficult to use the portal in any practical manner.”

“Starswirl made a second portal which led to a second world. The Princess told me that the ponies had such a bad experience there that it put them off on the portals for almost a thousand years. The ponies literally put them in a dungeon room and locked them away! The discovery of this third portal, found entirely by accident, had them decide to try once more.”

They stared at him incredulously. The information was, no doubt, somewhere in the debriefing papers, but it hadn’t been highlighted as anything of particular importance.

“So, they can make additional portals, should they so desire,” The Field Marshal continued. He looked up at the Prime Minister. “We should give them their embassy and ensure that none of our enemies, or friends, ever manage to convince them to move it. Or for them to open a second Embassy anywhere else. At the same time, we should do everything we can to ensure they don’t take us by surprise. Offer them all the assistance they want just so we can keep a close eye on them.”

There was silence as they considered his points.

The Director General of M.I. 5 said, “And discreetly move military units into position around Little Whinging — in case things go pear-shaped — as well as beefing up police units in Surrey so we’re prepared when the newspapers find out and people start swarming around the area. Blackbushe Airport is less than ten kilometres away, we could put an air unit there without trouble, response time would be about five minutes. There are a few other nearby former RAF bases in civie hands that we could shoe-horn a unit or two into, as well.

“And we’ll start vetting the local’s about a Top Secret facility being built in Little Whinging. Maybe encourage them to look the other way if they notice anything a bit cock-eyed. Or, better yet, give us a ring and make sure we know what’s what. We might see about acquiring a bit of land in the area, ourselves, as well.”

The Director General of M.I. 6 added, “I’ll warn our agents in the field and in the Embassies to be on the watch for any mentions of ‘aliens’ being in England from their contacts. And to deflect any inquiries on the matter. Perhaps play up that the conservatives are worried about immigrants. That sort of thing.”

The discussions continued until well past dawn.

۸- ̰ -۸

42 — Completely Exposed

Castor stared at them. This was the closest he had ever come to out-right fainting. Magic. Was. Real.

He vaguely noticed a woman whispering to Miss Arrow.

“Excuse me, Your Highness, but three . . . men are coming up the street.” She lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head towards the stairs. She mouthed a word that he missed.

The Princess sat upright, and the others exchanged alarmed looks.

Mr. Yueshi walked over to him and said, “I think you need another stiff drink. I have a bottle of brandy in the kitchen.” He helped the dazed man to his feet.

“Magic?” Castor said wonderingly as they left the sitting-room.

They had no sooner entered the kitchen than he heard someone knock at the front door. Mr. Yueshi guided him out the back door, grabbing a bottle from a cabinet in the kitchen as they passed, as well as two glasses. The solicitor closed the kitchen door. They settled on chairs at a patio table. He poured them both a rather large helping in each glass.

“They call it ‘magic,’” Mr. Yueshi said. “But I think it might better be called telekinesis, the ability to move and manipulate matter with your mind. And they do not have telepathy — mind-to-mind communication — so you needn’t worry that they can read your deepest darkest secrets. Nor make you do things or forget things you have seen or done.”

“Telekinesis?”

The solicitor nodded.

Castor sat, thinking, sipping his drink.

۸- ̰ -۸

Emerald Arrow escorted three wizards into the room. “Twilight,” she said, “These men are asking if there is a Hogwarts’ student here.”

Twilight smiled a bit nervously. “I am Twilight Sparkle,” she said, introducing herself. “And there are actually four students who live here who will be attending Hogwarts come September First. However, none of them are here at the moment, they are all over at the Weasley residence. Arthur Weasley. You might know him? He works at the Ministry?”

The three exchanged glances.

“Yes, I know of him. He’s the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office,” said the lead wizard. He sighed. “I’m Arnold Peasegood, this is Koios Pamiec and Làidir Cuimhne,” he pointed to them as he spoke. “We’re here because we picked up magic in use. And this is a muggle neighbourhood.”

Twilight nodded. “Oh, yes, that would be me.” Her teacup floated off the table to her hand.

“And me,” added Blueblood, his teacup copying hers in action. As did Rarity’s.

A moment later, each of the Equestrians had a tea cup floating in front of them. Pinkie Pie was going cross-eyed looking at hers.

The three wizards stared at them. Finally, Peasegood said, “And your wands?”

“Oh,” said Twilight brightly, “I have a wand!” her wand floated out of her bag on the floor.

Both Blueblood and Rarity shook their heads. “I have no need of such a crutch,” Blueblood said in a snooty tone as he looked down his nose at them, even though they were standing and he was sitting.

After a moment’s pause, Peasegood said, “Well, thank you for your time. I’ll inform the Magical Oversight Department that this house has wizards and witches in residence and to ignore any magic from this immediate area.”

He gave Blueblood a stern look and swept it across all the people in the room. “Remember, you must not let any muggles see you doing magic! If a muggle does see something they shouldn’t, inform us immediately so that we can take appropriate obliviation action to protect the Statute of Secrecy.”

Twilight smiled, “Oh, that won’t even be an issue, Mr. Peasegood. We own all the houses you see around here. In fact, we own the one-hundred and forty acres around this house.”

He stared at her.

“Emerald Arrow,” Twilight said, “why don’t you show these gentle-wizards the boundaries of Wisteria Estate, the woods, and the farm?”

Nodding, the Guard led the three men out the front door and down the street. It was over an hour later that they made their way back to the house.

“I explained to Mr. Peasegood,” explained Emerald, “that to allay the . . . muggles’ suspicions, we told them that the vacant houses and land are scheduled to be replaced by a large international business park.”

He nodded, a bit sourly, “I suggest you put up muggle-repelling charms around the perimeter to direct the curious away, if you haven’t already. In the meantime, I’ve marked the edges of your holdings so that my office, as well as the Magical Oversight Department, will ignore any magic inside that area. And, as I said before, don’t let any muggles see you using magic, and if a muggle does, inform us immediately.”

Twilight nodded agreeably. “We will be sure to inform you should anyone accidentally see us casting magic. And we will see about putting up those charms.”

The wizard sighed and signalled his compatriots that they were leaving. “Well, as I said, sorry we bothered you. We’ll be going now.” He turned to leave.

“Would you like to use our Floo?” Twilight asked.

Startled, the three wizards looked back at her. She pointed to the fireplace, and the Floo-powder pot.

Mr. Peasegood smiled. “Why, thank you,” he said. “That will make the return to the office a bit quicker.”

And knowing they were on the Floo-network made Twilight wonder why that office hadn’t informed Mr. Peasegood of the presence of wizards and witches in this location. Was the ministry truly that incompetent? Or was this merely an example of something falling through the inevitable cracks in communication that bedevilled every government?

After they left, Emerald explained, “It was a bit unusual. As soon as we reached the end of the street, they pulled out shrunken brooms and expanded them. I rode behind Mr. Peasegood, and we actually flew around Wisteria Estate and the farmland purchased. He cast a spell he called ‘disillusionment’ so that no one could see us.” She paused. “It was a rather unique experience for a unicorn. Perhaps we should see about adopting their use while we are on this side.”

The ministry now knew exactly where they were. Twilight wondered how long it would take for them to realize that “here” was where the rumoured Atlanteans were living?

۸- ̰ -۸

Wednesday, four cars pulled to a stop in front of number Eleven Magnolia Road. The lead vehicle was a standard Little Whinging police car, the next three were, clearly to Castor, unmarked government Landrovers, a Jaguar sandwiched between two Landrovers. Three well-dressed men jumped out of each of the Landrovers. Four took up positions at each corner of the Jaguar while the other two moved to the front and rear of the lead and rear Landrovers, respectively. From the passenger-side front seat of the Jaguar another man stepped out and opened the back door.

A distinguished-looking man with slightly greying hair and wearing dark-rimmed glasses climbed-out. He straightened his suit slightly as he glanced around at the nearby houses. He saw that each house had a woman or man standing at the nearest corner, all well-dressed. Each nodded to him as he glanced in their direction. His lips compressed slightly as he saw them. Behind him, another grey-haired man exited the car.

The three men started up the pavement to the front door where Miss Arrow and Castor were waiting.

“Thank you for coming, Prime Minister, Deputy Prime Minister,” Castor said, nodding to both. “I realize this is a disruption of your schedules, but as I told you yesterday, it really is important.” He took a breath, adding softly, “Perhaps the most important meeting of our lives.” He turned to the M.I. 5 agent. “If you’ll wait here, please?”

The man looked at the Prime Minister, who nodded. He sighed and took a position to the side of the door.

Miss Arrow opened the door and stepped inside. Castor led the men into the sitting-room. Both newcomers stopped and stared at the room that was much larger than it had any right to be. They both turned and looked at the front door at the end of the short hallway in which they still stood, and then back into the expansive sitting-room. The exterior wall and front windows were clearly farther away than the front door in the entry way, which should have been impossible. The windows gave a good view of the front yard and the houses across the street. However, while the windows from the outside had looked to be of normal size, in here they were huge, taller than the people in the room and clearly a good five meters wide — wider than the entire wall when seen from the outside street.

The room, which shouldn’t have been more than four by five meters in size was easily seven by nine meters, with a ceiling that towered a good six meters above them. They looked back at the staircase beside the hallway that went no higher than three meters. The sitting-room’s ceiling was higher than the house’s roof.

Castor leaned a bit closer to the two men and said, “Yeah, it’s real, you aren’t imagining things. I checked it three times, myself, this morning, when I first got here. The room is almost as large as the entire house without changing the sizes of any of the other rooms. And, from the outside, it looks no different than the other houses on the street.”

A series of armchairs were placed around the room, each with a small table beside it. There was more than enough room to accommodate the large number of people gathered there. Eleven people in a siting-room for a house of this size should have felt crowded. In this room, however, there was plenty of room for triple that number.

Six of the people were already seated. The seventh was the solicitor and he was standing near the newcomers. Lady Dash was lazily flapping her wings, holding station over the middle of the room, almost at the ceiling, and snickering at the gobsmacked expressions of the two officials.

“Your Highnesses, Ladies,” Castor started, “I would like to introduce the Right Honourable John Major, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, and Mr. Michael Heseltine, Deputy Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.”

“Gentlemen, I would like to present Princess Twilight Sparkle . . . ,” and then he introduced everyone present.

Almost as soon as the introductions were over, Princess Sparkle said, “Would you like some tea before we get down to business?”

Major nodded jerkily, saying, “Yes. Yes, please,” with his Deputy following suit. Both were still looking around the room, taking in the fact what they were seeing was, indeed, actual fact and not just a stage illusion of some kind.

Castor pointed out the two empty armchairs across from the Princess and Prince. As they were seating themselves, another woman came into the room with a tea service cart.

The teapot, barely large enough to hold three cups, lifted into the air, which drew their attention almost immediately, the server’s hands still on the push-bar of the serving cart. She smiled at the two men as she started filling the cups. Only when she began pouring the fourth cup did the two men begin to realize that there was more going on than just the floating teapot.

The pot settled back on the table after four cups. Cubes of sugar rose from their bowl and dropped into two of the cups, which then lifted off the table and floated through the air to the Princess and Prince. Twilight murmured a “Thank you,” as the Prince merely nodded. The cups, on their saucers, remained floating to one side of each Royal.

The server turned to the two British men and asked, “Sugar or cream?”

Both watched intently as the cubes of sugar dropped into their cups without a tong or hand touching them, and then the creamer poured a small amount into the cup for Heseltine. The cups and saucers floated over to the tables at their sides and gently set down. Four more cups and saucers floated up from the lower shelf on the cart, and she again poured them full from the same pot that shouldn’t have been able to hold more than it had already been dispensed. After serving the four Ladies, Lady Dash had refused any tea, she poured two more cups, one each for Mr. Yueshi and Castor. She then bowed to the Princess and Prince and left the room, leaving the serving cart to one side.

For a few minutes no words were spoken as they took their tea. Princess Sparkle had told Castor in advance that she would wait for a short while to give the two men a chance to regain their equilibrium.

She took a final sip, put her cup back on the saucer, and floated both down to the small table beside her chair. She cleared her throat to get the attention of the two men. “As Castor told you, Prime Minister, what we have to tell you is very important.

She smiled happily. “First, I want to thank you for allowing us to establish an embassy, and to place our chancery in Little Whinging,” she said sincerely.

Prince Blood nodded his head in acknowledgement, murmuring softly, “Yes, thank you.” The Princess gave him an exasperated look, but said nothing to him.

“We have already established a protective perimeter wall around the portal, itself, and begun clearing the forest debris from the site,” she continued. “Our architects have already started adapting our chancery plans to fit your building codes, and we will begin approaching the architects you provided about building the compound later today.”

The Prime Minister nodded to her, “It was my pleasure. I’m sure both worlds will benefit from having your embassy here, in the United Kingdom.” He glanced over at Castor. “I’m sure Detective Inspector Searle will be happy to act as your guide in London.”

Castor nodded agreeably. It was his job, after all.

Prince Blood smirked and murmured, “Better an Embassy here than in a country you aren’t on good terms with, I’m sure.” He paused. “Or even on good terms.” He quirked an eyebrow, “Correct?”

The Princess gave the Prince another stern look, which he ignored, and then huffed. She turned back to John Major. “Castor told us of your desire to establish an embassy in our world, which we would like to see happen, ourselves. However, there are things you do not know that make that a difficult proposition.” Lady Dash gave an impressive yawn and drifted over their heads to the windows. Lady Rarity and the Prince both gave her disapproving looks.

“As your agents no doubt informed you, the portal is responsible for our appearing to you as people instead of ponies. It took us a bit over two weeks to figure out how to reverse that at will.” She gestured at Lady Dash, who was now sitting upright with her hooves crossed, slowly flapping her wings and looking at the cars in the street, and the men positioned around them. More than one were staring back at her.

Seeing everything you thought you knew about flight binned was more than a little disconcerting.

“And it works in the reverse for someone from this world going over to ours, as your agent, Mr. Carroll, demonstrated.” She frowned. “That forms part of the problem. In pony form, your people are at the functional level of a foal, a child, even though they have an adult pony’s body. Talking, thank Celestia, is not an issue.” She sighed.

“Intellectually, you are unchanged, but you must learn how to walk all over again. Based on experience, it will take several weeks before you master that skill enough to move around without tripping or falling down when just walking or going up and down stairs. Complicating that, of course, is that while you are learning, you will be subconsciously expecting things to be the same as how you walk here, which won’t work well because you’re a quadruped. Your ingrained reflexes will actually work against you.

“And for those that are fortunate enough to gain wings, you must also learn how to fly — a skill that takes years to truly master.” She looked away for a moment, “As I have discovered.”

“Experience?” the Prime Minister said before she could continue.

The Princess blushed slightly. “Yes. While I told Castor,” she nodded in his direction, “that we ‘found’ the portal only recently, we have actually known of its existence for about fifteen months. We just didn’t know exactly where it was.”

The men sat still a moment, considering that.

She smiled wryly. “You see, someone came through the portal into our Everfree Forest from your world a year ago in the spring. They travelled through it about half-a-kilometer before collapsing at the edge of AJ’s family orchard.” She nodded over to Lady Jack. “They had been viciously beaten, and when we found them we rushed them to the local hospital. While they recovered, Guards followed their trail in the Everfree forest. Unfortunately, while that led them to the general area, there is a trick to using the portal that they did not know, preventing them from immediately finding it. I, myself, searched for it quite diligently, several times, without success.” She shook her head, chagrined. “And I am sort of an expert in finding hidden things.”

“This person, when they had recovered enough, declared they did not remember where the portal was, and, in fact, had not realized they had even transformed until they woke in the hospital.”

She frowned as she said, “That was not quite the truth, we recently discovered. They did know where the portal was, but were afraid to tell us. Their situation here was rather unpleasant and they much preferred to stay in our world for reasons I completely understand.”

She gave them another quick grin. “Which is also the reason I have not mentioned either a name or gender. They have been perfectly delightful to be around, and adapted well to our world. They now consider themselves to be Equestrians, and have been granted citizenship by the Princesses.”

The two ministers exchanged concerned looks.

Castor, on the other hand frowned. He knew of someone who was from this area and had allegedly disappeared about fifteen months ago — the Dursleys’ missing nephew. Add to that that Mr. Yueshi, the Equestrians’ solicitor, had mentioned a child being abused at the Dursleys. It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots and figure out who this mysterious “they” was — Harry Potter, a child, now eleven.

“We knew it was only a matter of time before we discovered the portal,” Princess Sparkle said, “and thus we put together a series of plans on what to do when that happened. Which included practicing how to walk as a biped.” She looked over at Lady Jack. “Would you demonstrate, AJ?”

“Shurely,” came the quick response. She stood, pulled off her dress, transformed, and started clomping about the room on her hind legs.

If they were startled that she had disrobed so nonchalantly, and that she hadn’t been wearing any underwear, the two men disguised it well.

“As you can see, it’s a bit awkward, but it worked quite well in preparing our people. Just for your information, the entire length of her leg on the floor, from hoof to hock, is the equivalent of your toe-nails-to-heel. If you were to transform into a pony you would actually be walking on your middle fingers’ and toes’ nails. I was told it takes a while to get used to that feeling.

“Through interviews with this person over the last year, we learned much of what to expect in your world, and adapted our plans on what to do if we found this missing portal, accordingly. So far, things are going much better than we had anticipated.”

“Yes,” interrupted the Prince, “One of our scenarios included a situation much like your video ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still.’” He smiled a bit grimly, “At least there aren’t tanks and guards surrounding the house.” He smirked. “At least, not obviously so, correct?” He again raised an eyebrow while looking at the three men.

They smiled back, their expressions carefully blank, but not denying the accusation.

Lady Jack hopped back up on her armchair, remaining a pony.

“And this person’s experience is why we know it will be difficult for you to adapt to walking if someone is transformed in our world.

“And then there are the problems with writing — the skill you need most when operating an embassy. While we do have a quill-holder that can be attached to a hoof, it will still take time to master using it — our transformed friend likened it to writing with the palm of the hand. The quill-holder is actually an invention of this person’s.

“Some of that can be mitigated with typewriters, of course, but it will take a few weeks of practice to master that skill with hooves.”

“However, we discovered when Mr. Yueshi went through the portal that he remained a human.

“And that is where the real problem lies.”

She paused a moment, apparently to gather her thoughts.

“We know why Mr. Yueshi did not change, and why Mr. Carroll did. What we cannot do, just yet, is accurately predict who will and who will not transform when going through the portal. I think I know of a simple solution, but it needs verification. With a dozen or so volunteers, we can easily remedy that problem.” She burst into a bright smile and wriggled slightly. “It will be so much fun doing that research, I can hardly wait.” She sighed happily and stared out the windows for a moment.

“Twilight!” Lady Rarity said sternly. The Princess gave her head a shake and turned to give both men a long look.

“The basic difference between the two men who went through the portal is one of . . . magic,” she said seriously.

Both men raised their eyebrows at this bold, to them, statement. Castor nodded when they looked at him. “That’s why I called you yesterday to arrange this meeting. This is, literally, world changing,” he said softly.

“Magic is real,” the Princess said, “both in our world and in this one. Magic is responsible for this room being bigger on the inside than outside. Magic made it possible to put fourteen cups of tea in a pot that could reasonably be expected to hold only three. Magic made it possible for us to move our cups and saucers around without touching them.” She paused, floated her cup up, and took a sip of her tea to give them time to think.

“Magic is different here than at home,” she continued. “In Equus, magic is everywhere, and it affects everything. And everything on Equus has magic in it. Even the plants. You cannot escape it, or its influence.

“Not all creatures or plants can manipulate magic, obviously, but they still have magic in them.”

She stopped and called out loudly, “Spike! You can come in now.”

All three men stared in silent amazement as a small purple and green bipedal dragon walked into the room from the kitchen.

“Finally,” he said, “I was about to fall asleep in there.”

Their jaws dropped open.

“Spike is my number one assistant!” the Princess said proudly as the Prince rolled his eyes.

“She’s my mum!” he added. “Hatched me from my egg ten years ago!” He trotted over to her and leaned against her leg as she leaned forward and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Yep, you sure are. And I couldn’t ask for a better son!” She nuzzled the dragon, then turned back to the men. “Here, magic is around, we can feel it and use it, but it is not nearly as intense and pervasive as it is at home. And few creatures here either have it or can manipulate it. So few, in fact, that in our explorations around Little Whinging we have yet to come across any creatures that naturally have or use magic. Or, at least, none that we can detect easily.

“Mr. Yueshi has no magic capability at all, thus he went through the portal unchanged. Mr. Carroll apparently does have some small amount of magic, and thus the portal changed him.” She paused. “When I scanned him after he went through the portal, I found that he had some magical talent, the ability to use magic, but not enough for it to have ever shown itself in your world, except as occasional and random ‘odd things happen around me’ situations.” She smiled. “That’s why we need volunteers. I can scan them for magic and see at what point there is a trigger level for our world’s magic to react to your world’s magic.” She wriggled happily in place. “I can hardly wait!” Then she sighed.

“The problem I alluded to is for those who do not have magic. We have no idea what the implications are for a completely non-magical being to suddenly appear in our magic-saturated world. Will this person gradually adapt and start to develop magic? Will this person suddenly, one day, transform while in our world? Will they remain the same but gradually become able to use magic like we do?

“Or will their body reject the magic around them and make them sick? Will the magic reject them and make them sick? Will the magic flow into them, trying to fill that vacant space, gradually filling them up and then not stopping? Will it pour more and more magic into them until they explode from the stored magic because they cannot do anything to expel the magic as the creatures in our world do naturally just by living and breathing? Or, having never had magic, will they become dependent on it, and thus become ill or die when they come back here, home?

“And while a few hours seem to have no effect, what about longer exposures? Will these symptoms take days, weeks, months, or years to manifest? Will symptoms occur in our world, or only after the person returns home, here? Is there a time limit, where if they return home before that limit is reached, nothing happens?

“Or will nothing at all happen?”

“We simply do . . . not . . . know. And until we can determine what will happen, we cannot, in good conscience, allow your people to come to our world unless they already have some magical capacity. And even then we need to run periodic tests to see if there are cumulative effects that might harm them.”

She leaned back in her chair. “And if we simply refused to let your people set up an embassy without any sort of explanation, we would never be able to establish the level of trust we wish to have with you. You would always wonder why we allowed so little information to flow from us to you while taking as much from you as you will allow.” She sighed. “Hence, our revelations today.” She leaned forward again.

“Complicating everything, however, are your cultural taboos regarding magic. I’ve read in your history how your religions have hunted down and killed those who you thought could do magic. Your official religion here in this country, and several others, even exhorts its followers to ‘not suffer a witch to live.’ According to the newspapers I’ve seen, there are some countries where there are ongoing witch-hunts to this day. Killing people simply because their neighbours are looking for a scapegoat for their own deficiencies. Or maybe those people really can do magic, who knows?” She shrugged. “Although any competent magic user could easily escape an unorganized mob. And in countries where they are not doing that, there are many who feel the same way. This makes us a bit nervous to proclaim that we can do magic. As well as allowing just anyone to visit our world — after all, I’ve read that you have made some of your nuclear weapons small enough to disguise as a standard briefcase.

“So, with those thoughts in mind, we require you to keep our abilities as a secret, to be divulged only to those who have a legitimate need to know. Yes, we know it will eventually come out, but we want to delay that for as long as possible — to give us a chance to establish ourselves as no one’s enemy.”

She paused and smiled. “Naturally, I don’t expect you to immediately agree. And you can, of course, completely ignore our request.” She stopped smiling. “That would, obviously, hinder our relationship quite a bit if there are antagonistic reactions from your people.”

۸-_-۸

43 — Naked Panic

Author's Note

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43 — Naked Panic

“In the meantime,” Twilight said, “as long as you are here, would you like to see a bit more of magic? Not just, as someone put it, ‘parlour tricks’?”

Both men nodded and said, “Yes, please.”

She smiled happily and picked up a small box on the table at her side. She floated it over to the Prime Minister. “Here,” she said, “take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

He took the floating item and examined it. “It looks like a small replica of a standard travel trunk.” He hefted it in his hand. “Weighs about as much as a pack of cards.” He looked at her questioningly.

She floated the ‘replica’ from his hand and placed it on the floor between them. She walked over to it and crouched. She looked to her right, at him, smirked, pressed the emblem that took up much of the top, and stepped back. There was a moment’s silence as they all just stared at the tiny trunk. Then, it abruptly started to grow larger.

All three men sat back in their chairs.

There, in front of them, was a standard travel trunk. A third of a meter tall, two-thirds of a meter wide, and a full meter long.

Lady Dash laughed at their expression. Lady Rarity said, smirking, “Makes travel much easier when you can carry all your luggage in your pocket.”

The men exchanged amazed glances. Castor knew this technique alone would revolutionize travel and shipping everywhere. Were there limits on the size of the things that could be shrunken? He imagined an entire cargo ship of goods small enough to carry aboard a plane. No more weeks or months spent at sea, or cargo lost as ships sank in storms or collisions. Near instant delivery of goods across the world. Even big lorry deliveries could be made by motorcycle, reducing traffic and fuel usage.

Except, he realized, what about weight? If the weight remained the same no one could lift the shrunken items. But the Equestrians didn’t seem bothered by that issue. And if it was a problem, they wouldn’t so casually talk of putting a trunk weighing dozens of kilograms in a pocket!

“Pick it up,” invited Lady Jack, snickering.

Cautiously, knowing there was a trick involved from the barely restrained giggling coming from Lady Dash, who had turned from the windows and was now watching them, Major stood and walked over to the trunk. He grabbed the middle handle and gingerly lifted it. It rose easily. He gave the Equestrians a disbelieving look. “It’s heavier than before!”

The Princess nodded. “Yes, it has what is known as a feather-weight charm on it that reduces its weight when it’s shrunken to pocket size. Plus, it will never weigh more than about triple what it weighs now no matter what you place in it.”

The Prime Minister frowned. “So, it’s empty?”

She grinned, “Not quite. Lay it back down and open it.”

Again, expecting a trick, he cautiously followed her instructions.

The trunk was empty.

“Watch,” she said, stepping into the trunk as Major stepped back to give her room.

As soon as she was standing in the trunk, she started to go down. The men watched, wide-eyed, as she rather quickly disappeared into the trunk. They all three moved closer and looked inside to see her waving at them as she sank into a room below them.

“Gangway,” shouted Lady Dash, diving into the trunk before the Princess reached the bottom. Startled, they all stepped back, hearing laughter coming from below them. The Prime Minister bent down and picked up the trunk by its handle, angling it so they could see that there really wasn’t a hole through the floor. He set it back down.

“When the elevator gets back up there, just step inside to join me. There’s more to show you down here,” the Princess said.

“Hurry,” cried Lady Pie from inside the trunk, “There’s cake in the kitchen.”

How had she gotten past them?

Thus began a short tour that had both ministers almost physically drooling at what this ‘alien technology’ would do for England.

That was the best way to present it to the public, the two men later decided. After all, hadn’t a British science-fiction writer once said, “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic”? And this certainly fit that description!

And Wootten later instructed Castor, “The word magic is to be stricken from your vocabulary. It is ‘Alien Technology.’ If you hear someone refer to it as magic, you are to correct them. Laugh and say, ‘Yes, it does look like that sometimes, but it’s not, it’s simply a highly-advanced alien technology.’ Or words to that effect. And the aliens’ abilities are to be called telekinesis, should anyone see them.”

But for now they were awed at the potential this one ‘technology’ could provide. Housing would no longer be a problem. Nor urban sprawl. No longer would space be a problem in London. Even the smallest efficiency flat could be a full-sized, luxurious four-bedroom home with a spacious kitchen, dining-room, lounge, sitting-room, smoking-room, and four and a half bathrooms. Not to mention the implications it had for cars and lorries — a smaller vehicle that would provide more room on the expressways, deliver better mileage because of the decrease in size and weight, and yet have more room inside for passenger comfort and cargo. If it could be integrated properly, their competition would be left wondering just what the bloody hell the British had done!

In fact, you could turn a small lorry into a mobile mansion that would put Castle Howard to shame.

Castor, on the other hand, and because of his previous career in the Sport and Social, was more concerned with the military implications — an L86 automatic rifle with grenade launcher and sighting systems reduced from ten kilograms to less than half-a-kilogram, including tiny magazines that could hold thousands of rounds and hundreds of grenades. You would never have to reload in the field, nor worry about running out of ammo in any except the most extreme cases. Your fire limit would probably be when the barrel melted — but there was probably a magical fix for that, too. And a small card-sized pack on your equipment belt that could hold weeks of rations, all the necessary toiletries, and as many changes of clothes as you could want. Or even a modest one-room cabin with fully-stocked kitchen, shower, and toilet! Even the most rugged terrain imaginable would be easily tolerable. Suddenly, military mobility sky-rocketed. Military planes that could fly around the world without refuelling, and not have to pay a penalty in carrying all that extra weight. Nor ever be concerned about re-arming after firing their weapons. A single jet could have the firepower of an entire squadron.

On the other hand, and very troubling, was that this space compression meant an invasion force with hundreds, or thousands, of troops, with all their equipment, could easily slip through the portal in a single rucksack. If the ponies weren’t telling the truth about themselves and what they wanted, then humans were well and truly boned.

And if terrorists got their hands on this? Or drug smugglers? The damage that a single person could do would be incalculable. He would have to ask the Equestrians if they had a way to detect people using this magic. And if they said no, hope they were wrong.

۸- ̰ -۸

After having finished both the cider and some of the best cake they had ever tasted, which Lady Pinkie had insisted they sample, they returned up to the house. They had no sooner arrived when a man rushed in the front door. “Princess Twilight Sparkle,” he gasped, coming to attention as soon as he saw her in the sitting-room. “Princess Celestia . . . ,” he stopped and looked at the three non-Equestrians, then rapidly moved closer to the Princess and spoke to her quietly. Her eyes got bigger, then her pupils narrowed down, and she started breathing heavily.

“Oh my gosh!” she said startled. “Oh my gosh,” she repeated aghast. She suddenly changed to a pony and began trotting in place. She looked over at three men. “Princess Celestia would like to meet you, Prime Minister! She’s waiting just on the other side of the portal! Oh my gosh! I never expected her to do that so soon!” She began pacing back and forth. “I should have known she would want to meet the Prime Minister today. What’s wrong with me?” she wailed. “She’s going to be so disappointed! What am I going to do? What should I do first?” Stray hairs began poking straight out from her mane, giving her the appearance of someone slightly unhinged, and becoming more so by the moment.

From the way the others were rolling their eyes and face-palming, Castor got the idea that the panic the purple pony was going through was normal.

“I didn’t even think of her meeting the Prime Minister today — just canceling her daily court session and coming here! I didn’t even think of that! I left that completely off my list!” She gasped, and a scroll suddenly flew up out the bag on the floor by her chair, with what looked like a quill and inkpot. The scroll unrolled across the floor as she frantically began to scan it. “This changes everything!” she cried out, and the quill began to fly across the scroll. She darted over to the Prime Minister and sat, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes, ears laid back, chin quivering, one hoof lifted beseechingly, “You will agree to meet her, won’t you?” In the background, the quill was scratching away at the scroll. Spike, the dragon, was shaking his head and sighing while watching her.

And, right there, Castor realized the human race was doomed. Only the most heartless, vicious criminals would be able to resist those puppy-dog eyes and posture. Humanity’s only hope was that the ponies never realized their hidden power.

John Major never had a chance. He stared down at the terminally-cute and adorable purple-pony, sighed, and said, “Why yes, of course I will. If she travelled all the way from Canterlot to the portal, it would be churlish of me to not reciprocate.”

“Oh thank you, thank you,” she cried hurling herself at him, hugging his waist and burying her head against his chest. “You don’t know what this means to me!” she said, half-muffled by her position. Castor watched as the Prime Minister stroked the back of Princess Sparkle’s head with a bemused expression.

“TWILIGHT!” Lady Rarity said, disapprovingly. Lady Rainbow took a more direct approach, after an exaggerated eye roll, and flew over to her and began prying her friend off the Prime Minister. Spike joined her.

“Please excuse my . . . cousin,” Prince Blood said to the Prime Minister and his Deputy. “She is very obsessive about her plans, she creates a new list daily of everything she thinks will happen.” He paused. “Every contingency is covered. So when something unexpected happens that she didn’t include, she gets quite excitable.” He gave a disapproving look at her.

“Twi, calm down or you’ll make us late to meet the Princess,” Spike said.

Princess Sparkle suddenly bolted backwards a step, half-crouching. “Princess Celestia is waiting!” The bag beside the chair suddenly flew across the room and wrapped into place on her back, the quill, inkpot, and scroll following rapidly and hovering over her back, the quill still making notes. Just as suddenly, Spike floated up into the air and onto her back.

There was a flash of light, the tinkling of bells, and the Princess, Spike, and her writing implements disappeared.

The three men stared at the empty spot where she had been. The Equestrians all sighed deeply. Prince Blood was holding his hand to his face, with his eyes closed.

The Prime Minister looked up. “What just happened?”

Prince Blood sighed, again, and answered quietly. “She teleported to the portal. It’s a skill all alicorns possess. Once she realizes we aren’t there, she’ll come right . . . .”

There was another flash of light and tinkling of bells, and Twilight reappeared, looking even more frazzled than before. Spike appeared to be just as dazzled as the rest of them.

“. . . back.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried running in a small circle, ending facing the two ministers. “I’ll take you right there!”

“Wait!” cried Lady Rarity, as they suddenly appeared inside the tent. Fortunately, no one had been seated. The three humans gasped at the abrupt transition. Twilight spun to run down the centre aisle to the portal. “Hurry, Celestia’s waiting . . . .”

“Woah there, honey,” Lady Jack said, not quite tackling the mare, but wrapping her forelegs around the distraught princess. “You don’t want Princess Celestia to see you in a panic!” She started rocking her slightly. “Remember what Cadence said, deep breaths, deep breaths,” the mare said. “Breath in through the snout . . . hold it . . . breath out through the muzzle.” She suited her actions to her words and prompted the purple pony to follow suit.

After several repetitions, Princess Sparkle’s mane no longer looked so frazzled and she began to calm down. After another moment, she stopped and looked around the room.

Castor was amazed to see that he could actually see her face turn red through her fur as she blushed, realizing how she had acted.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at the floor, then looking up at the three men. “It’s just that . . . well, Princess Celestia is waiting . . . .”

Prince Blood said, “Prime Minister, Deputy Prime Minister.” He inclined his head slightly, “Welcome to the portal station on the Equestrian Embassy grounds. The doors on the left and right,” he gestured towards them with his cane, “lead to changing rooms for those people who change when going through the portal.” He smiled. “It is easier to change clothes while in human form. There are suitable robes available in each room for humans to wear to maintain modesty while transitioning. They are easily put on or removed when in either form.” He smiled at them.

“We provide these for our guests, as we usually do not wear clothes in our world except as protection in certain jobs and as status symbols, and thus, are not perturbed by their lack.”

He turned to the princess. “Princess Twilight, will any of our guests today need to use the changing rooms?” He glared at her sternly.

“Oh, er.” She looked at him, abashed. “Let me check.” She turned to the three humans and studied them a moment. “I’m going to cast a spell. It won’t harm you. I’m merely looking to see if you have enough magic to transform to a pony when you go through the portal.” She stared at them, concentrating.

Princess Twilight grinned at Castor. “The Prime Minister John Major and Deputy Prime Minister Michael Heseltine will have no problems going through the portal. Detective Inspector Searle, however, should probably put on one of the robes, just in case.”

Prince Blood nodded. “Excellent.” He looked at the two men. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be just a moment.” He looked at Castor and gestured at the door on the right, which, Castor noticed, now had the emblem of man on it. The Prince followed him into the changing room.

The Prince Blood removed and carefully folded his jacket, and then placed it in a basket with his name on it. The basket was on a shelf with many others, all named. A second shelf, a bit lower had empty baskets, none named. On the opposite wall were a series of hooks with multi-coloured robes, a bench below them.

Castor started removing his jacket. The moment his jacket was in the basket, his name appeared on the front. Momentarily non-plussed, he stared at it, then shrugged and continued to undress.

Both wearing a robe, Castor followed the ambassador out the other door into the hall to the portal, joining the two ministers and Princess Sparkle, now also wearing a robe.

“I shall go first, Prime Minister, Deputy Prime Minister,” the Prince said. “Just walk at a normal pace. You’ll notice the sign just above our heads with the name Sweet Apple Acres. There will be a slight moment of disorientation. There is a railing on the other side, just like this side, so if you feel the need for that reassurance, just grab the railing.” He nodded at them and then walked into the tree, disappearing.

“Would you like me to go first?” asked Castor quietly.

Major gave a quick shake of his head, then strode towards the tree, followed quickly by Heseltine, and then Castor.

The experience was at once strange, and yet at the same time, not that strange. It was like walking into a photographic darkroom through a “light-lock.” One moment you’re in brightly lit closet, then it’s darker as the wooden door behind you closes, then lit again as the wooden door in front of you opens. Only in this case, he stepped outside and promptly fell to his hands and knees.

Only, they weren’t his hands and knees, he was standing on hooves.

Both Major and Heseltine were staring at him as he looked up at them. It was difficult to say who was more surprised. It was one thing to have someone say, this might happen, and another to actually see it happen.

Suddenly he was lifted up and moved to one side and put back down. Before he could panic, though, he heard the Princess behind him say, “Yes! I thought that was sufficient magic!” He looked over his shoulder to see the purple Princess standing beside and slightly behind him. “Congratulations, Mr. Searle, you are a pegasus!” She smiled at him, hopping in place, as if proud of an achievement. “You’ll have difficulty walking, at first,” she continued, so let me carry you in my magic.”

He felt his feet and hands . . . hooves . . . lift off the wooden deck. He looked down and saw that he was floating a few centimeters in the air. Then it hit him. Pegasus? He turned his head. He had wings! The mere thought of them made them shoot out, almost like he was flexing a muscle on the back of his shoulders. Unfortunately, that reaction had him smacking the Princess in the face with his wing.

“Ack!” she said stepping back.

The wings folded back down almost as fast as they had extended.

“I’m sorry” he said, hurriedly, “I didn’t know they would do that.”

Lady Dash was already laughing at him, and the others were covering their mouths with a hoof, snickering.

“It’s okay,” Princess Sparkle said dismissively. “You’ll learn to control them, later.”

“Yeah,” said the Rainbow Dash, “you shoulda seen how many times Twi knocked things over in the library or gave somepony a face full of feathers before she learned to control her wings!” And laughed some more.

“PRINCESS CELESTIA!” Twilight suddenly exclaimed and Castor abruptly found himself several meters away from where he had been, facing a beautiful white horse with both wings and a very long horn. And she looked much more like a horse than the ponies looked like ponies, with long delicate legs. Even sitting, she towered over the ponies around her. Her most striking feature, though, was her extremely long and gorgeous mane, which seemed to be made of green, blue, violet, and pink hair that weaved and wove like flames in a breeze that he couldn’t feel.

Castor had had the opportunity to see many horses in his travels, and he could say that, without a doubt, this one put all the others to shame. Not only was she immaculately groomed, but she seemed to slightly glow and radiated a faint heat. Her regal appearance was helped by the gold crown on her head and the gold . . . it was too big to be a necklace . . . chest piece, both with an enormous purple gem centred on them. The gold shoes on her hooves certainly contributed to that image. She was seated before a low table with a tea service in place. She was watching the purple alicorn with more than a little amusement.

“Good morning, Twilight,” she paused to take a genteel sip of her tea. “Why don’t you introduce your guests?”

Once that bit of purple-panic had finally calmed down, with another time-out for the excitable princess to practice her breathing exercise, the eleven of them were seated in armchairs — the three humans — or on pillows around the table with Princess Celestia, and enjoying a cup of quite excellent tea.

“Thank you for coming through the portal, Prime Minister Major, Deputy Prime Minister Heseltine. I always find it makes things easier when the ones in charge meet each other. I hope that today we will be able to begin a long and fruitful association.”

Castor knew he should have paid more attention to what was being said, but he was too involved in trying to figure out just how it was that a pony, himself, with hooves instead of hands, somehow managed to grasp the handle of a tea cup. It should have been impossible. The hooves were hard keratin. He verified that by with a mild tap against the side of his head. Yet, somehow, he could see it flex and bend around the cup-handle and actually hold the bloody cup as he drank from it.

He did notice, though, that oddly enough, the things that seemed to attract the ponies’ ruler’s attention the most, as they talked, were in the category of literature, both written and audio/video, and music. The technical items didn’t seem to be of as much interest. Princess Twilight, however was entranced by the subjects of technology and science, with Princess Celestia gently moving the conversation away from that whenever it came up.

By the time they had finished several cups of tea, the Prime Minister had secured a promise that several pony doctors would come to the portal to examine some human patients to see if their “technology” would work. Once they had a few successes on this side, they would try them on the other, and then see about expanding their services to the general population.

Similarly, explanations and classes on their “space” expansion and feather-weight “technology” were tentatively scheduled.

As they were standing, however, the Prime Minister stopped and looked at the Equestrian ruler, who was on eye level with him.

“There is one other thing.” He paused for a long moment, clearly debating whether he should speak. “Princess Twilight has said that your ponies, in their explorations around Little Whinging, and London, haven’t discovered any people who could do magic.” He paused and looked at Princess Celestia.

She tilted her head questioningly.

The Prime Minister looked at his Deputy, then back at her. “In view of the fact some of our people do have magic,” he nodded his head at Castor, “would it surprise you to know that there is an entire group of people who know all about magic? And can use it?”

Heseltine stared at him, clearly surprised, as did Castor and Yueshi.

Celestia smiled. “I would expect it, actually,” she said softly. “After all, it takes more than a little magic to create a portal, even by accident.”

Still smiling, she added, “And yes, we have met them. In fact, they came to us, first, not that they knew of the portal, or even that it exists.”

She turned slightly to look at the startled alicorn. “My most faithful student, Twilight, has already met them.” She giggled delicately, “They think we are from a place in your world they call Atlantis. An island hidden from the rest of your world through powerful magics.”

She looked back at the Minister.

He and the others were staring at her.

“They have told us of their Statute of Secrecy,” she continued, “of keeping themselves separate from the normal population. We, of course, abided by their wishes and haven’t mentioned them to any of your people. And, naturally, we haven’t mentioned our desire to establish relations with your world to them.

“The fact that we are, demonstrably, from a different world means that our use of magic in no way indicates the presence of their hidden society. As long as they behave themselves they are in no danger of being exposed.”

She smirked. “In fact, it will help them. Once the public discovers our abilities, many of the wizards’ accidentally-seen small magical displays will be attributed to us. Which will draw attention away from their society.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Will you be telling them of our conversations?”

Slowly, the Prime Minister shook his head. “I have no way to contact them. I only know of their existence because their Prime Minister introduced himself to me on the first day I was in office. He said that, with luck, we would never talk again, that he would only contact me in the event of an emergency.” He paused.

“There is a portrait in my office that is supposed to be my link to their side, but I’m not sure how it works. It just started speaking to me that day, telling me the Magical Prime Minister wanted to see me. I don’t know if it works the other way.” He shuddered. “I use my office only for myself, all meeting with other officials takes place in meeting rooms, without paintings. I would abandon it completely, but then they might do something else.” He scowled. “They probably have spies watching us.”

She nodded. “Yes, they do seem to be a bit arrogant in their dealings with normal people. Perhaps you should try to contact them and tell them aliens from far away have contacted you and you felt they should know. And then we shall see what they say. Use words other than magic to describe our abilities, if it comes up, such as what you call Extra Sensory Perception.” She gave her head a little shake at the thought of such a simple thing being called that. “Or, specifically, telekinesis, which Twilight tells me our magic most frequently looks like. Just insist it’s not magic but ESP or telekinesis.” She smirked again. “That way they can’t say they weren’t warned when they discover the truth. You will be blameless. And you have told them nothing but the truth.” She smiled serenely.

Back in Little Whinging, as the two ministers were getting ready to leave, Princess Sparkle said, “Before you go, you should take these with you.” A woman came outside the house carrying two fabric briefcases. “These two briefcases have the expansion charm on them. They have about half-a-cubic meter of space inside them.” She smirked. “Physical proof so those to whom you tell the secret won’t think you have — what’s the phrase? — gone completely bloody barking barmy?”

Watching as the four cars pulled away, Castor turned to the Princess. “That was certainly impressive,” he said.

She smiled at him. “I hope they agree to keep our secret.”

He smiled back. “I can’t imagine them saying no.”

She grinned happily.

“On the other hand,” his expression turned serious, as did his tone. “I have to ask in my capacity as a member of the Surrey Police, what can you tell me about Harry Potter?”

۸-ꞈ-۸

44 — Beginnings

Castor and his two associates followed Miss Arrow into the dining-room at number Eleven Magnolia Road, early Wednesday morning. A boy was seated at the table, with three girls seated beside him. Princess Sparkle stood behind them, a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy was visibly shivering and looked ready to bolt at any moment. The solicitor, Lin Yueshi, stood behind the girls, beside Twilight.

“Princess Sparkle,” Miss Arrow said, “Detective Inspector Searle is here.” She stood aside as they walked past her.

“Good morning, Princess Sparkle, Mr. Yueshi,” Castor said. He turned to the short man beside him carrying a box only slightly larger than a regular briefcase. “I would like to introduce Mr. Rob Renzetti, the court recorder for this case,” he turned to the woman just entering the room. “And Mrs. Sarah Wall, of Child Services, who will represent Mr. Potter’s interests during this interview.”

Normally, an interview such as this would take place at the police station or at one of the Child Services facilities. However, Twilight had been quite adamant that it take place here. She had said, “He has no faith in any authorities in the human world. He is terrified that you will just take him, and hand him over to the Dursleys, despite any assurances you or I can offer to the contrary.” She had sighed. “Just getting him to agree to meet you took a bit of convincing. And at any sign you might take him, he will disappear faster than you can blink.”

Her tone had hardened. “As I have said, he is now a citizen of Equestria, and Princess Celestia takes the safety of her subjects very seriously.”

In other words, the usual practice of moving the child of arrested individuals to a foster home would not be allowed, and might cause an international — interplanetary? — incident. Fortunately, having the sovereign ruler of a nation as the “foster parent” made the situation a bit easier. The normal questions of living arrangements and monetary liquidity were a non-issue. Nor the ability to care for a child.

It had been decided that they would only take action to remove the boy should it become obvious he didn’t want to stay with the Princess.

“Mr. Renzetti, Mrs. Wall, I would like to introduce you to Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

The court recorder nodded to the woman, set his box on the table, and opened it. He removed a small machine that looked somewhat like a typewriter, but had far fewer keys, and set it on the table. Then he pulled out a small tape recorder and started it.

While he did this, Twilight said, “This is Harry Potter,” she put her hand on his shoulder. “And these three are friends of his, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom.”

Castor nodded to Harry, smiling, “Good. It’s always easier when we know what the people in a case look like.”

He sat at the end of the table and glanced at Rob, who nodded. “All right, the recording is on. Today is Wednesday, August 28, 1991.” He glanced at the stenographer who was typing away, making a physical copy in case there was a problem with the recording. “I am Detective Inspector Castor Searle of the Surrey Police Department. With me is Mr. Rob Renzetti, the court recorder, and Mrs. Sarah Wall, of Child Services, to interview Mr. Harry Potter, an eleven-year-old boy, about the circumstances regarding his living with the Dursley family. Present, at the moment, are Twilight Sparkle, Harry Potter, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom. The last three are Mr. Potter’s same-age friends. Miss Sparkle is his guardian pro tempore. Also present is Lin Yueshi, solicitor for Miss Sparkle and Mr. Potter.

“Miss Sparkle, Mr. Yueshi,” he said, turning to face them, “As I told you, we need to conduct this interview in private. We’ve discovered that children tend to be unwilling to divulge information when their guardians, siblings, or friends are present. They are afraid that what they will say will upset or disappoint the others. Hence, Mrs. Wall, here.

“It is Mrs. Wall’s job to ensure that the questioning is reasonable and that no one tries to trick or force statements from Mr. Potter that might be misleading or outright untrue.” He looked directly at the seated children. “And to prevent badgering from overly enthusiastic officers.

“This is not a custody inquiry,” he continued, “and questions regarding that issue will not be brought up. We are concerned only with the matter at hand, an inquiry into Harry Potter's situation at the Dursley household for the last ten years, and what he can tell us about it.”

Twilight nodded in understanding. They had already gone over all this. At great length. He was repeating it now for the benefit of Harry and the girls. And the recording.

“Excellent!” said the princess. “I’ve explained to Harry,” she squeezed his shoulder in her hand, “that you have some questions for him regarding his relatives, and that he should be as truthful as possible.”

“Before we begin,” Castor said, “may I take a picture of you, Mr. Potter? We have been unable to find any pictures whatsoever, and there are some suggestions that you . . . are no longer alive.”

Softly, Harry said, “Yes, sir.”

Nodding, Castor took a camera out of the court recorders’ box and gestured for Harry to stand up. Then for his friends to move aside.

Once that was taken care of, he said, “Thank you, Mr. Potter. Now, Miss Sparkle, if you would be so kind as to give us some privacy.”

Smiling at Harry and offering a quick, “Just relax, Harry, everything will be fine,” she ushered the three girls out of the room, closing the door behind her. Mr. Yueshi moved over to sit beside Harry. He smiled at the boy. “I shall remain with you, Mr. Potter, as a witness for Miss Sparkle. If you have any questions about the questions, how to answer them, or want help in any way, just ask me. Anything you say in here is in legal confidence and I shall not repeat anything you say to anyone, not even Miss Sparkle, without your permission. Understand?”

Harry nodded, obviously relieved, and relaxed a bit.

“Miss Sparkle and the three girls have left the room, leaving only myself, Mrs. Wall, Mr. Renzetti, Mr. Yueshi, and Mr. Potter in the room.” Castor said, for the benefit of the recorder.

“First of all, Mr. Potter,” he continued, “I only wish to determine your situation with the Dursleys. This has nothing to do with guardianship or changing your current arrangements. I ask that you tell us the truth, as you know it, as much as you can remember, and without any unneeded embellishments. If you think of something after we’ve moved on to another point, feel free to interrupt and add that information, or correct anything you might have said up to that point. Understand?”

Mrs. Wall added. “And if you become thirsty or want a break, just ask.” She opened her over-sized purse and drew out a small teddy bear. “Here,” she said smiling, “I’ve found that having a plush to hold sometimes makes these things easier.”

Harry nodded uncertainly to the detective, and took hold of the bear, clasping it to his chest.

“We’ll start with the easy stuff. What is your full name?”

They took a break after the first hour, then another at the second hour. They finished shortly before lunch.

Castor was very glad that Twilight had admitted that Harry Potter was in her custody, and had been ever since he had run away. She could have stone-walled him, and he would have been left only with suspicions. Her position in the Equestrian government, and their complete isolation from Earth would have made finding Harry impossible.

And the information the boy had provided had fit nicely with what they had learned from his school teachers and the neighbours. It had filled in many of the gaps they had had in their case. And it was clear from the boy's interactions with the others during the breaks that his new situation was much preferred, and Castor doubted that Child Services could provide a better environment.

While the other adults were angered and dismayed by what they had learned, Castor was simply furious. If he ever caught up with either of the Dursley adults when they were finally released, which wouldn’t be for quite a few years based on the evidence they had, he would be more than happy to share his opinion to the lowlifes. At great volume. And if he were retired at the time, maybe with his fists adding the punctuation. The fine, and the few weeks at the Queen’s Pleasure, would be worth it.

As for the present, the boy was happy with living with the princess. And the way Twilight and the three girls had rushed to console him each time he came out of the room, and were now in the room with him, well he had a very good support group. Friends who would stay with him.

Castor saw no reason why the Princess should not be given official custody of the boy.

And he knew a few people in high places who could make that happen. Best to wait, though, until after the Dursleys were convicted and sentenced.

In the meantime, he would not waste time thinking about it. A trick he had learned in the Sport and Social, future problems belong in the future, concentrate on the problems in front of you! He just made a small note in his notebook-calendar regarding that issue.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Castor led Princess Twilight and the rest of her entourage into the small theatre on a small military base to the north of London. It was just after six o’clock on Thursday evening. The ladies took the seats that were arranged to one side of the podium that stood centre-stage at the front of the theatre.

He stood behind the podium and looked out at the people gathered in front of him. There were only a hundred and seven of them, leaving most of the theatre empty. He could see them eyeing the unusual lengths and colours of the Equestrians' hair. There were many appreciative looks, as well as some disapproving ones. The smarter ones, or at least the more observant ones, noticed the other half-dozen women and men, with equally unusual hair-colour and lengths, as they positioned themselves at the edges of the stage and the back of the theatre. Each paired with an officer from MI5. One of them was wearing a floor-length house-robe.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” Castor started. “I want to first say thank you for volunteering for this study.” He swept his gaze across them. “But before we go any further I must remind you that everything you see, hear, and do from the moment you volunteered for this study is classified as top-secret. You are, under no circumstances, to communicate to anyone anything you see, hear, or experience while you are participating in it, except when you are being debriefed by authorized personnel of Her Majesty’s government. This includes not discussing any details with your fellow participants in the study.

“The ladies on this stage and I,” he gestured at the six, “are the exceptions. You are to answer our questions at all times with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, as you know it. There may be others, in the future, to whom such discretion is also given.

“These conditions will probably be lifted at the end of the study, and you can brag to your children and grandchildren that you took part in this study. And it will be something to brag about, as you will see.” He gave them all a stern look.

“I will repeat what you have already been told regarding this study. Failure to comply with these restrictions will result in your removal from the study, forfeiture of any bonuses, and, under certain circumstances, could result in a charge of treason under the Official Secrets Act.”

There were looks, and a little muttering, between the members of the group.

“Before we begin, though, I require that you state you understand these conditions and have no intention of discussing this study or your participation in it with anyone not authorized by the Her Majesty’s Government, including spouses, family, or significant others.” He smiled wryly. “Yes, I know you all signed non-disclosure agreements when you signed up for this study, this is the last step.” He sighed. “It will take a bit of time. Come up by rows onto the left side of the stage,” he pointed for clarity.

Castor, Twilight, and Applejack waited as the first person approached and stopped before them.

“Do you intend to discuss this with anyone not authorized by Her Majesty’s Government?” asked Castor as Applejack stared at the man intensely. Beside her, while the man was distracted, Twilight was checking to see if the man had any detectable magic.

The man snapped to attention, indicating he was a military volunteer, “Sir! No, Sir!” Applejack smiled and nodded at the man. Castor said, “Excellent. Thank you.”

They turned to the next person, a woman.

They were almost to the end when he saw Applejack frown and shake her head slightly.

Castor stopped and took another look at the man, who returned his look curiously, glancing between him and Applejack. Castor sighed, turned, and waved over a man waiting at the edge of the stage. They waited as he came over.

“I’m sorry,” Castor said to the volunteer, “but you cannot participate in the study. Mr. Carroll, here, will escort you back to London. Thank you for your time, though. Please wait at the side of the stage until we are finished.” They watched silently as the two walked off. Castor sighed. That man was going to have an especially interesting evening tonight, and day tomorrow. He hoped the volunteer had merely wanted to share the excitement of his participation in the “secret” study with his wife or girlfriend. If not . . . well, it was possible Applejack had uncovered a sleeper spy.

The Princess had insisted Lady Applejack meet every one of the volunteers as they answered a question about keeping this a secret. She had assured him that Lady Applejack would somehow know if the individual was lying. He wasn’t sure exactly how she was doing it, but, sadly, Twilight had also assured him that this was a skill unique to the pony in question. MI5 would have loved to get their hands on a way to uncover spies with a series of simple questions.

They finally finished. As the three waited for the last row to return to their seats, Twilight leaned close and said, with more than a bit of disappointment, “None had any trace of magic I could detect.” She was almost pouting. Castor watched Mr. Carroll and his guest exit the theatre.

He nodded his understanding. “You can sit now,” he said to the two women, “you don’t have to stand up here with me.”

They returned to their seats.

He took a deep breath and looked at the remaining men and women. “Thank you all. Is there anyone who wants to change their mind and leave the study? Now is your last chance. You will still be held to the terms of the non-disclosure agreement, though.”

No one moved. A few looked back at the doors at the rear of the theatre where the two men had exited.

“Excellent.

“I’m sure you have all heard the conspiracy-theorists saying that,” he paused, then said in a dramatic tone, “aliens . . . walk . . . among us.” He held his arms up like a bad actor pretending horror as he stepped back from the podium, mouth partially open in pretended shock.

They all stared at him. A few chuckled.

He stepped back to the podium and adopted a serious expression.

“Up until last month, those were just that, conspiracy theories, nothing based in fact.” A few frowns had begun to appear. “Last month, aliens, true aliens, beings not born on our world, aliens from a planet called Equus, discovered a portal, a doorway, if you will, to our world.” Practically everyone had raised eyebrows at hearing that, and a few startled exclamations of disbelief and surprise as they exchanged uncertain looks.

“Last week, a group of these aliens approached a member of Her Majesty’s government and asked to establish an embassy. Naturally, once we were convinced that this wasn’t some sort of hoax, we asked to reciprocate, to establish an embassy in their world.” He had their full attention, although quite a few were staring at the women on the stage with a dawning understanding.

“That’s why you are here today. That’s what this study is all about. And why it must remain a secret for the time being.” He studied his audience. Some were grinning, some were frowning, and some had blank expressions. “I’m sure you can all imagine the panic and chaos that would result should this information suddenly be released on an unsuspecting public.

“While their world and our world appear to be completely compatible, the aliens — they call themselves ponies,” that got a few looks of disbelief, “we’ll get to that in a moment” he explained, “the ponies mentioned that there might be an issue with long-term side-effects from living in their world. They are willing to take their chances in ours, but couldn’t, in good conscience, allow us to proceed unwarned.” He paused.

“You, ladies and gentlemen, will be among the first people to step onto a foreign world. Excluding astronauts who went to the Moon, there have been only five others who have made that trip, myself included. One of them has spent a considerable amount of time there, so we know for a fact that there is no immediate danger that we can detect. Unfortunately, his situation is unique, and rare, and cannot be necessarily extrapolated to the majority of Earth’s population.”

“That was why you all underwent such thorough physicals. For you who are not scientists, that established a baseline of your physical conditions, to help us catch any deviations as soon as practical.

“There is a second group of volunteers, who are being briefed in a separate location, acting as the control group.

“Before we proceed, however, you should know that the portal changes some of the people who go through it to match the native inhabitants. It has done the reverse for the ponies. And they call themselves ponies for a reason.” He turned to Twilight and raised an eyebrow. She grinned and gestured to the woman wearing the robe.

The woman nodded, having been forewarned, walked to up to the podium on the opposite side from the seated Ladies and shrugged off the robe. Before the audience had a chance to react to the apparently nude woman, a waist-high pegasus stood in her place. She proudly stretched her wings wide and posed for a few moments, and then flapped them a few times, lifting herself into the air, before gently touching back down.

The entire audience was speechless.

She flapped her wings again and took a long, slow, lazy flight over the heads of the volunteers.

Lady Dash tsked, “Oh, come on.”

“Dash,” said Twilight, but it was already too late.

The audience watched, astonished as the addressed woman stood and quickly disrobed. The last item hadn’t had time to fall to the floor when she darted to the front of the stage, leaping off it into the audience. The people in front of her gave startled yells, expecting her land on top of them. Instead, they watched with open mouths, as she transformed in mid-air into a second pegasus and zoomed out across the theatre.

The other pegasus just watched her approach. Rainbow Dash flew right up to the other, tapped her shoulder, and yelled, “TAG, you’re it!” and darted away.

After a startled moment, the other grinned and took off after her.

The next few minutes were an aerial display unlike anything the humans had ever seen. Flips, barrel-rolls, hair-pin turns, and abrupt changes in altitude all proved to the audience that these were not actors flying on hidden wires.

Finally, Twilight stood, and yelled, “Dash! That’s quite enough!”

A moment later, the two pegasi were settling down on the stage, the guard beside Dash looking a little bit abashed. The pegasus smoothly changed back to her human shape, picked the robe up from the stage, and went back to her position at the side of the stage.

Rainbow Dash just grinned unrepentantly and jumped up to hover over the stage, her fore-legs crossed as she sat in mid-air. Everyone was staring at that impossible stunt.

Castor picked up where he had stopped. “A pegasus is only one of the major pony types, there are also unicorn, earth, night, crystal pegasus, crystal earth, and Saddle Arabian ponies.”

Beside him, Ladies Fluttershy, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Applejack transformed as he named their types.

“You, however, will not change.” There were a few disappointed looks, and not a few “Awws,” in disappointment.

“That was part of the selection process. Being hoofed creatures, ponies cannot hold a pen or pencil in their hooves, nor can they use a typewriter with any proficiency. Which would make it very difficult for an embassy staff to operate, now wouldn’t it? Not to mention the difficulty guards would have operating their equipment.”

It was a rhetorical question, but he could see that the recruits understood his point.

“And while the ponies have their own methods of writing, I have been told it takes years of practice to become more than adequate at making letters and numbers that are actually recognizable. Time we don’t have.” He took a deep breath.

“The portal, from what the ponies tell us, is supposed to adapt whomever goes through it to whatever world they are going to.” All of the ponies, except Rainbow Dash, transformed back to humans. “This means that when they come here, their bodies are perfectly adapted to surviving and living here.” He turned and grinned at Twilight, “Those are their natural hair colours, by the way. With the help of a stylist, they could make their hair to any human colour, should they so choose.” She smiled impishly back at him.

“That most humans do not change when they go through the portal leaves a big question mark. Does the portal fix things so that, while not changed, humans can easily survive in their world? Or does the portal do nothing? If it does nothing, is there something in this new world that human bodies cannot handle? And I’m not talking about viruses or other diseases — is there a radiation there about which we know nothing that will, in time, cause harm? Or, perhaps, will our bodies easily adapt to that radiation, but then react badly when it is removed when you return here? Will living there for any significant amount of time cause a human to die? Either while there or when they return to here?

“They, and we, simply do not know.

“That’s where this study comes in. While we have made excursions of a few hours with no difficulties, we need more raw data. So, each week, two of you will return and undergo a complete physical, looking for any alterations from the baseline physicals you received. In addition, the ponies will be doing their own medical examinations to see if they can detect anything from their end of things.”

He paused and took a drink from the glass unobtrusively placed on a shelf in the podium.

“I cannot stress enough how important this is to us, to humanity. The ponies have a way to regrow lost limbs that they are willing to share with us. We will begin experimenting with that technology next week.”

Most of the audience sat up straight in their seats, gasping.

“They have a cure for most cancers. They don’t know if their cure will work with us, but they are willing to try. We will begin experimenting with that technology next month.”

Now there were many more exclamations of surprise. Castor knew that there had to be a least a few in the audience who had lost family members or friends to cancer.

“Using their technology, they think they can develop a way to remove pollution from the air over a city like London in a matter of minutes. And those are only a few of the things we will be able to learn from them.”

He paused to let those ideas sink in.

“Settle down, please,” the room grew quiet. “And, yes, those of you in the medical field will be helping us with that while you are in Equus.”

“So, you see, the stakes in this study are high. Each step must be carefully studied for side-effects before being made known to the public.

“And, ‘what do they want from us,’ I’m sure you’re asking yourselves.”

He shook his head ruefully. “Believe it or not, one of their first requests was to see a performance of Shakespeare.”

That got a few surprised chuckles from the audience.

“We do however, have some things that interest them outside of literature and the arts. Our desktop computers and computer games have them mesmerized. They don’t have telephones, television, nor radio. Not even the telegraph. They simply never thought about those!

“Neither do they have grocery stores such as a Waitrose supermarket, nor large department stores. Harrods almost literally had some of them drooling at the variety on display.”

That got him a few laughs.

“However, before you go there, there are some things I must tell you.

He waved his arm at the Lighting Booth at the back of the theatre. As the curtain rose and the lights dimmed, he said, “First, there is a massive amount of evidence that there has been contact between our two planets, going back hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of years.”

He touched a control on the podium and a picture of an animal appeared on the screen above and behind him. “Cats, dogs, rabbits, mice . . . ,” he continued naming animals as their pictures appeared on the screen that had been hidden behind the curtain until the whole screen was filled. “. . . are all on Equus. But on Equus, unlike Earth, they are all intelligent.” He touched another button and the pictures disappeared, but a video began playing.

“This is Sweet Apple Acres,” they heard Lady Applejack say, “and this here is Bessie. Say ‘hello,’ Bessie.”

The cow looked down, then back up, and said, “Do I have to?”

“It would be nice.”

She sighed, then looked at the camera. She waved a hoof and said, “Hello.” She turned to Applejack, who was off camera. “Can I go now?”

“Shurely, honey, I’ll be seeing you at milking time.”

The cow gave her a long look, then said, “Okay, just don’t be late, today.” She turned and walked off. The video cut off.

“Not all of them can speak. The ones in the slides I showed you are about as smart as a ten-year-old child, on average.”

He touched a button and another slide appeared, “There are cows, deer, buffalo, donkeys, goats . . . ,” and he started another list.

When that screen was full, he blanked it. “There are mythological creatures as well, almost directly out of Greek mythology! Dragons, griffons, chimeras, cockatrices, hydras . . . .”

When the screen was once more full, he added, “The ones wearing clothes are intelligent enough to have their own countries and civilizations, and can talk with you as well as any secondary school graduate.”

“In short, if you see an animal, it can probably talk to you. If it can’t talk, it can at least understand you.” He paused “Don’t screw up. That dumb animal you’re dismissing might just be an ambassador to a foreign Equus country. If in doubt, ask a pony.” The volunteers stared at him, too gobsmacked to say anything in response.

“As a result, the only meat-dish you will see is fish. We will not be importing hamburger and pork for you to eat. You are, for however long you stay on the other side of the portal, vegetarians. Please do not discuss meat while you are in Equus. If somepony asks, change the subject . . . unless you can say, no, you do not eat that item. Perhaps you can stress the food items we both like to eat.”

"If any of you have leather shoes, wallets, or purses, we will exchange them for non-leather items on the bus.”

To say the audience was shocked into a near stupor when the presentation was finally complete was an understatement.

By the time they boarded the bus, much later, it was night-time. The ride to Little Whinging was quiet, the volunteers mentally digesting what they had learned. The blacked-out windows in the bus prevented them from seeing just where they were being taken. Once they arrived, a canvas canopy blocked their view of the stars as they made their way into the tent, and Equestria.

The hotel in Equestria for human visitors had been finished, and that was where they would spend the first few weeks, getting acclimated to the ponies and learning what was expected of them by their government and the ponies.

۸- ̬ -۸

Part III – Hogwarts, First Year — Ch. 45 — Train Gang

Mrs. Weasley greeted the Equestrians and Grangers as a pegasus on Sunday morning, September First, when they arrived at the Weasley’s home. Apparently, Ginny had finally convinced her mother into trying to transform the previous evening. The Weasley matriarch’s reason for not doing it before had been that someone her age didn’t need an animagus form. Not surprisingly, Mr. Weasley and her sons had been cajoling and encouraging her as well. For the twins, having a mother who could change to a pegasus was just too brilliant to pass up. That, and she had turned out to be a magnificent Quidditch player as a pony — a practice opportunity the twins were reluctant to give up.

Mr. Weasley had never really mentioned his reasons. Perhaps he thought his wife would be happier. Or maybe he just wanted a small pony to cuddle. Luna knew, Harry liked cuddling with his pony friends.

The twins, wisely, decided not to inquire or to prank their father, or mother, about the subject.

With that kind of support, once she made the decision it hadn’t taken her long to trigger the transformation. That she was already well accustomed to her own magic and could more easily feel the difference between that and her pegasus magic, Harry thought, was probably a huge help.

What wasn’t a help was watching the Weasley children run around the house like madmen trying to get together all the stuff they should have done last night. More than once they started out for the train station, only to have to turn back and pick something up.

Harry was monumentally pleased that Twilight had insisted on going over her checklist last night, with the fillies, to make sure everything was packed. They had thought the Weasley family would be ready to go when they arrived, two hours ahead of the train’s departure. They should have had more than enough time to arrive at the station and get seats. They were wrong.

Finally, Harry said, “If there’s anything else you’ve forgotten, we can send Hedwyg or one of the girls’ owls to home to have your parents send it to you!”

On that note, they finally made it to King's Cross Station and Platform 9-3/4s. And onto the train before it started to pull out. Just barely. Having their trunks in their pockets certainly made the event less stressful for the non-Weasley members of the expedition.

Twilight, of course, was already making plans to examine the train in detail at a later date. She did remember to wave good-bye as the train left, though. Distracted as she was in examining the spells that had gone into the station’s construction, Harry hoped she would remember her meeting with Blueblood planned for the afternoon.

۸- ̬ -۸

The trip to Hogwarts was rather uneventful for the seven students. Ron was still upset that his little sister was going with them, and pointedly ignored her presence in the cabin. That he had to share his books with her all year wasn’t helping his mood — he almost hoped she’d be sorted into another House, he had muttered to Harry more than once in the last two weeks. Not even a game of Exploding Snap had pulled him out of his funk for more than a few minutes.

If Scootaloo had known where Hogwarts was, outside of the vague description “Scotland,” she probably would have tried to fly there. As it was, she was grumpy that she could only hover near the ceiling. She made a game of trying to see how little she needed to move her wings to hover until lunch time arrived. Then she landed and sat with the rest of them to eat. They inspected the candy spread offered by the snack-cart witch in detail, purchasing several of everything, and sharing their bounty with all.

The ride gave Harry time to reflect on the past month.

All-in-all, it was the most fun Harry had ever had. He hadn’t once had to rescue the fillies or run in terror from some monster chasing them through the forest. In fact, he couldn’t remember any summer where the Cutie Mark Crusaders, himself included, didn’t spend at least part of the month before school in trouble and grounded. Of course, he had only one other summer to compare to, but still, it was the thought that counted. And he counted it.

Actually, now that he thought about it, it was the first time since he had arrived in Equestria that he hadn’t been grounded for at least part of a month. Huh. An entire month without being grounded. It had to be a record.

Hermione had insisted that they try to work their way through the Second Year charms book, the first having been not all that difficult. Not that the book was necessarily easy — there had been many long and detailed theories about magic and historical details on each spell. They had ignored those and concentrated on just learning to cast the spells. Tackling the Second Year had been a good idea, they discovered, as the more complicated spells made the earlier ones seem easy, which helped improve their spell-casting.

So, when Hermione had proposed that Percy give them a test on how good they were with the spells, it hadn’t been out-right rejected. They were curious how they would do. And Percy could be counted on to be impartial in his judgements, even if he was a bit miffed that they had skipped all the theory stuff. He was taking his Prefect Duties a bit too seriously, Harry felt. And decided not to tell him that the twins had charmed his Prefect’s Badge to include a question-mark whenever he wasn’t looking at it. And Ron had kept falling asleep the few times they had gone into reading the theories.

Harry hadn’t minded, he had used the Book Walking spell to go through the books when he was at Little Whinging in his room. He had mentioned the spell to the fillies at the beginning of last month, but they hadn’t been interested. Or perhaps the movie they were watching had distracted them. In any case, the girls seemed to like helping Ginny keep up. And Ron, when he had offered to teach him a spell so he could learn without falling asleep, had almost run away. Hermione had been too engrossed in a book to hear his question.

Harry had had to agree that going into Hogwarts already having mastered the First Year spells would provide them much more time off to play — although that wasn’t how Hermione had put it. And, as Twilight had taught him, being ahead of the rest of the class was never a bad idea. That way, if you did run into a difficult section, you had more time to work on it.

Plus, learning magic wasn’t exactly what he would call a chore!

The only unpleasant part of the month had been his “interview” with that Detective Inspector bloke. He had spent the rest of the day distracted by thoughts of what he wanted to do to the Dursleys when he had learned enough magic. Thoughts he had managed to avoid for most of the month. The girls had tried their best to cheer him up, and he had appreciated their efforts. But still . . . the Dursleys just made his blood boil.

۸- ̫ -۸

When Hermione went to the loo shortly after their lunch, she met a boy, Neville Longbottom, who had lost his toad. After checking with them that they hadn’t seen it, she went away with him. She didn’t return to their compartment until an hour later, dragging the boy with her.

“Well,” she said as she sat down, pulling Neville to sit beside her, “We couldn’t find Trevor anywhere.” Longbottom was a short — not as short as Harry, though — and slightly rotund boy with a round face where you could still see some of his baby fat. He wasn’t fat, but neither was he slim, he was just overweight for his height. Unlike Harry who was underweight for his height and under-height for his age. And the girls were all almost a head taller than he was.

Neville looked on the verge of tears. “Gran and Uncle Algie will be most disappointed with me,” he mumbled.

Harry looked at Hermione. “Did you try accio?”

She frowned back at him. “It doesn’t work on living things, remember?”

Harry frowned back, thinking, “Ah, yes. I forgot.”

“Anyway,” she said, “Neville, this is Harry Potter . . . ,” and she proceeded to introduce everyone.

After an embarrassed stare at Harry’s forehead, Neville turned and stared at the two Weasleys.”You’re both eleven?” he said hesitantly, “Gran never mentioned two sets of twins in the Weasley family.”

Ron’s expression soured a bit farther. “No.” he stated coldly, “She’s ten. The Headmaster talked my parents into letting her start this year instead of next.” Disgruntled, he turned and looked out the window.

Neville turned a surprised gaze on Ginny, who blushed and glared angrily at her brother.

“Blimey!” he said softly, “You must be really good with magic!”

Her blush deepened. “I think it’s only because I can do this,” she said, turning into a pegasus. Discord had apparently fixed their ability to return to their native forms so that their clothes went into the magic instead of staying behind, unchanged. It was almost as if their ability was a reverse animagus — that is, their animagus form was a witch — but indistinguishable from that of other wizards and witches.

Neville’s eyes shot wide open. “You’re an animagus?”

“Ha!” Ron said derisively, turning back to face them, and eager to show his sister couldn’t outdo him. “I can do that, too!” And he did.

Neville’s eyes got even bigger.

The girls all laughed at his expression. Almost in chorus, the three Equestrians said, “We can, too!” as they transformed into their pony selves. He stared at the five technicolour ponies, blinking hard.

Harry sighed and leaned back on the bench seat. This was not going to end well.

Neville turned to Hermione, “Did you know they could . . . .” He stared in disbelief at the black unicorn with bushy-brown mane and tail seated beside him that looked at him guiltily. He blinked once more. Then slid bonelessly to the floor. He had fainted.

Harry sighed deeply. “Aww, come on, girls, that is soo unfair.”

They all laughed at the Neville’s reactions. Even Ron cracked a smile. They all exchanged smirking grins. This year was going to be soo much fun.

Harry held his wand out and frowned. A small short stream of water flowed out and splashed onto Neville’s face.

Gasping in surprise, the boy struggled to sit up on the floor, looking up at Harry. “What happened?” he said. “Did I fall asleep? I dreamed you were all small horses.”

Harry sighed, yet again, “Ponies,” he corrected. He held out his hand to help the other boy onto the seat. “No, you fainted. It wasn’t a dream.” Harry waved his hand and the six brightly-coloured ponies all lifted a hoof and waved at Neville.

Neville swayed at seeing the ponies, but Harry steadied him. “Don’t mind them, they’re all just showing off. We only got our wands last month, the second week of August, actually.”

“That’s right,” added Hermione in a prim tone, “But we have worked our way entirely through the First Year spell-book. It was soo much fun!” She was hopping up and down on her seat. “I can even cast spells through my horn!” She shot a bunch of sparks across the cabin. The others rolled their eyes. Ginny ruffled her wings a bit, but there wasn’t really room to fly because Scootaloo was already hovering near the ceiling, in the middle of the cabin.

“You can talk in that form?” he said faintly. Neville looked close to fainting again. “They’re gonna send me home, for sure, aren’t they?”

The others looked at each other and transformed back, except Scootaloo, this time crossing her legs and sitting vertically in the air, like Rainbow Dash sometimes did.

“No,” Harry said firmly. “The Headmaster told us that once you get your Hogwarts’ letter, you’re in Hogwarts and nobody can take that away from you.”

“Unless you commit some kind of big crime,” Hermione added. “That’s what it says in Hogwarts: A History.”

Neville looked down at the floor, near tears. “But I’m almost a squib, I can barely do any magic. I’ll be the laughingstock of the school. I never did any accidental magic until recently. And then, only once.”

Harry and the Equestrians looked at each other with narrowed eyes. They were intimately familiar with being laughed at. Their ears would have been twitching and tails swishing if they had still been in pony form — Scootaloo’s did, just before she changed back to human form and thumped to the floor. After a moment of shuffling, and an order to “move over,” Neville found himself sandwiched between Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle.

“No, you won’t,” Sweetie Belle said firmly, “We’ll make sure of that.”

“Let’s see your wand,” ordered Hermione.

“It’s my father’s,” he said reverently as he fished it out of a pocket. “He . . . can’t use it . . . anymore.”

Hermione put her hands on her hips, “Well, that’s part of the problem, then!”

Neville looked over at her, outraged.

“Mr. Ollivander, the wand-maker, that is, told us,” she continued lecturing, not noticing his anger, “that the wand chooses the wizard. And that wand chose your father, didn’t it? So unless you are exactly like your father, with nothing from your mother, that wand will never work as well for you as it did for him!” She gave him a triumphant look, arching one eyebrow at her display of knowledge.

“My father . . . ,” he started.

“Is. Not. You,” she interrupted firmly. “That wand did not choose you! And, according to Mr. Ollivander, that wand will never work for you as well as it did your father! And Mr. Ollivander should know, shouldn’t he?”

His defiance crumbled at her words. He looked away and muttered, “Gran will never agree to get me a new wand.”

“Well, then,” said Scootaloo resolutely, “We’ll just have to get you a new wand!” She looked at Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, who nodded back.

“Oh!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle as an idea struck her. She took her trunk out of her pocket, enlarged it, and set it on the floor. She opened it and hopped onto the elevator. “Twilight should be home, I’ll ask her for permission and a hair!”

Neville stared as the girl disappeared into her trunk. He leaned forward and looked inside. “An apartment trunk?” he asked incredulously.

It took only a moment to explain that Harry and the three girls had apartment trunks with an internal floo-network. And that Ginny and Ron had regular student trunks, although Ginny’s was a loaner until her parents bought one for her. (“Nonsense, it’s not charity if it’s a loaner, dear.” Rarity had said. “You are going to buy her a proper trunk next year, anyway, aren’t you? This is merely a loaner until then, my dears,” had been her closing argument to the Weasleys.)

Harry expected that when next year arrived, Rarity would offer to sell them the “used” trunk at a steep discount, much cheaper than they would find elsewhere. (“It’s not charity to sell something at a low price when it’s used!” she would say. “Besides, the store would never buy a used trunk at the price they planned to sell it at. I’m getting rid of the middle-pony by selling it to you for more than he would pay me, and less than what you would pay buying from the store! We both benefit from this, so it can’t be charity, darlings.”)

While they waited for her return, Hermione explained about their animagus forms. “Well, you see, we were all at the Weasleys’ home when this really odd wizard, Dis — OW!” She glared at Apple Bloom for kicking her ankle.

“We DO NOT say his name!” Apple Bloom glared back. “You saw what happened last time. This time he might decide we’d all look good as avocados or chickens!” She shuddered after a quick glance at Scootaloo.

Hermione glared angrily at the other girl, then sighed. “Okay,” she said grudgingly, rubbing her ankle. “This powerful wizard came when these three and Sweetie all said his name. He turned us all into ponies as a joke. Harry, Sweetie Belle, and myself were unicorns, as were the Weasley twins, Fred and George. Ginny, her mother, Scootaloo, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet — they were visiting that day — he transformed into pegasi. Ron and Percy were earth ponies.” She concluded her explanation by turning into a unicorn once more.

“Then he turned us all into pegasi for the rest of the day.” She sighed. “About a week later, Scootaloo managed to figure out how to turn herself back into a Pegasus, so the rest of us tried to do it, too. Took us a couple of days.” She looked at Neville. “So, you see, the only reason we have these forms is because an extremely powerful wizard forced our first-time animagus transformation. At least, that’s what Mr. Weasley says he thinks happened.”

Neville was staring back at her, clearly unsure if she was telling him the truth. He was sure his grandmother would have said something to him if there was a Wizard powerful enough to turn thirteen people into pegasi — well, someone other than Headmaster Dumbledore. Plus, he had never heard of ponies in such bright colours, and unicorns always had a pure-white coat. And of the three unicorns in here, only Sweetie Belle even came close to that colour.

Harry sighed. “It’s true, Neville. That wizard is really powerful. He can warp reality. Back home he once made it rain chocolate milk and turned the clouds into cotton-candy. He’s the God of Chaos. If it screws things up, or he thinks it would be funny, he’s willing to do it.”

Neville turned a disbelieving gaze on Harry.

Harry shrugged.

“I think he’s cool,” Scootaloo said steadfastly. “A bit unpredictable, but cool! Not as cool as Rainbow Dash, but cool, nonetheless.”

The others shifted uncomfortably.

“How about a game of Exploding Snap?” Ginny suggested.

They used Sweetie Belle’s closed trunk as a table-top. Neville was a bit stiff at first, but after the first round he loosened up and soon they were all laughing, even Ron. Scootaloo joined them for the second round.

In the middle of a game, about two hours later, there was a knocking from inside the trunk. They hastily cleared it off and Sweetie Belle hopped out. She transformed back to a girl. “Here,” she said, handing Neville an envelope and a half-meter-long stick. “Twilight wasn’t at her castle, so I had to go to Rarity,” she explained. “And then Rarity insisted we have tea.” She sighed. “That’s what took so long. She was more than happy to help, though, and gave me two hairs. She said she'd take the responsibility. ”

She looked at the stick she had given Neville. “As I was walking back up the trail to get back,” she gave a significant look to Harry and the other two fillies, “one of the workers came over and handed me that cherry-wood stick. He said one of the trees they were moving to a better location in the park had dropped it on his head. He thought, for some reason, that I looked like somepony who could use it.”

They all exchanged puzzled looks. Then Harry said, “Harmony,” and the Equestrians all nodded wisely.

Harry turned to Neville, who was looking at them as if they were all mad. “When we get to Hogwarts, send an owl to Ollivander with that envelope and stick. Tell him the hairs are from a unicorn. Both hairs and wood were freely given by Rarity and Harmony and that you need a new wand. Any excess hair he can keep as payment for the wand.” Harry smiled wryly. “You can tell him that Harry Potter and his girlfriends suggested this.”

The fillies beamed at his declaration, while Ginny looked depressed and Neville surprised.

Neville slowly nodded and carefully put both items in his pocket beside his father’s.

“If you need an owl, you can use any of ours. Hedwyg, my owl, I know would enjoy the work-out.”

With that taken care of, they resumed their game until the next interruption.

Their cabin door slid open. It was the boy from Madam Malkin’s robe shop, and two others. This time, though, he was looking at Harry instead of Hermione or the others.

“Is it true?” he said, scowling. “Everyone is saying that Harry Potter’s in this cabin.” His eyes narrowed a bit, “it’s you, isn’t it?”

Harry said nothing and only tilted his head slightly, looking at the two other boys. They were thickset and did a creditable job of looking menacing. Standing as they did on either side of the pale boy, they rather looked like his boyfriends. That would have been the assumption in Equestria, anyway, from how close they were and slightly behind.

Noticing where Harry was looking, the pale boy rolled his eyes and dismissively said, “Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle.” Puffing up slightly, he pompously, added, “And I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron sniggered, trying to hide it as a cough.

Draco Malfoy raked his eyes over the seated boy at him. “No need to ask who you are,” he said haughtily. “My father told me all about the Weasleys — red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”

Ron’s face turned red, as did Ginny’s, though whether from embarrassment or anger it was difficult to say. Neville was watching with a slight frown.

“You’ll soon find out, Potter,” Draco said as he turned back to Harry, “that some wizarding families are preferable to others.” He gave Harry a stiff smile, as if he wasn’t used to smiling at strangers. “You don’t want to make friends with the wrong sort, do you? I can help you there.” He held out his hand for Harry to shake.

Harry had plenty of experience in dealing with bullies, and Draco fit the bill perfectly, based on their previous encounter at Madam Malkins and his current conduct. Not to mention what the Weasleys had told him and the fillies about the whole pure-blood nonsense. And how the Malfoys, in particular, thought they were better than anyone else.

Harry tilted his head at the boy, not sure what to say, but Apple Bloom beat him to a response.

She snickered. Then she laughed. “Wrong sort,” she said mirthfully to herself, shaking her head. “Harry lives with Princess Twilight Sparkle in a castle. Ar homeland’s rulers, Princesses Celestia and Luna, are sending us to Hogwarts to keep him company. And the God of Chaos likes him,” she said laughingly. “Politically and socially, Ah doubt you could bring anything to the table that even begins to compare.” She snorted. “As fer yer snootiness, Ah bet you can’t track yer pure-blood back more’n a thousand years. Sweetie Bell, Scootaloo, and I can track ours back over six thousand years. Without a single,” She glanced at Ron, “what did you call them? Squabs? And maggles?”

Hermione supplied helpfully, “Squibs and muggles.”

Ron nodded happily, eyes wide with delight at her verbal assault on Draco. Neville’s eyebrows were both arched in surprise.

“Without a single squib or muggle in the family!” She concluded triumphantly.

Draco and his goons stared at her dumbfounded.

“That’s, that’s, impossible!” he finally managed. “Nobody can track their family lineage back that far!”

“We can,” Sweetie Belle said smugly.

“Are you callin’ me a liar?” demanded Apple Bloom, standing and planting her feet firmly.

Draco sneered, looking her up and down. While the large pink bow in her hair was a bit much, she wore custom-fitted robes with gems for buttons. His sneer faded a bit. He glanced at the other girls and Harry, noticing that those three were also wearing custom-fitted, high-quality acromantula-silk robes, much like his own. And theirs had what appeared to be gems for buttons. While the gems were probably fake, the robes showed the wearers were of high-class. At the very least, these four came from extremely wealthy families.

From his expression, it was easy for Harry to imagine the boy asking himself Why had his father never mentioned these girls and their families? Especially if they could trace their pure-blood ancestry that far back!

“No,” he backtracked, “Just that you might be exaggerating a bit.”

Apple Bloom glared at him.

“Apple Bloom,” Harry said quietly, “Recorded history here only goes back about five thousand years.”

“Well, he said he saw mah ancestors planting trees with magic six thousand years ago, so’s I believe him. And so do Princesses Twilight and Celestia. He ain’t got no reason to lie.” She snorted again. “ ’Sides, don’t really matter how long. We know that thar ain’t never been neither those muggles nor squibs in any o’ ar families. Ever.”

She turned back to Draco and narrowed her eyes at him. “Be careful who ya talk down to. Wouldn’t be the first time some nose-in-the-air, self-important, snootie noble got herself bucked into oblivion by talkin’ trash ’bout stuff thay didn’t know.”

Unsure of what was going on, and somewhat put off by the girl’s insistence that the three girls were pure-bloods, Draco took a step back. He narrowed his eyes and said, “I’ll see you at the sorting — that will sort the wheat from the chaff.” He turned and followed his goons as they left the compartment, slamming the door closed behind himself.

There was a moment’s silence.

“Blimey,” Ron said, “That was brill! Took him down a peg, you did!” He bounced happily in his seat as Ginny looked at Apple Bloom with admiration in her eyes.

Harry looked over at the two Weasleys. “I’d rather have a large family and no money, than no family and a lot of money.”

“Although,” Apple Bloom snickered, “a large family with a lot of bits wouldn’t be terrible, either.” She smiled and glanced at the other two fillies. “And we got both, right?” They nodded, agreeing.

Remembering the Apple family reunion, Harry had to agree, as well. He couldn’t imagine having that many relatives. And Apple Bloom had insisted on introducing him and the other two fillies to each and every one of them, saying the four of them were herd-friends.

But he was unsure of why she was including Sweetie and Scoots in that. Neither filly’s family was nearly as large, as far as Harry knew. On the other hand, they now were certainly rich based on what the Goblins said.

He looked out the window at the passing countryside. It was starting to get dark. Almost at the same time, a voice came over the speaker system announcing that they would be arriving soon, and that they should leave their trunks on the train. Harry, Ron, and Neville left to allow Ginny and Hermione privacy to change into their robes. Neville went back to his original compartment to get his robes. Ron took the lazy way out as they stood in the hallway and just slipped his school outer-robes over his regular clothes.

Harry and the fillies had decided to just wear their school robes at the beginning of the day, not that they had much in the way of regular clothes, anyway.

At the station, Harry realized that the giant wizard calling the First Years to follow him, Hagrid was his name Harry later discovered, was the same huge wizard he had seen at the bank. His jovial attitude helped calm the excited students.

Their first sight of the Castle as the boats drifted across the lake was dramatic and beautiful, they agreed. Harry and the fillies took one boat while Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Neville took another. Hagrid finding Trevor, Neville’s toad, was a major relief for the boy when the little fleet docked under the castle. And his cherry-wood stick was tucked away in his robe-pocket with his father’s wand.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder if the Headmaster had shared the knowledge of their animagus forms with Professor McGonagall yet. She did give the seven of them a significant look as she explained how the House system worked. The ghosts were a complete surprise, as such things did not exist in Equestria, or were so rare as to be only legends.

۸- ̬ -۸

46 — You Had Only One Job . . .

Scootaloo was a bit confused at first when Professor McGonagall called out, “Aloo, Scoot.” But her going into Gryffindor wasn’t a surprise to Harry, and was a quick decision by the hat. As she told them later, the hat had said she had no real ambitions, so not Slytherin; studying was a chore, so not Ravenclaw; and while she was fiercely loyal, she was like Rainbow in wanting to nap a lot, so Hufflepuff was out. Her boundless enthusiasm for charging into Cutie Mark Crusading, while completely ignoring any possible dangers, or at least downplaying them, pretty much marked her as Gryffindor material. Naturally, her fellow Cutie Mark Crusaders, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, followed her into the red and gold House. Harry assumed that was because of the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ attitude of charging ahead without a thought.

The hat’s reaction to seeing the monsters they had encountered had been an astounded, “Bloody hell! How are you all still alive?” He had been equally impressed with their origins, and assured her that he would never tell anyone what he learned when sorting students. Although he did say he had never sorted any students from another world like Equus.

That Hermione, with her intense focus on books went to Gryffindor as well, was surprising. But given her admiration for Dumbledore, who was watching over everything from his throne-like chair, and wanting to be in his House, maybe not so unexpected. And having so many of her friends in it already probably was a factor, too.

Harry didn’t know enough about Neville to make a prediction. Neville, however, seemed over-joyed at getting into Gryffindor. On the train, he had predicted he would probably be shuffled into Hufflepuff, which he termed as the House for those that didn’t fit in the others. And that that would greatly disappoint his Gran and Uncle Alfie. Based on the stories the boy had told them on the train, Harry was sure that ‘Uncle Alfie’ would have gotten along just fine with Uncle Vernon. And he had the feeling that he should be able to change a jinx so that it would transfer from a letter to a person without them noticing — such as one that made him confess bad deeds to the wrong people.

Harry Potter’s name brought a profound silence to the hall for a moment, then a burst of loud whispering. Even those who hadn’t paid any attention to the sorting at all were suddenly watching closely. Some even went so far as to stand on their benches to get a better look.

“Well, well, well,” said the hat, a disembodied voice in his head as he sat on the stool. “This is quite the mind you have here. It’s all in here, you know. Your hopes, your ambitions, your potentials. Loyalty to your friends in spades; that would make you a very good Hufflepuff. Wanting to learn all you can about magic; that would be a fine fit for Ravenclaw. And bravery! Oh, my, more than willing to charge ahead of your friends to protect them. That’s a Gryffindor trait, for sure. Your ambition is rather subdued right now, but it is there, so Slytherin is definitely a choice. Yes, Slytherin could help make you great. That House could help you develop to your full potential.”

Harry frowned. “I go with my friends to Gryffindor,” he thought firmly. “I wouldn’t be here without them. They saved my life in more ways than one and I’ll not abandon them.”

“Yes, yes, you do make quite the team, don’t you? I’ve seen their minds — they won’t forsake you simply because you’re in a different House. It might be difficult to adapt, at first, but you and they would flourish. Yes, Slytherin would be exceptionally useful to you.”

Harry and the girls had listened all month to Ron and the twins raging against the Slytherins and all things snake-like. And while the twins spoke of the other houses, it wasn’t always in the kindest words. The stereotypes were very deeply planted in the wizarding society, Harry had discovered while listening at the lunch table as the Quidditch team talked of the other houses. He would not allow himself to be separated from his filly friends. A herd stayed together.

“Gryffindor,” Harry stated firmly. “Gryffindor or I leave.”

“Well, if that’s what it will take, then it better be . . .

“Gryffindor!” shouted the hat out loud.

Later, at the Gryffindor table and surrounded by both his friends and the Quidditch team, for the first time Harry actually felt welcome somewhere. These people accepted him for what he was.

In Equestria, he had friends, but they were different. Or, rather, he was different. Not that most of them knew that. But he did. He knew he didn’t belong. He knew he was a transformed human and not a pony. And those that did know his secret always took a bit of time before they accepted him.

Here, though, they were all just the same as he was, people who could do magic. And having his three filly friends here just made it all that much better! Maybe, just maybe, going to school here instead of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns was a good idea.

The food, when it appeared, caught the fillies by surprise. Not the quantity, or that it had so many meat products. What surprised them were the large amounts of pastries and sweets. Scootaloo dug right into the fish dishes, of course, with great gusto. She almost rivalled Ron at the rate she was putting it away.

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom had already heard the arguments for becoming meat eaters, but they weren’t convinced yet. Harry hadn’t tried any meat dishes at their house in Little Whinging, not wanting to upset his vegetarian friends.

“Humans are omnivores,” Twilight had explained. “And their bodies require certain nutrients, proteins, and minerals that are contained in meat dishes. While you are in human form, you need to eat those things to stay healthy. And the animals here are not anywhere close to sapient.” She had taken a big bite of the bacon Harry had cooked that morning. “Besides, your taste buds have changed and this stuff tastes great!”

Still, it was one thing to know something was good for you intellectually and another to actually enjoy eating it.

The two fillies carefully picked and nibbled at the meat dishes while piling up the pastries and sweets. And commandeering all the vegetables and fruits at their end of the table.

۸- ̬ -۸

Even though they were all tired, and it was quite late by the time they reached the Gryffindor dormitories, Harry and Neville managed to complete the letter to Ollivander. It was after their curfew so heading to the owlery was definitely out of the question. However, Harry went to their dorm window and opened it as the others watched curiously. He leaned out and bellowed, “HEDWYG!”

Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan all looked at each other, shrugged, and looked back at Harry. Ron just grinned.

Harry ducked back into the room as a Snowy White owl glided into the room.

“ ’Cor,” said Dean admiringly, “that one’s a beauty.” The others agreed.

“Here, Hedwyg,” Harry said, tying the shrunken stick and letter to his owl’s leg. “Would you please take this to Ollivander the Wand-maker in London? It’s about a new wand for Neville.”

Hedwyg hooted affirmative, and took off out the window with a stately grace.

They spent a few more minutes talking before they all collapsed into their beds and fell asleep.

۸- ̬ -۸

For Dumbledore, Sunday had been hectic, as it always was. The students had been on their way and the castle had to be ready. The house-elves had been in a frenzy, cleaning anything that didn’t move, and quite a few things that did. One of them popped into his office almost every half-hour to tell him that this or that was now ready for the students and to ask if he had thought of anything else they should be doing. He had even seen one house-elf polishing the stones in the gravel drive up from the gates.

Meanwhile, the professors had been going over their schedules, checking their supplies for any last-minute corrections, and preparing themselves for the onslaught that was to start in the evening.

But now, the students had arrived. He had always looked forward to that moment, and today was no exception. It was his favourite part of arrival day, seeing the looks of wonder on the new students as they followed Professor McGonagall inside the Great Hall. And this year Harry Potter was finally at the school. James and Lilly Potter’s son had finally made it here. Safe and happy.

That he was accompanied by three foreign students, students apparently from Atlantis, was merely icing on Dumbledore’s cake. The girls were clearly powerful, as he had seen when they all mastered the animagus transformation. If the school made a good impression on them, then maybe he could expect more students from that recluse country in attendance.

He had been trying for ten years to rebuild the wizarding society devastated by Voldemort. Trying to instil in his students the concept that they needed to live in peace, both in the wizarding world and with the muggles. Pure-blood sentiments had no place and would severely damage the English wizarding society if they were pursued to their natural conclusion. Giving the pure-bloods special privileges in order to placate them while still being open and welcoming to the half-bloods and muggle-born was the only feasible solution.

Having pure-blood foreigners of great power marrying into English society would put paid to those desperate pure-blood aspirations — these foreigners clearly had no interest in discriminating against anyone based solely on their blood status. All they considered, it seemed, was how people treated each other! They simply didn’t understand what the pure-blood ideologues were trying to establish. Thankfully.

Watching as the girls were sorted into Gryffindor was a bit of a surprise. He had expected them to be separated, with Miss Belle going into Ravenclaw and Miss Bloom going into Hufflepuff. He hadn’t been able to get a proper read on Miss Aloo, she had spent most of her time flying — either as her animagus or on a broom. She probably wasn’t either Slytherin or Ravenclaw, based on what Arthur had told him.

As he had hoped, Harry went into Gryffindor, not that Dumbledore expected anything else after his girl friends had gone into it. Professor McGonagall was especially happy at seeing that, although she did a credible job of hiding that fact from the watching students.

After delivering his normal end-of-Welcoming-Feast speech, with the required additions, he headed back to his chambers. His night was not yet done.

He apparated to end of the Privet Drive and walked leisurely to number Four, using his Put-Outer to remain hidden in the shadows. No one was home. He shrugged, they were probably out for the evening. He didn’t notice the two women in those shadows, watching him intently.

It took only a moment to remove his fidelius charm from the house. Now that the boy was at Hogwarts, it wasn’t needed to hide him. And it would cause problems for the boy at school if he left it intact, as others would ignore the boy or forget he was there moments after he left a class. His mother’s protection on the house would suffice.

He turned, retraced his steps, and apparated back to his office in Hogwarts.

And was jolted by the noise — a piercing whistle, a ringing bell, and a hooting horn. He started in disbelief.

His Harry Potter monitors were going crazy, and what they were showing defied imagination. Harry Potter was here — and quite happy to be here, he knew — and yet the metronome was solid black instead of neutral grey, with the indicator wand as far to the left as it could get. It was actually stopped from being horizontal only because the knick-knack beside, a knight on a charger with white cotton-like smoke coming from its nose, prevented it. According to the monitor, Harry was miserable to the point of considering suicide.

The second monitor, the smoker, blew a steady column of thick black smoke that almost reached the ceiling and its boiler and chimney were a solid black. Harry was in perfect health, yet the trinket showed the boy to be in poor health, at near starvation levels, and suffering from broken bones and injured organs.

The worst, though, was the spinner, the one that monitored the protection provided to the Dursley home by Lily’s love, and fostered by her sister. That one was stopped dead and completely black. The protective charm had failed entirely.

Almost as an afterthought, he looked at the last two. The stop-light was still green, showing that no one was trying to separate Harry from the Dursleys, but there was one tiny thin band of black from several weeks ago. The globe monitoring the fidelius charm on Harry was clear, as it should be, because he had just cancelled the charm, himself.

This was a catastrophe — his mother’s protection on the Dursley home had collapsed. How could that have happened?

Well, at least the boy was safe here at Hogwarts . . . the Headmaster stiffened. “Skiffy!” he called.

“Skiffy is here, Master Dumbledore,” came the almost immediate response from his Hogwarts’ personal house-elf.

Dumbledore turned to him. “Is Harry Potter in bed?”

“Skiffy will check,” said the little creature before disappearing with a POP. Almost immediately, he returned. The old wizard paused only long enough to hear the house-elf say, “Yes, Master Dumbledore . . . ,” before disapparating away, back to the Dursleys. He missed the rest of the Skiffy’s response, “. . . Master Potter be in his bed.”

The boy was safe, so he needed to see what had happened at the Dursleys. He would decipher why the other monitoring spells were malfunctioning when he returned.

Minutes later, wand in hand, he was walking briskly up Privet Drive, his robes billowing in his wake. He would have used his Put-Outer to douse the street lights, but he was in too much of a hurry to bother. He was soo intent on getting to the Dursley house at the other end of the street that he again failed to notice that two women watched him just as intently, one on each side of the street.

Dumbledore was in such a hurry that he cut across several lawns to shorten the distance instead of following the pavement. He peered at the house closely. It gave off the air of a house unlived-in for a number of weeks. The grass was taller than the neighbours and the bushes in front looked a bit neglected. Which it should, if the Dursleys had been gone for over a month. Now that he thought about it, the Dursleys should be at home this late at night. Tomorrow was, after all, a normal school day and their child needed his rest.

He rang the doorbell and waited. He rang it again. Nothing stirred in the house. He knocked, loudly. Still nothing stirred. He looked around and didn’t see anyone watching from the surrounding houses. He pointed his wand at the door and whispered, homenum revelio. He frowned as the spell revealed that no one was in the house. Surely the Dursleys would have returned from their vacation by now, if only to ensure that their son was in school on time. He quickly unlocked the door with a spell and stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind himself.

The watchers, one now across the street from number Four and the other maintaining her post, exchanged frustrated looks. The one across the street ran up to the front windows and peeked inside.

The old wizard looked around the entry, then cast another spell. This one blacked the windows so no one could observe him. A quick lumos let him see clearly the mound of clothes thrown on the sitting-room floor and the open door of the cupboard under the stairs. Puzzled, he walked over and looked inside.

“Oh, my,” was all he could say as he took in the childish scrawl that said “Harry’s Room” on the wall, the papers tacked around it, the marks and stains on the wall clearly defining where a cot had been placed, and the dirty stained floor that hadn’t been cleaned in a decade. He straightened and leaned against the door frame. “How could you? He’s your nephew!” he said softly, looking around the spotless sitting-room with its pictures that showed a very fat child, a very overweight man, and a skinny woman with a face that reminded him of a horse. Nowhere in sight was there a picture that showed Harry. And the fat child would never have been able to fit inside that tiny cupboard.

With heavy steps, the wizard slowly made his way up the stairs. He looked in the first bedroom, a messy child’s room filled with the normal detritus of discarded clothes and toys. The sign on its door, in a fancy script on a bronze plaque, said Dudley’s Room. The second, smaller, room was filled entirely with what could only be broken toys and equipment, all looking quite expensive-looking. There was a sign on its door, like the first, that said, Dudley’s Room. The third bedroom, larger than the second one, was even more pristine than the sitting-room. It had a neat bed, bedside table, dresser, and armchair. All were tastefully arranged and colour-coordinated with the walls and framed pictures. It looked more like a furniture showroom than a room someone lived in. Obviously, this was a guest room. There was no sign on its door.

The final door led to a much larger room, the parents’ bedroom, he surmised, based on the pictures of both Dursleys when they were much younger that were displayed on the two bedside tables. He slowly walked down the stairs shaking his head, “Do you not realize what you have done?” he asked the absent family.

He stared into the sitting-room, again. A typical middle-class home. The furnishings were fairly new, the rug and curtains in decent shape. Nothing looked either worn or seriously used. A well-cared-for home, a model of what one might expect a normal muggle family to have and live in. A family of three, with a father, mother, and child. No one would ever suspect that another child lived there, as well.

Only the cupboard under the stairs was evidence otherwise. That was the only suggestion that things were not as they appeared on the surface. That maybe this perfect home wasn’t nearly as perfect as the owners wanted it to appear. And what it suggested about Harry’s relationship with his relatives was ugly, indeed.

He needed to know. He had to know what had happened here. He thought a moment, then cast the point-me spell. They were quite some distance away, he discovered. He frowned, thinking.

Arabella and Minerva had mentioned that the Dursley’s were away since the beginning of August, staying at one of a chain of places called the Queen’s Resort. That had explained why Harry was staying with the Atlanteans.

He remembered Arabella mentioning something about the Dursleys being in Woking. He had never been there. He sighed, and disapparated back to Hogwarts for a broom.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Dawn was still hours away when he landed his broom on the outskirts of the town. He cast a notice-me-not on himself, recast the point-me spell, then started walking. Half-an-hour later he was standing in front of the local constabulary building, a two-story, sturdy, brick building separated from the pavement by an iron railing and a brick-paved empty-space wider than the pavement. He shook his head ruefully, a Queen’s Resort, indeed! Muggles certainly had a dry wit at times. He slowly made his way inside to an officer at a desk inside.

“Excuse me,” he said, eyes twinkling, “can you tell me if you have a Mr. or Mrs. Dursley here?” With the help of a small spell, the officer was more than willing to direct him to the cell in which they held Mrs. Dursley. The wizard sent the man back to his desk with a quiet command and an obliviate. He would ignore all sounds and flashes of light he might see from the holding area for the next half-hour.

“Petunia,” Dumbledore said softly, after opening the door and sending a gentle rennervate. There was no reason, yet, to be stern. There still might be a reasonable explanation.

She stirred, blinked, and looked over at him blearily. She ran a hand through her hair as she sat up and stared at him crossly. “Well, it’s about time you got here! Straighten out this mess. Get us out of here!”

He shook his head regretfully as he stepped closer. She stood up to face him, her defiance on the border of turning into fear.

He stared into her eyes. For a brief moment, he was glad he hadn’t managed to put through that law making it illegal to legilimens a muggle.

He sighed disappointedly.

It was all there.

How they had treated Harry. Or, rather, mistreated the boy. It had started with resentment, the sister Petunia had resented, the one who had gotten all the attention, all the praise, once she had left for Hogwarts. The sister that had had the audacity to die and burden her child onto Petunia’s already struggling family. Dudley had been a difficult child, Harry had added to her problems.

He shook his head sadly. He hadn’t considered the strain an additional child might have on the new family. He should have arranged for a stipend to ease their burden.

So she had started to ignore him in favour of her own child. Taking her frustrations out on the boy when he did anything she didn’t like. Her husband had already disliked both Lily and her husband, and it took very little for him to transfer that dislike to Harry. Everything had started to slide downhill for the boy as his relatives took out their frustrations with Dudley, and Vernon’s office, on Harry.

Year after year, Harry’s treatment had gotten worse. Gradually, her son had picked up on his parents’ attitude, and things escalated as he discovered he could do anything he wanted to Harry without fear of retribution. The punishments increased in scale and length as the boy’s magical accidents, either real or imagined — attacks as the Dursleys characterized them — had manifested.

He noted with some surprise that the boy had disappeared from their home well over a year ago. He briefly wondered how the Atlanteans had found him — perhaps, instead of a communications mirror, there had been an emergency port-key and he had accidentally triggered it.

In any case, clearly, Harry had run away, hence none of the spells had warned him the boy was no longer at the Dursleys — he had left voluntarily and not been forced by a wizard or muggle. Harry could have returned at any time, apparently. He had simply never wanted to.

Not that Dumbledore could blame him for that. He, himself, would have fled a family that treated him so shabbily. Dumbledore understood that parents had to be strict with their children, and punishments should vary with the seriousness of the misdeeds that prompted them.

Albus’ own father had never been one to “spare the rod” when the occasion demanded he apply it. But what they had subjected Harry to was far from merely being strict, and crossed over into out-right cruelty. Yes, he, too, would have fled.

The only reason the spells hadn’t collapsed years ago was that Petunia had accepted the boy into her house. That she hadn’t tossed him out, or completely turned her back on him. And that the boy had kept trying to earn her love and acceptance.

Dumbledore had never thought the boy would simply run away. And, thus, he hadn’t bothered to put a charm on Harry to either advise him that Harry had left or to prevent Harry from doing that. Or a charm to prevent the Petunia from simply abandoning the boy, which, he now knew, she had contemplated several times.

“Really, Petunia. You only had to do one thing, just one job: take care of the boy for your sister,” he said shaking his head in resignation. “Your sister! Your own flesh-and-blood!” He sighed. Getting angry now would solve nothing. The Dursleys had planted the seeds of their own destruction, now they would reap the results.

That explained the failure of the protection charm around their house. Without Harry there to provide the impetus, what little love she had for her sister’s son had fallen away. Neglected and forgotten in her eagerness and desire to care only for her husband and son, without any distractions. It had taken this long for the residual magic to fade away. Or, perhaps, when he had removed the fidelius it had exhausted what little magic that had remained at the home. It could even be that the protective charm on the house had collapsed months, or years, ago and the fidelius, for whatever reason, had prevented him from detecting its collapse.

He shook his head wearily. Not even Mrs. Figg had been able to spot anything wrong — but she was there simply to keep a watch out for wizards and witches who might be looking for Harry. Watching over Harry at times had been merely a happy happenstance. After all, who would think an aunt and uncle would treat their nephew so terribly? It was a failing of his, to expect people to be better than they really were.

The Dursleys only allowed her to see what they wanted her to see. They always made sure Harry was in good condition when they sent him over to her while they took their out-of-town trips and vacations. Months would pass without her seeing the boy, especially in the winter when children tended to stay inside. Plus, they had certainly threatened the boy enough to keep him from saying anything that might reveal the conditions he suffered under at their house when he did meet with Arabella.

And ever since last summer they had ignored Arabella. She had called them several times, since them. Her excuse had been to wonder if everything was alright — she did, after all, really like the little boy. She had pretended to want to know if they had somehow found someone else willing to babysit the boy for the ridiculously low rate she charged. They had put her off saying they had taken the boy with them, instead, now that he was older. When she mentioned not seeing him around the neighbourhood, they had simply said he was lazy and preferred to loaf around in his room, unlike their dear Dudley, a vigorous child who enjoyed the outdoors. Or that he had misbehaved and they were keeping him in his room as punishment. There was no way she could have suspected they were lying through their teeth, and that Harry had run away.

He really should have checked up on the boy as Minerva had insisted all these years. If he had, he might have been able to ameliorate their dislike for Harry into tolerance. At the very least he could have ensured the boy got regular healthy meals, proper clothes, and that their whale of a son didn’t use him for a punching bag. He shook his head sadly. There was nothing more to say or do here.

۸-ꞈ-۸

47 — Uh . . . Oops?

Dumbledore knew he would have to come up with a way to protect the boy next summer. Perhaps he could persuade Arthur to take the boy in for the summer? He could re-establish the fidelius at the end of the school year. Set it so that only the Weasley family knew he was staying with them. To everyone else, he would be an unseen shadow at their home. And if he was recognized at the Alley? Not an issue, the spell would prevent anyone from realizing Harry was with the Weasleys in the Alley, even if they were holding his hands. Yes. That would work nicely.

And the Atlanteans would make a perfect decoy. He could spread the rumour that Harry was with them. By that time, everyone would know that the foreigners were really from Atlantis. And it was highly unlikely that the Death Eaters would be able to find it. After all, for two thousand years more powerful wizards than they had devoted their lives to searching for the elusive island, and failed. And if they did manage the impossible, well, so what? Harry wasn’t there, anyway!

Shaking his head sadly, he cast a finite incantatem, cancelling the charms on Petunia that had helped protect the boy, and the Dursleys, from the Death Eaters. As well as the one that prevented anyone from interfering with the Dursleys guardianship of Harry. They certainly were not worthy of such a responsibility. He would have to find someone else.

Already working on plans of what to do next, and wondering how he would explain what had happened to Minerva and Harry, he turned around and started for the cell door.

“Wait!” she said. “Aren’t you going to do anything? We did what you wanted, we took the ungrateful little brat in. As hard as it was, we stretched our budget to include him. We raised and kept him safe, as you wanted.”

He turned back to her. “My dear,” he said quietly, “I needed you to love your sister’s son at least a little bit to maintain the protective charm I placed on your home. The little scraps you gave him sufficed, barely. However, when he left you, you forgot about him. The charm is gone now, it collapsed entirely tonight. That’s why I am here — to find out why. Sadly, it can’t be rebuilt. I will have to do something else, now.”

She stared at him with an uncomprehending frown that was slowly making its way to horror.

“I don’t need you anymore,” he concluded.

He looked around her cell. “Rather poetic justice, I think, that you are in here, now.” He sighed. “But at least they give you three good meals a day. And clothes that fit. And they don’t beat you, no matter how much you might deserve it, completely the opposite of how you treated your nephew.” He turned again, walked out the door, and stopped, turning to face her. “You and your husband really shouldn’t have been so abusive towards the officials when they stopped by. Otherwise we could have had this conversation at your home.” He stepped back and let the door close with a click. He looked at her one last time through the tiny window in the door.

“NO! WAIT!” she screamed, throwing herself against the door and pounding on it. “YOU CAN’T LEAVE US IN HERE! WHO’LL TAKE CARE OF MY DUDDERS?” She started kicking the door. “COME BACK HERE! YOU PROMISED TO HELP US IF WE NEEDED IT!”

He looked at her through the closed door. He cast a quick spell and his voice came through for her to hear easily. “Remember, my dear, you can’t mention magic to anyone. Or you might end up in Azkaban, the wizarding prison.” He looked around the facility. “It isn’t nearly as nice as this. Muggles don’t do very well in it. You, your husband, and your son would probably go insane in a month. And then die.”

She stepped back from the door, staring at him in horror.

He gave her a sad smile and walked away.

“NOOOOO!” he heard faintly through the door.

He really should have listened to Minerva all those years ago. She was going to be livid! And, no doubt, shirty for a very long time.

He wondered if there was anything he could do for Harry to begin to make up for that horrible mistake. And how to prevent that from looking as if he were giving the-boy-who-lived special treatment when he and the boy knew it was an apology.

۸-ꞈ-۸

The sky was just brightening with the dawn as he sipped at his tea. He studied the three monitoring devices, now on his desk, and looked at his notes from ten years ago. After study, he could see his mistake, now. His modified fidelius had held back the results of the monitoring spells until he had cancelled it. Then the devices had been overloaded as the negative signals, trapped by the fidelius, had crashed into them, overwhelming them and compressing ten years of results into a single display.

And the charm to prevent interference with the Dursleys’ custody of Harry? It had backfired in the worst possible way. Arabella would be devastated when he told her, if she didn’t realize it herself when she woke up this morning. His cancelling that charm on Petunia would allow her to realize what she hadn’t done.

Arabella hadn’t known why the boy was with the Dursleys, just that they were his closest relatives. So, if she had noticed anything wrong with the Dursleys’ treatment of the boy, she would have reported it to Dumbledore with the intent that he take the boy from the Dursleys. The charm against anyone interfering would have kicked in and made her delay saying anything, or even make her forget what had disturbed her in the first place. She could even have seen the Dursleys beating the boy, and the magic would have made her forget all about it.

If she could have, Arabella would have reported the Dursley’s neglect and abuse. She would have done so with the intent that Dumbledore save the boy, and put him somewhere else. That Dumbledore interfere with the Dursleys’ custody of Harry.

Dumbledore’s use of Harry’s mother’s protection on the home had required he remain there. Thus, Dumbledore’s only recourse would have been to modify the Dursleys’ behaviour instead of removing him. But Dumbledore’s plans didn’t matter to the magic, it was acting on her intent, not his. And he hadn’t had any knowledge that would even have let him form an intent to do anything.

He really should have told her why Harry was with his relatives and no one else.

And the Dursleys’ arrest? She hadn’t seen it herself as she was still recovering from her broken leg injury earlier that summer. Getting around on crutches was difficult for an old woman such as herself. But the rumour mill had been wild, she had told him, claiming they were arrested, that they had fled the bobbies, that it was all a put-up for some telly show. All she knew for sure was that they were staying someplace called the Queen’s Resort at Woking, apparently one of a chain of resorts across England. And, if she had known that the Dursleys had been arrested, her intent in telling Dumbledore would have been for him to take Harry away from the Dursleys as unfit to care for him — they had been arrested, after all — and put him with someone else.

And, as a result, the modified fidelius would have prevented her from telling Dumbledore the truth about the Dursleys’ situation.

The rumours she did report were only a bit more exaggerated than others that tended to circulate in Little Whinging, where the art of back-stabbing your neighbour was apparently a popular past-time. And muggle-born children with magic tended to make their neighbours suspicious as the neighbours never understood some of the odd things they saw and heard. Thus many of the wild rumours about Harry she had relayed to him over the years he had written off as exaggerations, or even complete fabrications, by ignorant muggles.

No son of James and Lily could be a vandal, thief, or thug. That Harry could be untrustworthy was simply ludicrous. A prankster, maybe. But the rumours hadn’t mentioned pranks, not even to say that he had called them that as a defense.

Harry had been staying with the Atlanteans at the moment the Dursleys had been apprehended, as Dumbledore now knew — and the charms he had placed on the Dursleys hadn’t reacted. The constables hadn’t been trying to take Harry away from his guardians, they had been trying to find the boy.

Plus, Harry hadn’t seemed the least bit concerned about his relatives. He had been neither happy nor sad at their absence from Privet Drive. Poor Professor McGonagall hadn’t had reason to suspect anything was amiss.

Dumbledore had never placed any monitors on the Dursleys themselves, so he hadn’t a clue anything wasn’t as it should be with them. He had just assumed they had placed Harry with some friends while they went on vacation, as they had done with Arabella. And his own charms had worked against him learning the truth.

And then, there was the solicitor offering to buy Arabella’s house. The man had said he represented a firm that was planning a series of apartment building in the area. She had flatly refused, saying she couldn’t leave the Dursleys’ in the lurch without a babysitter, and claiming to be a good friend of the family.

She had asked about the Dursley’s though, to see if they had been approached. The solicitor had told her the Dursleys were not at home, and thus he hadn’t discussed anything with them. He assured her that when he did talk with the Dursleys at number Four Privet Drive, when they returned from their vacation, that he would also contact her to give her their decision. And asked her to contact the agency if she changed her mind in the meantime.

Knowing that the Dursleys were not selling, and that they were now on a vacation at one of the “Queen’s Resorts” — he snorted — she had said no more of the matter to Dumbledore. Although, now, there was no reason for her to remain in Little Whinging unless she so chose. He would leave the choice in her hands.

As for Harry? Dumbledore would have to redesign his fidelius modification to allow his charms to work properly so he could be kept safe next summer.

Or, just cast a normal fidelius on The Burrow and rely on verbal reports from Arthur, with regular visits to check on Harry himself. He could even send Minerva under the guise of discussing the Weasley boys’ exploits, and the options for the next school year. She wouldn’t mind seeing Harry occasionally in the summer, he was sure. And any Death Eaters would trigger his alarms.

One course of action was a headache of spell crafting and exhaustive spell casting, the other a headache of lost time in his schedule. Although, truthfully, the time spent visiting the Weasley’s was probably more productive in the long run than redoing his complicated spell-casting. It might even take less time, in total.

He grimaced. And Minerva was going to be furious! He’d be lucky if she didn’t start hexing him in the Great Hall at dinner the moment she saw him.

۸-ꞈ-۸

“AAAAH!” came the surprised cry, “What are you doing in here?” Dean said loudly.

“Gettin’ Harry, of course,” said Apple Bloom.

Morning already. Harry groaned and carefully cracked his eyelids open. Standing beside his bed were all five girls, the three fillies, Hermione, and Ginny. Harry said a quick prayer of thanks that the fillies were dressed. Dean’s yell had had him half-convinced they had shown up naked, in spite of his continuous entreaties for them to dress before leaving their room in Little Whinging. Although, he imagined, if they had been naked there probably would have been a great deal more yelling. He attributed their being dressed to Hermione’s presence. He doubted she would have let them leave their dorm room unclothed.

Assuming, of course, that the three hadn’t all just piled into one of their two apartment trunks and slept in the giant bed each one contained.

Harry stared at them blearily. “I’ll meet you in the common room,” he said.

They nodded, turned, and trooped out of the room and down the stairs. Harry could track their progress by the astonished exclamations of the other boys in the dorm as they encountered or saw the girls on the stairs. Harry buried his head under his pillow.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Seamus half-shouted. “How did they get in?”

Ron snickered, “They used Harry’s apartment trunk,” he explained, climbing out of his bed and starting for the First Year’s boys’ communal bathroom. The past month of early arrivals by the Atlanteans and Hermione at his home had broken him of the habit of sleeping in — there was just too much fun stuff going on to allow that. “The girls’ trunks and his are all interconnected with an internal floo-system, remember?”

There was a moment’s silence as the others digested his information, then an “Oh, that's right,” from Neville.

“Which means more room for us in the bathroom as he has one of his own,” Ron concluded as he left the room. Harry frowned. He wasn’t sure, but there might have been a trace of jealousy in the other boy’s tone. He sighed. They hadn’t wanted to become obscenely rich, they had just wanted some spending bits for school! He had explained that to the Weasley siblings last month. He got the feeling they hadn’t believed him that gems were that easy to find.

After promising the others a trunk tour after classes, they quickly split up to wash up and got dressed. Soon enough, they were meeting up in the common room with the rest of the Gryffindor First Years.

The girls were grouped around the two Quidditch girls. “Thanks for letting us borrow you apartment trunk, Sweetie Belle, that giant tub is just fantastic! The bubbling hot water was perfect for a soak,” he heard Alicia say as he walked up. “I almost slept in it last night.”

“Eh, not a problem. I’ll just move my things into Scoot’s trunk and you girls can borrow mine until the end of the year. And there’s plenty of room in Scoot’s for us to share the tub.”

The two older witches hugged her, offering profuse thanks.

Harry noticed that Hermione and Ginny were blushing for some reason. The muggle-born and half-blood girls in the common room were looking at each other and mouthing the words “giant tub?” and staring at the two chasers and the fillies with evaluating expressions.

The trip to the dining hall for breakfast was easier to understand now that they weren’t almost falling asleep on their feet. And especially because their guides went out of their way to point out easy-to-remember landmarks at key junctures. The older witches were especially helpful. Not unexpected, Harry thought. The possible reward of access to a giant tub simply for being nice to the Firsties was a powerful incentive. Showers were adequate, but nothing soothed tired muscles or a fried brain better than soaking in a giant tub of hot water, experience had taught him.

Although the tub he had used had been a metal one out behind the Apple barn, with the three fillies, and heated by his and Sweetie Belle’s combined efforts at a fire spell. They had gotten quite good at that, actually.

It was interesting to see how different the wizards’ approach to magic was than the ponies. The ponies tended to use non-specific spells for a myriad of uses, whereas the wizards had dozens of specific spells that used less magic each.

Like the levitation spell that unicorns used. They used it for everything that involved lifting. The wizards, on the other hand, had a spell for lifting straight up, a spell for lifting dishes off the table into the sink, a spell for lifting and moving furniture, and so forth. There had to be dozens of spells to learn to accomplish that one action in an equal number of circumstances. Each used less magic than simply grabbing a thing in your magic and hefting it around, but required much more study to master.

Breakfast, Harry saw as they entered the Great Hall, was another table-filling bonanza of pastries and sweets. Not to mention eggs, bangers, bacon, and steaks. Apple Bloom quickly grabbed a platter of bacon and divided it up into quarters, filling their plates and Harry’s — bacon, it seemed, was a favourite no matter your species. Harry divvied up a platter of pancakes for them. Sweetie Belle poured the pumpkin juice. Scootaloo piled their plates with chocolate covered donuts. The other Gryffindor First Years — and the Quidditch team, all of whom had chosen to sit with their new friends — stared at the remarkably quick and seemingly automatic division of labour. And then quickly filled their own plates while there was still something left.

Harry was surprised at just how much of his three plates he was able to pack away. He stuffed his leftover bacon and donuts, wrapped in a napkin, into one of his pockets. What he didn’t eat as snacks he could store in his trunk’s kitchen. Grinning, the fillies followed suit, leaving their section of the table almost completely empty of food.

Harry leaned back on his bench seat and saw Professor McGonagall walking down the aisle handing out sheets of paper. Seeing where he was looking, Alicia said, “Our schedules for the next year,” before returning to her conversation with “George.”

McGonagall gave the group an odd look when she got to them. Apparently, it was unusual for the Third Year students to sit with First Years. The occasional family member might do that, as the twins had told them back at the Weasley homestead, but for almost all of those two year-cohorts to sit together was most remarkable.

Harry saw that the First Year schedule was rather simple. Today they had History of Magic after breakfast, then Charms until lunch, both with the Hufflepuffs. After lunch came Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, both with the Ravenclaws. That left them from three o’clock on as their “free” time. Tuesday through Thursday followed the same schedule except Herbology with the Hufflepuffs replaced History of Magic. And Wednesday night was their Astronomy class. Their only class on Friday was Double Potions with the Slytherins, and it took all morning.

Then the mail arrived. Harry had quite a shock as well over a hundred owls suddenly streamed into the Great Hall through a series of windows set high against the ceiling. He stared as they circled the tables and looked for their owners. As soon as one found his owner, or recipient, he swooped down and dropped the letter or package onto the student’s lap. Or their breakfast plate if the student in question wasn’t fast enough to scoot back or make room on the table.

Harry noted with distaste a few feathers fluttering down, and quickly cast a shield spell over his and the girls’ portion of the table. The fillies quickly followed suit, covering the entire First Years’ section of the table.

Currently, their spells weren’t very powerful, but the four spells were more than enough to keep their food from being contaminated, and the feathers out of their hair. They would get better at it the more they practised. And it looked like they would be doing it daily. The Third Year students looked startled at what the Firsties had done, but quickly followed suit.

Harry shook his head. Hadn’t anyone ever thought of doing that before now? He couldn’t believe it. More likely, if anyone had thought of it, they only bothered to protect themselves.

۸- ̫ -۸

Harry found himself the uncomfortable focus of much attention, “Look! There he is!”

“Is that really him?”

“Can you see his scar?”

“Wonder where he’s been all this time.”

Whispers followed him everywhere. Students stopping in the corridors and standing on tiptoes, or doubling back to follow him just so they could stare at him. Others delaying going into their classes to watch him walk by. It made him very uncomfortable as old paranoias instilled by his relatives came into play again — people noticing him was bad, people noticing him led to trouble. He felt himself shrinking down, slumping his shoulders.

The girls saw the stares and Harry’s reaction, and closed up around him. They glared at the offending students. The other Gryffindors picked up on it, too, and grouped around him, as well. And while that made him feel better that they were close, it did make it more difficult to concentrate on learning his way to his classes. And being crowded as a human brought up another series of ingrained reflexes. As a pony he had learned to welcome, in the fillies case, close contact while walking, standing, or sitting. Others he could at least tolerate. But as a human, such close contact, even with the fillies, made it was just awkward and he found himself flinching at those involuntary bumps.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Watching Professor Binns, who had a wrinkled turtle-like face and a lower body that trailed off into nothing, float through the wall and immediately start his lecture was a bit startling. Ten minutes later, Scootaloo spoke up when he paused in his presentation. “Professor Binns? What’s it like being dead? Is it interesting?”

The translucent wizard stared at her.

“I mean, we don’t have ghosts where we come from and I would think you would find it much more interesting to go on rather than continue teaching history as a ghost as you have for the last hundred years. Or don’t you know you’re dead?”

Sweetie Belle elbowed Scootaloo and hissed, “Be quiet!” at her.

The ghost stared at her blankly. “Hundred years?” he said in a monotone.

“Yes, sir,” she said, “It is currently . . .” she glanced around uncertainly, “uh, 1991?”

He stared at her a bit longer. “Ex-traordinary,” he said, and then abruptly resumed his lecture. The First Years exchanged glances, then went back to doodling on their parchments or making vague attempts at writing down what he was saying. His vacuum-cleaner dull voice did not inspire anyone into really paying him any attention. That he didn’t seem to even notice them, didn’t help.

Harry noticed several students giving Scootaloo and Apple Bloom curious looks as the fillies held their quills in their mouths and took sporadic notes. Harry sighed. They probably thought the fillies were nervously chewing on their quills. He had tried to teach them how to write with their hands, but they hadn’t picked it up, yet. On the other hand, he would probably just end up giving them copies of his notes. Extensive and complete notes, as Twilight had drilled into him over the last year.

“You can never have too detailed notes, Harry,” she had said. “The way to the top of the class is to have superior notes.” And then she had read his school notes every evening, asking questions for clarification. The answers to which he had to add to the notes. And if he had questions, they looked up the answers in the library and added those to his notes. Harry had learned how to rapidly take accurate and complete lecture notes.

It had been quite odd, at first, as no one had ever cared about his school work. Not even his primary school teachers had seemed to care, except to single him out for criticism. That someone, somepony, actually cared had been a surprise. And while he had grumbled at all the extra work she made him do, he really liked it when she praised his work. And the pay-off in high grades on tests had been gratifying, as well. Not to mention the celebratory dinners with lots of cake.

After ten minutes, and as he said, “The Goblin Rebellion of seventeen . . . ,” Professor Binns stopped and looked over at Scootaloo. “Dead, you say?”

Startled, she nodded and said, “Yes, sir. We were told you fell asleep in front of the staff-room fireplace a hundred years ago, got up the next morning to teach, and left your body behind.”

“Extraordinary.” He stared at her blankly for several moments and then started again, “. . . fifty-two brought about . . . .”

Five minutes later, he stopped again and looked at Scootaloo. “Am I really dead?”

Scootaloo had been most of the way to falling asleep and chirped sharply at the sudden attention, then said, “Uh, yes, sir.”

He stared at her intently. “Are you sure?”

She glanced at Harry and her other two friends. “Uh, yes, sir. Quite sure. We can see through you.”

“You can, can you?” He glanced down at his ghostly arms, frowning.

“Yes, sir,” came a chorus of other students, intrigued by what they were hearing. It was certainly more entertaining than the Goblin Rebellion he had been droning on about.

“Ex-traordinary.” He frowned as he looked around the classroom. “. . . due to the blatant mismanagement by Minister for Magic, Albert Boot, . . .” he said, and continued his lecture.

After five minutes, he stopped again. “You are sure I’m dead?”

Most of the class answered this time, all in the affirmative. Hermione added, “You’re even floating in the middle of your podium.”

“Extraordinary!” he said looking down. He looked back up and a smile slowly made its way across his wrinkled and turtle-like face. He seemed to straighten up a bit, and his eyes lost their blank million-mile stare. He looked around the class and cleared his throat. “I do believe,” he said, slowly and still in his vacuum-cleaner dull voice, “that school is out.” He licked his lips, and smiled, and said in a slightly louder voice, one that almost could be said to have emotion in it, “In fact, I think school’s out forever. School’s not out for summer. School’s out completely!” His smile grew broader as he added, “For me, that is.”

He looked up at the far corner at the back of the room and grinned.

The class watched as he started floating in that direction, with students dodging out of his way as he went right through their desks and chairs. When he reached the corner he seemed to suddenly zoom up and disappear. A faint, joyful laugh reached them just before he completely disappeared.

Everyone in the now quiet class exchanged looks.

“Um. What do we do now?” asked Hermione, “There’s still twenty minutes left in class.”

“I suppose we should tell someone,” said Neville.

“Maybe no one will notice?” suggested Scootaloo.

Nobody believed that.

“Who should we tell?”

“Does anyone know how to get to the Headmaster’s Office?”

Nobody did.

“Maybe we should tell our next professor what happened?”

“Well, we might as well head there. There’s only about fifteen minutes left, now, anyway. At least we don’t have to worry about being late to the next class,” Dean said.

۸- ̰ -۸

48 — Dangerous? You’re Kidding, Right?

The Ravenclaws and Slytherins leaving their Charms class were puzzled that the entire Gryffindor and Hufflepuff First-year cohorts were waiting. Not only were they there already, but most were sitting and had clearly been waiting for some time.

Draco, yet again flanked by his pals Crabbe and Goyle, gave Harry and the fillies a long look before sneering and stalking away.

After most of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws had left, Harry and the fillies went in, with Scootaloo trying to hang back and pretend she didn’t know what was going on. Hermione and Ginny managed to stay just far enough back that they could escape notice as they headed for chairs.

Professor Flitwick was a tiny little wizard who stood on his desk, with a staggered pile of books stacked beside it to form a convenient staircase.

Harry frowned, wondering why he hadn’t just made a regular staircase and platform instead of obviously making do with the materials at hand. He had been here several years and that should have been more than enough time to customize the arrangement to his satisfaction. Maybe those books were by authors he disliked?

From her expression, Hermione was more than a little offended to see that someone would defile books so far as to actually walk on them — and reduce them to the level of mere flooring. That it was a professor doing so merely increased the depth of disrespect displayed to those undeserving tomes. Harry shuddered to think how Twilight would react to such a desecration of holy objects.

The professor was surprised to see his next class start filing in almost before the previous one left. “Yes?” he said to the four students as they came up to his desk. “Can I help you?”

Apple Bloom pushed Scootaloo to the forefront. Scootaloo had on her innocent face, trying to give the impression she was just an innocent bystander in the latest Cutie Mark Crusader fiasco. She cleared her throat. “Um, Professor?”

He nodded encouragingly.

She took a breath, “We were just in History of Magic and Professor Binns left.”

“Left?” inquired the puzzled professor.

“Yeah. He, um, passed on?”

“Passed on?” The diminutive wizard’s arched his eyebrows incredulously.

Scootaloo shuffled her feet awkwardly. The others held still so as not to draw the attention of their teacher — a skill they had developed in the Everfree Forest when evading predators. “Yes. I think he said ‘School’s out completely! For me, that is,’ and then flew up into the back right-hand corner of the classroom and disappeared, laughing.” She waved her hand to indicate the direction and then swallowed. “And now there’s no one to teach History of Magic.”

“Oh dear,” he said quietly and stared at the filly intently. He sighed, then waved his wand and said, “expecto patronum.” An unfamiliar silvery animal flew out of his wand and stood on its hind legs looking up at him. “Go to the Headmaster. Professor Binns has gone and we need a History of Magic teacher as of right now.” The silvery beast nodded and ran off through the air and through the hall wall. All the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs watched in stunned surprise. Most had never even heard of that magic, much less seen it.

He turned to the four students and said, “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”

After their hesitant explanation, with a few comments thrown in by the other students, mostly Hermione and Ginny, Professor Flitwick introduced himself to the class. Unfortunately, the rest of the class was boring in that most of it was about wands, taking care of wands, and general magic theory. Their professor tried to make it interesting, but even so, the only spells they “learned” were the two basics, lumos and nox. Which Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the fillies had mastered very early last month.

There was a slight bit of excitement when Professor Flitwick saw both Harry and Sweetie Belle using their magic to take notes. They were listening intently, with one hand propping up their chins and the other on their desks anchoring their papers, as their quills quickly scribbled away.

“Oh my!” he said excitedly, “Who taught you that?”

Harry and Sweetie Belle exchanged puzzled looks. “Um, Twilight taught me last year, and Sweetie Belle picked it up from me, I guess.”

“And that was before you got your wands, right?”

They both nodded and said, “Yes, Professor Flitwick.”

“It was a little tricky at first,” Harry continued, “but the longer we did it the easier it became. Sweetie Belle learned it faster than I did because she helps her sister with her sewing, so she was used to moving needles and threads quickly with her magic.” He wrinkled his nose. “Now, I barely have to think about it. And the writing is soo much cleaner, which makes it easier to read later.”

That turned into a quick impromptu discussion of wandless magic and how it differed from wanded magic. And the benefits of being able to take notes while their hands were busy doing something else.

Neither of the two pointed out the obvious usefulness of casting magic while desperately holding with all four limbs onto the safety of a branch, or galloping at full speed from certain death at the teeth of hungry pursuers.

“Three points each, Mr. Potter, Miss Belle, for such an excellent display of fine control, and with wandless magic, no less!”

In all the excitement, no one noticed that the other two fillies were mouth-writing with their quills.

۸- ̫ -۸

Lunch started with an announcement. The Headmaster struck his goblet several times to make a gong-like noise to attract everyone’s attention. “As many of you have no doubt heard, Professor Binns is no longer with us.” He was looking directly at the Gryffindor First Years cohort as he said this.

There was a brief break as shouts of relief ran through the hall.

The Headmaster smiled. “Hm, yes. It appears that he had not realized he was dead and a ghost all this time. I believe it was Miss Aloo, in Gryffindor, that brought that to his attention.”

There were many interested looks directed her way.

“He has moved on to the next great adventure of his life after almost two hundred years teaching History of Magic. I am sure we will all miss him.” The Headmaster halted and peered over his glasses. “In the meantime, History of Magic classes are cancelled until a suitable replacement for the position can be found.”

“Here’s hoping the new one is still breathing!” shouted one of the twins as the Headmaster sat back down. “And knows more’n just Goblin Rebellions,” put in the other one.

The Hall broke into laughter for a few moments before moving on to their lunch.

۸- ̫ -۸

Transfiguration class was fun, at first. Harry saw the cat sitting on the desk at the front of the classroom, as they all filed in after lunch, and laughed.

The cat glared at him.

The fillies were equally amused. They sat themselves at the front of the class, as usual. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo sat on either side of Harry, while Apple Bloom sat behind him. The fillies had been changing positions in each class so far so that the each had a chance at watching Harry’s back. Hermione and Ron traded sitting beside whomever was behind Harry. Ginny usually took the seat on other side.

Harry, the fillies, and Hermione grinned at each other, and at Lily Moon. She was the only other muggle-born in the class to receive a visit from Professor McGonagall and see her animagus transformation.

“What’s so funny?” Ron asked. Ginny and Neville also looked on curiously.

Harry, after a quick glance at the still-glaring cat, grinned at him and said, “You’ll see, just wait until everyone is here.”

Watching the other students and their astonished reactions when the “cat” on the desk transformed into their Professor had those six snickering out loud.

From their brief meetings in July, Harry had assumed that she would be a strict teacher. Her leading statement that transfiguration was complex and dangerous, and that anyone messing around would be banned, proved that, and was taken to heart by the herd.

They were all very impressed when she changed her desk into a pig and back again, although the Equestrians couldn’t help but think of Discord’s abilities. They couldn’t wait to get started, but the complicated notes they had to take demonstrated that that wasn’t likely to happen soon.

Harry and Sweetie’s wandless penmanship earned them a raised eyebrow and little else. Harry was tempted to change into his unicorn form, but decided that maybe that might be considered showing off.

Three-quarters of the way through the class, Professor McGonagall gave them each a match and told them to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, Harry and Hermione had managed to turn their matches all silver and pointy, and earned them a point each for Gryffindor. Sweetie, on the other hand, had a nice long sharp needle with a hole for the thread at the opposite end. She got two points.

Sweetie Belle, Harry knew, had a lot of practice with her sister helping her sew. That gave her a rather thorough knowledge of how a needle looked and felt in her magic. And Harry thought he had an advantage in consciously using magic for over a year, especially for his note-taking.

That made Hermione’s progress all the more impressive, which he made sure to tell her. She pinked a bit at his compliments.

Everyone had really been looking forward to their next class, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry was hoping for a few tips they might be able to use against the timber-wolves, cockatrices, manticores, and other pesky denizens of the Everfree that they had had a few run-ins with in the past. Unfortunately, the room was pretty bland when they entered, with nothing more frightening than the strong aroma of garlic. The other students who had already had his class had said at lunch that the garlic smell, which centred on Quirrell’s turban, was to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania. Apparently, he was afraid the vampire might track him down one of these days.

When they asked him in class about his turban, he had said it was a thank-you gift from an African prince for disposing of a bothersome zombie. Harry wasn’t sure he believed that story. Especially after Quirrell pinked and started talking about the weather when Seamus eagerly asked for more details.

On top of that, Quirrell’s lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. Between his stuttering, stops, and half-finished sentences, it was difficult to understand anything he said.

Later, the Weasley twins told the First Year’s that the turban was stuffed full of garlic so that Quirrell had vampire protection wherever he went. Harry . . . was not convinced.

Afterwards, all-in-all, it was a disappointing class, the Gryffindors agreed. Which was odd, they also agreed, given that their text, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, seemed to be a thorough and interesting introduction to the subject. They would have to take extra time in the evenings to study the text, they decided.

Peeves the Poltergeist was a major nuisance. He was in unapologetic prankster to the nth degree. Dropping wastebins on their heads, pulling rugs to make them trip, pelting them with chalk or other small items, sneaking up behind them, invisible, to grab whatever they were carrying — yes, he was one for pranks, he was.

The three fillies had quickly adopted a triangle strategy around Harry, much as they had when they had visited Diagon Alley. Each watched their surroundings closely — unlike Diagon Alley, here they expected an “attack.” Even if it was only from Peeves or an excitable fan of the Harry Potter books, it was still annoying and distasteful. Their Everfree escapades had taught them many survival techniques. With wands in hands, they were quick to use the shield spell Harry had taught them earlier that month after their experiences in the Alley. Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were quick to catch on and stuck close to the Equestrians. It didn’t take long before the other Gryffindor Firsties joined them to present a united front.

The other ghosts didn’t deliberately pull pranks, but it was still a nasty surprise when one of them glided out of the door you were about to open. Or worse, glided out of a wall or floor, through you, and then on to wherever they were going without so much as a by-your-leave! What made it especially irksome was that it was like being plunged into chilly water when one passed through you, leaving you with a chill to the very bones for several minutes. While it was shocking, after climbing a lot of stairs and feeling overheated, it was kind of nice, at least right now. In the middle of winter, though? The thought made Harry shudder. It would leave you freezing the rest of the day.

۸-_-۸

“Thank you,” Castor said to the small group of ten men after they had boarded the small bus with frosted windows, “for volunteering for this experimental procedure. Now that the physicals are complete and you’ve signed the non-disclosure agreement, I can tell you that you are not going to be fitted with new prostheses using classified experimental technology, as you were told previously.” He continued before they could begin to express their opinions at being lied to, “We will be attempting to regrow your lost fingers or hands.” That stopped any protests.

“These procedures are a joint effort between Her Majesty’s government and Royal Equestrian Technologies, and are considered, at the moment, to be Top Secret. Please do not discuss this program with anyone not involved in it until we give you clearance to do so. You may simply say it was an experimental procedure and you don’t know any more than that.

“We will be taking you to a new facility, in a secret location . . . .”

The path to the portal now had a permanent canopy, and the walkway was much wider. The tent had been replaced by a wooden building with a transparent but frosted roof.

With the help of the previous group of volunteers, and the use of some magic that Twilight called don’t-notice-it on the tree itself — a curtain hid the tree, they simply pushed through the curtain and arrived at the portal’s other side — these ten would never realize they had left Earth. The wooden spiralling deck had its own canopy, now. And with a repeat of the don’t-notice-it magic, targeted at the humans, they wouldn’t see the enormous walls surrounding the park-like setting on the other side.

The new building on the other side of the portal appeared, from the inside, to be a normal hospital facility, looking out into a small forested area. It would fool them for the few days it would take to regrow the fingers or hands that had been lost.

If everything worked as they hoped.

۸- ̬ -۸

Hermione suggested that they get an early start on their assignments after D. A. D. A. let out, but was out-voted. “Are you kidding?” demanded Dean. “It’s nice and sunny outside. And we haven’t even taken a look at the Forbidden Forest! We can do our assignments after dinner.” The fillies, Harry noted, perked up at the mention of the wizarding equivalent to the Everfree Forest. He sighed in resignation. It was only a matter of time . . . .

Thus, they spent the next two hours exploring the castle’s grounds.

Apple Bloom stood in front of the Forbidden Forest, hands on her hips, staring into it intently. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle flanked her. Harry and the other Gryffindors stood nervously behind them. A few of the other first year students had taken to following them rather than walking alone. When Harry looked back at the group behind him, he saw Percy headed their way, having seen the large group near the forest. Several other students had started to drift over, as well, expecting a little entertainment at watching Percy cow the Firsties.

“Don’t look that imposin’, does it?” Apple Bloom drawled.

“Eenope,” said Scootaloo, getting a frowning glance from Apple Bloom.

“It doesn’t look scary at all,” Sweetie Belle said. “Not like the Everfree, whatsoever.” She shivered.

“It’s supposed to have werewolves, trolls, and giant spiders in it. There are also centaurs and unicorns who don’t like wizards or witches,” said Ron, looking into the forest curiously. “At least, that’s what my brothers told me. And poisonous snakes.” He shuddered. “It’s got a lot of Dark creatures in it.”

“What’s a werewolf?” asked Sweetie Belle.

Ron stared at her. “It’s a monster. They look like normal wizards and witches, but once a month during the full moon, they turn into wild mindless monsters, wolves, that hunt and kill people for fun. If you get bit by one, you turn into one of them, too.” He shuddered, again.

“Just once a month? And only during the full moon?” Scootaloo sounded disappointed, which garnered her some questioning looks from the other students.

“No manticores?” asked Sweetie Belle.

Ron shook his head, “Not that I’ve heard.”

“How about cockatrices?”

“Uh, no?”

“Timber-wolves?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Hydras?” asked Scootaloo.

“Not that my brothers have mentioned,” he said.

“Chimeras?”

“No.”

“Tatzlwurms?”

“What?”

“Stellar beasts like Ursa Majors or Minors?” asked Sweetie Belle, somewhat disbelievingly.

Ron shook his head no.

“Are you sure this is the Forbidden Forest?”

Ron nodded.

Harry had the oddest desire to ask if there was any limburger in it.

“Can’t be all that dangerous, then,” Apple Bloom sneered, “Sounds more like the White Tail Woods than the Everfree.”

“Sounds down-right friendly, actually,” Sweetie Belle said. “I mean, the trees don’t even look slightly scary or anything.”

“Are you saying that that Everfree forest has those creatures in it?” asked Dean suspiciously.

Scootaloo snorted, “Yeah, we’ve run into all those monsters in the Everfree Forest. It’s just outside of Ponyville.”

The other students looked at the three girls incredulously.

Harry snickered, “RD still teases Twilight about getting turned to stone and needing Fluttershy to use The Stare to get the cockatrice to change her back.”

More than a few jaws dropped at hearing this. Many plainly did not believe it.

“Giant spiders, though,” Scootaloo said speculatively, staring into the forest with a half-smile. She turned to the other two fillies and grinned widely. They took the cue and the cry rang out over the lawn, “Cutie Mark Crusaders Giant Spider Wranglers!” and slapped their hands together in an awkward three-way high-five. It worked better when they were ponies slapping their hooves together.

Harry face-palmed.

The students around them exchanged looks, and clearly thought that the three foreigners were completely barmy.

Percy cleared his throat. The younger students quickly turned to face him, most not realizing a Prefect had followed them. There was a bit of a crowd now. “The Forbidden Forest is forbidden for students to enter without a Professor as an escort!” he said firmly. “If I hear any of you — any — have gone into it, it’ll be a week of detentions, if not a month, at least.” He stared at Harry and the Equestrians. “And I’ll be sure to inform your Princesses.” He crossed his arms and glared at them, frowning, and attempting to copy his mother’s formidable continence. It was a good effort, but couldn’t hold a candle to Applejack or Rarity when they were on the CMC warpath.

The three fillies gulped and looked innocent. It wasn’t nearly as effective while they were humans, Harry noticed. The four of them nodded slowly, indicating they understood his challenge. Harry’s nod was more in resignation, he knew he had almost zero chances of preventing any forest explorations. The best he could do was moderate the resulting damage.

He shook his head. Sap, he knew, would be involved — this was a forest, after all. Well, at least that third-floor corridor wouldn’t have any sap. He hoped. Cutie Mark Crusader Castle Explorers had been that rallying cry. He sighed. He wondered if the wizards had fire-and-flood insurance.

Several of the listening students exchanged glances at hearing the word “princesses” in connection with the three unusually named girls. One of whom had managed to get rid of a teacher that day — their very first day of classes, actually. Quite an achievement, when you thought about it. It had been accidental, but still — the school was now short a teacher. And the three foreign witches knew princesses, plural. As in, more than one.

Harry sighed as he watched. He could almost read the other students’ minds just from their expressions. There was going to be a lot of gossip and rumours about the fillies. And him. As if he didn’t already have enough problems with rumours from those stupid books.

Not even here a day, and already developing a reputation. He wondered how long it would take before the sight of Harry and the fillies, intent on an adventure, would send the other students scurrying for cover like the citizens of Ponyville did when they saw Scootaloo zooming down the street with the other three in the cart behind her.

“So,” said Sweetie Belle, in an obvious ploy to change the subject, “werewolves. They only change once a month?”

Percy nodded.

“Why would they want to change if they turn into mindless beasts?” asked Scootaloo.

“They don’t have a choice,” explained the Prefect. “As soon as the full-moon rises in the evening, they change and become mindless vicious beasts. It’s a terrible curse.”

The three fillies exchanged looks. Watching the moon here go through its different phases over the last month, and even disappearing completely for a night, had completely thrown their world-view through a loop. It was so unlike Princess Luna’s moon, which always appeared as a full moon. Or sometimes a half moon when she was feeling lazy. Or a quarter-moon when she feeling mischievous. But it was always up in some form every night.

“And they can’t do it any other time?”

Harry sighed, he could almost read Scootaloo’s mind, Only one night a month? Phhht! That was nothing to worry about. Now, nightly, that would be a problem for the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

“Werewolves,” she said softly, rolling the word around in her mouth, and giving a sly look at her three co-conspirators. Only Percy’s presence prevented an enthusiastic cry of Cutie Mark Crusaders Werewolf Hunters, Harry knew.

Percy shook his head, “No.”

“Do they hunt other animals?”

“Only if they’re hungry.”

“So, if we were ponies we would be safe?” asked Apple Bloom thoughtfully.

Neville was nodding his head in agreement, clearly following Apple Bloom’s thoughts as well as Harry was.

Percy frowned, “Perhaps, as long as they weren’t hungry,” he said. “You would at least have a better chance of running and escaping.” He glanced at Scootaloo, “Or flying and escaping.” He paused. “Not that you’ll be going into the Forest, will you.” he said emphatically.

They hastily shook their heads — they well-knew the lesson that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. And a month’s grounding was usually worth it — if they were caught. And they actually had a pretty good record at not getting caught. Naturally, their sisters and relatives didn’t know that little fact.

“Just asking, you know,” Sweetie Belle said, “Hypothetically speaking, that is. In case we saw one. They are supposed to be in this forest. So, you know, it could happen.”

Percy maintained his disapproving glare. “Right,” he said sarcastically.

“Wait a minute!” said Dean. “What do you mean ‘if you were ponies?’ Are you saying you can turn into ponies?” he asked incredulously.

The three fillies looked at their friends and smirked.

Harry sighed. He was doing that a lot lately.

Scootaloo snorted. A moment later, a small orange pegasus with a purple mane was flapping her wings above the group.

The gasp from the watchers echoed off the castle walls far behind them.

There was a brief burst of giggles and snorts from several of the Firsties.

A few seconds later, half the Gryffindor cohort had transformed into unicorns, pegasi, or just ponies. After a moment’s stunned silence, the girls watching all reacted the same: loud excited squeals followed by dashing forward and grabbing one of the ponies. “So cute!” was the loud cry, followed seconds later by “So fluffy!”

Harry, fortunately, he thought, managed to dodge his closest starry-eyed fan and took off running for the castle.

“Coward!” Ron yelled after him as he struggled in the arms of a big second-year Ravenclaw girl.

The boys watched in shocked silence.

Percy just sighed and kept watch on the forest.

Scootaloo’s hovering above them allowed her to launch herself higher and evade the two girls who had leapt up at her. She laughed as Ginny struggled to escape the clutches of a surprisingly strong, for her size, Hufflepuff first-year.

The boisterous group at the edge of the forest with the technicolour miniature pegasus flying overhead drew attention from all over the lawn.

Several upper-year girls broke into runs at seeing the small red-and-gold unicorn with a black mane and tail racing across the lawn towards the castle entrance.

The strategy of running for the castle had a major flaw. The closer he got, the more girls there were who saw him. Which quickly led to him getting trapped in a circle of admiring, cooing fans. “Aw, bollocks,” he said.

Just as they were closing in, he transformed back.

The girls stood around him, stunned.

“You’re a wizard!”

“You’re an animagus!”

“Merlin’s Sack!”

“Change back!”

“Yeah, change back!”

“Maybe later,” Harry shot back at them. “I gotta get my friends.” He turned and started back towards the group. The older witches followed him. The group was much larger by the time he arrived.

Percy had arranged a system. Each girl was allowed only five minutes to cuddle with a pony before she had to let someone else have a turn. He convinced Harry to participate by saying how unfair it was to his friends. Harry almost challenged him to transform as well, but decided that because Percy was the one enforcing rule upon the mob, it would be better not to. Who knew what it might devolve into if he lost control. And, Percy might like to keep that secret a bit longer.

He could hold that over the Prefect if he did catch them doing something that was . . . not exactly in the rules. Maybe. Well, it would be worth the shot.

Girls were going for their third or fourth turn an hour later when the Percy announced they had to head inside to wash up for dinner.

Naturally, the main topic in the dinner hall were the Gryffindor First Years’ animagus forms. Talking technicolour unicorns, pegasi, and “normal” ponies were unheard of in wizarding history. The Slytherins tried to make fun of them as multi-coloured “freaks.” However, that fell flat in the face of their obvious envy at the Gryffindor First Years having a skill so few adults ever mastered.

And what that meant for the Gryffindors’ magical power. That two of the hated blood-traitor Weasley children were animagi had major implications in the social strata of the “pure-blood” faction at the school.

Harry suspected that Professor McGonagall was going to get a lot of requests about her mentoring students to become animagi.

During dinner, Harry noticed, Professor McGonagall seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time glaring at the Headmaster, who seemed rather uncomfortable at her expression. Naturally, he couldn’t hear any of their conversation, but Professor Quirrell and the greasy-haired professor to one side seemed highly amused. And the other professors appeared a bit worried at the drama on display involving the normally staid Transfigurations Professor.

Abruptly, she half-turned to speak with someone behind her chair. After a grumpy glare and clearly a few furious words, Professor McGonagall came over to her First Years. They were puzzled at her approach. Harry didn’t think they had done anything to get her attention.

She stopped behind Neville. “Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Ollivander is here and would like a brief word with you. Follow me, please.”

Neville looked shocked, and almost tripped as he hurried to catch up with her.

Harry exchanged grins with the girls. They knew that the wand-maker wanted to meet and measure Neville for his new wand. And check to see what wand he currently was using. By this time next week, Neville would have a new wand.

۸- ̫ -۸

49 — Brilliant. Scary, But Brilliant.

After dinner, the First Years all gathered together and started tackling their classes’ assignments. History of Magic, naturally, was ignored.

Charms wouldn’t be all that difficult, Harry decided. The explanations in the books — Magical Theory and The Standard Book of Spells —plus what Professor Flitwick had covered in class made it rather simple, actually. The fact that he had used the Book Manifestation Spell earlier in the month to walk through all his books had given him a sufficient grounding in the basics for almost everything. All he needed now was to refresh his memory a bit and look for things he might have missed. He carefully arranged his books, parchment, and quill so he could take notes while he was book-walking, if necessary.

It was only when Sweetie Belle said, “Harry, you have got to teach me that spell!” to his Magical Theory book that the others looked over. Sweetie Belle was leaning over Harry’s book. The amount of homework — or was it dorm-work? — assigned had been considerably more than what they had ever experienced back in Ponyville. If Harry was correct in book-walking’s advantages over mere reading, it would certainly be worth a try. And, it actually looked like it might be fun.

Hermione, sitting beside her, was the first to notice. She gasped in shock and moved closer, almost knocking Sweetie Belle over as the book consumed the girl's attention. “Harry?” she exclaimed incredulously.

A tiny voice came from the book as the others began to crowd around. “Yes, Hermione?” His voice had almost no bass to it and was very tinny and difficult to hear unless you were close.

“Why?” she yelled at the book, “How?” That attracted the attention of several older students.

There, inside a small box on the page, with the text squeezed around it, was Harry, in full colour, looking up and out at them.

“Well, as Twilight told me, ‘you would be amazed at the things you learn when you’re in a book!’” he said somewhat smugly in his tinny voice. “Things are just . . . clearer. You get a better understanding of what the author intended. The spells are just so much easier to follow. And you remember things better. Not to mention that usually there aren’t any distractions.”

“Out,” she ordered him. “Now.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. Well, I’m done in here now.”

Suddenly he was sitting in his chair.

“AHHH!” screamed the four Gryffindors closest to him.

“AHHH!” screamed Harry in response, causing a few other smaller shrieks to echo around the room as the more excitable students screamed in reaction to the other screams.

After a few moments of heavy breathing with his hand on his chest, Harry said, “What is wrong with you people. You’d think you’d never seen magic before!”

“Harry,” said Hermione sweetly. Sweetie Belle hurriedly dodged out of her way as the other girl inexorably moved closer to the boy.

Harry looked at Hermione and swallowed nervously. Her eyes were a bit wider, and her hair was bushier, than normal. Harry remembered when they were in Diagon Alley and him thinking she was like Twilight. Well, her current expression and state made him wonder if they were secretly siblings. Although how that would work across dimensions, he wasn’t sure. But siblings. Yeah. Definitely a possibility.

“How did you do that?” she asked calmly with the focused stare and forceful tone of someone who will not be denied. She ran her hands along the lapels of his robes just below his neck. She had the air of someone just moments from going completely berserk if they did not get what they wanted.

And then she pulled him up by his lapels until his face was only centimetres from hers. She had a death grip on his robes. “Could you tell me that? Please?” she said through gritted teeth.

“Um, it’s the Book Manifestation Spell, Hayscartes' Method. Twilight taught me back in Ponyville,” he said, more than a little fearfully. “I told everyone about it last month, remember?”

“Book Manifestation Spell,” she repeated slowly, her grip intensifying. He had never suspected she had such strength in her hands. It must be from all those heavy books she had carried around before she had gotten the feather-weighted rucksack. “You said you found it much easier to learn. You didn’t say you would actually be in the book.”

Harry glanced at the other students now surrounding them. About half, mostly the more senior students, had similar, though not so frightening, intense expressions. The Equestrians were watching, stunned at the actions of the normally quiet and reserved witch. He nodded rapidly. “Ah, right,” he squeaked out quickly. “Takes a bit of power, but it’s actually rather easy to learn. I can teach you, if you want.” He smiled at her, hoping that would get her to loosen her grip. He was sure he was starting to turn purple.

She let go of his robes, dropping him back down into his chair. She patted his robes, straightening his lapels. “Yes, Harry,” she said quietly. “I would like that very much.” Her eyes were still far too wide open, and her hair, somehow was even bushier than before, blotting out everything from his view except her face. She gave him a thin smile that had absolutely no humour in it. And the promise of much violence if he didn’t do what he had promised.

Harry looked at the table, searching for his quill and paper.

She saw where he was looking. Without moving a centimeter, she produced her own paper and quill and let them drop on the table-top in front of Harry. “Here,” she said.

It took him only a few minutes to sketch out the memorized spell and its structure.

Less than five minutes later Hermione was shouting in a tinny voice, “YES, YES, YES!” and jumping in circles inside the page of her textbook. She ran off the page and deeper into the book. It was kinda of unfair how quickly she got the spell down, Harry thought, considering how long it had taken him. But she was a very quick study — and very determined to master every spell she heard of. Her learning to teleport was a good example of that. The girl had an iron will.

Those closest to the book later swore that they heard mad laughter coming out. The cohort exchanged uncertain looks and all decided not to cross the intellectual girl — ever.

Ron looked at him and said. “She’s brilliant. Scary as bloody hell, but brilliant.”

Most of the rest of those at the table nodded or murmured agreement.

Harry spent the rest of the evening teaching the spell to other students, and coaching them in its execution. Who, in turn, after mastering it and trying it out, taught others. By the time the First Years were sent to bed, almost all Gryffindor Third Year and above students had conquered the spell. That left the common room oddly empty and quiet, with open books scattered everywhere. Periodically, a student would be ejected. The pauses in-between became longer as their control over the spell improved. The upper years adapted the quickest, having the larger magical skills, and power.

There were a few students who were keeping an eye on things, just in case someone had a problem. And a dozen or two students, including Ron, still trying to perfect the spell.

Harry was sure that by tomorrow evening, everyone in Gryffindor would be using the spell. And he was more than a little disgruntled to realize that he was the only one of the First Years not to complete today’s class assignments.

۸- ̰ -۸

The trunk tour, after their early nine o’clock curfew, was short — there wasn’t that much to show, after all. To say that Dean, Seamus, and Neville were impressed was an understatement. Ron, still trying the Book Manifestation spell, stayed up in their room with a sour expression after he said, “I’ve seen it, already.”

“This bathroom is huge!” exclaimed Seamus. “That’s not a tub, that’s almost a swimming pool!”

“I know,” said Harry, “And it’s called a hot tub.” He touched a button on the side of the tub and that water started bubbling. “The girls insisted. It’s much better than the old washtub we used to use to scrub the tree-sap off each other.”

The other three turned and stared at him.

“Er, as ponies,” Harry quickly said, feeling his face heat up as he blushed.

They continued to stare.

“Hey,” he said, somewhat desperately, “we were little kids, then!”

They continued to stare. Dean, Neville, and Seamus, exchanged looks with wide eyes at realizing Harry and the fillies had become animagi at very young ages, and not just recently. Dean finally gave him a small nod.

“Moving along,” Harry said, “Here’s the kitchen.” He led them out of the bathroom.

After the tour, shaking his head in exasperation, he sat down and started to compose a letter.

۸-_-۸

Dear Twilight,

Hogwarts is weird! Like Canterlot Castle, there are staircases everywhere, over a hundred and forty-two. There are normal wide, sweeping ones and narrow, rickety ones. Unlike Canterlot, or our castle, though, some have a vanishing step halfway up that you have to remember to jump, and others don’t always lead to the same floor or place as they did the day before. There is a central stairwell, with thirteen staircases, in the middle of the castle. Those stairs are the most difficult to manage, as they randomly switch where they go throughout the day, sometimes even while you are on them! Then there are doors that don’t open unless you ask politely, or tickle them in exactly the right place, and doors that aren’t really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending, and other doors that pretend to be walls. It is very hard to remember where anything is, because it all seems to move around a lot, even the rooms don’t stay put. Plus, the people in the portraits move! They just up and walk out of their frame into another! They’re always visiting each other.

There are big metal suits of armour everywhere, it seems. The twins have told me that the suits of armour walk around at night — and sometimes during the day. So, you can’t depend on either the portraits or the suits of armour as landmarks to find your way.

There are “secret” passages everywhere. But how you can call something secret if everyone in your House knows where the “secret” passages are?

And then there’s Peeves. He’s a poltergeist. And he won’t leave us alone. He’s always pelting us with chalk bits, rotten fruit, smelly smoke bombs, and just about anything else he can think of to make us miserable. And where he got that bucket of tree sap I can’t figure out! Fortunately, he missed us and took out a bunch of Hufflepuffs, instead. Honestly, as Hermione said, I don’t see why the professors let him stay! Do you have any books that might tell us how to keep him away? As it is, we have to use our shield spells almost every time we are between classes. Which, I suppose, is good practice, at least.

There are the ghosts here! That’s right, ghosts. See-through, walk-through, wander-through-walls ghosts! Each House has its own ghosts, plus there’s a bunch of others that wander around. Gryffindor’s ghost is Sir Nicholas de Mimsy, but everyone calls him Nearly Headless Nick on account of how the headsman who was supposed to behead him didn’t do a good job. There’s a girl’s bathroom on the second floor that’s haunted! We even had a ghost for our History of Magic class today!

Do you have any books on ghosts? Could you send us a couple?

Worse than Peeves is Argus Filch, the caretaker. He has a cat named Mrs. Norris. She’s scrawny and dust-coloured, with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch’s. She patrols the corridors for him! If she sees you break the tiniest part of a rule, off she gallops for Filch, who always appears, wheezing, moments’ later. They both know the “secret” passageways better than anyone, and pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. Nobody likes him, and many tudents want to punt Mrs. Norris out a window.” And after meeting the two, I can certainly agree. Again, why do they let someone who so obviously hates children in the school? It makes no sense!

Finally, there is a forest right beside the school! It’s closer than the Everfree is to Apple Bloom’s house. Unfortunately, we were told, it has dark creatures like giant spiders and werewolves (people who turn into wolves once a month during the full moon and attack you) and so we’re forbidden to go into it.

I don’t see why they say it’s dangerous, though. The werewolves are wolves only once a month and giant spiders don’t sound all that terrible — how big could they be? Can’t be much bigger than the star-spiders, or maybe Fluttershy’s pet Fuzzy Legs, I would guess. Certainly not bigger than a pumpkin! Scootaloo wants to see just how big those spiders are. Do you know any anti-spider spells?

The forest doesn’t have any cockatrices, hydras, chimeras, timber-wolves, or even any stellar monsters like Ursa Majors or Minors.

Bunch of worrywarts, if you ask me.

Oh, and while we were outside the castle and looking at the forest (no, we didn’t go into it, Percy was with us), we sorta accidentally let everyone with us (mostly Gryffindors, but there were several students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw with us) know that we could turn into ponies.

Such screeching you never heard! I managed to escape their clutches for a while, but then I was caught. The girls just couldn’t seem to let go of us. They kept saying how cute and adorable we were, and also how fluffy. On the other hand, ear scratches are to die for. I thought Scootaloo was going to pass out when they started scratching between her wings.

Oh, by the way, that teacher I said was a ghost? Well, Scootaloo accidentally sent him on to his “next great adventure,” as the Headmaster said. The silly git didn’t know he was dead. So, now we don’t have a History of Magic teacher until they find a replacement.

Classes are fun and boring. The magic is fun, all the notetaking is not. Sweetie Belle and I each earned points because we were the only ones who could use our magic to take notes. I’ve included a copy of our schedule with a few notes about the teachers on the last page of this letter.

And the Book Manifestation spell, Hayscartes’ Method? No-one here had ever heard of such a thing and boy did they make a fuss when they saw me use it! I spent most of the evening teaching it to the other Gryffindors — and now I’m behind on my assignments. Guess I’ll get up early and do them then.

Oh, and before I forget, at the welcoming feast when we arrived, the Headmaster said, “the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.” What is up with that? Doesn’t he know that that’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull? I’m surprised there isn’t a queue of students waiting to go to the third floor! I did manage to talk the fillies into not having a go at it until later in the week.

Love, Harry.

P.S. By the way, we tried the floo-network in the trunks. While we can move between the ones here without a problem, we can’t access Apple Bloom’s trunk in Little Whinny. We decided we’ll leave it there. We really don’t need it here because the girls are all sharing one room anyway and the two trunks in the witches dormitory are enough should anypony want some alone time. Or a good soak in the tubs, as the dorms only have showers.

۸- ̰ -۸

Harry and his girl friends were finally here, Dumbledore mused, as he prepared for bed. And they had already shaken the school. First it was “helping” Binns to his next great adventure, then it was revealing their animagus talents. Yes, indeed, it was going to be an interesting year at Hogwarts.

He had to shake his head at the thought of their “awakened” talents.

He had thought that this Discord chap was simply very powerful.

At least, that was what he thought until the children had all transformed into their animagi.

That had altered his perception. What if, instead, the wizard had simply pulled their animagus talents to the surface? There was the Homorphus Charm, which forced an animagus to revert, could there be a charm to do the opposite? He had been researching that possibility since the children had shown it was an animagus talent and not a simple transformation, although he expected the search to bear no fruit. If a simple spell could bring about an animagus transformation, surely someone would have already discovered it? Unfortunately, not enough was known about how that magic worked.

It had to be more than just a spell, though, as he had concluded late last month. The caster had to know in advance that the wizard or witch could transform, and then to divine what that form was.

For Discord to be able to “see” the animagus in a person suggested that he had an intimate knowledge of how the animagus magic worked in the first place in order to separate it from the blur of a wizard’s magic. That was a level of knowledge that was breath-taking in its implications.

It wouldn’t require a tremendous level of power to force the transformation, just knowledge, precision, and control. And he had forced fourteen wizards and witches into their forms, simultaneously, when they had no prior knowledge of their forms! He had circumvented what normally took years of study by a wizard to find and understand their animagus form, and done it in a moment. That implied a very thorough knowledge of a tremendous variety of creatures — something that would take decades of study.

But there hadn’t been a variety of creatures at the Weasley’s home, only ponies.

For that many wizards and witches to be the same animal, beggared the imagination. Yet, here they were, all ponies — it should be impossible. He shook his head tiredly.

His eyes widened in surprise at a new thought. This Discord’s knowledge of the animagus magic must be complete and total. He had not only “seen” their animagus forms well enough to pull them to the surface without harming the wizards and witches, but he had also changed them! He had changed their animagus forms into ponies! That’s why they were all variations on a pony animagus.

He had the power and knowledge to change a fundamental aspect of a wizard’s or witch’s magic.

Dumbledore couldn’t even calculate the power or skill to do such a thing.

He wasn’t sure which was more worrying, an immensely powerful wizard, or just a powerful wizard with a fundamental understanding of magic that no other wizard had ever achieved.

In either case, he was a wizard that could easily match the Headmaster, if he so desired. It would be better to avoid any disagreements with the wizard, and to try to stay on his good side. Dumbledore smiled to himself. He had decades of experience at that.

And then frowned at what this insight might mean about the relative power of the other Atlanteans. The thought of an entire nation with powers nearly equal to his was daunting.

۸- ̰ -۸

At breakfast the next morning there were two main topics. The first was a continuation of yesterday’s furor over Gryffindor House’s technicolour talking pony animagi, underscored by their involvement with banishing Professor Binns and apparently knowing actual princesses. It soon gave over to the second topic, which was the quickly spreading rumour about book-walking — that is, the Book Manifestation Spell — involving Harry Potter and, by extension, the mysterious three foreigners.

It took only one demonstration by Percy to Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw Prefect, to bring the Great Hall into chaos. Percy had walked over to the other Prefect, sitting with her friends, to show off the new spell. Listening to his tinny explanation from the book only long enough to hear Harry Potter’s name, Penelope had almost galloped straight over to Harry. The three Ravenclaw Fifth Year students who had been only casually listening, at first, had excitedly and quickly followed her.

Curious, several other Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs seated on the table beside them, had looked at the abandoned book and had seen Percy pacing in it while exclaiming in a tinny voice about the virtues of book-walking. Amid loud exclamations of, “In a book!” “You learn faster?” “Harry Potter!?” they had grabbed their friends and followed the original four.

Percy, realizing his audience had fled, stopped the spell. Seeing a puzzled Percy reappear beside his book while his previous audience was making a beeline for the Gryffindor First Years, other students began to put two and two together. In short order, it was a stampede of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students over to Harry, all demanding they be taught this incrediblyvaluable spell.

It was just as a third Ravenclaw witch was trying to outbid the previous two by offering to have three of his children — no matter how many times they had to try — if he would only teach her that spell immediately, that Professor Flitwick walked up with Professor McGonagall.

“Quiet! Quiet!” ordered McGonagall. “What is going on here?”

“Book-walking . . . .”

“. . . in a book . . . .”

“. . . learn faster . . . .”

“I must know that spell!” came the chorus of answers as everyone tried to speak at the same time.

“Stop!” came the authoritative command.

The Professor looked at the group of Ravenclaws centred on her First Years. She sighed softly at seeing just who the focus of their attention was. “Mr. Potter. Do please explain.”

While McGonagall had seemed a bit cheerier without the Headmaster at the Head Table this morning — although she had glared at his empty chair — her expression now seemed to combine both exasperation and regret. Which was more than a bit confusing to Harry.

“Er,” Harry said, staring wide-eyed at the Ravenclaws pressed close behind him. They had even managed to crowd the fillies away, which was not pleasing the three Equestrians. Scootaloo was looking ready to do violence and Sweetie Belle had her wand out.

“Give him room, please,” Professor McGonagall said to the Ravenclaws, making shooing motions with her hands. They reluctantly took a step back. The fillies immediately reclaimed their positions and glared at the other girls. Their glares declared to all that Harry was their friend, Harry was happy to see, even though most of his attention was on his Head of House.

The other girls present took the message slightly differently, but the end result message was the same. Messing with him would lead to unpleasant consequences for the interlopers. Harry Potter was theirs.

“I guess it’s about the Book Manifestation Spell,” Harry said timidly.

Professor Flitwick perked up, “Book Manifestation Spell?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s a spell, it uses Hayscartes' Method, that lets you go into a book. Twilight taught it to me.”

“Into a book?” repeated the diminutive professor. Professor McGonagall’s eyebrows had managed to meet her hairline.

“Umm. Yes, sir,” Harry said nervously. “Everything is much clearer when you’re in the book rather than simply reading it. As Twilight says, ‘You’d be surprised at what you learn when you’re in a book.’”

Professor McGonagall noticed that many of the upper year Gryffindors were nodding in agreement.

Professor Sprout had joined her compatriots.

“And you know this spell?”

“Yes, sir. I asked Twilight to teach it to me when I learned I was going to be coming here and she wouldn’t be teaching me magic, anymore. I figured, if I couldn’t have her, the Princess of Magic, to answer my questions, then the next best thing would be to get inside the book itself.”

“Would you show us this spell?” Professor Flitwick said. He looked as interested as the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students, even Professors McGonagall and Sprout seemed intrigued. The nearby Gryffindors, all of whom had learned the spell last night, snickered. Again, Professor McGonagall noticed their reactions. From her brief frown, Harry suspected she knew they had already learned the spell.

Harry shrugged. He picked up his rucksack and pulled out his Herbology textbook. He moved his plate aside and laid the book down, open to the first chapter. He stared at it a moment, then abruptly he wasn’t there anymore. The Ravenclaws all gasped.

The three professors noticed that he hadn’t bothered to pull out his wand.

“Hi, Professor McGonagall!” Harry called out in his tinny voice, waving his hand from a box on the page.

Those who hadn’t seen Percy in his book, were amazed to see Harry’s demonstration.

“My word!” Professor McGonagall said, putting a hand on her chest. Professor Flitwick jumped up onto the bench into the space Harry had vacated and stared at Harry’s colourful image.

“Hi, Professor Flitwick!” He waved again. “Being inside the book just makes things easier to understand.” His tinny voice was difficult to hear. “You can pick up nuances of words that don’t come across when you simply read the text or look at the diagrams. It’s like the difference between reading about being levitated and actually being levitated. And there aren’t any irritating distractions, you can devote your full attention to learning.”

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were muttering in the background. Half were trying to shush the other half to hear what was being said, and making more noise than the ones they were trying to hush. The closest ones were silent and stared in disbelief. The ones farther back were pushing forward and trying to look over the shoulders of the ones in front.

The professor nodded his head. “What an unusual spell! Would you show me the spell?”

“Can I finish breakfast first?” Harry asked plaintively.

Professor Flitwick looked around and chuckled. “I believe we can manage that.” He started making shooing motions with his hands. “All right, that’s all for now. Get back to your breakfasts. Don’t forget you have classes, soon.” He grinned at his Ravenclaws. “I promise I’ll take a good look at the spell, and if it’s as useful as it sounds, I’ll make sure everyone gets a chance to learn it.”

Somewhat mollified, the crowd began to disperse and discuss the ramifications of using the spell. The Slytherins tried to pretend to be above it all, but Harry could see their interest perk up as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who had seen the demonstration explained what the fuss was about. Two of the Slytherin girls and one of the boys looked as if they were tempted to come over to the Gryffindor table immediately rather than wait for professorial approval.

Penelope was making a beeline for Percy, followed by several of her friends. She, clearly, wasn’t going to be waiting for any professor’s all-clear before learning that charm.

After Professor Flitwick hopped off the bench seat, Harry returned from the book.

“As soon as you finish your breakfast, come see me at the head table,” the professor said to Harry. “I’ll give you an excused-slip for Professor Sprout if we need to.”

Harry nodded, “Thank you, sir.” And turned back to his breakfast.

Not too much later, showing the Charms professor how to cast the spell and then walking him through his first book didn’t take much time. It also helped that he and the fillies had quickly finished their breakfasts. An excuse-slip for being late to Herbology wasn’t needed, although the quartet did have to run to catch up with the other Gryffindors.

As he had told everyone the night before, the spell was rather simple and all you needed was enough power to do it. Almost anyone with a wand could do it, they had discovered last night. Having a wand made spell-casting much easier, Harry had found, than just trying to cast spells without. He thought that having a horn was easier than using a wand, however. After all, the horn was directly connected to the body’s nervous system, mana-channels, and skeletal structure. That beat a hand-held wand by every measure you cared to make.

The other professors listened intently, although Professor Snape seemed to think it was some kind of attention-seeking stunt, from what Harry overheard. Professor Quirrell seemed more interested in Harry than the spell itself, however.

He also explained the “safeties” Twilight had added into the spell, as he had to the Gryffindors last night. Things such as you couldn’t get trapped inside and if there was anything in the book that could pose a danger to the spell-caster, the spell would not work. Instead, a temporary red tint would appear over the book as a warning. Plus, a basic part of the spell was that anything invoked inside the book could not manifest outside it.

In addition, you would be automatically ejected from the book if you fell asleep or unconscious for any reason, if the book was moved, or if some catastrophe were to befall the book — such as fire, or something falling on it. Exiting the spell usually placed you right where you had been sitting or standing. If that place was blocked by something, you would exit to a nearby location where there was actually room for you to fit.

“Five points to Gryffindor,” Professor Flitwick had said, “for bringing such an interesting spell to my attention.”

Professor Snape had rolled his eyes in disgust.

۸-_-۸

50 — How’d He Get Here?

Author's Note

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50 — How’d He Get Here?

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch with a patched and battered hat perched atop her short, grey, flyaway hair. Her work-robes were already covered in dirt and earth, and her fingernails dirty. She also had a brilliant cheery smile.

“Come in, come in,” she said merrily, ushering them into a large greenhouse with a number one painted above the door. “First Years are only allowed in Greenhouse number One,” she continued. “The others contain dangerous plants such as the Venomous Tentacula, Mandrakes, Fire Seed Bush, and so forth.

“Today, we’ll be going over general procedures and getting to know one another.”

She followed Harry in as he was the last to show up. She was only part way through her lecture about always using the correct amount of compost when Apple Bloom shrieked, followed a moment later by Ron. By the time the professor could make her way to them, both were almost buried under Walking Plants jumping off their nearby rack. Ron later insisted that he had not screamed like a little girl on helium, as Dean had said, but had yelled loudly in a very manly manner.

The plants were small, looking like tiny versions of evergreen hedges, and none more than seven centimeters high.

“Oh, dear! Back, back, back!” the professor said as she shooed the plants away, using her wand to levitate the more reluctant plants. “They’ve never done that before! Usually they run away when a wizard or witch is near.” She plucked a small sprout that was trying to hide in Apple Bloom’s hair. “Back you go,” she scolded the small plant as she placed it in a planting tray in a rack with a score of its relatives.

It wasn’t hard to miss how the magical plants in the green house always tilted towards Apple Bloom and Ron whenever they came close to one. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had noticed already that those two were the only two “normal” ponies in the group of otherwise pegasi and unicorns animagi. They began to get the idea that maybe those two weren’t just “ponies,” as they had assumed, but had some kind of connection with plants.

The professor gave them a thorough tour of the greenhouse, showing them where all the tools, accessories, and supplies were, as well as the proper places for things such as cuttings and compost.

The rest of the lesson was rather dull, being an overview of plant germination and how dragon dung can hinder, and rarely help, muggle plant growth unless one was very careful.

۸-_-۸

Turning to look at the class from the board behind his desk, Professor Flitwick glanced across the Gryffindor students. Normally, the Gryffindors were the more difficult class to teach, no matter which House they were paired with. They were easily bored, easily distracted, and typically poor note-takers, as he later told the Headmaster. A regular complaint of his.

This cohort, however, seemed inordinately focused. In fact, they were definitely providing competition to the Hufflepuffs. At the rate they were going they would soon surpass the Ravenclaws! The only two students who weren’t intently following along his explanation were two of the foreign girls who appeared to be chewing on their quills and doodling on their papers. They were somewhat balanced by their two friends who used their magic to take copious notes. Professor McGonagall would be happy to hear that at the staff's end-of-the-week professorial meeting.

He returned to his lecture. He would wait for the first test before making any judgements. The Marauders had taught him that just because someone appeared disengaged, that that didn’t mean they didn’t understand.

And who knew what that Book Manifestation spell might do in the way of study habits and lesson retention? It had been a bit disconcerting to discover that the entire Gryffindor House had managed to learn it in one evening. And that all the students he had talked to about it had reported it as a big help in learning and understanding the material. "It will probably take a while to see if there is a discernible difference in the assignments," he planned to tell Albus. But anything that improved their comprehension was a plus.

۸-_-۸

Tuesday afternoon, after Defence Against the Dark Arts, the Gryffindor First Year cohort moved to the library for their assignment research. They would have gone outside, but a rainstorm had moved in after lunch and hadn’t cleared up yet.

Pooling their efforts worked much better than trying to work alone, as Harry and the fillies knew. They could research several books at once, and give summaries of what they found to the others. Plus, without the worry of needing to read every book to find the information they needed, they could spend more time searching lesser-used books for tidbits of information. And, they didn’t have to worry that the book they needed was in the hands of another student, making them waste time waiting.

As a bonus, what one had trouble understanding, another always understood perfectly. And what one had trouble explaining in easy-to-understand terms — Hermione — another could translate for the rest.

Neville, Dean, and Seamus had tagged along at Harry’s invite, which made it five wizards to nine witches — a bit better ratio as far as the boys were concerned. Although it really wasn’t that terrible as usually there were several girls book-walking at any given time, especially Hermione. As she usually finished her work first, she spent the rest of her time in a book doing other “reading.” At the rate she was going Harry had no doubts she would make serious inroads in reading the entire library this year.

Naturally, the three fillies sat beside Harry. In spite of that, Harry spent most of his time teaching students from the other Houses how to use the Book Manifestation spell. By dinner time, the table commandeered by the First Year Gryffindors hosted almost half of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Houses Firsties as well. Most were sitting on the floor or had pulled over chairs from other tables.

After dinner, Harry discovered that having spent so much of his time teaching the spell instead of doing his assignments had a side benefit. After much begging by the older witches in Gryffindor, Hermione, Ginny, Ron, and the fillies had transformed into their pony counterparts. As a result, they were being cuddled, petted, and combed by nearly the entire House’s witch population. Each of whom jealously guarded their time with each pony.

Harry was able to beg off, using the excuse, “Assignments!” And that meant he had almost uncontested access to everyone else’s assignment notes. Which, in turn, meant he didn’t have to worry about leaving out or missing something important. He had been worried about that because he no longer had Twilight to double-check his work.

He worked slow, and made it obvious that he was double-checking his own work. This prevented the witches from accosting him and demanding he transform. He managed to drag it out until the nine-o’clock bed-time curfew hit the First Years.

Harry noticed, as they got ready for bed in the dorm-room that Ron seemed pretty calm and mellow, and very relaxed. He had expected the boy to be upset and riled up at “being forced to be a living plush toy.” On the other hand, Harry knew just how good those ear scratches felt, not to mention the tummy rubs.

After all, at home Ron had to compete with his siblings for any attention. Here, he had several girls almost fighting for the privilege of cuddling him, something his mother hadn’t done in years outside of momentary, crushing hugs. And no one could rag on him about him letting them fuss over him like that because he was simply one of many.

And some of the older wizards looked jealous of the time he spent being cuddled by the older witches. He had never had anyone be jealous of him before.

۸- ̫ -۸

Wednesday started off with the parliament of owls, including Hedwyg. Harry was delighted to see the Snowy White fly down and set a package in front of him. It immediately grew to a stack of books, ribbon-wrapped together. The top one was Ghosts, Fact or Fiction?, followed by Spells for Ghosts — If They Were Real, and Ghostly Spells. Then came Pests, Small and Large and the Encyclopedia of Small Pest Control. Harry gave him a banger and some bacon. He took the banger in his beak, and grabbed the bacon with one claw. When he took off, he passed over the bacon platter and helped himself to another claw’s worth before heading for the rafters to finish his dining.

Scootaloo chortled as she grabbed the Pests’ books and started flipping pages. Harry and Sweetie Belle almost had to fight Hermione for the Ghosts’ books, before Harry said, “Here, you take the thickest one!” and thrust Ghosts, Fact or Fiction? Into her hands. She was about to start book-walking when he stopped her. “Eat breakfast, first.” Sighing, she propped the book open and merely read the book as she ate. And continued to read it as they headed for the greenhouses.

Disturbingly, Harry noticed, she walked the entire way without once looking up to see where she was going. And managed to not bump into anything or anyone on the way. Harry even stopped in front of her and watched as she steered around him without a misstep. She didn’t even comment on him deliberately stepping in front of her. How had she picked that trick up from Twilight after only meeting her a few times at the Weasleys’? Yet more evidence she was Twi’s lost twin.

Harry couldn’t help but snicker during class as he watched the Walking Plants. They would slowly creep under the tables and across the aisles as they tried to sneak up on Ron and Apple Bloom. And Professor Sprout, repeatedly, would chase them all back to their rack.

۸- ̫ -۸

It started during lunch, when Morag MacDougal came over from the Ravenclaw table and stood behind Harry as he was getting ready to stand up.

“Is it true you grew up in a castle?” she asked, her eyes curiously bright. She was taller than Harry, naturally — everyone was taller than Harry — with brown eyes and elbow-length hair. Her face was oval shaped, slightly taller than it was wide.

“No,” he replied, taken aback at the suddenness of the question.

Scootaloo hip-bumped him from his right — it was her turn to sit on his right. Sweetie was on his left, with Bloom beside her. “But you do now,” she said with a smirk. She looked up at Morag. “Back home, that is,” she clarified, in case anyone thought she meant Hogwarts.

“I knew it!” the witch said softly, her eyes gleaming as she made a fist and shook it in triumph. “I knew the books were true! That ad in the Daily Prophet was wrong!” She chortled happily.

Harry interrupted, alarmed at her conclusion. “No, the books are lies. I lived with muggle relatives most of my life,” he said. “Definitely not in a castle,” he finished darkly.

She tilted her head disbelievingly. “So, you don’t live in a crystal castle with a princess?”

“Well,” he said reluctantly, “Yes, I do. I live in Twilight’s castle. And it is made of crystal.” He paused a second. “But she only recently became a princess and she’s only had the castle for short while!” he added quickly, seeing her triumphant expression. “We used to live in a Library Tree until Tirek blew it up when he took everyone’s magic.”

There was a silent crowd slowly gathering around them. Ginny was listening with narrowed eyes.

Hermione, to the side of Scootaloo, said, “I still can’t believe you actually lived in a library . . . in a tree.”

Harry looked at her. “Yeah, it was kinda ace, actually. Until Tirek burned it down.” He frowned. “The castle’s sorta okay. Really big. I liked the Library Tree better.”

Hermione just stared at him, her mind obviously lost again in the fantasy of living in a library. He wondered if she was about to start drooling. Several of the Ravenclaws looked ready to join her if she did.

“Uh-huh,” Morag said doubtfully, bringing his attention back to her. “And I suppose you don’t ride a dragon, either?”

He flushed a bit red at that. “Well, no, I don’t have a dragon! Spike is my dragon friend.” He smiled, “Almost more of a brother, truthfully.” He cleared his throat. “But Spike’s a baby dragon! He doesn’t even have his wings yet.”

He felt his face get hotter as he turned a bit redder and tried to deflect the questions. “He’s Princess Twilight’s best assistant! She takes him everywhere, and he takes down all her notes for her.”

“So,” the Ravenclaw said slowly, “You do have a dragon, and he’s smart enough to read and write?”

“Well . . . yeah, but he’s not mine. He’s my friend.”

She eyed him carefully, a wide grin on her face now. “Of course you would say that,” she said.

He shifted uncomfortably. There was a rather large group of students listening in, now, not just the nearest Gryffindors.

“Well, since your dragon friend is too small to ride, do you ride your Griffon when you go on adventures?”

Harry stared at her wide-eyed. “Ride a Griffon? Are you barmy? Any Griffon I tried to ride would have ripped my head off!” He shook his head. “Besides, I’m sure the Griffon Ambassador would throw a right proper wobbly if he heard that anyone in the Royal family had been so disrespectful to his people.”

A few people in the background exchanged puzzled looks.

Not deterred by his denial, Morag persisted, “And you don’t go off and have adventures?”

Harry looked away. First at the ceiling and then the students gathered around them. He could swear he saw at least one of the older students casting a spell of some kind, probably to listen in considering how he wasn’t very close.

“Well,” he said slowly, “Not exactly. The adventures seem to come to us. Like the time a cerberus wandered into town, a cockatrice turned Twilight to stone, or the Diamond Dogs captured Rarity . . . ,”

“Rarity’s my older sister,” Sweetie Belle interjected.

“And the Everfree forest outside Ponyville has manticores, hydras, timber-wolves, and . . . .”

“All of which we’ve had run-ins with,” Scootaloo added drily.

“Timber-wolves?” questioned someone in the crowd.

“Er, yeah,” Harry said, “Imagine a wolf as big as you, only made of wood and sticks. You can’t kill it. But if you chop off a leg or drop something heavy on it . . . ,”

“Like the tree branch beside the one you’re clinging to,” Scootaloo added helpfully.

“They break apart and slowly reform. Takes ’em a couple of minutes. Gives you just enough time to run away, if you can.”

“Fire doesn’t even kill them,” Sweetie put in. “They just reform outside the fire.” She shuddered.

“And don’t forget Steven Magnet, the sea serpent,” Scootaloo said to Harry.

“Yeah,” Sweetie said, “Steven was nice.” She glanced at her friends. “He knows some good jokes . . . and he’s almost as vain as my sister.” They giggled as Harry rolled his eyes. Yeah, sure, she could say that, but Celestia forbid if anyone else said that about her sister!

“Then there was the tantabus,” Bloom said. “It’s a nightmare creature that threatened all of Ponyville,” she explained, “and we all had to fight it.” The fillies and Harry all shivered at the memory.

The students around them were staring at them, unsure whether they should believe them or not. On the one hand, Harry said all the books describing those fantastical adventures were lies. And then he confirmed most of them in the next breath!

“What are you going on about now, Potter?” came the insulting voice of Draco. Malfoy had, for the most part, ignored Harry and the fillies since the train trip. Apparently he had been on the edge of the group around the table.

Harry turned and looked at the Slytherin as his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, pushed their way closer and made a path for him. “Malfoy,” he said neutrally. The other wizard was flanked by his two followers, who looked as if they hadn’t become any smarter since arriving at Hogwarts.

“I’m sure those stories are all a bag of rubbish to make yourself look posh!” Draco sneered. “You’re just a peanuts ponce.”

Harry half-smiled. “Malfoy, if I had told you back on the train that I was an animagus, and that my form was a unicorn, you would have called me barmy and a liar, just as you are now. And you would have been wrong, wouldn’t you? Just as you are now, aren’t you?”

Surprised at Harry’s effective rebuttal, Draco finally said, “Well, then, prove those stories are true!”

Harry just stared at him, then shrugged. “And how would I do that? You want me to summon a hydra, perhaps? Or bring over a timber-wolf to let loose in the Forbidden Forest? Perhaps I should get a changeling or chimera to appear?” He shook his head. “No, I really don’t care if you believe me. All I’m saying is that the stories in those books at the bookstores are all lies.”

“See,” Draco said, smirking his eyes, “I knew it was all rubbish.”

The other students around rolled their eyes. They could see Harry had been trying to downplay his background.

“But you do live in a crystal castle, with a real princess, have a dragon as a friend, and go on adventures, right?” Morag said. “You actually talked with a sea serpent? And you are a unicorn animagus!”

Harry hung his head. “Yes. But most of our adventures end up with us in trouble with Twilight and their relatives,” he pointed at the fillies, “and covered in sap.”

“Sap?” came the astonished reply.

Bloom and the other two scowled. “Yeah. We’ve been lucky so far. We’ve gone an entire month without once getting covered in sap,” Sweetie said. Playing Quidditch with the Weasleys had kept them out of the both the Everfree beside Ponyville and the Weasley orchard.

Scootaloo punched her softly in the arm, “Hay! Don’t go and jinx us!”

Bloom scowled some more, “Well, at least it should be easier to remove here than it is at home.”

Giggling, the Ravenclaw girl left to find her friends.

Harry sighed. He just knew she was going to be telling everyone the books were true despite him saying they weren’t.

Muttering and mumbling, the crowd started to disperse, then, as it was getting time for the next class.

۸- ̫ -۸

Castor had just put down his fork and leaned back in his chair. Dinner tonight had been wonderful. His beautiful wife, Milada Searle — it was not quite twenty years ago that he had first met Milada Sarood, as she had been known then — smiled at him. He still wondered how he had managed to attract her attention, and then her love.

Their beautiful 15-year-old daughter, Thalia Asgre, picked up her plate and glass and took them to the sink. “I’ll be at Jill’s house, studying, okay mum?” she said turning to look.

Her mother smiled genially, “Of course, dear. Just remember it’s a school night and your curfew is nine-o’clock.”

Smiling just as broadly, the girl skipped over and kissed both her father and mother on the cheek, and happily left the dining-room.

“Cup of tea?” she asked standing and collecting their plates.

“Sure.”

They heard the front door slam as she put their cups on the table.

“Honey?” she said as she sat down across from him. She took a sip, and then said the four words guaranteed to bring terror into the heart any man, “We need to talk.”

Castor’s blood ran cold and the marvellous warm dinner in his stomach seemed to turn to cold lead. “Oh, dear?” he said calmly.

“Ever since you took your new job at Scotland Yard, you’ve been quite preoccupied.” She studied him, smiling. “I don’t mind the hours, I understand you’re settling in and need extra effort to acclimate and get up to speed on your cases.”

Only his many hours under fire kept him from breaking out in a sweat, and held his hand steady as a rock as he took a sip of his own tea.

“However, even when you’re home, you’re not really home. You’re staring off into the distance and obviously troubled. And, you’ve been tossing and turning in bed, and you’ve started talking in your sleep again.” She looked at him levelly, no longer smiling. “You haven’t done that since Sport and Social.” She was staring him right in the eyes. “And you’ve never done it with your other cases in the department no matter how much they upset you. What’s going on?”

He took another sip and considered his options. He was never any good at telling Milly lies. Somehow, she always knew when he played fast and loose with the truth. She even knew when he wasn’t telling her the complete truth. He sighed. He knew he should keep it quiet, but she was also quite good at keeping secrets. He nodded, more to himself than her.

“I’ve been recruited by MI5. Aliens, as in not-from-earth-aliens, have contacted the government and I’ve been appointed as their contact-man. I’ve been helping them get used to Earth. They normally look like a waist-tall unicorn, pegasi, or pony, but they can change to look like a person with very long hair.”

She gave him a sour look and sighed. “If you can’t tell me because you’re on a sensitive case, at least you could say so,” she said reproachfully. “There’s no reason to make up a tosh story.”

His mouth dropped open. “But . . . .”

“Aliens? Unicorns?” She shook her head. “If you’re gonna tell me a lie, at least you could make it somewhat believable.” She reached across and grabbed his hand. “I’m not going to throw a wobbly just because you’re on a sensitive case, dear. You know that.”

He looked down for a moment. “Alright. You’re right. It’s a really sensitive case and I can’t talk about it, but it’s really involved.” He looked up at her. “You’ll read about it in the papers in about a year, maybe less.”

She leaned back in her chair. “There, now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She got up and came around the table and hugged him. “You know I love you. And you can tell me anything you want that isn’t secret, and I’ll still keep it a secret.”

Then she grinned. “And Thally is gone for the next three hours.” She pulled on his hand and led him from the kitchen up the stairs.

۸- ̬ -۸

The Gryffindors’ table in the library had become quite crowded as now not only did all the Gryffindor First Years study together, but all of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Firsties were there as well. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how Harry looked at it, he didn’t have to spend as much time helping students with the Book Manifestation spell and could work on his own assignments.

That meant that he couldn’t escape transforming in the Gryffindor common room with the others. After hearing that the Firsties had already completed their assignments, the Gryffindor upper-year witches, naturally, demanded that the First Year animagi become ponies. The witches just could not get enough of the ponies that stood knee-high or lower. Cuddling, petting, and combing the adorable and fluffy ponies was apparently quite addictive for them.

And while the wizards denied the attraction, Harry couldn’t help but notice that a fair number of them spent at least a few minutes petting the ponies. Some of the wizards did admit that the ponies were the cutest things they had ever seen. And watching Scootaloo and Ginny preen their feathers had made one wizard loudly proclaim that the ponies were going to give him diabetes.

Which he followed up with by challenging one of the other boys to an arm-wrestling competition. That became a surprisingly popular pastime for the boys in the days that followed. Chess became another favourite. One game that took the wizards by storm with its cut-throat competition was London Monopoly. Which, over the winter, became Wizarding Monopoly by the alteration of many Chance and Community Chest cards and changing the properties to wizarding locations.

Harry thought it rather interesting that neither the twins, nor Oliver, Angelina, and Alicia from the Quidditch team, appeared in the common room that evening while all this was going on. The twins, he was sure, did it because having a secret unicorn pony form would undoubtedly aid them in their pranking. The Quidditch team? Well, he couldn’t figure that out.

Astronomy class that night had been difficult. With a normal bedtime of nine-o’clock for the First Years, staying up an extra three hours for the midnight class was challenging. What was worse, though, was then trying to stay awake during the hour-long class itself. At the top of the Astronomy tower. In the dark. With only their wands providing light when they took notes.

Next time, Harry decided, he would try to sleep from seven until eleven-thirty. Maybe that would help.

Afterwards, Harry and the fillies had waited for each other until all of them had packed their telescopes away before leaving. The other Gryffindors had straggled down the stairs as quickly as they could manage, listening only to their beds’ siren call.

Thus it was that the fillies, Harry, and, for some reason, Neville and Hermione, were the last to leave the Astronomy tower — the entrance of which was on the second floor! Not the seventh, which would have been convenient for the half-asleep students.

They had barely started up the Central Staircase that the other Gryffindors had used to get back to the seventh floor when it suddenly began to move. When it stopped, it led to the fourth floor, not the seventh. On the opposite side of the Central Stairwell, on the fourth floor, was a staircase that led to the seventh floor.

Sighing, the six continued up to the fourth floor. After they left that staircase and rounded the corner of the Central Stairwell towards the one they wanted, Harry saw that staircase suddenly abandon them. They stopped and dully watched as their way to the seventh floor dropped from their floor to the floor below them, the third floor.

“Ponyfeathers,” said Scootaloo. Then she yawned widely, triggering yawns in them all.
“Look,” Harry said and pointed. “That staircase goes to the third floor.” It was around the next corner of the Central Stairwell.

And, miraculously, it stayed put long enough for them to reach it and make it to the third floor. And then they watched both staircases, the one they had just descended and the one that led up to the seventh floor abruptly swing away. Which left them stranded on the third floor.

Hermione sighed tiredly. “I think there’s a staircase down that hall,” she pointed. “That will take us up to the seventh floor.”

“Isn’t that staircase at the end of the castle?” Sweetie Belle said dejectedly.

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed, “But it’s better than chasing these bloody staircases here all night.”

The others were too tired to even remark on her cussing. They just started to trudge, half-asleep, in that direction.

It was the sudden hiss that caught them by surprise when they were only halfway down that hall. It was Mrs. Norris, they saw, a moment later. The cat stared at them malevolently for a second, then spun and dashed off in a blur of fur.

“Aw, crap,” Harry said. “Filch’ll never believe we’re on our way back to the dorm.” He turned and started hurrying back to way they had come. “Maybe there’s a staircase there now that will get us off this floor before Filch catches us.”

They reached the stairwell to see that there still were no staircases leading away. Behind them they heard Filch’s wheezing voice, “They can’t have gone far, my love, hurry, sniff them out!”

۸-ꞈ-۸

A.N. * italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

51 — Surprise!

The Gryffindors ran to the opposite side of the stairwell and started down that hall only to run into a door partway down it. They looked around and saw no other way out except back to where Filch was surely waiting for them. “It’s locked!” whispered Neville, jiggling the door handle.

Hermione sighed tiredly. “Are you a wizard or not? Budge over!” She pushed him out of the way, tapped the lock with her wand, and whispered, “Alohomora!”

There was a click and the door swung open. They quickly pushed through it. Just before they closed it, however, Harry quickly cast scourgify on the floor and down the corridor. Hermione cast a colloportus, relocking the door. They pressed their ears against the door, listening.

“They ran down this corridor, I heard them, my sweet,” they heard Filch say.

“Merrrow,” came the response.

“Hmm,” he said, “there aren’t any secret passages down there.” They heard his footsteps coming closer. “Are you sure you don’t smell them?”

Another “Merrrow” was his answer.

Neville tugged on Harry’s sleeve.

Harry whispered, “Get off, Neville!” and shook his arm.

They all jumped and stared at the doorknob as the castle caretaker jiggled it.

“Still locked.” He stomped away. “And you don’t smell them, my sweet? Don’t see why not, they all smell to high heaven, anyway,” he growled. “You’d think they never heard of showers and bathing,” he added bitterly. His voice faded in the distance. “I could swear they went down this corridor. Humph. Next time I’ll get them,” they heard him say angrily.

Neville tugged hard on Harry’s sleeve, “Harry,” he said, his voice low and quavering in fright.

“What!?” Harry turned to Neville. For a moment, he was sure he was back in the Ponyville.

He was looking at a giant dog, a dog who filled the entire room, from floor to ceiling — and it had three heads. Three sets of glaring eyes, three twitching and quivering noses, three snarling mouths with saliva hanging down in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

“Woofy!?” Scootaloo said, astonished. “What’s Woofy doing here?”

Sweetie Belle looked at Harry, “Do you think Twilight knows he’s not guarding Tartarus?”

Hermione stared at the three girls, eyes wide in disbelief at their casual attitude.

“Girls,” Harry said, “I don’t think that’s Woofy — and Fluttershy isn’t here. And this guy seems mighty upset.”

It stared at them with all six eyes. Harry knew from his experiences in the Everfree that the only reason they weren’t already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise. However, it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those floor shaking growls meant.

He heard the gulps as they realized that the door hadn’t led to an empty classroom. They were in the banned third floor corridor — and now they knew why it was the Headmaster had said it was banned unless you wanted, “to die a very painful death.”

Meanwhile, Hermione and Neville had not been idle. If it came down to being caught by Filch, and getting an unpleasant detention, or death, they’d take the detention. The door was unlocked and opened far faster than they had done it originally.

Harry yanked the door closed even as they fell backward into a pile. They scrambled to their feet and ran — they almost flew, back down the corridor. There was no sign of Filch, he must have hurried off somewhere else. They didn’t care — they just wanted to do was put as much distance between them and that monster as possible. Astonishingly, when they reached the central stairwell there was a staircase that led directly from this floor to the seventh, right in front of them. They galloped up the staircase at full speed.

Once safely inside their dorm, they collapsed, trembling and gasping for air, sweat covering them head to toe, onto the couches and armchairs nearest to them. “What the bloody hell was that!?” Neville gasped. “What do they think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that in a school?”

“Language, Neville.” Hermione was still working at getting her breath back. “You don’t use your eyes, do you?” she said, staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?” She turned to the Equestrians. “And you four, Woofy? Seriously?”

“Ah,” Harry said, breathing heavily still. He looked at his friends. “Well, we did tell you we met a cerberus back home, in Ponyville, didn't we now?” He sighed, “It kept chewing on house roofs until Fluttershy distracted it long enough for Twilight to use a giant squeaky ball to trick it into returning to Tartarus.”

“Fluttershy?” Hermione said incredulously, “The witch who hides if you look at her? She confronted a cerberus? Are we talking about the same person?”

Harry sighed. “Well, she’s really good with animals. She started giving Woofy belly rubs and tickles.”

Hermione and Neville stared at him in disbelief.

He shrugged. “I can’t explain it any better.” He snorted in wry amusement. “We did get a poster the next day from Princess Celestia asking everyone to keep a lookout for her lost dog, though.” He shook his head ruefully. “Under distinguishing features, she put ‘Very cute, has three heads, is as large as a house, answers to Woofy.’”

“Cute?” Hermione and Neville, echoed in patent disbelief. “Cute?” They looked as if they were afraid to ask if he was joking.

“And no, I wasn’t looking at its feet,” Neville said.

She gave her head a shake, then said. “It was standing on a trapdoor. It’s obviously guarding something.”

“Well, duh,” said Scootaloo. “Isn’t that what a cerberus does? Guard things?” She looked at Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom. “Wonder what she’s guarding?” she said speculatively, her lips stretching into a small smile. “I think we have some exploring to do . . . .”

Hermione stared at them, flabbergasted, then threw her hands into the air in frustration. “What is wrong with you? We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled,”* she said indignantly. She got up and stomped off to her dorm room.

Harry buried his face in his hands. Between the spiders in the forest and the treasure the cerberus had to be guarding, keeping out of trouble would be impossible this year. Well, at least with the cerberus in the corridor, tree-sap would NOT be involved. He hoped.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Thursday had a bumpy start. First, there was the fact that by the time they had returned from Astronomy class it had been almost two o’clock in the morning, meaning few of the Gryffindor First Years had gotten more than five hours of sleep. There was a lot of yawning at that end of the breakfast table.

When they walked into their Herbology class, Ron and Apple Bloom were ambushed by the Walking Plants. “Ahhh!” they both screamed as they were hit with dozens of the plants dropping on them from over the door. “Get ’em off! Get ’em off!” they both yelled, swiping at their heads and running around in the greenhouse. It took the concerted efforts of Professor Sprout and the rest of the class to succeed in corralling the mischievous plants.

“Well, I never!” exclaimed the professor when they were done, wiping her forehead with a hand and smearing dirt across it. She put her hands on her hips as she glared at the errant plants. “Am I going to have to cage you all?”

The plants did not seem ashamed at all. If anything, they seemed to exude an air of disappointment.

Apple Bloom stalked over to the rack in which the plants were currently cornered. She glared at them. “I got a wand, now, and I’m not afraid to use it!” she said, holding up her wand threateningly. “And I know incendio!”

The plants shuffled away from her.

Sweetie Belle said, “I wonder what they want?”

The class looked at her.

She shrugged, “Well, I mean, they didn’t actually do anything, now did they?”

Professor Sprout looked back and forth between the plants and their targets. She smiled. “Special project, class.”

They groaned and looked at her suspiciously.

“Each of you take one of the plants with you today. After every class cast a diagnostic spell on the plant and each other, and copy the results to paper. Bring the Walking Plants back to me after your last class of the day. As an overnight assignment, compare the results and see if there are any differences. Tomorrow, come by before breakfast and hand in your assignment. Then pick up the same plant you had today. We’ll do this for several days to see if we can figure out why the Walking Plants favour Mr. Weasley and Miss Bloom.”

She motioned them to spread out a bit. “First, here’s the spell for the plants.” It took almost twenty minutes before everyone had it down perfectly.

“And here’s the medical diagnostic I want you to cast on each other. It can’t be used on yourself, someone else has to cast it on you.” That spell took almost the rest of their class.

“And, finally, to make sure you don’t copy down anything incorrectly, use this spell to copy the other two spell-results to paper.” That was a simple spell and took only a few minutes to learn.

Then they each went to the Walking Plant tray and selected one. Ron and Apple Bloom held back, which was probably prudent. Otherwise, there might have been a plant riot as the tiny bushes vied with one another to go with Ron or Apple Bloom.

Harry watched Apple Bloom’s selection as it preened itself after it had climbed her arm to her shoulder and partially hid itself in her hair. Ron’s hair being too short to act as sufficient camouflage, his choice just clung to his shoulder and somehow conveyed an air of smugness.

Like the plants the girls had, Harry’s snuggled up to his long hair in an attempt to hide. The plants the boys chose rode on their shoulders. None opted for hiding in a pocket.

The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff boys did look a bit unusual with what appeared to be small hedges stuck to their shoulders, which drew a bit of attention from the other students in the halls. The girls, with their plants hiding against their hair, were not nearly as conspicuous, but they too, drew curious looks. For once, Harry and the fillies were not being singled out as the preferred recipients of stares.

“What’s this?” Professor Flitwick said as the First Years arrived in Charms class. He insisted that they demonstrate their newly learned spells, and spent the rest of the class explaining how those spells worked and what their limits were. And giving them an assignment on the spells’ origins and derivations, as well. And the Ravenclaws were, well, green with envy over the rather advanced charms their Herbology professor had taught the other two Houses. And they were studying furiously to catch up.

Harry found it disconcerting to have the little plant hanging out on his shoulder. He kept forgetting about it and then seeing it out of the corner of his left eye — it was on his left shoulder, that being closer to Sweetie Belle and Ron in this class — and jerking his head to look in that direction. He wasn’t the only one to do that, he saw with some relief.

After class was their first try at getting the reports done and copied to paper before they were late to their next class. Fortunately, it being lunch, being late wasn’t a concern. But it would be for the other two classes that day. They quickly paired up so they would be ready.

After lunch, Professor McGonagall merely gave the Gryffindors an arched eyebrow as they came in. Harry figured Professor Sprout must have told the other professors at lunch what the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were doing with the plants. She continued the lesson from the day before — answering questions, giving an additional lecture, and making their match-cum-needle longer and fancier.

D.A.D.A. was boring. Professor Quirrell’s stutter seemed worse today than usual and the day’s notes barely took up two centimetres on their paper. He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time staring at Harry, Sweetie Belle, and Hermione, though.

۸- ̰ -۸

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs piled out Greenhouse Number One’s door after dropping off their Walking Plants. Ginny and Scootaloo transformed almost immediately and zoomed up into the sky. The rest meandered slowly across the lawn. Harry sighed, watching the five pegasi swooping around each other. “It was fun, wasn’t it, Sweetie, Bloom? Flying, that is.”

They looked up at the pegasi and sighed, “Yeah, it was.” Apple Bloom said as Sweetie Belle nodded. Then Sweetie Belle frowned. “Five?” she said. “Am I seeing things? Or are there really five up there?”

Harry squinted, “Yep, I see five.” He grinned. “I guess Oliver and the girls have decided to come out and play,” he half-whispered to the two fillies. A faint cry of “Quidditch!” reached them and the pegasi suddenly swooped off towards the Quidditch pitch. Harry laughed. Loudly, he said, “Who do you think would win? A Quidditch pegasi team or a wizarding team?” Two of the Hufflepuffs still standing nearby suddenly jerked around to look at him, turned to look towards the Quidditch pitch, and then ran into the castle. Harry snickered. No doubt they were heading to inform the Hufflepuff team of the challenge — before the Ravenclaws heard of it and could get there first.

“Race ya to the lake,” challenged Apple Bloom just after transforming. Sweetie Belle and Harry looked at her, shrugged, and transformed. So did Ron and Hermione, and the small string of ponies thundered across the lawn in a five-way race. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Harry decided, Apple Bloom and Ron were leading and neck and neck the whole way. Then it was a race to Hagrid’s hut. Again, the two earth ponies stayed out in front.

Harry decided that after spending all day in the castle, kicking his heels up and racing around the lawn was just what he needed. It felt good to stretch his legs.

They reached Hagrid’s hut and slowed to a walk, panting. “That was fun!” declared Apple Bloom. “Just what I needed after being stuck sittin’ all day.”

Before the others could agree, though, the hut door opened and Hagrid came out. “Whot’s this,” he said in surprise seeing the tiny ponies outside his porch. While they were small compared to most people, their heads barely reaching to mid-thigh to the sixth and seventh year students, Hagrid dwarfed them. His boots were bigger than the ponies!

“Unicorn foals?” he said bending down for a closer look.

Harry hurriedly changed back. The others quickly changed forms, too. “Hi, Hagrid!” he said loudly, and waving to keep the big wizard’s attention off the fillies. He knew the half-giant couldn’t remember him from the brief time he had shepherded the Firsties across the lake. “I’m Harry Potter.”

Hagrid put his hands on his hips and laughed. “Hiya, Harry. I’d heard tha Gryffindor Ferst Years were animagi ponies.” He jovially eyed them. “So, yer ar’ unicorns, eh?”

“Yep!” answered Harry and changed back to a unicorn “Hermione and Sweetie Belle are unicorns while Ron and Apple Bloom are earth ponies.” He ran a quick circle around the half-giant. “Scootaloo and Ginny are pegasi. They’re over playing Quidditch right now.” He stopped and pointed off towards the Quidditch Pitch.

“Let meh take a look at yeh,” Hagrid said, lowering his hand.

“Okay,” said Harry. He stopped to let the wizard grab him around his barrel and lift him up to eye level.

“Hmm,” Hagrid said, turning Harry left and right. “Yer a bit different than the forest unicorns,” he said. “Besides being smaller, thet is. A bit thicker in the legs and yer eyes are much, much larger. Facin’ more forward, too.” He mused. “The muzzle is also shorter.” He paused. “I rekon the shape of yer muzzle lets yeh talk, too.”

“Oh, yes,” Harry said. “It feels like I’m talking normally. And my teeth and bite are arranged similar to people, except the canines are small and way back.” He opened his mouth wide and pulled his lips back.

Hagrid inspected him closely. “Yer right, I can see thet.”

“And I can even cast magic,” Harry added, shooting sparks from his horn.

“Now, thet isn’t somethin’ the forest unicorns canna do!” exclaimed Hagrid, looking impressed. “While thay can do magic, thay have to touch yeh wit’ thar horn to do anythin’.”

He set Harry carefully back down. “So’s,” he said, “I guess yer done wit’ yer classes fer tha day?”

“Uh, huh,” Harry affirmed.

“Wouldya like some tea?” he asked tilting his head slightly. “I just put a pot on.”

They looked at each other. After all their running, Harry was a bit thirsty. And the half-giant was the groundskeeper for the school, so he wasn’t a danger to any of them. And he did seem nice. Harry tilted his head towards the hut and arched his eyebrows while looking at his classmates. The others either shrugged or nodded.

“Sure, Hagrid. Sounds good.”

The rough wizard smiled broadly and opened the door. “Be careful o’ Fang. He’s harmless, but a bit enthusiastic.”

Fang, they discovered, was a dog almost big enough for them to saddle and ride as people. Harry hurriedly changed back to human form as they went in. “Make yerselves a home,” said Hagrid bustling over to his fireplace.

Fang spent a few moments inspecting and licking each of them before Hagrid finally hauled him back and made him go to his bed.

“Ah only got four cups, so you’ll have to share,” Hagrid explained, setting the aforementioned cups on a table that was almost as tall as they were, with only two chairs.

Hagrid did not get many visitors, it appeared.

The cups were big bowls with handles on them. As far as the kids were concerned, the cups were almost as big as the pots they used to make tea at home! In fact, the only way they could drink a full cup would be if they shared.

Harry and Sweetie Belle shared one chair, and a bowl of tea, while the other three sat on the bed. Ron got a bowl to himself, and seemed determined to finish it off.

Harry introduced the others as Hagrid placed rock cakes on the table and handed a second plate to Apple Bloom, who was sitting between Hermione and Ron.

Hagrid glanced at Ron “Another Weasley, eh?” He snorted. “I spend half me days chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest.”

Only Apple Bloom and Ron seemed to be able to chew shapeless lumps with raisins that Hagrid called rock cakes. Harry wouldn’t be surprised to discover that the “rock” in the name “rock cakes” was literal.

They took turns describing their lessons, so far.

“Professor Binn didn’t know he wer dead, eh?” Hagrid said. “Figgers. Well, can’t say I’m sad to hear yer’ll be getting a new perfessor. Can’t be worse at it, that’s fer sure. He always did put me to sleep.”

Hagrid looked at Ron. “And how’s yer brother Charlie?” he said. “Liked him a lot, I did, great with animals, he was.”

While Ron and Hagrid talked about Charlie’s work with dragons, Harry noticed a cutting from the Daily Prophet. It was on the table under the tea cosy.

It told of a break-in at Gringotts that happened the same day Harry and the Equestrians were there! Nothing had been stolen as the vault had been emptied just that morning. Harry showed the clipping to Sweetie Belle. She looked back at him, just as surprised. Someone had dared!? They shook their heads.

Harry looked up at the half-giant curiously. He had been in the bank that morning, too. Were the two somehow connected?

Hagrid saw what he was reading and nervously laughed. He handed Harry another rock cake and took the clipping back. “Amazin’ what some wizards’ll do ain’t it?” he mumbled, crumpling the paper in his hand and stuffing it in a pocket.

At Hagrid’s request, they all transformed and stood on his table while he studied them.

“Ain’t never seen colours like that on any horses or ponies,” he stated, shaking his head. “And yer earth ponies, yeh say?” He pointed at Ron and Apple Bloom.

They nodded, as Apple Bloom explained, “Earth ponies are skilled at green magic — making plants grow. Plus we’re stronger and faster than the unicorns or pegasi.”

That required a demonstration, so they all trooped outside. Apple Bloom selected one pumpkin plant and made it quickly ripen. And Harry, using his horn, showed off a few of the spells they had learned.

۸- ̫ -۸

Castor’s day had started early.

“Your Highness, I would like to introduce the United Kingdom’s Government Chief Scientific Adviser, Robert McCredie May, Baron May of Oxford. And this is Doctor of Physics, Michael B. Green, one of our leading experts on string-theory. Gentlemen, this is Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

And that had begun a marathon round of science and math discussions that had thrilled Twilight, reduced both men to near tears, and had left Castor completely in the dark.

Both men went back and forth through the portal no less than a dozen times. The world on the other side wasn’t nearly as interesting as the portal, itself, to them. That Twilight and Castor transformed as they went through the portal, and not the other two, had left them completely gobsmacked.

After the first hour back at the house, and filling an expanded wall-sized chalkboard, Twilight had said, “If we combine your Type I, Types IIA and IIB, and heterotic theories with our Alternates I, III, and V Magic theories, I think an eleven-dimensional comprehensive theory can be made to work.” She had already told them the Equestrian’s theories required at least eight dimensions, and, she had added, “We’ve managed to determine that two of those dimensions are directly related to magic.” Several hours later, after filling several more giant chalkboards and with a considerable amount of arguing, they had decided the new “M-Theory” was the answer. And that was “M” for either Magic or Mystery, depending on if the speaker knew about the Equestrians.

And the scientists were very envious of Twilight’s ability to hover three meters off the ground while taking a closer look at a previous chalk-board equation, its derivation, and final conclusion. And being floated with her was certainly a novel experience.

How it was possible for a macro-being to affect dimensions postulated to be smaller than a fraction of an atom in size was something to be discussed at another time.

Somewhere in that time they had lunch and dinner, but only Castor could have told anyone what they had eaten.

And their new briefcases were going to be guarded treasures for the rest of their lives — once they finished working out the mathematics that let them work, much less exist, without crashing all of creation!

۸- ̫ -۸

“You should have seen the Hufflepuffs floundering,” bragged Ginny at the dinner table, later that evening. “We beat them the way a beater beats a bludger — hard and without mercy!” She and Scootaloo giggled. “They never had a chance! We’re just too fast and nimble for them.

“Scootaloo accidentally showed them how tough a Pegasus is when she tried to make a tight turn chasing the snitch — we were taking turns. She went a shade wider than she intended and rammed a goal post head-on!” Scootaloo blushed. “She hung there a moment, then slid down the post. We all stopped and stared as she hit the ground.” Ginny took a drink of her juice. “I was just heading for her when Scootaloo staggered upright at the bottom of the goal post, shook her head a few times, and then launched herself back into the game. Her flying was a bit erratic, at first, but quickly smoothed out as the game continued.”

Scootaloo grinned. “Pegasi are tough!”

One of the Ravenclaws near Harry asked, “Shouldn’t someone have gone for Madam Pomfrey?”

“Nah,” Apple Bloom said, “Pegasi have heads like rocks. Almost as smart, too.”

Scootaloo stuck her tongue out at Bloom, then sighed. She glanced down at her hip and regretfully said, “No Cutie Mark, though.”

The other two Equestrians also sighed.

“Cutie Mark?” queried a Ravenclaw as the other Gryffindors looked up, too, interested in the answer.

“Cutie Marks define your special magical talent,” explained Sweetie Belle. “We’ve been trying everything we could think of for the last two years to see if that was our special talent, but with no luck.”

“What?” the Ravenclaw said, voicing the puzzlement that everyone else was showing.

Harry sighed and interrupted. “Where these three come from,” he waved his hand at the three fillies, “when you find the one thing that you are especially talented at, the one thing that you enjoy doing the most with your magic, then magic gifts you with a symbol on your hips that shows everyone what you’re especially good at.” His audience nodded, but was still clearly uncertain of what he meant.

Harry thought for a moment. “For example, Apple Bloom’s sister runs the family farm. She loves nothing better than caring for her trees, harvesting apples, and seeing people enjoy the literal fruits of her labour. She got her cutie mark when she realized that that was what made her happy, when she realized she had to be true to herself. Her cutie mark is three Apples.” Everyone stared at Apple Bloom, then back at Harry.

“Sweetie Belle’s sister got her cutie mark when she was making costumes for a school play. Everyone liked the costumes, but she felt something just wasn’t right. She liked making clothes, and even thought she might like to do more of that.”

Several of the listening girls nodded. They could understand that.

“Then, just when she was beginning to doubt herself the most, to think that maybe she should give up on making costumes and clothes, she went outside, the night before the performance and followed a pull on her magic. She discovered a bunch of gems, and realized what was missing from her costumes. She decorated the costumes with gems and when she saw how everyone loved her creations during the play, she knew that she wanted nothing more than to be the best fashion designer in the country. And her Cutie Mark appeared, three gems.”

He smiled, “She made our school robes.”

They all looked at the robes Harry and the fillies were wearing.

Lavender Brown spoke up. “By the way, those aren’t real gems, are they?” she asked, pointing at the thumb-sized buttons on their robes.

Harry looked down at his as Sweetie Belle said proudly, “Oh, yes, they are. Rarity would never use anything but the best materials for her creations.” She pointed at the yellow, almost gold-coloured gem at the top of her robes. “This is a yellow oval sapphire.” Then she pointed at the red one below it. “And this one is an oval ruby.”

The other students stared at them. The two sets of gems alternated down the length of their robes.

“Blimey!” Ron said breathlessly.

“Yeah,” whispered Lavender beside him.

Dean looked up and down the robes. “Just one of those gems is more’n my dad makes in a year, And there must be a dozen on each of your robes!”

The fillies looked around, surprised.

“Really?” said Scootaloo. “I didn’t think they were worth all that much.” She shrugged.

“Rarity’s got a bucket of them in all kinds of colors in her workroom,” Sweetie Belle said. “Most are much smaller than these, though.”

“Bucket?” said Sean dazedly as everyone nodded dazedly.

“Huh,” Scootaloo said. She looked over at Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. “Guess that must be why the Goblins gave us so much for that bag of gems we gave them.” The other two shrugged.

The listening Gryffindors goggled at the idea of anyone talking so casually about a bag of such gems.

She grinned widely, “Pretty good for what we thought would only be enough for snacks through the year.” The other two giggled. Their audience exchanged amazed looks.

“And magic does this cutie mark stuff?” said Lily, bringing them back to the original subject.

“Uh huh,” confirmed Apple Bloom.

“I wonder why we’ve never heard of anything like that,” mused Neville. “I’m sure Gran or uncle Alfie would have mentioned it if they had ever heard of such a thing.”

The rest of dinner passed in relative quiet as the other Gryffindors mulled over what they had learned about the foreign students.

And Harry saw that Professor McGonagall was still peeved at the Headmaster. He was almost positive he saw her hex him, but that couldn’t be right. Professors would never do something like that, would they?

They spent the evening in the library doing their class assignments, to the dismay of all the witches waiting in Gryffindor for the cuddlesome ponies.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

* italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

52 — Snape’s Worst Nightmare

Harry examined the schedule during breakfast on Friday.

“Double Potions with the Slytherins?” said Ron, looking up from his copy. “Snape’s. The twins said he always favours the Slytherins. He’s their Head of Slytherin House. We’ll see if it’s true.”

Harry sighed. Professor McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn’t stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework. “Wish McGonagall favoured us.”

It was colder down in the dungeons, where Potions lessons took place, than up in the main castle. It was quite creepy enough without adding the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Those grossed out and upset the fillies, making them turn a little green.

Harry and the fillies seated themselves and pulled out their quills and paper.

Snape, like all the professors, started the class by taking the roll call. However, like Flitwick, he paused when he reached Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity.” He spaced out the syllables of the last word.

Harry and the fillies exchanged puzzled looks. What had Harry done to deserve that kind of reaction? Harry had the feeling that Professor Snape was going to be inordinately strict.

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle stupidly sniggered behind their hands as if the professor had made a joke. After taking attendance, Snape looked up at the class. While he had black eyes like Hagrid, they were cold and empty, not full of warmth.

His introductory speech was spell-binding, but the ending note, “. . . if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach,” was sour, and indicated his disdain for the class.

Afterwards, the only sound Harry could hear was the faint scritching of his and Sweetie Belle’s quill taking notes. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the fillies exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to prove that she wasn’t a dunderhead.

Snape stared at Harry — or was he staring at Harry’s quill taking notes? — sneering.

“Potter!” said Snape suddenly, making everyone jump. “If I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, what would I get?”

Hermione’s hand shot up into the air.

Harry was glad he had taken the time last night for one more walk through his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. He thought, remembering. Fortunately, the text usually mentioned the most common uses for each of the items listed. “Sir,” he said respectfully, “asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death.”

The professor looked disgruntled at his answer. He pursed his lips, then said, “If I told you to find me a bezoar, Potter, where would you look?”

Hermione began urgently waving her hand.

Harry considered his answer. “I would get it out of my kit, sir, as it is one of the regular items in a First Year’s Potion’s Kit.”

The professor frowned and his eyes narrowed, clearly displeased. “And if it weren’t there?”

“Then, sir, I would check the hospital stores here at Hogwarts as it is a common cure for most poisons. If that failed, I would see if there were any goats around because a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, sir”

The professor looked furious.

Harry couldn’t understand what was upsetting the wizard. Wasn’t he answering the questions properly? Wasn’t he being respectful? Or was he going to be like Uncle Vernon? Quick to criticize and take offense at anything you said.

“What is the difference, Potter,” he said softly, “between wolfsbane and monkshood?”

Hermione stood up, her hand as high as possible.

Harry smiled, he could almost see the text from his book floating in front of his eyes. “They are the same plant, sir, which also goes by the name of aconite.”

Snape was not pleased with Harry’s answer, almost grinding his teeth together.

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?” He said to the rest of the class, and then now glared at Harry’s quill.

Over the noise or everyone rummaging for quills and parchment, Snape said, “And I will take a point from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”

Snape began the lesson by putting them all into pairs, and then set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils.

Unfortunately, he paired Neville with Sweetie Belle, both of whom were sitting beside Harry and Bloom. Harry hoped Neville might be able to prevent a catastrophe.

Apple Bloom shot to her feet, hand raised high, “Professor Snape! I think Sweetie Belle should have me as a partner and Neville, Harry!”

As one, the entire class turned and stared at the obviously insane Gryffindor, then turned and stared at their professor.

Professor Snape glared at her, one eyebrow raised in disdain. “Oh?” he sneered.

The class turned to Apple Bloom.

Apple Bloom, from years of being glared at by her sister in the aftermath of a Cutie Mark Crusade, shrugged it off and continued. “Yes sir. The last time we let Sweetie Belle fix something she set the kitchen on fire!” She lowered her hand.

The class turned to their professor.

The bat-like wizard stiffened at the perceived insult, “The art of potion-making is nothing like mere cooking,” he sneered angrily. “Cease your pathetic attempt at hiding your abysmal abilities by shifting attention to another. Start your assignment.”

The class turned to Apple Bloom.

“But sir,” Apple Bloom persisted, “She was getting’ us ice cream from the ice box!”

The class turned to stare at Sweetie Belle, who was standing with her hands on her hips staring angrily, in turn, at Apple Bloom.

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes and, after a quick glance at the red-faced and glaring Sweetie Bell, said, “Nonetheless, unless you wish a detention this weekend, be quiet and get to work!” After a barely a moment’s pause, he added, “And a point off for questioning my judgement.”

Apple Bloom sighed. “Yes, sir!” She muttered to Harry, “Well, I tried.”

The Slytherins closest to Sweetie Belle took a long look at the red-faced girl and began moving their books and equipment to other desks — ones at the edge of the classroom. The Gryffindors on her other side watched the Slytherins, wide-eyed, and decided to follow their example. Soon, Sweetie Belle and Neville were surrounded by a ring of empty desks except for Harry and Apple Bloom.

While Sweetie and Bloom were at the cabinet getting the supplies not included in their potion’s kits, Harry urgently whispered, “Neville!”

Neville turned to look at him.

“Keep a sharp eye on Sweetie Belle, she’s horrible at following cooking instructions! Her sister banned her from setting foot in the kitchen. She's not even allowed to go in to get a glass of water!”

Neville gave him an uncertain nod and watched Sweetie Belle return with nervous apprehension.

Professor Snape criticized everyone except Malfoy. He watched them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when there was a loud sneeze, a yelp, and then clouds of bright lavender smoke filled the dungeon. Neville and Sweetie Belle had managed to mess up their potion. Harry couldn’t see anything through the smoke except the bottoms of their tables and stools. The class abandoned their cauldrons and began to spill out into the corridor, coughing little lavender puffs as they tried to clear their lungs.

“Idiots!” snarled Snape in a high pitch, clearing the smoke with a wave of his wand. “What did you do?” He had a bubble of clear air around his head.

Sweetie Belle and Neville quailed under his menacing stare. The Slytherins, those that weren’t still coughing a bit, snickered. Then gasped as they stared at their Head of House with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Sweetie Belle took a breath, coughed, then tried again. “It was almost time to add the porcupine quills when I saw a hair just inside the cauldron, so I grabbed a porcupine quill and used it to hook the hair.” She coughed lightly. “But the potion’s smell made me sneeze and I dropped the quill and hair into the cauldron. Then that lavender smoke started to pour up!”

One of the Slytherin girls suddenly yelled, “I’m a boy!” A second later one of the boys screeched and yelled, “Merlin, I’m a girl!” He was grabbing himself through his robes. Snape’s eyes suddenly widened as he looked down. Then he turned and glowered at the two Gryffindors. If looks could kill, both Neville and Sweetie Belle would have exploded into flames.

Chaos reigned for several seconds as the Gryffindors and remaining Slytherins confirmed that the lavender smoke had, indeed, reversed their genders as well.

“To the hospital wing,” Snape spat at them in a surprising soprano tone. Then she rounded on Harry and Apple Bloom, who had been working next to Neville.

“Potter — why didn’t you tell her to use one of her stirring rods? Thought she’d make you look good if she got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”

Harry was so flummoxed at the unfairness of the accusation that he could only stare and gape as the professor turned back to Neville and Sweetie Belle.

As they headed for the hospital wing, Harry mulled over what had happened. His ire rose as he considered how that hack of a professor dared to criticize him and take a point for something he had no control over. He scowled angrily at the floor, wondering how he could take revenge.

Plus, he was now a girl! How could things get worse?

He heard Ron mutter, “I sure hope the Hospital Matron can fix this!” Harry felt like kicking Ron for jinxing them.

Naturally, she couldn’t.

“You’ll have to wait until it wears off!” Madam Pomfrey had said. “If it doesn’t wear off in a week, we’ll call St. Mungo’s.”

Even changing to ponies and back, didn’t cure Harry and the other animagi. Even as ponies their genders were still reversed. And it felt so weird!

No matter which form they had had originally.

But it was amusing to watch the girls-turned-boys as they tried to walk and sit the way they normally did, and certain things got in the way or were painfully pinched.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Even though it was a nice afternoon outside, the Gryffindor First Year cohort huddled in the Gryffindor common room. They resolutely worked on their assignments in an attempt to take their minds off what had happened in Potions Class. The occasional snickers and broad grins whenever an upper-year student looked at them were bad enough, they didn’t dare think how the rest of the school would react.

Harry assumed the Slytherins were holed up in their common room doing the same thing for the same reason. Or, holed up in an empty room in the dungeon, considering their Head of House’s white-hot temper at his — or was it her? — unwanted sex-change.

While they knew it really wasn’t their fault, most of the Firsties couldn’t help but scowl at Sweetie Belle and Neville. Harry, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom tried to be supportive, but both Neville and the poor filly were still depressed over their failed first potions’ lesson. And its aftermath.

The twins, when they showed up after their last class were delighted at Sweetie’s genius, as they called it, for inventing a gender-swap potion. They grilled her and Neville carefully for half an hour before begging them for a few hairs and then running back out into the castle. Harry shuddered at what they might produce with that information and hair. He had already heard of their many prank exploits.

So it was, that the Gryffindor Firstie cohort managed to finish all their weekend assignments shortly before their dinner. They tried to beg out of it, but Percy and the other Prefects were merciless. “A simple potions accident is not reason to skip dinner,” was the ruling. As a result, most of dinner was spent with the rest of the school snickering and laughing at the unfortunate First Years as they tried and failed to be inconspicuous. The only good point was that the Slytherin students were heckled worse than the Gryffindors were.

Not surprisingly, Professor Snape did not make an appearance at the Head Table, to Professor McGonagall’s immense amusement.

Not to mention the out-right laughter of most of the rest of the school that didn’t have the potions’ professor as their Head of House whenever it was mentioned.

After dinner was when the latest difficulty appeared. The stairs turned into a slide just a moment after the first girl-transformed-into-a-boy stepped onto them. Dean discovered that a boy-transformed-into-a-girl could easily walk up the steps. While it wasn’t a pressing issue at the moment — the witches still wanted their “cuddle” time with the ponies — as Ron said, accompanied by a shudder, “No way am I going to sleep in the girl’s dorm tonight!”

Several of the upper-year girls and boys snickered at this declaration. “You’ll be singing a different tune in a few years, my boys, if you have such an opportunity,” Harry heard one murmur.

Percy, on seeing their problem, said, “I’ll go get Professor McGonagall,” and started for the Gryffindor door.

“Neigh. No need to do that,” Sweetie Belle said. “Alicia,” she said to the chaser, who was laughing at the First Years’ difficulties, along with the rest of the students still in the common room. “Would you please get my trunk? We can use it to get to Apple Bloom’s trunk and skip the stairs completely.” While they waited for her to return, she added, “And we can use the two trunks’ bathrooms to get ready for bed.” And forestalled Percy’s complaint about how inappropriate it would be for the girls-turned-boys to use the Girls’ Dorm facilities. Because, of course, they were now boys.

It took less than ten minutes to fetch the trunk and determine that that was a workable solution.

Later, when the Firsties’ curfew arrived, Harry shook his head resignedly and trudged up the stairs to his room, the other boys . . . girls, trailing him. They used his trunk’s bathroom to get ready for bed — one at a time. None wanted the others to see himself as a girl in anything less than pyjamas — bottoms and tops.

۸- ̰ -۸

Also that evening, in the Headmaster’s meeting room, the Headmaster leaned back in his chair. He was waiting for the professors to come in after dinner for their scheduled first-week analysis of the First Years.

After two years of dealing with the Terrible Twins, as the staff called them, they had thought they were used to mayhem. This week was already showing them that they had been sorely mistaken.

It was shaping up to be an exciting year, in many different ways, Dumbledore mused. And painful, he thought, deliberately not rubbing the sore spot on his arse where Minerva had hexed him earlier in the day. She was quite good, he had discovered, at hexing him unexpectedly. And had an uncanny ability to hit the same spots repeatedly. He hadn’t expected her to be so vindictive for so long. Perhaps she would settle down after this meeting?

“Well,” he said, as Professor Sinistra settled into her chair, “It has been an exciting week, hasn’t it?” He glanced around the table at his staff, his eyes twinkling.

Snape’s glare back at him, and the rest of the professors, was nothing short of incendiary.

The other Professors had great difficulty keeping straight faces. Considering the Potion Professor’s reputation for a temper, none wanted to test it when it was already stretched to the breaking point.

“Some of you already know this, but for those that don’t: We have sixteen pure-bloods starting this year, eight of the twenty boys are heirs and eight of the twenty-four girls are heiresses. There are three foreign pure-bloods, as well, Miss Sweetie Belle, Miss Scoot Aloo, and Miss Apple Bloom, although only Miss Aloo appears to be an heiress,” he summarized.

“The foreigners are reluctant to name their home country, preferring to say that they are from a small town called Ponyville, instead. But rumours suggest that their home might be Atlantis.” That caused a stir in the room as the professors murmured and exchanged speculative or surprised looks, although Minerva was still glaring at him, to Quirinus’ and Severus’ temporary amusement. He could tell Severus was amused because her scowl lessened ever so little whenever she saw McGonagall’s expression while looking at Dumbledore.

“If true, that would explain their reluctance. If it came out that they were from Atlantis, I can’t imagine the attention they would get. And the Ministry would feel obligated to become involved, I’m sure.” He shook his head.

“It is ruled by two or three Princesses, I’m not sure of the exact number. The three girls’ attendance at Hogwarts is being sponsored by these princesses.” He paused, stroked his beard, and then said, “Miss Belle is capable of wandless magic, and has apparently taught Mister Potter that skill as well. Both are capable of apparition, as is Miss Granger, another of the Gryffindor First Years.”

The professors gasped as one.

“Surely you are jesting, Headmaster,” Professor Snape scoffed. “No child that young and new to a wand could master that skill!”

“No.” he replied. “No jest.” He shook his head slowly, his eyes twinkling. “In point of fact, Miss Twilight Sparkle, one of the adult . . . Atlanteans . . . Minerva and I have met, the one who seems to be their leader here in Britain, had Mr. Potter demonstrate his ability. He did so without using a wand — he had not yet picked up his wand from Ollivanders. Then, as I watched, she created a brand new version of the apparition spell that removes all its distasteful side-effects. And made it safer.”

“Mr. Potter apparated without a wand?” gasped Professor McGonagall, surprise replacing her glare.

“You say she created a new version?” Professor Flitwick asked incredulously.

The other professors simply stared in various stages of disbelief.

The old wizard nodded. “I saw her do so. She said she was adapting their teleportation spell to work with a wand. She then proceeded to teach Miss Granger how to successfully use the spell in less than half-an-hour. With a borrowed wand.”

The room was silent.

“The Ministry is currently evaluating her new version before releasing it to the public.”

“In addition, the Gryffindor First Year cohort has seven students who are animagi — three are the foreigners. I saw them teach Ginny Weasley how to become her pegasus animagus, which took less than a morning.”

He could see both Minerva and Filius re-evaluating their opinions of the magical potential of those particular students.

“Mr. Weasley tells me that by the next day they had taught all the Weasley children, to become animagi, as well as the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team.” He looked over at Professor McGonagall and smiled at her stunned expression. “Yes, Minerva, half of your Quidditch team, Mr Wood, and Misses Johnson and Spinnet, are pegasi animagi. Who knows what effect that will have on their playing abilities? We all know that some of an animagi’s animal senses and reactions bleed over to their human side.” His smile broadened as her eyes widened in understanding.

Albus looked at Severus, who was scowling furiously. Whether that was at hearing the disadvantage her team would face or the fact that Gryffindor had thirteen children who were animagi, while her House had none, was impossible to tell.

“At thirteen animagi,” Dumbledore said, “they almost triple the number of registered animagi in Britain in the last century. And the seven First Years make the most registered in any one year, with the four Third Year students the second most.

“It is odd, though, that all of them are variations on ponies,” he said thoughtfully. “I have never heard of such a close grouping of animagi animals, usually they are quite random.” He shook his head mildly. He looked over at his transfiguration’s professor, but she was still lost in considering how the Gryffindor Quidditch team might benefit from being pegasi animagi.

For a moment, he considered telling them that Molly had also mastered that skill. But that had nothing to do with the school, so he would leave that off the table. Still, including Molly meant the Weasley family, by itself, almost doubled the number of animagi in England from seven to thirteen.

“And all of that was before they arrived at our wonderful school,” he added.

He glanced around at the listening professors.

“Why didn’t you tell us all this before session started?” asked Minerva, coming back to the conversation and clearly upset at having such important accomplishments kept secret until now. Well, at least she wasn’t glaring at him anymore.

“I didn’t want to prejudice your opinions of them before you had a chance to see them in a classroom environment,” he explained. “I wanted you to judge them solely on their classwork, and what you saw of them in your classes. I feared you might otherwise have unreasonable expectations on their abilities or treat them as more than just new First Year students, or foreigners who are First Year students. Warning you beforehand would have inflated your expectations of their schoolwork, leading you to unfairly judge their skills more harshly than you would have normally.”

He noticed that Quirinus was nodding his head and paying close attention.

“To recap the week, Monday morning,” the Headmaster went on, “Miss Scootaloo — apparently completely by accident — managed to assist Professor Binns to his next great adventure by informing him that he was deceased, and had been for some time.” He chuckled as did most of the staff. He cleared his throat. “I am still looking for a prospective replacement. Any suggestions you might have for a suitable candidate would be appreciated.” He looked around hopefully, then sighed at the multitude of heads shaking, ‘no.’ Severus merely glared at him.

“Monday afternoon they threw the entire school into a tizzy as Misters Potter and Ron Weasley, and Misses Aloo, Bloom, Belle, Granger, and Ginny Weasley displayed their animagus forms.”

“Tuesday, Mr. Potter managed to disrupt most of the school with a display of a charm he called the ‘Book Manifestation Spell’ that lets one enter a book for learning. It is a simple, yet powerful tool for learning, as I found in my own explorations with it. I’m sure it will revolutionize teaching. Filius,” he nodded at the diminutive wizard, “can answer any questions you might have about it. He is quite impressed with how it has improved the study habits of the Gryffindors, and their attention in class. He is reserving judgement on if it will improve their assignments.”

“Thursday, Mr. Ron Weasley and Miss Bloom apparently were ambushed by the Walking Plants in Greenhouse Number One. As a result, Pomona,” he nodded in her direction as she smiled, “has the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff First Years carrying the plants through the school and casting diagnostic spells on the plants after every class.” He smiled back at her, eyes twinkling, “She has promised to tell us the results of her impromptu study at our next meeting. I am quite looking forward to it.

“And then today, Miss Sweetie Belle apparently reversed the gender of everyone in her Gryffindor/Slytherin Potions class. Severus, could you tell us about that?”

With much grumbling and asides as to the uselessness of the Gryffindor dunderheads in general, she explained what had happened. The mirthful looks on her fellow professors’ faces when they heard her speak did not make the telling of the tale any pleasanter for her. After finishing, she crossed her arms under her chest and glowered menacingly at everyone, daring them to say anything.

It was surprisingly effective, despite her new gender and shape.

“And Poppy? Any insights?”

Madam Pomfrey, the school Healer, sighed. “I don’t know how the potion did what it did, but it switched their genders. I’ve studied the sample provided by Severus, as has he, and we have reached no conclusions on how long this condition will last or if it is permanent. For the moment, I suggest we merely wait it out and hope it wears off in a reasonable amount of time.

“In the meantime, the students are not unduly upset at the situation and I believe it might be a good learning experience once the potion wears off.”

“An excellent thought.” The Headmaster nodded sagely. “Is there anything else of note about this year’s incoming students?”

Professor McGonagall spoke up. “The Gryffindor First Years seem remarkably unified this year. They are rarely separated, forming a large study group in the common room.” She sighed, “And they have discovered that working together makes the research for assignments much easier. They readily share what each learns, coaching any who seem to not understand. Their assignments are much more detailed than most First Years, and also more uniform — there are only so many ways you can describe the skills used to turn a match into a needle. Fortunately, I haven’t yet seen anyone trying to copy another’s work.”

She frowned. “Percy Weasley tells me they even stick together when exploring the grounds outside. He has also told me that the three foreign girls have shown an interest in the Forbidden Forest. They seemed to regard the dangers in it as ‘not very impressive’ after he had warned them. They told him that they had run into cockatrices, timber-wolves, hydras, and chimeras in the woods by their home town! Miss Aloo was even heard to say something about ‘Cutie Mark Crusaders Giant Spider Wranglers’ to her friends.”

The professors were astonished at such claims.

“Nonsense!” burst out the Potions’ Professor. “Fantasies! There is no way that those dunderheads could have seen any of those creatures and survived! Very few adult wizards could have managed that.” She scowled heavily.

Ignoring Professor Snape, Minerva continued. “Miss Belle said that Miss Sparkle had run into a cockatrice and been turned to stone, only to be rescued by another witch, Miss Flutter Shy, who used a power Miss Belle called ‘The Stare’ to get the cockatrice to release her. Not a spell or potion, notice. Miss Belle was quite clear that this was an ability that only Miss Shy seems to have.” There were more than a few raised eyebrows at that. “She claimed the animals were Miss Shy’s special talent.”

“Bah! A figment of her imagination!” Severus once more interjected, still scowling. Being of the opposite sex had done nothing to curb her scepticism, or her sharp tongue.

Minerva just stared at her. “Nonetheless, she provided enough details on her various adventures to convince Percy Weasley she was telling the truth, as difficult as it may seem,” she said flatly. “He asked her about tatzlwurms and ursa majors and minors that they had also mentioned encountering, creatures he didn’t know. Apparently, a tatzlwurm and an ursa minor have attacked their town over the past year and been driven off or taken away by Miss Sparkle. The tatzlwurm is a class four-X creature whose home is in the Alps, you may or may not know. Miss Belle described the ursa minor as a baby stellar bear, a bear whose hide looks like the night sky. The ursa minor was as big as a house, it would seem.”

“Ha! Fictions they created to impress their gullible classmates, I’d say,” Professor Snape said as she again disparaged the stories.

Dumbledore stared at the scowling professor. “Severus, you would have said the same about the seven Gryffindor First Year’s animagus ability — which most of us here have seen them do on the grounds — and the abilities of Mr. Potter, Miss Belle, and Miss Granger to apparate, which I have witnessed myself. Please keep an open mind.”

Scowling even more darkly, the professor nodded and looked away.

The Headmaster looked back at the rest of the professors. “We can easily verify the stories by sending an owl to Miss Sparkle,” the Headmaster suggested. “We should have an answer soon enough as to how vivid an imagination these children have.” He would send the owl tonight.

Dumbledore studied his staff. His professor of Transfigurations had an expression that he knew usually meant she had something to bring up about her students that she found discomfiting.

Minerva cleared her throat and looked somewhat embarrassed. “Percy also told me that the girls wanted to know the name of the cerberus on the third floor.” She sighed. “And if he liked tummy rubs.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

۸- ̰ -۸

53 — They did WHAT?

“The three witches had at first thought that Fluffy,” she shook her head in disbelief, “was their Princess Celestia’s pet, ‘Woofy,’ who had somehow wandered away from his guard-post at the entrance to Tartarus — apparently the Greeks were actually describing a place in Atlantis where they keep dangerous monsters.” She gave him an incredulous look. “A cerberus as a pet? Woofy?” She shook her head. “This Princess Celestia is as bad as Hagrid!”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

“They were returning from Astronomy class and the Central stairs ‘conspired’ — their word — to abandon them on the third floor. Mrs. Norris saw them and alerted Argus,” she nodded at the squib who smiled and stroked the cat in his lap, whispering praises in her ear as she purred loud enough to interfere with hearing others speak.

He looked up at the Headmaster. “They should be given a detention!” he demanded. “They’ve admitted to breaking the rules!”

The Headmaster smiled at him, “As they were returning from Astronomy class, I don’t believe they can be accused of deliberately disobeying instructions,” he said.

“Bah!” declared Mr. Filch, “You let them get away with everything,” he said grumpily. “Always coddling them. They need a good dose of discipline!” He scowled. “Not like the old days . . . ,” his voice faded into quiet murmuring as he hunched over his cat and stared at the table-top, mumbling imprecations.

Minerva sighed. “Anyway, correctly thinking that Argus wouldn’t believe they were returning from Astronomy class,” she glared at the oblivious squib still petting his cat, “they ran and found themselves trapped at the end of the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side. Naturally,” she rolled her eyes, “they opened the locked door to hide from Argus, and hid inside listening for Argus to leave.”

She shook her head. “Fluffy was sleeping, at first, and it was dark, so they didn’t immediately notice him. Miss Belle told Percy that once the girls decided that the cerberus wasn’t their princess’ pet, ‘Woofy,’ and wasn’t interested in tummy rubs or ear scratches, they left, ‘rather quickly,’”

His Deputy looked up at him. “I told you that mentioning anything about that corridor was a terrible idea. A simple notice-me-not with an alarm charm would have sufficed.” Before he could object, she added, “And a simple amulet and key would have allowed Hagrid the access he needs.” She frowned, “As it is, Argus has already sent fifteen students to detentions because they were in that particular corridor.”

Filch looked up and smiled, then muttered more praises to his cat.

“Almost all the detentions were Gryffindors,” Professor Snape snarked nastily, getting a glare in response from the Head of Gryffindor House.

“We’re lucky no one has been maimed or killed,” she concluded.

“Hmm, yes. Perhaps so,” was all Dumbledore could say in response. “I’m rather surprised so many students would disobey my instructions.” A slight frown creased his forehead as he considered this.

The professors at the table rolled their eyes and exchanged glances.

“You didn’t forbid them to go there, Albus,” Filius said. “You told them not to go there unless they wished a horrible death. That’s the difference between an instruction and a warning.”

“Yes, perhaps a notice-me-not should be employed,” the Headmaster mused quietly.

His eyes twinkled as he looked around the table once more. “Anyone else have something to contribute regarding our unique Gryffindors?”

Madam Pince spoke next. “The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are quite taken with them.”

Filius raised his eyebrows in surprise. Apparently, his Prefects hadn’t told him of this development. Nor had he noticed himself. Sprout didn’t seem as surprised.

“That ‘Book Manifestation Spell’ has led them to joining the Gryffindors in the library in the hopes of picking up any other useful spells the foreigners might be willing to share,” the librarian went on. “And not just the First Years, alone.

“It makes it a bit noisy at times, but it’s almost always related to studies and not horsing around, so it’s bearable up to a point.” She paused and thought a moment. “The problem is that the Library isn’t set up for large groups.” She looked up at the Headmaster. “Do you think the house-elves could open up a door from the library to one of the unused classrooms just outside the library? Perhaps two? On either side of the entrance? I would like to set aside an area for a large group to use where they won’t interfere with the upper-year students who are trying to study for their OWLs or NEWTs. Or provide a quieter space for those students studying for their tests.”

Eyes twinkling, the Headmaster said, “I’d be happy to task them with that. The new rooms will be ready by Monday.”

“With one wall a window on each so I may keep an eye on them,” she added hopefully.

The old wizard nodded agreeably.

Outside of praise for how hard working and polite this particular year’s Gryffindors were, there was nothing more specific about them. The conversation then drifted over to the other Houses’ First Years. And then to more mundane matters.

۸-_-۸

Saturday morning started off cheerfully enough. Harry woke as he heard Seamus say, “Oh, thank god! I’m a boy again!” Dean and Ron quickly echoed him, relief evident in their voices.

“And we’re girls, again,” Hermione declared, having just stepped out of Harry’s trunk with Scootaloo. “Except Sweetie and Bloom,” she added as they started to appear on the trunk elevator. “I think they’ll take longer to change back because they were closer to Neville and Sweetie’s cauldron.”

Harry sighed, and said in a tone higher than normal, “Yeah. I get that.” He was still a girl. A resigned soprano sigh from Neville’s bed announced that he, too, was still a girl.

Most of the Gryffindor Firsties were back to their normal gender. Only Harry, Neville, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were still reversed. By the time breakfast was over, first Apple Bloom, and then Harry, had reverted to their normal gender.

It was definitely related to how much smoke they had been exposed to and/or inhaled. The farther away one was, the sooner one returned to normal, it appeared. Now that it was over, the First Years’ began to regard the whole incident as a grand lark — they all agreed that using the toilets was quite a strange experience.

The twins called it a great prank, which seriously worried the members of the other Houses. The twins were especially pleased to hear the details on timing and rushed off after hurriedly finishing breakfast. Except for eating in the Great Hall, they were not seen for the rest of the weekend. That this left most of the student body at Hogwarts troubled — and all the professors — would be an understatement. The Slytherins were seen practicing food-based poison-detection charms for the rest of the weekend. An activity which quickly spread to the other Houses.

Several impromptu classes were set up that morning in the common rooms for the older, more experienced students to teach the younger ones the necessary charms.

And in the Gryffindor Common Room, prominently displayed beside the entrance, appeared a new sign. In big print, visible from across the room, it said:

۸-ꞈ-۸

ATTENTION ALL GRYFFINDORS!

1) Students are not allowed to ask ghosts if they are dead. It is rude.
2) Students are not allowed to exorcize or assist local ghosts to their next great adventure without ADVANCE permission from the Headmaster.
..a) Yes, this includes Peeves, no matter how aggravating he may be.

۸- ̫ -۸

There was much snickering on the way to breakfast.

The twins again hailed Sweetie Belle’s and Neville’s potion as a great prank, reinforcing the worries of the members of the other Houses. At dinner that evening, even the professors were seen surreptitiously casting detection charms on their dinners and drinks.

Unfortunately, as everyone later discovered, such detection charms were designed to find poisons. As in, substances that caused temporary or permanent harm to the ingester. Temporarily changing one’s gender, it seemed, was not considered a poison by those charms as it didn’t impair or alter a person’s ability to reason or function. And, except for the surprise of the change, it didn’t emotionally manipulate them in any way, either.

After learning the food scanning charms, the Gryffindor Firsties spent most of Saturday morning re-reading and correcting their weekend assignments — or at least that’s what the more studious of them did. The others played games while they waited for the potion to wear off the last two victims. To everyone’s relief, at mid-morning first Neville, and then ten minutes later, Sweetie Belle returned to their original gender.

Urged on by the twins — betting may have been involved — the pegasi challenged the Ravenclaw Quidditch team to a game, with the time-limit of lunch. They called themselves the Power Pony Pegasi. This time, one would be a goal keeper, two were beaters and two were chasers. They would forego having a Seeker as Scootaloo had begged off. As thrilling as it was to chase the snitch when it appeared, she wanted to fly and stretch her wings. She had decided it was too boring just flying in circles for an hour or more trying to find a hiding snitch. It was far more fun to be in the thick of the scrum.

She had tricks she had seen Dash do that she wanted to see if she could do them, too.

“But I haven’t finished Ghostly Spells, yet!” Hermione complained as they dragged her by one hand out of the castle as the Quidditch game was being organized.

“But don’t you want to see how many spells you can cast as a unicorn?” Harry interrupted her rant.

She stopped dead, jerking her hand from his, and stood still, staring at the forest. “Oh!” she said softly. And then transformed into a unicorn. “Let’s see,” she mumbled, chewing her lower lip and staring up at the tip of her horn. “I’ve already done lumos, nox,” her horn lit up and went out as she named the charms, “verimillious, periculum,” green and red sparks showered forth. “Alohomora, colloportus,” Harry heard the doors behind them click and clack, “and reparo.” Somewhere to the side of them, something went click! “Those were easy.” She sighed.

Harry nodded, as the non-ponies stared.

“I’m gonna check out that Whomping Willow,” Apple Bloom said. “I ain’t never heard of a tree like that.” She stared off at it at the edge of the lawn. “It might be fun to play with. Sorta like dodgeball without worrying about bustin’ or losing the balls.” Ron looked conflicted for a moment as he watched her trot off in that direction.

The other three ponies slowly walked across the lawn. The remaining Gryffindors either headed over to watch the Quidditch game or followed the ponies. Ron had made his decision and was headed over to the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione would say a spell’s name and the three unicorns would try to cast it. They became as proficient at the finite incantatem counter-charm in pony form as they were as wizard and witches. Harry contributed a few charms and jinxes he had learned from his book Curses and Counter-curses. Seeing a bald pony was shocking and they quickly decided to never cast that one on a pony ever again. However, the other students around them thought it was hilarious. Especially when the hair-growing charm gave Harry two-foot-long fur before they could stop it.

It took several sets of baldness and hair growing before they finally timed it so that he merely looked a bit scruffy instead of a giant oblong ball of hair that you couldn’t tell the front from the back.

Harry thought Seamus was about to have an accident, he was laughing so hard.

It was when Apple Bloom started playing with the Whomping Willow — playing dodge the swinging branch — that things took a down-turn. The others had stopped just out of the way of the flailing branches.

Besides trying to hit anything that came close to it, Apple Bloom discovered a little known fact about the Whomping Willow that had escaped previous years’ Hogwarts’ students. The tree also lobbed blobs of sap if you annoyed it long enough. Apparently, it used the sap to slow down anything close and make it easier to hit. Or at least chase away the nuisance. And it was rather good at targeting, they discovered, to their dismay!

Apple Bloom got hit by several good-sized sticky splashes, each at least the size of Harry’s fist as a person, before she could dart out of range. Unfortunately, the tree had seemingly decided that the bystanders were somehow involved and manged to score a few hits on Harry, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle — and a few other unfortunate Gryffindor wizards and witches. Pretty good for a tree that didn’t have eyes! Harry suspected its roots picked up the vibrations created whenever any of them moved.

“Ah, ponyfeathers!” swore Apple Bloom, accompanied by similar sounds of distress from the other ponies. “This is your fault, Sweetie, ya just had to jinx us didn’t you?” She stared at the sap-drenched fur on her back, one side, and one leg. “If’n I’d knowed it could do that I woulda paid more attention!” She changed back to a person. And yelled, “HORSEFEATHERS!” She changed back, but it was too late. Her robes had already soaked up a good portion of the sap.

“Maybe the scourgify charm?” suggested Hermione, willing to let Apple Bloom be the experimental guinea pig.

Apple Bloom sighed. “Why not?” She held out her sap-soaked left-rear leg. “Try a small bit, first.”

Hermione carefully aimed her horn and whispered, “scourgify.”

“Celestia!” shouted Apple Bloom, leaping away.

“It didn’t hurt, did it?” asked Hermione, terrified she had hurt her friend.

“No,” Bloom said slowly, sitting and examining her leg carefully. “But it felt really, really weird.”

With Harry’s and Hermione’s help, it took only a few minutes to clean her up.

“Well,” the yellow pony said, “Stings a bit, but that beats scrubbing in a washtub for an hour.” She nodded her head. “Yep, definitely the better method.”

She transformed back into a person and examined her robes. A couple of scourgifies later, they were clean as well.

Following her example, it took only a short while for the others to de-sap each other.

Parvati suddenly gasped and said in awe, “I think we have company.”

Naturally, everyone turned to look at her, then looked where she was looking. There, at the Forbidden Forest’s edge, were several unicorns. They appeared to be staring at Harry, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle.

Hermione didn’t even wait a second. “Come on!” she said urgently, and started towards them at a trot.

Harry sighed and looked at Sweetie Belle.

“It would be polite to at least say hello to this world’s unicorns,” she said.

Most of the rest of the Gryffindors were already headed in that direction.

Harry and the fillies quickly caught up with Hermione. They slowed to a stop ten feet from the much larger forest unicorns. Five unicorns had moved to just outside the forest and onto the lawn, and were eyeing the students and ponies cautiously. A couple pawed at the ground and looked around warily at the lawn and castle. There was an air of uncertainty about them. They clearly didn’t like being this close to the castle.

“Wow! They’re big!” Apple Bloom said in an astonished tone.

“Uh,” said Harry hesitantly, “Do you think they’ll understand us? I haven’t read anything that said they can speak.”

Sweetie Belle said, “Don’t know ’til we try, right?” She took several steps closer, stood straight, and then bowed by extending her right foreleg while bending her other leg until her chin was just below her bent knee. Miss Cheerilee had taught them all how to bow when Twilight got her wings.

“Good morning,” she said formally. Then she stood up again. The other three quickly copied her.

To everyone’s amazement, the five unicorns turned to face them directly and copied the bow, whinnying softly. Unfortunately, they didn’t say anything that the others could recognize.

“Wow!” said one of their audience.

Harry looked back and saw that there must be over forty students of all ages watching, and at least two were Prefects.

Harry was unsure of what to do next as he stared up at the unicorns that were easily triple or more his height. He was sure that they could have looked Princess Celestia straight in the eyes.

While they were like Princess Celestia in that they were a gleaming white, they didn’t have that invisible glow of warmth that Celestia had. Their manes, tails, and horns were also white. Dirt, it seemed, did not stick to them. Unlike the princess, though, Harry didn’t find them nearly as terrifying. He wanted to go closer, but was unsure if he should wait for them to come to him.

Before he could say anything, one of the five unicorns walked over to them and nuzzled each of them against the neck in turn. She then walked back to the others whinnying softly. They responded in kind.

“I don’t think they can talk like we do,” Harry said disappointedly. “While they bowed back at us when we bowed to them, they haven’t said anything I can understand.” He looked at the other ponies with raised eyebrows, and got shakes of their heads as a response.

Suddenly, all five unicorns shifted and stared at something behind the students. Their attitude changed from one of curiosity and caution to hostility and a bit of fear, with the stallions blowing through their noses and the mares taking a step back and half-turning to flee.

Harry spun around and looked. Behind him, of course, was the castle lawn, and beyond that, the castle. The lawn was bare of anything except for random students, all looking their way. He frowned, scanning the castle walls to see what had attracted the unicorns’ interest. It took only a moment, but a faint movement in a window drew his attention. It was the purple turban that helped Harry recognize Professor Quirrell staring at them through one of the larger second floor windows.

Someone sighed in disappointment and Harry turned back to the unicorns. They were gone. Harry frowned. Had there been something at the castle that had triggered their flight? Or had seeing the professor spooked them for some reason?

“Aw,” Sweetie Belle said, “They just ran away.” She turned and looked at the large gathering of students. “Did any of you say or do something rude?”

The four ponies quickly determined that no one had said or done anything that they thought might spook the bigger unicorns, they had just wheeled about and run into the forest.

The group walked along the forest edge for a while, hoping to see the unicorns again, to no avail. Then they moved to the Quidditch pitch and watched the Ravenclaws getting trounced by the pegasi. Well, at least the others did. Hermione pulled Ghostly Spells out of her rucksack. She was almost through with it and ready to try a few of the charms she had read in the books. She should easily be finished by lunch-time. She carefully laid the book on the bench beside her, and went book-walking until lunch time.

Unlike the Gryffindor Quidditch team, whose seeker and one of their chasers had graduated last spring, the other three teams were at full strength. Hearing about the drubbing the Hufflepuffs had received, the Slytherin team was closely watching the game. The Hufflepuffs were torn between rooting for the viciously competitive, but cute and adorable, ponies, or hoping that the Ravenclaw team might redeem their pride as wizards. Not surprisingly, most of the witches were rooting for the pegasi.

The fact that none of the Gryffindor team made an appearance at the stadium to watch the game was exceedingly suspicious to the other House members. As the morning progressed, the rumour began to circulate that three of the missing Gryffindors were the pegasi. First among the Slytherins, then the remainder of the watchers.

But the problem was, which of the Gryffindor team members was it? The twins were suspected of being holed up and working on a gender-changing potion, leaving only Wood and the two girl chasers, with Ginny and Scootaloo as the obvious outsiders. On the other hand, it would be just like the twins to want everyone to think they were working on something else while playing Quidditch. But in that case, shouldn’t there have seven players and not five? And in that case, why weren’t any of the non-pegasi Gryffindor team watching the game?

The Gryffindors in the stands were immensely amused at the confusion in the other Houses.

۸- ̬ -۸

Castor stood as the Prime Minister, Deputy Prime Minister, the Home Secretary, Foreign Secretary, and the heads of both MI5 and MI6 walked into the conference room. Once they were seated, he handed out the report folders.

“First, the volunteers living in Equestria show no signs of any deviations from normal. And they are acclimating nicely. The Equestrians have no complaints about them, and in fact are thrilled at how excited some of the volunteers are at being there. We may have difficulty getting some of them to come back.” He flashed a quick smile.

“Second, the trials with the amputees are progressing well. All ten volunteers have had their lost fingers, hands, or feet regrown. The doctors, both in the study and not, say that they can’t tell what was original and what was regrown. One doctor not told of the study accused us of switching the records with healthy patients as a prank.” He smiled ruefully. “We will no longer be referring patients to him as a check.

“Some of the doctors have expressed reservations on how long the regrown sections will last, that at some time in the future the body might reject the new growths. We will be keeping close track on all patients for the next year. The doctors agree that if the patients last that long without any complications or signs of rejection, then the new growths will probably be permanent.

“It took between twelve and thirty-four hours for the patients to regenerate the lost tissue. Naturally, those with the most to replace took the longest. We don’t have a large enough sample, yet, to predict regrowth time periods.

“There is not an insignificant amount of pain in the regrowth, usually referred to as a dull, constant ache, or a pins-and-needles sensation — about what a teenager goes through during a major growth spurt, only condensed into hours instead of weeks. Sleeping is difficult and the patients get quite testy. We haven’t used pain-killers, yet. We’re not sure if they will interfere in the process. Those are on the schedule for next month with level one amputees.

“The patients also complained of being constantly hungry, which the Equestrians have assured us is normal. The body is, after all adding a significant amount of bone and soft tissue.

“Several of the mildly overweight patients noted a loss of weight while not eating as much as the thinner patients. If there is sufficient fat available, the alien technology uses the body’s resources first, apparently.” He paused. “Interestingly, more weight was lost than could be accounted for with the body-portion regrown.”

“The next stage, level two, will be with larger amputations, lower arms and legs. Level three will be whole limb replacement. Level four will be multiple limb replacements.”

Castor turned to the next page of his notes.

“The scientists studying the portal are . . . stumped. As one put it, ‘I feel like I’m in Freshman Physics. I hear the words, but they don’t make any sense. I see the readings, and they don’t make sense. Everything I know is wrong, and I don’t know where to start to fix that. It’s magic! I don’t know how it works! You tell me!’” Castor sighed. “And that pretty much sums it up for them.”

He looked up at the ministers. “Handicapping us, of course, is that we can only make passive measurements to study the portal. Anything active might damage or change something.

“The theoretical physicists are going through the ceiling. One of them said that just knowing this portal exists is jumping us hundreds of years ahead as we now know which areas of research to ignore.” He shook his head. “Another claims that with these new insights, we should have a working star-drive sometime in the next twenty years.”

He turned to the next page. “The Equestrians have chosen Bradshaw Gass & Hope as their lead architects on their chancery compound and delivered a completed set of drawings for them to vet and critique. The people at Bradshaw are puzzled at the Equestrians’ insistence that the roof be treated like a ground floor, with clearly marked aerial accesses. And that the roof be designed as a patio surrounded by both closed and open-air meeting rooms. The placement of the HVAC equipment and machinery in a short attic space below the flat roof is equally confusing to them. They also questioned the extraordinarily high ceilings on each floor — we know those are for the Equestrians’ pegasi members, but they don’t. And what they said about the restroom facilities . . . .” He shook his head. “One wanted to know if this was a government building or a zoo.” He looked up at Director General Walker. “We may have a few security problems there.” The man nodded and made a note.

“The Equestrians have decided to build the compound themselves, and estimate that it will take them a month to build it once the architects okay the plans and they receive proper approvals. Their architects are equally puzzled over our insistence on electrical designs and sprinkler systems. And the absence of control gems.” He shook his head again. “They have agreed to let us place observers onsite during the construction. We will need to vet the building inspectors very carefully.” The Director of MI5 nodded and made additional notes.

He flipped to the next page.

“The Equestrians have completed a two-and-a-half-meter wall around their entire compound, with gates at the three entrances and farm.” He looked up at the others and gave a wan smile. “They built a three-kilometer three-meter wall overnight, including the foundations.” He shook his head.

“She also told me that they put a weak don’t-notice-it tech-field on the wall. She told me that meant that people would ignore the wall unless they were looking right at it. Anyone moving towards the wall would find something nearby to distract them from it. As soon as they looked away, they would ‘forget’ about it. They know it’s there, they just think that information is not important enough to remember. Basically, it kills their curiosity to investigate.” He looked at both intelligence officers. “They have offered to teach a runes-class on that specific spell, if we’re interested.” They straightened and shared a half-smile. “I told them we were very interested in such a class, and scheduled it for next week.” The two men made notes. “No more than a dozen at a time, Princess Twilight requested.”

He sighed.

“Harry Potter, a ten-year-old orphan is at the root of all this.” He shook his head, then grinned wryly. “This is all his fault! Princess Sparkle admitted he’s the one who ‘fell’ through the portal last year. Reading his case, I understand why he was reluctant to admit to them he knew where the portal is. The princess has requested that we keep his identity secret, especially because he is an underage child. And because of the reason for his fleeing his relatives, who have been arrested and charged.

“The child-abuse case against the Dursleys, the boy’s caretakers, has suddenly started moving forward. I don’t know why it was stalled for the last month. I expect the case to go to court in the next sixty days. I am confident we will secure a conviction of at least five years.

“Once the case is settled, I will forward a request from Princess Twilight Sparkle that the boy be remanded to her care, if he so desires, and she has asked if full adoption is possible under our laws. He has been granted citizenship in Equestria by both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, the rulers. I believe granting her request is the best course of action.”

“More details on all of this is in the folders.

“Any questions?”

۸- ̬ -۸

Professor McGonagall was just coming around the last curve of the Great Lake on her way back to the castle after her Saturday mid-afternoon constitutional when she saw a grey-coated pony with Weasley-red mane and tail galloping towards her. As it came closer, she realized it was galloping quite hard. She started walking faster to meet it.

The pony skidded to halt in front of her, face bright-red from exertion, gasping, “Professor McGonagall!” Gasp. “Firsties!” Gasp. “Myrtle!” Gasp.

It took her a moment to realize from the voice that it was Percy Weasley, her Gryffindor Prefect, in his animagus form, just as Dumbledore had told them. That he had finally publically revealed his animagus ability meant this must be serious. Concerned, she frowned. “Mr. Weasley! Take a moment to compose yourself! You are not making any sense!”

He nodded and stood, legs spread and head down, trying to bring his breathing under control. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked up at her. “The Firsties have resurrected Moaning Myrtle. They’re all in the Hospital Wing.”

“WHAT!?” Her eyes shot wide open, “Oh Merlin!” She transformed into her feline form and took off running far faster than she could have managed on just two legs.

Percy groaned, took another deep breath, and started galloping after her.

۸- ̰ -۸

54 — Don’t Tease Myrtle!

Professor McGonagall skidded to halt as she approached the Hospital Wing. The cat animagus could see a crowd of students already gathered at the Hospital Wing’s doorway — three and four deep. She ducked into an alcove and transformed back to a witch. She took a moment to bring her breathing under control — even as a cat, running that distance was not an easy effort.

She straightened her back and smoothed her hair before storming down the corridor and through the doorway, scattering students like a wind scatters leaves. The smarter ones, not that many, headed back to their dorms, not wanting to attract attention and possibly lose points. The ones who couldn’t control their curiosity crowded close to the open doors, listening and watching.

The knot of short Gryffindor students gathered at the foot of one curtained-off bed made her targets easy to spot. Madam Pomfrey was standing at the foot of a nearby bed with a single student on it, reading the results of a diagnostic charm. Harry spotted her, and nudged one of the girls.

As the Transfiguration professor came up, she heard the Healer saying, “You’re fine. You need to brush your teeth more often and eat a few more vegetables, I’ll notify the house-elves to steer more vegetables to your end of the table. Otherwise you’re fine.” She sounded a bit miffed at delivering such good news. Laying on the bed was Ron Weasley, who wasn’t sure if he should be glad or not at that news.

She looked up with a frustrated expression to Minerva. “They’re all in perfect health! A few pounds underweight, magically low, but otherwise, fine.”

The Deputy Headmistress studied her First Year Gryffindors. They were all grouped around a girl sitting on the other bed, who was laughing and grinning wide enough to almost split her face. She was holding up hand, making a fist, and just staring at it, at the moment.

The girl was wearing a hospital gown and had brown hair and eyes. She appeared to be about fourteen, based on the numerous pimples that decorated her face. She squinted whenever she looked up at one of the surrounding students.

“What happened?” the professor asked the hospital Matron.

The Healer put her hands on her hips and glared at the students on the other side of Myrtle’s bed. “Apparently,” she said frostily, “a Princess Twilight Sparkle sent them a book about ghosts. It had a spell for materializing ghosts. They decided they wanted to see if they could get it to work.”

The other students finally had noticed Professor McGonagall had arrived and were sporting various expressions of guilt, contrition, and worry. She was not surprised to see that the three Atlanteans and Hermione Granger had moved to the back of the cohort and were trying to look innocent, with varying degrees of success. Harry was slightly in front of his three friends and had an expression of resignation.

Madam Pomfrey frowned at Myrtle and said, “It worked brilliantly. My scans show her to be an average fourteen-year-old witch, indistinguishable from any other Fourth Year student physically — although her magic reserves are severely depleted. Understandable considering what happened. Her only flaw is that she has a severe case of acne. However, I have potion which will clear that right up, but she’ll have to wait until her monthly is over before she can take it.” She sighed, and looked over at the professor. “I’m surprised you got here before either Albus or Filius.”

She had no sooner said their names than the two came striding through the Hospital Wing doorway. Professor Flitwick stopped just inside and started shooing away the students gathered there. The threat of points being taken had most of the mob rapidly heading to safer pastures.

Just before he closed the doors, however, a winded and gasping Percy, no longer in his pony form, managed to squeeze inside. The two followed far behind the older wizard already approaching Madam Pomfrey.

“Ah,” said the Headmaster as he came close. He gave a twinkling-eyed look at his two subordinates and then turned to the subject of the hour. “How are you feeling this fine Saturday afternoon, Miss Warren?” He studied her carefully.

Still smiling broadly, the witch hopped off the bed and spun on her toes, arms stretched high over her head. “I’ve never felt better,” she proclaimed joyously.

Professor McGonagall was pleased to note that all the boys were hurriedly inspecting either the floor at their feet or the ceiling above as the witch’s hospital gown fluffed out and inadvertently exposed more of the young witch than a young wizard should properly see.

“Myrtle!” came Hermione’s indignant voice. “There are boys watching!”

The newly resurrected student glanced over and said, “They can look all they want — I feel far too good to care!” Several of the boys looked up, surprised at that statement, then hurriedly returned to examining the floor when they realized their Head of House was watching them. Myrtle might not care, but the gimlet eye that their Head of House was giving them said that she did! And looking would result in swift retribution.

From the corners of his eyes — it was odd how much less he had in the way of peripheral vision as a human — Harry noticed that the fillies were also grinning. And giving him sly looks to see if he had had the nerve to peek at the young witch. They seemed oddly disappointed that he was still resolutely examining his shoes.

Ha! He wasn’t stupid. He knew the adults would respond quickly if they caught him peeking at naked girls, even with their permission. Aunt Petunia had made her opinions on that subject known when he had inquired, as a small child, about why girls wore dresses and boys didn’t. She had taken it to mean something he hadn’t understood at the time, although he had understood the frying pan that had knocked him across the kitchen in the middle of her tirade, to Dudley’s loud braying guffaws.

After living in Equestria where things were a bit more . . . direct, he thought he knew what his Aunt had thought he meant at that time. But he wasn’t in Equestria at the moment. So home rules were expected. He kept a close eye on the adults’ wands and where they were pointed.

Myrtle shook herself happily, “And in a few days I’ll be back to normal . . . .” She glared at Hermione, “You have no idea what it’s like to be stuck at that time of the month for forty-eight years, two months, and twenty-five days!”

Most of the boys look mystified at that comment, but the girls all looked horrified. They might not yet be of age for that sort of thing to be an issue, but they had all heard their mothers and older sisters complain of the experience. And it explained perfectly why Myrtle the ghost had been always so melancholy, quick to take offense, and flee at the slightest excuse. And the crying. The incessant crying. Yeah, that explained a lot.

The adults were a bit more sanguine about it, and amused.

And Harry remembered how Aunt Petunia was always a bit more likely to lose her temper with him once a month.

“Would you care to elucidate what happened?” Dumbledore smiled kindly at Harry, no doubt taking in the reactions of the rest of the First Years in trying to avoid his gaze.

“Well,” Harry said, “After Scootaloo accidentally informed Professor Binns that he was dead, we wrote to Twilight and asked if she had any books on ghosts.” Harry blinked, thinking. “There aren’t any ghosts at home,” he said. “But I know they have books about Nightmare Night,” he paused, uncertainly, “that’s their version of Halloween, you see, so we thought she might.”

He shifted nervously, “She did. We got them,” he stopped and looked at his friends. “Wednesday morning? Yeah, Wednesday morning, and we’ve been reading them since then.” He sighed and looked out the windows. “After lunch, Hermione suggested we try out some of the spells.”

Hermione gave him a betrayed look.

۸-ꞈ-۸

“It’ll be fun! New spells that no one else knows about! We aren’t doing anything against the rules. What could go wrong?” Hermione pleaded.

They exchanged looks. It sounded okay. And it wasn’t like they had anything else planned for the afternoon.

The three fillies looked at each other and grinned. “Cutie Mark Crusader Spiritualists,” they yelled, slapping their hands at each other in a failed high-five. Harry reluctantly added his hand to the group.

The few students left in the Great Hall gave them questioning looks, as did several of the students in their group.

“But who can we get to try them on?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“We could ask Nearly Headless Nick,” suggested Ron, looking around to see if he was visible. He wasn’t.

“Oh! That’s a good idea!” said Hermione enthusiastically. “There’s a spell for summoning a ghost if you know his or her name. Come on!” She shoved her Spells for Ghosts — If They Were Real back into her rucksack, swung her legs over the bench and stood.

The rest of the cohort followed her out into the Entry Hall and up the staircase. After a few minutes walking, she went into an empty classroom. “This one isn’t in use,” she said them as they followed her. “This way we won’t make a mess that will upset a professor.”

“So, the first spell is . . . ,” she said, after taking Spells for Ghosts — If They Were Real, out of her rucksack, which she had set on the desk at the head of the room.

“Here it is.” She set the book down with one finger to hold it open and studied it carefully. She sighed and looked at her wand. “Okay, I’m not sure how to cast this with a wand, but here goes.” She held her wand in front of her and her brow creased as she carefully intoned, “I summon the one known to me as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington!”

Nothing happened, except the tip of her wand glowed slightly. She stood still, unmoving, maintaining her stance, her face set in concentration.

Suddenly, Scootaloo yelped as something frigidly cold swept through her. Everyone jumped, but then a white form took shape in front of Hermione. It was Nick, looking quite confused.

“It worked! It worked!” Hermione said, hopping up and down excitedly.

“I say,” said Nick, looking around in surprise, “What is this?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, still excited, but no longer hopping like a demented pre-teen. “We have this new book!” She pointed at it. “From their homeland,” she pointed at the Atlanteans. “And it has all sorts of spells about ghosts and we wanted to try them to see if they really worked, but we didn’t know where to find a ghost, but the book has a summoning spell, so I used it, and here you are. Would you mind helping us with the other spells, please?” She clasped both hands together and tried to imitate the begging looks she had seen the three Atlanteans use so effectively the previous month at the Weasleys. “Pretty please?”

Nick floated back and looked across the group of students, all of whom had similar pleading expressions. A smile touched his lips. “It has been a long time since anyone has asked me for a favour,” he said. “I believe I can be of service. What is it you wish to attempt?”

There followed almost an entire hour of different spells being cast by everyone in the group. Harry, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle even tried them as unicorns to see if there was a difference. There was. As before, spells just seemed easier coming out of their horns.

“Sir Nicholas,” Hermione said matter-of-factly, “you told us that you died when a headsman chopped your head off, but he didn’t quite do the job properly.”

“That is true, my dear,” Sir Nick said sadly, flopping his over dramatically.

“So,” she hesitated, “did you die immediately?”

He pushed his head back upright and stopped still, as still as only a ghost can be, and stared at her.

Just as she began to fidget, he sighed. “No, my dear, I did not.”

The entire room gasped.

He stared at her, then at the rest of the room.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, there’s this one spell in here,” Hermione gestured at the book on the desk, “that says it can materialize a ghost.”

Sir Nick perked up at that statement.

“But it has a qualification. It materializes them as they were just moments before they died.”

Sir Nick narrowed his eyes and stared at her.

“So,” she swallowed, intimidated by the look she was getting — she didn’t have the experience with that that the CMC did — and continued, “If you died immediately, then the spell would materialize you to just before the axe hit you. But if you died a minute or so later, then it would materialize you to just after the headsman had cut your head mostly off.” She glanced out the window and turned a bit green. “Which would be very messy, and you would die because we don’t know any spells to help you.”

He stared at her a few moments longer, then slowly nodded. “I see. Yes, that would be very bad. Very bad, indeed. I don’t think I would like that very much.”

The ghost sighed. He clearly didn’t want to talk about the subject, but there would be consequences if he did not.

He settled a bit lower to the ground, almost as if he were sitting. “Death seldom comes instantly,” he said sadly. “Your brain needs blood and air to live, but dying rarely instantly stops that from happening. A sword to the heart still leaves the heart beating for several moments, and it takes a while for the brain to use up the store of air in the blood it already has. Poison can take several minutes to completely kill you. Drowning takes several minutes.” He stopped and looked at their stricken faces.

“I have heard,” he said carefully, “from muggle-born students that the muggles have revived people who officially had no heart-beats and had taken no breaths for several minutes. People who, by all rights, would have been declared dead when I was alive.”

The muggle-born all nodded as their friends looked at them uncertainly.

“So, when the headsman did his duty, I did not die immediately. I fear, as you suggested, that if you were to attempt that spell on me, none of us would be pleased with the result.”

They stood quietly, thinking. Several of them looked slightly nauseous.

“So,” Hermione said, “this spell is useless.”

“No, my dear,” Sir Nick said. “Not useless, just very limited. A drowning victim, a poisoning victim, someone who didn’t die from extreme physical violence, all those could benefit.” He smiled sadly at her. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for thinking of me, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t help me.” He started to fade from sight, drifting towards the ceiling.

He stopped.

“You might ask Myrtle Elizabeth Warren, in the second-floor girls’ toilets. Her death was rather dramatic. And instant.”

He faded out completely as he went into the ceiling.

After a few minutes to discuss the matter, the Gryffindor First Year cohort decamped to the second-floor girl’s toilets. The girls had all heard of Moaning Myrtle, with the dire warnings to leave her alone! They spent part of the trip explaining what they knew to the boys.

While the subject matter had been depressing, the thought that maybe they really could bring someone back to life was exciting. And got more-so the closer they got to Myrtle’s haunts.

Fortunately, she was “home.” Not that that home was inviting. It was the gloomiest, most depressing set of toilets Harry had ever seen. On one wall was a large, cracked, spotted mirror, above a row of chipped sinks. The room was barely lit by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders. The floor was damp, and the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched. One of them was dangling off its hinges.

“What are all of you doing in my toilets?” she demanded, hands on transparent hips. “And you boys,” she added pointing. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

Hermione took a breath and stepped forward. “Myrtle, how did you die? That’s why we’re here. We want to know everything you remember!”

A few minutes later, after an overly theatrical and dramatic recreation of her death, Myrtle was in a much better mood.

“So,” Hermione said, “You died instantly? No difficulty breathing, no bleeding? Just, one second you’re glaring at these eyes glaring back at you and the next, you’re dead?”

The ghost nodded eagerly. “Yes, just like that.” She grinned, “And then I made Olive Hornby regret ever picking on me! Her and her friends both! I made them all miserable, just like they did me.” She grinned evilly at them. “There’s nothing like floating through someone at three in the morning and listening to them scream in surprise at the sudden waking.” She laughed a laugh that would do a cartoon villain proud. “And after doing that several nights in a row, they spend the next few nights in sleepless dread waiting for the next time. Only, I didn’t do it! Oh, yes, they regretted teasing me.”

The entire cohort decided not to get on Moaning Myrtle’s bad side. Especially if she stayed a ghost.

Hermione carefully explained what they wanted to do. And what Sir Nick had said.

Myrtle stared at her. “You mean I could be a real person again?”

“We think so. All the spells in the book,” she hefted it in her hand, “have worked perfectly.” She gave a little hop of joy.

Myrtle stared at her intently. And then looked at the rest of them. They could see she was thinking it over.

“But why would I want to do that?” she said. “My life here at Hogwarts was horrible! For four years I had no friends, and everyone looked down on me for being a muggle-born.” She sighed. “The only real fun I had was tormenting Olive Hornby and her friends after I died.” She grinned. “That was the most fun I’d ever had. I made her fail potions by invisibly sticking my finger in her cauldron when her OWLS came around.”

“We’ll be your friends,” said Scootaloo. “We know what it’s like to be teased.” The other two fillies and Harry nodded. “We won’t let you down.”

She stared at them a moment. “I’m a Ravenclaw, and you’re Gryffindors. I’m in Fourth Year and you’re all ickle Firsties.”

They shrugged their shoulders. “So?”

She studied them a bit longer. “My family was told I was dead.”

“So, we’ll be your family,” Apple Bloom said. “You can come stay with us during holidays.”

They all nodded.

“You’re siblings?” She giggled.

“No,” Harry said. Then the four proceeded to introduce themselves. “And I know that Princess Sparkle would never say no to you staying in the castle,” Harry put in. “Especially if you can’t return to your family.”

“And we know you’ll like our home a lot, you can do all the magic you want and no will complain!” said Sweetie Belle. The rest of the cohort looked at them enviously. And made a promise to themselves to get invited over during the hols.

“You’re Harry Potter,” she said slowly. “The famous Harry Potter.”

He scowled. “Yes, that’s me. But I didn’t do anything, my parents did.”

“And I can live with you?” she asked cautiously.

“Whichever one of us you want to live with, we’d be happy to take you in.”

“And we got plenty of bits, so you’ll not have to worry about buying things you need,” Scootaloo said.

“I promise, you won’t regret it!” added Sweetie Belle.

Myrtle suddenly frowned and started to look angry. “This is all a joke, isn’t it? Let’s prank Myrtle! She’ll fall for this! She’s always good for a laugh!” She spun in place, as if to run off.

“No! It’s true! I swear! I Pinkie Promise it’s true!” said Sweetie Belle.

Myrtle stopped and looked her. “Pinkie Promise?” she said sceptically, “You’re having me on!” She was getting angrier.

“Cross my heart,” Sweetie Belle said quickly, making a cross sign over her heart, “and hope to fly,” she mimicked flying by flapping her wrists, “stick a cupcake in my eye,” she pretended to smash something in her eye. “We think we can use this spell to materialize you!”

Harry, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom all nodded their heads quickly while the rest of the cohort stared at Sweetie Belle as if she were barking barmy.

“What?” Myrtle said, flummoxed now, and no longer angry.

“Oh,” Scootaloo said, “nobody would dare break a Pinkie Promise!”

Harry gulped, “Yeah, you do that . . . .”

There was a growl from the other end of the room. Turning, they saw Pinkie Pie’s head coming out of one of the furthest sinks. “Losing a friend's trust is the fastest way to lose a friend . . . FOREVER!” she yelled the last word, glaring at them as she slowly sank back out of sight into the sink. The room seemed to shimmer for a moment.

The fillies and Harry shuddered. “Yeah,” Apple Bloom said, “That!”

Myrtle stared at the empty sink. She floated over to it and looked down into it. She drifted back to them, still staring at the sink. She turned to face Sweetie Belle.

She slowly nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.” She gave a sad laugh. “It’s not like I really like my life right now, now is it?”

Following the directions in the books, and first scourgifying the floor thoroughly, the cohort quickly drew a ritual circle, using salt Harry and the fillies took from their potions’ kits — which required a quick run to their dorm. Then Harry, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle transformed into unicorns, startling the ghost.

“Oh,” she said, “You’re so cute and adorable!”

“I think I should be the one to give the drop of blood,” Sweetie Belle said to Hermione. Harry understood why she was volunteering, she was the only true unicorn in the castle! And while the spell would probably work just fine using only a witch's blood, why take an unnecessary chance?

The three of them argued until they decided on a compromise. Both girls would donate a bit of blood — Harry didn’t because, as Hermione put it, “You’re a boy, and who knows what adding a boy’s blood to the mix will do?”

They all book-walked the spell, to Myrtle’s intense jealousy at seeing the spell in action. And to make sure they all understood exactly what was expected to happen, and when.

“I want to be a person again just so I can use that spell,” she declared before they started.

Hermione read the book out to them to make sure they were following the directions exactly while the other two did the actual casting — they had pulled rank. “We’ve been using unicorn magic a lot longer than you have,” was the argument they used.

With the circle drawn, the unicorns took their places as the rest of the cohort watched from the edges of the room. They had their wands out, slightly glowing with magic, ready to cast protective shields should they need to do so. Or to assist if more magic was needed.

Which it had been. Not much, just that when the three unicorns started to show a strain, the others had added a bit of their own.

۸- ̫ -۸

When Harry had finished with his explanation, with some additional comments by others, The Headmaster turned and studied his new student sympathetically.

“Excuse me, Miss Warren, may I cast a few spells?” he asked the witch.

“Certainly, Headmaster,” came the cheerful reply.

The students watched in silence as the old wizard cast one spell after another for several minutes, only pausing long enough to study the results of each. Hermione looked awed at the spells being cast with such precision and rapidity. Her fingers were twitching as if she wanted to note down everything she saw.

Harry tried to use what Twilight had taught him, but the spells were too complex, or cast too quickly for him to grasp more than the barest of outlines.

Finally, Dumbledore stopped and considered the young witch, eyes twinkling. “First of all, Miss Warren, let me be among the first to congratulate you on your return to the land of the living.” He bowed.

Laughing, she curtseyed, and, in pulling against her gown as she did so, brought blushes and nervous glances elsewhere from the boys behind her. “Thank you, Professor. I can honestly say I couldn’t be happier myself.”

Continuing, the Headmaster said, “Professor Flitwick, as Head of Ravenclaw House,” he indicated the short professor, who bowed slightly, “will take care of introducing you to the rest of your House, and making arrangements to allow you to complete your education. I’ll ask the house-elves to see if they can retrieve your belongings from storage. I believe we saved everything.” He smiled gently. “I’ll also contact the Ministry to see if I can get your wand returned. If not, then Professor Flitwick will accompany you in replacing your belongings and wand. And again, welcome back. I look forward to seeing you pass your OWLS and NEWTs, at last.” He nodded at her, still smiling, then turned his attention to the Gryffindor students.

“Might I see this wondrous book?” he asked, eyes twinkling and a smile on his lips, his eyebrows raised hopefully.

The Equestrians and Hermione exchanged looks, then Hermione said, “Of course, Headmaster. But it does belong to Princess Sparkle. She only loaned us the books from the Ponyville library.” She knelt down and reached into her rucksack. A moment later, she stood and held a book out to him. Its title was, Spells for Ghosts — If They Were Real.

“Books?” he repeated back as he took the one he was offered.

“Oh, yes, sir, she sent us three books, the other two are,” she said and again knelt down to rummage in her rucksack. “The other two are Ghosts, Fact or Fiction? and Ghostly Spells,” she explained holding them up for him to see. “This one,” she explained, lifting up Ghostly Spells slightly higher, “is mostly illusion spells and spells that make things scary — you know, say things in a scary voice, make things give off spooky lights and sounds, like for Halloween parties.” She frowned. “Although it appears they call it Nightmare Night. A few are supposed to detect ghosts if they are hiding.” She glanced at the other Gryffindors. “Nick was kind enough to let us try some of them on him and they all seemed to work just fine, except the ones that we didn’t want to try. They were rather insulting, honestly.”

Dumbledore looked up from reading the introductory text in the book he held and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

“Oh,” she said, “Some of the spells were to see if he was malevolent or had died while under a geas or curse. And, of course, we didn’t want to use any of the spells that might bind or exorcize him.”

Dumbledore nodded in understanding.

“And Ghosts, Fact or Fiction? is just a bunch of stories and legends about ghosts, with only a few spells to detect or exorcise them. And the spells were mostly the same as the ones in Ghostly Spells — which is an older book — or were very similar in intent,” she concluded.

“Might I borrow this?” the Headmaster asked, lifting slightly the book he was holding.

Hermione looked over at Harry uncertainly, her question to him obvious.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t think Twilight would mind, but it would be better to ask first,” he said hesitantly.

She nodded. “I think I had better ask her first, Headmaster,” she said respectfully and apologetically, half-fearing he might be offended and get upset with her.

He nodded. “I’ll give this back to you after dinner, then,” he said, “and we can owl her about me keeping it for a longer time to read.”

Relieved that the Headmaster hadn’t been offended at her request, Hermione nodded eagerly.

Harry frowned. The Headmaster had made it appear as if he were honouring her wish to ask Twilight, but at the same time he was borrowing the book for the rest of the afternoon! He should have returned it to her immediately. He barely restrained himself from saying anything. Wizards. You just couldn’t trust them! He’d bet his entire share of their bank account that the Headmaster would make a copy of their book before they got it back.

“Now, then,” the old wizard continued, “What spell was it that you used?”

“It’s on page ninety-seven, sir. After seven pages of explanations.”

He flipped to the back of the slim volume. “Ah, yes,” he said, “I see.” He flipped back to the chapter’s beginning and started reading. “Hm,” he said, softly. “I see.” He looked up at the students watching him intently. “Well, then, carry on.” He turned and headed for the doors still reading the book. He stopped after a few steps.

“Oh, Professor Filius?”

“Yes, Albus?”

“After you get Miss Warren settled in, please come see me.”

“Of course.”

۸- ̫ -۸

55 — The Calm Before the Storm

Albus was sitting at his desk, reviewing the book loaned to him by Hermione, when his fire suddenly turned green and a melancholic voice came forth as a familiar face appeared in the flames.

“Are you there, Headmaster Dumbledore. May I come through?”

“Most certainly, Broderick,” the Headmaster replied, recognizing the distinctive voice and gloomy appearance of the Unspeakable.

“Thank you,” the other said morosely, before withdrawing and then stepping into the Headmaster’s Office.

Broderick Bode worked in the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries. He was a tall, thin, sallow-skinned wizard with an exceedingly mournful face, and dreadfully serious about his business. Not that anyone knew what his business was. Unspeakables never spoke about what they did.

Dumbledore did have his suspicions, though, that it was mostly in the area of dying, death, and the undead. His presence today helped to confirm a bit of that — if they hadn’t just handed the assignment to the nearest Unspeakable in the office. Which was always a possibility with them.

His cheerless expression remained unchanged as he walked over to Dumbledore’s desk and held out a long thin box. “Madam Bones requested I give this to you,” he said in a gloomy tone.

“Ah, thank you for your promptness,” the Headmaster said, “Miss Warren will be delighted that her wand wasn’t mislaid after all this time.”

As he had expected, Amelia, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in addition to retrieving the girl’s wand from Auror evidence storage, had informed the Unspeakables. And they had decided that one of their people should deliver the wand instead of a lowly Auror, as the D.M.L.E. would normally send to return a wand from their storage lockup. After all, it wasn’t every day that a dead person asked for their wand. Usually, it was just the family of the victim asking for a memento.

“Yes,” said Broderick quietly, “about that.” He stared at Dumbledore, his expression becoming even more melancholy, if that was possible.

“I’ve been examining the ritual the children used,” the Headmaster said, not bothering with the usual chit-chat he gave most of his visitors. The Unspeakables had no patience for that sort of thing, especially Bode. He handed the other wizard the book, open to the chapter in question.

“It’s rather unusual in that it implies that it requires that a unicorn cast the spells. In fact, the preface in the book states that the author expects all unicorns attempting these spells to abide by the principles of Harmony.” He raised an eyebrow at the other wizard.

The tall wizard tilted his head questioningly.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, “And the ritual itself requires nothing onerous beyond a few drops of unicorn blood, which must be freely given during the ritual.”

He sighed. “There is no taint of evil anywhere in the ritual. Nor in the subject afterwards, as my spell scans showed.” He proceeded to name the spells, getting a nod of recognition from the Unspeakable at each. “It appears, in giving Myrtle a body, that the ritual actually re-ensouled her.” He looked levelly at the wizard. “The only requirement seems to be that a ghost be available. No ghost, no resurrection.”

The Unspeakable arched his eyebrows. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

The Headmaster just stared back at him. “And yet, it appears to be so. It seems our current theories on the soul, what a ghost is, and their possible connections, are in need of revision.”

Broderick nodded at him, then sighed softly, “But unicorns? They neither speak nor read. And how would they hold a wand?” He paused a moment, “And casting a spell such as this shouldn’t be possible for them. It is necromancy, after all. The exact antithesis of all that they stand for.”

“I’m not sure if you know this,” the Headmaster explained, eyes twinkling in amusement. “But we have three foreign students who are very powerful magically, one of whom is a unicorn animagus.” He stopped and gave the Broderick a level look. “The other two’s animagi are a pegasus and what they call an earth pony.”

The Unspeakable nodded slowly, his dour expression unchanged, but his mind clearly racing through the implications of having a unicorn as one’s animagus — a magical unicorn and not just a horse with a horn on its forehead.

“Since their arrival in England, they have taught several other students, mostly the Weasley family, how to become animagi, of which four of the group are unicorns. And they all have the power of speech while transfigured. And can cast spells with wands while in that form.” He paused again and stared at the Unspeakable significantly.

He knew that the Unspeakables would be paying a visit to Arthur, he would have to remember to give the wizard and his wife bit of a warning. “The Weasley family now has two boys who have unicorn animagi, two who are what the foreigners call earth ponies, and their daughter is a pegasus. Molly Weasley is also, now, a pegasus animagi.”

“Three of the students — all First Years — Hermione Granger, a muggle-born witch, Sweetie Belle, one of the foreign witches, and Harry Potter — yes, that Harry Potter — performed the ritual while the rest of the Gryffindor First Years watched. All three are unicorn animagi. And they performed the ritual while in unicorn forms, using their horns as the magical transmission device. Several of the other students participated as well, adding a bit of magic to help the ritual along.”

He stroked his beard. “Unlike the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest, or anywhere else that I am aware of, they can actually cast spells through their horns. I have seen them do it myself.”

The two wizards spent the next half-hour discussing Hogwarts’ foreign students and what the public knew about them. And their possible origins. Dumbledore reluctantly revealed his suspicions that they came from Atlantis, and how he had come to that conclusion. He was sure that the Unspeakables already suspected as much.

“You know more,” stated the Unspeakable sourly, after a few minutes reflection.

Dumbledore nodded his head gently, “Yes. But I wish to maintain my good relationship with them and there are some matters which they do not want to officially disclose to the public yet. I am holding this information back in my capacity as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.”

The old wizard smiled congenially, “Unofficially, though, I can say that the adults are all exceptionally powerful witches — easily the most powerful witches I have ever seen — and use wandless silent magic almost exclusively. They do not use wands and expressed surprise that we did when I met them.”

A slight raising of his eyebrows was the only sign of surprise from the other wizard.

“The new apparition spell at the ministry was provided by one of them, as a casual modification of a spell they use constantly. I saw both versions demonstrated — their wandless spell and the new one modified to work with a wizard’s wand.”

The Unspeakable nodded his understanding. “I have seen that spell. An interesting approach to the problem of transport. It doesn’t seem to have the range of apparition, though.”

“But its lack of side-effects more than compensates for that deficiency,” said Dumbledore. “And it uses less power, which means one can make more jumps, achieving the same range with less magic, but slightly more time.”

They both sat for a moment thinking.

The Headmaster narrowed his eyes slightly and added, “One thing I have noticed is that out of the nine adults that accompanied the children over here from their homeland, only one was a wizard. And the one in charge of the group is . . . ,” Dumbledore paused a moment, carefully considering, then said, “Princess Twilight Sparkle. This book is also hers. And she had no qualms about sending a book that should be shelved in the restricted section of the library to First Year students. Make of that what you will.”

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Broderick slowly said, “I wish to interview Miss Warren. There is still the question of how she died and if she knows who did it.” Unstated was that the Unspeakable wished to conduct a few diagnostic scans of his own to determine if the girl was really Myrtle Elizabeth Warren, something else entirely, or even a blend of the two.

“Of course. We can get that cleared up right now.”

“And I would like a duplicate of that spell book,” Broderick said.

Nodding and smiling, the Headmaster stood and ushered his guest out of the office and to the Hospital Wing.

۸- ̫ -۸

The Dining Hall that evening was equally split between gossiping about and gawking at the Gryffindor First Years and Myrtle Warren — who was sitting at the Ravenclaw table.

Harry could see that the poor Slytherins didn’t know what to do. Raising the dead was supposed to be the most evil of necromancy, not to mention that only the most powerful wizards or witches could attempt it. And that only after many years of intense study. An accomplishment that ordinarily would have drawn the Slytherins’ awed respect and fear. But . . . Gryffindors!? FIRST YEARS!? Seriously?

What was wrong with the world?

He couldn’t help but snicker at their expressions.

The Slytherins’ hated enemies were dabbling in magic that only the darkest of Dark Lords and Ladies explored. The kinds of wizards and witches who snubbed their noses at the rules and regulations of the pathetic squibs who ran the Ministry. The ministry that was too scared of true power to allow anyone to explore that realm of magic for fear they might be overthrown. Dark Lords and Ladies who usually came from Slytherin, sometimes from Ravenclaw, and rarely from Hufflepuff. And none in history had ever hailed from Gryffindor. And here was an entire Gryffindor First Year cohort playing with necromancy!

Only the most accomplished Dark wizards and witches knew such magic intimately. Only the most powerful Dark wizards and witches attempted such evil magic. Only the Darkest of wizards and witches dabbled in the realm of true necromancy.

Gryffindors? Seriously? What was wrong with the world?

And then there were these fourteen Gryffindors in particular! The seven cute and cuddly pony animagi, especially. Not exactly what one would call promising Dark enthusiasts.

Should they be impressed and fearful of these new Dark Lords and Ladies in training? Or offended and contemptuous that it was Gryffindors, those . . . those . . . uncouth, bleeding-heart, charge-ahead-without-considering-consequences ruffians, who had done this remarkable and nefarious deed?

How was it that Gryffindors were pushing the boundaries of Dark magic while the Slytherins were left behind, watching? Stuck wondering what the Gryffindors were going to do next that would upset the status quo. So far, the Gryffs had an unparalleled record of turning everyone’s expectations upside down — In the first week of school!

The arguments were fierce, Harry saw, and even some of the Ravenclaws were brought into the “discussions.” Several appeared ready to descend to physical violence, based on how red some of their faces were.

And how could anyone whose animagus form was a unicorn — that symbol of all that is good and pure — manage to do that without bursting into flames at the evilness? And three unicorn animagi had participated in the ritual! The Slytherins were alternately horrified, terrified, perplexed, disgusted . . . and impressed.

Gryffindors? What was the world coming to?

And what were they to make of Myrtle, herself? That evil undead abomination now wearing her freshly laundered robes and spotlessly clean glasses? They all knew — well, those in Second Year and above knew — just what sort of unpleasant and ridiculous joke of a ghost she was. Not that any dared say that to her face. Stories still circulated among the witches of how she had terrorized her classmates by drifting through them in the dead of night, waking them by nearly freezing them. And leaving them unable to warm up or sleep the rest of the night. That she had spent most of her pathetic ghostly existence crying in her toilets had been a true blessing, otherwise she could have been a terror on equal with Peeves!

She was laughing and gorging herself on the food on the table as if she were starving. On the other hand, as she frequently rebuffed her critics, “It’s been forty-eight years, two months, and twenty-five days since I’ve tasted fried chicken, steak, or truckle pudding! I’m allowed to make a pig of myself — don’t you dare try to stop me! And take your hands off that mince-pie, it’s mine!”

The rate at which she was devouring her food was truly prodigious. Even Ron was impressed, and wondered if she was hollow inside. Harry suspected that her new body required a tremendous amount of fuel after the ritual — she was, after all, replacing a conjured body with real mass. The three unicorns were also starving, and already on their thirds, having lost a bit of weight in bringing Myrtle back. A number of the other Firsties in Gryffindor were also showing an unusual appetite. The spell hadn’t mentioned that it was taking some mass from the casters.

Her seat-mates on either side of her were careful to keep their fingers well out of range of her knife and fork for fear of losing something to the meat grinder that was Myrtle. Nor did they allow their hands or arms to stray between her and any of the platters she was raiding for food for fear of being stabbed with a fork or knife. Or both.

It didn’t hurt that the Gryffindors backed her completely, with the twins taking bets on how much she would be able to eat and whether she would keep in down. The house-elves were apparently thrilled to see someone so focused on their offerings, as new platters appeared as fast as she emptied them.

Myrtle, though, certainly wasn’t acting like an evil abomination! Nor did she give off any impression that evil lurked in her heart. Sitting or standing nearby did not give one the shivers of fear that such evil was said to spread by its mere presence. Nor did she glare malevolently at anyone — unless they came between her and a food platter. And her blissful expression at every bite was more than a bit disconcerting.

Food didn’t taste that good, did it? More than one person was regarding the food on their plates with uncertain expressions, and chewing a bit slower than usual.

There was no feeling that something wasn’t right with her — except maybe her pimples. She did have any awful lot of them. But pimples, despite how many witches felt about them, were not inherently evil, or life consuming atrocities.

She should have been moody, easy to upset, and on a hair trigger for a tantrum. At least, for those that had met her as a ghost, that’s what they all said. Instead, she was downright giddy with happiness. Could that be an after-effect of the ritual?

And she would occasionally stop and just stroke her hands on her clothes or face. Or through her hair. And her eyes fairly sparkled as she looked around the Great Hall.

The most evil thing she had said so far was that all the girls who had tormented her in Hogwarts all those years ago were now miserable ugly old hags with teats down to their knees! And she had laughed uproariously at that thought. She had had her revenge.

And her plans for the evening, to all who would listen, was to spend the entire evening in the hot tub that her new Gryffindor friends had generously invited her to use. Her first real soak in, again, forty-eight years, two months, and twenty-five days.

Maybe something in the spell itself had made her so cheerful, the students concluded — outside of the obvious result of her not being dead anymore, of course. Although a few maintained that not being dead was a more than sufficient reason to be in joyous celebration.

Harry could see several Ravenclaw girls eyeing their new Housemate suspiciously. They seemed especially perturbed by the way Myrtle was eyeing the boys at their table, whenever she stopped eating for a moment. And she frequently looked over at other Houses’ wizards as well. The looks she gave certain male prefects were not only inviting, but down-right fiery.

Harry had seen looks like those only in movies that he had managed to catch a glimpse of through the tiny holes in his cupboard door at the Dursleys’ house. Usually ones that Aunt Petunia had rented and played only when she knew both his uncle and his cousin were not going to be about for several hours — and she had forgotten that her husband had exiled Harry to his cupboard, yet again.

He wasn’t sure, exactly, what those looks meant, except that many of the witches in the Great Hall seemed to take offense at seeing it directed towards the wizards they were sitting near. And the wizards, when they noticed, almost always looked away while they blushed. A very few wizards returned her looks with what Harry thought was an odd expression.

So, even though Myrtle Warren was definitely not an evil abomination bent on world domination, eating others’ souls, or destruction in general, she did manage to put a certain kind of fear into a large portion of the female population at Hogwarts.

And Headmaster Dumbledore watched everything with twinkling eyes while Severus scowled at the Gryffindors — Sweetie Belle seemed to be the main target of his displeasure. Filius and Minerva alternated between being pleased at how their respective Houses were reacting and worried at what might be coming in the future — albeit for different reasons. Quirinus devoted his time to closely studying both Myrtle and the Atlanteans.

Minerva had complained to Albus earlier, as they discussed the latest incident in his office with the other Heads of Houses. They had been hashing out how they were going to handle the situation with the newly-reborn Myrtle. “This year’s Gryffindor Firsties are showing an unusual aptitude for inventing entirely new areas of professorial concern,” she had complained. “I have already forbidden Gryffindor House from exorcizing or assisting any ghosts to their next great adventure — which includes leaving Peeves alone — to my personal regret. On the other hand, that pronouncement has apparently earned my House a reprieve from his pranks.” She had sighed. “But who knows how long that will last!

“The Atlantean girls, however, have expressed disappointment at losing their chance to be Cutie Mark Crusader Necromancers,” she had continued, shuddering.

“And now, this afternoon, I had to extend that ban to include returning to life any ghosts, or other deceased individuals, whether human or not. Peeves is apparently currently in hiding, wanting no part, it seems, in being turned to corporeal form.”

۸- ̫ -۸

The list, prominently posted beside the Common Room door so that it could not be missed while exiting the room for the rest of the castle, now had two new rules:

3) Students are not allowed to manifest, materialize, restore, or otherwise turn or return to life any ghosts, or other deceased or non-corporeal individuals, whether human or not. Period.
..a) This includes, but is not limited to, banshees, dementors, draugrs, ghouls, inferi, jiangshis, liches, mummies, phantoms, poltergeists, revenants, shadow persons, skeletons, spectres, vampires, wights, wraiths, and zombies.
..b) Yes, this includes Peeves, no matter how much he deserves hexing.
4) Students are not allowed to attempt spells or rituals from household grimoires or books from home without FIRST getting permission from their Head of House OR the Headmaster. Preferably BOTH.
..a) Individual spells brought or sent from home are included in this.
..b) As are any spells from a source not in the Hogwarts Library.
..c) As are any spells from books in the Hogwarts Restricted Section.
..d) And book, for the purposes of this list, shall be construed to be anything with a spell written on it.

۸- ̫ -۸

“And they haven’t even been at school for a full week, yet!” She had concluded, shuddering to think at the mischief they would get into once they had settled in and had become used to the Castle and its foibles.

“I never thought I would say it, but I miss when it was just the Weasley twins I had to keep an eye on. Now it’s the entire Gryffindor First Year class!” She had buried her head in her hands.

Severus had looked almost pleased to hear of her difficulties.

And the past day had distracted her from any more surprise hexing, to Dumbledore’s relief.

Just as dinner wound down and students began to stand and leave, there was brilliant flash of light near the ceiling. A beautiful melody trilled out across the Hall. A phoenix had just flashed into the Hall and was circling the room.

It was a beautiful bird with a golden-feathered head, wings with leading edges of red-feathers and trailing gold-feathers, and a gold-feathered breast and red-feathered back. Its long trailing tail was a mixture of both and seemed to leave a trail of gold and red shimmering behind it.

The Headmaster looked up and said, “Fawkes? I wonder what brings him here?”

As the bird spotted its intended target and dove straight down to Harry, Dumbledore corrected himself. “Oh, that’s not Fawkes,” he said, surprised. Almost as soon as he said that, another phoenix flashed into the room and circled.

It had a red-feathered head with red feathers leading its wings. The body feathers were similar to the other phoenix. Its song, as it circled, watching the other bird, was a gorgeous and soothing counterpoint to the first one’s.

“Ah, that’s Fawkes,” the Headmaster needlessly said.

The first phoenix came to a gentle landing between Harry and Sweetie Belle’s plates and dropped a scroll from one claw. It still held another.

Harry looked at the scroll beside his plate and saw the Equestrian Royal Seal. He paled significantly. Sweetie Belle saw the seal, too, and looked at the bird. “Philomena?” she asked. The bird gave a soft trill of acknowledgement and leaned into Sweetie Belle’s hand as she hesitantly started to stroke it.

Fawkes began a slow glide to the backrest on the Headmaster’s throne.

“Well?” asked Apple Bloom, “Ain’t ya gonna open it?”

Slowly, Harry picked up the scroll and unrolled it. The girls crowded close and he held it so all three could easily read it. Sweetie Belle offered a large chunk of roast to the phoenix before turning her attention to the letter. Hermione surreptitiously, or so she thought, vainly tried to peek.

۸- ̰ -۸

Dear Harry Potter, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo,

We recently received a letter from your Headmaster asking if certain stories you’ve recounted about your experiences in Ponyville are accurate. We are writing you to let you know that We are confirming those stories so you needn’t worry about being in trouble for talking about things youshouldn’t.

They exchanged glances. That was one bolt they had managed to dodge. Although how their relatives would enforce a grounding was an interesting question.

You may tell the truth to anyone who asks about your lives in Ponyville, just so long as you do not reveal that Equestia is a different world, or that your normal form is as a pony. While Our plans for an embassy are proceeding quite nicely, We are not yet ready to announce Our presence publicly.

On a different topic, my faithful student has told me of some of your experiences — We were quite startled and pleased to discover that you can change back to your Equestrian selves while in that world. That you were able to coax the Weasley family into resuming the pony forms given to them by Discord — whom no one has seen since, except Fluttershy — speaks well of your teaching abilities.

We are proud to hear that you assisted a lost soul to his final journey on the other side of the veil. Even if it was accidental, it still shows great strength of character and kindness to a creature rarely seen in Equestria.

We are delighted that you met one of Woofy’s counterparts. Woofy does enjoy his tummy rubs. And when he’s being temperamental, nothing soothes him better than a nice lullaby — puts him right to sleep.

Written in small letters that curved up the side of the scroll, someone, probably Luna, had added:

Which is why his post at Tartarus’ gate has a sound-proofing magical shield around it!
.
And what did you think of being the opposite gender for a day? Was it interesting? And all completely by accident! What a great prank that would make. Did you manage to save any of the potion? Could you send Me . . .

Beside the crossed-out “~~Me~~,” and slightly above it, was written “Us,” underlined twice.

. . . some? You must tell MeUs all about it!

Twilight tells me your letters to your relatives are always the high points of their days, even if they are a bit startling. Your first week has certainly been exciting, hasn’t it? We can hardly wait to hear what new experiences come your way in the next few weeks.

With all Our love and support,
Princess Celestia
Princess Luna

۸- ̫ -۸

After scarfing down the chunk of meat provided by Sweetie Belle, Philomena took to the air again and headed for the Headmaster. She swooped low over his plate and dropped the second scroll into his soup, then flew up and around to land on his backrest beside Fawkes, where the two birds began a softly-trilled conversation.

The Headmaster gave Harry and his girlfriends a quick smirk, then turned his attention to fishing the scroll out of his dinner and drying it off with a spell. Harry found that watching the old wizard’s eyebrows work their way up to his forehead as he worked his way down the scroll was quite amusing.

That evening, the Owlery was depopulated as wizards and witches sent missives home with the latest exploits of the mysterious foreigners, rumoured to be from Atlantis, and the Gryffindor Firsties — with many owls carrying more than one delivery! And not all the mail was fixated on the Harry Potter’s phoenix and Myrtle’s resurrection, except as asides to their main topic, the Gryffindors later surmised.

Harry and the fillies, reluctantly and with Philomena’s assistance, sent a short scroll to the Princesses detailing today’s successful experiment in materializing ghosts. The only down side to the whole affair was that they hadn’t gotten Cutie Marks for raising the dead.

Then they sent their owls to their relatives and Harry sent Hedwyg to Twilight. “Take your time,” he said, stroking the Snowy White owl gently. “No need to hurry.”

۸- ̫ -۸

56 — Fudging Answers

Sunday morning was not at all pleasant for the Headmaster. Neither was the afternoon. In fact, the entire day could have been removed and Dumbledore would have been perfectly happy with that. And it was such a pity because he had been looking forward to a day when he wasn’t being surreptitiously hexed by his second-in-command.

His first inkling that the day wasn’t going to be sunshine and roses were the green flames appearing in his fireplace as he came down the stairs to his office for breakfast. Usually, he took his breakfasts and lunches in his office, reserving the dinner hour for his benevolent appearance in the Great Hall.

“Ah, Albus? Are you there?” came a hesitant voice.

Albus sighed. It was Cornelius Fudge, the Head of the British Ministry of Magic. A more incompetent, or corrupt, Minister would be difficult to find. At the time of his election, considering the splintered political climate, he was the only choice all sides could agree upon. All the other candidates gave too much power to one side or another. The only other candidate who could win was Albus himself, and he wanted no part of the tremendous time-suck that that position entailed. Nor the people he would have to deal with on a daily basis. Children were so much easier to control and steer to the proper way of thinking.

And he didn’t like the thought of being in such a position of power. The temptations to use that power were tremendous, and, without great effort, could easily slide into the realm of abuse of that power. It could lead to assuming that what he thought was the correct way was the only way, and not just ignoring dissent but treating it as a betrayal of trust. Yes, that path was fraught with perils for the weak-willed or timid.

Or even the strong-minded. As he had discovered, oh, so many years ago.

“Yes, Cornelius,” the old wizard said quietly to the head in his fireplace. “Did you want to come through? I was just about to have my breakfast. Would you care to join me?”

“Yes,” Minister Fudge said, “A cup of tea would be nice — I’ve already had my breakfast.”

Moments later, the two were sitting down to a table at one side of the office. The Minister sat down heavily into the chair across from the Headmaster and set his green bowler hat on the table beside his cup.

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. “What can I do for you, Cornelius?”

“I hadn’t even woken up properly before I started to receive floo-calls from some rather important members of our society,” the Minister started fussily, nervously tapping his hat’s brim with one finger.

Dumbledore nodded his understanding. All those owls last night had arrived at their destinations early this morning. It was too bad that he didn’t have time to prevent that exodus last night. Without sufficient preparation and adjustments to Hogwarts’ owl-enchantments, there was nothing he could do to prevent the events of the previous day from being disclosed by the students.

That meant that Lucius Malfoy had floo’d the Minister soon after his son’s owl had arrived. Lucius had been a former lieutenant in Voldemort’s Death Eater organization.

The Death Eaters had been a true terrorist group, in every meaning of the word. A more misguided, ruthless, murderous, and evil revolutionary faction would be difficult to find.

Today, though, Lucius was as a respectable citizen, patron of the arts, well-known charity sponsor, and leader of the ultra-conservative Dark political party in the Wizengamot. Which balanced nicely with the Light political party that Albus led. And left a moderately-sized group of Unaligned that the other two sides tried to sway to their way of thinking whenever anything in the Wizengamot came to a vote.

A nice stable system where nothing radical ever passed. Although Dumbledore did wish that he could pass several modifications to existing laws to ensure fairer treatment for new wizards and witches. And rescind several old laws that needlessly discriminated against other creatures in the Wizarding World. Plus, there were many laws that needed to be tweaked to remove old prejudices and allow more opportunities to muggle-born wizards and witches, while still giving some preference to pure-bloods and half-bloods.

And while there were rumours that he dabbled in the Dark Arts, and owned many Dark artefacts, the Headmaster was sure Lucius had turned over a new leaf and truly regretted the misguided deeds of his youth. Back then, Malfoy had believed that pure-blood wizards were naturally superior to all other creatures and should rule the world with an iron-hand. In his opinion, at that time, muggle-born wizards and witches should be exterminated at birth — the man had known nothing of either economics or breeding.

It was such a relief to Dumbledore to know that the opportunity he had offered ten years ago to Lucius to repent had born fruit. Oh, yes, Lucius had said he was under the influence of the imperious, but he never would have gained the status he had without a little subtle help from the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. A bit of a reward for his reformation.

The wizard had reformed and now understood that there was a place in their society for the new wizards and witches. That they were needed to fill certain levels and positions in society, and to bring new blood, no pun intended, to the wizarding society. That remaining hidden from the muggle-society was the best course of action. That trying to rule the muggles would only end in disaster for everyone.

The Headmaster delicately took a bite of his toast while he waited patiently for Cornelius to continue.

“They are very concerned! They said that their children had sent them owls about necromancy at Hogwarts!” Fudge gave Albus an outraged look. “That some foreign students had performed a forbidden ritual and raised the dead! That, that . . . creature was now wandering the halls of the school, freely, a menace to wizards and witches alike!”

Dumbledore swallowed his bite, “Why, yes, Cornelius, the Gryffindor First Years — together, as a group — did perform what some might term a necromantic ritual. However, it was not a forbidden ritual. Necromancy itself is not illegal, as you know. The Old Laws expressly allow the study of such things, despite my attempts to make it otherwise. And Mr. Malfoy believes quite firmly that we should keep the Old Laws as they are.” He looked at the Minister, eyes twinkling, knowing he had deflected the other wizard’s attention from the Atlanteans.

The Minister had a confused look. He didn’t know whether to be scared at the confirmation of the “rumours,” outraged that the ritual was not forbidden, or worried at what his largest monetary patron might say upon hearing that he, as the Minister, had decried an activity his patron supported. Plus, if his patron supported the Old Laws, why had he complained to Fudge about what the students had done?

The older wizard took another bite, chewed, and swallowed it. “Under the Old Laws, as they stand now, it is forbidden to use a ritual to deliberately create a banshee, draugr, ghost, ghoul, inferi, jiangshi, lich, mummy, phantom, poltergeist, revenant, shadow person, skeleton, spectre, vampire, wight, wraith, or zombie.” He took another bite and chewed as he raised his eyebrows at the Minister. His eyes were twinkling, he knew.

Fudge tapped on finger on the brim of his hat, and looked around the office. He took a sip of his tea. His hand shook. “And what did these . . . Gryffindor students do?” he finally asked.

The Headmaster swallowed his bite, “Do you remember a Miss Myrtle Warren, from your days at Hogwarts?”

Surprised at the non-sequitur, the Minister of Magic frowned. After a moment, he said, “No, can’t say that I do. What does that person have to do with this?”

“Perhaps you might remember her as ‘Moaning Myrtle’?” gently prompted the Headmaster.

The frown deepened a moment, then Fudge said, surprised, “Oh, do you mean that horrid ghost in the witches’ toilets on the second floor?”

“Yes. Miss Warren has been returned to the land of the living by a previously unknown ritual, one which requires the presence of unicorns, and freely-given blood during the ritual from a unicorn.” Dumbledore looked at the other wizard over his glasses. “And you know unicorns cannot abide by anything tainted by evil, or are impure in any manner, correct?” He smiled at the stunned Minister. “I performed more than a few magical scans searching for anything that might indicate she wasn’t what she appeared as — a normal fourteen-year-old witch with a severe case of acne. They all came up negative.” He continued to smile reassuringly as he added, “An Unspeakable came over yesterday and gave her a clean bill of health.” He chuckled lightly, “At least psychically clean, that is. Madam Pomfrey already certified the young witch as being in perfect health. Except for a case of acne.”

He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. “She is not a banshee, draugr, ghost, ghoul, inferi, jiangshi, lich, mummy, phantom, poltergeist, revenant, shadow person, skeleton, spectre, vampire, wight, wraith, or zombie. What she is, is a friendless, dejected, lonely, lost little girl whose parents have passed on and her siblings, and the rest of her muggle relatives, do not remember her.”

۸- ̫ -۸

Myrtle was, at that moment, laughing uproariously at the red-faced reaction of the wizard she just had been flirting with — she had learned a lot about wizard and witch relationships over the last forty-eight years, two months, and twenty-five days. And anxiously awaited her first opportunity to put some of the more physical of those lessons into practice, as she didn’t mind telling anyone who would listen. She only had to wait a few more days. Yes, there were a lot of things she knew about wizard and witch relationships that she could barely wait to experience for herself.

The young wizard’s girlfriend was dragging him away by the hand while giving Myrtle a dagger-laced look that didn’t terrify the newly-reborn witch in the slightest. One of Myrtle's new dorm-mates, a younger witch, was giggling at her side.

The twins had changed their betting from when Myrtle would get laid, and with whom, to include how many wizards she would go through before the year was over! They even had a side-bet on how many couples would break-up over her. And if she would pursue any multiple encounters.

Harry could only shake his head at their antics. And he had thought the Cutie Mark Crusaders were difficult to handle. Although he shuddered to think what those three would be like in a couple of years when stallions drew their attention. And he did hope he wouldn’t lose them as friends.

۸- ̬ -۸

Fudge leaned back in his chair. “They brought a ghost back to life?”

The old wizard nodded. “The ritual is of minor use, however. It restores the individual to the moments before the ghost was created, a minute or two at the most.”

He shook his head sadly. “Few deaths are instantaneous, you know. Thus, if the person died moments after a stab to the heart, then that is what he will be restored as, someone with a stab wound in the heart just moments from death. A medical professional might save a poisoning victim, if he is there with the proper antidote and he acts quickly enough. The same could be said for drowning victims. But those who died from violence or old age will find the ritual of no use.” He paused in thought. “It might be of use in those cases where someone was hit with the avada kedavra curse, however.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, I shall suggest that to Madam Bones.”

The Minster paled at the thought of that dreaded curse. He took a sip of his tea, his hand still shaking slightly. “And an Unspeakable examined her?”

“Yes. His exact words, after all the scans he made, were, ‘She’s just a girl. Pity, that.’” The Headmaster chuckled. “I do believe he was hoping for something a bit more exciting.”

Fudge took another sip of his tea, somewhat calmer, now, and sat thinking for a few moments.

“And what is this I hear that most of the Gryffindor First Years are animagi?”

Albus smiled. “Actually, it’s just seven of the fourteen Gryffindors, five witches and two wizards. There are the three foreigners, of course, Misses Belle, Aloo, and Bloom. Then there are the two Weasley children, Mr. Ronald and Miss Ginerva Weasley. Then there is a muggle-born, Miss Granger, and, finally, Harry Potter.” He smiled smugly at seeing the Minister’s stunned reaction. “Yes, I do believe this sets a record for Hogwarts. Never have there been that many confirmed animagi in Hogwarts, much less in a single House. In fact, they alone double the number of known animagi in the last century.” He took a sip of tea to hide his smirk at getting into the record books, again. “And to be First Years, all, is indeed an accomplishment we shan’t see repeated anytime soon.”

“In addition, Mr. Potter, and Misses Belle and Granger, are unicorn animagi. Misses Weasley and Aloo are pegasi, and Mr. Weasley and Miss Bloom are what they call earth-ponies.”

Fudge sat silent, eyes wide, too surprised to say anything. “Harry Potter is a unicorn?” he finally squeaked out.

Dumbledore nodded. “And the Weasley family has three other children who are animagi. The twins, George and Fred are unicorns, and Percy is an earth pony. And their mother recently mastered the ability and is a pegasus.”

Eye’s twinkling, he added, “Plus, Mr. Wood and Misses Johnson, and Spinnet, also of Gryffindor, are pegasi.” He relished the look of shock on the other wizard’s face.

The Headmaster could see the Minister mulling over the revelations. He was paying more attention, Dumbledore was sure, to the previous list of pony animagi than the last four mentioned. He idly wondered when the wizard would realize that Gryffindor House had thirteen students who had mastered the difficult art of becoming animagi — almost five percent of the House. And almost double the number of registered animagi. A record he was sure would stand for many centuries. He finished off the last of his breakfast.

Fudge, he knew, was focusing on something else entirely.

The Weasley family, while an old pure-blood family with more than a little political influence, was a bit of a laughing stock to the other pure-blood families. The Weasleys’ poverty and liberal pro-muggle, pro-muggle-born stance had kept them low on the social scale. Their principled stands on Light issues were well-reasoned to many, even though the others might disagree on details. Everyone knew that the Weasleys, when they took a stand, did so out of convictions and not because someone had bought, bribed, or traded with them to get their support.

Not all, though, thought that standing on one’s principles when one wasn’t supporting the Dark agenda was a noble idea. They regarded such stances as traitorous.

Many Dark-leaning families laughed at the Weasleys’ many children and ridiculed them behind their backs. They openly called them blood-traitors for their support of muggles and muggle-borns. And considered their poverty to be well-earned.

That both Arthur and Molly were personally well-liked among the other pure- and half-blood families was of little consequence to the Dark leaning families. They only cared about the “pure” families that stayed true to their obvious moral and magical superiority to the other wizards and witches, not to mention, shudder, the muggles.

However, having five of the Weasleys’ seven children become animagi while still in Hogwarts was astounding. Having two of them become animagi even before starting Hogwarts meant the family was magically very powerful. Everyone knew it took years of study and careful instruction to accomplish such a feat — and usually only succeeded when the wizards or witches were adults. A long, time-consuming process that most wizards and witches considered not worth their time.

And yet, the Weasley children had done it before leaving Hogwarts! And this accomplishment was despite the family’s Head of House’s clearly pedestrian magical abilities! So much apparent magical ability in one family moved them far up the social ladder as desirable spouses. He wondered how long it would take for the news to spread that Molly, their mother, was also an animagi. He wondered if Harry and his girlfriends could teach that skill to Arthur.

If you’re smart, with a bit of luck you can make yourself wealthy. But, no matter how smart you are, you can only increase your magical legacy by marrying into it. And wizards admired magical prowess more than money. As a result, whether or not you were a pure-blood, half-blood, or muggle-born made no difference — magical power trumped all. Which, in turn, once the word got out, made the Weasleys even more politically influential than before, especially when you considered their blood status.

More than a few would follow whatever Arthur suggested politically in the hopes of winning one of his children as a spouse for their children. Or, if they were playing the long game and willing to wait to see if this generation was just a fluke, one of their grandchildren. Plus, when the word got out that the saviour of the magical world, Harry Potter, was a good friend of the family . . . .

Albus looked out the windows of his office and smiled. He could foresee a pay-raise in the offering for Arthur in the near future, as Fudge tried to buy his loyalty in the Ministry. He expected that Percy and the twins might soon be receiving some attention from the old-family witches who before now had ignored them as “poor” choices for a husband. Each offering a generous dowry to entice their prospective husband.

In a year, perhaps only a few months if the Weasley parents could be convinced to accept a marriage contract, or their sons were enamoured of the witch being offered by her parents, the Weasleys would be poor no more.

“Well,” said Fudge as he stood and picked up his hat. “I’ll be sure to pass the word to those that matter that the rumours are wrong, then. That there were no forbidden rituals and that the Unspeakables have already concluded their investigation into the matter. What an extraordinary achievement, bringing a ghost back to life.” He flashed a fake smile at the Headmaster. “Thank you for your time,” he said. “I must get back to the office now, much to do, you know. So many details to governing properly!”

The Headmaster knew that most Sundays Fudge spent his day lazing at home. This Sunday, however, he would spend talking with his sponsors, discussing how they could turn the upheavals to come in the political landscape to their advantage.

He wondered how long it would take for the Minister to hear about the phoenix that was now accompanying Harry Potter.

No sooner had the irksome Minister disappeared into the floo then it once again flashed green. “Headmaster?” came the imperious and easily recognizable voice of Thomas Bulstrode, “May I come through?”

Albus sighed. “Yes, of course.” The Bulstrode’s were an old, pure-blood family going back to before the founding of the Wizengamot. And while not Dark, they supported many of the bills proposed by the Dark faction in the Wizengamot, while voting against many of the bills the Light-side put forth to moderate the political climate.

Moments later, the wizard settled into an armchair and said, “Millicent sent me an owl last night about some foreigners using a necromantic ritual to return a ghost to life.” He frowned darkly. “What are you teaching in this school, now days? And who are these foreigners?”

Simultaneously, the floo again flared green and the aristocratic voice of August Longbottom, Neville’s grandmother, came through. “Headmaster Dumbledore, are you there?”

Dumbledore sighed again. It was going to be a long day.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Harry thought the morning was going rather well. Myrtle was clearly having fun with her House-mates, gauging by her laughter and the giggles coming from some of the others whenever he saw her, either inside or outside the castle. The fillies, and the other Gryffindor First Year girls, had quite enjoyed their time with her in the hot tub last night, he had learned this morning.

They had apparently spent most of the evening talking . . . gossiping . . . about her experiences as a ghost. Lavender and Parvati had been especially interested in the stories the ghost had to tell about the events and couples she had spied on over the years, and especially any gossip covering the previous week of school. Hermione had been disapproving of the subject matter, frequently steering the topics — interrupting, Lavender and Parvati had insisted — to what magic the ghost had seen and the things she had learned.

Myrtle had bragged that no one alive knew the castle as thoroughly as she did! “Not even the twins,” she had gigglingly added. She had promised to show the Gryffindors some of the secrets, to the fillies delight and Hermione’s frowned worry when she told this to Harry.

After breakfast, the Ravenclaws let it be known that they wanted a quidditch re-match. This time, the pegasi released a snitch, just to give the Ravenclaws a chance at winning the game. It was more like dangling a hope just out of their reach.

The game ended shortly before lunch. The Ravenclaws had once more received a severe thrashing — by the time the snitch had appeared, the pegasi had a huge lead.

The Gryffindor Firsties were starting back to the castle when Harry stopped. He looked at Apple Bloom, and asked, “Have you tried casting a spell as a pony, yet?”

She looked at him, puzzled. “I’m not a unicorn.”

Ron, Ginny, and Scootaloo watched quietly.

“No, I mean, with your wand.”

She looked at him a moment, frowning. Then she shrugged, “Okay.” She pulled her wand from its holster, getting admiring glances from those students who only had pockets in their robes for a wand.

She handed it to Harry, then turned into a pony. He held it out to her and she took it in her mouth. She frowned a moment and mumbled lumos. Her eyes got wide as she saw the tip of her wand glow. A quick nox put it out.

She shot out red and then green sparks, and started jumping up and down, crying out, “It works, it works!”

In a matter of moments, Ron, Ginny, and Scootaloo were duplicating her efforts and soon were firing stinging hexes at each other, dodging, running, and, in Scootaloo’s case, trying to strafe the others while flying.

The other students watched, astonished. Professor McGonagall had never mentioned this possibility for an animagus!

Once again, the antics of the Gryffindor First Years were the centre of all conversation in the Great Hall during lunch, even at the Headmaster’s Table, although the Headmaster himself was absent. Harry was positive that their Head of House was going to be spending at least a few minutes later this afternoon testing to see if her cat animagus could cast spells using her wand. Or maybe immediately after lunch.

Professor Quirrell listened attentively, and, when asked, merely offered that if anyone else had made that discover, they had kept it a secret. His stutter had made for a needlessly long wait for his complete answer.

Professor McGonagall had said, “The animagus transformation takes everything the wizard or witch holds into the magic — which is why an animagus transformation doesn’t leave a pile of clothes behind, unless you’re rather careless or dangerously distracted. And as no one wants to be without their wand, no one has experimented with leaving their wand behind during a transformation. Making things more challenging, most animals are incapable of speech, and non-verbal spell casting is difficult for many wizards and witches. That would discourage the very few wizards and witches that might have been interested in using their wands in that manner.

“Not to mention,” she had drily added, “that carrying their wand as an animagus would have been a problem. Especially for those whose animagus might have been a bird, reptile, or other small animal.”

The Equestrians had looked at each other and quietly laughed. Ponies didn’t have the vocal limitation, and they had created saddlebags an extremely long, long time ago. Small animals might have difficulty carrying a wand, but larger ones certainly didn’t. Especially if they had bags or harnesses that could be fitted. And with the possibility of having a small wand holster to carry the wand on a leg while a pony . . . .

۸- ̬ -۸

58 — Under-estimating

“GAH!” Harry said as the entire rest of the student body gasped and stared in stunned silence. Twilight had transformed into her human form. And, standing on the table, she was clearly visible to everyone in the Great Hall. That she was only a hands-width shorter than two meters, and almost half-a-head taller than even the Weasley twins, made it easy for everyone to see her.

Harry’s mind went blank for a moment as he watched Twilight look around at the surprised wizards and witches, startled at their loud gasp at seeing her transform. He was relieved that, for once, she hadn’t been too preoccupied with the immediate situation. Relieved that she had actually thought things out before she had transformed. Relieved that she had actually remembered all his lectures about wearing clothes whenever she wasn’t in her bedroom while on Earth.

Harry knew she usually removed all her clothes before she returned to Equestria through the portal, as they all normally did. From her reaction when she arrived, he doubted Philomena had stopped by the portal to give her a chance to grab any clothes. Maybe he should suggest she keep a set of clothes in her saddlebags for the next time she was unexpectedly brought to Earth. With the Undetectable Expansion Charm it shouldn’t be a bother.

She was “wearing” the form-fitting dress she had worn when they first came through the portal. A dress Rarity had quickly replaced with something more befitting her status and planned activities in this world. Only Harry knew the clothes were an illusion. He hoped.

There were a few wolf-whistles and a general noise of approval from the older wizards at her rather striking well-endowed figure. The witches, meanwhile, gave exclamations of disapproval or envy. And hexed their boyfriends, either current or new, for staring. Sometimes more than once. Myrtle, Harry noticed, was staring at Twilight with a rather strange expression, he thought.

Harry sighed. He let go of her ankle and reached up for her hand. “Come on down from there,” he said quietly. He guided her over to his side of the table and helped her keep her balance as she stepped down. As soon as she was beside him, he whispered, “That’s not a solution, there are spells that let people see through illusions, like the ones on my glasses.” He looked around the Hall, again. None of the older wizards were acting as it they had learned that particular spell, yet.

He was grateful that he had never turned on that particular feature in his glasses. He had no desire to see the Headmaster or Malfoy’s goons unclothed. The thought alone was enough to make him shudder. He had tried that feature only once, in the privacy of his own room, to see if it really worked. It had. Clothes appeared as a slight outline of the person being viewed. He wondered if there was an easy counter-spell one could put on their clothes to block that spell?

He would mention it later to Twilight. If the spell didn’t exist, he knew she would be the one who could create one. And he would make sure the fillies, as well as Hermione and Ginny, had that counter-spell. And Angelina and Alicia, now that he thought of it. He was sure they would make sure all the other witches knew it.

The fillies were not helping the situation as they were clearly trying to stifle their laughter at the wizards, and their witch’s, reactions, and turning bright red in the effort.

Twilight sighed. “Ah,” she whispered back to him, “Well, it’ll do for now. Although it does seem so silly to be fixated on wearing clothes all the time.”

Harry sighed, “But it isn’t to these people.” He looked over at that the Gryffindor chasers. “Maybe we can borrow something from one of the girls,” he muttered softly. He had to get her out of the Hall before she accidentally did something revealing.

As the Headmaster cast a quick reparo on the damaged table, Harry began to direct Twilight down the table towards the Great Hall doors. She, in turn, was staring at the ceiling. “Oh, my!” she said. That’s quite a piece of spell work! I’ll have to tell Princess Celestia about it. I’m sure it would look fantastic in the throne room.” She stopped and stared intently, her lips moving slightly as she deciphered the magic she was studying.

Parvati, having heard Twilight’s deluge of questions was already headed over to Myrtle at the Ravenclaw table.

Harry just sighed, again, and, with the fillies help, steered her down the aisle. The Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress paced them on the other side of the table, at first, and then followed them bemusedly as Twilight kept her eyes on the charms in the ceiling. The other Heads of Houses started chasing the students back to their tables and restoring order.

Harry’s group had just reached the doors when the princess stopped, again.

“Oh!” Twilight said. “Where’s the filly . . . girl who used to be a ghost?” She looked around the hall.

“That would be Myrtle, here,” said Parvati as she dragged the witch behind her, catching up to them.

Hermione squeaked in surprise as the soft briefcase she had picked up off the table — the saddlebags had changed into a briefcase moments after Twilight took on her human form — suddenly flew open and a paper and quill flew out and started taking notes.

“Oh!” said Twilight as she studied the girl, frowning slightly as she scanned the Ravenclaw former-ghost from head to toe. “If you don’t mind answering,” the Equestrian princess said, “were you surprised when you became a ghost? Did you want to become a ghost? How did it happen? Did anyone see it happen? How long did it take you to realize you had died? How old were you when it happened? Are you the same age now as you were then?”

Twilight,” Harry tried to interrupt as the professors and students who had followed them — the entire Gryffindor First Year cohort plus a few of Myrtle’s new friends — listened in silence to the barrage of questions.

“Was it difficult to adapt? Were your emotions calmer or worse? When did you meet the other ghosts? Were they nice to you? Did you make any friends with the ghosts? Did you have trouble interacting with your former friends?”

“Twilight!” Harry repeated, looking around and giving their audience a hesitant smile. Myrtle had a look somewhat reminiscent of a deer caught at night in a speeding lorry’s lights.

“How did your friends react when they discovered you were a ghost? Do you know how you died? Did you walk or float everywhere? Could you freely roam or were you restricted in some manner? When you disappeared, did you just turn invisible or did you actual go somewhere else? What did you think when Harry offered to restore you to life?”

“TWILIGHT! FOCUS!” Harry hissed, yanking on her arm at the same time. Myrtle was starting to back away from the crazy witch in front of her.

Twilight turned to Harry, “What!?” She put her hands on her hips and scowled.

Harry just glared at her. She looked at the crowd around them. “Ah.” She said, dispiritedly. She dropped her hands to her sides and looked dismayed. “I did it again, didn’t I?” She sighed.

“Yes. Yes, you did. Now apologize.”

The students stared at Harry — he was reprimanding an adult? An adult who, it seemed, was a princess? The fillies just rolled their eyes.

Blushing, Twilight looked at Myrtle, “I’m sorry about that. I sometimes get a bit over-enthusiastic when I have a chance to learn something new.”

“Ya think?” Harry mumbled under his breath, making the fillies giggle.

Twilight just gave him a quick, dirty look, before turning her attention back to Myrtle. “And at home we have nothing on real ghosts,” she said.

“So, please, will you answer some of my questions? It would help me ever so much. I’m sure we could easily get a whole book published out of it. A new book.” She jogged happily in place for a moment, distracting the older watching wizards as her form-fitting illusion faithfully followed her bra-less movements. She looked at the girl hopefully. She gave the girl her rendition of the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ begging Cuteness of Doom look. It wasn’t nearly as effective as theirs, but the sheer novelty of seeing such a look directed at her from anyone, much less someone who towered over her, had the Ravenclaw nodding her in agreement. That, or it was merely her head following her eyes as she watched the princess’ chest bouncing. There was an awful lot of it.

Twilight squealed in delight, hopping in place for several seconds.

Harry saw that one of the wizards watching, a Fifth Year, he thought, had a nose-bleed. The wizard hadn’t yet noticed. The outraged expression on the witch standing nearby, and holding his hand, indicated that she had noticed her boyfriend’s problem. Harry knew that expression from his aunt when she had caught his uncle eyeing one of the women on the telly a bit too closely.

Dumbledore, who had been listening, spoke up, eyes twinkling. “Perhaps we can continue this in my office? We wouldn’t want to distract the students from their studies, now would we?”

“Oh,” Twilight said quickly, turning to face him. “I couldn’t do that! You have much more important things to do than listen to me ask questions, I’m sure. Just show us to a convenient room and we’ll be out of your way.”

The Headmaster smiled at her. “I’m sorry, but unless you are family to the student you are meeting, either myself or the student’s Head of House must be present. It’s for both yours and the student’s protection.”

Twilight looked over at Myrtle and tilted her head slightly, “So, your Head of House is?”

Before the witch could answer, though, Dumbledore said, “Professor Filius Flitwick is her Head of House.” He swept his arm courteously towards the short wizard.

“Professor Filius Flitwick,” Twilight said, facing him. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Harry has been most impressed with your classes. It will be a pleasure to speak with you. I am Twilight Sparkle.”

“Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Harry felt he had to emphasise.

“Yes, yes,” she rolled her eyes. “Princess Twilight Sparkle,” she repeated. After a hesitation, she added, “You wouldn’t mind answering a few questions for me about your magic, would you?”

The dapper little professor clicked his heels together and partially bowed. “Princess Sparkle, it would be my pleasure,” he said with a smile.

Harry noticed that the professor didn't offer his hand, so he must have assumed that wherever she came from, they did not shake hands. Or, perhaps, he thought that as she was Royalty, shaking hands with her was inappropriate.

She smiled back, a new scroll and quill floating out and starting to make notes. She said, “Please, call me Twilight, I prefer that.” She turned to the other Head of House. “Professor Minerva McGonagall, a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Twilight,” was the quick response, with a polite head-nod.

“Shall we proceed?” said the Headmaster, gesturing towards the Great Hall doors.

Twilight gave one last look up at the Great Hall ceiling, and then started walking towards the doors. As they exited the Great Hall, Twilight said, “So, Harry, was it just you, or was it you and Sweetie Belle, who did the spell casting?”

“Pretty much both of us,” Harry said. “We were all there . . . that is, all the Gryffindor First Years were in the room, but Sweetie Belle and I did the main part of the magic while Hermione was our backup and made sure we didn’t forget anything or mess up. And Sweetie Belle and Hermione supplied the drops of blood at the proper time.”

“Oooo! This is soo exciting! It’s the first time anypony has had a chance to use that spell!” She stopped and spun happily.

Looking back, Harry saw one of the older students following them walk into the side of the Great Hall doorway. He couldn’t repress his smile at the silliness of it.

The witches all had their boyfriends firmly by the hand. It was only because Twilight was a princess and the subject matter was so interesting that they didn't drag their distracted boyfriends away for some remedial training in how to act around their girlfriend. Harry knew that hexing would be involved.

From the telly shows, Harry expected the conversations to be along the lines of:

“Why are you mad at me?”

Hex. “You know why!” Hex.

“What’d I do?”

Hex.“You know very well what you did!” Hex.

“Stop hexing me!”

Hex.

He was soo glad he didn’t have any girlfriends.

The professors stopped and stared at Twilight, as did the Gryffindor First Years. “First time?” repeated the Headmaster with raised eyebrows.

Harry noticed that the number of wizards with nose-bleeds had increased, for some bizarre reason. As had the number of furious witches.

“Well, yes,” said Twilight. “I mean the theory was sound and the mathematics worked out precisely — I checked them both, myself, seven times. Once as a filly when I first read the book, then three times while I was attending Celestia’s School for Gifted . . . Students . . . when I was bored . . . . Then twice while I was living in Ponyville because we are so close to the Everfree forest and I thought for sure I would eventually find a ghost. And then once more before I sent the book to Harry. But we’ve never had an actual ghost to try it out on — and I looked everywhere for one, I even searched the crystal caverns under the palace in Canterlot.” She turned to Myrtle, “That’s why your answers are so important. You’re the very first ghost to return to life, you’re going to be famous and in all the history books!”

She spun to face Harry. “Did you try out any of the other spells? Which ones? Did they work as well? . . . .”

Harry held up his hand, stopping her. “Yes. All except the ones that would hurt a ghost — like the banishment spell. And yes.”

She turned to the Headmaster. “I think we can keep the first interview to just Harry Potter, Sweetie Belle, and Miss Myrtle.”

“It’s Myrtle Warren, actually,” Hermione offered.

Twilight spun to face the no-longer-a-ghost girl, “I am soo pleased to meet you, Miss Myrtle Warren.” She spun back to the Headmaster “So, is there a room nearby we could use?” She glanced across the Grand Entry and into the East corridor. “Oh, is that room available?” she pointed at a door just barely visible to her.

“I really think it would be more appropriate to use my office, Princess Sparkle,” the Headmaster insisted.

“Oh, there’s no reason to take up your valuable time. As Headmaster I’m sure you are far too busy to simply listen to me ask questions. I’m sure Professor Filius Flitwick and I will be able to handle things quite well.”

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore said, “I’m sure that would suffice for Miss Warren, but for Harry and Miss Belle, I’m afraid their Head of House or myself must also be present to represent their interests in lieu of their parents, ‘in loco parentis,’ you see.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, “Oh, that’s right, I haven’t given you those yet.” Additional papers flew out of her soft briefcase, startling Hermione, and everyone else watching, as the quill continued taking notes. The second one had finished and returned to her briefcase. “Here’s your copy of the paperwork declaring that I am responsible for Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo while they are attending this school, as is my duly appointed representative, Sweetie Drops, should I be unavailable.” A thin bundle of papers hovered in front of him and waited for him to grab them, which he bemusedly did. “Signed by their parents and counter-signed by Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”

Another set of papers flew out of the briefcase.

“And . . . here are your copies of the paperwork that our solicitor delivered yesterday from the Dursleys’ giving me full ‘Enduring Power of Attorney’ for Harry Potter until he reaches his majority — signed by both his aunt and uncle, and counter-signed by a judge. And, of course, Sweetie Drops is my duly appointed representative should I be unavailable.”

She looked up at him, smiling as he took the second batch of papers floating in front of him. “So we needn’t take any of your or Professor Minerva McGonagall’s valuable time,” she concluded happily. She stopped and turned to Harry and Sweetie. “Unless either of you want the Headmaster or Professor Minerva McGonagall to be there?”They both shook their heads.

“May I be there?” Hermione asked, her eager expression belying her quiet tone. “I watched and heard everything during the ritual. There might be a detail that Harry or Sweetie might have missed or forget to tell you.”

“And we provided a bit of magic, too,” Ginny said, waving her arm to indicate the rest of the Gryffindor cohort, who all nodded.

Not to be left out, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom said, “Oh, yeah,”

“. . . we should be there, too.”

“Harry’s our herd-mate.”

The Headmaster studied the papers briefly. “Well, Miss Belle, Miss Bloom, and Miss Scootaloo,” he looked up with a puzzled frown, “are foreign students from your country, and, as such, these papers do, indeed, affirm you as their magical guardian.” He shuffled through papers and looked up from them at her, “However, Harry is a British citizen and, as a result, his wizarding guardianship cannot be transferred to a foreigner. I am sorry, Princess, but either myself or Professor McGonagall must be present if he has a meeting with a non-Hogwarts’ adult, in order to protect both his and the visitor’s interests.”

He glanced at Hermione, “Or if you wish any of the other Gryffindors to be present.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, though they were still twinkling, “How, may I ask, did you convince the Dursleys to give up his guardianship?”

Twilight glanced at Harry, then back at the Headmaster. “Oh, our solicitor took care of that, He said they were quite happy to be ‘shot’ of him, as they put it.” She had a puzzled frown. “I’m not sure what they meant by that.” She sighed, “Well, that was one of the things I wanted to discuss with Harry.”

Harry stared at the Headmaster. What did he know about the Durselys? Why did he know about the Dursleys? What business was it of his to know where Harry had been? He started to grow angry. First those books of lies about him, and now this. What else was this meddling old wizard involved in with his life?

She frowned and looked back at the Headmaster. “And then I need to discuss something with you.” She squared off in front of him, rolling her head slightly. “This is a school, is it not?”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he started to smile. That was a clear warning signal for unicorns. He and the Cutie Mark Crusaders all took a step back, pushing their friends away, too.

Dumbledore smiled back at, eyes twinkling. “Of course it is.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Then explain why ‘the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.’”* She raised an eyebrow. “Explain why there is a cerberus behind a door with a lock so simple even a child could get it open?” She stared at him levelly. “I’ve dealt with a cerberus. A cerberus is not a dog you cuddle in your lap and comb her fur.” She stopped and frowned, looking away for a moment, “Unless you’re Celestia or Fluttershy, I guess,” she murmured to herself. She shook her head and took a breath. She looked back at the Headmaster.

“Nor is it one you keep behind a simple door . . . in a school . . . full of curious and mischievous children. If Celestia had made such a statement to the students of her school, the entirety of them would consider it a challenge! One they had to brave in order to prove their worthiness to be in her school. Before a week was out all of them would have had at least one gallop at that door, if not two. And Harry and the girls discovered the cerberus by accident!”

She was glaring at him now.

“If that is an example of the safest place in all of England, then I have serious doubts about the safety of Harry and the fillies!”

“I assure you, Princess Sparkle, that there have been only a few students so inclined. The rest have stayed far away from that corridor,” the Headmaster calmly stated, his eyes twinkling.

“Really?!” Twilight responded incredulously, both eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. “Really?”

He continued to calmly smile at her.

“Let’s see about that, then.” She turned and stormed back to the Great Hall. The others followed her.

She stopped in the middle of the doorway, the students gathered there back-pedalling rapidly to give her room. She took a deep breath, “YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE!” she said in the Royal Canterlot Voice.

The entire room turned to face her.

Harry winched at the volume, as did many of those closest to the doors.

“HOW MANY OF YOU KNOW WHAT IS BEHIND THE DOOR ON THE THIRD-FLOOR CORRIDOR ON THE RIGHT-HAND SIDE?”

After a moment’s hesitation, most of the students raised their hands. Including Harry, Hermione, and the fillies.

Harry stole a look at the Headmaster. He had a stunned expression. Professor McGonagall was face-palming herself. Professor Flitwick was shaking his head with a rueful smile.

Only a few hands were raised at the Slytherin table.

Twilight turned and frowned at them.

Slowly, more hands were raised until their table, too, had most of their hands in the air. Professor Snape was looking at them disapprovingly.

She nodded, then turned and glared at the Headmaster for a moment before she turned back to the Great Hall at large, “HOW MANY OF YOU HAVE ACTUALLY SEEN IT?”

Inside the Great Hall, all the hands dropped except for the Weasley twins and Neville. Harry and his friends in the doorway kept their hands up, too.

She frowned, again. “OH, COME ON!” She shook her head, disbelievingly. “WELL? HOW MANY OF YOU HAVE ACTUALLY TAKEN A LOOK? OR ARE THE GRYFFINDORS THE ONLY ONES CLEVER, CURIOUS, OR BRAVE ENOUGH TO LOOK?”

That did it. A forest of hands rose. Not nearly as many as before, maybe only a quarter, and concentrated mostly in the upper years, but rise they did.

She turned back to Dumbledore.

“You clearly underestimate your students, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.” He looked abashed. She turned back to the Hall.

“HOW MANY OF YOU PLANNED TO EXPLORE FARTHER?”

The twin’s hands were the only ones remaining up. Professor McGonagall did not look surprised to see that the Weasley twins had their hands up, each holding up both hands.

Harry frowned as he noticed the fillies still had their hands up. Scootaloo noticed him looking at her and just smirked. Apple Bloom shrugged.

Twilight snorted at the fillies and muttered, “Of course,” as she stared at the room, sweeping her gaze across the tables, frowning darkly.

Slowly, another dozen or so hands were raised, at least two from every table, with most being in Gryffindor.

The House Heads took careful note of just whom those were in their respective Houses.

“THANK YOU!” Twilight said. She turned back to the Headmaster. “Well?” She crossed her arms and stared at him.

He sighed. “I assure you that the protections on the Cerberus more than adequate.”

“Just as you assured me that your students hadn’t been trying to get past that door to see the cerberus?” She stared at him. “Based on how your assurances totally failed on the first, why should I believe they are any better on the second? Especially as you apparently have no spells on the door to warn you when someone opened it.” She paused. “Princess Celestia will want me to see those spells myself.”

Professor McGonagall looked scandalized that anyone would doubt the Headmaster’s word, as were several older students close to them. Professor Flitwick merely watched interestedly.

Dumbledore stared at her for a long moment, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

Harry knew the Headmaster had no doubts that if Twilight was unhappy with his protections, she would remove the three fillies. And Harry had made it quite clear that if they were not here, then he wouldn’t be, either, regardless of whether or not the old wizard was his magical guardian or not.

And keeping him here against his will would be impossible. Even if the Headmaster could adapt the anti-apparation spells to stop this new teleportation, Harry knew he only had to run into the Forbidden Forest a short distance to be outside them. Or he could call on Philomena, the phoenix, at any time and escape that way. Once he reached Little Whinging, he would run off to Equestria. Dumbledore, and Hogwarts, would never see him again.

“Perhaps a second opinion would be best,” he said quietly. “When you finish your meeting with Miss Warren, come to my office and you can suggest ways I might improve those protections.”

Twilight studied him carefully before nodding. “That sounds reasonable. And then you can tell me just what you have that requires a cerberus as a guard.” She turned to the two professors. “So, shall we use that room?” She pointed down the corridor she had originally suggested.

First, she talked with the Gryffindor First Years, and took a few magical scans. That took only a few minutes. “You may go now, if you want,” she said, dismissing them — there was no reason to waste their evening by waiting until she finished questioning Myrtle. Ron left after the third question she asked Myrtle, clearly bored. The others slowly trickled out.

For the next two hours, poor Myrtle was put through the wringer as Twilight carefully worked her way through her list. By the time she finished, Twilight was fairly bouncing off the walls in excitement and Myrtle looked exhausted. Of the Gryffindors, only Harry, the fillies, and Hermione remained.

Twilight slowed finally. “Oh, this is so exciting!” she said looking over the huge roll of paper containing her notes. “There’s just one more thing I’d like to try, if you don’t mind, Myrtle. From what you’ve told us, it sounds suspiciously like a basilisk or a cockatrice was responsible.”

۸-ꞈ-۸

59 — Common Sense?

Twilight shook her head in amazement. “And to think that a basilisk or cockatrice was wandering around inside the school!” She exchanged concerned looks with the two professors. “It still might be here! Hogwarts: A History never mentions one being captured or killed.” She shook her head. “How can he stand there and say this is the safest place in England while there might be a monster like that wandering through the school!”

The children exchanged their own looks. “Maybe we should get Fluttershy?” suggested Harry.

Twilight hummed, then said, “First, I need to confirm my suspicions.” She turned to Myrtle. “Which is why I want you to share your memory of what happened with me.”

The girl looked up at her tiredly, sighed, and shrugged. “Sure.”

Twilight sat down in a chair beside the girl. “Close your eyes and just think about what happened. Pull it into your thoughts, why you were in the toilets, what you were hearing, what you were feeling . . . .”

“Excuse me, Princess Sparkle . . . ,” Professor Flitwick said.

Twilight turned and stared at him exasperatedly.

“. . . Twilight,” he amended.

She nodded and smiled.

“I don’t think you know that it is illegal to legilimens a child.”

“Legilimens? A child?” Twilight looked at Myrtle. “Hmm.” She thought a moment. “Yes. I think some of your people might think that what I was about to do does match your definition of a legilimens.” She looked over at the professor. “However,” she turned to the witch, “you were fourteen when this happened, correct?” Myrtle nodded. “And you were a ghost for forty-eight years. So, that means you are technically sixty-two years old.” She looked back at the professor. “I think we can safely say that she is old enough to no longer be a child.”

Both professors frowned at Twilight. They exchanged glances. Technically, it was true. Myrtle had been born in 1929. And that made her sixty-two years old. Definitely not a child. Harry knew, just from what little he had learned reading the histories about the wizarding world, that it was an argument that might be over-ruled by the Wizengamot, based solely on her apparent physical age right now being only fourteen, and that her ghostly state had held her in a limbo of aging. But they were also talking about a basilisk possibly being in the castle.

Professor Flitwick turned back to Twilight. “As long as she agrees, and you restrict your searching to only the incident of her untimely death.”

Twilight looked at Myrtle and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

The witch shrugged. “I don’t mind,” she said. She closed her eyes and frowned, obviously thinking about the incident.

As she did so, Twilight leaned close and pressed her forehead to the girl’s forehead for a few seconds. Then she sat up.

“Okay, probably a basilisk. The eyes are too big for a cockatrice to fit in that room so it has to be a snake. That would make it . . . ,” She frowned, thinking, “about twelve celestials in length!” She sat back, eyes wide, “Wow! That’s huge!” At the puzzled expressions everyone had, she added, “About twenty of your yards.”

She looked over at Professor McGonagall. “Who hunted down that monster? I’ve never heard of one that large before. Usually a dragon eats it before it has a chance to get any bigger than four or five celestials.”

The transfigurations’ professor just stared at her. “Twenty yards?” she finally said. She had paled significantly. She exchanged looks with the short professor.

“About.”

Frowning, Professor Flitwick said, “To the best of our knowledge, no one ever suspected that the cause of Miss Warren’s demise was a basilisk or cockatrice.”

Twilight stared at him, aghast. “You mean there’s probably been a basilisk loose in the school and no one knew it?! For decades?”

The diminutive professor shrugged his shoulders. “Back in 1943 there had been some attacks on students by a mysterious ‘monster.’ Several attacks, but no deaths, so no one suspected that a basilisk might be at the root of it — basilisks and cockatrices kill with their stare, not just petrify. And with the proper potion, which was being prepared, all the victims were expected to make a full recovery. Plus, no one knew of a beast that would only petrify someone and not kill them. It was considered an annoyance more than anything else. The students considered it more of a challenge than a threat. They spent hours every day after classes searching for the creature, I was told.” He shook his head bemusedly.

Twilight stared at him incredulously.

“After Miss Warren’s unfortunate incident, however,” he continued, “the school board was planning to close the school and hunt the beast that killed her. Before that could happen, though, a student was caught with an illegal and very dangerous giant pet spider. The spider escaped to the Forbidden Forest and the attacks in the school stopped. He was judged to be the one controlling the monster, his wand was snapped, and he was expelled.”

Twilight stared at him sceptically. “Spiders don’t kill by turning one to stone. Neither does their bite petrify. Everyone knows that. There aren’t even any mythological spiders that do that. They always bite their prey to inject poison. Didn’t anyone examine her body for bite marks? Or even just ask her ghost what had happened?”

“The Headmaster at the time, Headmaster Armando Dippet, made the decision that having caught the culprit, no further actions needed to be taken,” Professor McGonagall said. “The attacks stopped immediately, which gave some credence to the opinion that he was correct in his assessment: that the monster was hiding in the Forbidden Forest, and the one controlling its attacks in the school had been removed from the school. Without its owner it would leave the school, and the students, alone. Which, with time, appeared to be the case.”

“And Miss Warren did not show up as a ghost until several weeks later,” added Professor Flitwick.

“And no one thought to follow up, just to be sure?” Twilight said incredulously. “Are you all crazy? Doesn’t anyone have any common sense?”

Twilight just stood there and stared at the professors, completely flummoxed at their casual attitude. She could almost believe that they had been bespelled to ignore the beast and the implications of its still being alive and in the castle.

“Let me check something real quick,” she said, “you don’t mind, do you?”

They shook their heads.

She cast a quick spell on the two professors, which came up negative. “Okay,” she said, “You aren’t currently under any compulsion magic to ignore the creature. Nor any other magics, either.”

They looked mildly alarmed at that statement, then relieved at her conclusion.

Did having magic mean humans didn’t have any sort of common-sense?

But Harry did. Although he frequently abandoned it in following the Cutie Mark Crusaders on their bizarre ventures in search of their cutie marks. As she had reprimanded him for doing many times.

“And this student, the one responsible for a murder,” Twilight inquired, “was never punished beyond being expelled?”

“His wand was snapped,” said Flitwick. “He could never do magic again.” He shuddered.

“But, murder? Never punished for an out-right murder? Did he claim it was an accident, that he was remorseful, and then was given leniency by the Ministry?”

The two professors exchanged a guilty look.

“Miss Warren,” Professor McGonagall said slowly, “was a muggle-born witch, and the wizard in question was a half-blood. Headmaster Dippet felt that snapping his wand and expulsion was sufficient. And turning the culprit over to the Ministry for a trial would have cast himself and Hogwarts in a bad light. He declared it a Hogwarts matter, and the case was closed. He treated it as a prank gone horribly wrong. That the student had meant for his monster to merely petrify Miss Warren, not kill her. And, as such, expulsion and snapping his wand were justified and satisfactory punishments.”

Twilight, and the others, just stared at the two professors. Myrtle was nodding.

“And this student admitted his guilt?” Twilight asked quietly.

“No, he vociferously denied that his pet could ever have hurt a student. He said that this was all a misunderstanding. He had kept the creature, he had named it Aragog, in a box in the dungeons. He denied having anything to do with the petrifications. Not that Headmaster Dippet believed him — a highly respected student claimed to have caught the guilty student red-handed. They even gave him an award for doing so.”

She stared at them for a long time. Finally, she shook her head. “Unbelievable. Even a few minutes talking with Myrtle about how she had died would have revealed that whatever had killed her was far too big to fit into a box someone could carry. And it had two eyes, not eight.”

She pressed her lips tightly together, then said, “So this Headmaster Dippet deliberately concealed what had happened and never bothered to see if his conclusions were correct when Myrtle finally appeared as a ghost?”

The professors nodded. “Not that we know of,” Professor McGonagall said.

“And no one had the common sense to check that the Headmaster hadn’t made a mistake, and talked with Myrtle?”

The professors nodded again. “Not that we know of,” Professor McGonagall said, again, after a brief glance at Professor Flitwick.

Twilight stared down at the floor for a few moments.

“And the person who really orchestrated Myrtle’s death got away without punishment.” She faced the two professors, “And having gotten away with it once, how do you know he hasn’t done it again and again, somewhere else?”

She turned to Myrtle, “Could you please show me where you died?”

A few minutes later, the group was gathered in the second-floor girls’ toilets.

“And this is where I died!” Myrtle said dramatically, throwing open the door to her stall. She turned to Twilight, grinning.

Twilight nodded. “So, you were in the stall,” she said, stepping inside and turning to face out. “You heard a boy’s voice speaking a language you didn’t know. Then there was a grinding noise. Upset, you opened the stall door to tell off the boy.” She mimed opening the stall door. She stood staring at the mirror directly across from her. “And you immediately saw two big yellow eyes staring at you, and you died.”

“Yep,” Myrtle said cheerily, “That’s exactly what happened.”

Twilight stared at the mirror. Stared at herself staring back. “That was hissing, like a snake,” she said quietly. “Cockatrices crow, so they are definitely out. And that leaves only basilisks. So,” she turned to the professors, “We are definitely dealing with a basilisk.”

The professors exchanged dismayed looks.

“Hissing? A boy came in hissing like a snake?” Flitwick half-whispered.

“Parseltongue,” said McGonagall. “Only heirs of Slytherin are reputed to be parselmouths.”

“You don’t suppose . . . ,” Flitwick prompted.

“The Chamber of Secrets is real?” finished the other.

The students exchanged puzzled looks, not knowing the implications of what that meant.

The princess walked up to and leaned close over the sink and stared at the mirror, examining its edges. She cautiously lifted her hand and gently pressed it against the glass. Nothing happened. She stood back and started casting spells at the mirror, the sink, walls, floor, everywhere she could reach with a spell.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, and Myrtle and Hermione, stared, wide-eyed at the display of silent wandless magic. The others just watched. Harry tried to follow the magic she was casting, with limited success.

Finally she stopped. “It’s not a portal,” she said decisively, giving Harry a significant look. Apparently her studies of the portal to this world had taught her how to refine her spells regarding portals.

“But something is there. There is an unusual amount of magic surrounding this spot.” She took a deep breath, exhaled, and started walking forward. Everyone except Harry gasped as she walked through the sink and disappeared straight into the wall.

She had done this before, back in Equestria.

Harry sighed. Every time he had tried that spell he had walked into the wall, muzzle first. He just didn’t have the skill, or power, to do that sort of thing yet. Or maybe it was the confidence that he wouldn’t just bash his nose into the wall that he lacked. Maybe he should try closing his eyes first, then he wouldn’t tense up when he reached the wall. But that hadn’t worked, so far. He always seemed to know exactly where the wall was just before he smashed his muzzle into it.

Several places on the wall flashed brightly. Twilight was apparently casting spells inside the wall.

A moment later, she walked back through the wall and mirror beside the first sink, shaking her head. “No,” she mumbled, “the wall is too thin for a secret passage, and there isn’t a portal inside the wall, just pipes and normal plumbing.” She studied the wall and mirror again, before dropping to her knees and looking closely at the sink. “There is magic here, tethered here. It’s not like the magic in the rest of the wall.”

She stood. “Everypony get back,” she said, waving a hand at them.

Harry and the fillies quickly complied, pulling the other two witches with them, and moved all the way to the Girls’ Toilets’ door. The two professors noticed the Equestrians’ caution and followed after then, while they watched Twilight closely.

Twilight took a deep breath, then another. She gritted her teeth and grimaced. She closed her eyes and concentrated. After a moment, dark-purple smoke started leaking from her eyes and pooling around her forehead. The smoky purple clouds extended tendrils that slithered towards the mirror and dipped down to a tap on the sink.

Harry shuddered. Twilight had shown him that magic once, as a warning on what to look out for. It had creeped him out then, as it did now. The two professors were watching with alarmed expressions. What they were seeing was not something they had expected.

Everyone else watched, enthralled at seeing a magic none had ever heard of before, much less seen. The professors exchanged worried looks. Harry suspected that they could feel, as well as see, the unhealthiness of the magic in use.

“That tap never worked, even when I was alive . . . the first time, that is,” said Myrtle brightly, “Don’t know why no one ever fixed it.”

The tendril grew thicker. It wrapped around the tap and then sank into the wall immediately behind it. It grew steadily thicker.

Nothing happened for several minutes until the purple cloud and tendrils simply evaporated.

Twilight staggered a step back. Harry raced forward to grab her arm and help her keep her balance. “That’s always gives me a headache,” was all she said, at first, giving him a weak smile.

She looked at the professors. “The basilisk used the pipes in the castle walls to move around. There is a large chamber far underground, under the school and lake. I imagine that is the basilisk’s lair.” She swept her gaze across the ceiling and walls of the room. “There are many pipes in the walls it has used. The magic in the castle accommodates it.” She narrowed her eyes, thinking. “I think the beast has a reverse form of your undetectable expansion charm on it that allows it to fit in the pipes. It’s mind-boggling that some . . . one actually magicked the entire castle with pipes to allow such a dangerous beast to manoeuvre inside it undetected. And they’ve been there from when the castle was built.” She shook her head, too astonished for words.

She stared at the sink and mirror intently. “And there is something about the magic right here that is different. It’s not bad magic — no hate or fear — just . . . convoluted. Almost like it’s in a different language. I can feel it, but I can’t quite get a grip on it.”

She shook her head and started for the door. “Now that we know where it is, we can deal with it.” She looked both ways as she exited the toilets, then asked, “So, which way is the Headmaster’s office?”

“This way,” Professor Flitwick proclaimed from behind her, and started off.

Twilight had to stop to examine a moving portrait as soon as she noticed the witch in it curtseying as they passed. That took several minutes as the professors explained the magic used in creating the painting, and how the people in them could travel between different frames. Which the painting-witch was happy to demonstrate.

The students, especially Hermione, listened attentively. The answers to their questions about the portraits hadn’t been nearly as detailed.

Twilight was delighted. “Oh, I wonder if this can be done to the Canterlot stained glass tapestries! It would make them so much more interesting!”

Just when Harry thought he might have to say something, she sighed. “But that is for later.” She turned away and they resumed their trip to see the Headmaster.

The next unplanned stop was a suit of armour which bowed as they passed. Then the Central Staircases were the next impediment as the only stairs on their floor slowly moved away and back as they watched, as if showing off.

Finally, they made it to the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore’s office, three-quarters of an hour after starting for it. The gargoyle moved to the side as they approached, and bowed.

The antics of the castle’s magical inhabitants left Professors McGonagall and Flitwick puzzled. It was almost as if the castle itself were showing off for this mysterious Princess Sparkle.

After her explanation of what they had discovered, the Headmaster leaned back in his chair and sagely said, “Ah, yes. That makes sense.” He stared over their heads for a moment. “Salazar Slytherin was one of the four founders, a thousand years ago, you know,” he said in a conversational tone. “It has always been rumoured that he had a secret chamber somewhere in the castle — the Chamber of Secrets, people have called it. Supposedly, he had secreted a monster of some type in the chamber as a protection for the school against those who would bring harm to the students in residence. A last-ditch protector, you might say.”

He looked over at Twilight. “Even back then there was some hostility against wizards and witches. It happened more than once, during those early days, that a muggle-born student would attend the school. After their first term she or he would then betray its location to their religious leaders in a vain attempt to seek favour for their family. They hoped that in revealing a hidden nest of ‘vile sinners and devil worshipers,’ as wizards and witches were termed by the Christians, that they would be rewarded.” He shook his head sadly. “Usually, they were killed, instead, and then the leaders would assemble a small army and march here. There were some nasty attacks in the centuries before we developed the muggle-repelling charms that made it impossible for them to find us.”

He looked around the room. “That’s why Hogwarts was built as a castle, to resist those attacks and to provide temporary quarters for wizard families needing sanctuary during especially difficult and troubled times.

“As a result of those experiences, Salazar was deeply mistrustful of muggle-born, declaring them unfit to attend the school. He wanted to restrict access to only pure-blood and half-blood children. He reasoned that if the muggle-born survived to marry, that their children would be unlikely to turn against the school if they knew their father or mother, or both, would be punished for not previously confessing their ‘sin’ of possessing magic. And they would face the very real possibility that their entire family would be executed by the muggles — if the officials didn’t believe their faithfulness, and they couldn’t escape.” He thought a moment.

“He is rumoured to have built a secret chamber somewhere in the castle. A chamber which was his office and also contained a dread monster that would come out to defend Hogwarts when it was needed the most.”

He sighed. “I spent many a year searching for the chamber myself, as did almost every Headmaster and Slytherin student since the Founders’ days.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “No one ever found it and so it was considered merely a legend, a myth. No wonder we never found it — it was never in the castle, but beneath it!”

He smiled ruefully at Twilight. “Alas, even knowing where it is, now, however, does us no good. We cannot get to it. There are no passages we can find directly with magic, nor any we can scry — for scrying has been used in the past to search for it.” He shook his head sadly. “Salazar did a marvellous job of hiding his Chamber from detection.”

Twilight stared at him, then she said, half under her breath as she looked out the window, “I know I’m going to regret saying this.” She shook her head and turned to face the old wizard. She put her hands on her hips and half-yelled, “ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

Everyone except the Headmaster jumped in response.

“I assure you, Princess, there really is no way to get to Slytherin’s Chamber without expending a great deal of time and effort,” he said to her in mild reprimand. “And we still might not find it. After all, wizards and witches, some of them quite powerful indeed, have been trying to find it for almost a thousand years. Even knowing its general location doesn’t make it any easier to breach the charms that hide and protect it.”

He sighed. “The beast hasn’t been seen or heard in forty-eight years, it is either asleep or held in stasis. In either case, it is not an immediate threat to us.”

Twilight shook her head in disbelief, and turned to look up at the two phoenixes currently sharing a perch in a corner of the office. They were listening intently.

“Philomena, if you please?”

The two phoenixes turned to each other and a short “conversation” erupted. When it stopped, Fawkes shook his head and flew up into the air and then glided down towards Dumbledore. Dumbledore raised his arm, after a questioning look at Twilight.

The moment the bird landed on his arm, there was bright burst of light and the two disappeared.

She stared at the empty chair. “If he doesn’t know that phoenixes can go almost anywhere that isn’t specifically shielded against them, then he’s an idiot, or lying to us. Or senile.”

Twilight turned to the two surprised professors. “Is everyone in the wizarding world here like him? Ignoring the facts in front of them for some nebulous ‘ideal’ of what things should be like? Regardless of what is really in front of them?” She frowned darkly. “Or does he simply lack any sort of common sense?” She studied the two professors for a moment. “Or is it that all wizards lack common sense?”

She glanced at the six students.

“Three times today he’s assured me something was true when it clearly wasn’t.” She looked back at the empty chair behind the desk. “He assured me Hogwarts was safe, yet he has a cerberus in a room easily accessible by children, a room he even told them about. He assured me that the children would obey his vague warning, yet dozens of them have already been to see the cerberus in the last week, with more planning to see for themselves.”

She started pacing. “He should know better, he’s spent decades running this school. Anyone with common sense would know that children will always investigate what you tell them to avoid. And just now he assured me that there was no way to access this supposed Chamber of Secrets when it was clearly, demonstrably, easy for a phoenix to find.”

Harry and the girls listened avidly.

She glanced at the two professors, still pacing. “Based on what I’ve read in your history books, he isn’t stupid. And he successfully led a group of wizards opposing those seeking to overthrow the Ministry ten years ago, so he can’t be incompetent. So why didn’t he question Myrtle? Did he just blindly accept what the previous Headmaster had told him?”

She shook her head, again. “And to say it is not worth the expense or time to search out its lair when it could, in a matter of minutes, wipe out an entire generation of children?” She looked back at the professors. “Is an entire generation of children not worth the expense or effort? If Princess Celestia were here, she’d tear apart the castle looking for the Basilisk. She’d sift through the entire valley with a sieve if she had to.

“Not to mention why he has something stored in a school that requires a cerberus as a guard.”

The two professors exchanged a guilty look.

She narrowed her eyes. “In every case, he has been shown to be incompetent or wilfully neglectful to his duties as Headmaster. Based on what I’ve seen, he needs to be replaced. But that is something I cannot do.”

“Well,” Professor McGonagall said, still looking a bit guilty. “In his defence, I have to say none of us, the professors, I mean, ever thought to suggest that he ask Fawkes to find the Chamber.” She glanced at Professor Flitwick. “And it’s not like we didn’t know about Miss Warren’s unfortunate incident forty-eight years ago. That was the only time the school had ever been scheduled to close prematurely.”

“And when Minerva and I were hired,” put in Flitwick, “we were assured by Headmaster Dippet that the creature responsible had escaped into the Forbidden Forest, never to be seen again, and the student responsible for it expelled. We were not provided the details. And I, for one, never suspected that Myrtle’s death was anything but accidental. I certainly never suspected that a basilisk, or even a cockatrice was responsible for her death. Not with the petrifications. And no one has ever heard of a basilisk merely petrifying its prey.”

Twilight gave him a puzzled look. “That’s what they do where I come from. You are only killed if the creature itself is killed, or someone breaks the statue you become.”

Myrtle shrugged. Now that she was alive, the “incident” didn’t seem nearly as terrible as it had been for the last forty-eight years, two months, and twenty-five days.

Twilight sighed and looked around the room. “I believe it is time for a competent pony to examine this castle, top to bottom.” She transformed into her alicorn self. And started casting powerful spells as the professors and students watched.

۸- ̰ -۸

Author's Note

* italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, by J. K. Rowling

60 — A Knut for Your Thoughts

There was a bright flash of light and a phoenix’s trill. Dumbledore stood beside his desk, wand in hand, and blinking at the brighter light in his office. Fawkes flew back over to his perch where Philomena greeted him with a soft trill.

Albus looked at his wand, said, “nox,” and moved over to sit in his desk chair. He slumped, head on his hand and elbow on the desk, thinking deeply.

Twilight stopped her spell casting and turned to look at him. “Well, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore . . . ,”

He looked up at her voice, then down to see she was in pony form.

“. . . Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . . ,”

At first, he was puzzled at why she wasn’t in human form. And why she was reciting all his titles.

“. . . do you still think it is not possible to find Salazar Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets without a great deal of time and effort?” she said sarcastically.

She didn’t wait for his response.

“Clearly,” she continued, “you aren’t as clever as you think you are if you haven’t thought of asking your friend, Fawkes, to assist you in finding this ‘lost’ chamber.” She tilted her head, “And you’ve been looking for this Chamber for how many decades?”

Dumbledore flushed with embarrassment, and his eyes were most assuredly not twinkling.

“According to Hogwarts: A History, you are the first Headmaster to have a Phoenix as a familiar. So, at least, the previous Headmasters and searchers had an excuse for not finding it.” She paused a beat.

He saw that Professor McGonagall was about to blow up at Twilight. Her face had turned red in colour and her lips were pressed tightly together.

“Because Fawkes did not return you as a statue,” Twilight continued, “can I assume that the basilisk is gone? Or is it still there and just sleeping?”

Dumbledore sighed tiredly. “The basilisk is still there, sleeping.” He rubbed his forehead with one hand, thinking.

It appeared he had made a series of errors a long time ago. He knew he had searched thoroughly for the Chamber of Secrets, both during his tenure as a student in the 1890’s, and then as a professor starting in the 1900’s. So, when he made the acquaintance of Fawkes in 1938, he had never thought to use the phoenix’s special talents in the endeavour. Like house-elves, they could go anywhere.

His eyes widened in shock. Did the house-elves know about the Chamber but no one had ever asked them? Or had Salazar specifically spelled the Chamber to be inaccessible to them? He shuddered to think that finding the Chamber could have been as easy as asking a house-elf if they could go there!

Unfortunately, most wizards and witches considered house-elves to be little more than furniture, and gave them about as much thought. He knew they seriously underestimated what house-elves were truly capable of doing. And, it appeared, so had he.

In any case, when Headmaster Dippet had retired, he had made a thorough search with the castle’s enchantments, to no avail.

“I did not approach the creature as it is behind a door in the main chamber.” He paused and stared out the window a moment. “Fascinating, just fascinating. Who knows what treasures of knowledge are hidden down there?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “What do you intend to do?”

He turned and looked at her, his eyes twinkling, “Nothing at the moment. Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus, never tickle a sleeping dragon. Or basilisk, in this case. With Fawkes’ assistance, I shall explore the Chamber and place a few alert charms on the exits and serpent. Then we can set up a plan to deal with the basilisk at our leisure. Perhaps next summer hols when the school is empty.” He smiled at them.

Twilight rolled her eyes again. “And if it should wake in the meantime?”

“I’m sure we will be able to handle it.”

She stared at him. “It can freely move in the walls of the castle where you can’t reach it. Because it was put in place by a founder, I assume none of the castle defences will stop it — I am sure that Headmaster Dippet attempted to find the creature with Hogwarts’ enchantments, but failed. I doubt you will do better. So, just how will you handle it? Without endangering the lives of an entire generation of wizards and witches?”

He looked back at her. “We are not entirely defenceless.”

“Based on what happened to Myrtle Warren and the other victims from that time, and how helpless Headmaster Dippet was in doing anything, I would say you are.”

They stared at each other. Finally, he said, “What would you have me do? I haven’t the wizards to attack such a creature in its lair without great loss of life. It will take time to arrange such an expedition and plan how to keep everyone safe. Leaving it be while we organize and can lure it into the open is our only option.”

Twilight shook her head. “You could simply say that something dangerous has been discovered in the castle and order all the children home for two days, starting tomorrow morning. Make the announcement at breakfast. As soon as they are gone, I and my friends will deal with the basilisk. When we are finished with the basilisk, we can deal with the other hateful artefacts I’ve discovered in the school, and the children can return to a truly safe castle the day after.”

His eyebrows rose in incredulity. “You will deal with the basilisk?” Everyone was staring at Twilight in disbelief except Harry and the fillies, who were nodding. Myrtle was watching and listening carefully. She had, after all, been told she could stay with these people at the next hols.

The Princess smiled confidently. “We’ve dealt with monsters that make a basilisk look like a garden snake. I fought to a stand-still a two-hundred-foot tall magic-stealing centaur, who had more magic than all the wizards in England. Handling a sixty-foot long basilisk won’t be that difficult.”

The Headmaster blinked. He wasn’t sure if he could believe what she had just said. If he did, then perhaps Ollivander had been correct in his assessment of her. But that was impossible. Nobody could be that powerful. She had to be exaggerating. But even if she was wildly exaggerating, that still meant she had quite a bit of power.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. For the OWL and NEWT students the upset in their class schedules and losing four days, two of which would be traveling, would set them back terribly in their studies. Plus, it would be a tremendous blow to people’s confidence for the safety of their children at Hogwarts, not to mention its reputation. And the ministry would be livid if I allowed foreigners to tackle this problem instead of informing them.”

Twilight stared at him for several moments, then sighed and shrugged. “Okay.” She turned to Harry and the fillies. “Get your things, we’re leaving. Princess Celestia would have my tail if I left you here with a basilisk loose and no adequate protection.” She turned back to the Headmaster. “Perhaps we’ll return next year when you can prove that the school is safe.” She started for the door, the students slowly turning to follow, stunned at what they had just heard.

Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were pulling Myrtle along by her hands.

۸- ̰ -۸

Harry saw that Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had expressions of surprise and horror. Whether that was because Twilight so readily ignored the Headmaster’s recommendation for putting off dealing with the basilisk, or that she was withdrawing them from the school, he wasn’t sure.

The three Cutie Mark Crusaders were looking a bit surprised, as well. On the one hoof, this school was soo different from what they had expected — it was far more fun than the school back home, even with all the coursework. On the other, a basilisk was sleeping below the school and could awaken at any moment.

This was not like the Everfree Forest where danger lurked, but you never knew what was there and being alert was the key to survival. And you could easily spot, hear, or sniff out the large and dangerous monsters. Staying at Hogwarts would be like tip-hoofing around a sleeping manticore that was right beside you — you didn’t have to be careless for it to wake and eat you. Running, far and fast, was the best solution.

The Headmaster looked baffled at the turn of events. He clearly hadn’t expected Twilight to make such a decision. He was far more used to others just agreeing with him, it appeared, and trusting him to make sure everything turned out the way it was supposed to.

It gave him a feeling of satisfaction at seeing the old wizard taken to task on his failings. And to know that Twilight cared for him, unlike any of the witless wizards or useless muggles. Hermione excepted, of course.

“Please, Princess Sparkle,” Dumbledore said, “Let’s not be hasty.”

She stopped and looked at him. “Hasty? I’m not being hasty. There’s an extremely dangerous basilisk under the school that could awaken and attack at any moment — you cannot offer any guarantees that it won’t. It can freely move throughout the castle and you can neither detect nor prevent it from appearing anywhere it chooses through the pipes built into all the walls by a Founder. It has already shown it can and will kill students.” She glanced significantly at Myrtle.

“Even with your ‘alerts’ it could still reach the castle and wreak havoc before you could remove all the students to safety. So, because you refuse to deal with the monster until next summer, it is only prudent to remove my charges from this school until the danger has been eliminated. That’s only common sense.”

The Headmaster looked at her, clearly thinking. “Perhaps, if we can come to an agreement on how to move forward that doesn’t require disrupting the school quite so much, you would reconsider?”

She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Such as?”

“You are positive you can deal with a basilisk of this size?”

She nodded firmly.

He stared at her, stroking his beard and thinking. “And that you can gather sufficient forces to prevent the monster from escaping while you kill it?”

She stiffened slightly when he said “kill.”

“We can easily contain the basilisk and move it somewhere where it cannot harm anyone. We shall not need to kill it, not unless it is an uncontrollable predator, or unreasonable,” she said.

He studied her carefully, his eyebrows arched at her response. He glanced at Harry and the Atlantean girls, taking in their lack of surprise at her assertions that she could handle the situation.

From the letter Princess Celestia had sent to the Headmaster, Harry knew that he knew they had seen Twilight in action against powerful creatures. And that they utterly believed her capable of handling Slytherin’s monster was based on experience. It was probably quite unsettling to him.

And, knowing the old fart, he probably thought he could handle the creature himself. Or rather, that he certainly could handle it with the Equestrians for backup. Or snake food to distract the beast. Of course, it could be that Stumbledore was finally learning that he wasn’t as perfect as he had thought. Harry snorted softly, yeah, right. Like that would ever happen.

Speaking slowly as he obviously put his thoughts into words, Dumbledore said, “We could say that we have discovered what we believe is the legendary Chamber of Secrets, and that we are going to open it.” He paused, then continued, “But in the interests of safety, in deference to the rumours that there is some sort of monster ensorcelled in it, we are declaring a ‘Hogsmeade Holiday’ for all students so that the castle will be empty while we examine the Chamber.”

Twilight slowly nodded.

“Afterwards, we can tell the Ministry that the evacuation was merely a precaution while I and a few select professors explored the Chamber.” He smiled wryly. “They will be most upset at not being present, but Hogwarts is independent from the Ministry and they currently have no authority to trespass on the grounds without invitation. And once the students have left the grounds, we can set the protection charms to keep everyone out until we are finished.

“That we are confronting a basilisk isn’t something they need to know. Nor that you loaned us your assistance. As far as they will be concerned, it was just a case of me being overly-cautious in exploring the Chamber.”

“And who will guard the students while we are dealing with the basilisk?”

“I will take Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Snape with us, and assign the remaining professors to guard the children.”

“With all due respect, we don’t need the other professors with us in the Chamber.” She glanced apologetically at the two standing beside the Headmasters desk. “The girls and I will easily handle the basilisk.”

“Hm. Yes,” Dumbledore said. “However, not taking any professors with me would raise questions you might not want asked.” He was obviously playing on their desire not to let everyone know, just yet, their true origins. “It would certainly draw more scrutiny to where you come from.”

Harry almost giggled at that thought. If the Headmaster knew they came from another world entirely and not mythical Atlantis, the old wizard would probably faint in shock.

Twilight pursed her lips and nodded. “Shall we meet you tomorrow morning before breakfast?”

“Saturday?” countered the Headmaster.

Twilight shook her head firmly. “I will not gamble with the lives of children. Even waiting until tomorrow is stretching my patience. Only the fact that I have to inform the Princesses of what I am doing and gather my friends is making me wait until tomorrow. If the basilisk were awake and moving, I’d have them here in minutes with Philomena’s help.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Tomorrow,” he capitulated. “Minerva will instruct the Prefects tonight to have all students attend breakfast at eight. I will inform the professors just before then, and then the rest of the school during it. The school should be empty by nine, at the latest.”

Twilight nodded. “Excellent. I will get the girls together and meet you here in your office at seven so we can discuss strategies. I’ll do a little research tonight on spells effective against a basilisk.” She started to turn to leave, but then turned back. “It’s possible that either Princess Celestia or Luna might accompany us. Just so you know.”

The Headmaster raised his eyebrows and nodded, eyes sparkling. “I’ll be sure to be prepared.” He looked at the six students, “Do not discuss anything regarding the basilisk or our plans with your classmates — it could cause a panic. And someone might inform their parents, which could lead to the Ministry interfering tomorrow and causing difficulties.”

They all nodded.

He took two pieces of paper out of a drawer and quickly wrote something.

“And here are curfew passes, as it is past time for that for First Years,” he said handing the Gryffindors one and the other to Myrtle. He looked up at the two professors. “We have a late night ahead, I fear.” They both nodded and settled back into their chairs.

As they left the room, Harry heard, “Skiffy? Would you tell Severus to come to my office as soon as he can?”

On their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Twilight said, “That was very odd.”

Harry nodded. He had to agree. The fillies were frowning as well. Why did he have the feeling that he was somehow involved in the old fart's decision?

“He really planned on waiting until summer. Yet, when I said we were leaving, he immediately changed his mind. I wonder why that is?” She looked at the five students inquiringly.

They all shrugged.

“Maybe he just really thinks having us here is important,” Sweetie Belle tentatively suggested. “We are the only foreign students in the school.”

۸- ̬ -۸

The Headmaster walked into his office to find a hot cup of tea on his desk, with several fruit slices on a plate beside it. He smiled appreciatively, “Thank you, Skiffy,” he said settling down behind his desk to wait for his visitors. It would be a most informative day. He would be able to see for himself just how powerful these witches were. And meeting one of their rulers would be very enlightening, too. If one chose to come, that is.

“Skiffy?” he said, after sitting and taking a sip of his tea.

“Skiffy be here,” answered the little house-elf, appearing in front of his desk.

Dumbledore couldn’t help but smile at the little creature’s enthusiasm. “Are all the house-elves prepared to evacuate as soon as the students leave?”

The house-elf frowned unhappily, “Yes, Master Dumbles. But we’s thinks we’s should be heres to help!”

“The basilisk is far too dangerous for any of you to be of assistance. Many of you might die, and I can’t have that happen.”

Tears appeared at the corners of Skiffy’s eyes, “Youse cares so much for us’es!” he declared with a hitch in his voice.

“And why wouldn’t I?” asked Dumbledore rhetorically, “You are all vital to the smooth running of the Castle.”

Skiffy wiped his eyes, “Youse is too kind,” he said, “Yes, youse is.”

There was flare of green flames from the floo, and Princess Twilight’s voce came from it, “Headmaster Dumbledore? May we come through?”

Skiffy disappeared

Moments later, the Headmaster was staring at the assortment of people in his office. Six he had met at The Leaky Cauldron, but the other two were new to him. And, for the first time, he met an Atlantean wizard.

Albus would have spent more time examining this wizard if it were not for the striking witch that preceded him. She was tall, easily eight feet, with a flawlessly proportioned generous figure in a form-fitting dress that would, in no way, hamper her movements.

Her hair was a range of colours, from deep midnight-blue to a dark cornflower-blue, colours the dress complimented perfectly. Interestingly, her hair seemed to shimmer as bright-white points winked from within, almost like stars winking in the night sky. That would have been captivating in and of itself, but her hair seemed to float around her head and body as if in a light breeze that no one else could feel.

She had a regal bearing, but the way she rapidly took in his office had all the marks of a seasoned duellist. Her bare-armed musculature helped with that impression.

She made no attempt to hide her magic as it flowed into and around his office. He didn’t need his glasses to see her magic. Reflexively, he released the hold he had on his magic. He had learned long ago that if he didn’t keep a rein on his magic, he tended to scare the students. And attract unwanted attention from older witches.

In here, right now, his magic was barely noticeable, but at least it pushed the foreign witch’s magic back a bit and gave him room to relax. She would not be using her magic to subtly influence him. The crown on her head, however, did exert a subtle influence by its mere presence, reminding him of the political clout the wearer had available in her homeland. If he wanted to see more students from Atlantis coming to Hogwarts, he would need her support.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” Princess Sparkle said, bowing to each in turn, “This is Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbldore; Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, this is Her Eternal Majesty, Princess Luna, Mistress of the Stars and Moon, Bringer of the Night, Guardian of Dreams and Destroyer of Nightmares, Bane of Evil, Defender and Grand General of the Realm, Monarch of the Unicorn Tribe, Councillor of the Earth Tribe, Commander of the Pegasi Tribe, Matriarch of the Night Tribe, and, with Her Sister, Co-ruler of Equestria and Their other Realms and Territories.”

Dumbledore stood up and bowed to the powerful witch. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

She nodded to him regally, “We are pleased to meet the Headmaster of this school.” She then resumed her inspection of his office — except he had the uncomfortable feeling she wasn’t stopping at the walls. “’Tis a most interesting school, too.”

Princess Twilight continued, “And this is Prince Shining Armor, co-ruler of the Crystal Empire.” She grinned happily, “And my brother.” She looked at him proudly.

He could barely drag his eyes from the Amazonian figure before him to the rather non-descript, by comparison, wizard at her side. The wizard was of slightly above-average height, compared to the Atlantean witches, handsome, and his hair colour was sky-blue, with wide stripes of dark-blue and an even darker blue. He had muscles like Dumbledore had never seen before — they were well defined and clearly marked him as a soldier who took his business seriously. If not for Princess Luna, he would have dominated the room with his presence. The witches, and a few wizards, would be on him like bees on pollen as soon as they saw him.

It was only then that he realized the prince, and the princess, had a sword in a sheath on their backs, the pommels nearly hidden in their hair. Similarly, he now realized, so did Princess Sparkle and Rarity. He was momentarily nonplussed, were they really considering taking the basilisk on with mere swords? And Princess Sparkle was also carrying a soft briefcase, which he found very odd. What could she possibly have in it that would assist them?

Dumbledore nodded to the wizard, noting he didn’t offer to shake hands. “And I’m pleased to meet you, your Highness.”

The wizard gave him a small smile. “Just Shining will do. Like Twilight, I’m not very big on titles and formality.”

The Headmaster nodded again, “Thank you. You may call me Albus.” He glanced up at the tall princess, who was watching with him with her blue-green eyes. He smiled up at her, “And it would be an honour for you to call me Albus, your Majesty,” he looked over at the Twilight, “Princess Sparkle.”

They both smiled back at him, nodding.

“Shiny will be maintaining the shield protecting us while we discuss things with the basilisk,” Princess Sparkle explained. Shining Armour rolled his eyes at her affectionate nickname for him. “Well, Fluttershy will discuss things with the basilisk.” She continued, “We will back her up.”

Dumbledore had to look carefully before he finally located the shy pink-haired witch hiding behind Miss Applejack. He had to admit to himself that he found it highly unlikely that the witch could converse with any creature without fainting, much less a monster of the proportions they expected to find in the Chamber of Secrets. But he carefully kept his doubts to himself and out of his expression.

As he looked over the people in his office, he realized that all of his visitors had striking hair colours, and they all had hair that reached most of the way to their waists. Prince Armour’s hair, while not nearly as long as the witches, was still long enough to make any pure-blood wizard proud, and the rest of them envious. Their clothes were all carefully tailored for perfect fits, with oversized-gems for buttons — and each gem would take a significant portion of his yearly salary as Headmaster, if they were real. Which, given what little he had learned from the goblins, they probably were.

The Atlanteans were not reluctant to display their wealth, he realized. And their wild hair-colours must be a trait they had developed after Atlantis had broken off contact with the rest of the world, he concluded.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked.

“We thank thee for thy courtesy, but We have already supped. And Our companions have similarly broken their fast,” said Princess Luna in a refined and regal tone.

“Oh, before we start discussing our plans for the basilisk, Princess Celestia wanted to know what the students would do while they were in Hogsmeade,” Princess Sparkle said. “Because having a huge herd of students wandering around a small village, with nothing to do, could lead some of them into mischief — especially if the villagers are caught unprepared for the onslaught. You might want to send someone over to warn the shopkeepers about the sudden holiday, give them a bit of time to prepare.”

“Yes,” he said, “That is undoubtedly true. However, I’m sure the Prefects and Professors will keep things in hand, and explain to the curious what is happening.”

The princess gave him a disbelieving look, then said, “Well, Princess Celestia suggested that we give each student a stipend for the day . . . a sickle for spending while in the village was suggested as reasonable.”

A large bag floated out of Princess Twilight’s briefcase. “One thousand sickles,” she said.

“That is most generous of you, your Majesties,” he said looking up at Princess Luna, who was staring intently at one of his magical knick-knacks. She turned to look at him and nodded.

“It is a small cost considering the disruption of their studies for the day. You may also tell the village restaurants that lunch may be charged to the Castle, and we will reimburse you,” Princess Sparkle continued. She glanced at Princess Luna. “We believe that these actions will greatly reduce the incentives for mischief. As well as prevent any resentment on the part of the village’s residents on the lack of a warning to the disturbance of what would normally be a quiet day.”

“And reduce the interest any students might have in trying to sneak back to the castle so they can try to spy what we are doing,” Rarity put in dryly.

“But where’s the fun in that?” asked Pinkie from the top of his book case where she was using a telescope as long as she was tall to look out into the forest through the window on the other side of the room. The Atlanteans all just stared at her a moment.

He wondered how she had managed to climb up there without disrupting any of his trinkets or dislodging any of his books. Did she have a pegasus animagus? And had transformed and flown up there while he was distracted? And from where had she acquired that telescope?

“I will make sure these are distributed to the students at breakfast,” he said, eyes twinkling as he again looked at the bag on his desk. He would have the house-elves distribute the sickles. Once breakfast was under way, he could have a dozen or so house-elves pop over to Hogsmeade to advise the shopkeepers of the oncoming horde. And, he would ask the house-elves if, perhaps, they wanted to help the shopkeepers and other citizens for the rest of the day. After breakfast was completed, of course. He was sure they would be delighted at the prospect of working at something new for a change. And he knew the residents would appreciate the assistance. Yes, this could be a solid boost to the relationship between the school and the village. A magnificent start to the school season for everyone.

“I took the liberty of putting my memory of my time yesterday in the Chamber into this pensieve,” he said, and pointed to the large stone bowl near the edge of his desk. “Simply dip your face into the pensieve, like so,” he demonstrated. He stood back up a moment later, “And it puts you right in the memory where you can see and hear exactly what I saw and heard. Naturally, you cannot interact with anything in the memory, but it is useful, nonetheless.”

He looked up at Princess Luna. “Your Majesty?” he said, waving his hand at the bowl.

Hesitantly, she stepped closer, but a sudden cry of “Banzai!” interrupted her and Pinkie Pie dove into the bowl. Twilight sighed deeply, shaking her head. “Allow me, Princess,” she said and leaned over the bowl, disappearing from sight. He blinked, surprised at the turn of event, but then looked at the others and smiled. “Just follow us in when you’re ready.”

۸- ̫ -۸

Author's Note

One Galleon is equal to 17 Sickles or 493 Knuts.
One Sickle is worth 29 knuts.
One Galleon equals ~ £200.00, or $408.00, or 295.20 Euros
One Sickle equals ~ £ 11.77, or $ 23.69, or 17.37 Euros
One Knut equals ~ £ 0.40, or $ 0.81, or 0.59 Euros
(Gold-to-Pound rates are given at the approximate ratios prevalent in 1991)

۸- ̫ -۸

And thanks to CrimsonPlays and Ecuos Oinocernos for some of Luna’s titles.

61 — A Hunting We Shall Go . . .

Castor hurried into Sir Walker’s office, nodding to James Wootton at his desk as he passed him.

The head of MI5 was looking at documents on his desk as Caster came to a halt, the door closing behind him. “Sir,” he started without preamble, “Princess Twilight has cancelled all appointments and meetings for the day. She called me at six-thirty and said something important has come up. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to keep the appointments for tomorrow, either. She said that due to circumstances, she was unable to explain further.

“This is unlike her, and I thought you should know.”

Sir Walker sighed and looked at his desktop. He picked up a photo and silently handed it to Castor.

It was long-shot surveillance photo. It showed the Main Six, as he and the others had started calling them, crossing the street in front of Eleven Magnolia Road. From the shadow-lengths, it was early morning not too long before she had rung him up. With them were six men he immediately categorized as guards from the way they boxed the others in their formation. That and the long swords they clearly had sheathed over their backs. This was the first sign he had seen of the Equestrians carrying weapons on this side of the portal.

Also in the picture was Ambassador Blueblood. The other two he didn’t recognize, but were very distinctive. The woman was tall, literally head and shoulders over the others, with dark flowing hair. The man was as tall as Twilight, but with long, multi-hued blue hair. They, too, had swords sheathed on their backs, as did Twilight. The woman had a broad smile and seemed excited. The others looked grim.

Considering they were ponies on the other side, the placement of the swords seemed logical.

He shook his head. “I don’t recognize any of the new ponies.” He stared at it a moment longer. “But the woman is clearly one of the Princesses, based on her crown. Princess Celestia has light coloured hair, so unless she used a dye or something else I would guess that this is Princess Luna.”

Sir Walker nodded. “That was taken at six-fifteen this morning. They haven’t emerged from the house. The front curtains are open and they were seen going into one of their trunks shortly before seven.

“Something is up. We’ve alerted the military and have a Lynx helicopter squadron with engines running and combat crews on the flight-line. Two other squadrons are on alert. Maximum ETA is three minutes for a strike, or five for a landing. We also put three Harriers on station ten kilometres out with an ETA of 45-seconds.”

He looked up at Castor and held out his hand for the photo. “Ambassador Blueblood is in his office. Perhaps you could ask him if this,” he tapped the photo with a finger, “is something we should be worried about.”

۸- ̰ -۸

They were all gathered around him in the darkened room that was the Chamber of Secrets. The only signs they were not in the Chamber itself were the statue-like versions of himself and Fawkes off to one side of them and the complete lack of any sounds or movements.

“And here we are,” Dumbledore said.

They stood in a small group around the memory Headmaster, the Phoenix still on his arm, but in the process of taking off. The Headmaster had his wand in his other hand and the tip was just starting to glow. Neither the bird nor the Headmaster were moving. “As you can see there is some light in the Chamber,” Dumbledore said, “But I felt more would be required.” He looked around at them. “To make the memory go onward, simply say ‘forward.’ To stop it, say ‘stop.’ To go back, say ‘reverse.’” The memory around them followed his instructions, coming to a stop when it couldn’t go any further backwards. “When you are ready to leave, say ‘exit.’” His empty office appeared around him. He ducked his head down into the pensieve again. “Nothing in here can harm you, nor can you affect anything,” he continued explaining to the Atlanteans.

“What. A. Dump,” he heard Miss Dash say.

“Dash!” came the quick reprimand from Princess Sparkle, looking scandalized.

“Well, it is,” protested the rainbow-haired witch. “It looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in, like, a thousand years!” She made a disgusted face as she lifted one foot up.

Dumbledore looked at her and wondered if she was making a joke or being serious. It was difficult to tell.

Pinkie Pie, in the meantime, was making a game of walking through the memory Headmaster and trying to make him move. The others were examining the room.

He shook his head at Miss Pie’s strange antics. Most wizards and witches were too afraid, at first, to try to physically interact with the people in a memory. “This is the main Chamber, the snake is behind a door in the statue’s mouth.” He pointed it out. “This way, you may familiarize yourselves with the Chamber’s layout so you aren’t caught unawares when we go in there. I will go now to inform the Professors, and then the students, of today’s ‘holiday.’” He smiled at them as he said, “Exit.”

Almost as soon as he was out, the one called Rainbow Dash joined him. “That’s kinda freaky, ya know?”

“Don’t you wish to examine the Chamber?”

“Nah, not just yet. We’ll take turns, keep one of us out in case something comes up and you need us out of that thing early.”

He nodded. A sensible plan. “Then I will see you in about an hour and a half.” He used his wand to lift the sack of coins, turned, and left his office. The house-elves had told the staff to meet him at the staff-room. He had just enough time to reach it before the professors would begin to show up. He leisurely walked down the corridor — no staff-meeting ever started on time, after all. “Skiffy,” he said.

“Skiffy is here, Master Dumbles,” came the quick response.

He gave the house-elf his instructions, and the coins.

۸-_-۸

The tapping of Dumbledore’s knife against the golden goblet at his place setting half-way through breakfast drew Harry’s, and everyone else’s, attention to the standing Headmaster. “Good morning to you all, I hope you’re enjoying this morning’s repast.” He beamed broadly at them.

Harry couldn’t help but notice that the expressions on the Professors at the Head Table were decidedly mixed. Many looked excited, several looked scared. Professor Quirrell somehow managed to alternate between scared, disappointed, and angry.

“I have an important announcement to make. Thanks to the activities of some students,” he did not look at the Gryffindor First Years, but nearly everyone else in the room did, “I believe we have discovered the entrance to Salazar Slytherin’s fabled Chamber of Secrets.”

The hall erupted into excited chatter among the half- and pure-blood students, except the Slytherins, who all just gasped and stared. There was more than a little speculation that the “princess” from yesterday had been involved. The timing was just too good to be a coincidence.

Harry, Hermione, Myrtle, and the fillies just grinned at their friends’ astonished and or puzzled expressions. And high-fived each other. This did not go unnoticed among the other students.

Dumbledore tapped the goblet again to get their attention.

“If this is true, then this is a most momentous moment in Hogwarts’ history, the opening of a chamber untouched since the Founders era.”

Professor Quirrell scowled heavily at that statement.

“And, yes, when we have finished thoroughly exploring the Chamber, we will conduct tours of it for all students.”

Professor Quirrell’s scowl grew darker.

This time the excited chatter was more difficult to bring under control. Harry thought the poor goblet might break before order could be restored.

“However, all the rumours regarding the Chamber say that there is a monster hidden there. If that is so, then to explore the Chamber might awaken the beast and possibly endanger us all.”

Professor Quirrell seemed to be almost pleased at the thought.

There was an excited low chatter among the students at the thought of danger just below their feet.

“It has been suggested that we wait to explore the Chamber until summer.”

There was a disappointed sigh and many exclamations of “oh, no!”

Professor Quirrell returned to scowling

“Alas,” he continued, “doing so leaves the possibility that the beast, if it is there, could awaken at any moment and attack the students, as it has reportedly done in the past.”

This time the Hall was quiet. He smiled confidently at his audience. Most did not know of the events that took place forty-eight years ago. They only knew that Myrtle had died back then in a mysterious accident.

“Rather than wait and hope the beast, if it is there, stays asleep, I and several professors will explore the Chamber today. Naturally, we can’t have you, the students, in the castle while we do this. It would be far too dangerous for all concerned.”

They listened in rapt attention, with many worried glances between the more timid students and a low murmur spread across the Hall.

“Thus it is, you will be delighted to hear, that I am cancelling classes today and declaring it a Hogsmeade holiday for the entire student body.”

This time the Hall erupted into cheers. Rather than tapping the goblet, the Headmaster had to set off a mild cannon blast from his wand to attract their attention.

“I understand that this has caught you all unprepared, and that exploring Hogsmeade without funds would be a disappointment to many, especially our younger students who hadn’t anticipated being allowed to visit Hogsmeade until their third year.”

He smiled at them, eyes twinkling.

“If you will all look under your plates, you will find a sickle.” He had to stop as the outcry at finding an entire sickle sitting under their plates again took over the Hall.

After another cannon blast, he continued, “You may spend this in any manner you desire, you do not have to repay it. In addition, the Hogsmeade eating establishments have been instructed to supply a reasonable lunch to each of you, at no cost. You just have to sign your name on the receipt and Hogwarts will pay for it. If you are in doubt about something you want to order, any of the professors or prefects will be able to assist you.”

The room burst into excited chatter once more.

Professor Quirrell still scowled at the room in general.

Dumbledore tapped the goblet again. As the room still, he gave the students a stern look.

“Do not take advantage of our largesse, this is not an excuse to order extravagant meals. We will review the receipts and anything deemed excessive will be billed to your parents, with the explanation that you deliberately disobeyed instructions. Detentions will be assigned, as well.”

He smiled. “However, you may provide your own funds, or you may use however much of your sickle you desire, to pay any additional charges for items the servers indicate would be over the limit. Or to supplement your order with additional items.”

This was met with silence.

“Breakfast will conclude in fifteen minutes. Prefects and Professors will escort all of you back to your dorms to change into appropriate clothes, and thence to Hogsmeade. Attendance will be taken by the Prefects at the Hogwarts’ gates to make sure no students remain in the school.” This time he was staring at the Weasley twins, who were trying to look innocent. “Anyone in the school after that time will receive a month in detention.” He paused. “With Professor Snape.”

Harry was sure, from their expressions, that most of the students would obey his injunction. The twins, however, still looked like they were plotting how to escape notice. And Professor Snape was giving the students at Slytherin Table a stern look. Any detentions involving them would be especially harsh, seemed to be his message.

The Headmaster sat back down and the Hall erupted into an excited babble, yet again, but at a much higher volume. Most ignored the food remaining on the tables in favour of plotting exactly how they were going to spend their day. Ron, however, while clutching his sickle in one hand, was endeavouring to eat as much as he could in the little time remaining for breakfast.

Myrtle appeared to be matching him bite for bite, but managed not to look like she was imitating a starving pig.

۸- ̫ -۸

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Ambassador,” Castor said as he was escorted into the man’s . . . pony’s? . . . office. Man, because he wasn’t a pony right now.

Blueblood nodded at him with a faint sneer. “It isn’t a problem. My schedule is rather open at the moment. That will change as word gets around, I’m sure.” He didn’t offer Castor a seat. “What seems to be your problem?” he said condescendingly.

“As you know, Princess Sparkle cancelled all her appointments today, a bit suddenly. I was hoping you could tell me if something was wrong. She isn’t sick, is she?”

The prince just stared at him, blinking.

Into the silence, Castor said, “I also heard a rumour that one of your princesses, Princess Luna, might have come through the portal this morning with her.” He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

The ambassador continued to stare at him with a blank expression. Finally he leaned forward, putting his arms and hands on the desktop, and laced his fingers together.

“You should be very careful about listening to rumours, Mr. Searle. Frequently, they are made up, with no basis in fact.”

Castor smiled, “Hence my coming to you. I’m not a diplomat to dance around the questions that need asking.”

The Prince, Castor thought, had a very good poker face.

“Princess Sparkle is in fine health. Something came up which I cannot speak to you about. It shouldn’t take long to resolve.” He leaned back in his chair.

Castor stood and thought a moment. What would require the Princess, possibly one of their rulers, and an armed escort, that didn’t directly involve the British government?

“Would this have anything to do with the hidden wizards that the Prime Minister mentioned when we met Princess Celestia?”

They again engaged in staring at each other.

After another moment, Ambassador Blueblood said, “I really don’t know what you are suggesting. I can assure you, your government need not concern itself with what Princess Twilight Sparkle may or may not be doing today. Nor with whom. Simply put, something came up that required her presence. Nothing more, nothing less.” He leaned forward again. “In fact, some might consider your government becoming involved to be meddling in an affair in which you have no standing. Some people might even take offense at such actions.”

The staring contest started again.

Blueblood leaned back, “As Lady Applejack might say, don’t upset the applecart.”

Castor slowly nodded. “I thank you for taking the time to explain this to me, Ambassador.”

“It was my pleasure,” Blueblood said crisply. “Feel free to come back and ask questions anytime.”

It was as obvious a dismissal as you could get. Castor bowed, “Until we meet again, Ambassador. I hope you have a pleasant day.”

The first real smile came up on Blueblood’s face. “Oh, I shall, I shall indeed.”

As Castor turned to leave, he noticed a Monopoly game-board on a side table by the window. There was already one house on a property, and places set for two players. As he closed the hallway door, exiting the waiting-room/secretary’s office, he could see into the Ambassador’s office through its open door. He saw the Ambassador sitting at the side-table as his secretary took the seat opposite him.

Castor set off to his office to see about an appointment with the Prime Minister. It seemed prudent to voice his suspicions on what the Equestrians were up to. And to prepare an official report while he waited.

۸-_-۸

Forewarned, Harry and the girls had prepared themselves for the day. Hermione, of course, had stuffed nearly all her course books with plenty of paper, quills, and ink into her rucksack. If the opportunity to study came up, she intended to seize it with both hands. Harry and Scootaloo had merely pocketed their shrunken trunks in case they, or the other two fillies, needed anything.

The group relaxed in the common room as the rest of the Gryffindors rushed around in a minor panic. If they forgot anything, they wouldn’t be able to come back and get it part-way through the day.

Percy waited with them, and corralled the twins when they first came down.

“Professor McGonagall,” he said, “has insisted that I, and the two of you, escort the Gryffindor First Years during the day. If you try to sneak off by yourselves, she said, you’ll each serve a week’s detention alternating with Professor Snape and Mr. Filch. That is, on one day, you get Professor Snape,” he pointed at one twin, “while you get Mr. Filch,” he pointed at the other. “And you switch them the next day.” He gave them a smirk, “And if you try to pretend to be the other, she’ll hex one of you orange and the other bright-blue for the rest of the year.” He then grinned “Plus, if you do get in trouble, anyway, the First Years will be right beside you.”

“That’s unfair,” one twin said.

“That’s playing dirty,” said the other.

“Very effective, though.”

“Yes, indeed it is.”

Percy nodded. “Yes, it is.” He stared at them intently. “She especially doesn’t want you sneaking back into the castle. She said, ‘a distraction while we are dealing with Slytherin’s Monster could kill innumerable people. And the twins are a distraction!’”

Harry spoke up, alarmed at the prospect of detentions, “But I bet no one knows Hogsmeade as well as you two, right?”

“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle, “You can show us all the neat places that the other students don’t know about, or avoid.”

“And we have Professor McGonagall’s permission to do it as long as we don’t cause trouble!” concluded Scootaloo.

The twins looked intrigued by Scootaloo’s comment. She was right, after all. McGonagall had only said don’t cause trouble. That left the field wide open for other activities that they hadn’t considered. They grinned widely at each other and began chortling.

Percy lost his confident look and began to look worried. After a month of getting to know the twins, Harry knew he had every reason to be worried.

There was also the complication that, as third years, they shouldn’t know anything about Hogsmeade that their brothers hadn’t told them. They shouldn’t have any personal experience. Yet . . . they seemed to think that they knew more than anyone else.

The twins turned as one, and dashed back up the stairs.

In short order — they were on a schedule — the Gryffindors were assembled in their dorm’s Common Room. A quick check showed that all members were present.

Professor McGonagall had arrived by that time, with Professor Vector, the Arithmancy professor, and she had a few words for them. McGonagall gave them all a severe look and said, “This is an unusual circumstance. Professor Vector will be in charge as I will be assisting the Headmaster. I expect you all to be on your best behaviour.”

She stopped to stare at the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. “Your best behaviour.”

She looked across the rest of the students. “The Hogsmeade residents and storekeepers are not prepared for this impromptu holiday the Headmaster has declared, nor that it will involve the entire student population. Be patient. Be polite. I expect the older students to keep an eye on the younger ones, and to help them if they ask for, or appear to need, help. If you start trouble, there will be detentions and loss of Hogsmeade privileges later this year.

“For the First and Second Year students, this means a loss of Hogsmeade privileges when you reach your Third Year.” She gave them another hard look, and nodded, her expression relaxing a tiny bit. “However, that does not mean you cannot have fun, just don’t get into trouble doing it. Listen to the Professors and Prefects in the village, and you should be just fine. And don’t spend all your knuts at the first shop you visit!”

They were marched out of the castle in a column of fours, with the Prefects as escorts on the sides and back to prevent any stragglers from escaping. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick watched as they left the castle.

They arrived at the Hogwarts’ Gates in time to see the last of the Ravenclaws, supervised by Professor Quirrell because Professor Flitwick was remaining behind, pass through the gates with the Hufflepuffs queued up for their turn. Slytherin was behind the Gryffindors, laughing at their formation, and strolling leisurely, with Professor Sinistra as their supervisor for the day. The Slytherins’ Prefects had given them the warning from their Head of House, and none dared draw his ire this early in the year, especially as he was still upset over Friday’s incident with the Gryffindors. To say he was especially excessive in his punishments was an understatement.

The older Slytherins were keeping a close watch on the First through Third years, however. The younger ones tended not to believe that punishments would be handed out easily. They were wrong. It would be up to the older years to keep them under control. Or their Head of House would have words with them.

Still, after the stern talking-to’s given them, neither the Gryffindors nor the Slytherins wanted to test their Heads of Houses’ patience. At least not today.

Most of the school stopped outside the gates and watched as they closed. It was very odd for the older students to see Mr. Filch on this side of the wall instead of scowling at them from the inside as he usually did. He even was carrying his cat, Mrs. Norris.

No sooner did the gates close than there was a brief flash of light.

Harry was not surprised that he could see a shield now encompassed the entire school. No one would be leaving or entering.

Hagrid gave them a wave, then turned and headed for his hut.

The crowd milled around and slowly started to make their way into Hogsmeade.

۸-_-۸

The Headmaster smiled after he finished casting the Homenum Revelio charm. He looked over at his guests, who were watching him. “There, the only people left in the castle are ourselves and the professors, who should be here shortly.” He waved his wand again, and said, “Monstra domum revelio . . . and the house-elves have also evacuated.”

Twilight looked at him curiously. “You have house-elves here? Those are the bipedal creatures you hold in slavery?”

The Headmaster looked at her sharply, as the others watched in surprise. They hadn’t heard of house-elves previously. The princess was frowning heavily, as were most of the rest. Rainbow Dash appeared especially agitated.

He shook his head. “Not slaves, although some wizards treat them as such.” He sighed. “House-elves are powerful magical creatures who enjoy work for the sake of work. However, they require a source for their magic. The only way they can get that magic is by bonding themselves to a wizard, or a magical place such as Hogwarts which has many wizards living there. If they are deprived of that magical source, they wither away and die, much as a plant dies if you don’t provide it with enough water.” He shook his head sadly.

“It is more of a symbiosis between the wizards and the house-elves. Wizards don’t actually provide the magic, they are merely a conduit for the magic that house-elves need. By accepting a bond with a house-elf, the wizard provides the house-elf with access to the magic they need to survive. By accepting the bond, the house-elves provide their labour to do things for the wizard, work, in exchange for the magic. The house-elves get the magic they need, and work to keep them happy. The wizard profits from the labour provided by the house-elves.”

He stopped and sighed dramatically, “House-elves become extremely attached to their bonders, their masters, and nothing is worse to them than having their bonder discard their services, to cast them out. Not only does this doom them to a gradual and painful death, they see it as a complete failure on their part. They believe that they are no longer worthy of having a master. They believe that no one will ever want them as a house-elf, and they fall into despair. They are more distraught over the loss of their master than the prospect of dying.” He again shook his head sadly. It was really such a waste when things like that happened.

“Some wizards take advantage of that attitude and treat their house-elves quite severely, knowing the creatures won’t resist for fear of being cast out.”

He looked at the princesses serenely, “Hogwarts takes in any house-elves who find themselves without a master, either because their service was terminated or their master died without any near relatives to take over. They bond to Hogwarts itself. The castle has more than enough magic for them to live and grow, with the staff and students as a whole providing the access to the magic they need, as well as plenty of work to keep them happy. You’ll find no house-elves who are mistreated here!” he ended severely.

The princesses exchanged frowning looks, but nodded.

“If you like, after we deal with the basilisk, I can call several of them for you to speak with, to alleviate your worries about their treatment.”

Still clearly unhappy, that, at least, got several of the Atlanteans to nod in agreement.

۸-ꞈ-۸

62 — A Vicious Viper

Further discussions on the subject of house-elves were interrupted by the arrival of Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick. Once introductions were completed, they started on their planning.

Princess Sparkle spoke first. “Princess Luna, Prince Armor, and I will teleport to the chamber and put up a strong shield. Then I will return for the rest of you. Once we are all in the Chamber, and safe behind Shiny’s shield, Fluttershy will fly up to the basilisk’s lair and try to talk the basilisk into coming with us.”

“She’s a parselmouth?” came the Headmaster’s surprised question.

“Parselmouth?” Twilight repeated.

“She can talk with snakes,” supplied Severus dryly.

The Princess shook her head. “Oh, no. One of her talents is to communicate with and understand what non-speaking animals are saying.”

That got her a few disbelieving stares, which she ignored.

“If the monster refuses reasoning, then we will use force to pull it out of its lair.”

Princess Luna smiled broadly, “If it be a battle the monster desires, then a battle it shall receive!” She shimmied in anticipation. The Headmaster had the impression that the princess almost wanted the basilisk to be obstinate.

“I believe I should go with you, Princess Sparkle. I am rather powerful, from what others have told me,” he said, eyes twinkling.

She nodded. “That’s acceptable. Are you ready?” She tilted her head slightly.

Almost before he finished nodding, he found himself in the darkened chamber. It was the smoothest apparition he had ever experienced. And she had moved three other people without any of them even being close to her, much less actually holding on as normal wizards had to do. As a side-along apparition, it put her into a class all her own.

He quickly cast a lumos and lit up the area around them. He watched as Princess Luna transformed into a horse, a large winged horse with a horn. She was clearly almost double the size of Princess Twilight when she was in pony-form. And her crown was just as noticeable. It had somehow managed to remain in place, and even adjust to a new position, during the transformation. She was also wearing an armoured peytral, chanfron, helmet, criniere, croupiere, and metal shoes with guards to cover her legs. Painted onto the petral and croupiere was a symbol of a crescent-moon against a black night sky. She was clearly ready to do battle. And from the dents and scratches on the armour, she had clearly gone to battle in it in the past.

Which was quite a contrast to Princess Sparkle’s lack of anything protective.

And her animagus form was an alicorn. Were equines the default animagus forms for all the Atlanteans? He filed that thought away for study later. In any case, Princess Luna’s black armour made her difficult to see with the limited light in the Chamber. Her dark-purple mane floated around her head as if it were in a mild breeze. Had she, herself, supplied the hair in Harry’s wand?

Her scabbarded sword was across her barrel, tucked under her closed wing.

Simultaneously, a glowing pink shield appeared around them, created by the well-muscled white unicorn with a multi-coloured-blue mane and tail standing where Prince Shining Armour had been. More evidence that all Atlanteans had equines as their animagus. His sword was strapped high up on his side, as well. He, too, wore armour, painted gold and purple. His petral and shorter croupiere bore a purple shield embossed with a pink six-pointed star, with three stars above it. His helmet bore a romanesque crest in shades of blue, like his hair.

Both of them had spears. Luna's under her opposite wing and his was secured to his side with straps on the armour.

The Headmaster had never seen such fit and trim horses.

Twilight shot him a fast grin, “We unicorns find it so much easier to cast magic as ponies.” She transformed as well, into her purple alicorn form he had seen yesterday. She was as fit and trim a pony as the others — and, as he had thought, she was just over half as tall as Princess Luna. Princess Luna, though, had a more horse-like build with thinner and longer legs, with body to match. The other animagi ponies appeared a bit chunky by comparison, and much more adorable and cute. Princess Luna, for a horse, was beautiful.

Now that he could see them all side-by-side, it was clear that Princess Sparkle wasn’t as delicate in appearance as the other Princess, and slightly taller and thinner in the legs than the other ponies.

She turned to her brother, “Okay, start expanding the shield.”

The pink glow slowly receded from them until it met the walls. Then it simply moulded its shape to them. The snake statues lining the Chamber stood in stark relief to the pink-coated walls behind them. He turned to look behind him, and saw the doors to the chamber similarly coated. The princesses, and prince, started a slow walk forward to the other end of the Chamber, the shield expanding in front of them. It was a truly remarkable display of talent and power.

“How long can he keep this up,” Dumbledore asked.

Princess Sparkle kept her eyes on the area in front of them. “He kept a city-wide shield over Canterlot for several days, and held back an attack by several thousand Changelings for almost an hour.”

Dumbledore stopped walking for a moment. Just how powerful was this Prince? He, himself, would be sorely taxed to cast a shield over an entire city. And then to be the only one supporting the shield with over a thousand attacking wizards? He regarded Prince Armor in a new light.

She glanced over at her brother, a proud smile on her face. “Only my brother can cast a shield that big for that long! Most unicorns can hold up a shield for only an hour or less. And against the Changelings, most would have collapsed in a few moments. Shielding, protecting others, is his special talent after all.”

That was a relief. He had been beginning to think that the Atlanteans would simply walk all over the English wizards and witches. It seemed that certain individuals were incredibly powerful, but only in sharply defined disciplines. Otherwise their powers were average. Or maybe above-average compared to English wizards. He hoped that the witches, and wizard, he had met so far were the exceptionally powerful ones.

And he would have to circumspectly inquire about what Changelings were.

Misses Bloom, Belle, and Scootaloo, so far, didn’t seem any more powerful than the other students. A bit faster in their mastering their practicals, maybe. So, perhaps, these eight were the exceptions. He certainly hoped so.

He could only imagine what effect the Atlanteans would have on English wizard families when they began to intermarry.

They had finally reached the end of the Chamber. It was much damper here, with a small channel of water running in front of the tall statue. They stared up at huge wizard with the monkey-like face; it was easily ten yards tall.

Salazar Slytherin certainly hadn’t been humble, nor would he have won any of the Handsomest Wizard contests that appeared in Teen Witch, that was for sure. It was too bad the portrait animating spell hadn’t existed back then, his portrait would have been highly sought after, regardless of the wizard’s physical appearance.

The two Princesses took flight and hovered in front of the mouth of the statue, which was the entrance to the basilisk’s lair.

Princess Luna laughed. Twilight looked at her curiously, “Princess Luna? Is something wrong?”

The larger alicorn smirked at her. “Neigh. Just considering the image of the snake using this as the access to its lair. This Salazar Slytherin was a naughty, naughty colt.”

The Headmaster blinked in surprise as he watched the other princess blush right through her fur.

Yes, it was a rather suggestive image, wasn’t it?

She laughed again, “I suppose we’re lucky he didn’t choose the other end.”

Princess Sparkle was face-palming . . . hoofing, he guessed it should be called.

The two Princesses hovered for a moment, then landed beside him, the larger one still snickering.

“Yes,” Princess Sparkle nodded, “the basilisk is still there. From its breathing, it seems to be deeply asleep.”

She disappeared with a flash of light and the faint sound of bells. Then reappeared almost as quickly, this time with the rest of their party from his office.

Yes, the Headmaster thought, her speciality had to be apparition, to move so many so fast, and still be able to apparate . . . no, teleport . . . with no signs of strain or fatigue.

“My word!” exclaimed Professor McGonagall, startled at the rapid transport, and the fact that the witch who did it had done it as a winged unicorn without needing to touch any of them.

Dash looked around and said, “Yep, just as much a dump in real life as in the memory.”

Princess Sparkle frowned at the rainbow-haired witch before turning and prompting, “Fluttershy?”

With an inaudible sigh, the pink-haired witch turned into a yellow pegasus with a pink mane and tail. She slowly, almost reluctantly, flew up to the mouth of the statue and hovered there.

“. . . .”

Rainbow Dash, now a blue pegasus with a rainbow-coloured mane and tail, flew up beside her friend. They heard her as she said, “Uh, Fluttershy, you’ll have to speak louder than that because the door is closed.”

“-----------”

“Louder than that, Fluttershy,” the other pegasus coaxed.

“Hello Mr. Basilisk! Can we talk?”

“Perhaps I could cast a sonorous on her for you?” suggested Dumbledore.

“That’s a good idea,” said Princess Sparkle. Her horn glowed briefly as she stared up at the yellow pegasus.

“HELLO MR. BASILISK! CAN WE TALK?”

The yellow pegasus apparently startled herself so badly that she was a blur as she hid herself behind Rainbow Dash, as Dash herself winced at the volume.

There was the sound of something stirring, then a hissing.

She slowly moved from behind the blue pegasus.

“NO, MR. BASILISK, I AM NOT A SPEAKER, AS YOU CALL IT, BUT I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK TO YOU.”

Dash was holding her hooves over her ears.

There was more hissing.

“WELL, YOU SEE, THE HEADMASTER OF THE SCHOOL WANTS YOU TO LEAVE HERE. IT’S SO DARK AND COLD. YOU’D BE HAPPIER OUT IN THE FOREST, WOULDN’T YOU?”

The hissing from inside the statue continued.

She turned and looked down at them, “He says the last Speaker, um, commanded him to stay here to, um, clean up the muggle-born filth and their, those, who would help them. To fulfil his destiny, as Master Slytherin had commanded him.” She turned back to the statue. “BUT THE MUGGLE-BORN STUDENTS ARE HERE WITH THE PERMISSION OF THE HEADMASTER AND THE MINISTRY,“AND IT IS WRONG TO HURT PEOPLE WHO HAVEN’T HURT YOU.”

A short hiss.

“PLEASE, MR. BASILISK, THE LAST SPEAKER WAS WRONG TO COMMAND YOU TO DO THAT.”

A longer series of hisses.

She looked down at them. “He says he will protect the school, he will do as commanded. To, um, cleanse the school of those unworthy.” She sighed.

“PLEASE, MR. BASILISK, WE DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU.”

More hissing. Fluttershy started to translate as the basilisk continued to hiss. “He says, he’s had enough talking. We’re obviously here to make him disobey the Speaker, if we don’t leave he will eat us. He hasn’t eaten in a long time and is very hungry.” The mouth of the statue began to open as the hissing grew louder. “He says, leave or die!”

Both Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash darted back from the opening door.

“Huzzah!” cried Princess Luna happily, as she took to the air, again. “It is a battle!” The scabbarded sword and spear he had seen before were now floating on either side of her, as Princess Sparkle’s and Rarity’s swords were floating beside them.

Fluttershy continued her retreat, not stopping until she was all the way back to the Chamber doors. The Atlanteans who had not yet transformed into ponies did so now. From somewhere, Rainbow Dash produced a set of goggles that flashed like mirrors. He noticed similar goggles being floated to everyone else, including himself and the professors. Those had probably been what Princess Sparkle had had in her briefcase in addition to the coins. The Atlanteans quickly put on their goggles, which were designed for their equine forms.

The wizards and witch followed suit as Princess Sparkle said, “These will protect us from the basilisk’s gaze. After my run-in with a cockatrice I did some research and came up with these. They tested out just fine,” she said smugly.

Dumbledore slipped his on and immediately noticed how everything around them changed. Gone were the colours he was used to seeing. Everything appeared in shades of orange.

“They work by converting heat energy into light we can use, and showing that in the goggles in orange. They completely block the light the basilisk uses to turn you to stone or kill you.”

At the top of the Chamber, affixed to the ceiling, a brilliant ball of light appeared. It seemed as if the entire Chamber were sunlit. Dumbledore could feel a warm heat on his exposed skin.

He slipped his goggles down and the Chamber appeared as dark as it had been before. He looked up at the ceiling and saw a large dull-red sphere of some kind. He could feel heat on his face coming from it. He put his goggles back on and marvelled at how well defined everything was in the Chamber. The pink shield, now a faint shimmer over the things not inside it, suddenly retreated from the statue, leaving a space of several yards in front of the shallow-angled magical field that left most of the ceiling uncovered.

Meanwhile, hissing like a steam-engine, the giant basilisk slid out of its lair. It landed on the floor of the Chamber with a tremendous thud that shook the floor and walls and threw water from the water-trough it had partially landed in.

It was, as Princess Twilight had estimated, a giant snake of at least sixty feet in length, perhaps even seventy feet.

The Headmaster couldn’t help but be worried. He had thought Princess Sparkle had been severely over-estimating the size of the beast. He had thought it might be twenty or thirty feet, maybe. He certainly hadn’t expected anything double that length.

Its head was large enough to eat a wizard or witch whole — it was at least a yard and a half wide— what had it been eating to get so large? With its jaw wide-open, as it was at the moment, its mouth was taller than any of them in the Chamber. Dumbledore was pleased to see that it was effectively trapped between the shield being maintained by Prince Armor, who was frowning, and the statue behind it.

He began mentally reviewing his spell repertoire in anticipation that the snake’s hide would be exceedingly thick and extremely resistant to most magics. Even a skilled team of dragon-handlers would find this monster a challenge.

He was distracted from his study of the enormous beast as he heard Princess Luna scream like a banshee. She dove at it, sword and spear extended in front of her, her four hooves angled forward.

۸-_-۸

“And this,” said George, or at least Harry thought it was George, “Is the Shrieking Shack, supposedly the most haunted building in all of England and Scotland.” He bowed with a flourish in front of a house that Harry could only call a dump. The building looked very old and ready to fall down at any moment — none of the walls were exactly straight anymore. They leaned and warped alarmingly.

The windows on the ground floor were all boarded up, and even the door had boards covering it. The first-floor windows had shutters on them, all of which were either closed or boarded over. Broken glass could be seen through the places where a board had come loose and hung down from one end or the other.

The brick walls were weatherworn and shabby, and many had lost most of the cement holding them in place. There were places where roof tiles were missing, and even more that looked as if the next soft breeze would carry them away. Harry wouldn’t trust that roof to keep out a sprinkle of water, much less the harsh rainstorms that drenched Scotland during the fall and spring, as he had heard on the telly from his cupboard. How the building was still standing was a miracle of construction and fate — or maybe magic. But who would waste such magic on such a wreck?

The grounds surrounding the house were wild with weeds and underbrush, with an occasional tree that looked as ancient as the house. And who knew what malign creatures were lurking in the undergrowth? Like the Everfree, just looking at it made you feel as if you were being watched by something unsavoury. Plus, climbing the decrepit fence that divided the yard from the road into the yard would be taking your life in your hands.

Sweetie Belle stared at it and said, “Wait. How is this the most haunted building in Scotland when Hogwarts itself has over a dozen ghosts wandering around?”

Harry and the other Gryffindor Firsties looked at the twins for an explanation.

George rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Well, near as we can figure it out . . .”

“. . . it goes back to about twenty years ago,” finished his brother.

“It seems that the most horrible and terrifying screams and howls were heard . . .”

“. . . coming from this shack every month.”

“You could hear it all the way back at Hogwarts.”

“But no one ever saw anyone ever enter or leave, day or night.”

“And several wizards watched the shack very closely.”

“They didn’t see any lights, but they said it sounded like a werewolf.

“But a werewolf could easily batter his way through the windows or doors.”

“So they concluded it must be the ghost of a werewolf . . .”

“. . . hunting for other ghosts to attack and turn.”

“Some people claim you can still hear the werewolf on occasion . . .”

“. . . and his victims pleading for their lives.”

They both shrugged.

“We’ve never been outside of Hogwarts on full-moon nights,” said Fred.

“So we really don’t know anything else about the stories.”

Harry thought their explanation had been like being in the audience of a tennis match, as he had seen on the telly a couple of time — their heads going back and forth, back and forth. It almost made him dizzy.

The three fillies exchanged looks. Scootaloo leaned close to Sweetie Belle and whispered, “Put it on the list, Sweetie.” Then she transformed and quickly took off.

Harry groaned, drawing the curious attention of several of the others.

Scootaloo flew around the building, peering in through the places where the boards had fallen from the windows, even knocking one or two of the looser ones off the building. Ginny quickly joined her in exploring the abandoned building.

George and Fred laughed.

Fred said, “There’s a spot in the fence where you can wriggle through.”

“If you’re brave enough,” said George.

“We won’t tell you where it is, though.”

“That would be what Percy calls irresponsible, right?” George said glancing at his older brother who was standing nearby and frowning.

“That’s right, brother dear,” said Fred, “we won’t tell them it’s in the back.”

“Or that it’s on the south end of the property . . .”

“. . . about three yards from the corner.”

“Yes, that would be reckless of us, so our lips are sealed!”

The two nodded to each other as Percy fumed. They hadn’t actually done anything wrong for him to object to. After all, every third-year or above could have told them the same things. But the younger students would have to have known to ask about the Shrieking Shack instead of slowly learning about it from the other students over their third year.

They were just . . . priming the pump, you might say. And, Harry suspected, it really wasn’t anything the Prefect could complain to Professor McGonagall about.

Of course, the twins were only third-year students themselves. They hadn’t yet had permission to visit Hogsmeade, much less explore it thoroughly. Not knowing how they had acquired such familiarity with Hogsmeade clearly left Percy seething with frustration. How had they done it?

“Of course,” George added.

“If you can fly, that information is moot,” Fred finished, grinning as they watched Scootaloo and their sister moving from window to window, scouting out the house.

“Come along,” said Fred, turning back from their detour and to the road that led to Hogsmeade.

“There is so much more to see in the village.”

The group made their way back to the main road. The rest of the school had already flooded into the village and scattered.

Scootaloo came shooting up to them. “Hay!” she said, “You left me behind.”

“Yeah,” added Ginny, coasting up to join them.

“Not a chance,” said Apple Bloom, “We knew you’d see us moving on.”

“What’d you see?” asked Sweetie Belle.

Scootaloo shrugged, “Nothin’ interesting. Broken furniture, dirt, dust, cobwebs, holes in the walls and floors. A real dump. I’d be amazed it hadn’t fallen down yet if the walls weren’t so surprisingly sturdy.”

“Now,” said George, or was it Fred? “The best places are Honeydukes, the Three Broomsticks, and Zonko’s Joke Shop.”

“But they’ll be mobbed at this point,” continued his brother.

They had reached High Street from the detour that had led to the Shrieking Shack. They could see the line of students waiting to get into Honeydukes as it snaked back and forth in front of the shop. The Three Broomsticks, across the street from Honeydukes didn’t have nearly as long a line, but there was one. Harry wasn’t sure why so many students were interested in the eatery so soon after having breakfast at Hogwarts, but it was certainly popular. Honeydukes, at least, sold candies you could store for consumption later in the month.

None of the other students paid any attention to the Gryffindor First Years. However, the residents of the small village, those that were out and about and not helping their storekeeper friends inside the shops, watched, amazed, as Scootaloo and Ginny hovered over the crowd. This was their first sight of the two student pegasi, and they quickly questioned the nearby students about the small flying ponies. Harry could hear gasps as others caught their first sight of them.

Zonko’s, as they slowly made their way down the street, also had a line out the door. One thing Harry did notice was that the further into the village they went, the shorter the lines became. One shop seemed to have a much longer line than the others. Longer, even, than the one into Honeydukes. Unlike the others, that line was all couples. The boys did not seem nearly as happy about being there as did the girls at their sides.

Harry saw Myrtle nearby, snickering at the wizards and occasionally waving to one or another as she caught their eye. Several of the witches were watching her with narrowed eyes. A number of the wizards jumped slightly, and then found something else to watch besides the former ghost — like the frowning witch they were standing beside.

“That’s Madam Puddifoot’s” said one twin with a shudder.

“The witches just love the place,” said the other.

“All pink with hearts.”

“The witches think it’s romantic.”

They both mimed gagging.

Scootaloo joined the boys in shuddering. The other girls looked at it speculatively, including, Harry noticed, Sweetie Belle. Harry pitied the boy she would talk into taking her there when she was old enough to start chasing colts.

The twins led them most of the way through the village, stopping when they reached a shop with a sign that said, “Gladrag’s Wizardwear.”

“Ladies,” said one twin, “Here’s a shop I’m sure you’ll love to visit. They have all sorts of clothes and fashions.”

“They both sell and buy clothes, so if you have anything you’ve outgrown,”

“. . . and want some knuts, this is the place.”

“Now, I’m sure you ladies will want to take a look.”

“So, while you do that, we’ll take the boys . . .”

“. . . to there, Dervish and Banges,” they both pointed down the street.

“They sell and repair all sorts of magical instruments and stuff.”

Percy gave them both the evil eye, scowling.

“Don’t worry, Percy, it’s all on the up and up,” one twin hastily told him.

Percy’s look did not improve. If anything he looked even more suspicious.

The twins exchanged looks, and sighed.

“Fine,” said Fred. “I’ll stay with the ladies.”

“And I’ll go with you and the other gentlemen to Dervish and Banges,” said the other.

Suiting action to words, the other twin looped his arm through Percy’s and started down the street, looking as if he were promenading with his girlfriend. “Come along now, dear brother,” he said in a high falsetto voice.

Percy tried to jerk his arm from his brother’s grip. George, or at least Harry thought it was George, had too good of grip.

“Now, don’t be like that brother, dear.” He flashed Percy a simpering smile. “It is so unseemly.”

Percy just scowled in response, but stopped struggling as he knew his brother would not give up.

The girls started giggling at the sight, and the boys did a bit of laughing, as well. The two groups set off towards their respective destinations. One a bit closer than the other.

Harry and the fillies followed the group that wasn’t going into the clothing store. Harry was so glad that none of the fillies were clothes horses — no pun intended.

۸- ̬ -۸

63 — Subtleties

Dumbledore watched, stunned, as the alicorn plunged, screaming, at the snake.

The basilisk ducked sideways. The sword slid along the back of its neck. The spear dug deep. The alicorn herself didn’t stop with that, however. She slammed all four hooves into the side of the snake’s head. She immediately shot up to the ceiling. She screamed, “FIRST BLOOD TO ME!”

At the same time, Rarity and Applejack charged. Sparkle dove down from above. The shield disappeared. Two swords plunged into the snake’s body. Applejack spun on her front hooves and bucked with her rear ones. Impossibly, the body of the multi-ton snake slammed into the statue behind it. Cracks spider-webbed up the wall.

In the clear orange-lit Chamber he could see something dripping from four long knives strapped to Luna’s black shoes, as well as from all the swords, and the spear, pulled from the snake. How had he missed seeing those knives mounted on her metal shoes?

The snake hissed in pain and turned to face its ground attackers. A magic shield snapped into place in front of them as the ponies darted back. The snake’s open mouth slammed into the shield. The Headmaster could see at least one broken fang fall to the floor.

Simultaneously, a rainbow blur shot across his sight and slammed, hooves first, into the snake’s snout, throwing it again into the statue. As it spun to face this new assailant, Pinkie, somehow, jumped up through the shield and fired a cannon — a cannon! — into the basilisk’s face, coating the entire side of it with a glowing liquid.

Luna again charged. She sank her blade into the beast’s side and slammed her spear and hooves into the snake. It crashed against the side wall as she darted back.

“Come,” Dumbledore said to the professors, “The most powerful stunners you can manage. Target its mouth.” The three wizards and witch aimed their wands and shot their spells. Four spells shot across the Chamber.

The snake hissed at Luna, its greatest threat.

The shield disappeared as the spells reached it. One struck the snake’s eye, the other three hit the sides of its mouth and tongue.

The shield reappeared.

The snake launched itself at Luna. She dodged easily, laughing delightedly.

It fell into the shield below Luna as it missed her. It hissed angrily. Its tongue lolled to one side. It reared up and back. Its head was level with the mouth of the statue.

“Again,” said the Headmaster calmly. Four spells lanced at the snake. The shield vanished as they reached it.

At the last second the basilisk lunged to the side.

The shield reappeared.

All four spells missed it.

Again, a rainbow blur flew across the room. It smashed into the basilisk. The snake’s head bounced off the wall behind it.

Again, four spells shot across the Chamber.

Rarity, Twilight, and Apple again charged the beast. The shield disappeared. They slashed and bucked its body. The sudden pain broke the snake from its daze. It snapped down at them. And again lost a fang as it hit Shining’s shield.

Two spells hit the creature.

Luna, not to be outdone, quickly dove a third time. She drove her weapons deep into the beast’s back. Her hoof-strike drove the snake’s head to the floor.

The basilisk rose up frighteningly fast. It sprang at Twilight. Its mouth snapped closed. There was a flash of light and faint bells. She reappeared behind its head and sank her blade deep.

The snake screamed. It threw its head back to smash Twilight against the statue. Twilight again disappeared, to reappear beside Dumbledore.

They stopped a moment to see what damage they had done. Dumbledore could feel himself getting hot as the Chamber was heated by the sphere overhead.

The King of Snakes coiled low and hissed at them. Paint dripped from its face, its eyes glared at them balefully. The snake’s inner-eyelid had protected it from Pinkie’s attempt to blind it. Their sword strikes were mere pinpricks compared to its vast length, its organs too spread out to easily target, too large to truly slow it down.

Behind them came Fluttershy’s voice, “Please, Mr. Snake, don’t fight us! We just want to move you somewhere else.”

There was a single long hiss.

“He says, ‘Never will I betray the Speaker!’”

Twilight said, “This thing is too big, our attacks are little more than annoyances.”

“Huzzah!” cried Luna. A brilliant beam sprang from her horn. It struck the basilisk in the face. Twilight disappeared from beside the Headmaster. She reappeared on the opposite side of the Chamber from Luna. Her beam joined Luna’s a second later. It was a sustained blast of power the wizards had never seen — their spells were usually individual discharges. The closest they could come to continuous blasts were incendio and fiendfyre. But these were neither, far more targeted, and clearly much easier to control.

Spells once more flew towards the snake. The shield blinked to let them pass.

The snake threw itself across the Chamber, still trapped behind Shining’s barrier. Luna and Twilight’s attacks followed the snake. Abruptly, the destructive beams cut off. Incredibly, the snake was unharmed, although its scales glowed red-hot where the beams had struck it. The snake glowered at Luna. It coiled for another strike. They readied for another assault.

Spells again shot towards the basilisk.

The Chamber was filled with smoke from the debris vaporized by the blasts and steam from the formerly damp and now baked floor. Dumbledore could hear the faint hiss as water slowly flowed back into the empty trough and evaporated as it hit the hot stones. He felt himself sweating from the steamy heat.

The shield blinked again. The snake jerked to the side. One spell struck its eye.

Twilight grimaced and faced the basilisk. A giant stunner bolt shot from her horn.

Again, the snake dodged. The spell clipped the side of its head. The spell apparently did nothing.

Pinkie jumped up beside Twilight. Somehow, she braced herself against Prince Armor’s shield. She grabbed the Princess behind the wings in one foreleg. She grabbed the alicorn’s tail in the other. Then she began to spin the purple alicorn’s tail like a crank. The four humans watched, stunned, as spells shot out of Twilight’s horn faster than should be possible. It was a steady stream of spells no human could hope to match. It was an incomprehensible impossibility that left them gaping.

The spells struck the snake. Pinkie played the stream of spells across its face like a wizard directing a torrent of water at a fire.

Luna had a ludicrously huge grin on her face. She blasted the creature with a beam of her own.

The snake screamed angrily. The sound was distorted as the stunners numbed its mouth and disappeared down its throat. It waved its head wildly, its eyes stunned and useless.

It tried to hunt them via its heat-sensing organs, and rocked its head madly. But the large hot sphere overhead blinded it as effectively as a searchlight would blind its eyes.

The basilisk twisted and twined to avoid the onslaught. Pinkie relentlessly followed it, grinning like a mad person. Finally, she stopped. Twilight looked dazed and her horn was smoking.

The snake coiled tightly at the base of the statue. Its head twisted around blindly as it uselessly sought its foes. Its tongue lolled limply, preventing it from even closing its mouth. It dodged Luna’s continuing attack as well as it could.

Once more, from behind them came Fluttershy’s voice, “Please, Mr. Snake, don’t fight us!”

The basilisk spun its head to face in her direction. A mangled hiss came forth. It stood up high. It looked as if it were about to strike out at Twilight or Luna. It suddenly turned around. It launched itself into the mouth of the statue, half its length disappearing in only a moment. It was escaping to its lair!

“Hurrah!” shouted Pinkie, echoed by Rarity, “We’ve forced it to retreat!”

“No!” cried Luna, “Snakes always have another exit from their lair! We must stop it!”

Princess Luna and Twilight tried to magically grab its tail and pull it back. They slowed it down, but too much of it had already vanished inside its lair. Its magic-resistant hide made it difficult to grab the rapidly disappearing tail. Unluckily, despite its length, it took only a few more moments to vanish inside. The statue’s mouth began to close. Princess Luna unleashed another blast from her horn and the statue’s bottom jaw blew across the Chamber in a rain of debris.

Twilight started to fly into the opening, but Princess Luna grabbed her in her magic. “We must plan what to do next!” she said urgently. They suddenly were beside the others on the ground, joined a moment later by a hovering Dash.

Oddly, Princess Luna didn’t immediately begin issuing orders. Instead, she looked at Twilight. “What should we do next?” she asked the smaller alicorn.

Twilight looked stunned at being asked such a question, and licked her lips uncertainly. Then she shook her head and stared at the statue’s destroyed mouth and her eyes narrowed in thought. She turned to them. “Shiny, I’ll take you and Fluttershy to the village. You set up another shield to protect the students and villagers in case the basilisk attacks there. Fluttershy,” she turned to face the yellow pegasus hiding behind Luna, “you fly above and keep a watch for the basilisk.”

She turned and pointed a hoof at Dash, “You and I will fly over the forest and watch for where the snake emerges.” She pointed at Luna. “Princess Luna, you take everyone else and follow in the snake’s tunnel.

“Whomever finds the snake first, contact the rest.”

She turned to her brother, but before she could act, Fluttershy said, “How do we contact anyone? We won’t know where they are.” She shrank back involuntarily as Twilight looked at her. “I mean, if you don’t mind telling me.”

Twilight stood a moment, her mouth open as she tried to come up with an answer. The Atlanteans apparently did not have an easy method of communication between themselves.

Dumbledore spoke up, “I think I know how we can keep in contact.”

Twilight looked at him and nodded, her eyebrows raised encouragingly.

“Can the pegasi carry riders?”

“Pshaw!” said Dash, “Easy as pie.” She frowned at the Headmaster. “You might be a bit much for Fluttershy, but I think she could carry the short guy without a problem.”

Twilight glared at the blue pegasus, and turned to the Headmaster. “Certainly, we can use a feather-weight charm if we must.”

He nodded. “Skiffy,” he called firmly.

“Skiffy is here Master Dumbles,” came the squeaky voice a second later. The house-elf looked around the steam-filled and smoky Chamber with wide eyes. Condensed steam began dripping off the cooler stone ceiling, creating a disconcerting mild drizzle. You didn’t expect it to rain inside an underground chamber.

“Skiffy, I need you to bring me the five smallest Hogwarts house-elves,” ordered the Headmaster. “Adults,” he added quickly. The house-elf nodded and disappeared.

“The house-elves can be sent to tell the others, should one of us find the basilisk first,” he explained to the others.

He had no sooner finished speaking than Skiffy returned with five elves whose heads barely reached the ponies’ shoulders.

“Skiffy is back, Master Dumbles,” declared the house-elf. He turned to the five smaller house-elves. “These be Minnie, Tippy, Tiny, Squeaker, and Mousey.” Each one bowed deeply as he or she was mentioned. They stared at the Headmaster with wide eyes, clearly having never thought they would be called on by their Master. There were, after all, hundreds of house-elves at the school.

“Excellent,” said the Headmaster. He stared down at the five elves with a kindly smile. “There is a basilisk loose and the Hogwarts students are in danger. I want you five to obey these . . . ,” he looked at the ponies for a moment. “. . . these ponies as if they were me.” The five nodded solemnly. “Squeaker,” he said, “you go with Princess Sparkle.” Almost before he had finished speaking the house-elf was lifted, with a squeak of surprise, and placed on Twilight’s back.

“Tiny, you go with Miss Fluttershy.” Tiny was deposited on Fluttershy’s back just as quickly. “Tippy, you go with Prince Armor; Mousey, you go with Miss Dash; and Minnie . . .”

Princess Luna interrupted, “If I find the snake, verily, ye will know by the explosions and fire!” She gleefully danced in place for a moment.

Twilight looked at her. “But you might need to send us a message before you find the basilisk.”

Luna rolled her eyes and her magic snatched the tiny elf, depositing her on Luna’s back. “Fine.” She turned her head to speak to the elf. “Stick tight, and go when I give thee leave.” Minnie nodded so hard her ears were a blur.

“Wait!” Dumbledore said as Twilight turned to her brother and Fluttershy. “Take Professor McGonagall with you to the village. She can warn the professors, Prefects, and villagers about what is happening and why.”

Twilight nodded and the seven of them disappeared.

Twilight returned with her passenger a minute or so later, then disappeared a second time, taking Rainbow Dash and her passenger as well.

Princess Luna grabbed everyone who remained and floated them behind her as she flew into the dark tunnel that was the Statue’s mouth, an orange-haze in front of them.

۸- ̰ -۸

“Sorry to disturb your day, Prime Minister, but as I told your secretary, this will only take two minutes, and it’s something that you hold confidential.”

John Major nodded.

“You mentioned something about magicians when speaking with the Princess the other day.”

He had Major’s full attention, now.

“I believe something has come up regarding the, uh, magic users. Princess Sparkle cancelled all her appointments and meetings for the day this morning, without any explanations.” And he proceeded to tell the man what had happened so far this morning.

“Based on what the Ambassador said, I don’t think it’s anything the government needs to worry about, but it clearly involves these magicians. I suspect we don’t want to do anything that might reveal the Equestrians are talking with us. So, maybe you should warn the Foreign and Home Secretaries, and Sir Walker and Sir McColl, of the possibility that there might be native Earth magicians? So we don’t accidentally do something that draws their attention? At least the Equestrians are being somewhat upfront with us. Who knows how these . . . magicians . . . will react? Right?

“And perhaps we could use the Equestrians as a way to . . . watch the magicians?”

Major stared at him before slowly nodding. “Thank you for you bringing this to my attention.” He turned and left the small meeting room they were in.

That . . . probably went as well as could be expected. He hoped.

Now all he could do was wait and see what happened. He headed back to his office. There was paperwork that needed filling out.

۸-_-۸

Shortly after breakfast and arriving at his post, Corporal Steady Charger watched the unicorn mare slowly coming up the road towards the Portal Check-in building. She was looking around and taking in everything she saw, from the newly paved road, to the tall wooden rail-fences separating the road on one side from Sweet Apple Acres and the park-like grounds of the former Everyfree forest on the other side.

He had first noticed her when she had stopped at the corner where the Everfree Wall descended in a graceful wave-shape down to meet the road. She had spent a few moments looking and walking back and forth, comparing the wild appearance on one side to the carefully manicured lawn on the other.

He waited patiently. She wasn’t the first pony to come inspect the new addition to Ponyville. Nor would she be the last.

She was a young mare with a light-blue coat and two-tone purple mane and tail.

When she was close enough for comfortable conversation, he said, “Good morning, miss. How may I help you?”

“Oh,” she said quietly, barely loud enough to hear. “I’m new in town and everypony’s been talking about this portal-thingy, so I thought I’d take a look, if you don’t mind.”

He gave her a friendly smile. “Sorry, but unless you have legitimate business, you can’t go any farther than here.”

“Oh.” She frowned prettily. “Well, can you tell me what it is or what’s going on?”

His smiled broadened a trifle. “It’s not really a secret, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just that for the untrained it can be quite dangerous. Like the way it’s dangerous to wander around a train-yard if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

She blinked a few times and sat down on the grass beside the building’s gate.

“You see,” he pointed into the passageway through the building, behind the gate, and at the brick path that continued into the park-like setting. “There’s a portal to another world up the path.”

“Really?” she said starting to get excited.

“Oh, yes,” he answered. “It’s a lot like here . . . grass, trees, squirrels, chipmunks. No monsters though, unlike the Everfree.” He glanced over at the trees that could be seen before the wall curved up enough to hide them.

He sighed. “Unfortunately, when you go through the portal, it changes you to a bipedal creature called a human.” He frowned and looked up the path. “You have to learn how to walk all over again, which means you’re pretty helpless until you learn how to do that.” He looked back at her.

She was frowning, with a distant look in her eyes. She was probably trying to imagine what that was like.

“Here, let me show you,” he said. He concentrated. An illusion slowly came to form beside him. A tall, well-muscled creature, wearing a short pleated skirt and boat-necked armless blouse, took shape. It had bright-green hair that reached to the skirt and positively towered over him.

The mare gasped and involuntarily shrank back.

He snickered. “This is Sharp Point, one of my squaddies, as she appears on the other side, and the creature she appears as is a female, a woman. Yeah, she looks intimidating, doesn’t she? But if you stand on your rear legs, you’ll be just as tall, so she’s really not that much than bigger you. Go on, you’ll see. She’s the same size as you are, normally, only with everything re-arranged on the other side of the portal.”

Slowly, awkwardly, the mare stood and balanced on her rear hooves. It was true, standing on her rear hooves, she could look Sharp Point in the eyes.

“What are those?” she pointed at the bulges in the blouse with one hoof before dropping to all fours.

“Those are where your teats end up when you go through the portal. Don’t know why the mares end up with such big ones, though.”

She reflexively twisted to look at her belly. “Huh.”

“And, as you can see by the clothes, the inhabitants of the other side of the portal are intelligent, and clever. Quite so, from what I ‘ve seen.”

She gasped. “You’ve been there?”

“Oh, yes, we’ve all been. Everypony posted here gets rotated through the portal on a regular basis. The Princesses are quite intent on establishing relations with the humans. We’re actually building an embassy on the other side, and there are plans for them to have an embassy on this side. And, they are very willing to share what they know with us — Princess Twilight Sparkle has already brought back over twenty thousand books, so far.”

He almost didn’t notice the look of distaste at the mention of Princess Sparkle, but it disappeared immediately as her eyes widened in shock.

“Twenty thousand books?” her jaw hung down in shock.

He nodded. “Oh yes, and we’ve already learned a bunch of new magic spells from them, and other stuff, too.” He tilted his head slightly, “Have you heard about the new telephones?”

She blinked at his question, returning from where her mind had gone at the thought of so many books. “I think so, the Mayor did mention something about soon being able to . . . tellyfoon? . . . directly to Canterlot instead of relying on mail for banking information when I asked about an apartment or house in the area.”

He nodded, “Yep. That was an idea from them. Every home and office has one, there. You can call and talk to anyone in their country almost instantly — as long as they’re at home or in the office, of course. We have one here, now,” he said nodding at the building behind him. “So if we have a problem, we can call Canterlot and alert them in seconds instead of the hours it would take a pegasus to fly the distance.”

She blinked a couple of times at that. “Oh, my,” was all she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Can’t you imagine the convenience of Manechester being able to call Canterlot if there’s a big accident and they need help? Or even being able to call your mother in Manehattan, from here, to wish her a happy birthday?”

She nodded slowly.

“And then there’s the new Undetectable Expansion Spell!” He trotted in place delightedly. “Look,” he said, turning sideways to her and pointing with a hoof. “See that small pocket?”

The illusion dissipated.

She looked at the flap on the side of his armour. It wasn’t much wider than two-hooves.

“Watch this!” the flap opened and a spear came out, one longer than his body. Another followed it, then came a bedroll, a knife, and a dozen of what she recognized as sealed meal-packs. Then they started floating back in. “I can carry enough equipment for heavy combat, food for a week, extra equipment, and all without having to carry anything! And the best part is, it’s spelled to weigh no more than a single meal-pack! No more hauling wagons around with our supplies or carrying packs that weigh as much we do!”

She sat silent for several minutes, stunned.

“It’s kinda of odd, though,” he finally said, frowning, and thinking. “Very few of those humans can do magic. In fact, from what we’ve been told, there are less than 100,000 magic users in the entire country on the other side, out of fifty-seven million humans.”

Her jaw hung down again. “F-fifty-seven million?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, nodding. “And, what’s really odd, is that the magic users are hiding from the non-magic users.”

“Hiding?”

“Yeah. It seems that several hundred years ago the magic-users, they call themselves wizards and witches, terribly abused their magic against the non-magic users. And the non-magic users began to call them monsters and killing the wizards and witches in retaliation.” He shook his head sadly. “So the wizards and witches went into hiding.” He sighed. “Which means, when we go there, we can’t use magic unless it’s a life-or-death emergency.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s really difficult getting out of the habit of using your horn, you know?” He looked at her. “No to mention that it’s harder to do magic there.”

She again nodded, “Yeah, I suppose it would be.”

He perked up. “Oh, and you know what the weirdest thing is? The wizards and witches? They don’t have cutie marks! None at all!”

She stared at him, eyes wide, again. “No cutie marks?”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head, “None at all.”

She stared at him for several moments, her eyes narrowing in thought. She looked down at the ground, then looked up and frowned at him, squinting slightly. “Are you pulling my leg?” she said suspiciously.

He laughed, “Much as that would be a great prank, no.”

“Then why are you so willing to tell me all this?”

He shook his head. “As I said, it’s not a secret. Right now, only researchers and guards are allowed to visit the other world. But in a month, when the embassy is open, others will be allowed to visit as well.” He grinned at her. “To set up trade and other things.” He paused a moment.

“The Princesses know that there’s no way to keep a secret like this for very long, so they aren’t even trying. In fact, that seems to be working better than trying to keep it a secret.” He laughed again. “Ponies hear strange stories coming out of Ponyville all the time; they just put this one down as another tall tale. If we tried to keep it a secret, well, everypony would want to know what the secret is.” He stomped his front hooves. “I imagine a reporter will get here soon enough, then everypony will flock to take a look. That won’t be fun.” He took a deep breath. “In the meantime, though, it’s really boring, so having someone to talk to is a nice way to pass the day.”

They spent another half-hour talking. He showed her how they had learned to walk on their lower legs by putting their hocks to the ground, and how that had felt as compared to actually having feet to walk on. He explained that they had two barracks, a hotel, and an administrative building finished up the path, preparing for when things were more active.

“You know, if you don’t have a job yet, you could apply for one here,” he said. “It’s a really nice working here. Everypony is really focused. But you have to be comfortable with working with non-ponies. And willing to go through the portal and learn about the humans.”

She nodded, clearly thinking it over.

That led to a discussion of the humans’ obsession with wearing clothes, and other topics about the other side of the portal. Eventually, she asked what they used for bits, he had said, “I’m not too clear on that, as Princess Sparkle and the Element Bearers took care of all that. I did hear, though, that they traded gems, both magic bearing and not, to the humans and wizards. Apparently they’re far rarer there than here.”

Finally, she thanked him profusely for entertaining her for the morning, and giving her so much to think about. “And I’ll consider applying for one of those jobs you mentioned,” she said as she turned and trotted off back to town.

As she did so, he noticed her cutie mark was a four-point star with a very long blue and green swirl above it. He decided she had nice flanks. He wondered if he would see her in town tomorrow, his day off.

Once she was out of sight, he turned and went inside to the guards’ office. While a nice conversation, he now had to log their conversation, leave a synopsis of what they had talked about, and note down her cutie mark for the official record. It was the security part of the job he liked the least, but it was necessary. They did have to worry about changelings, after all. That would become a nightmare once the crowds started to come over.

He stopped a moment and thought. It was odd that she hadn’t offered her name. Most mares did. Nor tried to find out if he was single or looking.

۸- ̰ -۸

64 — Letting Loose

Harry was amazed at the items he saw in the fix-it shop. There were self-stirring cauldrons; plain and fancy brass scales; bins of unbreakable vials; telescopes of varying complexity; wizard radios; large and old-fashioned-looking record-players; newer, fancy, small record-players; and a score of other items. And all of them were at what looked like reasonable prices! He was surprised that the Weasley family hadn’t done some of their supply shopping here.

Ron, he noticed, was staring at a wizarding radio with a calculating look. Just one of his two sickles would be more than enough for such an item, but he clearly wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend his financial boon on such an item. On the other hand, he obviously wouldn’t be spending any of it on clothes or books!

The reason he had two sickles was that Harry hadn’t needed his, he had stacks of galleons in his trunk, as did the fillies. They had decided that giving Ron, Ginny, and the twins their sickles from the Great Hall made far more sense than keeping the coins for themselves. The twins had been easily convinced that this wasn’t charity when Scootaloo said, “We’re nowhere as good as you two at pranking, so consider this as our way of participating.” Unspoken was the thought that if they provided the twins some funds, maybe the twins wouldn’t be as likely to prank them. Ginny and Ron had been harder to persuade, but threatening to give the extra sickles to the twins had changed their minds — they would take the sickles, if only to deprive their siblings of the money to buy even more pranking supplies. Of which Ron knew he would be the target.

He wandered over to join Ron, who gave him a quick look. “You know,” Harry said “it might be nice to have a radio in our dorm room this winter.” Ron had looked at him sharply. “Might make it easier to study,” he had nonchalantly added, “how about we go halfsies on it?” He had shrugged, “I mean, that way we could all enjoy it. Of course, I wouldn’t want to take it home because it won’t work there, so you might as well, right, to keep it safe? And no one could say you’re a spendthrift.”

Ron had slowly nodded, and turned to examine the radios a bit more carefully.

The red-head was just putting their radio, now shrunken, in his pocket when Dean said, “Hey, what’s that?” and pointed outside, up into the air.

The others all made their way to the front of the shop to Dean and looked up at the distinctly pinkish tinge the sky had acquired. The fillies gasped. They recognized that particular hue. The fillies exchange looks.

Sweetie Belle said, “Shining Armor?”

“I’d think so, but he ain’t here . . . is he?” said Apple Bloom.

“Well, Twilight might have gotten him to come with today,” Harry suggested.

They heard Professor McGonagall’s voice very loudly proclaim, “ALL PREFECTS REPORT IN AT THE POST OFFICE!”

“Come on, something’s up!” Scootaloo said and ran for the shop door, followed by the rest. As soon as Scootaloo hit the outside, she was off like a shot, flying to see what it was all about.

There was a huge crowd when they got to the Post Office, which they had expected. Scootaloo and Ginny were hovering over near where Professor McGonagall was talking to someone they couldn’t see. Harry and the other two fillies followed in Percy’s footsteps as he forged a path through the students gathered there, saying, “Make way! I’m a Prefect!” What they didn’t expect to see was that Shining Armor was really there, standing beside Professor McGonagall, as his pony self!

Before they could say anything, though, Professor McGonagall said, “All Prefects, we need an immediate headcount! Make sure that all students are here in Hogsmeade!”

Harry and the fillies exchanged worried looks. Something had clearly gone wrong in the Chamber of Secrets! He hoped Twilight was okay, and the other mares.

Using storefronts and nearby buildings as meeting points, the next few minutes were bedlam as the students gathered into their Houses, and then separated into their years. Scootaloo and Ginny reluctantly transformed back to people, at Percy’s insistence.

“But what about the floo-connections?” asked Sweetie Belle. “Couldn’t someone have used them to go somewhere else?” Harry and the other close Gryffindor Firsties just shrugged. However, Percy happened to overhear them. He said, “The shopkeepers and home-owners are keeping a sharp eye on who is using the floo’s. The Headmaster had the house-elves warn the villagers this morning while we were still at breakfast. Students were not to have access to them for any reason. And each one has a house-elf hiding and watching it to thwart any sneaky attempts.”

And then he explained what house-elves were to all Gryffindors who didn’t know about them. Hermione, Harry, and the fillies were not happy to learn of the slavery in which the creatures were held. Harry expected words to be said by Twilight when she learned of it.

To help search the village for stragglers, Professor McGonagall called in the assistance of the house-elves. Their abrupt appearance startled many of the muggle-born and half-blood students. It took only fifteen minutes to verify that all the Hogwarts’ students were present and accounted for.

Professor Quirrell scowled fiercely, his instructions curt, and his stuttering was oddly under control. He may have looked like a joke in the classroom, but out here he was decisively in control and direct. No meandering sentences, just short curt orders issued in a no-nonsense, you-will-not-disobey, tone.

Fortunately, it was still early enough that none of the students had started to explore the farther reaches of the quaint little village. Which would have put them outside the shield Prince Shining Armor had erected.

By the time the counting was done, word had spread that the Chamber of Secrets had been found, that there had been a monster in the Chamber, that the monster had somehow escaped the Headmaster, and that it was now suspected to be in the Forbidden Forest. Hence the transparent pink dome over the village.

While that had been going on, the professors had been gathered and brought up to date. Harry noticed that Professor Quirrell now seemed to vacillate between being angry, frightened, upset, and frustrated! He was most certainly frustrated when he discovered that the shield put up by Prince Shining Armor prevented anyone from physically entering or leaving the village. Or apparating — some of the older students did have their licenses already, after all.

With that bit of excitement settled, the students scattered once more and returned to deciding how they were going to spend their remaining bounty of knuts. And gossiping and speculating about what was going on and why the wizard called Shining Armor was putting up the shield as a unicorn animagus instead of using his wand.

۸- ̰ -۸

Dumbledore found himself carefully studying the animagus ahead of them as she ran down the tunnel. Princess Luna was ably demonstrating that he had drastically under-estimated the Atlanteans.

The battle in the Chamber had been enormously illuminating. The ponies had physically attacked the basilisk instead of using magic. When those tactics had proved ineffective, the Princesses had hit the basilisk with powerful fire-beams as they hovered in mid-air.

Unlike fiendfyre, which required great skill to keep it from attacking its caster and staying on target, or incendio, which was a rather weak flame, those beams had been intense, powerful, and easily manipulated. The snake’s inherent magic-resistance had rendered the fire-beams ineffective, naturally, but, then, neither were wizards’ spells very effective against such an armoured beast.

It would have taken several dozen experts to kill the creature using their normal spells. And there would have been many injuries, or even deaths. The beast’s only weak spot was its mouth, and the snake would have quickly learned to keep its mouth closed except at the very last second of an attack.

And the pink pony had used Princess Twilight as an instrument of magic — that had shocked him to his core. He had never heard of such a thing in all his research into magic. It shouldn’t be possible to use another wizard or witch as a magical weapon! But he had seen it. Perhaps it was that their wand was their horn that allowed such a thing?

That none of the Atlanteans had tried magic first, except for Prince Armor’s shield spell, was distressing. It implied that magic was so common that physically attacking was considered the most effective first option. That was a concept few wizards could even begin to comprehend. Wizards relied heavily on their wands and magic, and almost never resorted to physical violence.

Any wizard facing an Atlantean in a duel would learn a hard lesson that magic wouldn’t always win a fight. Using your wand to defend yourself from a magical attack left you open to physical attacks. Not to mention that a flying attack from Dash, or any of the pegasi, would flatten a wizard before he could even think of a spell, much less pull a wand out of his pocket.

Moreover, the sheer power in those fire-beams would have burst through the average wizard’s shield spell in a few moments. And finally, using their horns meant that you could never summon their main weapon in a duel, but they could summon yours if you were even distracted for the tiniest moment.

It was a wonder that the Atlanteans didn’t spend all their time as their pony animagi! And they were almost irresistibly cute in that form, as well, which would trick any wizard or witch into drastically under-estimating their opponent until it was far too late.

Apparition during a duel was difficult. You had to stop whatever you were doing and perform the wand movement while devoting all your attention to the spell, or risk splinching. Teleporting, as practiced by the Atlanteans didn’t have that delay, meaning as soon as you thought of it, you were moved — no wand movements at all, no transitioning from one movement to the next. And Twilight had just gone through a series of teleports that would have taxed all but the strongest wizards, not to mention performing them in mid-air-to-the-ground and back, something wizards considered nearly impossible to master, never mind being extremely dangerous. And he knew of none in history who had mastered that skill! Even Voldemort only apparated while his feet were on the ground.

And now he had just seen Princess Luna shrink herself, and her passenger house-elf, Minnie, to a smaller size in order to fit into the snake’s tunnel that led from its lair, the tunnel being just over three-quarters as tall as she was. And she had done it while levitating three ponies and three wizards in her wake. That, again, indicated a tremendous amount of power as well as very fine control of magic. An impossible feat for a wizard as you could only do one spell at a time with a wand.

It had been a very long time since anyone had used magic to pick up and carry Dumbledore, and he found the experience to be quite odd. A feeling he was sure he shared with the other professors. That the one that still carried them was carrying a total of six beings, seemingly effortlessly, and while running through a stone-arch tunnel was astonishing.

That she did so without once having them touch the walls, nor ever looking back to check on them, was even more so. Especially considering the way the tunnel twisted side-to-side instead of being a straight line.

No wonder the others had made her one of their rulers! Or had she simply seized power and no one was strong enough to depose her? But she ruled with her sister, according to what Rarity had said, so maybe the two of them were unbeatable? But then why would they allow a potential competitor to arise, as Princess Sparkle appeared? Sure, she wasn’t as powerful as them at this point in time, but eventually she would be able to match them. And Rarity had mentioned another Princess in another kingdom, didn’t they worry that she and Princess Sparkle might join forces against them?

They were certainly going through the tunnel much faster than they could have if they had tried to follow the basilisk on foot. The low ceiling would have put the wizards in a half-crouch, an awkward position in which to try to hurry. And the gravel underfoot would have made their running all that more treacherous.

Luna was lighting the tunnel before them with her horn, giving them some light to see ahead.

He had no doubt that if this tunnel was long enough, they would catch the snake. Although what they would do then was questionable. The low-ceilinged tunnel didn’t provide much in the way of manoeuvring room, did it now?

And then there was her attitude. She seemed to be enjoying herself. She had clearly hoped that the basilisk would put up a fight. And she had not been slow to start once the decision had been made by the basilisk. Her delight at being the first to draw blood was troubling, but she plainly took no pleasure in causing pain. It was only in the execution of her strategies.

That she had turned to the other princess for instructions when she clearly was the more experienced leader had surprised him greatly. Especially because Princess Sparkle obviously considered the other to be her superior. And had appeared just a surprised as himself.

That Princess Luna was using this incident as a teaching moment was evident, now that he considered things. But why? Did they not consider her and this other alicorn a threat? The Atlanteans had implied that their ruling Princesses were immortal, or, at the least, extremely long-lived. Did that mean Princess Sparkle was equally long-lived? Harry had said she only recently became a princess, so maybe not? Maybe they didn’t consider her a threat because she wasn’t immortal?

He shook his head. He had to concentrate on what they were doing now. A distraction now, no matter how intriguing, could get one of them grievously injured or killed.

He saw that the tunnel in front of them seemed clearer than before. They must be approaching the exit, he decided. He could see that the tunnel had a gentle slope upwards, now.

Princess Luna slowed to a walk and gently set them all on the tunnel floor.

“We shall check the exit for a trap,” she whispered, carefully moving forward. Rarity moved up to her flank, sword ready. Dumbledore could see the faint shimmer of a shield in front of the two Atlanteans.

Pinkie Pie popped her head into the tunnel from the opening ahead, “Come on, you slowpokes,” she said in a stage whisper. “The snake’s gonna get away if you don’t hurry.” She giggled disturbingly.

He heard Filius gasp from slightly behind him. “How did she get out of here without us seeing her!” demanded the Charms Professor. “She was right here a moment ago!”

Before he could say anything, the three ponies in front of them broke into a run and burst out of the tunnel. They followed as fast as they could manage.

The four ponies were gathered to one side of the exit.

Dumbledore took a look around. The surrounding trees made it impossible to determine precisely where they were. Behind him, when he looked, was a small outcropping of rocks liberally decorated with grass and bushes. The bushes that had once hidden the tunnel entrance from view were smashed flat.

“Prithee thee, wait here while I scout from above,” said the dark-purple pony, now her normal size.

“Wait,” said the Headmaster. He held up his wand balanced on his finger and concentrated. He cast the owl-mail spell with the basilisk as the addressee. His wand spun, then stopped. “The basilisk is that way,” he pointed in the direction indicated by his wand.

Princess Luna launched herself into the air and started flying after the King of Snakes. Once more they were all in the grip of magic as she dragged them behind her. Dumbledore found himself brought up to beside her so she could keep an eye on his wand.

It was a short flight, but it was long enough to show the Headmaster where they were. They were a mile, maybe a mile-and-a-half, from the castle, due east, and on the opposite side of the lake from the village. The students and residents of Hogsmeade were safe, for the moment.

For some reason, the snake was headed back towards the school. There seemed to be a large grey area in-between them — a collection of dead trees. He would have to have Hagrid check that out later to make sure there wasn’t a problem.

Half-way to the grey area, Dumbledore’s wand suddenly pointed down.

“HUZZAH!” cried the Princess, letting loose another blast of magic and playing it back and forth for a moment directly below them. Dumbledore felt her magic holding him vibrate while she did that. Was she casting multiple magics simultaneously? Or just switching between them at a high rate of speed? Either was an accomplishment he had never heard of a wizard achieving.

The trees were rapidly reduced to smoke and ash, and left a portion of the snake exposed. The snake quickly disappeared into the trees.

She coasted down to the clearing she had created and released everyone. She glanced over her shoulder at the house-elf. “Tell Twilight and Rainbow Dash where we are.” Minnie popped away immediately. Just as Princess Luna turned back to them, Twilight appeared at above her, coasting with both house-elves on her back. Minnie again popped away. The wait was a bit longer, but Dash came zooming in from the north with both house-elves. Twilight and Dash quickly landed.

“Twilight and I shall retrieve the basilisk,” Princess Luna said. She grinned gleefully. “Now that we’re in the open and away from the school, I don’t have to hold back!” She danced merrily on her hooves, then launched herself after the snake at a full gallop, Minnie clinging to her mane, terrified. Twilight followed in the other Princess’ wake. Squeaker clung to her mane, looking no less scared than the other house-elf.

Dumbledore and the three professors looked at each other before hurrying down the trail left by the snake. Applejack and Rarity trotted with them as Dash soared up into the sky to watch from overhead. Pinkie Pie pronked along beside them, drawing amazed looks that she ignored. She was softly singing. The only words Dumbledore made out were, “smoke on the water, the fire in the sky.” He shook his head and concentrated on not tripping over the broken debris left by the snake.

Ahead of them, they heard repeated rapid explosions. Flashes of light filtered through the trees. Dumbledore could see smoke overhead through the tree canopy. He could feel the ground shaking under his feet. Pinkie Pie, he saw, was now wearing a camouflaged helmet and vest, all in pink, with, of all things, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth. And was that a three-day-old dark beard on her muzzle? Did ponies have beards? Did mares have beards? Had he breathed in something in the Chamber and was now hallucinating?

The explosions and flashes continued. There was a blast of light. They all ducked their heads to the side and winced, closing their eyes. There were a more explosions and flashes of light. Another burst of brilliant light. This one didn’t immediately fade. It was sustained for several seconds before dying out. Then silence.

The wizards exchanged worried looks. The ponies exchanged triumphant looks. Moments later, Rainbow Dash came flying up behind them, Mousey still clinging doggedly to her mane. Mousey looked stunned at what she had seen.

“Luna got ’im!” she declared. “It was incredible!” She hovered upright. “You shoulda seen it! Luna went BOOM!” Dash struck out with hoof, as if she were boxing. “The snake hissed and tried to run, but Luna wouldn’t let ’im. BAM! Luna hit ’em again!” She struck out with the other hoof. “He dodged to the side,” she hovered to her left. “But Twilight was ready and blew a crater where he was headed. Then he turned the other way, but Luna blocked ’im with another explosion — BOOM!” Dash continued to give them an explosion by explosion summary of the battle for almost a full minute. “Then Luna burned a big circle around the snake so he couldn’t escape — PHOOSH!” She threw both hooves up in the air. “He tried to leap up at Twilight, but she dodged and gave him a face-full of whompin’! Then Luna grabbed ’im in her magic and squashed ’im right down!” She looked at them grinning as proudly as if she had done it herself. “They’ll be here in a moment.” Mousey nodded dazedly.

Almost on cue, after a brief wait, the two ponies came trotting back down the snake’s trail. Princess Sparkle looked tired, but Princess Luna looked exhilarated. Between and above Luna’s folded wings was a sphere of energy not quite as big as Rainbow, and almost thick enough to be opaque. Inside it could barely be seen the form of a coiled snake, obviously hissing wildly, furious at its containment. Minnie was so tightly pressed against the Princess’ neck to avoid touching the sphere that she almost disappeared into Luna’s mane. Squeaker, still on Twilight’s back, had the same stunned look that Mousey displayed.

“We haven’t had such fun in ages!” Princess Luna declared. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She turned to the Headmaster and stared at him intently. “Perchance, dost thou have any other monsters with which We might joust?” she asked hopefully.

Dumbledore stared at the trapped basilisk. He had expected it to be dead. He cleared his throat. “Not that I am aware of, your Majesty.” And tried to imagine how much magic it took to overcome the basilisk’s natural magical resistance to make it possible to use a shrinking spell on the beast.

“Oh,” she said, clearly disappointed and her cheer deflating a bit.

“What will you do with the basilisk?” he asked carefully.

Princess Luna shrugged dismissively. “Place it in Tartarus with the other dangerous monsters. In a nice, large, cool chamber inside a much larger ice cave it cannot cross, so it won’t be inclined to mischief. Fear not, he shall be well cared-for,” she said, nodding.

He slowly nodded. “I see.”

The Ministry would have quickly killed it and harvested its corpse for the valuable materials it contained. A basilisk of its size had never been seen before, and the profit from its venom alone would make a wizard rich. Never mind what hit-wizards would pay for the hide!

He looked at the Professors, all of whom were inspecting the snake’s enclosure closely. “Then,” he said, “we should probably head back to Hogwarts.” He turned to the Atlanteans. “Do you wish to stay in your animagi forms?”

The six ponies exchanged glances, then, one by one they returned to normal, their house-elves dropping down beside them. Except Rainbow Dash. She said, “I’ll, uh, go tell Fluttershy we found the basilisk and everything’s okay.”

She shot up through the trees’ canopy before anyone could point out that they could easily send one of the house-elves. And carried Mousey off with her.

“I swear” Rarity said, shaking her head, “if she could figure out how to fly while sleeping she would never stop flying!”

“It would appear to be so,” said Dumbledore, looking up disbelievingly at the fading rainbow streak the blue-coloured pegasus had left in her wake. He shook his head slightly, then looked down at the ground. Bending over he picked up a broken branch. The ponies watched him curiously. He smiled and lightly tapped the wood with his wand. The stick glowed briefly.

“Now, if everyone would place a finger on this, it’ll take us straight back to my office.” They crowded close and each followed the instructions, even the house-elves.

Except for Princess Luna, all the Atlanteans ended up in a pile on the floor. “What was that!?” demanded Miss Applejack. The rest muttered incoherently. Both Miss Rarity and Miss Applejack were holding their stomachs and looked a bit green. “Can we do it again?” said Pinkie Pie, giggling and staggering a bit as she stood.

Princess Luna was restraining a laugh.

“Ah.” Dumbledore said, eye twinkling kindly. “I thought you knew of portkeys.” He held out a hand and helped Princess Sparkle back to her feet. “There is a trick to them when landing. As you see the ground approaching, start walking and you will be fine. Otherwise you will end up tripping as the spell stops and you keep moving forward. Plus, your first time can be quite disorienting, as you have discovered.”

He tossed the stick into his fireplace. Princess Sparkle hopped excitedly, and a bit unsteadily, from foot to foot, “Could you do that again?”

He looked at her, mildly surprised. “Make a port-key?”

She nodded eagerly as her friends regained their feet behind her.

Smiling, he picked up a small paper. “I must tell you first, however, that making portkeys is strictly regulated by the Ministry. However, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I am empowered to make them as long as I restrict myself to Hogwarts, or in cases of dire emergency. There are special charms, however, in effect around every country to redirect international portkeys to specific controlled locations in those countries. And redirected portkeys can be extremely unpleasant.”

The Atlanteans exchanged looks and shuddered.

“There are several variations to the Portkey charm,” Albus lectured. “You can set it to activate at a specific time. You can make it activate when touched. You can make it activate only to a specific person. You can make it respond to a verbal command. And, you can combine these.”

Princess Sparkle nodded eagerly, and Princess Luna watched curiously.

“In operation, it is quite similar to apparition. First, you determine the destination — and it has to be somewhere you are familiar with — and then decide which activation triggers you want. Then, keeping all that in mind, you tap an object with your wand and say, portus.” He illustrated by tapping his wand on a blank sheet of paper on his desk.

He handed the sheet to Princess Sparkle. “This will take you directly to the Hogwarts front gates and then back here when you say ‘front gates’ and ‘office,’ respectively. It will work only once for each of those. And only for you.”

She took the paper gingerly, staring at it, her lips moving as she ‘read’ the charm.

“You may use that to go to Hogsmeade and retrieve your companions.” He smiled again as she looked up at him. “If you could be so kind as to return with Professor McGonagall, I would appreciate it.”

He turned to Princess Luna. “I would suggest you go with her to Hogsmeade so you can teleport home with your prize.” He looked up at the sphere hovering over her left shoulder. “I am not sure that you wouldn’t lose it if you tried to take it through the floo.”

She nodded as she looked at the sphere thoughtfully.

۸- ̬ -۸

65 — Secrets

The sudden outbreak of explosions and brilliant flashes of light coming from the direction of Hogwarts alarmed the students and residents in Hogsmeade. It didn’t take long before there was a large crowd gathered just inside the edge of Shining’s shield, and several yards from the lake, opposite Hogwarts. Naturally, Harry and the fillies were there to. A few students had brought their shrunken brooms with them, and, with Scootaloo and Ginny, were able to get high enough under Shining’s shield spell to see that the explosions were not in the school. Or even near it. Which was a great relief to the observers, especially the Professors.

That great plumes of smoke were coming from the Forbidden Forest kept their attention, and rumours sprouted faster than the explosions.

“Wow!” breathed Harry, seeing the entire Castle limned in a bright light, followed five seconds later by an explosion. “I bet Princess Luna is here! Twilight almost never goes all out like that!”

Ron and Neville looked at him, and then at the ongoing distant battle.

“Uh, Harry?“ asked Neville tentatively, “Just how big is this basilisk snake supposed to be?”

“Sixty feet,” he replied distractedly.

“Maybe a bit more,” added Scootaloo, hovering over their heads, watching the flashes intently after telling everyone what she had seen.

“Yeah,” agreed Sweetie Belle, “Twilight said she thought it could be as much as seventy, based on how big its eyes were in Myrtle’s memory of her death.”

“And that was forty-eight years ago, so it could be bigger for all we know,” finished Apple Bloom.

“And that was under our school!?” said Ron, with a swallow.

Harry could hear other students telling their friends about what Harry and the three foreign girls had said. He frowned. The snake would probably be a mile in length by the time the story finished spreading.

It was almost like watching fireworks in Ponyville. Only in the day time. And it seemed to last a long time.

There was a final bright glow from beyond the castle that lasted almost a full minute before fading and leaving a rising, giant cloud of smoke that the winds higher up quickly dispersed.

Several minutes passed with nothing more happening, and the crowd began to thin as students headed back into the village. It was getting close to lunch, and the students still had most of their spending allowance in hand.

The Gryffindor First Years joined them. They had just arrived in front of the post office on their way to finish their shopping at the stores when Harry saw Twilight coming up the street.

Scootaloo immediately flew over to her. Harry and the others followed her, jogging.

“Is everything all right?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

Twilight grinned at him. “Of course, I’m alright. Nobody got hurt.” Her expression darkened a bit. “Well, except for the basilisk. But he’ll recover nicely after a good sleep.”

Harry glanced around her. “Where is he?”

“Oh, Princess Luna took him back home already.”

Harry gave her a long look. Then raised an eyebrow. “Portal?” he said just loud enough for her to hear. Twilight smiled reassuringly.

“She thinks it won’t be a problem. And if it is, she can handle it.”

“Good.”

By that time they had made it up to where Shining Armor was sitting. He looked at Twilight and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

She nodded back. “It’s all okay, we captured the basilisk. Princess Luna’s already on her way home with him.”

Scootaloo shot up into the sky, only now noticing that there were two circling dots far overhead. One was a difficult to see yellow while the other was a just as difficult to make out blue. One was Fluttershy, of course, while the other had to be Dash.

He gave a relieved sigh, and the pinkish shield vanished from overhead. It took only a few moments before the smell of smoke reached them. His other eyebrow went up as he looked at his sister. She gave him a sheepish grin.

“It did put up more of a fight, but Princess Luna caught and shrunk him down to a manageable size.”

He nodded in understanding. “Well, as long as it’s taken care of.” He looked around at the students that were still watching him curiously.

“You should probably change back,” she suggested.

“What? Oh. Right.” He changed back to his human form, getting more than a few admiring looks from the older witches watching. And few wizards.

Professor McGonagall had stayed with Shining Armor to make sure he wasn’t bothered while maintaining the shield. She appeared quite relieved to hear that everything had been settled without any loss of life.

Twilight turned to her. “The Headmaster wants you to return with us to the castle. He gave me a portkey.” She held up the blank paper in her hand, then glanced around. “I think we can leave the students to their own devices, now.”

Fluttershy settled to the ground behind Shining, as the area in front was rather crowded with students now, all trying to find out what had happened. Scootaloo and Dash just hovered over her friends, with Dash giving her a quick summary of the fight, with the promise of a more detailed description later.

“Everything’s fine, Fluttershy,” Twilight said. “You can change back, now.”

Moments later, after a few last minute instructions from the professor to her Prefects, and a final admonishment to the twins to keep things under control, the four adults, one pony, and three house-elves vanished from sight as they portkeyed away.

“Well,” said Scootaloo, “Now what?”

“Let’s go back to Dervish and Banges,” suggested Sweetie, “they had some neat stuff there.”

۸- ̬ -۸

Princess Twilight was not gone for very long and returned with both of her friends, the house-elves, and Professor McGonagall.

Dumbledore gave Minerva a questioningly look.

“Everything in the village is just fine. The merchants and residents are coping with the students, and so far the students have been very well behaved. No one has, as yet, tried to sneak home via the floo’s in the village.” She frowned. “Professor Quirrell appears quite out of sorts, though.” She shook her head. “He seemed rather distressed to hear that the basilisk had been captured.” She looked at the Headmaster, still frowning. “He seemed to take it personally. But with his stutter, I don’t know what help he would have been.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I’m sure he wanted to help, but his talents are better suited to keeping the students safe. As I told him this morning when I asked him to supervise the Ravenclaws in Filius’ absence.” He turned to Princess Twilight.

“I thank you for your help today. It would have been much harder to confront the basilisk if all of you hadn’t been down there.” He shook his head. “The Ministry’s Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is well meaning, but I’m sure they would have under-estimated the creature — I know I did — to our detriment. Even the Dragon handlers would have been strained.” He stroked his beard a few times. “None would ever have believed the snake to be as big as it was.

“And we wouldn’t have been able to pry it out of its lair before it fled.”

He sighed. “I believe the next step is to secure that outside entrance so nothing from the forest wanders into the Chambers. That will also give us time to create something a bit more convenient for access, closer to the castle.” He looked over at his professors. “And while Flitwick and I are taking care of that, I’m sure Severus and Minerva want to take a look around the Chamber and see if there are any other surprises we need to be wary of.”

He looked back at the Princess and her companions, eyes twinkling and smiling. “And I’m sure that there are things you had planned for today that you have had to put off, and want to get back to.”

Twilight just stared at him a moment. “Actually, no. We aren’t finished here just yet.” She started pacing. “When Fawkes took you to the Chamber, I started to scan the castle, looking for other things that really shouldn’t be here where children can get at them.” She glanced over at him.

He stared back at her for a moment, then said, “We do have some books in the Restricted Section of the library that are rather Dark. I’m sure those are what you detected.”

She just stared back at him.

“And I know there are some Dark artefacts in the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, which Professor Quirrell will use for teaching purposes for the Sixth and Seventh Year students.”

She continued to stare at him.

He sighed.

“And, no doubt, there are a few cursed items that the Slytherin students have brought from home.”

She frowned.

“Which way is the Slytherin dorm?”

He pulled out his wand, and a quick where-is-it charm gave her that answer.

“And the Defence Against the Dark Arts office?”

A second where-is-it settled that question.

She then asked for the other dorms.

She frowned and pointed in an apparent random direction, up and away from the dorms. “And what is that way?”

“Nothing except empty classrooms and corridors, at the moment. Nothing we should be concerned about. Why?”

She studied him carefully.

“Because my scan revealed a magic that is very familiar to me. Something that is filled with hatred and wants nothing more than to hurt anyone who comes close to it, much more so than anything else in this castle.”

۸-_-۸

Castor knocked lightly on the door before opening it and walking into the Ambassador’s office one more time. The secretary, a tall young woman was seated behind her desk, a pen scribbling across a paper as she watched.

Castor still found it odd to see magic at work for such a mundane task as writing.

“Good afternoon,” he said, “Ambassador Blueblood indicated he needed my assistance for something?”

The woman stood while the pen continued to write and opened the door. “Mr. Searle is here, sir,” then waved him into the room.

Inside the room was the Ambassador and two other women. He saw that the Monopoly board was still set up, only there were a few more houses and even a hotel on it.

“It’s good to see you again, Ambassador,” he said, as he eyed the two women. One had hair that was dark-blue on one side and pink on the other. The other woman had light blue-green hair with white stripes on either side over her ears. “What can I do for you?”

Blueblood remained sitting, while the two women stood up.

“Agent Sweetie Drops, Agent Lyra Heartstrings, this is Warrant Officer 1st Class Castor Searles. Castor, this is Agent Sweetie Drops.” The woman with the dark-blue and pink hair stepped forward and he shook her hand. “And this is Agent Lyra Heartstrings.” They also shook hands.

Both women were tall, as he was beginning to suspect all the Equestrian women were on this side of the portal, and had eye-attracting figures. Both sides were sizing each other up.

“I would like you to arrange for both them to be certified and trained in the use of both pistols and rifles.” He gave Castor a tight smile. “Clearly, the weapons we are used to using would put us at a disadvantage here, if we found it necessary to defend ourselves. And based on what I have seen on your telly news programs, and perusing your religious texts, it is not out of the question that some of your people might wish to do us harm. We wish to be prepared.”

Castor nodded slowly. “That’s doable, however it will take a day or so to arrange a course. Do you know what you want? I mean, do you want a course that exclusively focuses on pistols? Or a general over-view course that shows you the most common weapons and how to handle them.” He looked back and forth between the three.

Blueblood pointed at the women. “They are the experts. There is a conference room on the other side of the office. I suggest you sit with them and tell them what the choices are and then they can decide what they need.”

The women promptly headed out of the Ambassadors office. Castor trailed them. As a police officer, he knew which companies offered training, and how good those courses typically were.

It was going to be an interesting finish to the morning. And might take up a significant portion of the afternoon if they wanted to start as soon as possible.

۸- ̰ -۸

Dumbledore stood very still and stared at the purple-and-pink-haired witch. “Are you sure?” he said.

She nodded.

He closed his eyes and studied the protective charms in place around the school. There were the normal spikes that indicated the presence of mildly Dark objects — things that might severely sting or scare — but nothing that might be as dangerous as the Princess suggested. “Hogwarts’ charms do not reveal anything as serious as you say,” he said, opening his eyes.

She snorted. “Of course they wouldn’t,” she muttered. She sighed. “According to Hogwarts: A History, there is rumoured to be a curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. I suppose those charms of yours can’t find that, either?”

He shook his head, sadly. “It is a rumour. No one knows if it is true, but we have haven’t been able to keep a Professor in the D.A.D.A. position for more than a year in decades.”

She sighed. “Once is an accident, twice is a co-incidence, three times is malicious intent,” she said softly. “This has been happening for thirty-four years. I think we can safely rule out the first two options.” She looked down for a moment then back up at him. “I think Hogwarts’ charms need to be thoroughly examined and revamped.”

He nodded and stroked his beard, eyes twinkling. “That is probably so, but not something we can undertake at this moment.”

She stared at him. “In the short time I have known you, you are always so confident. Yet you are also so frequently wrong.”

His smile faltered a little bit. Minerva, once more, looked as if she were about to object, but she remained silent.

He spread his arms and said deprecatingly, “I am only a man, I do make mistakes. I am perfectly willing to admit so.” Although, he had to admit to himself, he rarely did so.

Minerva gave him a scandalized look.

Princess Sparkle looked around the room. “Nonetheless, my spells did detect something.” She paused a bit, thinking. “You do what you need to do regarding the Chamber, the girls and I will search for this ‘non-existent’ object.”

She turned and headed for the door with the others turning to follow her.

“No,” he said quietly, “I believe I will go with you. I would like to see what it is that you have found that the Hogwarts’ charms did not.” He turned to the other professors. “Would you like to join us?” They all quickly agreed.

They would soon find out whether he or the Princess was correct.

It wasn’t that far of a hike through the castle, but it took some time as Princess Twilight stopped frequently to scan the walls of the castle and make sure they hadn’t accidentally passed the object of their search.

They walked to the end of a corridor on the seventh floor, which ended crossing another corridor, and she once more recast her spell. She turned right, took a few steps, and then stopped. She cast her spell again, then turned back the way they had just come. A few steps later, she stood in front of a blank wall. Opposite that blank space was a tapestry of wizard teaching trolls ballet.

She looked up and down the corridor. “How odd, that in all of the castle I’ve seen so far, this is the only wall that is completely without doors, windows, decorations, paintings, statues, or tapestries of any kind.” She glanced at the tapestry behind her. She knew that that wall was the side wall to classrooms.

“It’s here,” she stated, hands on her hips and staring at the blank wall. “My spell says it’s here.” She transformed, once again, into her animagus, and started casting spells. And almost immediately stopped. She sighed. “According to my spell, it’s behind this wall. But also according to my spell, there is nothing behind this wall.” She walked down the corridor to the hall she had started to explore, and stared for a moment. The hall ran a short distance to the end of the castle. “It’s an awfully big space,” she said as she came back, “at least two of your classrooms deep, to have nothing in it.”

She looked up at the Headmaster. “Do you have an explanation?”

He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “No, I don’t believe I do.” He stood a moment longer, thinking, then said, “Skiffy!”

“Skiffy comes, Master Dumbles.” He stared up at Dumbledore questioningly.

“If anyone can tell us about the castle, it is the ones who take care of it,” Dumbledore said. “What is behind this wall?” he asked the house-elf, gesturing with a hand.

The house-elf looked at the wall. “It be the Room of Requirement,” he said. “We’s call it the Come-and-Go-Room.”

The Headmaster looked down at him inquisitively.

“It be where we’s hides things we’s doesn’t need.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

“Youse walks back and forth threes times thinking of what’s youse wants, like soes.” He put on a comical expression of someone thinking very hard and walked back and forth three times. As he completed his third pass, a door shimmered into existence in the middle of the blank wall.

They all stared at the house-elf and at the door.

Twilight snorted. “I wonder what else the house-elves know about Hogwarts that no one has ever asked them?” she asked rhetorically, giving the Headmaster a scornful look. “Perhaps you should take the time to ask your . . . servants . . . to show you all of the castle’s secrets?” She raised her left eyebrow inquisitively.

She took a step forward and used her magic to open the door. She went inside, followed quickly by the rest. They stared around them in wonder.

They were in a room bigger than the Great Hall, with high windows that allowed in shafts of light. The room was filled with teetering walls and buildings of broken and damaged furniture and odd things, many towered easily ten or fifteen yards high. The barely navigable paths and alleyways that cut through the piles made the room look like a miniature city. The amount of material was astonishing — the piled books would probably double the size of the Hogwarts library! There were mountains of forbidden items from Filch’s list, as well as other abandoned items. They could see hats, clothes, cloaks, jewels, congealed potions in bottles, laboratory scales, fragments that had to belong to a dragon’s eggshell, and rusting swords were just a few of the closest items they could see.

And all that was just what they could see from the entrance! The room was clearly bigger — wider, deeper, and taller — than the space it appeared to occupy, looking from the door.

“Aw right,” declared Rainbow Dash, launching herself up to the ceiling to begin circling the room.

Twilight turned and looked at the Headmaster. “I think you’ll find enough material in here that is saleable to fund the costs of checking out the Hogwarts protective charms. Perhaps even bring them up to a proper standard. I am sure there are many graduates who would love a memento of their days here.”

He nodded, eyes twinkling, as he looked around. If nothing else, Princess Sparkle had discovered a marvellous resource for the school. He would sit down and have an in-depth talk with Skiffy about this room later. He looked down at the house-elf, whose was twisting the bottom of his ear fitfully as he gazed around at the room.

“Skiffy, tomorrow, have a couple of house-elves start going through this marvellous room. Repair what can be easily repaired, and vanish what can’t. Bring any potions to Professor Snape . . . ,”

The Potions professor looked at several bottles whose contents were still sealed and sniffed disdainfully. “I doubt anything useful will be found. Except for the containers themselves,” he said disparagingly.

“. . . and any magical items to Professors Flitwick and McGonagall for their perusal.”

The two professors nodded absentmindedly, one as he examined an amulet carelessly tossed over a broken chair and the other as she studied a small table covered in feathers that had three paws and a scaled toe.

“Perhaps you can have your upper-year students assist them as class projects,” Twilight suggested to the two, receiving two more distracted nods.

“Items with a name or family crest we should see if we can return the proper owners,” he continued, addressing Skiffy again.

Above them, peeking out of a drawer in a broken cupboard, Pinkie Pie enthusiastically said, “There’s some wonderful stuff in here,” She held up a toy Griffon that had lost most of its stuffing.

Rarity was staring with distaste at a mound of clothes. “I can see why they discarded these . . . there’s no fashion sense whatsoever! And no refinement in either the work or the material.” She shuddered. “These are only suitable for rags!”

Fluttershy was cuddling a mouse. “And this poor dear has been trapped in here for who knows how long?” she said, her voice was barely above a whisper. “He’s just skin and bones!” She nuzzled him lightly, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get plenty of food when we get you home.”

Princess Sparkle began to walk slowly down the large aisle that snaked off into the chamber, glancing down every cross-aisle and studying the giant stacks of junk that surrounded them. The others slowly followed. She regarded an enormous stuffed troll with distaste, and turned down a side-path.

She looked around as they walked down the narrow aisle. She studied everything she could see, searching for the thing that had brought them to this room.

It wasn’t a straight path, but she finally stopped. On top of a nearby crate, between a large, acid blistered cupboard and a chipped bust of an ugly old warlock, was a dusty old wig and a tarnished and discoloured crown.

She stared at the tiara, her brow furrowed. “This is it,” she said quietly.

Flitwick looked over from examining a splintered cane with a brass handle that had attracted his attention, and gasped loudly.

Dumbledore was already studying the ancient artefact. Lying negligently on the waist-tall crate was a delicate-looking circlet made of several twinning silver wires holding moonstones and diamonds above a wider silver ribbon. If you looked closely, you could make out the words emblazoned on the ribbon, “Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.”

“Oh, my,” was all he said. He gently picked it up and turned it around, admiring it. “The lost tiara of Rowena Ravenclaw, I would wager,” he added almost breathlessly. Filius had moved up beside him, as had Minerva. Severus stood nearby, arms crossed and watching quietly with narrowed suspicious eyes.

Dumbledore lifted it up and started to put it on his head when it was rudely yanked from his grasp.

Princess Sparkle hovered above him, her wings flapping lazily, the circlet dangling from one foreleg. “I think,” she said evenly, one eyebrow raised, “that perhaps you should check this ‘lost’ tiara for harmful spells, first. It is, after all, cursed with hateful magic.”

At his surprised look, she added, “Or we wouldn’t be here, now would we?”

The wizards and witch gasped again. This time because of the charm Professor Flitwick had just cast on the tiara. The tiara glowed almost black, and an almost palpable feeling of evil seemed to come from it, now, as well.

He cast another spell, then said, “It has a powerful compulsion charm on it to trick whomever holds it into wearing it!”

Twilight sighed. “And I suppose it is impossible to destroy?” Her horn began to glow.

“You can’t trusst her,” a voice said softly in Dumbledore’s ear. “Sshe wants the tiara for hersself. You sshould take it from her for ssafe-keeping. You need to sstudy it, there iss much you could learn from it. Do it for the good of all.”

Dumbledore glanced around to see who had spoken. Everyone was staring fixedly at the tiara. “Sseize it, before sshe . . . ,” the sibilant voice continued.

Before he could say anything, however, Twilight tossed the tiara up into the air and a purple sphere of magic appeared around it. The voice cut off.

He shook his head, noticing that several others were doing the same. Princess Sparkle was staring intently at the trapped tiara. “Yes, this is just like I remember, only much, much more powerful, with just as powerful spells to protect it.” She slowly dropped down to the floor, hovering the purple sphere at the same place above her. She looked up at the Headmaster. “It is part of a soul.” She shuddered as the wizards and witch gasped. “A truly vile thing. It seeks to take over whomever holds it. The spells attached to it make it extremely difficult to resist.”

She sighed. “I realize this is a treasure, but it is far too dangerous to leave intact. Not with the spells that have been cast upon it. It would only be a matter of time before someone succumbed to its call and ended up a slave to the hateful soul-fragment inside. It must be destroyed. Or it will cause much destruction.”

۸-ꞈ-۸

66 — Discoveries

Sir Walker stared at the photos now splayed out across his desk. It was . . . frustrating. They showed that something had happened in the Scottish highlands, but what? The seismic trace to one side showed several repeated ground disturbances, which the scientists thought were earthquakes — not that uncommon for the area. As standard operating procedure, high-altitude surveillance planes had taken a look to ascertain if there was any surface damage, and possibly narrow down the location of the fault-line that had triggered the quakes. To his surprise, they clearly showed an oblong burn-patch almost forty meters across and sixty meters long. Not far away was another burnt area, roughly ten metres in diameter.

His first thought was an explosion. But while subsequent pictures showed numerous craters, there were no other physical signs of a large explosion, such as downed and broken trees, trees with their leaves stripped from them, or of fires which should have followed such an explosions in a forest.

And while some the scattered craters were buried under ash, others were clear of any contaminations. Which indicated that whatever had burned the area had been in the middle of the explosions.

If he didn’t know better, he would have said it looked like a limited and tight artillery barrage.

Infra-red photos showed the area to be above average in temperature, but lacked the numerous hot-spots that a forest fire’s aftermath always left behind.

Especially puzzling was that everything inside that burnt area had been reduced to ash. No fire ever reduced everything to ash — there were always a few trees that escaped destruction. Plus, trees and bushes just centimetres from the burnt area were just as green as the trees kilometres away — the edges weren’t browned by heat. It was almost like a laser had cut the edges.

The presence of a castle two kilometres away, and a small village on the opposite side of the lake beside it, was merely icing on the cake.

It was supposed to be a nearly inaccessible uninhabited valley, but it was clearly neither. Except, there were no roads leading in or out of the valley. The train track was the only way in or out, yet a check of the train schedules for the area showed no signs that that spur had ever been used. But the tracks had been used or the trees would have overgrown them long ago. Someone was keeping them clear.

He leaned back in his chair, thinking. He swept the photos and trace into their folder and set it aside.

Harry Potter, the boy who had triggered the mess with the portal was supposed to be attending an exclusive secluded school in the Scottish highlands. A school he could not find any traces of, although there were references in various documents to an exclusive school in the Scottish Highlands. Nothing, however, that gave an address or actually said where the school was.

Was there a connection? Was this it?

Had the Equestrians tried to open a portal up there and something had gone wrong?

He would discuss this with Castor at their next meeting.

In the meantime, he would order a continued surveillance of the area, just in case. And put three Harriers on station. And see if he could get the Yanks to let loose a few pictures from their satellites. Maybe they had recorded something when whatever had happened had happened.

He walked to his bookcase for the book on active and deactivated military bases to search for the closest base to this mysterious valley. And made a mental note to call Field Marshal Chapple about moving an additional company of soldiers, and several flights of attack choppers to it, if necessary.

۸-ꞈ-۸

The twins led the Gryffindor First Years down the side street toward a dirty, dingy, grungy looking place, a small building. Harry had no problem labelling it as a ‘dump.’ Unlike the Shrieking Shack, though, the walls on this place were solid and straight, and the bay windows to either side of the door unbroken. Not that you could see anything through it because of the dirt. Above the door was a rusty bracket holding a faded and battered sign, with the image of a severed wild-boar’s head leaking blood.

The Firstie’s halted uncertainly outside the door. Normally, none of them would ever have come close to the place, warned off by its appearance as an unsafe, unsavoury, and possibly dangerous place for anyone their age.

“Well, come on,” said the twins, grinning madly. Percy looked furious, but didn’t object. Apparently, while he disapproved of the place, it wasn’t on the forbidden list.

Harry and the fillies followed the twins inside.

The Hog’s Head was small, dingy, and very dirty and smelled strongly of goats. Not only had the bay windows been impossible to see through from the outside, they prevented much daylight from getting inside. Instead, there were candles sitting on the rough wooden tables. The floor seemed to be dirt, at first, but they realized that the floor was stone covered by what seemed to be centuries of filth.

In keeping with the inn’s general disreputable appearance, there was a man at the bar who concealed his head in dirty grey bandages, two shrouded figures in hoods talked with strong Yorkshire accents, and a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes sat in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.

The barman, looked vaguely familiar to Harry, was tall and thin and came out of the back room. A grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long gray hair and beard, he scowled at them.

Harry and the fillies looked around apprehensively. The atmosphere reminded them somewhat of the gloomy look of the Everfree Forest, only without the feel of imminent death lurking just a few yards away.

۸- ̰ -۸

The wizards and witch exchanged looks. Filius spoke first. “Did you hear a voice telling you that you should take it, that only you were suited to decipher its secrets? That only you could comprehend what it could teach you? Along with the desire to put it on, to see just what you could do while wearing it?” The others reluctantly nodded. He sighed and looked up at Dumbledore. “I fear she is right. If even we have difficulty resisting it, I can see it falling into the hands of someone else, someone with a weaker will. Someone who will realize it is the famous Rowena Ravenclaw Tiara, and put it on. Like you, Albus, they’ll be blinded by its potential and won’t think to check for curses,” He shook his head sadly. “They will think it must be safe, because, after all, Rowena Ravenclaw would never curse her greatest achievement. If we lock it away, someone, someday, will find it. And put it on.”

They retreated to a nearby empty classroom, the storeroom being far too flammable to attempt any resolutions in there.

“Should I take care of it?” asked the Princess, gazing at the wizards.

“No,” said Dumbledore, reluctantly, “Allow me.”

“You’re making a mistake,” came the voice, again. “You’ll be destroying a pricelesss treasure!”

He drew his wand and pointed it at the circlet.

“Please,” came the voice of his sister, “Don’t, you’ll kill me!”

He stopped and stared at the tiara. “Albus, it’ss me, Arianaaa . . . .”

“Ariana,” he said in a whisper.

“Albus?” came the distant voice of Minerva.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light, A blasting curse flew past Dumbledore’s shoulder. It hit the tiara, and bounced! Dumbledore ducked as the curse flew straight at him. There was an explosion from behind. When he looked, he saw the door to the classroom in pieces in the corridor.

Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash quickly retreated to outside the room, this was a battle in which they could play no part. An hour later, the tiara was lying on the floor in a corner of the room, glowing red-hot, scorch marks across the floor where they had tried to blast and melt it. It was still intact.

They had not escaped unscathed, with various cuts, bruises, and mild burns afflicting all of them. Most of the damage they had suffered was from dodging the reflections of their own attacks or showers of splintered rock from the room’s walls. Only Prince Armor’s quick shielding had protected them from worse.

Rowena’s circlet had fared far better in this exchange than they had. Dumbledore shuddered at the visions it had cast at him. It was only because there were six of them hurling spells at it that had allowed them to continue. While most of its attention was on one, the others could strike at it — a round-robin of assaults. That had accomplished nothing except to tire them and wear at their determination to continue.

Dumbledore stroked his beard and reflected on what they had learned. The tiara was well-nigh impossible to destroy. It attacked viciously, with considerable power, any who were close to it, especially whomever was currently trying to destroy it.

And while those attacks were limited to mind-magics, it had been capable of reflecting part of whatever physical attacks had been thrown at it extremely effectively. And it learned from its mistakes. Trying the same thing a second time at a higher level was always a painful lesson in abandoning that approach.

While he had been reluctant to destroy it, at first, he now knew they had no choice.

“There are only two things left that I can think of that could possibly destroy this,” he said thoughtfully. “The first is fiendfyre, and I am reluctant to use that for obvious reasons.”

“Too difficult to control?” said Princess Twilight.

He nodded, agreeing, “And the other might be basilisk poison — it can destroy almost anything.” He smiled. “And I know where I can get a sample of that.”

He disappeared with mild POP. A minute later he reappeared with another POP. He was holding one of the basilisk’s broken fangs in a glass jar that was hissing as the fang slowly ate through the bottom of it. “Everyone out,” he commanded, and they quickly obeyed, crowding around the edges of the classroom doorway.

As soon as they were all outside the classroom, including himself, Dumbledore used his wand to flick the fang across the room and slam it, venom-soaked-point first, into the tiara. “NO!” came Ariana’s panicked voice from the ghost-like form floating over the circlet. “PLEASE, ALBUS, DON’T! YOU’RE KILLING ME! STOP!” He held it there, tears dripping down his face, as the venom leaked out of the fang and soaked into the circlet. She started screaming, then abruptly stopped. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the tiara started to leak a tarry and dark, bloodlike substance. The tiara vibrated violently, then broke apart with a loud CRACK. Accompanying that was a faint, distant scream of pain. As it did so, Dumbledore thought he heard the faintest, most distant scream of pain, At first, Dumbledore thought it was an echo from the grounds or the castle, but then he realized it came from the fragments on the floor.

He dropped his arm to his side, and shuddered as tears continued to drip. Princess Sparkle came over and hugged, followed quickly by the other Atlantean women. Dimly, he realized, it helped.

Later, they gathered back in his office. With the exception of Rainbow Dash, they were all back to their normal wizard and witch forms. And, if Albus was being honest with himself, if he had wings like hers, he would probably spend most of his time flying, as well.

The pieces of the tiara, now cleaned and shiny, lay on his desk. He sat in his chair and studied it carefully, then cautiously said, “Reparo.” The pieces flew together with a series of clicks and snaps. He picked it up and examined it meticulously. While mostly together, there were sections that had been irreparably destroyed.

He waved his wand and one of his silver trinkets flew over to his desk. He began a complex series of wand movements, while he spoke too quietly for them to hear.

The princess watched intently.

Silver began to flow from his trinket onto the damaged tiara. When he finished, the circlet was complete. One of the diamonds was missing and a moonstone was still cracked, however.

He smiled and handed it to Professor Filius, who took it reverently.

“It has no enchantments of any kind, anymore, it is simply a tiara, albeit one once owned by Rowena Ravenclaw. I’m sure we can easily replace the diamond and moonstone from supplies here in Hogwarts. None need to know the vile use to which it was put.”

“We should place it in a display case near the Great Hall for everyone to see,” said Minerva. Severus nodded in agreement, and added dryly, “With suitable enchantments that will keep it safe from certain pranksters.”

Minerva didn’t deign to reply to that except to raise an eyebrow.

Dumbledore turned to the Atlanteans and cleared his throat. “I wish to express my gratitude at your finding this lost treasure for us. It may no longer have the rumoured spells she created for it, however it still symbolizes her House and values. Having it returned will mean a great deal to a multitude of people.”

Princess Sparkle nodded, then shook her head sadly. “I wish we could have separated them, but the spells overlaid on it were simply too powerful, and it was all or nothing.”

He sighed deeply. “Regretfully so.”

The enchantments had been quite clever, he realized. The creator had hidden them from Hogwarts’ enchantments by concealing its evil behind Rowena Ravenclaw’s enchantments. And then used her status as a Hogwarts’ founder, and as creator of the tiara, to fool the castle’s enchantments into accepting the corrupted tiara’s presence and prevent the enchantments from reporting the extremely Dark magic that leaked from concealment. It was from a Founder, therefore it belonged here. Yes, quite clever indeed.

The Princess hadn’t used the castle’s formidable enchantments for her search, instead looking for the underlying darkness. Something no one in the Headmaster’s position would ever consider doing — why should they doubt the effectiveness of the castle’s enchantments?

He looked at her a moment longer. “You said you have run into one of these once before?”

She studied him just as carefully. “Yes. Harry Potter had such a fragment embedded in his forehead.”

۸- ̰ -۸

The Weasley twins jauntily stepped up the bar and the man behind it.

“What?” he grunted.

“We’ll have seventeen shepherd’s pies, my good man,” said ‘George’ jovially.

“With fifteen butterbeers and two firewhiskys,” concluded the other, in just as cheery a tone.

“Fred,” growled Percy warningly.

After a quick look at his older brother, the second twin sighed. “Never mind the firewhiskys, make it seventeen butterbeers total.”

The barkeep glared at him, then threw his rag down as though he had been interrupted in something very important. He pulled his wand out. A stream of very dusty, very dirty bottles floated up onto the bar.

Percy spoke up using what he thought of as his ‘official’ voice — and what the twins called his prissy voice — “I believe you’ve heard that all the lunches ordered by the students are to be billed to Hogwarts?” He raised an eyebrow trying to project the image of an adult.

Harry thought he looked right ridiculous.

The barman looked into a corner behind the bar.

Harry looked that way, stood on his tiptoes, and saw a house-elf bound tightly in ropes.

“Yeah,” said the barman, “I know.”

Seeing where Harry was staring, he said, somewhat defensively, “He were trying to clean me floors.”

Harry blinked, then started grabbing the bottles on the bar and handing them back to the others. He saw Hermione scourgifying them as she passed them on. The others took the bottles gingerly, as if afraid they might contain something unpleasant.

The barkeep looked at Harry, barely stopping on his scar, and turned away. Harry blinked, startled at the wizard’s lack of reaction. It was, he thought, a pleasant change. He and the others retreated and started to select tables to sit at. Hermione pointed her wand at their table and started to scourgify it and their chairs.

“Hey, you!” called the barman, pointing at her, “None that, now! You’ll ruin me inns’ reputation.”

Hermione gave him an incredulous look.

One of the twins gave the barman a genial smile, “Not to worry, my good man, we’ll put things to right when we leave. You’ll never know we were here!”

The barman gave him a dark, narrow-eyed look, then growled, “You’d better! Or you’ll bloody-well join the house-elf!”

The man in the dirty grey bandages didn’t move other than to rap the counter with his knuckles to get another smoking drink. He gulped the smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth.

“You know what?” Ron murmured, glancing over at the bar enthusiastically. “We gotta remember this place! I think we could order anything we liked in here, I bet that bloke wouldn’t care — I’ve always wanted to try firewhisky —”

Percy, seated at the next table cleared his throat.

Ron suddenly broke off what he was saying and devoted his attention to opening his butterbeer, his ears reddening bit.

Harry looked over at the barman, who appeared to be threatening the house-elf. He watched as the house-elf scuttled into the back room. The poor thing was probably traumatized at not being able to clean.

“See,” said ‘George’ as he sat down at the table on the other side from Percy, looking at Harry, the fillies, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, “I told you we didn’t have to worry about waiting in line for lunch.”

Hermione gave him a look that clearly said she wasn’t sure that waiting in line wouldn’t have been a better choice.

Percy, and many of the other Gryffindors, looked just as unconvinced. As they did in the Everfree, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were carefully watching the other patrons and the room in general. Scootaloo, Harry was sure, was intently searching the room for any hidden pots or barrels of sap. Seated as they were at a round table, they could easily watch each other’s backs much better than they could in the Everfree.

۸- ̰ -۸

Minerva, Severus, and Flitwick were all staggered to hear what had hidden in Harry Potters famous scar. Dumbledore noted that the others were not surprised in the slightest. He just quietly sighed in resignation.

“His scar?” hazarded Minerva, with a hard glare at the Headmaster. She clearly remembered his dismissal of her concerns about not healing the scar ten years ago. And his making light of it by telling her he wouldn’t, even if he could — that scars can come in handy.

Professor Snape was frowning heavily. Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably, favouring his left buttock. He didn’t have to be a Professor of Divination to foresee that he was going to be accumulating a few more hex sores from his Deputy in the near future.

The Atlantean nodded.

“How did you get rid of it?”

“We didn’t.”

Minerva gasped, “He still has it?” she asked incredulously, obviously appalled.

The princess shook her head. “No” She had a grim look. “It was the only thing Tirek did that was of benefit when he attacked us. He ate it, we think. Or he ate the magic that let it exist and it died. One of the two.”

The others absorbed that in silence.

“And who was this Tirek? You mentioned him once before,” Dumbledore asked gently. He heard a crunching sound and looked over to see that Miss Pie and the other Atlanteans were sitting on lounge chairs, sharing a big bucket of popcorn.

“Tirek was a centaur who learned magic he shouldn’t have, magic his own people deemed too dangerous to use. It was forbidden knowledge. Once the king found out, the one who taught him lived to a very old age in the dungeons. Tirek was the king’s son and escaped any real punishment.”

Dumbledore dragged his attention back to the princess.

She sighed. “He could steal others’ magic for himself, growing bigger with each. By the time I fought him, he was as big as this castle and had absorbed almost all the magic in the kingdom. After taking my magic, he intended to go back and conquer his own people — to punish his father for forcing him to flee his homeland, and his brother for what he saw as betrayal.”

Professor Snape arched one eyebrow disbelievingly and said, “You hardly look as if you would pose much of a threat to him, if that is true.”

Applejack snorted. “Twilight’s leaving out a lot of details. She was more than enough to buck his sorry rump outa . . . ,”

Rarity spoke over her, “. . . our homeland.”

Dash was once more flying up near the ceiling, staring out the windows at the wisps of ash still rising in spots from the forest. She was making little jabbing motions with her hooves, as if she were fighting.

Twilight ignored the staring contest that ensued between the other two women. She shrugged. “Princesses Celestia, Luna, and Cadence gave me all their magic. We were actually on even terms, even after he stole all of Discord’s magic as well, which was a mistake for him.”

The wizards and witch stared at her.

She sighed. “To make a long story short — there was quite a bit of damage to the country-side, we destroyed a couple of mountain ranges, blasted craters that became lakes — he finally threatened my friends with death. I surrendered my magic to him to save them. When I forgave Discord for his betrayal of us, Tirek discovered that the powerful magic of Friendship and Harmony could not be contained with Chaos. Tirek collapsed, releasing all the magic he had absorbed back to their original owners. He is currently back in Tartarus, not much bigger than Harry.”

“That’s preposterous!” exclaimed Severus. “Magic doesn’t work that way! That sounds more like a muggle cartoon show!” He glared at her, insulted that she would try to foist such a ridiculous tale on them as if it were true

Twilight looked at him, her head tilted slightly. “It does where we come from.”

She shrugged. “And it doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not. What matters is that when Tirek took Harry Potter’s magic, it destroyed or released the soul-fragment in Harry Potter’s scar. And while his magic came back, the soul-fragment did not.” She turned back to Dumbledore.

“But before that happened, I spent most of a year studying Harry Potter, his scar, and the soul-fragment stuck to it. I discovered almost immediately that I couldn’t remove it without causing him severe pain, or perhaps even killing him. The latter seemed more likely the longer I studied it. It was too firmly entrenched.

“Fortunately, Harry Potter’s magic — well, now, having read the accounts of what you wizards think happened, I know it was his mother’s magic — easily held it at bay, it could make no progress. So I just monitored it carefully every day for any changes.” She looked over at her friends, who were sipping at their cider bottles, courtesy, no doubt, of Pinkie. “I told my friends so they could keep an eye on him when he was with his friends.” She looked back at him. “I never told him, as it would only have frightened and worried him. I intended to tell him when he was older, but Tirek took care of the problem for me. When he is mature enough, I will tell him the whole story.

“But I have always wondered how that came about. Did someone do it deliberately? Or was it a spell gone wrong?”

She was silent, toying with her lower lip in her teeth for a moment.

“After reading the stories of what happened the night Harry Potter became an orphan, my conclusion is that when this . . . Voldemort . . . attacked Harry Potter’s family and was destroyed, somehow a fragment of his soul became attached to Harry. It is the only reasonable explanation, given the facts as we know them. And it is the simplest.”

Minerva and Filius were listening with mounting horror as they realized where she was going. Severus just had a blank expression, giving nothing away of what he was thinking.

“This,” she glanced at the restored tiara, “underneath all the protective and offensive spells, felt exactly like that fragment. Without anything to fight against, it could store magic as it waited for its victim. Which is why it was so much more powerful than the one in Harry. And why we had so much trouble dealing with it — it has had ten long years to accumulate a store of magic.” She took a deep breath.

“Harry is fortunate that his fragment lacked those additional spells, or he would no longer have been Harry Potter when he found his way to us.” She looked back at Dumbledore and shuddered.

“Why this Voldemort would have fragmented his soul already, I cannot fathom. But it seems he did. I can’t help but wonder why.”

Dumbledore sank back into his chair and thought, stroking his beard. Did he dare to share his suspicions? Or his conclusions? Harry being rid of what he now knew had been a horcrux was certainly something that significantly altered all his plans, nebulous as they were. And the existence of this second horcrux, if it truly did come from the same wizard, was damning in its implications. So much had changed since the Atlanteans had come into England. And they were powerful, extremely powerful.

Did he dare to take the chance that the two were not the same wizard? Based on his own observations of the scar and tiara, he had begun to suspect that they were both created by Voldemort. Princess Sparkle's conclusions merely confirmed his suspicions.

“Albus?” Minerva said accusingly, “Is she correct?”

۸- ̰ -۸

67 — New Things

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67 — New Things

He sighed. “When I first saw Harry, while Poppy checked him over after Hagrid retrieved him from the wreckage of the house, I knew his scar contained something. What that was I could not determine. Trying to remove or heal it caused him great pain.

“Poppy and I tried everything we could think of, and failed. And the time we had was short, restricting our study even further. Fortunately, his mother’s love-magic was protecting him, and easily held back whatever was in the scar. I decided to leave it alone while I researched it. Which I have done for ten years.”

He turned to his Potions Professor. “Severus, show them, please.”

Scowling, Severus began pulling up his robe’s left arm.

“Severus was a member of Voldemort’s Death Eaters back then — he reformed shortly after Harry’s birth,” the Headmaster explained as the Atlanteans glared at the Professor.

“There,” Severus said, “There it is, the Dark Mark. The Dark Lord always marked his closest followers.”

Displayed on his forearm was a grey tattoo of a human skull with a snake coming out of its mouth and forming a figure-eight with the snake’s head at the bottom facing out, hissing malevolently.

“When the Dark Lord first disappeared ten years ago, it almost faded away, but it remained. A faint, thin darkening of the skin. One could almost hope it would fade away completely, with time.” Professor Snape said despondently. “It did not.”

“That’s why I’ve been telling everyone that Voldemort isn’t dead, merely gone,” said Dumbledore to Filius and Minerva.

They returned his look with bleak ones of their own.

“The Mark has been slowly getting darker until this summer when it suddenly darkened considerably,” continued the Portions Professor.

The Atlanteans all crowded close to look at the Dark Mark. They looked as if they were puzzled by it.

“He just gave you this?” asked Applejack suspiciously.

“It isn’t your special talent?” asked Rarity.

“Be a bit of a funny talent, wouldn’t it,” said Rainbow Dash. “Making snakes come out of your mouth, I mean.”

Pinkie Pie snickered. “Maybe he’s a colt-cuddler.”

The Princess face-palmed and sighed, as the others expressed varying degrees of laughter.

Severus scowled. “The Dark Lord is not one you can mock in safety! Be careful what you say.”

Pinkie Pie shrugged and poked at the mark with a finger.

Severus pulled his arm back, scowling even more.

“Yeppers, he’s still here!” she said. “Seems rather careless, though. Doesn’t he know you can trace him and all his followers with this?”

Everyone stared at her.

“Well, you can!” She said, surprised at their surprise. Then she giggled, stepped closer to Severus, and suddenly pressed her whole hand over the mark.

Severus yelped and jerked his arm away, cradling it against his chest.

“What did you do, you silly girl!?” he demanded, rubbing his arm.

She giggled again, “He was feeling a little dismayed about today, so I sent him a hello and a little bundle of happiness and joy to brighten his day. I fed it straight to him. I think he was sad to lose his snake friend.”

They continued to stare at her.

۸- ̫ -۸

The Director General of M.I. Five sighed as he examined the latest photos from the surveillance in Little Whinging. They showed Princess Luna, surrounded by her much smaller guards, heading back into the forest and, he suspected, to the portal. That she was happy was evident from her broad smile and the obvious bounce in her step. Whatever she had done, it had been quite successful.

The guards, of course, had no expressions except watchfulness on their surroundings.

What really took his attention, though, was the glowing globe hovering to one side of her as she walked. The close-ups of the globe showed what appeared to be a snake coiled inside. A very unhappy snake from the way he seemed to be hissing and striking at the globe.

Sir Walker dropped the photos and picked tapped his intercom. “James? Tell the military to step down. Things appear to be back to normal. Keep the Harriers on station for another two hours. If nothing further happens, they can return to base.

“And ask Castor to stop in, I have some new photos for him to see.”

He leaned back in his chair. Just what kind of snake would require that a ruler of the nation take part in its acquisition? Or was it containment? Had she been needed to capture it? And why had it been in that trunk? And how had she created that globe, not to mention transporting it when there was nothing visible holding it up.

He was missing some important pieces to this puzzle. The Equestrians were clearly up to more than just establishing diplomatic relations with England. And with the little “technology” the Equestrians had so willingly given to them, it appeared that what they had released so far, while ground-breaking in many ways, was merely small potatoes.

Just what were the Equestrians up to? How far could they trust them?

۸-ꞈ-۸

Lunch had been surprisingly good, Harry thought. No doubt due to the house-elf in the kitchen, as the barman hadn’t moved from behind the bar the entire time. He had used his wand to float their meals to them. And drinks to his other customers, who seemed a bit discomfited by the presence of so many children. Several newcomers had stopped on their way in to step back and take a look at the sign over the door, as if they thought they had entered the wrong building.

While the students gathered outside the door after lunch to discuss where they should go next, one of the twins made sure that none of the tables or chairs they had used were still clean. The barman did not seem pleased about that. But, then again, his scowl as the others had left before the twin had started dirtying the tables had been even worse. Maybe his scowl was his normal expression.

“Now,” said the other twin to them, “is the time to visit Honeydukes, while everyone else is still either having lunch or waiting to start!” He started off, “Come along, now!” They followed, like a gaggle of goslings following a gander.

True enough, Harry saw, the lines outside Madam Puddifoot’s and the Three Broomsticks were much longer than before. Even some of the homeowners had set up tables outside their doors and were serving a bit of food to hungry students.

Honeydukes, by comparison, was merely moderately crowded, with plenty of room for the Gryffindors. It helped that the inside was much bigger than the outside. Which meant, if the other places did the same thing, that the other restaurants were really crowded inside.

It appeared some students had decided that Honeydukes qualified as a restaurant and ordered accordingly, as they were seated outside on conjured tables and chairs stuffing themselves on the sweets. The Gryffindors worked their way inside.

It did not disappoint. Mouth-watering treats covered every surface. Harry recognized many from Ponyville: chunks of creamy nougat; juicy coconut ices; fat, honey-coloured toffees; chocolate varieties in countless columns and rows. There were the sweets he had seen on the train: barrels of Every Flavour Beans, Fizzing Whizzbees; levitating sherbet balls Chocolate Frogs. One wall was devoted to sweets that did things! Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum (which could fill a room with coloured bubbles that lasted for days), Toothflossing Stringmints for the fastidious — Hermione bought a box, Pepper Imps (‘breathe fire for your friends!’), Ice Mice (‘make your teeth squeak and chatter!’), toad-shaped peppermint creams (like Chocolate Frogs, except they hopped in the stomach!), fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons. One glance was all that Harry needed to know where Ron would be spending most his remaining sickle and knuts!

Harry and the fillies were impressed. This was a candy shop, not unlike the store in Ponyville run by Bon Bon, but with a much larger variety of candies and flavours. The selection of fudges wasn’t nearly as extensive as in Bon Bon’s though.

He was surprised that the shelves were so full after so many students had been through the shop this morning. Then he overheard Mr. Flume say to his wife — both were looking rather frazzled — “Give a few galleons to the house-elf and have him get us a box each off this list.” The man handed her a list as she handed him a box of Pepper Imps to replace the nearly empty box on the shelf. She hurried into the backroom.

It was amazing, Harry thought later, how much time you could spend in a candy shop — and money.

The twins, oddly enough, were the voices of reason. “Don’t spend all you knuts here,” they said. “You’ll want to save a few for Zonko’s Joke Shop. If you don’t you’ll regret it! And we can always stop in on our way back to the castle later this afternoon.”

After most of the students had finished stuffing their pockets with sweets to take back to the castle, they headed off to Zonko’s.

Zonko’s was a prankster’s paradise. There were exploding quills (“after the third word, BANG”), stacks of Exploding Snap decks, fake mice (“they look and sound REAL, they even poop chocolate sprinkles!”), winged catapults, Fanged Frisbees, Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, screaming yo-yos, dungbombs, stink pellets, blood-quills that wrote in fake blood, insulting mirrors, chocolate-flavoured laxatives, and much, much, more. And their fireworks took up almost one entire wall by themselves.

All-in-all, it was an easy place in which to spend an hour or so perusing the inventory. Harry made sure to snatch one of the dwindling supply of catalogues at the counter after making a few purchases. Pipsqueak would be thrilled at getting some of the fireworks. And the insulting mirror would be the hit of the school-playground, he was sure.

۸- ̬ -۸

The Headmaster closed his eyes and thought. “When I left Harry with his relatives . . . ,” he finally said, almost a minute later.

The Atlanteans suddenly stiffened.

He looked up at Princess Sparkle’s suddenly hostile expression. He felt he had better explain.

“It was the only safe place for him, at the time. His mother’s sister provided an anchor for the protection his mother’s love gave him. I was able to extend it to the entire household. As long as he lived there, he, and they, were safe from Voldemort’s followers — the Death Eaters, as they fashioned themselves, couldn’t harm him.

“As a result, Harry could grow up in a normal household without having to fear that he, and his family, would be attacked at any moment.

“And Voldemort had followers who I knew,” he said gently, “would try to find him. And, in fact, are still trying.” He shook his head sadly.

“If I hadn’t acted as I did, when I did, the Wizengamot would have gotten involved. They would have turned the boy into a political quaffle as the various factions fought over whose home he should go to. And gain access to his family’s wealth. It is entirely possible he would have been placed with a family that surreptitiously supported Voldemort — and then the boy might have had a ‘regrettable accident’ one day. Or, just as dangerous, be turned into one of his supporters.”

He shook his head at the thought.

“And even if he went to a neutral family, or one of my supporters, that family would have been the target of reprisals from unrepentant Death Eaters. Eventually, one of the Death Eaters would have succeeded in getting to Harry.”

He paused to consider his next words.

“Placing him with a family outside England was just as problematic. Voldemort’s supporters would have easily tracked down my foreign friends and acquaintances. And then tracked down their friends, looking for a toddler with messy black hair who suddenly appeared as a foster child. Or a child with a cosmetic charm or two.

“His mother’s sister was the only real choice. And, being muggles, they would not be able to access and plunder his family’s wealth.”

He sighed tiredly. “I did put up spells to monitor the boy’s physical and mental health, as Minerva can tell you, but, unfortunately, I made a mistake and the spells failed to work as I had intended. Minerva has always said I should have personally checked on his welfare, but I trusted my spells to keep me apprised. That was a mistake — one I deeply regret. The spells I had so carefully built to protect him actually prevented me from noticing the things that would have warned me to take a closer look.”

He looked into Princess Sparkle’s eyes. “I shall never forgive myself for that failing, and what it meant to Harry Potter. I don’t know how I can redress the grave wrong I have done. But I shall spend the rest of my life trying.”

Twilight slowly nodded, still unhappy with the situation, but recognizing, he hoped, that he was sincere.

He took a deep breath.

“I knew Voldemort had explored into some very dark magic. He had told his followers he had made himself immortal, that he couldn’t die. But I didn’t know exactly what he had done. There are many ways to extend one’s life, to become, for all intents and purposes, immortal. The Flamels have done so with the Philosopher’s Stone. But what had Voldemort done? After years of research, and Professor Snape’s assistance,” He nodded towards the wizard, “I suspected one path he might have taken, but the evidence was insufficient, and flimsy at best. And to visit Harry while he was at the Dursleys for another study of his scar would possibly expose him to danger. So I chose to wait.”

He looked down at Ravenclaw’s diadem. “This shows me which path he actually took. Whether Harry’s scar was an accident or deliberate we shall probably never know for sure. Although, I think it was accident as there were no signs of any sort of ritual in the nursery where Harry and his deceased mother were found.”

The Headmaster shook his head. “We call things that contain pieces of a person’s soul horcruxes,” he said slowly as Severus shook his sleeve back down, “Harpo the Foul was the first European to use one, at least that we know of.” He shook his head. “As long as part of your soul remains on this plane, you cannot pass on to the next great adventure. You can hold off Death forever.” He looked over at Professor Snape, who was rubbing his arm. “Thus, the Dark Mark has never faded. And the more powerful Voldemort becomes, the darker the mark becomes.”

He looked back at Princess Sparkle. “To cut a piece off of your soul is a great evil, it makes you a bit less than human, a bit less than sane. To do so more than once is unthinkable. Had he so splintered his soul with casually killing innocents, something he was known to do, that part of his soul had accidentally split off and attached to Harry? Or had he done it deliberately and the ritual had gone wrong?” He paused. “I suppose it does not matter.” He stroked his beard lightly.

“We know two fragments of his soul have been released.” He took a deep breath. “And he, himself, has the remainder. So he has done this once on purpose. At least.” He pursed his lips and stroked his beard as he stared up at Twilight.

“And, then, the question becomes, how many times has he done this? Was the fragment in Harry an accident? Or had he already created one and wanted Harry for his second, to make three? Or was Harry to be the fifth? Or the seventh? Or the eleventh? All are magical numbers. Which did he select?”

“Oh,” said the princess, “He’s made at least three on purpose. Counting himself and Harry, that makes five pieces.”

Everyone stared at Twilight.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s obviously a simple geometric progression.”

They stared at her.

She sighed. “Harry was the last one he . . . created. Whether on purpose or not doesn’t matter. Harry was the last one. The piece I examined was tiny. That alone, of course, doesn’t help.

“If you assume he started with an intact soul, then Harry’s piece is the last one in the series. With only two data points, however, you cannot draw any conclusions. The tiara, however gives us a third point.”

She started pacing. “Unfortunately, we don’t have an absolute size for the soul, but we can assume that the value of one represents an intact soul. Now, I have no experience with soul-splitting, and haven’t read any books that covered the subject, or even mentioned it. Nonetheless, I have seen these two soul-fragments, and their relative sizes.”

She stared at the Headmaster for a moment.

“One might assume that the average soul-fragment is the size of the one that was in the tiara. However, Harry’s was demonstrably smaller, so the tiara-size can’t be the default.”

The wizards and witch exchanged puzzled looks. Severus slowly nodded in understanding.

“And neither can Harry’s soul-fragment be considered the default fragment-size, as then you have to explain why the tiara’s fragment was so much larger. So, a simple linear slope describing Voldemort’s remaining soul-size is contra-indicated. Unless he has done this at least thirty times on purpose, if the tiara fragment was his first horcrux.”

The wizards and witch look staggered at that conclusion.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and slowly said, “Creating a horcrux is supposedly extremely painful. I’m not sure one could remain sane after that much pain.”

She nodded at him. “So, again, that is contra-indicated as a possible solution. Assuming that is true, of course.” She started pacing again.

“The next most likely progression is a geometric progression, where each data point is the remaining size of both Voldemort’s soul and that horcruxes’ soul-fragment. That is, each time he did it, it split his soul in half. Again assuming that one represents an intact soul, based on the size difference between the tiara’s and Harry’s soul-fragments, we can place Harry’s fragment at one position and see if the tiara fragment would fit any of the remaining positions. If we start with three, the tiara doesn’t fit in the second position, the tiara is too small. Moving to five, however, works perfectly if you assume that the tiara is the very first split. Meaning, after including Harry’s accidental fourth fragment, that Voldemort has only one-sixteenth of a soul remaining. And that there are only two more fragments to locate.”

They stared at her. She stopped and looked at them a moment before she returned to pacing.

“Unless the fragments are random in size when the soul is split. In that case, I would expect the ritual used would seize upon the smallest fragment available. That would preclude accidentally sealing the main soul away and rendering the wizard a mental vegetable.

“If the fragment sizes are random, then it is impossible to predict where the tiara sits on the slope. And impossible to determine the number of horcruxes that might exist. Nor determine how big Voldemort’s remaining soul is.

“If the next horcrux we find doesn’t fit any of the available positions in a geometric progression, then the ritual must create random-sized pieces. That leaves us no way to determine how many horcruxes he has made, or the order in which they were made.

“However, if we find a fragment that is larger than the diadem, but still fits in a geometric progression, with all the other fragments shifted down one or more places, then we similarly can’t determine how many times he has done this because we don’t know the size of the very first horcrux.

“In either of those cases, our task becomes significantly more difficult.

“Nonetheless, given the relative sizes of the two horcruxes, the odds that the two soul-fragments I have seen would fit a geometric progression, out of a possibly infinite number of permutations of random splits, are so low as to preclude that as a reasonable assumption. Especially given the presumed low-number of times that the ritual can be executed without destroying the creator’s sanity in its entirety, which would mean he would be incapable of creating more.”

She shrugged. “We need to find another soul-fragment and see how big it is. If it fits any of the open slots on the geometric slope, then the geometric progression is confirmed as the most likely solution. If so, then we know that Voldemort has split his soul three times, on purpose, making four horcruxes.

“If the soul-fragment is larger than the other fragments, but still fits a geometric progression, then we need to determine which number of splits he desired, or which piece was his very first horcrux.

“Whether Harry was intended to be his fourth horcrux, leaving his soul split into five pieces, is unknown, but not likely based on that soul-fragment’s lack of any protection spells.” She nodded her head at Dumbledore, “And the lack of any evidence of a ritual at the Potter home.”

She tilted her head slightly and waited for their reactions.

Dumbledore stared at her for several moments, sighed, then shrugged. “It will take some time to research and track where Tom Riddle went after he left Hogwarts, and what he might have done.” He looked up at the strangled gasp that he heard from Minerva. “Oh, yes, that is his name, his original name, before he adopted the moniker Voldemort — Steal from Death in French.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Tom Riddle was such a promising student. He soaked up knowledge like a sponge, and was powerful beyond his years. His time here at Hogwarts was exemplary. He was at the top of every class. He was made a Prefect, then Head Boy. He graduated with honours and friends in all the houses — although I suspect he considered them as nothing more than tools for his use.

“He even received an award for special service to the school for catching the instigator of a series of attacks and one death.” He looked out the windows at the thin trail of smoke still visible in the sky. “We now know from the basilisk that that was wrong, that the student he accused was innocent. It was quite likely that it was Tom Riddle who released the basilisk all those years ago.”

He sighed. “I suspected that Tom wasn’t what he portrayed to the school, but he had several teachers quite enamoured of his talent and glib tongue.” The Headmaster shrugged. “But there was a darkness in his soul. I could sense it. And his actions at the orphanage he lived at were telling. Unfortunately, I was merely the Transfigurations Professor. Headmaster Dippet, and many of the other professors, would have nothing of my suspicions. I could only watch and hope I was wrong.” He leaned back in his chair. “After Tom graduated, I lost track of him. I’d hear a rumour that he was working here or there, and then all word of him vanished.

“He applied for the job of Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts in 1971, five years after I became Headmaster.” Dumbledore looked out the window. “He left after he was unable to explain why he wanted the position when he clearly had no interest in teaching. Since that interview, Hogwarts has been unable to keep a Professor in the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts for more than a year.”

“I suspect that he placed a curse on the position after his interview was over and he was leaving the castle, but I have been unable to find its anchor.” He shook his head wryly. “I checked the classroom, office, and quarters assigned to the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for hidden runes or Dark Artefacts repeatedly, to no avail. For three years, I changed the name of the class to Dark Arts Defence. I even changed the rooms and office to new locations. Nothing worked.”

He looked at the restored tiara that Filius held. “Perhaps that was the anchor. We shall discover if that is so either this year or next.”

He sighed and stroked his beard. “No matter.” He looked the frowning professor. “I am afraid we shall have to put that away. We don’t want to alert any of Voldemort’s followers that we have discovered his secret. Or him, when he does return,” He held out his hand, and Filius, reluctantly, handed him the tiara. Dumbledore opened a drawer in his desk and placed the circlet into it. He closed the drawer and tapped it with is wand.

He looked up at them and smiled. “There, only I can open that drawer, and it cannot be forced without destroying what is in it. It shall remain our secret until this matter with Tom is resolved. Later, I shall place a fidelius charm on it and none shall know Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem’s location.”

They all nodded.

“I shall begin going through my memories to see what clues I may find there.” He looked over at his pensieve, then to his Transfigurations Professor. “I know how busy you are already, Minerva, but I shall have to depend on you more while I am preoccupied with that.”

She grimaced. “I understand, Albus.”

“Perhaps,” suggested Twilight, “You could have three of your Seventh Year students take over teaching one class a week for the First, Second, and Third Year students. Or have them check the assignments the children hand in. You could call them Professorial Assistants. It’s what we do at Celestia’s School for Gifted Students.”

The professors looked at her in surprise.

“An excellent suggestion,” the Headmaster said. “Minerva, do you think you could select your three best students? We could offer them an honorarium as an incentive.”

She frowned thinking, and slowly nodded. “Yes, I think that would work.” She paused, then added, “And we could do the same for the things the house-elves find. A bit of challenging extra-curriculum work that would look good on their resumes. Anything they can’t handle, they can refer to me.”

“Oh, yes,” said Filius, energized at the idea. “That would be excellent experience for the Seventh Years.”

“What about the enchantments on Hogwarts?” queried the Princess. “And hunting for other objects that shouldn’t be here?”

Dumbledore looked at her. “What would you have me do? I can either focus on discovering what Tom has done, or on Hogwarts. And getting the Ministry involved would require telling them things we wish to keep secret.”

He sighed. “Plus, having the Ministry involved in Hogwarts enchantments would open us to Tom’s supporters building holes in the coverage or sabotaging what the others do.”

She stood quiet for moment. “Would you object to having a few of the Professors from Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Students come here to examine the enchantments?”

۸- ̬ -۸

A.N. * italics followed by an asterisk are paraphrased quotes from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling.

68 — Obstacles

Dumbledore managed to conceal his surprise. He stroked his beard, thinking. This would be an unparalleled opportunity to meet the Atlantean experts for an extended time. It wouldn’t involve the Ministry, which eliminated an entire realm of problems, and allowed the enchantments to be upgraded without taking significant amounts of time away from his other research.

“That is a most generous offer, Your Highness,” he said nodding. “When might we expect them?”

She worried her lower lip with her teeth for a moment. “I’ll have to get Princesses Celestia and Luna to okay everything and agree on whom to send.” She paused, thinking. “Possibly by Monday?”

He nodded. “Excellent, that will give us time to prepare rooms and an explanation for the students.”

“And tell the students that you are going to be searching the school for those ‘Dark’ artefacts and that any found will be confiscated,” she added.

He stroked his beard for a moment. “Yes, that is most definitely an excellent suggestion.” He smiled happily.

“It has been a most enlightening day, Princess Sparkle. I thank you again for your assistance in capturing the basilisk, and,” he looked down at the drawer in his desk, “for finding Rowena Ravenclaw’s Lost Diadem.” He smiled gratefully as she nodded. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss before we all start on other tasks?”

She blinked and frowned. A scroll flew up from her briefcase and she started running down the list it contained. “hmm, check, check, check,” she mumbled, her quill making the appropriate marks on her scroll.

Prince Shining Armor just smirked, and said, “That’s my sis,” while shaking his head ruefully.

Miss Rarity sighed, Applejack rolled her eyes, and Pinkie Pie just giggled and finished putting the last layer of frosting on a cake that was sitting on one of the tables by the couch. Rainbow Dash, still in her pegasus form, was once more floating near the ceiling and looking out the window. This time she was flying on her back in a position reminiscent of a cat on a bed hanging its head off the side. A clearly impossible feat. He shook his head at the sight.

She had made it almost to the end as they silently watched when she suddenly stopped. She gritted her teeth, but then continued. Finally she stopped and looked up. “Almost everything scheduled for the day is done.” Oddly, she did not look happy about that. The quill was making additional notes on the paper.

“Yes?” he said inquiringly, lifting an eyebrow.

“Show me where the Cerberus is so I can check the charms. And tell me what he is guarding.”

Dumbledore sighed. He had hoped she had forgotten that particular item from yesterday. He looked at the three professors, all of whom looked ready to object, and shook his head slightly. They stayed silent. He stood, pushing his chair back. “Then we should be off. Fortunately, it is not far from here.” He ushered the group down the stairs.

“A good friend of mine, Nicholas Flamel . . . ,” he started as he led them to the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side.

۸-~-۸

Spike answered the knock at the Castle door. A unicorn mare was standing there. She had a light-blue coat and two-tone purple mane and tail.

“Hi! How can I help you?”

Hesitantly, she asked, “Is Princess Twilight Sparkle in?”

“Nope. She’s off doing something important.”

The mare looked crestfallen. “Oh. I was hoping she could tell me something about the portal in the Everfree.” She worried her lower lip a moment. “I was just over there, and the guard said they were hiring.” She looked down at the dragon and frowned. “I wanted to find out a bit more before I applied — I’m new in town, you see, and I need a job.”

“Pshaw,” he said, waving a claw, “I can answer your questions.” He puffed out his chest a bit, “I’ve even went through the portal with Twilight the first time!”

“Really?” she said, surprised. “You must be very brave to explore a world through a portal.” She looked at him in awe.

He blushed. “I suppose I was,” he said. “Well, come on in, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Are you sure that’s alright?” She glanced at the two guards, one on either side of the castle door.

He waved a claw again, “It’s fine, Twi said they’re gonna need a bunch of ponies for the embassy, so it’s not like it won’t be big news when the word gets out.”

She walked into the entry-way as he shut the door.

They went into the kitchen where he fixed them tea. Then he spent the next several hours regaling her with his adventures on the other side. She was especially interested in the wizards and witches he had seen. And how the ponies had paid for everything.

۸-_-۸

The Gryffindors next stop was Scrivenshafts. While it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the other two stores, it did have some really ace items: the Self-Inking quill that did any colour you wanted; Ink-Be-Gone Erasers (“Sucks up ink-spills, splotches, and mistakes, but leaves what you want!”) — Harry knew that was one he was going to buy; Never-Ending scrolls (“Tap your wand to cut-off the length you want!”) — another useful item; Self-Spelling Quills (“Never misspell a word again!”); Self-Writing Quills (“Just tell it the subject!”); Smart-Answer Quills (“Just like the Self-Writing Quill, but smarter!”); Grammar-Checking Quills (“Says what you mean without errors!”); Ultimate Quills (that did what all the others did); Sugar Quills (“Snack while you write!”); Scroll Storage Boxes; and much, much more.

Still, it didn’t take all that long for the Gryffindor cohort to finish perusing the selections on hand. Although they did have to drag Hermione out, protesting she wasn’t done yet.

“Well,” George said — Harry had decided that he would just start calling the first one to speak George — “There’s only one place left to see.”

“Not that we’ll spend any time there really,” said Fred.

“But you should all meet the proprietor,”

“It’s only proper.”

The twins leading, and Percy following to make sure they didn’t lose any stragglers, they set off for the next destination, The Three Broomsticks. This time, late afternoon, the lines were gone.

“Rosy, my love,” called out George as they filed inside.

Truth be told, Harry was starting to get tired. Except for lunch, they had spent the entire day on their feet. It was with great relief that the Gryffindors settled themselves into sparkling, clean chairs around sparkling, clean tables.

The witch sauntered over, eyes sparkling and a genuine smile on her face. Harry wondered how she managed that. She had to have been running non-stop all day, just like the other shopkeepers! And most of them were starting to look a bit ragged around the edges.

“We’ll have seventeen butterbeers please,” Fred said.

It was a lot like the Leaky Cauldron, only bigger, cleaner, nicer, better lit, rather welcoming . . . . On second thought, Harry decided, it was like the Leaky Cauldron only in that it had four walls, a roof, and served alcohol and lunches.

On the other hoof, “There’s a reason for the Leaky Cauldron to look like that,” Mr. Weasley had earnestly told them last month.

“It’s the muggles, don’t you see? The ones with only a bit of magic, right? They can see the pub, but having them wander into Diagon Alley would cause a ruckus. So, instead, they see a dirty, dingy pub. Puts them right off, it does, and they aren’t inclined to go in. If they do go in, it looks like something they don’t want, and they leave.” He gave a smile. “And if they’ve already had a bit too much when they come in and want to stay, Tom gives them a subtle hint with his wand, and off they go.

“It’s all a part of keeping ourselves secret, right?”

They had duly nodded in understanding.

But that made The Three Broomsticks all that more interesting to look at. It had a high ceiling, with two staircases, one at either end at the back. Each went up to a wide balcony on that side’s wall that had tables overlooking the main floor. There was a connecting balcony, with tables, over the bar. The staircases also each had a corridor leading away from them farther into the building. “There’s meeting rooms and apartments down those,” George had explained.

“Over the kitchen and storage rooms. Right nice I hear,” added Fred.

“Toilets are under the stairs.”

“Wizards on the left,” Fred pointed.

“And witches on the right,” George pointed.

Their arms crossed each other.

The next half-hour was spent in idle conversation and sipping their drinks while watching Rosemerta bounce around the room filling orders and talking to her customers. Well, watching the buxom Rosemerta was what Percy and the twins did. Harry and his friends spent their time comparing notes on what they had seen and bought. And what they planned to buy from the catalogues they had picked up. And making use of the facilities under the stairs.

۸-_-۸

“Let see if I understand this,” the princess said. “You have the single most valuable artefact in Magical Europe, maybe even in this world, in your possession.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely.

“And you think that a dark wizard, working with a spirit Tom Riddle, is after it?

Dumbledore nodded, again.

“And instead of sealing it away somewhere where it can’t be found or accessed, you are keeping it in this school?” Her voice had risen a bit at the end.

He nodded again, and said, “Hogwarts is the most secure and safest location in all of England, not even Gringotts is as secure.” He smiled.

She shook her head, as if to clear it, and continued, “Behind a bunch of obstacles designed to slow down this dark wizard.”

“That is correct.”

“But not stop him or incapacitate him?”

“Yes, precisely.”

“Because you want to capture him and get him to tell you where this Tom Riddle is?”

He nodded. “Yes, you grasp my strategy perfectly.”

She, and the other Atlanteans, stared at him wide-eyed.

She looked at the other three professors. They just stared back at her.

She closed her eyes.

Dumbledore noticed her lips moving slightly, as if she were counting.

She took a breath and opened her eyes to look at him. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BUCKING MIND?” she yelled. They all winced. She was standing stiffly, hands at her sides, fists clenched, feet about shoulder-width apart, her head slightly inclined in his direction.

He looked at her nonplussed. He noticed that her heretofore nicely coiffed hair had several hairs sticking straight out. Another joined the rest as he watched. And her hair, as a whole, almost seemed to be floating.

But that had to be his imagination.

And her eyes were a bit wider than normal.

“I assure you, Princess Sparkle, that . . . .”

“You know what you are doing?” she finished, half-hissing at him.

He stopped, startled.

“Just as you knew the students would not explore this corridor, or what lies behind this door? Just as you knew there was no way to get to the Chamber of Secrets? Just as you knew that I was exaggerating my estimate of the size of the basilisk?”

More hairs popped out of her hairdo.

“Twi?” came the hesitant voice of Applejack. “You might wanna calm down a bit?”

“Just as you knew there were no horrendously dangerous and hate-filled cursed items in the castle?” continued the princess. “Just as you knew it was perfectly safe to put on the cursed tiara?”

“Uh, Twilight,” said Rarity, stepping over and placing her hand on Princess Sparkle’s arm.

“Based solely on your record over the last twenty-four hours, I would say you DON’T know as much as you think you do!”

Dumbledore drew himself up stiffly. “Your Highness . . . .”

“Just on the spur of the moment,” she said in a in a low tone, “what would you do if, while you’re at a Wizengamot meeting, your dark wizard were to imperius a few students into walking into that room with the cerberus. And then, while he’s occupied with eating them, sneaking past into the next obstacle with a few others? It’s what Queen Chrysalis or King Sombra would have done.”

The other Atlanteans looked a little sick at the thought, but they all nodded.

“Would you even know he had entered this room? I think not, or you already would have known just how many students had taken a look at the cerberus!”

“He would never do that. It would prematurely reveal his presence to the public and the Ministry,” Dumbledore replied carefully. “It would be solid evidence, and the Ministry would begin to fight back, to counter his plans before he could connect with his former supporters.”

“Oh?” she said. “You have that in writing on a contract, I take it?” she said sarcastically. “I’m sure, that with only one-sixteenth of a soul, he is just as sane and calm as any other wizard or witch. Whom, I now suspect, have the self-control and common sense of a suicidal lemming!” She rolled her eyes.

“And once past your cerberus, he would work his way through to this artefact, wasting the lives of your students along the way. Why would he care if it took ten, twenty, thirty, or forty lives for him to get to this artefact? Especially if they’re all muggle-born or half-bloods. In the past, he had no problems with his Death Eaters slaughtering those children and their parents for entertainment!

“King Sombra spent tens of thousands of lives creating and keeping his empire, Queen Chrysalis spent the lives of thousands of her changelings, her own children, trying to get what she wanted. Why should your Tom Riddle do any different, if this thing is so valuable?”

She stopped and took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. She placed her hand on her chest, then she exhaled, moving her hand away. She took another breath and repeated this several times.

“Right. Let’s do this. Let’s see just how hard it is to get to this thing.” Her features hardened into determination as she turned to face the door.

Dumbledore stared at her, his face a bit heated at her tirade. It had been a long time since anyone had berated him so thoroughly. And, he had to admit, with some justification. She was wrong in her conclusions, but still, there was a bit of truth hidden there.

She flung open the door, not even noticing that it had been locked much more securely than a simple alohomora could open, and stepped inside.

Fluffy stood and started growling.

She transformed into her alicorn form, and three-headed dog started to look confused.

She nodded her head and music started playing in the room, a sweet lullaby of some kind. A lullaby Dumbledore had never heard — “Come little children, . . . ,” he heard her softly sing. Fluffy stared at her for a moment, then sat down. Slowly he settled lower until he was lying down.

The rest of them, the professors and the Atlanteans, watched quietly from the corridor behind the Princess.

Then he lowered his heads until all three were resting on the floor. His eyelids slowly began to droop, with first one head and then the next closing. It took less than five minutes before all three heads were snoring.

The princess strode inside confidently. Her magic reached out to lift the sleeping dog and gently moved him to the back of the chamber. A blue shimmer seemed to come between them and the cerberus.

“There,” she said, “That will prevent any noise from reaching him, as well keeping the music playing for the next hour or so.” She turned and looked back at them. “Well, come on.” She quickly strode over to the trap door. She stared down at it and sighed.

They slowly followed behind her. Fluttershy ran over to the Cerberus and began cooing at him and gently petting his heads.

“You didn’t even hide the trapdoor!” she said accusingly. “At least you put a magical lock on that door,” she pointed back at the corridor with a hoof, “That will not open to a simple alohomora. However, I’d have the trapdoor move to a random location on far half of the room each time someone opened the door to come in. Then I would block the walls, floor, and ceiling with a spell so that somepony like King Sombra, Queen Chrysalis, or myself couldn’t just sink through the floor like this.” Which she proceeded to do.

Dumbledore exchanged surprised looks with Severus. Minerva said, “She actually walked through the wall of the witches’ toilets on the second floor to find the pipes that led to the basilisk.” Filius nodded.

A moment later, the princess was back, flapping her wings. “Ugh,” she said. “That’s awkward.” She looked back at Dumbledore. “Of course, my trapdoor would be a fake and lead to a trap from which he cannot escape. I’d make it a spirit trap, too, just to be safe.

“The real trapdoor I would place on the ceiling, which would certainly slow down most wizards.” She glared at Dumbledore, and then looked down at the trapdoor, “Well, at least this has an alert spell on it,” she said drily.

He nodded.

She opened the trapdoor and jumped down. A moment later, a bright light shone from the open door. Her voice drifted up, “Okay, just jump down, I’ll catch you.”

Dash just grinned and dove, tucking her wings close as she passed through the trapdoor. The others started jumping in. Fluttershy was the last to make the trip, gently settling beside the princess as the rest stared at the small tangle of vines slowly creeping their way closer.

The purple alicorn stared at him, puzzled.

“Pomona’s idea. It’s Devil’s Snare, it would entangle and trap anyone who jumped into it,” Dumbledore explained. “It fears fire. In another month it will fill this chamber.”

She sighed. “And the first thing any wizard or witch would do in the dark is to LIGHT THEIR WAND! And then a fire when they see a plant trying to capture them. Which effectively means this is no obstacle to a wizard or witch.” She shook her head sadly as they moved out of the room and into a short corridor. “I would have placed light-and-heat-loving vines and made him crawl around in the dark looking for the doorway out while trying to evade the vines. And that door I would place partway to the ceiling. And put up an anti-flying charm.”

The next room they encountered had what they at first thought were birds, but Dash’s keen eyesight quickly corrected that impression — those were keys with wings flying around in it. Hundreds of keys, flitting back and forth, swooping down and shooting up, swirling around in a great flock of glittering metal.

“Filius’ contribution,” the Headmaster said quietly. “You must catch the key to open the door.”

She sighed again, and walked across the room to the door, stopped a moment, then walked through the door.

Dumbledore winced as she opened the door from the other side. They followed her across, with Dash detouring into chasing the keys for a moment.

“Come on Dash,” said Applejack, “Or you’ll get left behind.”

Dash squawked and dove through the door as Applejack was closing it, a mass of keys chasing her. The two tumbled into Pinkie Pie who was trailing the others as the keys thudded into the door behind them. A short argument erupted over whose fault it was that they ended up in a pile. Pinkie Pie just giggled throughout it.

The chess set caught their attention, next.

“And this is Minerva’s work. A rather excellent set of transfigurations.”

“Oh, neat!” cried Pinkie Pie and charged out onto the board and started climbing the pieces. They started moving the moment she touched them. The knights’ horses began to hoof at the squares they stood upon, the kings and queens turned as if to look at them, as did the bishops.

Rainbow Dash flew over it to the other door and waited for them. They started across the chessboard to join Dash. The chess-pieces ominously began to move towards them, lifting their weapons threateningly. The princess just shook her head, and frowned. A blast of light came from her horn and swept across the board, sweeping across the room and leaving a huddle of limp chessmen slumped along the wall to one side.

Pinkie Pie shook her head beside Dumbledore, “They weren’t nearly as much fun as I thought they would be.”

As the pieces slowly recovered, the group walked into the short passageway to the next room.

“Oh, my word! What is that smell?” asked Rarity holding her hand over her nose. Pinkie Pie was wearing a muggle World War II gas mask, once more in pink camouflage. And looking blandly at the rest of them staring at her.

“It’s a troll,” explained Dumbledore, “provided by Quirinus.”

Twilight didn’t even slow down. A purple bubble shimmered around the troll that had been napping against the wall beside the other door. They dimly heard its roars and thumps as it tried in vain to break out of its temporary prison.

The next room had a table with potion bottles on it.

“Severus came up with this,” Dumbledore said. “Most wizards are terrible at logic puzzles.”

The flames covering the two doors were a bit startling, but, again, the princess didn’t slow down as she once more walked through the wall and around the flames covering the door, demonstrating how useless that particular challenge was. She came back out on the other side of the door a moment later. She walked over to the potion vials and studied the note on the table, then the vials. After a moment, she nodded and pointed. “This one should have the correct potion.” Then she asked hopefully, “Unless you were extremely clever and made all the potions instant-sleeping potions?”

Severus slowly shook his head, and then said, “As you have already demonstrated, you could avoid the puzzle completely.” He took out his wand and pointed it at the far wall. The black flames went out.

They walked straight into the next room — there was no passageway this time.

She turned to the Headmaster. “So, if you were in one of the monthly meetings of the Wizengamot, as Chief Warlock, could you have gotten here before I made it here?” She raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

Dumbledore had to admit it, “No, I’m afraid not. I expected it to take anyone at least an hour, perhaps longer, to make it through all the obstacles.” He looked at the floor. While her walking through walls was completely unexpected, her solutions to the chess game and the troll were blindingly obvious, now. And, she had been correct in her evaluation of Pomona’s Devil’s Snare, an extremely simple trap, one he could now see even a First Year would have figured out without difficulty. Only Filius’ key-room and Severus’ potions puzzle would have taken a knowledgeable, and skilled, wizard any real time to solve.

“Then, I would assume your dark wizard could also do it as fast as I did.” She looked around. “So, where is the artefact? And what is the obstacle? If it’s like the others, it will take only a few moments to bypass it, as well.”

Dumbledore looked around, too. “Alas,” he said, “the artefact is not in here. I . . . .”

“Not here?” Twilight said astonished.

“Yes, I . . . .”

She grinned, suddenly happy. “That’s brilliant!” She started trotting in place. “He goes through all those obstacles, no matter how fast, and there’s no artefact here!” She spun in place. “Yes! Finally!” She started to look earnestly around the room, her forehead furrowed in concentration. “So, where’s the trap?” She gasped. “Is it the room?” She started casting a few spells.

“No,” Princess Sparkle said, after a few moments, puzzled. “The walls in this chamber have no spells to contain anything.” She turned slowly. “Hogwarts’ anti-apparation spells and anti-portkey spells are up. And there’s no floo. So, he can’t escape the room magically. But what’s to prevent him from simply walking back out once he realizes the thing he wants isn’t here?”

Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably. “I haven’t placed the final obstacle, actually.”

“Ah,” she said, still happy. “You’re still working on that.” She nodded, then paused a moment, one hoof in the air, thinking. “As long as he knows it is inaccessible he’ll wait to do anything? Is that what you hope?”

He smiled. “Yes, that is essentially correct. He won’t make a move until he knows the item has been placed behind the final obstacle. To move before then would end in catastrophe, for him.”

She frowned again. “And how will he know that? You can’t exactly take out an ad in the Daily Prophet, now can you?”

۸-~-۸

Author's Note

Yeah, Dumbledore and the professors really take it on the chin, here. However, their obstacles really are too simplistic. Each and every reader out there can come up with ways to improve the obstacles created by some of the finest minds in Wizarding England. Which means the average muggle is smarter than the smartest wizards.

Or that wizards truly lack common sense. Just consider that if Dumbledore had simply disillusioned the trapdoor, Harry & Co. — and the rest of the school — would never have suspected that there was more to be discovered. As far as they would have been concerned, the three-headed dog was the only item of interest in that room! Or better yet, and what Twi later suggests, is use the age-line spell to mark off the end of the corridor and then no student could even approach the door to Fluffy’s room!

Of course, that destroys the entire plot for the first book, so I guess we’ll just have to say the wizards and witches lack common sense and that all of Twilight’s criticisms are accurate. Even if that does make Dumbledore look like a chump. Because if he were as smart as many of his defenders say, he wouldn’t have allowed those obvious flaws in his plan to exist!

Clearly, Dumbledore never read the “have an eight-year-old child review all my plans” line in the “What I will do if I become an Evil Overlord” list.

And, I’ll get a bunch of down votes for Dumbledore-bashing.

69 — Fixing Things

Dumbledore looked at her for a moment, thinking. “It’s behind a fidelius charm, at the moment. You do know what that is, correct?”

She nodded, listening attentively while Dash drifted around the room like an enormous, lost, blue butterfly.

“That’s why I haven’t named the artefact. As the secret keeper, if I told you I had the artefact, then I would be disclosing the secret to all of you. Hence, my circumspect descriptions of the item.

“However, he knows about the artefact, and that he used to know where it was, but now he doesn’t. When I cancel the fidelius, he’ll remember it is here. All he remembers right now is that I have hidden something that he is very interested in having, and that I am working on a set of obstacles that will lead to it. He’s waiting until I am finished. He has waited ten years, what’s a few more months?”

She nodded. “That makes sense.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “So, he knows what the item is, and that it used to be at Gringotts. He knows you have it, but because of the fidelius, he can’t force you to give up the secret of exactly where it is at. He also knows that you are preparing a series of obstacles that will lead to it, and that therefore you will be removing it from its secret place at some point in time. But he doesn’t dare act early, because you might simply leave the item hidden and fort-up Hogwarts to prevent him from using any students as hostages.”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore happily, “you’ve got it.”

Applejack looked at them and said, “Honey, all I’m getting is a headache.”

Dash snickered from overhead, “I stopped listening when Twi said it was brilliant.”

Pinkie Pie was standing high up on the wall to their left, looking at the torch.

Rarity just shook her head.

۸- ̫ -۸

Castor leaned back in his chair. “So, based on what you’ve said, I think we should first take a look at Beretta Gallery to give you an idea of what we’re talking about. They offer both pistols and rifles. Then we should go to the army training facility at Bassingbourn, tomorrow, where we can run you through the basic safety training course and you can get familiar with the weapons.”

He took a deep breath. “I do have to say, though, that it is highly unlikely that you will ever need such a weapon. In England, only about seven percent of all the police officers have even received training in handling firearms, be it pistol, rifle, or shotgun. And, from personal experience since I became an officer, I can honestly say I have never needed a firearm of any sort, nor ever felt the desire to have one with me. Nor have any of the officers I know.”

“The number of people killed with a gun last year were less than eleven percent of all homicides in England, just sixty-one people. Out of over 150,000 crimes and fifty million plus people. To tell the truth, almost twice as many people died from drowning while swimming than from guns.

“That being said, I do see why you might want some familiarity with these weapons. For you, it’s a new and unknown risk factor. Doing this will give you an understanding of their uses and limitations. Something that a movie, where the directors use artistic-license to make things appear more dramatic, can’t do.”

He looked at the two women. “Are either of you a unicorn?”

Agent Heartstrings, nodded. “I am.”

“Can you stop things thrown at you?”

The two exchanged puzzled looks.

“I mean, well, for example, if someone threw a rock at you and you couldn’t dodge it, what would you do?”

Lyra shrugged, “Put up a shield spell.”

“Ah! So such a thing exists?”

“Yes.”

“Can you extend it to cover something else, like,” he looked around the room. “Like put a shield over that window from where you are sitting?”

She frowned. “Yes, but the farther away it is, the harder it is to do.”

“Good, then when we are at the range tomorrow, we can test your shield against gunfire. I’m sure you would like to know if such a thing would work should you ever get in a situation where someone was shooting at you.”

They both nodded.

He looked at his watch. “Well, we missed lunchtime. How about we get something to eat, and then drop by the Beretta Gallery?”

“Oooh! That sounds wonderful!” said Agent Drops. “I wonder what desserts they’ll have!”

“And I can practice using these,” Agent Heartstrings said, holding up her hands and wriggling her fingers, staring at them with an eager expression.

“And I can put in a call to my office so they can warn the shooting range to expect us tomorrow.”

۸- ̬ -۸

Princess Sparkle looked around the room pensively. A scroll and quill flew out of her saddlebags and started making notes. “Pinkie Pie,” she said, “Would you please carve these into the corners of the walls, floor, and ceiling? They will seal the room to anything trying to magically cross them.”

“Okey dokey lokey!” Pinkie Pie said cheerfully as she ran down the wall to snatch the list, and then ran off to a far corner.

“The runes will take a few days to get to full power. When Pinkie finishes, I’ll give them a partial charge to start.”

“Done!” Pinkie said, and handed the list back to the purple alicorn.

They all jumped and stared at her.

The Princess opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, and simply said, “Thank you, Pinkie.”

She looked at the wizards and witch, who were staring at Pinkie dumbfounded. “Don’t even try to figure it out. One of the worst days of my life was trying to figure Pinkie Pie out.”

Pinkie grinned happily.

Dumbledore felt a powerful surge around them as the princess frowned and her horn glowed ever-so-lightly. They went back out to the next room.

Twilight studied the door carefully, then drew some runes on it with her hoof. The door shimmered and disappeared, now looking just like the rest of the wall behind it. She looked back at Severus. “He’ll not get a clue to where the door is when he comes in. Make those black flames cover the entire wall.” She handed the scroll to Pinkie, again. “Could you do the walls, ceiling, and floor, again?”

She walked to the table of potions. “It’s good that you can’t detect which potion does what, but I still think you should make all these sleeping potions.” She sighed and headed to the door to the room with the troll. She paused only to send out a pulse of magic when Pinkie Pie once more declared she was “Done!”

The small corridor between the rooms was quickly protected, as well. There would be no sneaking into the spaces between the obstacles and trying to skip ahead. And the doors were protected from magical attack and destruction. Or at least from any attack that wouldn’t also destroy a good portion of the rooms.

The troll’s room received the same treatment, except she had Pinkie draw some runes on the bottom of the troll’s feet while she held the troll still. “Those runes make the troll almost impervious to magic as long as he is in this room.” She clearly strained to hold the troll still as Pinkie finished the last rune. “Hurry,” she called as they darted through the door, and closed it only moments before the troll slammed into it.

In Minerva’s room, after the princess reinforced the walls, she said to the professor, “Make the chess pieces impervious to outside magical movement and blasts. And put up anti-flying charms. Make him work to get across the room. Maybe even give the bishops and knights crossbows as well as spears, so they don’t have to get close to attack anyone trying to sneak across the board.”

Then came the next room.

She stared at the flying keys while Pinkie Pie darted around. She sighed. “I hope this doesn’t work,” she said. She concentrated. A few seconds later, every key in the room was at her feet. Except for one lone key flitting about. She looked at Filius. “I summoned every key that would respond, reasoning you would put the anti-summoning charm only on the one key that opened the door.” Filius nodded stoically.

“Perhaps leave him the pieces of the brooms, so he has to assemble a broom to catch the keys. And the keys could attack him while he is occupied in doing that.”

In the vines room, she walked over and stared at the small plant. She took a deep breath and a glow surrounded both her and the vines. She remained unmoving for several moments, then staggered back. She took a few deep breaths, then looked up at the ceiling. She nodded to herself and pulled out another scroll and made some notes on it. “Dash? Would you draw these runes on each surface at the corners of the room?”

“Yes! Finally! Something to do. I was falling asleep here.” She grabbed the scroll and shot up to the ceiling. Twilight turned to Pinkie, “And would you carve the sealing runes in the corners, as you did in the other rooms?”

“Oh, boy!” she said enthusiastically, “A race!” She darted to the first corner so fast she was a blur.

Princess Sparkle turned to Dumbledore. “I changed the vines so that now they seek magic, but avoid the sun. And all the surfaces in here will have a tiny magical glow because of those runes I gave Dash.”

Dumbledore exchanged astonished looks with his friends. She had magically altered the vines in under a minute? He was unaware of any spells that could do that without a great deal of time and effort — as in months or years of work. Pomona would be beside herself when she heard about this.

“Oh, and their fruit now tastes like cherries and is rich in Vitamin C and D. Might as well make the silly things useful for something.”

“Cherry chimachangas are the best!” Pinkie Pie declared from behind them.

Dumbledore heard a faint rustling and looked around to see what had made the noise. The vines reached out towards him, and the others, in spite of the flames coming from their wands. He thought a moment, and the light from his wand changed from that of a bright candle to match that of the sun. The vines twisted and turned, but came no closer.

A few minutes later, they all once more stood beside the sleeping Fluffy.

Pinkie flitted about, once more doing a job impossibly fast, with Dash excitedly racing her along the ceiling. This room had far more corners than the others did.

“Come along, Fluttershy,” the Princess called out as they headed back into the corridor. Fluttershy, naturally, had been petting the Cerberus as he slept.

Outside in the corridor, the princess turned to Dumbledore.

“I really don’t like the presence of either this artefact or this dark wizard you think is going to try to get it. Do you know who that wizard is?”

“Alas, no Princess, I do not. I have suspicions, but no real evidence. I believe he is currently staying in Hogsmeade, hiding. And that he will try to slip into Hogwarts sometime soon. And definitely when I remove the fidelius.”

Twilight stared up at the ceiling in exasperation. “And we just sent the entire student population into Hogsmeade where he could snatch a student and use polyjuice to sneak into the Castle. And once in the dorm, he could imperius his dorm-mates to ignore whatever he does.” She sighed.

“Except,” Dumbledore said, “He knows that the item he wants is still unavailable. It would benefit him nothing to do anything now. And the risks involved in keeping up the charade long enough for me to finish the traps and remove the fidelius outweigh the gain he might get from being a student inside Hogwarts the entire time before I do so.”

“I should remove Harry and the fillies, immediately.” She paused a moment, worrying her lower lip.

Dumbledore kept his expression bland, smiling slightly. From what he had seen today, if she wanted to take Harry with her, there was bloody little he could do to prevent it.

“However, this wizard is not yet in Hogwarts and the artefact, in itself, is innocuous. Knowing he cannot get the artefact until you remove the fidelius, he should be patient. And as long as he is outside of Hogwarts, then Harry and the girls are safe.” She grimaced. “Well as safe as the Cutie Mark Crusaders ever are.”

Rarity and Applejack both snorted while Dash giggled.

She sighed. “I will allow them to remain here until you either suspect or decide that this dark wizard has somehow made his way into Hogwarts. At that point, I will remove Harry and the fillies until this wizard is dealt with.”

“That seems reasonable. As long as the wizard thinks I am working to finish the obstacles, he will remain patient.”

She stared at him, frowning. “Unless he is stupid, he knows you’re building a trap for him. After all, if you merely wanted to keep it hidden, you would never remove the fidelius.”

“Yes, that is quite true. However, if he thought I was going to permanently leave it hidden away, then he would set up a hostage situation where I would have to choose between keeping the secret or letting students die.”

He smiled condescendingly, “That’s why Gringotts was such a good hiding place for so long. They could not be blackmailed by such tactics into giving up the artefact. They wouldn’t care how many died, either wizards or goblins, the vault would remain closed.”

She stared at him a moment. “Why didn’t this Flamel cast the fidelius on the item in the vault?”

Dumbledore shrugged. “I’m sure Gringotts wouldn’t have allowed him to perform that magic.”

She rolled her eyes. “Goblin, my friend, I have something in this chest,” she held her hooves about shoulder-width apart, “that has a fidelius cast on it, please put it in one of your most secure vaults.”

Dumbledore stared at her, then said, “I don’t know why he didn’t do that.”

The princess sighed and looked down briefly, shaking her head.

Dumbledore said. “No matter. Now that it had been moved, the wizard had to figure another way to the artefact. He knew that one of my staff had just removed the item and probably brought it here. My actions here, regarding the obstacles here in Hogwarts, assured him that I had, indeed, secured the item.

“He thinks he can easily beat my obstacles and acquire the artefact without revealing that Voldemort is trying to return to life. Thus he is patient.”

She gave him a dark look. “And, as I demonstrated, he was more than correct about the obstacles, right?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat, “Yes, quite so.” He shifted slightly, embarrassed. “However, I do not believe he has mastered the spell for walking through walls. I certainly have never heard of such a spell, myself. And your runes have rendered that moot, now, anyway. And without your spell, he shall have to solve each obstacle.”

She snorted and turned back to the door, now closed and several yards behind them. Her horn glowed for a moment. “There. I have placed an age-line across this end of the corridor. No one under the age of fifty can pass it to even get to the door and unlock it to see Fluffy.”

She cut her eyes over to look at Dumbledore. “I wonder why you never thought to use it? It seems like such an easy answer to keeping the students out.”

He felt his face burn, “Sometimes it takes an outsider to spot the obvious.”

“Yes. Indeed,” she said. “I have had to learn that lesson myself. And I still occasionally forget.” She looked at her friends with a smile. Rainbow Dash was smiling back and buffing a hoof on her chest smugly. The others merely returned her smile. “Yes,” the Princess murmured, “friends are a great help.”

She sighed and looked back at the wizards and witch. “And then there are the windows.” She frowned. “With the easy availability of flying on broomsticks, I imagine some students might try to sneak in that way. Or maybe even your bad wizard might do that. So, maybe you should spell the windows to not open, be unbreakable, and give you an alarm. And to block anyone from looking in, either.”

Dumbledore nodded. Oh yes, that was certainly a possibility. Voldemort’s minion could by-pass his first alarm simply by opening a window.

She watched him, then added, “Perhaps you should consult with others a bit more frequently?”

“Yes, mayhaps I shall.” He paused a moment, thinking. “Well,” he said briskly, “I believe we should make our way to the gates. Skiffy!”

“Skiffy be here!” came the immediate response.

“Would you inform the professors that the gates will be opening soon and to begin sending the students back to Hogwarts? Dinner will take place in the Great Hall, at the same time as usual, which will be less than an hour, I believe. And tell the other house-elves that they may return as soon as the wizards or witches they are helping no longer need their assistance. And tell Hagrid to wait until I am there before opening the gates.”

The house-elf didn’t even reply, he just disappeared.

“Speaking of which,” the princess said, “In view of the possibility the bad wizard might be a bit more desperate than you think, every student should be checked for any liquids they might be carrying, and what those liquids are. We wouldn’t want anyone to smuggle in a quantity of polyjuice while under an imperius.” She frowned. “Is there a spell to detect when someone is under the imperius? We should do that, as well.”

He cocked his head slightly sideways. “For polyjuice, indirectly, yes. I will stand at the gates myself and do so. A simple spell will reveal any liquids. For the imperius, no one has devised such a spell, yet.”

The furrow in her brow grew deeper, and she worried her lower lip with her teeth. “Can you cast it on me? I want to see what it does.” A scroll and quill flew from her saddlebags. The quill started taking notes.

The wizards exchanged looks.

“It is normally a forbidden curse,” Dumbledore said. He stood a moment, thinking. “But I do have many witnesses that you requested it.” He glanced around at them smiling. “I will cast a weak version.”

He lifted his wand and said, “Imperio!”

She looked at him curiously.

“Could you cast it on Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy squeaked and hid behind Applejack.

The princess smiled. “Don’t worry, Fluttershy, I don’t know anyone who has a stronger will than you.”

Mumbling her assent almost imperceptibly, the sonorous had finally worn off, the shy pink-haired witch slowly stepped back into view.

Dumbledore again cast the spell.

The purple alicorn stared for several moments, then nodded slowly. “Would you give her a command?”

He nodded, “Miss Fluttershy, pat your head with one hand while rubbing your stomach with the other.”

She tilted her head and said, “Why would I want to do that?”

Twilight nodded again. “Fluttershy? I want you to do what he says, next time. Don’t fight the spell. I want to see it in action, so don’t question it, please?”

Uncertainly, Fluttershy nodded.

Dumbledore again cast the spell and issued his instructions, then watched as the witch did as he had ordered.

“Would you cancel the spell, Headmaster?”

“Finite incantatem.”

The quill continued to scribble for several moments until the Princess smiled.

“Can we try it once more, Headmaster?”

Fluttershy had barely started patting her head when the Princess’ horn glowed purple, and Fluttershy glowed bright green.

Fluttershy stopped what she was doing with a puzzled expression. “What happened?”

Princess Sparkle turned to Dumbledore and had a sheet of paper fly over to him. “Here’s a spell that turns anyone under the imperius a bright-green colour. If the cast spell is stronger than the spell used for the imperius, it cancels it.”

Dumbledore and the professors stared at her in shock. She had just created a spell from scratch.

Still smiling, she said “We will join you at the gates. And you should make yourself invisible. No one will suspect us as we are taking the opportunity to greet our families. You being in sight would be a clear sign that something was suspected.”

They headed for the Castle doors, Dumbledore intently studying the spell described on the paper.

Just as they reached front doors, Dumbledore looked up from the paper. “As we were too busy to have lunch,” he said addressing the Atlanteans, “I believe I would be remiss in not inviting you all to join us for our evening repast.”

The six women exchanged looks and it was obvious they were of the same mind.

“Yes, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore,” said Princess Sparkle, “I think I can say we would be delighted to join you.”

“Oh, I can hardly wait to see Sweetie Belle,” declared Rarity, “It seems like forever since I saw her last week!”

“I know the feelin’, honey,” Applejack said. “The house just feels empty without Apple Bloom’s hooves charging up and down the stairs.”

“And I want to see if Scoots has tried any of my tricks, yet! She’s been telling me about those Quidditch games, here. I wouldn’t mind catching one if I can.”

“There should be some time after dinner.” His eyes were sparkling, again, he knew. “I’m sure one of the other teams could be persuaded into a match against the Pegasi Team.” He handed the paper to Filius. The other two professors looked over his shoulder at the paper.

Dash took off out the doors, leaving behind a fading, rainbow-coloured streak.

“By the way, Princess Sparkle,” Dumbledore said as they descended the steps outside. “The books you loaned to Harry? I would appreciate it if you would not do so in the future without first letting me take a look at the book you’re sending. Some of the spells in this book,” he pulled it out of his pocket and unshrank it, “Spells for Ghosts — If They Were Real, are too advanced for most students here at Hogwarts. And while you undoubtedly thought them harmless, given that there are no ghosts where you came from,” he frowned slightly at that thought — why didn’t they have ghosts in Atlantis? — “here in England many of the spells are considered dangerous and restricted. We are very lucky that the spell they worked on Miss Warren was not a proscribed one that would have landed them in deep trouble.” He sighed, “As it is, I had to spend a considerable amount of time over the last two days soothing worried parents, and the Ministry, telling them that your three charges were not attempting forbidden magics and that they didn’t constitute a threat to the rest of Hogwarts.”

The princess looked abashed and embarrassed. “Yes, I am sorry about that. I was just so excited to hear that there were ghosts here that I didn’t consider what that might mean.”

“Do you mind if I read this book, and the others you sent them? I would very much like to make them available to the other students, or acquire copies for our library, if they are benign enough.”

She looked at him brightly, “Oh, no, go right ahead. In fact, I’ll tell the girls to give you the books for your library when they are finished with them! They are extra copies, after all.”

He nodded, “Thank you very much for your generosity, Princess Sparkle. I look forward to reading the other books. This, though, will have to reside in the library’s restricted section until I can convince the Ministry to allow its general circulation, dealing as it does with returning a ghost to life.”

They walked in silence for a moment.

“I do have one other question about this book, if you don’t mind.” He held up the book, before shrinking and stowing it once more in his pocket.

She looked at him inquisitively.

“Do all of your books come with a sap-repelling spell on them?”

۸- ̫ -۸

70 — Disclosure

Steady Charger was surprised to recognize the unicorn mare slowly coming up the road towards the Portal Check-in building. It was the same mare from this morning. He hadn’t expected her until tomorrow at the earliest, if ever. She must be desperate for a job.

“Back again?” he asked as soon as she was close enough for conversation.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I’ve been thinking, and I talked to a few ponies in town.” She paused a moment and took a breath. “I think I want to apply for a job, here. Who do I need to see?”

He smiled back at her. “I’ll take you right to her. But first,” he pointed his horn in her direction and a spark jumped between them. Nothing more happened. Charger nodded, “Sorry about that, but we have to check.”

She sighed. “Yes, I know, I’ve been checked a dozen times in the last few days.”

He grinned at her. He took one long look around his post, and then said, “Follow me.” He turned and opened a door beside the gate. She followed him inside the building and down a short corridor past a closed door to a large room. The large room was set up for a long queue, with a row of unoccupied counters separating the front of the room from the back, which had an open door that led to the path to the portal

“Hey Sarge,” he called out as he headed for a room to one side of the larger room they were in. “We have somepony interested in working here.”

He led her into the room, “Sergeant, this is . . . ,” he stopped and looked at her.

She stood straight and said, “Bright Star.”

“Bright Star,” he repeated, nodding. “She’s the one I told you about who stopped by this morning.”

The mare behind the desk nodded, “Please take a seat, Miss Bright Star.”

Almost as an after-thought, a spark flew between the two Guards. The sergeant nodded. A spark flew from Steady Charger to the sergeant. They both nodded. Steady backed out of the room, and returned to his post outside.

“I’m Sergeant Rapid Dash,” she said as Bright Star sat in the chair across from her desk. “Why do you want to work here?”

The unicorn looked at her blankly for a moment, then said, “I just came to Ponyville and I need a job. It sounds like you might have a lot of openings.” She shrugged. “And it sounds more interesting here than a job in town.”

The Sergeant nodded. “We only have low-level jobs at the moment. Clerks, maids, kitchen help, janitorial, that sort of thing. We have a lot of researchers and teachers from Canterlot here, and they need looking after. Later, as the embassy becomes functional, there will be other openings. Still interested?”

She nodded firmly.

“As part of any job, here, you will be required to meet true aliens, and go through the portal itself for training in how to interact with those aliens. Going through the portal will change your form to match that of the aliens, although with practice you will be able to revert to your normal form while over there.

“Did Corporal Steady Charger show you what the aliens look like?”

“He showed me an illusion of one of his squad mates as a . . . human?”

Rapid Dash nodded. “Good, so you have an idea of what they look like. Still interested?”

She nodded firmly.

“Your cutie mark?”

She stood and showed off her cutie mark, a four-point star with a very long blue and green swirl above it.

“What does it mean?”

She shrugged. “I’m good with spells, especially modifying them.”

The sergeant sat back. “Did you attend Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns?”

“No,” she said, sighing. “I grew up in a small village near the Smokey Mountains. Getting to Canterlot wasn’t easy for us. And if I had been accepted, I’d have to move there alone as my parents couldn’t leave their jobs — seniority and all that. Plus, mom and dad didn’t want me to go away during what mom called ‘the best years of growing up.’ She wanted to be there for all my ‘firsts’ as she called them. So I made do with the local library, which didn’t really have much. I sorta had to improvise a lot with my magic. It was while doing that one day that I got my cutie mark.”

She gave the sergeant a half-smile. “My parents were so proud.”

Rapid Dash nodded in understanding, returning her smile.

“Well, I think we can put you in the spell research division as an assistant worker. Which means you keep things neat and clean for the researchers, and provide any help they might need. If your spell-skills are as good as you think, the researchers will rapidly discover them and you can get promoted. And if you want to transfer to the Embassy later, you can do that. How’s that sound for a start?”

Bright Star smiled broadly. “It sounds wonderful!”

“Okay. Now, the Princesses are very intent on working with these aliens. There are a lot of things they can teach us in areas we never thought to look at. There are two main tribes that we know of. The non-magical and the magical tribes. Both have numerous items and artefacts that will revolutionize our world. For example, did Corporal Steady Charger mention telephones to you?”

She nodded, “Yes, he did. He said they make it possible to instantly communicate from here to Canterlot.”

“That’s correct,” Rapid Dash said. “Every day, I use the telephone to report to Canterlot everything that has happened here, so they are never left in the dark as to our current status.” She glanced out the office door. “That is rapidly expanding to include every city, town, and village in Equestria. The plan is that every business and home in Equestria will have one of those. Those are from the non-magical tribe.” She shook her head, still amazed at the idea.

“And then there is the floo-network that the magical tribe uses.” She smiled at Star’s confusion.

“The floo-network is a magic that you use on fire-places that lets anypony instantly travel from one location to another.” She nodded at Star’s shocked expression.

“No longer is instant travel just for powerful unicorns. If two places have their fireplaces on the floo-network, then travel between them is available to anyone, It’s so simple, even fillies and colts can do it.” She paused, then continued. “That means I can walk into the communications room here, right now, and a minute later walk out of the Guards’ Facility in Manehattan or Canterlot.”

She grinned at Bright Star’s awed expression. “I’m sure you can see how that would revolutionize travel once it is completely set up, especially for the Guard to respond to disasters or attacks. Not to mention commerce and post.”

“And those are just two of the things we’ve had come out of this portal. There are many others that are being explored. And the magical tribe has magic sticks that let anypony cast magic, not just unicorns.” Bright Star’s mouth dropped open and she stared at the Sargeant. “So, you can see why the Princesses think it is so important to establish a good relationship with the aliens, both human tribes.”

The sergeant opened a drawer and pulled out some papers, as Bright Star just gaped at her. “You’ll need to fill these out. Just bring them with you tomorrow morning and I’ll send you through orientation — that’ll take about a week.”

Bright Star shook her head, obviously clearing her thoughts and trying to get back on track with her purpose here. “May I fill them out here?” she said after a moment, “That way, if I have any questions, you can answer them.”

Rapid Dash shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just pick a desk out front.”

“Thank you,” Bright Star said, nodding politely and picking up the papers in her magic as she headed into the larger room. She stopped at the nearest desk and checked the top drawer. It had the ink and quill she needed. She settled down and started filling out the paperwork.

۸- ̫ -۸

Harry and the other Gryffindors were starting to get bored, and tired. They had been to all the shops, and had managed to spend the last of their allowance — some a bit sooner than others. As promised, the twins had taken the group back to Honeydukes and Zonkos to spend the last of their knuts, those that had some left. But, after leaving those, well, it had been an exciting and long day.

They had tried to go back to the Three Broomsticks, but they weren’t the only ones with that idea, and it had been too packed for them to get inside. Instead, they had decided to head back to the turn-off for the Shrieking Shack and settle down there in the trees’ shade.

Which is where Rainbow Dash found them as she came diving down out of the sky. She stopped and hovered over the group, who were taking turns petting and being petted as ponies.

Scootaloo had immediately bounced up to join her, excitedly asking, “Well? What happened? I bet you were awesome!”

Dash was more than happy to reprise the battle to them, both in the Chamber and in the forest, which kept them enthralled for the next half-hour. By the time she had finished, the group had grown to include students from the other Houses, and years.

She concluded by saying, “Oh, yeah,” and looking a bit sheepish. “I almost forgot. The Headmaster said that the gates to Hogwarts are now open and for everyone to start heading back. Dinner will be at the usual time, he said, about half-an hour from now, I think.”

Several of the other students laughed, and one said, “We know, the Prefects have been telling everyone to finish what they’re doing and head back.”

Another said, “We just stopped to listen to your description of what happened.”

“Was it really the Chamber of Secrets?” asked one suspiciously.

“And was it really a basilisk?” asked a fourth.

Dash rubbed the back of her head with one hoof. “Yes, to both of those — I’m not exaggerating, that thing was huge! But the Headmaster said he’d be letting the students take a look at the Chamber as soon as he and the professors check it out, so maybe next weekend?”

That got a cheer from the students.

The group began to drift towards the gates.

“Hay, Scoots,” Rainbow Dash said, “Do ya think you can set up a quidditch game between the pegasi and one of the House teams?”

Scootaloo gave her a big grin. “I’m sure we can work out something. Right, George, Fred?”

Harry sighed. Keeping Dash out of the game would probably require tying her to the stadium seats.

The line at the Hogwarts’ Gates was a bit unusual, according to the older students. Usually it was Mr. Filch at the gate and carefully scanning returning students looking for contrabrand. This time there were three professors there greeting the students and assisting Mr. Filch. Of course, this time the number of students present was nearly a quarter more than usual. And most of the students were returning at the same time instead of being straggled out over the late afternoon.

The Gryffindor cohort managed to make it through the line without anyone losing anything they had purchased, to both Percy’s and Professor McGonagall’s relief. Other Years, and Houses, were not so fortunate. The pile wasn’t very big, but there was a pile.

Oddly enough, though, Harry noticed that the twins were carrying a good deal less than what he knew they had purchased. He wondered what they had done with the rest. Had they stashed it somewhere and planned to pick it up later? But how? Anytime someone left the school, Mr. Filch was always waiting at the gates to confiscate forbidden items.

Harry and Scootaloo had to bring out their trunks. Professor McGonagall had wanted to take a quick look to make sure they hadn’t hidden anything in them that would have been shielded from outside spells. Which Harry could understand perfectly.

Harry and the fillies were over-joyed to see Twilight and their sisters at the gate waiting for them. Twilight and Rarity were a bit distracted though, Harry saw. Almost immediately, he realized they were helping the professors scan the students, so the line went very rapidly.

Dinner had started right on time. Being able to talk with Twilight at dinner had been the highlight of the day as far as he was concerned. And from their smiles, the three fillies had felt the same way about seeing their sisters, counting Dash as Scootaloo’s.

During dinner, Harry saw that more than a few witches stared at Twilight’s brother and licked their lips. He wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel a bit worried for Shining Armor. Shiny didn’t even notice as he talked with some of the other Gryffindors about his home in the Crystal Empire.

Fluttershy mostly hid behind her long hair and huddled between Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo on one side and Applejack and Apple Bloom on the other. Rarity, naturally, sat across from Fluttershy with Sweetie Belle on one side and Harry on the other with Twilight and Shiny beside him.

Pinkie Pie? She seemed to be sitting at four different tables as she darted around the room at her normal hyper-speed, dispensing cupcakes, muffins, and cookies from the apparently bottomless supply in her hair.

When the desserts started appearing on the tables, Dumbledore started tapping on his Goblet as he stood at his place at the Head Table. Once silence had settled on the Hall, he said, “Just a few announcements to make, and then you may return to your repast.

“I trust you all had a good day today in Hogsmeade?” He calmly waited out their enthusiastic response, smiling all the while. If he was disappointed that the Equestrians were not sitting at his table, he hid it well.

“Excellent! I am glad to hear from the professors that there were few, if any problems, and that the shopkeepers and other citizens of the village were quite pleased with you all. I know it was difficult because of all the long lines, today, so thank you all for your patience.

“Next, the professors and I will be exploring Salazar Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets over the next few weeks, so you might find it more challenging at times to reach us outside of your classrooms. As soon as we determine it is safe, we will begin conducting tours of the Chamber, starting with the upper years first.”

There was a mix of applause and dismayed groans from the students.

“It seems that there was a monster in the Chamber. However, it has been dealt with and is no longer a danger to the school or anyone in it.”

The uproar over that was a bit louder.

“I wish to thank our guests,” he had nodded at the Equestrians seated at the Gryffindor table, “For their kind and competent assistance in resolving this matter. We are very fortunate that Princess Sparkle came visiting yesterday and that her friends came to visit their relatives today. It made exploring the Chamber much simpler and safer.”

He started politely applauding them, and coaxed the entire Hall into joining him.

“And finally, to make up for the lost day, classes for Tuesday through Friday this week will now take place on Wednesday through Saturday.”

A wave of unhappy complaining swept the hall.

Dumbledore raised his arms and “patted” the air to bring to noise level down.

“I know, I know,” he said, “it takes away a day of rest. However,” he continued, his eyes sparkling, “I think it is a fair trade; one day in Hogsmeade in place of an ordinary Saturday stuck at boring old Hogwarts, don’t you?”

Despite the grumbling, Harry had to agree with that assessment.

Then Dumbledore sat back down and they returned to finishing off their desserts.

Harry noticed, now that he looked, that the professors who had accompanied them to Hogsmeade all looked tired, while Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick looked both tired and relieved. Professor Quirrell, on the other hand, looked disgruntled and unhappy.

Harry could sympathize with him a bit. The wizard had suddenly fallen in the street while they were in Hogsmeade. He had said, to those that had hurried to help him get back up, that he thought someone had hit him with a tripping jinx. And he had glowered at every student in sight. Fortunately, that had not included any of the Gryffindor cohort, they had been in Honeydukes at the time. Harry thought Quirrell might have also hit his head, because for the rest of the afternoon, every time Harry had caught sight of him, he had been reaching up to touch his head and turban and looking quite pale.

The Quidditch match after dinner, this time with the Ravenclaws, went about as expected. While the pegasi still won, at least the score wasn’t as terribly lopsided as previous games. The Ravenclaws were adapting to the faster ponies. That that would bleed into the games against the other houses was clear to everyone. The ponies were, unintentionally, improving their opponents’ reflexes. The regular quidditch matches might not be as skewed in the Gryffindor’s favour as they had thought.

Twilight and Rarity managed to keep Rainbow Dash from leaving her seat in the stands, but only just barely. Harry knew she would be reporting to the pegasi at home just how the “experienced” quidditch players had adapted their tactics to being pegasi.

And watching as Ron set up his new wizarding radio and listening to the broadcast after curfew was a great way to end the day. Especially as they had completed the assignments due tomorrow yesterday.

All-in-all, he would rate today as quite satisfactory. Not only had they had fun, seen and heard interesting things, and not had to think about classes or assignments, there hadn’t been any sap involved! If he wasn’t so tired, he would dance on his hooves. Instead, he fell asleep.

۸- ̬ -۸

It was late in the evening when Castor entered the meeting room at Number Ten Downing. Sir Walker had briefed him just after dinner-time about what had happened during the day while he was escorting the two Equestrians at first at Beretta Gallery and then back to Little Whinging. And told him of the meeting scheduled later that evening with the Prime Minister and the head of M.I. Six, Sir McColl.

Sir Walker was behind him, having arrived by a different car. Sir McColl came through the door only a minute behind them, as did, surprisingly, Field Marshal Sir Chapple.

The head of MI Five handed all three a set of folders, identical to the ones the two of them had — pictures of the day’s intelligence.

What Searle found really surprising, though, was to see Ambassador Blueblood follow John Major into the room not long after the rest had sat down.

They each closed their folder without undue haste, and tried to make it look as if they were doing so in deference to the Prime Minister coming in. Castor wasn’t sure if the Ambassador bought that.

“Welcome. Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Major started as he sat down.

After a moment’s hesitation, Sir McColl shifted over one seat to allow Blueblood to sit beside the Prime Minister.

“In light of the events of the day, I find that I have to take you all into my confidence.” The other three officials watched the Prime Minister closely.

Castor softly sighed.

“That this is a state secret of the highest order I cannot stress enough,” the Prime Minister continued. He studied them all carefully. “You will notice,” he said, “that there are no paintings or pictures in this room.”

At his declaration, they all looked around and noted that, unlike many old government offices and meeting rooms, there indeed were no painting of any kind, either landscapes or portraits, nor any photographs. There were slightly brighter coloured areas on the walls that showed where such items had previously been hanging.

“When you return to your offices, you will tell your staffs that the Government Property Agency is reviewing all the paintings and pictures in government offices for their historical value. The GPA will be replacing some of them, cleaning them all, and returning them if it is proper to do so. I expect you to remove any such items immediately, with documentation attached as to their placement and age, if known, and remove them to any convenient storage closet that is not close to an office or any meeting rooms.”

He frowned, “I must include personal photographs, as well. There are to be no personal photographs on the walls or desks, anywhere, until the GPA gives them clearance.”

The Prime Minister paused, then added, “If you have difficulty removing any of them, desist at once and notify me via memo immediately.”

He took a deep breath and softly let it out.

“As you know, the Equestrians can do what we call magic. That is, they can manipulate their surroundings using only their minds.”

He looked down at the table for a moment, then looked back up.

“It appears, that there are also humans capable of doing this, and that they have been doing so for centuries.”

That pronouncement made the men in the room sit up straight.

“Not only that, but they have their own society, hidden from the rest of us by the use of, for lack of a better word, magic spells.”

The other three were stunned at the revelation.

“It appears that the Equestrians have been in extensive contact with these . . . wizards and witches, as they fashion themselves. Ambassador Blueblood has agreed to tell us what he knows of them.”

The next two hours were very informative. Especially when he revealed that there was a hidden wizards’ school in the Scottish highlands.

That prompted Sir Walker to open his folder and hand Blueblood the pictures and seismographic trace.

Which was when he revealed the reason for Princess Luna’s presence and trip through the trunks.

In essence, Castor realized, the Equestrians had been the cavalry riding to the wizards’ rescue in an untenable situation. Or, at least, what a reasonable person would call untenable. Castor had to shake his head in disbelief at the wizards’ willingness to leave their children in a school at risk from a ticking time-bomb underneath it.

That the trunks could be used for instant transport, unless there were specific spells blocking them, was a wrenching discovery that made a mockery of any country’s borders and attempts at security.

The explanation for removing the portraits and paintings was more than a little creepy, to Castor’s mind. And a huge security breach.

۸-_-۸

For Dumbledore, Wednesday was off to a terrible start. He had expected that he would have a nice uneventful day to mull over what he had discovered yesterday about the Atlanteans.

Princess Luna was a very powerful witch, clearly much more powerful than he was. And if the claims that she was over a thousand years old were true, she had to have an understanding of her magic that transcended conscious thought. Not to mention the other skills she must have picked up over that time. He knew that he had not been nearly as savvy regarding politics when he was only twenty-one, compared to what he knew today. How much more had she learned in a thousand years of navigating those treacherous waters, and watching others fail and succeed over that time in their manipulations?

Princess Twilight was no light-weight either. Especially with her rapid and apparently effortless teleportation abilities. And he was still unsure if teleportation was stopped by the Hogwarts’ anti-apparation charm, as the Chamber of Secrets lay outside their extent. Moreover, he had removed that charm from his office for the day. Yes, he could teleport, now, but the wards automatically yielded to his movements. He needed someone else to learn that skill. Perhaps he would have Filius test it for him.

And Prince Armor’s shield had been enlightening. His control had been exceptional, dropping and raising it much faster than a wizard could manage. And its flexibility was extraordinary.

His decision to hold himself and the others back and act as backup in case the Atlanteans had over-estimated their abilities had been quite fortuitous. He would have learned far less about them if he had fought beside them. Plus, the fact that they were clearly well used to fighting together led him to think his participation might have interfered instead of helped.

All that and more, he had intended to contemplate and order in his mind. That the Atlanteans would be a major player in England’s politics was a given, especially once the old families realized just how powerful these foreigners were. Sure, some would put their noses in the air and decry, “those foreigners,” but most would look at the sheer power they had and want to add that legacy to their bloodlines. Especially because the Atlantean pure-bloods could accurately trace their lineage back well over several thousand years, putting the English pure-bloods’ own claims to shame.

Those were his thoughts as he woke and prepared for his day. And planned to explore the Chamber of Secrets. He had spent several hours immediately after dinner last night placing alarm spells and blocking spells over the entrances so that should Tom Riddle’s follower attempt to gain access to the Chamber — there was no way he didn’t know about it by now if he hadn’t known about it before — he would be trapped by Dumbledore.

Those thoughts were blown to smoke as he descended the stairs to his office to hear “Headmaster Dumbledore? Are you there?” When he looked over at his fireplace, he saw Minister Fudge’s head.

“Yes, Cornelius, I just walked in. What may I do for you?”

“Ah, um, yes. I just heard the most disturbing news that a basilisk was found at Hogwarts. May I come through?”

۸-ꞈ-۸

71 — Denial

Dumbledore stifled a sigh at the Minister’s request. The students must have sent owls out about their adventure yesterday. He really should have realized they would want to tell their parents of their unexpected Hogsmeade holiday, and the events at the castle.

“Why, yes, of course. Come on through.”

As soon as he could manage, he was going to change the owl-mail spells so that he only had to express the command and the owls would delay leaving until it was too late for the fastest of them to arrive at the parents’ homes until well after breakfast. That would delay reactions a bit, perhaps even until the next day.

And give him time to enjoy his breakfast in peace.

As soon as the Minister was in the room, and cleaning off the ashes from the fireplace, another voice came from the floo, “Headmaster Dumbledore? Are you there?” It was Augusta Longbottom, Neville’s Grandmother. He had no sooner allowed her through, than another voice spoke up, Lucius Malfoy.

Dumbledore quickly locked his floo, but not before Department for Magical Law Enforcement head Amelia Bones managed to come through, too.

After providing his four guests with nice hot cups of tea, and a smidgen of calming draft — what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him — they sat back to discuss the events of yesterday.

Dumbledore smiled genially, “Before you tell me what you were told happened yesterday, allow me to tell you what really happened.”

They all nodded.

He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Late Monday, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were talking with Myrtle Warren — the former ghost, you’ll recall,” he glanced at them, his eyes twinkling. “About what she remembered of her former life and to gauge how much she retained of her days as a student. As you might imagine, the subject of precisely how she had died came up. The official record is one of a prank gone wrong, but nothing really explained what happened or how.” He sighed.

“After a long discussion, they realized that what had happened to Myrtle was a clue to Salazar Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets!”

His audience was paying close attention. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but both Augusta and Amelia leaned forward. Fudge nervously rotated his bowler hat in his hands a bit more rapidly.

Dumbledore sat back up as he had an inspiration. Yes, this would solve several problems at the same time.

“Here, rather than tell you, let me show you what we discovered.” He stood and went over to his cupboard, returning with Hogwarts’ Pensieve. There was already a silvery-smoky-liquid swirling inside.

He had to shake his head in chagrin as he thought about what was inside the pensieve. After his Atlantean guests had left last night and he had been about to put his pensieve bowl away, it had occurred to him that he could have viewed Myrtle’s memories Monday night. Then he would have been much better prepared, and not have so severely under-estimated the size of the beast. And possibly looked a bit more competent to the Atlanteans.

A quick floo-call to Flitwick had had him bring through the witch a few minutes later. Then the three of them had viewed the memory. It had been a great help, even if it was too late to plan for the basilisk’s removal.

He had been wondering, late last night, how he could use what the memory had shown him. And if he should keep it hidden. Now looked like the perfect opportunity to reveal and exploit its secrets without causing undue panic. And keeping secrets hadn’t helped him with Harry Potter.

He set the pensieve on his desk and invited his guests to come with him.

Moments later the five of them were standing in a stall in the second-floor witches’ toilets. Sitting on the toilet in the stall was a girl with a bad case of acne and wearing glasses, arms wrapped around her stomach, sobbing softly to herself. It was Myrtle.

“Please listen very closely. Forward.” The memory began to move.

They heard the door to the toilets open, footsteps came their way. Then there was a hissing sound. A boy was hissing.

“Stop,” Dumbledore said as he saw Lucius stiffen in recognition. Amelia had a deep frown. Augusta stared at him levelly while Fudge looked puzzled.

“Yes, Lucius, you recognize that hissing, don’t you. You’ve heard it before, I imagine.”

Malfoy gave a stiff nod.

“Forward,” Dumbledore said, starting the memory again.

The young witch stood up, her expression furious. She stepped through them and flung open the stall door. She took a step. And the memory stopped of its own accord. Myrtle had just died.

Everyone except Dumbledore gasped in shock and they all started talking at once.

Dumbledore sighed, and stepped into the rest of the toilet room. There, less than two yards in front of them, was a giant-snake’s head. It was almost as wide as he was. It had grown significantly since Myrtle had died, he could see, but it was still far larger than he had thought it would be on Tuesday morning.

He did wonder just what it had been eating. Hagrid would have told him if there had been any significant drops in the woodland population of the Forbidden Forest. And the centaur Bane would not have been silent if a basilisk had hunted them, as he thought the wizards were the source of all the centaurs’ troubles.

The beast’s head was coming out of a hole in the wall and floor where the sink used to be, and was hovering at about chest-height. To their left, as they walked out to inspect the beast, they saw a boy, a student in Slytherin robes.

“This is Tom Marvolo Riddle, a prefect at the time.” Dumbledore said. “Reverse.”

As the memory ran back to its start, they heard and saw the boy hissing and leaving the bathroom.

“Forward.”

There was no denying that the boy who walked into the Witches’ toilets on the second floor was the one doing the hissing, that the sink and part of the wall had opened, much like the wall in Diagnon Alley did, and that the giant snake, a basilisk, had come out in response.

Malfoy was looking quite pale, Dumbledore noticed. No doubt he had identified the boy, already.

“Tom Riddle,” Dumbledore said, “was a favourite of Headmaster Dippet. Tom was a poor, but brilliant, Slytherin. He was parentless, a school prefect, and a model student. He knew everyone and almost everyone liked him.

“But I knew that he wasn’t as he seemed. I had seen him in the orphanage, where he was anything but a model child. The other orphans feared him, and with good reason. He was not afraid to use his magic to enforce his will upon the others. Even the staff was fearful of him, not that they would admit it.

“Armando refused to listen to my suspicions that the boy was not to be trusted.”

Amelia was studying both the basilisk and the boy closely.

“Tom claimed that it was Rubeus Hagrid, a half-giant, who killed Myrtle. He fabricated a story, and convinced all of his lie. Armando even gave him an award, a shield, for special services to the school, fifty years ago, for finding the perpetrator of the ghastly attacks and Myrtle’s death. At that time no one suspected the monster that had killed her was a basilisk. And Armando stopped any further investigations by stating the matter was closed, it had been a terrible accident, a prank gone wrong. Nothing more. Myrtle’s memory shows Armando was fatally wrong.”

Dumbledore turned to the others. “I will be restoring Hagrid’s right to have a wand, and make sure he takes remedial classes until he achieves his OWLS. I will also remove Tom Riddle’s award from the records.”

Augusta watched and listened intently.

“And while this can’t be used as evidence in the Wizengamot that Tom Riddle did indeed kill Myrtle — polyjuice — even the pure-bloods will admit it exonerates Hagrid of anything to do with the incident. Unless,” he looked over at Lucius, “the purebloods are willing to admit that a half-giant half-blood is a Parselmouth — the ability that only descendants of Salazar Slytherin have — making him a legitimate descendant of the wizard.”

Lucius gave him a blank look, then shook his head slightly. Of the two choices, Dumbledore knew the pure-bloods would never accord a half-giant that status — it would be too big a blow to their pride.

“I want all the information you have on this Tom Riddle,” The Head Auror demanded, coming back to him.

“I will be happy to hand over the public information,” Dumbledore said, “But you already know most of it.”

They all gave him a sharp look. Malfoy’s look had more than a little dread in it. Dumbledore was sure the two witches noticed this. Fudge? Well, Fudge was still in the stall, staring at the basilisk in horror.

“What you do not yet know is that Tom Marvolo Riddle is the half-blood son of a witch by the name of Merope Gaunt, and his father was the son of a wealthy muggle land-owner, Tom Riddle. She had bewitched him with a love potion, and, when the potion ran out, Tom Riddle, Senior, went home. Leaving her destitute and with child.”

Dumbledore would have sworn it wasn’t possible for anyone to be paler than Lucius Malfoy at that point. And he couldn’t deny that the boy in front of them was Voldemort, the facial resemblance was too obvious. The only other explanation was that this boy was a sibling to Voldemort, or a cousin. But Voldemort had long claimed to be the only heir to Slytherin, to have no living relatives.

“Tom was born on December thirty-first, 1926, at Wool's Orphanage in London,” Dumbledore said softly. “He was named by his mother before she died moments after his birth. He lived there until he graduated from Hogwarts. Afterwards, there were rumours about him at various times, he even worked for fifteen years in Diagon Alley . . . at Borgin and Burkes. When Hepzibah Smith, a descendent of Helga Hufflepuff, died in 1961, Tom abruptly resigned his position and disappeared completely. He had known her quite well, and been a frequent visitor.”

Dumbledore paused, then continued, “I do not think it a coincidence that her family’s two most valuable treasures, Slytherin’s locket and Hufflepuff’s cup, disappeared at the same time. The next time I saw Tom Riddle, in 1971, he was applying for a job as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, here at Hogwarts. When I asked Riddle why he had requested the position, as he clearly had no desire whatsoever to teach, he left. From that day forward, I have been unable to keep a Professor for the Defence Against the Dark Arts for more than a year.”

Dumbledore stepped over to the Minister of Magic and gently pulled him out of the stall and past the King of Snakes. He turned him to face Tom.

“The next time I saw Tom Riddle, he was telling everyone he was the last member of a prestigious pure-blood family, and the heir to Salazar Slytherin’s legacy. Funny that he never specified which family, isn’t it,” Dumbledore said, staring at Lucius. “If you do the research, you’ll find the Gaunts were not a family to inspire either awe or respect. Quite the opposite, really.”

Lucius was leaning a bit heavily on his cane and refused to meet his eyes.

“He called himself Voldemort, at that time.” He shook his head sadly.

Three of his audience gasped at the revelation. Malfoy looked close to fainting, and swayed slightly, his eyes staring off into the distance.

“You can even make an anagram from his name, Tom Marvolo Riddle can be rearranged to say I am Lord Voldemort.” He paused a second. “I believe he came up with that while still at Hogwarts. It has that juvenile feel to it, don’t you think? Voldemort, French for Flight or Steal From Death?” He didn’t mention Mr. Tom, a Dildo Lover; Mr. Atom, Dildo Lover; Mom overdid a Troll, or the other eighteen possible anagrams he had found. Some of them were quite juvenile, indeed.

He glanced at two wizards and witches.

“It’s rather odd that almost none of his former classmates ever made the connection between Voldemort and Tom Riddle. Most of them are dead, though.” He sighed.

“And you know the rest of the story.”

Dumbledore looked away from Malfoy to Amelia. “I will forward the rest of Tom Riddle, Junior’s, Hogwarts public information. You will need an order from the Wizengamot if you wish his complete file.”

She nodded, her brow heavily furrowed.

۸-_-۸

They sat in his office quietly sipping at their tea, each contemplating what they had seen. Lucius was starting to get a bit of colour back in his face. Augusta was still watching both Lucius and Dumbledore. Amelia was staring into her cup, frowning. And Cornelius was staring at the wall blankly, and shivering every once in a while.

Dumbledore considered what he should do next. Conducting tours of the memory would be exhaustingly time-consuming, but there were a few people he felt should see the memory directly. Should he arrange a meeting with Miss Skeeter? That would spread the news quite efficiently. She might choose to attack the school for not pursuing the basilisk earlier, but then all the blame would fall to former Headmaster Dippet.

Perhaps if he stressed that a half-blood had terrorized the school, killed a muggle-born, and then framed another half-blood for the crime? And then went on to kill Hepzibah Smith, steal two priceless treasures, and eventually become the feared Voldemort? And point out Tom Marvolo Riddle’s anagram? Yes, that might work.

He cleared his throat. His four guests looked up at him. “I realize that wasn’t what you came here to learn,” he said, “but it does lead to what happened yesterday.”

They all shifted in the chairs, their attention once more fixed on the Headmaster.

“Knowing where the entrance was did not allow us entry to the Chamber. The entrance can only be opened and closed by a Parselmouth. Fawkes,” they all turned to look at the phoenix on his perch, who preened at the attention, “on the other hand, doesn’t require that the door be opened to pass to the other side. Fawkes took me down to the Chamber.” The phoenix trilled a short calming melody.

He took a breath. “It very much displays Salazar Slytherin’s touch, being bigger than the Great Hall, with his statue at the far end. The basilisk’s lair was behind the statue.” The less said about how it entered and left its lair, the better. “It was asleep at the time, which gave me a few minutes to explore.”

He sighed.

“As much as I wanted to wait until summer, when the castle was empty, to handle the King of Snakes, I couldn’t. There was simply too much at stake. The basilisk could wake at any time, and, as we know from what happened to Myrtle, not only could it kill, it had. And there was nothing to prevent it from doing so again. In addition, based on what happened forty-eight years ago, the snake has full access to Hogwarts. It could go anywhere without being tracked, as Headmaster Dippet tried everything we could think of at the time to find it. Apparently, Salazar bespelled the castle walls to conceal the basilisk from being found by the castle’s enchantments.

“So, I decided that I would declare a Hogsmeade holiday for the next day, and move all the students to safety. With the students safe, I and my professors could find and remove the basilisk. Which is what we did.”

“And the foreigners?” Lucius asked quietly.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore nodded genially, “The foreigners.” He nodded a second time.

“To my surprise, during dinner in the Great Hall on Monday, a phoenix by the name of Philomena — it apparently belongs to Harry Potter — rather abruptly brought Princess Sparkle to Hogwarts.” He smiled. “She wanted to talk to her charges about what they had done in bringing Myrtle back from a ghost. She also wanted to discuss that event with Myrtle.

“When she heard about the basilisk and that it was controlled by a parselmouth, she suggested that one of her friends might be able to help us.” He tilted his head slightly. “It seems this friend doesn’t actually speak Parseltongue, but has a special talent that lets her understand animals.” He thought a moment, “Or perhaps it lets her understand their intent.” He paused and frowned. “Even seeing her do it, I’m not sure which of those apply.

“I didn’t notify the Ministry because, as far as I know, no one in the Aurors or Unspeakables understand Parseltongue or are a parselmouth.” He looked over at Amelia and Fudge, who both shook their heads, no.

“Trying to blast the King of Serpents out of its lair behind the statue could have been disastrous to both the Chamber and any wizards in it. Not to mention that snakes typically have more than one exit from their lairs and it might have simply fled, leaving us with no way to track it without blasting through Salazar’s statue.”

He sighed.

“So, I took her up on her offer, and she returned with a few of her friends the next morning.”

He sighed again. “After the students and house-elves were evacuated, Professors Snape, Flitwick, McGonagall, and I apparated with the foreigners into the Chamber. Miss Fluttershy, the one who understands animals, woke up the basilisk and talked to it.” He shifted in his chair and shook his head sadly.

“She spoke English, so I could hear what she said, and she translated what the snake said back.” He carefully did not mention that he could understand Parseltongue.

“She said, ‘The snake said that the last Speaker had told it to be ready to ‘clean out the muggle-born filth and those who would help them.’” He sighed and shook his head. “Clearly, the basilisk was a tragedy waiting to happen. Acting as we did was the correct move — we could not wait to resolve the situation.

“She tried to talk the basilisk into coming out peacefully, but it demanded we desist in trying to get it to ignore its master’s commands. It opened the door to its lair and attacked us.”

The four listeners were captivated at his description.

“At first, we were unable to make headway, but, finally, we managed to drive the snake back into its lair and blast the door open so it couldn’t hide.

“Its lair had a second exit, and we followed it into the Forbidden Forest. Once there, the basilisk was defeated. Unfortunately, that required reducing a sizeable portion of the forest to ashes, and there was nothing recoverable in that area. I did manage to salvage a few fangs in the Chamber of Secrets that escaped that destruction.”

He stood and walked over to his cabinet. He opened it and removed a half-yard-long box from one of the lower drawers. He brought it back, laid it on his desk, and opened it carefully. Nestled inside were two long bottles, each with two fangs in it.

“The bottles are purest crystal and spelled to be impervious, with a second spell inside that keeps the venom from touching the glass and breaking the spells.”

Amelia and Lucius came up to take a look, while Fudge and Augusta merely watched from their seats.

He turned to Amelia. “This is for the Unspeakables to store, I think. Any venom they drain from the fangs can be sold to potion researchers. Hogwarts will split the proceeds half-and-half with the Ministry.”

She nodded, carefully closed the lid, and carried the box back to her seat.

Dumbledore did not mention the other two fangs he had stored separately in the Come-and-Go Room, along with the quart-bottle of venom he had collected from the fangs.

“It is a pity that we were not able to salvage anything else from the basilisk.” He shook his head sadly, “It was a veritable fortune in venom, hide, and organs, and would have been a great boon to Hogwarts’ finances.”

Lucius arched an eyebrow. He was clearly getting over the shock of learning that his former leader had not been a pure-blood in the slightest, but a low-born half-blood from a family of what his father had called high-born degenerates.

“And, speaking of finances,” Lucius said. “What is this I hear about every student being given a sickle for spending in Hogsmeade? And their luncheons being charged to Hogwarts?”

“Yes, that is true.” Dumbledore nodded genially. “It was the Atlanteans’ suggestion. As you no doubt realize, sending nearly a thousand students into the village, unprepared for such an event, had the potential to be, well, a nasty problem. Especially with so many of them having limited or no funds of their own — the old adage of idle hands and idle minds lead to trouble. Rather than risk our good relationship with the village, it seemed reasonable to provide the students with an outlet for their mischievousness.”

He smiled, then continued. “You can be assured that the funds did not come from Hogwarts’ accounts, and that I will ensure the meal charges are reimbursed. I have to admit, under the circumstances, it was the best method of dealing with what could have been an unruly situation.”

Augusta looked at him a moment, then nodded approvingly. “You dipped into your own funds, then?”

Dumbledore sighed and looked out the windows. “I do not want word of precisely how things were managed to become general knowledge. It would draw the wrong sort of attention to Hogwarts. And my personal finances should never be a part of any discussion regarding Hogwarts’s students, and their education.

Cornelius looked at him with a startled expression. Someone not wanting the attention of the press and public was something he had difficulty understanding. “Oh,” he said. “We can’t have a fine citizen such as yourself bearing that financial burden all by yourself. I think the Ministry should bear the expenses. These are, after all, our children you were protecting.” He nodded firmly. “Yes, just tell everyone who asks that the Ministry paid the bills, and forward them to me, personally, when they arrive. I’ll make sure to have a courier bring over the thousand sickles you’ve already spent.” He nodded firmly, a second time, smiling.

Dumbledore smiled back. “Thank you for that offer, Cornelius.” He knew that the Minister would arrange to bring the sickles over himself, with a photographer to commemorate his handing over the money to Albus. That would be included in a press release about how the Ministry took the welfare of Hogwarts’ students very seriously, no doubt.

And the Headmaster would return the sickles to the Atlanteans to garner a bit of good will. An all-around satisfactory solution.

He considered a moment if he should show them more, then decided it would not hurt. It might actually strengthen his position. And after seeing the first memory, they should be receptive to another.

“There is another thing I need to show you,” he said. He used his wand to store the memory in the bowl to a small bottle, then tapped his wand to his head and drew out a new one, which he deposited in the pensieve.

Moments later, the four were in his office with the Atlanteans.

After naming the Atlanteans for them, and giving them a bit of time to examine the foreigners, Dumbledore said, “Forward.”

Memory Dumbledore turned to his Potions Professor. “Severus, show them, please.”

The memory played up to the moment that Severus scowled and said, “The Dark Lord is not one you can mock in safety! Be careful what you say.”

“So,” Dumbledore said to his stunned audience. “Now you understand why I’ve always maintained that Voldemort was not dead. Because he isn’t. And he is, right now, striving to come back to mortal form.” He turned to Lucius. “As, I am sure, you and every other marked Death Eater already know.”

Cornelius looked ready to faint. Lucius looked resigned, and rubbed his left arm. Amelia was grim. And, oddly, Augusta looked furious.

Amelia turned to Cornelius. “I think you need to give the Aurors a large budget increase so we can prepare for when he succeeds. And give us more latitude in checking the Ministry for spies.”

Fudge blinked at her, then said, “But this can’t be right, he’s dead! He was killed ten years ago!” He shook his head violently. “He is not coming back!”

۸- ̰ -۸

72 — Exposure

Amelia stared at him, then said, “So? Even if he is dead, and he isn’t coming back, his followers will believe that he is returning because their Marks are getting darker.” She pointed at Severus’ exposed mark. “And they will renew their attacks, won’t they, Mr. Malfoy.”

Surprised at being addressed, Lucius gave a quick nod, then frowned. Apparently he had not meant to do that. His thoughts on the revelations about Tom Riddle had probably unsettled him.

“So,” she continued, “because his followers will start acting up, you should increase the Auror budget. Or, when the attacks start and people find out you stone-walled any effective measures beforehand, they will blame you and you will be voted out.”

Now Cornelius looked nervous.

“I’m sure you are exaggerating, Miss Bones.”

She stared back at Lucius. “All it will take is one Death Eater sending up the Mark over a burning building, and people will come baying for your blood when they found out you knew in advance and did nothing.

“Not to mention what this basilisk could have done. I don’t think the wizards in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures could have handled it. Not if even Headmaster Dumbledore needed assistance. I know the Aurors would have been stretched!”

“I am afraid Amelia is correct, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said, “And I wouldn’t put it past your enemies to try to see you in Azkaban for gross negligence of your duties.” Albus gave the poor wizard a wry smile. “I would never condone such an act, but you have alienated a few in the Wizengamot.”

Striking while she thought she had the advantage, Amelia added, “It doesn’t have to be much, Cornelius, restore the budget to what it was during the war. That should be more than sufficient to let me rebuild the department.”

Augusta spoke up, “Minister Fudge, it would be in your best interest to be seen as a supporter of law and order. I have heard more than one member of the Wizengamot complain about the rise in crime over the last few years. It would hurt you greatly if this memory,” she waved one arm gracefully and pointed at Severus, “were to become common knowledge — and you were seen to do nothing.”

Confronted by three of the four in the room while his main financial backer said nothing, Cornelius capitulated. “Yes,” he said, “Perhaps you are correct. I will sign the orders when we get back to the Ministry, increasing the budget of both the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to what they were at the end of the war.”

Malfoy had the hint of disapproval in his expression, but dared not speak.

Dumbledore knew Lucius had been the driving force in keeping the Aurors’ budget low for the last ten years.

Malfoy was faced with arguments for which he had no effective counters, at the moment. If he did object, he would appear to be an obstructionist, for no apparent reason. Or worse, people would think he did have a reason, that he still supported the Dark Lord. Which would remove some of his influence from the Wizengamot and interfere with his plans when the truth of the Dark Lord’s parentage came out.

“It is the right thing to do, Cornelius,” Albus said, “we really must prepare, for I fear things will only get worse as the Dark Mark becomes more vivid.”

They spent a few more minutes discussing things, then exited the memory. Albus conducted his guests to the floo, subtly manoeuvring Amelia to be last. He closed the floo just as she went to throw the floo-powder.

“There is one more thing I think you should see Amelia,” he said as she looked at him questioningly.

Once more they stood in a memory of his office, and once more he ran the memory starting with memory him saying, “Severus, show them, please.”

This time the memory ran until just after Pinkie Pie said, “I think he was sad to lose his snake friend.”

Amelia stared at him in disbelief.

He nodded to her. “Yes, Amelia, he has found a host. And, I think you should inform the Unspeakables that the Dark Mark can be used to find and track Death Eaters, and maybe even Tom Riddle himself. I’m sure they could find a volunteer from Azkaban to help them in exchange for better conditions or a shortened sentence. Or elsewhere.”

She nodded slowly.

Once they were back in his real-world office, he handed her a sheet of paper. “Princess Sparkle is a bit of a genius at spell creation. She was appalled at hearing what the imperius curse could do, and came up with this counter-spell. It turns anyone under the curse a bright-green colour. If the cast spell is stronger than the spell used for the imperius, it cancels it.”

He shook his head sadly. “Imagine how many lives could have been saved if the runes for this spell had been placed on every floo-connection. And if Aurors could have cast this spell instead of more dangerous ones at suspects.”

She took the paper and studied it carefully. She looked back up at him and smiled grimly. “We’ll give this a careful study. It wouldn’t hurt to have the runes for it scattered throughout the Ministry. If it works.” She paused in thought. “And if it does, it wouldn’t hurt to have it placed on every door-front in Diagon Alley, too.”

Immediately after Amelia left, and before he could close it, there was a voice and face in his floo. It was Mr. Bulstrode asking, “May I come through?” And no sooner did he come through then it was Mr. Macmillian asking. He was followed by Mr. Turpin, and then by Mrs. Zabini.

Dumbledore almost clipped her heel closing the floo.

He sighed. It was Monday all over again. On the other hand, he could easily spread the tale of who Tom Riddle was, and that the Ministry had funded yesterday’s activities.

Still, it was going to a long and tedious day.

۸-~-۸

For once, none of the Gryffindor First Years, neither individually nor as a group, were the subject of gossip at breakfast on Wednesday morning. Instead, the main topics were the Chamber of Secrets, the seven foreigners who had been at dinner last night, and the things they had all purchased in Hogsmeade yesterday. On the subject of the foreigners, or Atlanteans as most were now calling them, the witches spent most of their time talking about how “dreamy” Shining Armor was and admiring his muscles. That he had held up a shield over all of Hogsmeade was also considered remarkable, and added to his “attractiveness.”

The wizards split their time to discussing the attributes of the various female Atlanteans. Well, at least those that didn’t have girlfriends did. The ones with girlfriends, if they said anything at all, did so only when their girlfriends were out of listening range.

Harry thought it was rather nice not to be gawked at during breakfast. With any luck, it might actually last a while.

Professor Quirrell, Harry saw as he finished breakfast, still looked unhappy. That did not bode well for their DADA class.

After breakfast, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs picked up their walking bushes from Greenhouse number one for Herbology, and then headed on into Charms. Professor Flitwick was beginning to catch on to how much book-walking was helping them and spent more time on the practical than lecturing.

Lunch was quiet until Sweetie Belle said, “We should build a filly flinger, like we did in Ponyville.”

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. He started hacking and coughing while Apple Bloom pounded his back a couple of times. He finally cleared his throat enough to rasp, “What?”

Sweetie shrugged. “I noticed some people swimming in the lake over the weekend, and we don’t have a lot of time before winter gets here. And, if we build it now, it’ll be ready in the spring and summer when it gets warm again.”

Scootaloo perked right up, “Yeah, and we pegasi could use it to play dodge-pony any time the weather is nice!”

Hermione, Ginny, and several others nearby were staring at them, baffled.

“Filly-flinger?” Ginny asked wonderingly.

Sweetie turned to her. “Yep. It’s a trebuchet made to throw po . . . people into the lake. It’s loads of fun!”

“Wait,” interrupted Hermione, “You four built a trebuchet? By yourselves?”

Harry nodded. “Actually, we built two of them the summer before.”

Hermione’s eyes glazed over as she tried to imagine the four of them building a trebuchet big enough to throw people. Just handling the tools should have taken them weeks of cutting.

“Yeah, we were trying for a Cutie Mark in Weapons of Mass Destruction, but,” she reflexively glanced down at her thigh, “it didn’t work.”

Everyone around them shivered at the thought. Considering how much damage they did by accident, either physical or not, the four of them getting that as a specialty was terrifying on an entirely new level.

“And it’ll be much easier this time because we can all use magic to help!” Sweetie continued.

“But we’re not supposed to go into the Forbidden Forest,” Bloom said. “Where will we get the tree-trunks we need?”

Sweetie shrugged, “We can ask Hagrid. If he goes with us, it’ll be safe enough. He is a staff member, remember.”

“Do you remember the numbers?” Scootaloo asked.

“Yep,” Sweetie said. “It’ll be easy.”

“Will they let us?” Harry asked.

“Don’t see why not,” Sweetie said.

Hermione snickered and said, “Cum trebuchetta Proscriptae Erunt Tum Soli Proscripti trebuchetta Habebunt.”

Everyone turned and stared at her.

Still snickering a bit, she said, “When trebuchets are outlawed, only outlaws will have trebuchets.”

Harry shook his head. Leave it to Hermione to study up on Latin. Probably because it was used so much in the science books she read — for light reading.

The muggle-born students nearby laughed, as did a few half-bloods.

With the three fillies set on the project, Harry quickly yielded to the inevitable, and went back to finishing his lunch.

Then came Transfigurations and DADA, which were both boring in their own ways. Apple Bloom finished off her initials using embedded needles in the ceiling, half of which were now matches. Sweetie Belle completed her carousel design on the window curtains. And Scootaloo’s needle had a finely detailed image of Rainbow Dash carved into it.

Oddly enough, Professor Quirrell was in a pensive mood and he spent most of the lecture talking about muggles. Things the muggle-born thought were blasé — cars, buses, etc. — turned out to be dangerous to wizards and witches. The muggle world was hazardous to the wizards and witches simply because they didn’t live in it and didn’t recognize the dangers. Even the idea that someone would break in to their homes and steal something was almost unthinkable!

After dropping off their walking bushes at the greenhouse, the cohort headed for Hagrid’s hut. Fortunately for their plans, he was in.

After braving Fang, and getting Hagrid to come out, they explained what they wanted.

“So,” Hagrid said, looking down at them and grinning, “Yeh wanna build a treebucket, eh?” He shook his head bemusedly. “And yeh need about sixty yards ’o wood?”

Sweetie Belle nodded eagerly. “Yep, that should be plenty. And about a thousand pounds of rocks.”

Hagrid stood there thoughtfully, rubbing his chin through his beard. “I think I know ’o where to find a downed one ur two.” He looked at Harry. “I can’t take you all in with meh.”

“Sweetie Belle and I will go.” Harry turned to the other Gyffindor’s. “Apple Bloom, you and Scootaloo go find a good location by the lake where we can anchor it well. And start levelling it.”

The two fillies nodded and turned to head off to the lake, with Scootaloo and Ginny transforming and taking wing to get there faster. And to fly because they could fly. The rest of the First Years trailed after the fillies, curious at what they were going to be doing.

Harry, Sweetie Belle, and Neville followed Hagrid after he retrieved a huge crossbow from beside his hut’s door. Harry had to stare at the crossbow, it was almost as long as he was tall!

After about three minutes walking, Hagrid said, “Here’s the ferst un.” And pointed to big tree that had apparently fallen over in a storm. It came up to about Harry’s neck in thickness, much thicker than what they needed. On the other hand, if they quartered it, the individual pieces would be about the right size to make a really solid siege engine.

Sweetie Belle studied the tree trunk carefully. She transformed into her unicorn self, and slashed a cut into the trunk. Then she paced down the length, stopped and made a second cut. She repeated this several times. She turned and trotted back.

“If we quarter the trunk,” she said, “We should have all the wood we need!” She grinned at Harry. “You start here, and I’ll start at the next one. Whoever finishes first, starts the next. Okay?”

Harry shrugged and transformed. He planted his hooves solidly, pointed his horn carefully, and cast the cutting spell taught to first years, only with as much power as he could put into. There was a thud as the trunk settled to the ground, separated from its roots. A moment later there was a second thud and his piece settled a bit lower.

He trotted past Sweetie and Neville, who were cutting off the lower branches on their piece of the trunk — his piece had been too low to have branches — and found her third mark. After that cut, it was his turn to help Neville cut off branches as Sweetie passed him.

Hagrid watched with an amused expression. Occasionally he glanced into the woods around them.

Once they had finished sectioning the trunk, Harry pushed the remainder out of the way. Then he pushed the piece he had just topped sideways. Screwing up his face in concentration, he cast the water-repelling spell they had learned to use in Equestria when working with wood. He slowly walked along the length of the cut piece, forcing the sap out the end and reducing the weight of the trunk by almost half. And making a big puddle of sap at the end. Sweetie was doing the same to her piece. They repeated this until they reached the roots. Removing the sap now reduced the amount of sap they ended up removing from their ears and coats later.

They managed to finish with only getting their hooves thoroughly soaked in sap. Harry counted it a win as they had managed to keep it out of their coats.

Sweating with the effort, Harry and Sweetie lifted the bottom piece in their magic and started back to Hogwarts. Hagrid picked up a couple of the thicker lower branches, after Neville had trimmed them to a shorter length, and brought them along, just in case. It took them five trips to get all the pieces to the lawn.

When they finished, and sat panting beside the pieces, Hagrid sat down beside them. “That were impressive,” he said. “I know some wizards what would have had problems doing that.” He looked at the pieces. “What’ll ya do now?”

“We’ll split the bottom piece into quarters, those will form the sides and two supports,” Sweetie said. “Then do the same for the second piece, but also cut two of those sections in half to form the ends of the frame with the other two sections forming the trough. The third piece will be additional supports and the pivot. The fourth will be the throwin’ arm, and the rest we’ll cut up and use to make the rock box.”

She looked up at him hopefully, “Would you have any rope you can spare? About a hundred yards?”

He laughed. “If not, I’m sure the house-elves would be thrilled to make some for yeh.”

With the help of the cohort, and a liberal application of magic to do the splitting, piercing, trimming, heavy lifting, and holding, they managed to finish the pegged wooden construction before dinner. They had discovered that slightly shrinking each peg before putting it in its hole and then restoring it made for exceptionally tight holds. Those pegs would not be shaken loose!

All that was left was attaching the sling ropes and cup, and filling the rock box. Other students had noticed what they were doing, but had been puzzled at their explanation that they were building a wizard-whipper.

At dinner Harry noticed that the Headmaster, once again, looked tired. Which he thought was strange, given that he hadn’t looked anywhere near as tired after battling a fierce basilisk.

After dinner, they retired to their dorm to work on their day’s assignments. Harry saw, as they were settling in to their study table, that there was a new notice on the bulletin board. When he checked it during a break in studying, he saw that they would be having their first broomstick flying lessons on Thursday. Which, on the schedule Dumbledore had changed, meant it was actually going to be the day after tomorrow, Friday. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if he would actually learn anything in that class, given that he and the fillies had been flying almost every day since they had first visited the Weasleys.

However, based on what he heard some of the other students say, not everyone in Gryffindor had had that sort of opportunity, such as the muggles and most of the half-bloods whose parents had toed the line about not being seen by muggles. Such as Neville, whose grandmother had never let him near a broomstick. Given the extraordinary number of accidents he had, even with both feet on the ground, Harry thought she’d had good reason.

The Gryffindor First Years managed to complete their assignments before curfew, in between petting and combing sessions with the older Gryffindor and Ravenclaw girls, and headed upstairs to collapse into bed. The fifth years seemed especially appreciative of their time with the cuddly ponies.

۸-_-۸

Thursday, or rather Wednesday on their schedule this week, was rather quiet, Harry was relieved to see. He had hopes that the day would be like the previous — no disasters centred on the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Instead, he reserved his dread for tomorrow, when they would be taking broomsticks in hand — with the Slytherins. If anything foreshadowed disaster, Harry suspected that it involved putting those two Houses together. It had certainly borne out that truth in Potions class!

What was puzzling was how unlike Slytherin ideals Malfoy was. Slytherins were supposed to be sneaky and underhanded, to be concerned only with themselves — that they did not have “friendships” so much as alliances. Crossing a Slytherin was supposed to be dangerous, as you never knew when they would get their revenge. And when it did happen, the person doing the act was never the one offended. They would trick, bribe, or manipulate a “friend’ in another House to do the dirty deed. And while they were leaders, they led from the back, never risking themselves or placing themselves where they could come to harm. Or be blamed for the debacle that might result.

Malfoy was brash, unafraid to attack a problem in person and up front — just like a Gryffindor. If something bothered him, he told you, he didn’t smile and back away, determined to hold a grudge and get you back later, when you least expected it. He made sure everyone knew he was the leader. That he was in charge, and Merlin help the idiot who tried to say he wasn’t. He felt everyone else should toe the line he drew. Discretion was not only a word he didn’t know the definition of, it was apparently a word he had never heard.

His continual “My father thinks . . .” or “Father said . . .” were already beginning to become infamous. He had no concept of stealth, nor of hiding your talents until you could derive the most advantage at their unveiling. The broom-stick class tomorrow was certainly becoming clear evidence of that.

Malfoy had firmly established himself as a braggart as he loudly complained about the House Quidditch teams excluding extraordinary first years, such as himself, and told long, boastful stories which always ended with him narrowly escaping Muggle helicopters. Harry had to wonder how he knew about helicopters when no other purebloods seemed to know the word or how to pronounce it.

Harry considered, momentarily, reporting Malfoy’s boastful stories to the Aurors, but then decided it wasn’t his place to do such a thing. While annoying, Malfoy hadn’t really been that much of a bother to him or the fillies. Neville and Ron, on the other hand, were favourite targets for the snobbish Slytherin. Ron, for his family’s lack of funds and large family, and Neville for his ineptitude in almost everything.

۸-~-۸

Castor was once more in the meeting room at Number Ten Downing.

He and the two Equestrian agents, Drop and Heartstrings, had spent most of the day at Bassingbourn learning the basics of handling guns. It had been clear that they were still learning how to use their fingers, as they tended to fumble things when loading the pistols and handling the ammunition.

They would be there for the next week. By the time they finished, they would, like most recruits, have a very thorough understanding of guns, and be able to field-strip an unfamiliar jammed rifle or pistol and reassemble it in moments. Unlike most recruits, with such a short course, they would also be qualified sharp-shooters in both pistols and a range of semi-automatic and automatic weapons — fifteen-hour days concentrated just on shooting tended to have that result.

And while the staff had been unhappy at having a class of just two, it did allow them to compress the normal thirteen-week course. They could ignore the Personal Training, hiking, and aspects unrelated to actually shooting — these two recruits didn’t need to learn how to construct an invisible sniper’s blind in the forest. That and the fact they had easily evaded capture while catching their instructors in camouflage in record time had shown the lack of need for that part of the course.

Castor expected their magic played a large part in their apparent skills at camouflage and detection.

The instructors had also been told that asking questions regarding those two specific recruits were verboten. Their job was to bring them up to Her Majesty’s Military competence level. Period.

He had just settled into his chair when the Prime Minister came in behind Sir McColl and Sir Walker. They quickly seated themselves with the Major at the head of the table.

For a moment, they all just looked at each other. Castor opened his briefcase and started pulling books out. He slid the first one to the PM, then the next to the director generals.

“Ambassador Blueblood was kind enough to give me these. He said we may keep them. The first is,” he gestured to the book in the Prime Minister’s hands, “a general history of the wizards. The second,” he pointed to the one Sir Walker held, “is about their Auror — police — force and what they do to keep the magical world hidden. The third,” he indicated Sir McColl’s book, “is a travel book of the most popular wizarding locations in the world. They all probably have a variation of that “don’t notice it” tech the Equestrians showed us. Knowing about where they are, maybe we can find them with surveillance photography. See how far their magic can reach and still be effective.”

They were silent for several minutes as they flipped through their books.

Sir Walker set his book down with a sigh. “All this time we’ve been working on First Contact protocols with Gallifrey when we should have prepared for contact with Narnia . . . ,” he said dejectedly.

Sir McColl said, “We did. They’re in File 17, subsection F, cabinet 231, in the basement of 140 Gower Street. First contact with the Fae courts. It basically boiled down to ‘stockpile cold iron and pray’ — we probably should update it.”

“And now we’ve got a situation more akin to that yank sci-fi film ‘They Live’ mixed in,” Major said. He looked over to Castor. “Might the Equestrians be interested in helping us come up with a workable strategy in dealing with these wizards?” He looked at the two directors, “And if not, what can we do on our own?”

Sir Walker said, “Well, we’ve already got surveillance cameras on The Leaky Cauldron address. We can’t see it, in person, but the cameras pick it up perfectly. We’re building a dossier on the ones we see going in and out.”

۸-_-۸

Because they had Astronomy that night, the Gryffindor cohort spent their afternoon working on their assignments instead of finishing the trebuchet. Then, after dinner, they all tried to take a short nap in the hope they wouldn’t be exhausted when they woke for the class. It sort of worked. Waking after only a few hours’ sleep was awful, but then they weren’t nearly as tired during class as they had been last week.

And this time — praise Celestia! — there were no detours after class!

۸-_-۸

The Daily Prophet’s Friday edition gave Dumbledore heartburn the moment he saw it: Completely crossing the front-page in all caps and bold was a two-line headline, BASILISK KILLED HOGWARTS STUDENT! Below that a smaller headline blared: Dumbledore kills Salazar’s Thousand-Year-Old Basilisk! A picture to one side of the article, and below the headlines, showed the basilisk in the witches’ toilets glaring out at the readers. Two smaller pictures showed Myrtle from when she had first been a student and Tom Riddle in the witches’ toilets, the captions underneath identified them as victim and murderer. All three were clearly taken from the memories he had shared yesterday.

And he hadn’t even had time to contact Miss Skeeter, yet.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

Gallifrey and Narnia were suggestions from JFalk. (Thanks.)

73 — Timing

Dumbledore could only shake his head in shock and admiration at the article in the Daily Prophet. How she had discovered the story left him puzzled.

Well, it really didn’t matter who had shared the memory. He had certainly shown it to enough people Wednesday, any one of whom might have been willing to share it to gain some protection from her normally vicious poison pen.

He was quite gratified and pleased to see that while the section describing how the basilisk had been discovered and handled was short, it was factual and only strayed into the fantastical as Rita tried to imagine how the fight between Dumbledore and his three professors against the basilisk might have happened. And ended leading to another article on the history and rarity of basilisks and cockatrices.

That there was a second article, deeper inside, which exonerated Hagrid had been surprising.

Rita could not fault Dumbledore’s handling of the problem. He had discovered the problem and dealt with it immediately, while keeping the students and staff as safe as possible. She had probably found that exceedingly frustrating, given her track-record for attacking famous people with innuendo.

Below the fold was a second headline taking up half the page, Tom Riddle is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! A smaller headline beneath it declared, Half-Blood Orphan Fooled pure-bloods for a Decade!

The teasers under the headlines on the front-page led to stories inside that were almost completely factual recitations of what he had presented to Amelia, Cornelius, Augusta, and Lucius, and many others, on Wednesday.

Dumbledore was most impressed that Rita had actually talked with the proprietors of Borgin and Burkes, rehashed Hepzibah Smith’s death and how their valuable heirlooms had gone missing, and had even managed to hunt down some of the adults who had been children at the orphanage. The history of the Gaunts was even dredged up, with her questioning if things had happened the way everyone had thought.

The surviving orphans’ descriptions of the moody, vicious, and decidedly not pure-blood Tom Riddle were very eye-opening. Especially as they all repeated the story of how his destitute mother had died while giving birth the same day she found the orphanage, with no trace of his father except the name, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

All-in-all, Rita made Tom Riddle out to be quite a villain before he became the mass-murderer known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Still, he decided, the article could have been much worse. And it actually did a good job of knocking Tom Riddle down from the pedestal on which many wizards and witches had placed him. Those pure-bloods who had been surreptitiously helping the Dark Lord ten years ago would be dismayed over how he had pulled the wool over their eyes, and regretting every knut they had given him.

A strong wizard he might have been, but to be the leader of the pure-blood movement when he clearly wasn’t a pure-blood, and then lying to them about it? That was beyond the pale to many of them. If word got around about how they had been duped by a half-blood, they would never live it down. The ones who had publicly supported him would have to deal with being laughed at by the others for being so gullible.

When Tom returned, he would find it difficult to regain the financial backing he had before. And the families that had supported him, would not do so again, simply for the insult of being grossly lied to by him. Yes, when he returned he would find few friends willing to help him.

It was the next article that had him concerned.

The other half of the page below the fold was the article He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Lives!

It laid out in clear terms that the Dark Mark worn by all the Death Eaters was a barometer of how close the Dark Lord was to returning, and followed with a history of the Dark Mark and what was known about it. That was fine. That was information he had shared via his memories.

It was that Rita specifically named Lucius Malfoy as being in the group that discussed this event. And that he had confirmed that the Dark Mark revealed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had not been killed. That the Dark Lord was lurking about as a spirit. And, she had slanted the article to make it look like Lucius had taken a more active part in confirming the facts, attributing to him facial expressions that implied he still supported the evil wizard.

How had she known Lucius had seen this memory, and what he had said?

Dumbledore had not disclosed to any of the others he had shared the memory with Lucius on Wednesday. He knew Amelia, Cornelius, and Augusta would never have mentioned what they had seen to the reporter.

Amelia wouldn’t simply because it would implicate Lucius and draw his attention to her and her department — and she didn’t need yet another reason for him to be attacking her politically in the Wizengamot! Not to mention that she detested talking to the witch reporter. Rita had written too many stories critical of the department and Amelia’s qualifications to head it!

Cornelius wouldn’t because he still adamantly refused to believe that Voldemort was a spirit and not dead. And as for Augusta, he couldn’t imagine her contacting the Daily Prophet about something that had nothing to do with her family.

Dumbledore knew Lucius would never divulge what he knew about the Dark Mark to someone who didn’t already know. The Death Eaters knew what it meant, no one else did. Those that had managed to avoid the Ministry’s net ten years ago would single him out. They would attack him for making public knowledge which they felt should have been kept secret. If everyone knew the Dark Lord was coming back, they would begin preparing.

How had she gotten that information?

Fortunately, Rita did not mention how the mark could be used to trace the Death Eaters and to even find the Dark Lord himself! Albus was sure it was because she didn’t know that bit of information. He couldn’t imagine her not working it into a story pushing the Ministry to track the Dark Lord down and deal with him once and for all.

As it was, she was already raising the baying hounds demanding Cornelius increase the budgets for the Aurors and Creatures departments to deal with this problem.

The first clear pictures of the Atlanteans, with their names, to grace the Daily Prophets’ pages were buried way in the back, Dumbledore was relieved to see. The other headlines just over-powered that story.

Dumbledore spent the rest of the morning with his floo locked closed while he thought about everything he had learned this last week. And he spent several hours in his pensieve, reviewing what he had already knew. Something didn’t add up.

۸-~-۸

The next morning, Friday, was their Thursday schedule. Harry probably should have been worried that technically it was Friday the Thirteenth, but he was too relieved that even though it was Friday, and the thirteenth, they would not have Potions class today! They had managed to dodge that bullet!

On the other hand, that meant they had their first flying lesson today on Friday the thirteenth. Not exactly an auspicious day to start anything dangerous. Or even not dangerous.

Professor Quirrell had seemed quite annoyed with today’s Daily Prophet, brought by the parliament of owls. The rest of the hall had been enthralled with the in-depth reporting on the events they had missed Tuesday while they had been in Hogsmeade. The revelation that Voldemort was a spirit and not dead had been a shock to many. Neville had almost passed out when he read the part about Death Eaters becoming more active the darker the Mark became. He had had to rest his head beside his plate for several minutes.

Even though Harry, Hermione, and the fillies had all heard Twilight say the snake was nearly fifteen celestials long, seeing the picture in the paper had driven home just how big that snake had really been.

During the parliament of owls bringing the post, a barn owl landed in front of Neville. His grandmother had sent him a small package. After opening it, he excitedly showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

“A Remembrall!” he explained happily as he held it up. “I forget things, you know. Remembralls tell you if you’ve forgotten to do something. See, you hold it tight like this.” The white smoke had turned scarlet. “If it turns red — oh . . . .” His face fell, and he sighed. “You’ve forgotten something . . . ,” his voice trailed off.

Harry had been paying more attention to the magical device than he should have, he realized. Draco Malfoy, after opening his own package from home, had walked over to the Gryffindor table, too curious at what Neville’s grandma had sent her grandson to stay away. He deftly snatched the Remembrall out of Neville’s hand.

Professor McGonagall could spot trouble quicker than any other teacher, she was there in a flash. “What’s going on?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor,” stammered Neville.

“Just looking,” Malfoy said scowling at having his fun cut short. He quickly dropped the magical item back on the table, and he strutted away as if he had meant to do that, anyway.

After the Slytherin had left their table, Harry looked at Ron and then Neville, who was still staring at the scarlet Remembrall with a puzzled and worried expression.

“It’s too bad,” Harry said, “That someone doesn’t report all those stories Malfoy bragged about yesterday to the Aurors. They probably wouldn’t take it seriously, but it would be hilarious if they did.” He grinned at the other two. “Can you imagine his face when he hears that an Auror wants to talk to him about letting a muggle helicopter see him?” They all snickered at that. “And the moment he says, ‘My father,’ they’ll laugh in his face.”

The rest of the day was like the previous, right down to the bragging Malfoy did at lunch about his broomstick prowess.

All the Gryffindors hurried down the front steps at three-thirty for their first flying lesson. It was a perfect day, clear and breezy. They strolled down the sloping lawn, the grass rippling under their feet, toward a smooth, flat lawn. The forbidden forest’s trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins had beaten them there. Twenty broomsticks lay in neat lines on the ground. Fred and George Weasley had complained to Harry and the fillies that the school brooms were unreliable, some of them vibrated if you went too high, others drifted to the left or right when flying, depending on which broom you got.

Madam Hooch, their teacher and a witch with short, grey hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk, arrived moments later. She put her hands on her hips. “Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Line-up by a broomstick. Come on, move it.”

Harry’s broom was old, he saw, and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. He wished he had his Nimbus.

“Put your right hand over your broom,” ordered Madam Hooch, “and say ‘Up!’ ”

There came a chorus of “UP!”

As Harry had expected, his, the fillies’, Hermione’s, Ron’s, and Ginny’s brooms all leapt straight into their hands. Others were not so fortunate. Calls of, “UP,” became more strident.

Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. The quaver in Neville’s voice clearly indicated his reluctance to leave the ground.

The professor worked her way down the rows of students showing them the proper way to mount and hold their brooms, and correcting their grips. Her telling Malfoy that he’d been doing it wrong for years was delightful to hear for Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor cohort.

And that was, naturally, when things started to go wrong.

Neville, nervous, jumpy, and frightened of being left behind, had somehow launched himself four, five, six, seven yards and then even higher! Everyone watched, horrified, as he came crashing down, terrifying them all.

Madam Hooch had said he had broken his wrist, to both their intense relief and dismay.

After issuing an order to leave the brooms or else be kicked from school, she had taken the boy off to the hospital wing.

Malfoy had barely waited for the two to be out of earshot before he burst into laughter. His laughing comment calling the unfortunate boy, “a great lump,” got the other Slytherins to laugh as well.

Parvati Patil, annoyed at their laughing at someone getting hurt, said “Shut up, Malfoy.”

Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl, belittled Parvati, calling Neville a fat little crybaby.

Malfoy, unable to stop himself darted over to where Neville had landed. “Look!” he said, and held up Neville’s Remembrall.

He held up Neville’s Remembrall.

Harry sighed. Some people just couldn’t help themselves, they had to hurt others to make themselves happy. And Malfoy was just like Diamond Tiara in that respect. He stopped closer to the boy. “Give that here, Malfoy,” he said.

Everyone was watching.

“You want it back, Potter?” Malfoy jeered, and smiled nastily, “Then come and take it!”

Harry moved closer and repeated his order. “Give it here!”

Instead, Malfoy jumped onto his broomstick and took off. He hadn’t been lying, Harry saw, he could fly really well. He flew up to and hovered beside the topmost branches of an oak. “Come and get it, Potter!” he taunted.

Harry grabbed his broom.

“Don’t!” shouted Hermione. “Madam Hooch told us not to move — you’ll get us all into trouble.”

Before Harrry could move, though, an orange and purple streak shot by him.

Malfoy jinked to the side suddenly, with an almost audible screech. Scootaloo, flapping her wings lazily, hung in the air right beside him, her forelegs crossed. She glared at him angrily.

“Give it back,” she said with a hint of threat in her voice, holding out one hoof for the orb.

Harry held his broom tightly, in case Scootaloo needed help. Not that he expected her to.

It took Malfoy a moment to stop staring and shake off his surprise, but he quickly regained his haughty expression. “Do you expect me to listen to a horse?”

Both Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom gasped. They looked as if they were about to go for their brooms and join Scootaloo, to the confusion of the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins.

“Oh, Celestia, now he’s done it,” Harry said quietly. “She’ll never forgive him for that.”

Draco swung his broom left to fly off in another direction, only to find himself face to face with the pegasus, again. Her posture was barely changed. And she had the same slow wingbeats and outstretched hoof, but now she looked furious.

Loud enough for the crowd below to hear her clearly, she declared, “I said. Give. It. Back.”

Malfoy gave an annoyed grunt and swung right instead, then left, then right again. Each time, the pony was in front of him again, her glare unchanged as she easily kept pace with him even when she flew backwards.

A frustrated growl came out of Malfoy’s throat. He swung around in a half-turn. “You want it?” he yelled. He drew his arm back behind his head. “Then catch it!” He threw his hand forward as hard as he could.

And almost threw himself off his broom. He scrambled to hold on as he realized he hadn’t thrown anything.

His confusion did not last long as he heard the dwindling sarcastic cry of “Thanks” as something flashed past him.

It was Scootaloo, flying back towards the group and holding the Remembrall securely in her hooves. She had snatched it right out of his hand.

She landed and handed it to Harry. He stowed it in his pocket and dropped his broom. Smirking, he watched a scowling Draco land by the rest of the Slytherins.

“MISTER MALFOY!”

Everyone turned to see Professor McGonagall striding towards them.

Draco looked even whiter than usual.

“Never — in all my time at Hogwarts —”

Her glasses flashed furiously as she caught up to the class, “— how dare you —” she said. “Madam Hooch specifically told you all to remain off your brooms while she conducted Neville to the Hospital Wing!”

“But, Professor, Scootaloo was also flying!” objected Theodore Nott.

She turned and looked at the pegasus.

Scootaloo looked down guiltily, but then glanced over at her broom still on the ground. She turned back to face her Transfiguration’s professor gave her an innocent smile as she ostentatiously stretched and folded her wings.

After studying the pegasus for a moment, Professor McGonagall turned back to Draco. “But, unlike you, her broom is on the ground, as opposed to the one you are currently holding in your hand!”

“But Scootaloo —”

“That’s enough, Mr. Nott. Mr. Malfoy, follow me, now.”

Professor McGonagall swept off towards the castle; Draco had to jog to keep up. Harry and the other Gryffindors watched, stifling their laughter at Malfoy finally getting blatantly caught out by a professor. Harry couldn’t resist it. He said, in as snooty a voice as he could manage, “My father will not be pleased to hear this.”

The Gryffindors finally broke out laughing and giggling while the Slytherins scowled. Although, Harry noticed, Miss Greengrass and her friend Davis seemed to be nearer to smiling than scowling as they watched Draco trailing behind their professor.

They saw Madam Hooch meet Professor McGonagall at the front doors. There was a brief exchange of words, then their flight instructor headed their way. The Gryffindors quickly brought themselves under control as Scootaloo, reluctantly, changed back to person. They were all standing beside their brooms when she reached them.

As were the Slytherins, still scowling.

The rest of the lesson was fairly straight-forward as those unfamiliar with brooms practiced turning, climbing, slowing, and descending. The more advanced students were allowed to engage in a game of tag, limited to no higher than ten feet. Staying under the limit she gave them for speed was not an issue as the brooms were clearly not going to be able to exceed it.

Then, when class was over, she allowed the students to keep practicing as long as they wanted, and provided that they stayed on the front lawn. Scootaloo promptly dropped her broom and started flying as a pegasus.

And that was when things went wrong, again. Exactly what went wrong differed, depending on who told the story. The Slytherins maintained it was all the Gryffindors’ fault. The Gryffindors said it was the Slytherins. Harry blamed the Scootaloo and Ginny.

Tag became sprints competing against Scootaloo and Ginny. Sprints became races, races became stunt-tricks, and the whomping-willow decided the flies buzzing around in front of it were a nuisance. The Slytherins discovered the joys of being sapped, as did the rest of the Gryffindor cohort.

The whomping willow seemed content that the students had been chased away. At least its nervous thrashing had stopped and it looked like any other tree from the forest.

Sap, they discovered wasn’t nearly as easy to remove from clothes and hair as it was from skin. A few dozen sourgifies later, a trip to the dorm to change clothes, and the Gryffindor cohort was once more over at the trebuchet. The Slytherins had retreated to the castle to sulk.

And both First-year Houses were restricted to broomstick flying only under Madam Hooch’s direct supervision for the remainder of the year.

The first test of the siege engine was perfect — Harry wasn’t sure how that had happened — launching Scootaloo across the lake at a more than satisfactory speed. The other Gryffindors were a bit hesitant to risk their lives. But after watching Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Harry all go screaming happily out into the lake, the rest quickly followed suit — and all seemed well-versed in the art of staying afloat once they hit the water. And hitting the water at fairly high speeds did seem to work well at removing the remaining sap from their hair.

And this time, none of the CMC had sap in their tails and ears!

When Hermione asked why they had transformed into ponies before using the trebuchet, Harry had reluctantly admitted that they didn’t know how to swim as people. She started immediately teaching them that valuable skill as they waited their turns at being flung into the lake at foolhardy speeds.

The screaming drew the attention of other students, and, thus, just as in Ponyville, the engine of mass destruction became an engine of mass entertainment. Harry even heard a few older Slytherins saying it was welcome addition to the lake.

Draco was not at dinner that evening, to Ron’s glee and Neville’s stunned surprise. However, they discovered, he had not been dismissed, as Ron had fervently hoped. Instead, he was at home, and, according the Professor McGonagall, “carefully considering his decision to directly disobey a teacher’s instruction in class.” He would, they had been told, return on Monday.

The Slytherins seemed to think it was Harry’s fault the boy had gotten into trouble. On the other hand, it did impress upon the entire First Year class that they disobeyed the teachers at their peril! Many who might have been inclined to bend the rules decided that caution was the word of the day, week, and month.

The fillies just resolved to be extra careful in their attempts at finding their cutie marks.

After dinner, and as the tired Gryffindors were tackling their potions’ assignment due tomorrow, Harry noticed a new rule listed with the others on the ‘ATTENTION ALL GRYFFINDORS!’ list:

5) Outside of Quidditch matches and practice, pegasi are restricted to a top speed of 40 mph.
a) Pegasi are not allowed to participate in official Quidditch matches (You must be a person and riding a broom).

The Gryffindor First Year cohort spent the rest of the evening working to make up for their interrupted Boils’ Cure potion from last week. Three of them watched Neville and Sweetie Belle, each, as they prepared their potions. The two managed to complete the task without melting their cauldrons, causing any explosions, or spontaneously creating unknown potions with mysterious properties.

The colours were not precisely spot-on. However, the colours were much closer to what the students were supposed to hand in than they had been in class the previous Friday.

With those complete, and stored properly in unbreakable bottles, the cohort relaxed, with the ponies being the centre of attention.

۸-_-۸

Fridays — well, it was actually Saturday, but they were having their normal Friday schedule today — would continue to be the bane of the Gryffindor/Slytherin First Years as long as Sweetie Belle was allowed to try to make a potion, Harry had decided.

That she was a delightful person was without question. That he was almost always glad to see her, and the other fillies, was equally certain. Sometimes, when he had been alone in his room in Twilight’s castle, especially when the Cutie Mark Crusaders were grounded, he had missed them. Just having them in the same room, or knowing they were in the next room, would have been a soothing. During the school year being grounded hadn’t been so bad because at least then he got to see them in class. But in the summer? Even distracting himself with magic and reading had only lessened the feeling of missing them at the end of the day.

But not today. Oh, no. He wasn’t missing them in the slightest. Uh-uh. In fact, that was why he was currently hiding in the broom-closet on the third floor in the right-side corridor. He was hoping that Fluffy being behind the door that was only a few yards away would be sufficient to keep his pursuers at bay.

He had always wondered what it would be like to be the popular kid in class, instead of at the very bottom and a target for every mean-spirited prank anyone could think up. Even in Equestria he hadn’t been the popular kid. His unusual coat colouring had worked against him, just as it did Pipsqueak.

Although Pipsqueak, according to the mares and fillies, was “cute.”

Harry had friends — the Cutie Mark Crusaders — true, and better friends couldn’t be found in either world, as far as he was concerned. But he had never been what anyone would call popular.

Until today.

And in consideration of today, he decided, being popular was not what he had expected. And definitely not what it had been described to him as being. And not something he would ever really want. Experience was a great teacher.

He shook his head as he remembered how the day had started out — the girls had traipsed into the boys’ dorm room through the trunks to see if he was awake yet.

The fillies had been asked a few days ago why they always came to get Harry. They had just stated that they always woke Harry up at home. Which had led the boys to asking if they all lived together. Harry had said, “No,” of course, and then explained that they always woke before he did whenever they slept together.

Which had led to some more embarrassing moments as he had fumbled his way through explaining why they had been all sleeping together. His clarification that they only did that during sleepovers hadn’t been well received. His amplification that they always did that as ponies hadn’t really helped things at all. His final declaration of, “It’s complicated!” had been met with doubtful nods.

The girls’ giggling in the background had not been helpful at all. Every morning since then, the other boys just ignored the girls and made sure their curtains were closed when they went to bed. They did not open them until they heard the girls and Harry leave the room.

Harry was getting very good at dressing in his bed. Liberal application of sticking charms let him set out his day’s clothes against the headboard the night before.

On the other hand, why was it that not only were the fillies and Hermione coming through to the Gryffindor First Year Boys’ room, but it had grown to include Ginny, Parvati, Faye, and Lavender?

Still, even this morning the other boys in the dorm had been giving him narrow-eyed looks, obviously questioning what they had been told.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

Thanks to Senko for the impetus to Rule 5.

75 — Changeling Times

She had finally succeeded.

She was really rocking now!

Dead silence answered her.

She was so lonely. Soo, soo, very lonely.

Ever since that horrid day almost a year and a half ago.

Queen Mother had sent them all to that Canterlot place, with the promise that they would go hungry no more. All they had to do was crush the resistance of the ponies and everything would be alright. It should have been easy. She would handle the three Princesses, they would handle the ponies. And with the Princesses out of the battle, the ponies would have been easy to handle — the lings, after-all, had out-numbered the pony soldiers by at least a hundred to one.

They had known that not all would survive, but the losses would have been acceptable. She, herself, would have gladly died to ensure the hive prospered as Queen Mother had promised. And she knew her brood-sisters would all have remembered her, and the others who perished. Every new generation of nymphs would have been told her name, Drone Infiltrator Cadet 370,456LE, or Elly Fifty-six, by her brood-sisters.

She, figuratively at least, shook her head. Now was not the time to brood on what had happened, on what could have possibly created that great wall of pink that had thrown them from the city, killing thousands, over half the hive, in a few moments. The sheer number of them had paralysed her in agony.

She had miraculously survived while her sisters had died. She knew she couldn’t be the only ling to have lived, though. Her older sisters had been all much stronger and sturdier than she. And she had seen them thrown by the thousands out of the city, in all directions.

But by the time she had recovered the hive-link was quiet, except for the agony of the dying — all other thoughts buried under the pain.

And now, it was quiet.

Dead quiet.

As dead as a rock, quiet.

It had never before been quiet. It was as if Queen Mother had severed her link, cut her losses to the few who had survived near her. But that was impossible. Queen Mother would never do anything like that. She would never abandon her children like that.

Elly could only conclude she was the only survivor this side of Canterlot.

Hence, her current position.

As a rock.

Under a walkway that led to a portal.

A portal to a whole new world.

One that was not dominated by ponies whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to hunt and kill her.

She had heard the rumours in the Playpark where she had hidden as a pony-sized rock. She hadn’t really moved from that spot in weeks. No real need to move — why take a chance on being caught?

“What do you think they’re building?” she had heard one mare ask another as they lounged on the sunny-side of her rock during the late summer.

“I don’t know, but the Guard is everywhere there!” her beau had answered. “And working all night, too, Applejack told me.”

“Whatever it is, I’ve heard the Element Bearers are going there nearly every day, and even spending the nights!”

The first mare had snorted. “And not just them! I overheard Pipsqueak complaining to his parents that the Cutie Mark Crusaders had disappeared, completely!”

There was a long pause, then the second mare had said, “Huh. I thought it had been real quiet in town recently.” Elly could imagine the second one frowning as she felt the emotional suspicion and surprise, “I haven’t heard any of the Flower Sisters screaming in panic in at least a week.”

The two had both laughed, relieved, before they had snuggled a bit closer and gave Elly another boost to her love reserves as they kissed.

“Well,” said the first one, “I’ll take my peace and quiet where I can get it!”

That had set Elly off after dark to seek out the pub in town where the gossip was thickest. And found it crowded with out-of-town ponies, all Guards. She had almost fled back to the park immediately. Instead she had transformed into a bat and snuck in the back door to hide in the rafters.

And learned of the portal.

A portal to another world.

One that wouldn’t have ponies searching for lings everywhere.

For the next two weeks she had snuck around after dark acquiring as much love as she could, even taking a chance and substituting for two different exhausted new-mothers. The mares got a really good night’s sleep, their husbands got some rare attention from their wives, and the foals slept peacefully with just a touch of her venom. Everypony, and her, came out ahead.

And she spent the hours between late dinner and the pub closing time listening to the guards.

The hive hadn’t needed money — everyling worked, everyling benefited. Some had harder jobs and had been given more days off to rest as compensation. Others had worked at lighter jobs and had had fewer rest days. It had all evened out and everyling had been, well, not happy, but at least content and knew that as the hive prospered, so did they.

The ponies, however, used things called bits and life could be very unfair, Elly had seen in Ponyville. Some ponies had little work but much in the way of rest days and objects they could buy, while others worked very hard for very little in return. She couldn’t really understand how that worked. In the hive, you always got what you needed based on how hard you worked — either physically or mentally. But then, she was just a cadet. With experience, she had been told, would come knowledge and understanding of the ponies.

And the aliens used bits, too. Except they weren’t bits. You had to trade either bits or gems for the aliens’ money. And she had neither.

That had been an easy chore for Elly. A simple trip to the most expensive looking home in the village. A little nip, a quiet suggestion, and she had a hundred bits under her wing a few minutes later. And Mr. Rich had a wonderful dream as a reward. Via venom suggestion, of course. No need to waste love on either side. Or leave evidence someone might notice.

The gems had been more difficult. She had almost had a nervous breakdown sneaking into that odd building that looked like a carousel. Sure, she had known that the Element Bearer was on the other side of the portal for the night. And that that meant the house was completely vacant. But that still hadn’t calmed her nerves any. She had taken almost two dozen gems from a bucket beside the unicorn’s sewing machine. A second bucket had had far fewer of the enchantable gems, so she could only take three. Any more and the pile looked suspiciously lower.

Fortunately, by stuffing the gems and bits, wrapped in scrap cloth, into the holes in her legs she could carry them unencumbered. It was decidedly not comfortable, threw off her balance, and left lumps in her legs if she transformed to a pony, but at least it was doable. As long as she didn’t have to fight, she was okay.

Sneaking past the portal checkpoints had been a nightmare. She had arrived just before dawn, that time when it was always darkest — the mad dash across Sweet Apple Acres as a rather large possum had taken all night. Especially while balancing the bits and gems on her back. Even wrapped in cloth secured with construction goo.

Elly had had a chance to catch her breath as she had waited for a wagon to come by with more construction materials. Darting between the wheels had been simple, as had been grabbing the wooden wheel and riding it up until she could jump off and grab the bottom of the cart.

She had almost panicked when she heard the Guard casting the ling-finding spell. Fortunately, no pony had noticed the slight green glow under the cart in the early morning light as she had frantically fought the spell. Fortunately for her, the guards had been more interested in the possibility of a ling hiding under the materials than one easily visible underneath the bed of the cart.

She had managed, barely, to keep hold of the cart while the spell had tried to force her back to being a changeling. She had managed catch herself before the transformation had gotten too far along and had returned to her possum form. And even more fortunate, she hadn’t lost any of her bits or gems. Having a pile of coins or gems suddenly clink to the ground and appear under the wagon would have been a dead giveaway of something wrong.

And it would have been her, dead, as a consequence.

It hadn’t been a clean save, though. Possums usually don’t have butterfly-like wings. Fortunately, they were the same dull-brown colour as the rest of her body, and matched the wood colour closely. She hadn’t dared to breathe until the wagon had been well past the check-in station.

Once they had reached their work area, she had forced herself to wait until the workers were distracted before she had dropped to the ground with her bits and gems and had run into the grass. Once there, she had burrowed into the ground as quickly as possible, and stayed there until nightfall.

Although the area was well-lit for the workers, it had provided enough shadows for her to make her way to the administration building unseen, which took all night. Slipping into the building was fairly simple. Her inadvertent addition of wings to her form made it remarkably easy to fly up to the eaves and sneak into the attic through an air vent.

She spent the next two weeks in their training and class rooms — hiding between the ceiling and the floor, or the attic. It was a bit of a surprise to see that the learning was going both ways, with some classrooms having pony teachers and others having the humans doing the teaching. Not to mention the magic she saw being taught both ways.

And the attic was quite nice a place to leave the gems and coins in a safe place while she explored and learned.

Their discussions on how telephones, radios, and televisions were changing Equestria were terrifying. Any ling sighted in Equestria would have everypony in the town alerted in a few minutes, and then the towns all around as well. And this floo network they mentioned — reinforcements for a besieged post were merely minutes away instead of the days or weeks they usually took.

Assuming there were any other ling survivors.

In any event, half of the lings’ tactics would become useless with those devices distributed.

She had taken advantage of her possum wings, late at night, to dart over to the building the humans were using as their sleeping quarters — and quite lush ones at that, she had thought.

That she could feed off the humans was a tremendous relief — even if it was a fraction of what she could get from ponies. And it appeared that humans were just as restless as the ponies in that regard. She had caught three couples, so far, among the “official” staff. Among the humans that were learning about the ponies, their history, and their “achievements,” she had caught double that number.

Still, their love had managed to keep her topped off on what she could keep. She wished she could store the excess in something, but she would never get back here to access it once she reached the other world. That made it a useless exercise.

She had far more luck gathering love with the guard ponies in their barracks.

Elly had carefully studied the humans whenever possible. The attic, though small, did provide her with enough room to experiment, so she at least knew how to crawl and became somewhat used to the idea of fingers, toes, and clothes. It was a lot like her training with the Minotaur form, but better balanced.

She had even ventured down and bit one of the sleeping humans to see what would happen. The answer was . . . not much. With him being asleep she couldn’t tell if he would respond to her commands or not. On the other hoof . . . hand, that he didn’t have any obvious reactions to her venom was also a relief.

The classes on how magic seemed to work in the new world on the other side of the portal were fascinating, and she made sure to study the students’ books at night in the attic. She managed to steal one of the books they were using as a textbook — with the useful spells a guard might need. Things such as the shrinking and enlarging spells, the undetectable expansion charm, the sticking charm, and a dozen others oriented towards battle and safety. It even included a variation on the ling-revealing spell that they called an animagus-reversing spell.

That was the big advantage the ponies had over the lings. Their unicorns were much better and more versatile at casting spells, their pegasi were by far faster flyers, and the earth-ponies were simply stronger in every way. The lings succeeded by avoiding open battles, using surprise sneak attacks at close quarters, and always making sure they out-numbered their victims. And hiding that they even existed. Or rather, had existed.

The spells were difficult to cast, for her, but they did work, mostly, she was happy to see — just not as well as they did for the ponies. That they could also use those things called wands that she could buy and use for magic in the other world was fascinating. If it was true, and she could learn to use one, then she would be on an even level with the unicorns!

Once she knew as much as any of the guards, and her reserves were once more completely full, she decided to move on.

She made her way, slowly, over several days, to the second wall. It took a nerve-wracking night to climb up one side and down the other. Sticking to the shadows in the corners was difficult, but she managed.

Now for the hospital and then the portal.

۸- ̫ -۸

One advantage to the way the ponies kept everything here so well-lit was that the owls and other predators kept their distance from the noise and activity. Of course, the noise and activity also tended to keep the small rodents she was imitating in their burrows, and reduced the predators’ interest in searching the area!

The hospital on the other side didn’t take more than a few days for her to scope out. And discover how fragile these humans were! They weren’t nearly as durable as even the ponies, never mind how tough a changeling was! Things that wouldn’t even scratch a pony left long bleeding cuts! And simple falls that she or a pony would shake off could very easily kill a human! She could only shake her head in wonder.

That the ponies were allowing humans to heal humans was . . . strange. And the ponies only approached the patients when they were asleep. Didn’t the humans have their own hospitals?

Or was it that the spells the ponies had worked better on this side of the portal than there?

Why were the ponies hiding their presence from certain non-magical humans and not other non-magicals? It made no sense to her.

On the other hand, the stories the ponies told in the training building of why the magical humans hid from the non-magical did make sense. It was almost like how the lings hid from the ponies. Only the wizards and witches didn’t have to change form. And they didn’t need love.

Or were the ponies using the humans as test subjects? None of her instructors had ever mentioned the ponies being that ruthless. Although, it seemed that last might be the case as she saw them re-growing entire limbs on the humans, something she didn’t think the ponies knew how to do.

Doing that was something that required very large love reserves for a changeling — a rare grace from their Queen Mother only for the most important of her advisors and commanders. Most drones made do, or, if they used more resources than they could justify, their love reserves were added to the hive’s love pool.

She studied her book whenever she wasn’t spying on the ponies and humans. Satisfied that she had learned all she could from the . . . people . . . in the hospital, she started planning on how to get through the portal.

Her first thought was to hide in a pocket as the humans moved their patients back through the portal. But then what would the portal do to her? If she was in a pocket, and changed to whatever she would be on the other side — hopefully a human — everypony would immediately see her suddenly appear out of seemingly nowhere! Not. A. Good. Thing.

And watching as Princess Twilight and whichever of the Bearers she had with her trot on by every other day or so didn’t make things easier. Just being that close to the ones who had destroyed the lings made her quake in fear of discovery.

During the late night, when the guards were most tired and it was hardest to see, she made the dash from the hospital to the Portal walkway, dragging her bag of possessions with her. Not daring to move during the day after that, she had slept and waited for the next night. Over eight hours in the dead of the night, she carefully moved through the raked gravel under the walkway to the portal tree. She had planned to try for the portal the next evening, but seeing Princess Luna, Prince Blueblood, Princess Twilight, the Element bearers, and an escort squad of palace guards trot up the walkway that morning put a halt to those plans! Especially considering how excited Luna was and worried the rest were. Something big was in the offering.

She transformed into a rock and decided to wait. She had enough reserves to last quite a long time if she didn’t do anything. And she really didn’t want to try to run the portal when there was so much happening on the other side involving powerful unicorns and alicorns! She decided she should have stolen a jar to keep the excess love in. That would have come in handy, now.

Luna and her guard passing overhead shortly before noon had been nerve-wracking. From her emotional blast of smug happiness and satisfaction as she came through the portal, whatever had happened had been successful. From the magic sphere she was toting, and the worried state of the guards, they had brought back something very dangerous. From what Elly could hear, Luna had somehow captured a basilisk and planned to take it to Tartarus. After showing it off and bragging to her sister. And threatening a few nobles with petrification.

That the humans had needed her help was actually a relief. If they didn’t have an equivalent to either Luna or Celestia, and Twilight had felt the need to call in one of those two, maybe she had a real chance. And if the humans couldn’t handle a small snake like a basilisk — it couldn’t be very large based on the size of the capture sphere — then these humans shouldn’t pose any kind of a threat to her kind whatsoever. Unless she was careless. And Elly planned to be very, very careful.

She decided to wait a bit longer, a few days, before braving the portal. She spent what time she dared studying the spells in her book. She couldn’t practice them, of course, but she memorized everything there was to know about them.

That Twilight and the other Element Bearers came out and did not return the next day gave her a bit of hope, but Twilight went through later that day. Elly resolved to wait until Twilight didn’t go through. Fortunately, she overheard one of the Guards mentioning that Twilight would be going to Canterlot to meet with several Magic Specialists and would be gone all weekend.

She decided that she would make her move late Saturday night. Which left her with many hours to waste. She slept as much as she could and, now that her decision was made, she couldn’t sleep any more. Instead, her mind drifted back to that horrible day.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Every minute of that day was firmly embedded in her mind. Her brood-sisters had been the last of the nymphs to mature. There were no eggs or nymphs to tend after them. No ling would be left behind, not even the hive’s brothers. Everything had gone into preparation for the attack. Once their training had been completed, the hive had waited for the signal from Queen Mother.

When it came, they emptied the hive’s love pool, the upper ranks sharing it all, then left. She took to the air behind her more experienced brethren, as befitted her rank of cadet. Flying was tiring, but she persevered, as they all did. They could rest once the battle was over. Their only stops were to pick up the scattered infiltrators along the way, and the upper ranks getting small boosts of love that the infiltrators had collected and stored.

The sight of the city, hanging off the side of the mountain with a pinkish dome over it, was stunning. The upper ranks split and she followed the command to take the lead with the rest of the cadets. Their goal was to break through the shield and allow the more experienced drones to fight the ponies.

Hundreds died crashing repeatedly into the magical shield; exhausting themselves as they used their magic to blast at the shield. And then they were through. She was backing up for another charge when the shield just collapsed. The higher ranks, hanging back for just this moment, shot by her in a giant wave as magic blasts from the unicorns on the walls began to drop lings on every side of her. She dropped to the parapet not too far in front of her. Soldiers and other infiltrator drones had already swept across it, chasing off or capturing the ponies who had stood there. The lings outnumbered the pony soldiers in their golden armour hundreds to one.

She eyed one of the soldiers lying on the walkway, legs tied securely together with goo all the way up to his body. He glared at her balefully, a thin rope of goo around his muzzle preventing the defiant screams he voiced from being heard as anything except growls. Elly looked at him hungrily, but orders were to not feed until the city was secure. And then only in moderation. Her stomach growled, unhappy at passing a meal. But then again, she had never fed directly, before. She had always been given a cup from the feeding pond where the accumulated love gloop was stored. And what she was feeling from the guard was anything but pleasant.

She flew down to the street and checked each door she passed. Those with an x-shaped goo-blob beside the broken-in doors had already been searched. She landed beside the first unmarked door-frame. The door was broken in and she could hear hissing and screaming inside. She hurried in only to meet a squad leader coming out. “It’s clear, go to the next,” she was ordered.

Elly just flew past the broken-in doors until she reached a squad of lings that were just kicking the door in. She quickly followed them. The six lings followed the terrified emotions to the basement where three unicorns immediately attacked them with flying cutlery — she knew it was cutlery because her instructors had shown her and the other cadets pictures — and magic blasts.

It didn’t take long to disable the two adults and stick them to the floor with goo, and put more goo over their horns to prevent them from using magic. The smaller filly was quickly restrained and placed where the three could see each other — there was no need to cause unnecessary emotional distress. Doing that just reduced the amount of love the ponies produced for no good reason. And survival meant maximizing the love output of their food sources — another lesson drilled into her head by the instructors. The three were arranged so that they couldn’t help each other and possibly escape, but could easily see that the others were unharmed.

This had continued for several houses. Elly picked up over the ling-net that a big battle with the Element Bearers had cost then nearly a hundred lings before the ponies reached the palace. From what she heard, the Bearers were merciless and relentless.

But the feelings of triumph coming from Queen Mother were wonderful, and Elly thought they were close to the end. They had won and only needed to hunt down and restrain the remaining ponies.

And then it all went wrong. A giant wall of pink suddenly burst from the palace, sweeping up the lings and throwing them violently into the air at speeds that made controlled flight impossible. Elly was simply carried along like a dust mote in a tornado.

Those inside buildings or picked up too low to clear the walls, vanished off the net in a giant wave of paralyzing pain.

۸-_-۸

76 — Surviving

Author's Note

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Here’s a chapter to celebrate!
Next goal, 1,200 Likes for an extra chapter!

76 — Surviving

The pink shield dissipated after a short while, but left her still tumbling through the air. After a few minutes of struggling she had managed to turn herself to see where she was going. She could barely see, the air in her face made her eyes water terribly. Blurs to either side must have been her surviving hive-mates, by the terrified emotions they were pumping out. She was sure she was doing the same.

She didn’t dare put her wings into the airstream, they would be ripped off. Instead she used the tips of them as rudders. Others were doing the same as the technique unconsciously spread through the hive-net. Being unable to extend her wings had reduced her flight to a simple ballistic trajectory.

A forest had been getting terrifyingly closer and closer as she sank lower and lower to the ground. Hitting it at this speed would shatter her chitin and kill her. All around her she felt the sudden blasts of pain and then the winking out of her sisters.

Seeing approaching disaster, she thrust one wing forcefully into the wind blowing past her. She clipped the top of one especially tall tree instead of careening directly into it. That had bounced her a bit higher and decreased her speed at the cost of a broken leg and severely damaged wing.

She could see a village in the distance rapidly getting closer. She tried to steer, to go higher, so she could lose more speed and perhaps begin to fly to no avail. She hit another tree, cracked part of her thorax and broke another leg. She went into a spin, and barely managed to close her wings tightly to her body.

She hit the ground and bounced, tumbling — several times. She cracked even more of her chitin and one of her other legs. She finally rolled to a stop against a tree in a large pasture, the distant village now uncomfortably close. She could feel several of her hive-mates abruptly stop emoting and she briefly grieved them. Then her pain hit.

She didn’t have any reserves to speak of, but she used a little of what she did have to at least reduce the pain. Then she tried to figure out where she was and if she was safe. She heard pony voices not far away. She couldn’t tell what they said, but they were curious about what all those strange things in the sky were.

Immediately, her infiltrator instructor’s voice seemed to fill her head. “You must never be seen as a changeling!”

It took almost all of her reserves, but she changed. She felt the gentle flicker of heat as her body changed to that of a rock. Then she passed out.

Later, she woke. She didn’t know how much later. She wasn’t even sure it was the same day.

She realized that any attempt to impersonate a pony would fail spectacularly — she had no way to explain her broken body and legs — never mind that she didn’t have the reserves to pull it off. And her condition pretty much prevented her from trying to run or crawl as her changeling self to somewhere safer. Her only choice was to remain hidden in plain sight.

She resigned herself to the likelihood that she would end up making a desperate attempt to flee to the forest. Her not-yet-healed broken legs would condemn her to being caught. If not by the Guards, then by the wildlife in the forest. But she didn’t intend to just starve to death here at the edge of a park.

It would be suicide to flee during the day, though. Especially in her exhausted condition. She would have to wait until dark.

Elly hid herself where she had landed. In the Ponyville Playpark. As a rock.

And that was a fortuitous decision, that initial panicked reaction. At first, on that day, the ponies had not yet heard of the events in Canterlot, and thus were calm and relaxed. Ponies came to the playpark to have fun. The parents enjoyed watching their foals have fun. The foals ran around and climbed on the rocks strategically placed throughout, along with the slides, swings, and other equipment. Sometimes a pony would lie against or on her, in her rock form, and she could feel the love he or she had for their foal.

The first time that happened, it shocked her. But she was in too much pain to really think about it. Instead Elly just accepted the love flowing out from the mother as her foal cuddled against her in the summer sun

Later that day, the train from Canterlot must have arrived. Or maybe a pegasus flew in, she didn’t know for sure. And in her current condition, she didn’t care.

During one of her more lucid moments, she heard the ponies gossiping in near panic about Canterlot, and that the Guards had a new spell that they were to use on everypony they met. And then she saw the Guards, only two, move through the park, reassuring the frightened ponies. They had done the spell so many times they almost reflexively cast it on every pony they saw.

To Elly’s horror, the spell was designed to strip a ling of its camouflage. Well, at least, that’s what she overheard. She was not about to volunteer to see if it worked as advertised. Fortunately, the ponies knew next to nothing about lings, and didn’t know to check things other than ponies.

She knew any lings they might have captured would never divulge any of the hive’s secrets, or secrets in general about the lings. They would rather die. Just as she would.

Fortunately, nopony ever zapped a rock with that Guard spell. Other ponies? Yes. Rocks in a playpark? Nope.

Then, that night, she discovered that the adolescents liked to use the cover of her rock to exchange kisses. More love!

It wasn’t a lot, hiding as a rock and waiting for ponies to wander by. But the flow of love, sporadic though it might be, was sufficient for her needs. Gradually, slowly, she healed.

And she was so lonely. Being unable to feel even the tiniest flicker of emotion or thoughts from her sisters or Queen Mother after that first day was debilitating. The deaths echoing towards her from the forest told her how the rest of her sisters faired in that first week. If she hadn’t been in so much pain those first few days, she probably would have had a panic-attack and undone her transformation by accident. And then been caught.

By the time she began to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, she had grown somewhat used to the loneliness. Being a rock made it a bit easier to simply exist, without too much contemplation of her situation. Rocks simply endured, and so did she.

She wasn’t a rock the whole time. When her reserves were sufficiently built-up, which took months, she transformed late at night. Then she snuck over to the pub and listened under the window to the gossip. Later, daringly, she adopted the shape of a pony she had seen in Canterlot, and actually went inside. She snatched an abandoned mug before the waitress got it, and hid in a corner seat, pretending to nurse her drink along.

She didn’t dare to take any of the love that drifted around her, afraid it would somehow give away her position. However, the low murmur of conversation reminded her of the hive, in a dull, limpid manner. It was a poor substitute, but it did a tiny bit to alleviate the loneliness she felt. She pretended what she was hearing were her hive-mates.

She rarely visited the pub after the first few times. It was too worrying, depressing, and dangerous.

The winter was awful. Foals didn’t play long, and ponies didn’t linger after dark. When her reserve had once more began to reach the desperately low level, she forced herself to act. Staying in the park as a rock in winter was slow starvation — and unacceptable.

Elly built-up a pile of dirt and snow to simulate her rock shape, then hid in the attic of a boisterous family’s home. There was love flowing there — enough to survive without revealing herself. If she had been an actual Infiltrator, she would have swapped places with the wife or husband for a night or two, filled up on love, then returned to the hive to off-load what she had harvested.

But she was a lone ling with no requirements to save what she harvested and bring it to the hive on a schedule. She could afford to harvest at a distance and simply maintain her stores. She needn’t top-off her reserves and then give them to the hive. Which meant she didn’t have to take any risks to gain love.

So, she hid in the attic or under the floor in relative safety as her reserves slowly refilled.

At least, that was, until the ponies decided on the day for their Winter Wrap-up. Then it was back to the play-park, and going back to short rations until it warmed up enough for the foals to once again flock to the park. It was an unpleasant return to worring if she would have to take action to restore her reserves.

First she heard, then she saw Tirek come into town that spring. She had been terrified. How she managed to remain hidden mystified her. She barely had time to scramble into the tree before her magic simply vanished, leaving her dangling between branches in her native form where the slightest breeze might have dislodged her. Or a panicked pony might see her.

The ponies were too occupied with their own issues to notice a missing rock, fortunately for her. Then, her magic mysteriously returned. She quickly transformed and hid again, in plain sight. And hoped no one had noticed anything.

Not much later — time moves faster when you’re a rock — and still in the park, news of the ponies building an enormous wall through the Everfree came to her attention.

Several late-night visits to the pub, now always crowded with guard ponies, was nerve wracking. She copied the friends of the few guards who were too drunk to notice that their friends had either left or passed out, and queried them.

And that led her to here, waiting to go to another world where she wouldn’t be hunted.

If it hadn’t been that she knew the hive was deserted, she might have tried to return. Then she would have been hailed as a hero. And Queen Mother would have rewarded her for surviving and bringing back this valuable news.

That she hadn’t even felt the tiniest glimmer of emotion from her Queen Mother over the link merely reinforced that she was alone. That she hadn’t felt anything of even another ling on their mental network in this entire time pounded that fact home.

If there had been any lings left, the Queen Mother would have made sure that every village was visited on a regular schedule to harvest for the hive, and to find lost lings.

She hadn’t detected any ling activity in Ponyville in over a year. She briefly considered that maybe Queen Mother was avoiding this area because of the Everfree, but that didn’t make sense.

Finally, the late hour approached and she roused from her thoughts. It was time to act. The portal awaited her.

She transformed into a large dog and placed her stolen book back into a small bag — swiped it from the Guards’ Barracks — with the interior expansion spell to join her gems and bits. Then she used the shrinking spell to fit it in her mouth — why had no ling ever thought of those two spells?

Hopefully, when she was changed by the portal, she would at least have a mouth and wouldn’t lose what little she had. That would be inconvenient, at the least. Or, worse, end up with it a part of her new body and die from the shock.

It went about as she expected.

She knew the drill for using the portal, having heard the ponies remind their friends. She thought about that strange name, Little Whinging, as she pushed into the tree. There was a flash of wood, then a flash of light. She quickly forced herself into the form of a dog and rushed into one of the dressing rooms. She hid behind some of the hanging robes.

She heard a voice that said, “Hay! Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“That flash of green light by the portal and something moving.”

“No . . . and nopony is scheduled this late at night. Not without a guard.”

“No, not a pony. Too small.”

She heard a steps at the far end of the centre hallway. She moved down the room she was in towards the other door, keeping to the cover provided by the robes hanging on the hooks. It, like the corridor, was nicely lit — unfortunately.

The door to the changing room opened.

“The corridor’s empty. See anything in the stallion’s room?”

“No,” came the voice nearly over her head. “Nothing.”

“Huh, nopony in the mares’ room, either.”

“Something’s not right. I know I saw something come from the portal. And a green light.”

“Well, there’s nopony here.”

“Yeah. You’re right. There’s no PONY here! Maybe it’s a changeling!”

There was an extremely loud whistle.

The pony beside her sighed. “Look, I think you’re seeing things,” he said as he stepped further into the room.

“And if you’re wrong?”

There was another heartfelt sigh.

She felt the robe over her head start to move.

The door was still open. She burst from her cover and darted out the door.

“CELESTIA! Something just ran out of here!”

She was in a large room. Two guards, in human form, were at a table seated across from each other. One of them had cards in his hand. He was turned towards her as she charged across the room at full speed towards the exit.

“It’s a dog!”

The one seated closest to her turned and leapt at her. His chair scraped and slid across the floor.

She concentrated as hard as she could on the door handle — a green glow enveloped it. The guard crashed to the ground behind her. The handle turned. Before she could pull, the door opened towards her. One of the humans was coming in. “Who sounded the alarm,” the new human said.

Elly didn’t stop. She rammed into the side of the human’s legs and kept running.

“Ahhh!” cried her victim as she fell to the floor.

“What’s a dog doing here?”

“A dog went through the portal!”

“No! A Changeling! It used magic!”

The room behind her fell into bedlam as the guards tried to follow her.

She immediately left the wooden walkway and charged into the underbrush. It didn’t matter which way she went, as long as she put enough space between her and the guards to lose them. She leapt over a large, downed tree-trunk, a startled, “Celestia!” in her wake.

“I can’t see where it went! It’s too dark!” she heard from far behind her,

A moment later, the unicorns were casting light spells.

Incredibly, her pursuit fell off quickly! She had expected there to be pegasi on this side, not to mention earth-ponies. There certainly were on the other side.

She didn’t stop running until she reached the stone wall, which she had heard surrounded the entire estate. Adding wings to her dog was easy, and she flew over the wall. She had lucked out. From the ponies’ descriptions she had expected either a town or farm — and here there was only farmland. She kept running for a few minutes, then changed to a squirrel and climbed the nearest tree. She transformed back into a Changeling, spit the bag out of her mouth and stuck it to her chitin. Then she started flying, keeping low so she wouldn’t be spotted against the night sky. When she started to see lights from the next town through the trees, she turned left. Half-an-hour later, she was burrowing her way underground as a large mouse, dragging her bag after her once she had it deep enough. She was far, far away from the portal — she hoped.

She had made it!

Tomorrow, she would start exploring this new world.

While she waited for the next night, she slept, tired from her frantic escape. She was really out of shape due to hiding for so long without any exercise to mention. She would have to remedy that.

۸-_-۸

The less said about Sunday, the better, Harry felt. The entire Gryffindor First Year cohort had difficulty meeting each other’s eyes, especially the boys, while they got dressed. Breakfast was barely bearable as the entire rest of the school laughed at what had happened, with many falsetto voices calling out “Oh, Harry! I loooovvvveeee you, come back!” and then cracking up into laughter. The only thing that made it bearable was that ninety percent of the teasing was directed at the Slytherin and Gryffindor First Year boys and not just him. Myrtle was especially merciless against the Slytherin Firsties, when she wasn’t flirting with one of the Prefects.

Immediately after breakfast, the fillies, Hermione, and Ginny commandeered an empty classroom and dragged Harry inside. As soon as they got inside, and locked the door — which made him a bit nervous at first — they transformed into ponies. Harry copied them.

“We have to talk,” Hermione said in her no-nonsense tone, Ginny standing beside her and blushing. “What happened yesterday was unforgiveable, even if it was a love potion that caused it all.”

Sweetie Belle interrupted, “I’m so sorry, Harry,” she had said, sobbing, “please don’t hate me!”

“I don’t hate you!” Harry had quickly replied. He looked around at the others, “I don’t hate any of you. I know it’s not your fault, it’s just, well, embarrassing.” He looked down at the floor, “And a bit scary, too. You should have seen the way you were looking at me.”

Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, Ginny, and Hermione, stood at a respectful distance — they didn’t want to crowd him — and blushed madly. Sweetie Belle stood to one side of them, still crying.

“Still, Harry,” Hermione said, “The way we acted was . . . well, not how we wanted to act.” She stopped and took a calming breath. “I like you . . . we all like you. You’re a really good friend, Harry, and you’ve taught us such neat spells. We don’t want that to change.” She rubbed her front hooves together, then said. “And we want to apologize for chasing you just like all the others did.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry we put you on the spot like that. I’m sorry we chased you like cats chasing a mouse . . . not that you’re a mouse,” she hastily added. “Just that, well, we shouldn’t have done that and I’m sorry, we’re all sorry.”

Ginny mumbled her agreement and an apology.

Apple Bloom said, with a hesitant smile as Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle nodded, “Hay, we’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and you’re our herd-mate. You know we’ll always protect you and never would we make you do anything you didn’t want to do. We’re your friends above all else!” He could feel their sincerity. “And we’re really sorry we chased you like that.”

They all stood there awkwardly, looking at the floor between swift glances at Harry. He stared back at them, unsure of what he should say.

Finally, Scootaloo said, shaking her head, “Wow, Harry, I never realized just how fast and nimble you are! How come you never ran that fast in the Everfree? You would easily have out-paced us and we wouldn’t have worried so much.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you all behind, now could I?” he answered, caught off guard.

They all apologized again, and Hermione and Ginny insisted that they considered him just a good friend, but he had the feeling that maybe they weren’t being as truthful about the situation as they pretended.

The group hug afterwards was awkward, at first, but then became more comfortable and they settled into a pony-pile as they discussed what had happened. Gradually, by the time lunch came around, Harry was laughing at their renditions of the various boys, and some of the girls, caught up in the potion’s spell.

He did refuse to tell them where he had hidden, on the grounds he might need a hiding place in the future if he got them mad at him. He did tell them about his teleporting successfully. And then made them Pinkie Promise not to tell anyone who didn’t already know. It made for an ace secret. And, he thought, would come in handy.

Lunch was awkward with most of the school still ragging on the topic of Sweetie Belle’s Love Potion Number Nine — the Gryffindors weren’t sure where that name came from — and its effects on various students. But the girls closed ranks around Harry, which brought on its own teasing comments about Harry’s Harem from the rest of the Gryffindors. There were a few comments on if he was entertaining adding a few Slytherins to the pack, which were not approved of by the girls.

However, Harry wasn’t sure the ones teasing about the Slytherins weren’t actually being serious under the guise of humour.

Myrtle, though did come over to them. “Hey,” she said, leaning one hand on the table and giving the whole cohort a long look. “Are you all okay?” She frowned. “I know you all got accidentally dosed with a love potion.”

Sweetie Belle blushed and ducked her head down, refusing to meet her eyes.

“I’ve seen a lot of things happen while I was a ghost, you know,” Myrtle continued. “If any of you want to talk about it, I’d be happy to listen.” Her gaze lingered on one student. “Harry, if you want someone uninvolved to talk to, all you have to do is ask. I can give you a girl’s perspective that your friends might be too bashful or afraid to share.”

Harry looked up at her, still blushing about the topic, and thought for a moment. “Not right now,” he said slowly. “Maybe later?” He looked at his friends.

Myrtle seemed much calmer today than she had been in the previous few days. She almost seemed to glow. Her pimples were gone, he noticed, so she must have finally taken that acne cure that Madam Pomfrey had mentioned. The lack of pimples really did improve both her looks and her outlook. However, she must have tripped over something and fallen last night or this morning as she was walking a bit stiffly.

“Oh.” He frowned, looking at her. “Are you okay? You didn’t fall down, did you? You’ve been walking at bit stiffly.”

She simply laughed.

“Oh, nothing of the sort. I’m sure your girlfriends will be happy to explain it,” she said, smirking at the girls nearby. All of whom, when he looked, were blushing. He decided that was one question he could postpone asking — preferably forever. Questions that induced blushing were never good questions to ask, in his opinion.

Most of the witches at lunch seemed to notice Myrtle’s change in attitude — she was no longer shooting fiery looks at every wizard in sight — but were split on whether this was a good thing or not. The ones with boyfriends kept casting worried glances at their chosen ones, and asking if they had really gone to bed the night before as they claimed.

Some of the looks the affected First Year girls were giving Harry, though, still made him uncomfortable.

Myrtle smiled down at him, then reached over and ruffled his hair. Not that you could tell she had done anything, considering how difficult his hair was to manage, anyway.

“Just say the word,” she said, then smiled at the group. “You all did me a wonderful favour, it’s only right I pay you back — so, any questions? Come to me. Okay?”

They nodded and mumbled agreements as she turned and sauntered away.

Oliver sat beside the First Years at lunch — he had made a point of sitting with them, as did the twins and the three chasers. After Myrtle left, he introduced the new Chaser, Katie Bell, a brown-haired, brown-eyed Second Year of average appearance. Then he said, “Quidditch try-outs are scheduled for this afternoon and I would greatly appreciate it if you seven would do so.” He stared significantly at the fillies, Hermione, and Ginny. “You all played wonderfully at the Weasleys and I think you all would be a wonderful asset to the team.” After a bit more grovelling and pleading from the Quidditch Captain, the Gryffindor First Years found themselves being escorted by the Quidditch team to the pitch outside. Hermione, though, absolutely refused to participate. The other Gryffindors came along just to watch and cheer their friends.

۸-_-۸

77 — Oops

Oliver pulled out a bag of golf balls, to Harry’s surprise.

Seeing the puzzled looks on their faces, Oliver hefted the bag and explained, “The only position that needs filling at the try-outs today is the Seeker.”

What followed was a series of hard-diving catches. Oliver would launch a golf-ball out with his wand, two prospective Seekers would race each other to catch it. He launched them at different speeds, directions, and angles. And did a round-robin match where each of the five prospective Seekers raced against each other. Then the highest three scorers repeated the tests.

The final ranking was Scootaloo, Harry, and Ginny. Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Ron, while good, just couldn’t quite match the two pegasi. And Harry just seemed to be a prodigy.

“You all did just great!” Oliver said. “I’ve seen you all play at the Weasleys’ so I know you’re all pretty good at spotting the Snitch, itself, so we can dispense with that part of the drill.” He had grinned at Scootaloo, and said, “You’ll be the best Seeker we’ve ever had!”

Scootaloo looked down at the ground for a moment, then sheepishly said, “I’m really not that interested in playing Quidditch on a broom, it’s far more fun as a pegasus.”

Oliver looked as if he was about to cry, but then he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed heavily. “Yeah,” he said, “I can understand that completely.”

He turned to the others, and frowned slightly. Harry and Ginny had been neck-and-neck for most of the trials, but Harry just seemed to have a better instinctive control of his broom that Ginny couldn’t quite match. Oliver finally said, “Okay, Harry you’ll be our Seeker, Ginny will be the substitute Seeker in case Harry gets laid-up.” He looked over at the others. “Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, would you mind being substitutes for Chasers? And Ron, substitute Keeper? All four of you are far better than any of the older Gryffies, and no one else was interested in those positions, anyway.”

Ron had been ecstatic at being on the team, even if it was as a Keeper substitute. He immediately started peppering Oliver with questions and the two of them became quickly engrossed in the details of properly defending the three goal rings.

With that settled, Harry and the girls headed for the lake to join the other students taking advantage of the Trebuchet. The rest of the cohort, still embarrassed over yesterday’s incident trailed after them or found something else to do.

Harry and the five girls carved their names, and the names of the rest of the Gryffindor cohort, into the Trebuchet while they awaited their turns.

The giant squid that lived in the lake had started to get involved, fishing the students out of the water and tossing them closer to shore. Then it started trying to catch the pegasi as they flew low over the water at high speeds.

At dinner, there was a professor seated at the Head Table whom Harry had never before seen. Partway through the meal, though, Headmaster Dumbledore stood and tapped his crystal goblet. The ringing tones soon quieted the hall.

“I hope you all have had a relaxing and joyful day, a wonderful day for such an event-filled week.” He had swept his gaze across the hall, smiling with his eyes twinkling happily. “This evening it is my pleasure to introduce your new History of Magic Professor . . . ,”

The students in the hall groaned or sighed at the thought of returning to that boring class.

The Headmaster looked over to the unfamiliar wizard, who stood and smiled, waving. “. . . Remus Lupin, Hogwarts’ class of 1978.” He started clapping, with the rest of the hall joining in unenthusiastically. Now they had to start going to that class. And they couldn’t sleep late or nap in it anymore.

Harry noticed, however, that Professor Snape did not seem nearly as enthused about the new professor’s presence as the other professors. He sat with his arms folded over his chest, and glared at the wizard, his expression completely blank. Harry wondered if they had attended Hogwarts together at some point, and hadn’t gotten along very well.

Still, even if they had been hated enemies, for Professor Snape to deny Professor Lupin the normal professional curtesy for his introduction to the school seemed very childish. Then again, Professor Snape’s actions towards the Gryffindors in general, and Harry in particular, didn’t seem very mature at all.

Things with Dean, Seamus, Ron, and Neville were still awkward, until later that evening, after curfew. It started with Dean making fun of Ron, then Ron threw a pillow. By the time they were done, pillows and feathers were everywhere. And they were back to the way things had been the day before yesterday, to Harry’s vast relief.

۸- ̫ -۸

John Major once more walked into the meeting room at Number Ten shortly after the dinner hour. He stopped for a moment at seeing a purple alicorn standing on the conference table, then he bowed his head slightly. “Princess Sparkle,” he said. He continued on to his chair.

She blushed. “Sorry, just checking to see if there was any magic in use,” she said, turning to face him. “As far as I can tell this building seems okay, except for a grouping down that way.” She pointed down and to one side with a fore-hoof.

He smiled. “That should be the storage room where we put all of the paintings and photographs after our last meeting.”

She grinned at him, then jumped to the floor before returning to her human form. “Excellent. I’ll have ten unicorns ready on Monday to help you check those things. They will be waiting in Little Whinging at eight o’clock. We’ll leave it to your experts as to their schedules and where they go first.”

She nodded to Foreign Secretary Hurd and Home Secretary Baker, as well as Sir McColl and Sir Walker seated on either side of the table. Castor was seated beside Sir Walker.

“Based on the ones we’ve experimented with, we can now detect them easily. The spell makes the frames glow, so you can easily separate them out from the stacks. And the ones that can’t be moved, such as the one in your office, just be careful of what you say.”

Her grin faded and she became more serious. She shuffled awkwardly on her feet, her hands behind her back, looking for all the world like a little girl caught stealing from the cookie jar. “I’m sorry to have . . . interrupted your day . . . for this. It’s kind of . . . important.” She stopped and fidgeted for a moment. “I-I have unfortunate news for you. I’m, uh, really sorry, but, uh, early this morning, well before sunrise, one of our enemies managed to sneak through the portal into your world.” She blushed heavily.

The men all stiffened.

She swallowed. “This creature is not a pony. It’s what we call a Changeling.”

Castor had a very bad feeling about this.

Twilight pulled out a wand, which was a surprise, and tapped the table. A three-dimensional image of a creature appeared. It looked like a cross between a pony and a bug. The image slowly rotated. “This, uh, is a Changeling.” She glanced at them hesitantly.

“A characteristic of all Changelings, in their normal form, are the holes you see in its legs, horn, wings, and tail. Their colour seems to be a uniform black or very dark blue. Notice the fangs, they can inject a paralyzing/sleep inducing venom. How long it lasts depends on how much they use. It is not fatal and every victim recovers with no ill effects.” Her tone took on a lecturing quality and she became more confident.

“You’ll notice that it has both a horn and wings. Fortunately, the magic cast by the changelings isn’t nearly as powerful as that from a unicorn, neither can it fly as far or fast as pegasus, and they aren’t as strong as an earth-pony. They can lift heavier objects, compared to pegasi.”

As she paused, Castor asked, “How did something like that get past the guards without being seen?” He looked at the other men, “I mean, I’ve seen your setup over there and it looks pretty air-tight!” He looked back at her. “I can’t imagine this thing just walked in.”

She grimaced, sighed, looked down, and blushed, again. “And that’s the problem, it did.”

The Prime Minister raised his eyebrows and the other five men just stared at her.

She ducked her head down a little. “We call them Changelings because that’s what they do — they can imitate any pony they see or know. Fortunately, they can’t duplicate our strengths or our talents.”

What?” came Castor’s quick, and puzzled, response.

She shook her head and sighed. “They are the, um, ultimate imitator. They can change their appearance to make themselves look just like me, for example. If one stood beside me, you wouldn’t be able to tell us apart — not even if it spoke to you. If it claimed to be me, there’s no way you could detect the deception.

“I saw them do it when they tried to invade Canterlot last year.” She shivered. “It’s really creepy to run around a corner and see seven of you staring back at you, as well as seven of each of your friends.” She looked them all in the eyes before adding, “Or not knowing if your best friend coming around the other corner is your friend or a Changeling.”

The men exchanged worried looks.

“Can they imitate us?” came the Prime Minister’s worried question.

Twilight took a deep breath and blew it out her mouth. Reluctantly, she said, “If you had asked me yesterday, I would have said they could only copy ponies. This morning,” she tapped her wand on the table again and large dog appeared in mid-run, a slightly open door not far in front of it. The dog, while not having any really distinguishing physical features had a blue coat with orange markings! “This was found in the men’s changing room after a guard thought he saw a flash of green light from the portal hallway. As you can see, it is much smaller than the Changeling beside it on the table here.” Her confident tone was back.

“However, there is no doubt that it is a changeling. Notice the glow around door knob? That particular shade of green is a signature green of the changelings. Almost all of them cast in that colour. And none of the unicorns in the room were casting at that moment.”

She swallowed. “I checked with the guards on the other side of the portal. They saw no such animal anywhere near the portal.” She sighed, “We took apart the wooden walkway and found clear, fresh signs of a small animal, about a quarter the size of this dog, had crawled under it the entire way from where the walkway starts to the tree. It must have taken days for it to move, a little bit at a time, without being heard or seen. And the open space under the walkway that actually fronts to portal? It is smaller still.” She waved her hand at the image, again.

“Plus, studying the area carefully, there is no way a dog of any size could have made its way from Sweet Apple Acres to the portal walkway without being seen and captured.

“The only conclusion is that Changelings can imitate animals, even animals that are smaller than they are, and likely animals that are bigger. The portal area is spelled against flying animals, so the Changeling could not have simply flown over the wall or followed the path from Sweet Apple Acres.” She hesitated.

“Unless it became a bee, I suppose. They do live in a hive with a queen, and the workers are all female.” She sighed. “We didn’t want to screen out the bugs that help flowers and other plants. I suppose we’ll have to do that now — the earth-ponies won’t like all the extra work.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “But if it could do that, why chose a dog-form to escape on this side of the portal?”

She shook her head. “So, I don’t know. Maybe? A day ago I would have said no, but after this morning? I don’t know.” She sighed and looked at the two images still on the table-top, clearly depressed that this had happened.

“You have to understand,” Twilight said, almost pleading, “we didn’t even know these things existed, except as vague mythological rumours, until they attacked us last year. What little we know is from the few we captured after blasting them out of Canterlot and destroying their army. Thousands of them died, hundreds escaped, and we only manged to capture a handful. And, as you can imagine, they haven’t exactly been helpful. Unfortunately, our prisoners have all died because we couldn’t give them the food they needed.”

“What do they eat?” asked Sir Walker in a stunned tone.

“Love.”

After several seconds of dead silence, the Prime Minister said, “You’re not joking are you?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. They are emotivores. They literally eat emotions, specifically love.” She waved a hand in the air, “Oh, they can eat other things too, like vegetables, fruits, and meats, but their life-force and magic are powered by emotions.” She gave them a wane smile. “Regrettably, those other foods don’t really provide the Changelings with much nourishment. It seems they eat food, as we do, only to blend in with ponies when they’re gathering love for their hive.”

She paused, then added, “Except water. Water they need just like any other creature.”

The Prime Minister shook his head closed his eyes for a moment. “So, these changelings are like bees? Only instead of collecting nectar from flowers, they collect love from ponies? And take it back to their hive to share with the others?”

She nodded happily, “Yes, exactly! They are quite similar, right down to all the workers apparently being females. But with their ability to duplicate other animals, of both sexes, it’s sort of a moot point.”

“And you couldn’t provide them with love?” he asked, arching his eyebrows.

She blushed. “Well, the problem is more properly that we could not love them. And we didn’t trust any of them to not try to take control of any ponies who went into their cells.”

“Wait,” said Sir Walker, “What do you mean control?”

Twilight pointed at the fangs in the mouth of the Changeling. “These exude a venom that makes the victim willing to do whatever they are asked to do. It’s easy to detect, the victims are glassy-eyed when first bitten. And while it is active, the victims are very suggestible. It makes it easier to draw love from the pony that has been bitten.” She shifted on her feet. “You can’t be sure the victim won’t come back in several hours and hit your guard over the head with a club and let their changeling escape.”

She gave a small shudder. “And while they can feed from a short distance — no contact needed — convincing two ponies to make love in a dank, dark cell in the dungeons isn’t a simple task. Not to mention that after we fought off their invasion most ponies hate and fear the changelings. So, trying to generate feelings of love while knowing a terrifying monster is on the other side of the wall from you is a bit of a problem.”

She sighed deeply, “Hence, our current lack of prisoners.”

Then she frowned.

“We’re already redoing our spells to prevent anything bigger than a worm from moving over or under the walls or through the gates. Unfortunately, we don’t know that the Changelings can’t make themselves that small, too.”

“We also will be tearing down and rebuilding the building around the portal tree on this side to make it impossible for anything to sneak through like this again. And adding an air-tight building around the base of the tree in Equestria. It will be a good deal more inconvenient to use the portal, but I believe the trade-off will be worth it.”

“One thing we have managed to do, though, is to come up with runes that are effective at detecting changelings.” She opened her briefcase and stuck her arm in it. She withdrew several bundles of papers. “Here are some photographs for you, and the runes — with their explanations. You have to paint the runes at each corner of a door or window frame, or stamp them in metal at each corner. If a changeling comes through, she’s forced back into his normal form.” She sighed as she looked at the doorframe to the conference room.

“If you’re building a building, you can put the runes inside the doorframe or windowframe where they can’t be seen. Or damaged so that they no longer work. If you remove the casings from the doorframes of completed buildings, you should be able to insert slips of metal with the runes on them between the frames and the wall, keeping them hidden. This is what we are doing to every door, window, air vent, or other opening through the walls and roofs of the portal buildings.

“This will not happen a second time,” Twilight promised fervently. “Although, I’ll understand if you wish to cease talking with us about an embassy,” she added dismally, somehow managing to convey the attitude of a kicked puppy. “And ask us to maintain only minimal contact.” She sighed sadly.

She handed the papers to Castor, who was closest to her. He took one bundle and handed the rest to Sir Walker, who passed them on after taking one for himself.

They studied the papers for several minutes as Twilight nervously rocked from side to side and looked around the room. Sir McColl looked over at Twilight.

“Can you add . . . runes . . . to stun the changeling as it comes through the door?” he asked. “That would make it much easier to apprehend this creature if it should be discovered. It would also make it possible to catch one should it try to sneak in when no one was watching, such as late at night.”

Twilight pursed her lips and frowned. “It should be possible, but then I think I would have to put in a storage crystal for the magic to power the stunner.” She stood silent for a moment, then grabbed a paper and pencil from her briefcase. She stared at the paper as the pencil flew across it scribbling things, and then x-ing some out while underlining others. She filled one page, then another.

The men continued studying the papers she had given then and quietly discussing things. After several minutes, she pushed a final paper over to Sir Walker.

“That should do the job,” she said. “The stun will last at least twenty seconds, but not more than fifty. For anything longer, I need a magic gem in the setting. Then it could last for several hours.”

She pressed her lips together tightly, then said, “Because this is our fault, I will put a priority on making metal strips with the gems embedded in them.” She paused. “I’ll bring over a few hundred tomorrow to get you started. Then we’ll bring you several thousand a week. If you want to make them yourselves, I can arrange to have the gems delivered by the ton.”

The men exchanged thoughtful glances.

“Any decent stamping mill could make a million of these,” the Home Secretary said, waving the paper Twilight had given him, “in a couple of days.” The Prime Minister nodded in agreement.

“You can?” she said, clearly surprised at the number and time frame.

The director nodded, “Sure,” he said nonchalantly, finally happy to show them something the humans were much better at, “just give us a sample and the gems, and we’re good to go.”

She blinked, then said, “In any case, we’ll mount a few dozen on both sides of the portal so this won’t happen in the future. And I’ll have Princess Celestia ship us a million gems of the right size.” She frowned. “It might take a week to gather and size them correctly.” She looked at them hopefully, “Will that be sufficient? And I’ll still drop off three hundred tomorrow to get you started, with another few thousand by the time the royal gems arrive.”

After a few moments silence, the Home Secretary asked, “Do you think this changeling is a realistic threat? It is only one.”

Twilight sighed. “I don’t know. Was it sent by its Queen — Queen Chrysalis? Is it alone, or was it merely the first of more that the Queen is intending to send through?” She shook her head. “I know that the Queen doesn’t know anything about portals or she would have exploited them long ago. Could she create a portal now that she knows about them? Probably not. Could she use the lone worker as an anchor for a portal? I know I could, but I don’t think she can. Or, was the worker alone? Had it heard rumours of a new world and decided it had a better chance of surviving here, so it decided to go through the portal?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All the surviving workers we managed to trace — we still haven’t been able to catch any — fled Equestria many months ago. We haven’t seen any since then.”

She paused to think, “However, if they can imitate common animals then they could have been standing right beside our guards and we wouldn’t have known it.” She sighed ruefully.

“I suspect that this worker might have been hiding in the Everfree forest. It saw an opportunity to go somewhere where it wasn’t being hunted. Somewhere where no one knew of its existence, and therefore it would be safe.”

She looked out the window for a moment. “Whether it can feed off the love of non-magical beings such as yourselves is unknown. It might be that you’ll read in the newspapers about some weird bug-like pony found dead in a forest or an abandoned building.”

She looked back at them “Or it might survive just fine. From what we did find out, the workers collect love-food for their hive. They don’t deviate from that unless it’s at the order of their Queen. A lone worker, without a hive, is unlikely to want to call attention to itself. It would have no home to retreat to if it was found out. So, it will only feed itself when necessary, and then only sparingly.”

“So, realistically, I would say probably not, you don’t truly need to worry. But it is better safe than sorry. For all we know, it could be Queen Chrysalis.”

She quickly added, “That’s highly doubtful, as I can’t see Queen Chrysalis abandoning her surviving hive members. At the very least, if she could sneak in that close, she would have taken as many workers with her as possible. Or maybe it’s an immature queen from the hive. But I doubt that. I can’t see Queen Chrysalis allowing an immature queen in her hive, especially one who might supplant her.

“So, no. I don’t think this Changeling is a real threat to you. Now, the wizards and witches might have a problem, because it should be able to feed love off of them without a problem.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, we simply do not know.”

She stopped and thought a moment.

“On the bright side, we checked all the personnel at the portal and none of them are changelings and none of them have any memory gaps to indicate that they were temporarily replaced. We also haven’t had any pets or other animals wander into the portal area. Which means we haven’t any other issues with infiltration.”

She scanned their expressions. “I believe this is a situation of better safe than sorry.”

“How do you know these runes will work?” asked the Sir McColl.

She smiled wanly. “A guard ‘accidentally’ left a cell-door only partially locked, and several changelings attempted to escape. As soon as they left the cell, they took the appearances of other guards to try to gain themselves a few seconds of confusion when they were spotted. The runes had been carved onto the walls, floor, and ceiling of a passage, one that led to the way out of the dungeons. It was far out of their sight in the cell. The runes worked perfectly.”

The politicians were silent, considering what they had been told. Both the Home and Foreign Secretaries were regarding the princess with a bit of hostility while the Prime Minister maintained a blank expression.

“How will we know if this Changeling has started harvesting ‘love’ from any of our people?” asked the Prime Minister.

She pursed her lips. “Look for reports of people apparently being in two places at once,” she said slowly. “Or people being unable to remember doing things with their spouses. Flirting, when they are known to not be flirts.”

“Oh, sure, like that’s unusual behaviour,” said Castor somewhat sarcastically. He shook his head.

She shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry I can’t help more. As I said, we never even suspected that these creatures were in our land until they attacked us.”

She sighed despondently.

“They also kidnap victims and keep them in pods for easy harvesting of love. When you’re asleep, you dream pleasant dreams and generate the love they need. However, as I said, I don’t know if your people can supply what they need.” She paused, taking in their expressions.

“I’m really, really sorry this happened. Celestia and Luna are simply furious.” Twilight shivered and ran her hands up the sides of her upper arms.

“If you need any help in fighting these creatures, we’ll do anything we can to help you.”

The meeting went on until midnight.

Blueblood’s ambassadorial staff would soon be getting much bigger.

And the date of the portal’s, and the ponies’, unveiling would be moved up.

۸- ̰ -۸

78 — It Worked!

Monday, the Headmaster had just settled down to his morning breakfast when his floo flamed green and a head appeared, followed by Princess Sparkles’ voice. “Are you there, Headmaster Dumbledore? May we come through?”

“Of course, Princess Sparkle! You are always welcome here.” The Atlanteans are early, Albus thought, but that shall allow us that much more time to get to know one another.

Twilight stepped through and was followed by five others. The new people were all clumsy in their use of the floo, stumbling and tripping as they came into his office. Fortunately, none of them fell.

It gave him more than enough time to examine the five as they recovered. A white-haired man with blue eyes, a black-haired man with purple eyes, a brown-haired woman with blues eyes, a purple-haired woman with reddish-orange eyes, and a man with red hair that had an orange streak and blue-green eyes.

Once they had all recovered, the princess began to introduce them. “These are Professors Bill Neigh, Swan Song, High Range, Booster, and Sunburst.”

As he stood at their introductions and shook their hands — how odd that they all shook hands, unlike the others he had met — he noticed that, for the first time, the men out-numbered the women. And the last man, Sunburst, was wearing a rather fetching, long, dark-blue coat with a blue-green trim and the same colour five-point stars scattered on it. The other two women and two men wore traditional and rather non-descript robes.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” he said jovially. “We have rooms for you set aside. Have you had breakfast yet?”

The five had already scattered around his office and had begun examining the various books, trinkets, and portraits. One, he thought it was Swan Song, stared intently at a blank spot on the wall. The portraits, at least those who were awake, stared back in some consternation. The remaining portraits were waking up, and it wasn’t long before they all were paying attention.

“We have already dined,” Princes Sparkle said. “But thank you for the invitation. We don’t want to intrude, so please, finish your breakfast. ” She turned and stared at the others. “I’m sure they can amuse themselves for a few minutes.” She turned back to him and took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, I do have some bad news for you.”

He sat back down as she seated herself on one of his chairs. He took a sip of tea and then a bite of his jammed toast. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in invitation for her to explain,

She sighed and looked away for a moment, then turned back to him. “I’m sorry to say that one of our enemies has managed to sneak past our protections and is now in your world,” she said apologetically, sincerity evident in both her tone and body language.

He raised the other eyebrow and took another bite.

She grimaced. “A creature we call a Changeling has snuck into England.” At his startled look, she rushed to add, “Not a changeling as your legends describe. Not a member of the Fae.”

He leaned back, more than a little relieved, and took another sip of his tea. The legends of the fae were native to Ireland, and many scholars believed that they had been two warring tribes of wizards and witches that had been wiped out, or at least driven underground, no pun intended, by the advance of the Romans two thousand years ago.

Today, at least, there were no traces of the ones formerly known as fae.

Except for alarming stories that still circulated regarding the Seelie and Unseelie courts.

She described the events of the previous day. And the Changeling that had managed to sneak past their defences. The others had already been briefed, he saw from their disinterested looks at the displays she placed on his table.

“It lives off of love, you say?” he said, musing. He sat back in his chair, breakfast forgotten. “Like dementors? Which feed off of love and happiness, and leave only fear and despair in their wake?”

She tilted her head, thinking. “No, not like dementors. The changelings can feed passively without harming anyone, or the victim, even noticing it has been done. Although, the Changelings can force the feeding and drain their victim. Doing so leaves behind someone who can no longer feel emotions. Their victims’ souls are left intact, unlike the dementors. And the Changelings can reason as well as you or I. Plus, dementors cannot change their shape. Nor do they share, as the Changelings do, what they get with their fellow dementors. At least, I don’t think dementors do that. The books don’t say.” She frowned unhappily.

“The Changelings’ favourite tactic, apparently, is taking the form of another and fooling that other’s partner into loving them, giving them sustenance. They can only keep the charade up for a night, or maybe a day. The longer they stay with someone, the more liable they are to make a mistake and be caught. So they do not harm their prey. The one they substitute for rarely notices the lost time unless it is remarked upon by their friends. The victim usually thinks they fell asleep, or has only a fuzzy memory of the day as being like any other. And the spouse or friend doesn’t suspect a thing.

“Which means they can return many times to the same victim and never get caught.”

Princess Sparkle sighed and shook her head dejectedly, “The Changelings are very good at imitating others. If one of them were to copy me, you would never detect the deception visually or by the way I sound.”

“Like someone using poly-juice?”

She paused a moment, then said, “Yes, just like poly-juice, except there is nothing to drink, nor any time limit. The only giveaway is if they make a mistake in the personality or knowledge of the one they are imitating.”

She worried her lip, clearly remembering something unpleasant. “They can also put people in pods. The pods make the victims easily manageable and a reliable food source. And, I have to say, safe from physical injuries.” She shivered.

She told him an abbreviated version of what had happened in Canterlot, and what the ponies had learned.

“Fortunately, we have developed runes, and a spell, to detect them.” She retrieved a paper from her briefcase and laid it on his desk. “These will force a changeling back to its form, and stun it for a short time so you can apprehend it.” She gave him a grim smile. “That is one of the new spells we will be placing into the protective charms on Hogwarts.” She glanced at her associates and frowned. “If I can keep them on track,” she half-mumbled.

He sat back and considered what she had said. The changelings were dangerous, no doubt, but they didn’t seem to be any more dangerous than any of the other creatures in the wizarding world — such as the boggarts or doxies. In fact, they were fairly benign, considering her description of them.

It was their attack on the Atlantean capital of Canterlot — an allusion to Camelot? — that was worrying. If they could hide so well, why had they blatantly attacked? They could have infiltrated over several weeks and then taken control with ease and still maintained their cover. Instead they had attacked in a wave of soldiers, intent on simply overwhelming their enemy. It made no sense — unless their queen had gone mad.

He sighed softly. He considered what he should tell the Ministry. Based on Princess Sparkle’s account of the creatures and their abilities, he didn’t think that a single changeling was all that much of a threat. Perhaps a word with his old friend Alastor about a new menace, and the runes to catch it, were in order? And a warning to Amelia. A few words to certain people. Yes, something simple. No need to involve the Ministry, officially.

And the panic that would inevitably ensue.

Then he considered that Alastor would immediately want to establish the runes everywhere, especially at the all of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement offices and the holding cells. And he would make the spell to force a changeling to its native form a must for all the Aurors, with instructions to cast it at anyone the Aurors suspected might not be whom they said they were. Which would draw immediate attention to the ministry and himself. And then the attention would focus on Albus.

When word began to circulate that there was only one changeling, all three of them, the Ministry, Alastor, and himself would come into severe criticism. He couldn’t afford that right now. While the publicity that Rita had focused on Hogwarts was good publicity in that it wasn’t critical, he didn’t want to take a chance that this would detrimentally affect the school.

Especially as the Atlanteans would get dragged into the spotlight. And that meant Harry would get dragged in as well. Which would create friction between them.

Albus could always blame Moody’s paranoia when it came to light that he was the source of the information, but that was a weak argument. He would have to consider carefully just who he revealed this to and how.

Too bad the Death Eaters were not so simply exposed. Although the imperius defence runes from the other day were certainly a good step forward.

Well, he really should show the newcomers their new apartments. And let them get to work. At lunch he would inform everyone that they had arrived.

And give more thought to the differences between dementors and changelings. And why the Atlanteans had a portal instead of using a portkey, floo, or apparating from Equestria to England. To better hide themselves, maybe? Or were there protections against those that only left a portal as a transportation method?

۸-_-۸

Harry was pleasantly surprised when Monday, at breakfast, Oliver told him, “Quidditch practice is three times a week, after classes and before dinner. Today is the first day, then Wednesday, and then Friday. Saturday or Sunday aren’t usually practice days unless it’s the week before a match, then we practiced those days as well. The others practice as well. We have to schedule our practices around each other, and sometimes we can’t use the pitch. Got that?”

Harry nodded and said, “Yeah, I got it.”

Then Oliver left for his first class as they finished their breakfast and then headed for their first class of the week.

History of Magic, their first since the ghost, Binns, had left two weeks ago, was very interesting, Harry thought. The professor’s appearance, alone, captured their attention. The wizard, now that they were closer and in better lighting, wore an extremely shabby set of robes that had been darned in several places. He had several scars on his face and hands and looked a bit world-weary. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey.

“I know you haven’t covered this,” he said, “It’s not a Goblin Revolt.” That had garnered a laugh from the students. “In fact, in the entire time that I was a student, it was only mentioned once, in sixth year. That isn’t enough.” He paused to let that sink in. “Get your feathers ready,” he said warningly

“The single most important organization for wizards is the Wizengamot,” he began. The lecture started off with a brief summary of the political climate and then segued into the actual makeup of the Wizengamot. The Wizengamot, it seemed, usually had fifty members, mostly from old wizarding families that were “members in good standing.” Harry found it mildly amusing that, for all of Draco’s posturing, Draco Malfoy’s father was not a member of that body, while both the Potters and the Longbottoms were. The Potters’ family seat was being held in abeyance until he was of age, seventeen in the wizarding world. In fact, several families were, reducing actual membership to forty, at this time.

The process for selecting members was limited to the membership — no general elections — and they currently limited the selection only to established British families of good standing. There would be no muggle-born or half-bloods added to the seating! However, the Minister for Magic had some power over the final selection.

Aside from the Wizengamot members and the Head Warlock, there was a Court Scribe to record the in-session proceedings. The Minister for Magic, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement could attend trials and hearings, if they so chose. A British Youth Representative, limited to under seventeen years old, was also usually present. This was considered a prize position for Sixth and Seventh years, who fiercely vied for the political position each time the Wizengamot met. Those who might inherit a family seat were given priority.

Again, half-bloods and muggle-born need not apply. The only caveat to that was if none of the pure-bloods were interested, then half-bloods would be allowed to attend.

Professor Lupin then ran down the different Departments and who their current heads were, with the warning that the information would be on a test later. And the promise of a more detailed explanation in subsequent lectures.

Hermione was thrilled at the information while Harry and the fillies thought it interesting, but somewhat dull. Fortunately, the names and departments they headed were simple lists he handed out. For homework, they were to read the Daily Prophet with a view to how the news was slanted for or against any particular event or decision from the Wizengamot.

۸-_-۸

Unusually, the Headmaster was in the great Hall during lunch.

Unfortunately, Malfoy had returned.

On the other hoof, however, he was uncharacteristically quiet and kept his attention on his meal. The other students, except Crabbe and Goyle, kept their distance and ignored his presence as best as they could.

Partway through lunch, the Headmaster stood and tapped his goblet for the students’ attention. “As your House-heads mentioned, I’m sure, for the next few weeks we have five visitors.” He quickly named them, each standing briefly, “They are evaluating the enchantments present in the castle to see what they can learn. Please do not intrude upon their study. The enchantments are complex and they should not be distracted.” He smiled genially and sat back down.

While Princess Twilight wasn’t in evidence, it was clear the five were her doing. The hair colour of two of them and their overall awkwardness towards eating made that evident to Harry and the fillies. The Headmaster was captivated by their conversations.

Harry thought the new people had something to do with the strict warnings Professor McGonagall had given them yesterday.

“Dark Artefacts are forbidden in Hogwarts, as they have been for the last fifty years,” she had said yesterday evening, “and as your student guidebook clearly states.” She had paused, then said, “Any student who thinks he might have such an item is encouraged to hand it, or them, in to either a House-head or one of the Seventh Year Prefects.” She had glanced over the crowd in the Common Room.

“If the item is not a Ministry proscribed artefact, it will be returned to your parents for safekeeping. Any student with such an artefact after dinner tomorrow will be docked points and assigned a detention. The artefact will be confiscated and destroyed, and the family fined.” She had stopped and had given the gathered students a hard look. “The length of the detention and the points lost will be determined by the danger of the artefact. The more dangerous the artefact or spell cast on it, the more severe the punishment.” She had given them another hard look. “Minimums are a week with Mr. Filch and twenty-five points.”

There had been quite a few puzzled looks among the students at that announcement. And a few worried ones, as well, Harry had noticed. When it became apparent that Professor McGonagall was through, except for a few questions from the senior students, the First Years had just shrugged their shoulders and had gone to bed. After all, none of them had had any dark items.

During the quidditch practice session after classes that afternoon, Hermione and Percy, neither of whom were interested in playing the game at school, handed their Nimbus 2000s to Angelina and Alicia, the Chasers. The reserves took turns handing over their new brooms to the new chaser, Katie Bell.

Oliver stuck with his standard Cleansweep broomstick.

“I don’t need the pure speed offered by the newer broomstick. Agility is more important than raw speed for the position of Keeper,” he insisted.

Ron nodded his agreement at this bit of information.

At dinner, the Headmaster appeared tired, again. Harry suspected it was because he had spent the day in the Chamber of Secrets, exploring it thoroughly. The other professors appeared unsettled by the five new professors seated at the table.

Still, that Monday passed without a disaster was unexpected. It did generate a bit of controversy among the Gryffindors’ though, when Hermione insisted she didn’t have time for being a pony because she wanted to study a new book, instead.

They had all become quite proficient at book-walking by then. There were far fewer ejections from the books as the students had slowly become used to the magical requirements for staying inside. The upper-year students had the least difficulty, the Firsties had the most. Usually an hour at a time was the limit their magic gave them — and usually loss of concentration was at fault for the failures.

Except Hermione and Harry, naturally. Keeping Hermione out of the books was now the problem. And that problem led to another rule being posted on Tuesday morning in the Common Room:

While the desire to learn is laudable, students are no longer allowed within a Hogwarts Library book for longer than two hours. Five points deducted for each infraction.
a) Miss Granger is prohibited from remaining inside any of her own personal books for longer than two hours on penalty of her mother’s very stern lecture.
b) Miss Granger is not allowed to use the book-walking spell past lights-out. Five points deduction for each infraction.
c) Miss Granger is also no longer allowed into any Hogwarts Library book without strict supervision by a Professor, or a student two (2) years her senior — the Weasley twins are not considered appropriate supervisors.

Hermione was, of course, mortified that the new rule singled her out. Harry thought she was more upset at not being allowed to book-walk after lights-out, actually.

Hermione gave an entire rant about the new rules on book-walking while they walked downstairs to the Great Hall. She finally stopped as they sat down, and she grumpily propped up a book so she could eat while reading.

Harry noticed that Apple Bloom was depressed — well, in fact, all three fillies were — leading him to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Ah had a dream I’d never get mah Cutie Mark, again,” she dismally explained.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said.

“She woke us up, too,” added Sweetie Belle.

“We got to talking about Cutie Marks last night,” Scootaloo added.

“You didn’t help any when you told her all those bad marks she might get,” Sweetie Belle said accusingly.

Scootaloo wriggled in place a moment, “I didn’t mean nothing,” she said defensively.

“Hey, we’re all friends. Just because you don’t get or have a Cutie Mark isn’t going to stop that,” Harry said quietly.

“Yeah!” said Scootaloo excitedly. “We’re herd-mates, there’s no way we’d forget each other!”

Harry threw his arm over her shoulders and hugged her. Sweetie Belle on her other side did the same.

“Besides,” Harry added, “I’ll never get a Cutie Mark. Wizards never do, right Ginny?”

Ginny nodded, her mouth full of food. She swallowed quickly. “My parents never mentioned it. And they’d know, I’m sure,” she said, nodding.

The fillies stared back her. “What about them tattoos Ah heard about?” Apple Bloom asked.

Ginny shrugged as Hermione nodded absentmindedly.

“Entertainment? I don’t really know. Although, I did hear Bill say some of the curse-breakers wore tattoos as protection.”

“Besides,” said Scootaloo, “we still got that list of Cutie Mark possibilities.” She nodded firmly.

Apple Bloom just stared at her for a moment. Then she grinned. “Yeah, it’s about time we started on those. Let’s see the list.”

Sweetie Belle grinned back at her and fished a paper out of her rucksack while the others quickly loaded their plates with food.

Harry sighed and resumed eating.

۸-_-۸

The Gryffindor Firsties stared down the corridor, disappointed. They were blocked off from the room with Fluffy by an invisible barrier that kept them several yards from the door. Harry did not point out the broom-closet he had been hiding in behind them.

“Good thing that barrier wasn’t there last time or Filch would have caught us for sure!” said Sweetie Belle. Those who had been there that night nodded their agreement while the other Gryffindors just sighed. They were unsure of whether the barrier kept them safe or it kept them from seeing something as cool and neat as a Cerberus. Not surprisingly, the lines for that broke along gender, with disappointed wizards and relieved witches.

“Well, now what?” asked Apple Boom.

“I guess that’s a bust,” said Dean, let down at not seeing Fluffy.

“We should leave before Mr. Filch or his cat sees us and gets us into trouble,” said Faye.

Scootaloo was staring, with an odd look on her face, at a nearby painting of a wizard in a drawing room, all dressed in black. The wizard was staring back with an aloof expression of disappointment.

Harry was watching her carefully. He knew that look she had. Even without flexible ears and swishing tail, it meant trouble.

Suddenly, she giggled, pointed her wand at the painting, and invoked Hayscartes Method.

“Hay!” came her voice from the painting, with her standing beside the wizard who was staring at her in disbelief. “It worked!”

It took only moments before they were all in the painting.

“Wow,” said Sweetie Belle, looking around the wizard’s sitting room. The rest spread out looking at the furnishing and walls around them. They could feel the paint strokes on the walls and furniture around them. And while the images were two-dimensional, they felt three dimensional. And that meant they could sit on the couch, even though it looked like a cardboard cut-out angled in the background. Several were bouncing and giggling on the couch.

“I say, what do you think you are doing?” asked the outraged wizard, now pressed over to one side of the room, as the fourteen children were now crowded into his formerly empty room. “You aren’t supposed to be in here! Only paintings are allowed to roam the paintings!”

“Nonsense,” said Hermione righteously, turning to face him. “There are no rules that say a student cannot enter a painting!”

“But no student has ever done so!” declared the wizard.

Scootaloo smirked. “Well, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The wizard stared at her, perplexed and angry.

“Oh look, the next painting!” came the cry from Sweetie Belle as she darted through the open door hidden by the picture’s frame.

“Let’s see,” “Oh, yeah,” and “There’s another here,” came from several people as they spread out in both directions.

“Stop that this instant,” bellowed the wizard, “Come back here!” He pulled his wand, but, of course, could do nothing as he had no magical core. He frowned heavily as the group quickly spread to other paintings. “I shall have to go get the Headmaster, if you don’t all behave!”

“Hey, Harry,” called Apple Bloom, “Look at this meadow.”

“Wow, this painting goes to the next floor! No more waiting for the stairs to move!”

“I wonder if we can go straight to the dorms?”

“Petrificus totalus,” came from another direction and the wizard slowly toppled over.

“Sorry, sir,” said Ginny, “but this is just too perfect for sneaking around without anyone noticing.” She dragged him to a couch. “If you promise not to tell on us, I’ll let you go.” She placed him as best she could on the couch, then cast finite incantatem. He settled back on the couch, as if sitting, and stared at her in indignation. She kept her wand on him.

“I must tell the Headmaster you have been here! It’s my job, and I cannot lie to the Headmaster,” he stated, staring at her wand. “If he asks has anyone been in the corridor I am obligated to reply with the truth!”

She frowned back at him as Harry listened to the conversation. Did all the paintings report to the Headmaster? It gave him an unparalleled system for watching out for mischievous students! And he had to know the truth if there were any disputes in front of a painting. Harry had to wonder if the other students realized they were always being spied upon.

۸-~-۸

Author's Note

Thanks to Jonny Bench for suggesting Hayscartes on paintings. And Odeinoichus for Rule Number 6.

79 — Dog Days

Finally, Ginny shrugged. “Then tell the Headmaster the truth! We were here, all of us, and we saw that the corridor was blocked. Then we left. You don’t have to tell him that we came into the paintings.”

He stared back at her mutinously.

“If you must, tell him students were in your painting. Just don’t tell him they were the Gryffindors. I know there are paintings with students in them.” She paused, then grinned. “It would be a great prank wouldn’t it?”

“Filch is coming! Everyone hide!” came a distant cry.

She petrified the wizard again, and then hid behind the couch, as did Harry and Hermione.

They watched the empty corridor for several minutes before the man appeared following his cat.

“Are you sure they were here, my love?” he asked as he suspiciously looked around.

“Merow!” came the instant response, and the cat darted back and forth, clearly sniffing out where the Firsties had been standing. Then she stopped and just stared at the lone painting on the wall — right at where Ginny and Harry were hiding and peering under the couch.

Then Filch sneered and said, “Well, clearly, they’ve moved on. We’ll catch them next time.” He turned and walked off. The cat continued to stare at the painting until the old squib walked back and picked her up. He held her as he scrutinized the painting for a moment. The wizard inside said nothing, being petrified. Argus eyed the silent wizard, and sneered, “I don’t suppose you’d tell me if anyone’s been here, would you.” The wizard, naturally, remained silent and did not even acknowledge the man. “It would disappoint the Headmaster if you did, I bet. Telling a mere squib anything about his precious students,” the man sneered. “He lets them get away with everything!” he said bitterly, shaking his head. He turned and walked away, muttering to his faithful cat.

Hermione left the painting, darting to the next and following in his wake.

Not long after he left, Hermione came back and said, “He used a secret passage to head to another floor.” She stared at the two still hiding, and the painted wizard still frozen, sitting. She frowned a moment, then sat beside him and smiled. She cast a finite, and then asked, before the wizard could move, “What’s it like being a painting?”

Taken aback at her simple question, the wizard stared at her, nonplussed.

“I mean,” she said officiously, like she had back at the Weasleys when they first met. “What is it like? What happens when you go to sleep? Do you dream? You aren’t stuck here, are you? You can leave, just like we did, right? What was Hogwarts like when you went here? Are any of your friends here? What were you doing when you were first painted?”

Harry sighed and looked at Ginny. She shrugged and the two of them began to explore. The meadow that Apple Bloom had found was a simple landscape, but it was looked more like a stage that had an almost infinite backdrop. The grass and trees were like painted cut-outs at various depths from the ‘stage’ front. As they went deeper, they became smaller, to match the size of their surroundings — the painting’s front was only a few paces wide, but in the back it must have been miles.

It was really weird, Harry thought, to have a giant window as one wall, looking out into the castle.

They quickly caught up with the Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom, who had waited for Harry after their first excited scramble through the nearby paintings. The other students slowly re-grouped around them.

“We should tell everyone about this,” Faye said enthusiastically, “It’s a great way to get to classes — without having to wait for the stairs!”

“No!” declared Dean, “We should keep it a secret. We can spy on the other dorms! I’ve already peeked into Slytherin and Hufflepuff — their Common rooms are very different from ours!”

“Really?”

“I wanna see”

“Let’s go look!” came the rapid-fire replies, with several students already heading for the next portrait over.

“Wait,” called Harry, “Won’t everyone rushing into the Slytherin Common Room painting to see give us away? I mean, the other people in the paintings will tell on us, even if the students in the Common rooms don’t notice.”

That stopped the rush.

“The ones who saw me all assumed I was another painting gone wandering. There are a few children and students in some of the paintings, after all. There’s even a crowd watching a Quidditch match on the ground floor,” Seamus said. “There are several hundred paintings, you know.”

“Watch for me, I want to try something,” Harry said as he looked around the meadow. He then released the spell. He was back in the hall. He stared at the picture. He had walked less than a dozen steps to get to the meadow, but he was in another corridor in the castle entirely. He shook his head in wonder at seeing all the Firsties in the meadow painting looking at him. They all looked like they had been painted into the painting.

He stepped to the side against the wall where he couldn’t be seen from the painting, and recast the spell.

“What painting did you go to?” asked Scootaloo, “We saw you step to the side, and then you came through the opening there.” She pointed at the edge where the canvas was behind the frame. He looked and it did look like an opening hovering in the meadow, like an invisible door only someone in a painting could see.

He smiled, happy. “As long as you stand against the wall beside the painting, you can’t be seen because of the frame. It looks like you came from another painting when you cast Hayscartes.” He looked at others. “Okay, let’s keep this a secret for now.” He glanced at Parvati. “I’m sure you’ll want to tell Padma, and she’ll tell her friends, so it won’t be a secret for long.”

The Indian girl blushed, but nodded.

“Still, it’ll be fun in the meantime,” he finished. “We’ll tell the other paintings that we’re a new one. That should satisfy their curiosity. And, who knows, maybe we will be a painting, someday.”

With that settled, they scattered once more, giggling.

Peering into the Slytherin Common Room was the height of their afternoon. They were all careful, of course, hiding behind the furnishings as they watched the students study and talk. Really, it was quite boring and none of them would have been interested if the Slytherins hadn’t made such a big deal out of keeping others from their dorm. Fortunately, the painting they used was a landscape of the grounds by the lake.

Exploring the castle via paintings was different, and took the Gryffindors most of the afternoon, to the perplexity of their Prefects. Having the entire First Year group missing for hours made the Prefects, and the professors, extremely nervous.

Their relief when the Gryffindor Firsties finally appeared, unharmed, was almost tangible. That the First Years were giggling and claimed to never have left the castle restored that worry in full. What had the Gryffindors been up to, they wondered? How many rules had they broken? And how many new rules would be required to fix things?

۸- ̫ -۸

The First Years spent the afternoon Thursday brewing last week’s potion as a make-up assignment from Professor Snape. Fortunately, neither Sweetie Belle nor Neville had exploded their cauldrons.

Afterwards, they had relaxed with a birthday party for Hermione, which the twins had turned into a full party for the entire dorm after the presents were opened. Naturally, with homework settled, or postponed to Friday afternoon — otherwise called Sunday evening — the animagi spent their time being fussed over until curfew.

Except Hermione, She wanted to book-walk her new books. There was a bit of a tussle about that. They ended up compromising.

Harry had to wonder about the Common Room. It seemed bigger than it had been before the new witches began to show up. Did it make itself bigger based on the number of people in it? It made sense to do that. And there were now comfortable pillows for the ponies scattered about, too. Although Harry had seen more than one older witch creating a pillow to lounge on.

۸-_-۸

7) Students are not allowed to spend more than 5 minutes hugging/petting/grooming an animagus student in their animagus form if other students are waiting.
a) Students are not allowed to force, or guilt, an animagus student to remain in their form if they do not wish to do so.
b) All animagi students must complete their homework for the day before they can partake in any ‘petting’ or ‘grooming’ session.

For once, the new rule on the board by the Common Room entrance Friday morning had nothing to do with the previous days’ activities by the Cutie Mark Crusaders or their friends! Or rather, at least, it wasn’t exactly their doing. Which, frankly, hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. The professors had finally started to figure out how much book-walking had helped their students, and increased the workload as a result! Their assignments were twice as long, and expected to be twice as thorough.

The new rule was actually a bit of a relief. The Gryffindor Common Room had become the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff Common Room, lately. Well, at least for the witches. And the Ravenclaws were certainly starting to show up in large numbers, too. All of them insisting on petting and grooming the “cute and adorable” ponies.

The younger wizards had begun sighing at the large number of “icky” and “bossy” witches in the room, but the older wizards were intrigued by the new witches’ presence. That hadn’t stopped the Monopoly tournament, which now included some witches waiting their turn with a pony. Nor the hexing tournament. Nor the other tournament that had been started — something to do with conjuring and lifting heavy weights, Harry thought.

Unfortunately, it was Friday. That meant the Gryffindor First Years had Double Potions after breakfast, with Sweetie Belle.

Today, though, the Potions class was different, Harry saw. The Slytherins had arrived first, rushing a bit through breakfast, and had taken all the tables closest to the door. The Gryffindors quickly followed their example, leaving almost the entire side of the room farthest from the door completely empty except for Sweetie Belle and Neville’s table at the edge of the group, right beside Harry’s and the other fillies’ tables.

To everyone’s relief, Professor Snape actually seemed to approve of the new arrangement. Well, at least he hadn’t reordered the seating arrangements, except to put a row of empty tables between the two factions.

“Because of the accidental potions we’ve experienced in the last two classes,” he had swept his glance across them all, but lingered on Sweetie Belle. “I shall teach you a rather simple charm. One that will prevent any unanticipated side-effects from inhaling an incorrectly and suspiciously brewed potion.” He stared at the blushing Sweetie Belle.

“It is called the bubble-head charm,” he sneered at the class, “for obvious reasons.”

The Slytherins seemed to master it rather quickly, even Crabbe and Goyle, to Harry’s surprise. They were always the last ones to succeed at any spell, whether it be in Charms with Professor Flitwick or Transfigurations with Professor McGonagall. For those two Slytherins to get it so soon was suspicious.

Which gave Harry the feeling that the Slytherins had been told about the charm previously. And in plenty of time to practice it. Probably days ago.

Which meant Harry and the other Gryffindors had to endure the continuous complaints and derisive remarks coming from the potions’ master. Snape felt, as he said, “deeply offended that I must waste my valuable time teaching you dunderheaded Gryffindors such a simple spell.” And he let them know this, at length, to the amusement of the Slytherins.

He had used dung-bombs as an incentive for the students to get it right as quickly as possible. And while he cleared the room afterwards of any nasty smells, from the lingering obnoxious scent Harry got the feeling he didn’t clean the Gryffindor side as diligently as the Slytherin side.

Naturally, of course, almost every Gryffindor lost points for not learning it fast enough.

Then he set them to making Essence of Dittany. It was a simple enough potion, except when Neville made it, they discovered.

Harry kept a watchful eye on Sweetie Belle’s cauldron, but this time she wasn’t the one at fault. She managed to grind the leaves and stalk quite easily, she added the water at the right temperature, she was stirring it in the right direction, and at the right speed. It was thickening properly and even appeared close to the correct colour.

Abruptly, Neville squeaked. There was a sudden swoooosh! sound.

Harry looked over at Neville’s cauldron, and caught it in the middle of melting.

Which was all he managed to see, as at the same time Sweetie Belle jumped sideways against him to escape the melting cauldron beside her. She knocked his arm against his cauldron causing it to fall to the floor with a loud clang. Her collision with Harry made her drop her wand in mid-recast of the bubble-head charm. How her wand managed to land in Neville’s semi-melted cauldron would remain a mystery, because she certainly did not mean to throw it there.

By now, half of the Slytherins had managed to make it out the door, with more than a couple of Gryffindors on their heels. The rest of the students were hurriedly, and in some cases, desperately, recasting the bubble-head charm, with mixed success.

Neville’s cauldron had its open side tilted sideways towards the door to the classroom. It suddenly shot out a mist like a cannon shot a ball, and engulfed the fleeing students. Harry could see that some of the students had successfully cast the bubble-head charm, as the mist didn’t touch their heads. Unfortunately, that didn’t save them.

The mist billowed out into the hall. It easily caught the students who had fled the initial outcry. They had slowed down, thinking they were safely out of range. A mistake, as they learned.

Neville retreated to the opposite wall as Professor Snape, watched, stunned at the rapid change in his classroom. “You dunderheaded idiots!” he cried, stalking towards the melted cauldron, already flicking his wand and vanishing all three cauldrons, their contents, and any residue on the floor or tables.

But the damage had been done. Except for the professor and Neville, they were the only two not in the path of the explosion, everyone was a bright purple. And bald. Even those who had cast the bubble-head charm correctly and had managed to escape to the corridor outside the room.

The witches immediately started crying as they touched their hairless heads and they stared at their friends in horror. And then at their own robes. The wizards were no less surprised, even though they were not crying.

The bubble-head charm had worked like a, well, charm. It had prevented those in range of the mist from breathing it. Regrettably, for the students, it was a contact-mist. It had changed all of whatever it touched to the colour purple. The floor, walls, ceiling, tables, chairs . . . everything was purple. And it started in a v-shaped cone from Neville’s cauldron on his desk. With the exit to the room in the middle of the spread.

Fleeing as the students had, clumped around the door, had merely put them in the path of the mist as it exploded into the room and hall.

The only way you could tell the two Houses apart was that their badges and robes’ trim were two different colours — red and silver. The badges and trim, apparently, had been unaffected by the mist. Probably, Harry thought later, due to their original magical basis.

The new colours made people difficult to tell apart, at first. It was amazing to realize how much you relied on someone’s hair colour and shape to tell you who the person was, Harry discovered.

Madam Pomfrey was no more amused than Professor Snape when the twenty-four students presented themselves to her. Snape was much more vocal about it, however, as the point loses for Gryffindor mounted.

Fortunately, the hair-growing tonic the nurse had was sufficient to restore the witches lost locks — to a degree. The boys had to do without as there wasn’t nearly enough to treat the witches and the wizards. The wizards, naturally, thought it was wickedly funny to be bald.

Harry’s quick change to a pony was changed back even quicker. Suffice to say, as they had discovered previously, a bald pony was not nearly as cute and adorable as a coated pony was, even if he was purple.

Their colour, however, was not so easily remedied.

Again, it was decided to wait for a few days before calling on St. Mungos for assistance.

Friday was the first time since school had started that the weekend began pony-less in the Gryffindor Common Room, to the disappointment of the witches, and a few wizards. The tournaments continued, however, in a less crowded Common Room.

And the twins were disconsolate at, once again, being shown-up.

۸- ̰ -۸

Elly was getting desperate. It had taken her only a night to fly to London. But finding the way to the Leaky Cauldron? Sadly, knowing an address but not having a map was a bit of a problem. She had spent days wandering around trying to find a magical human.

The city dwarfed Canterlot and every other city she had ever heard of.

It was one thing to hear a human or pony say a city had a population of six million — as many as were in all of Equestria — but another to actually see and experience it! Flying at night over the streets that streamed with self-propelled carts of people was simply astounding. And that the traffic continued far into the night, long after most ponies would be in bed, was equally amazing.

Only Manehattan had come close to the density found here, but here it just went on and on for thousands and thousands of celestials. And up. Far higher than the ponies had ever built. Higher than most of the mountains she had seen. Tartarus, there must have been at least several dozen buildings that were taller than the tallest building in all of Equestria!

And the humans were so big, too! Her normal size was similar to a pony, but here a pony’s head barely reached their hips! On the other hoof, that made it easier to hide in plain sight as a dog or a sign post. Something small, and not very noticeable, that normally would have been big and very noticeable. A double-edged advantage, to be sure. She wouldn’t be taking any of them on in a fight!

Dogs were common, which made it easier for her to move through the suburbs during the day. Although the first time she had been seen by a human, he had been surprised at the colours on her coat.

That the humans actually searched for stray dogs had been a surprise. A surprise she had easily escaped. They hadn’t been prepared for a dog that could transform into a garbage can as soon as she was out of their direct sight.

However, after a few hours of observation, she had realized that the coat colours for all the animals was rather simple — primarily dirt tones. She had adapted her colours to match.

But it had curtailed her exploring during the day. Giving her plenty of time to actually observe the humans as they moved about and to listen to their conversations.

Which led to her current predicament. Where was she in London? And where was The Leaky Cauldron?

“Excuse me?” she said politely, stepping in front of the businesswoman hurrying down the street.

The woman stopped and stared at her, surprised at being accosted. She saw a woman as well-dressed as herself.

“Could you tell in which direction I might find Charing Cross Road?”

The woman had frowned. “It’s on the tube,” she said, “just look at the map.” Then she had hurried off.

That didn’t help. At all. She sighed.

The non-magical humans barely provided her with sustenance. Unlike the pony-love on other side, the love here was much more difficult to detect. More difficult than the humans had provided on the other side of the portal. Hiding as a rock in a play park for two days hadn’t been as fruitful as being a rock in Ponyville for only half a day. And that was despite the fact that there were more little ones and their parents running around, here! So, overall, she had garnered a set amount of love in quadruple the time it normally took. A hive would have to work very hard to acquire what it needed to survive.

On the other hoof, the humans were completely unsuspecting.

So there was that in her favour.

Still, she hoped that the magicals were more . . . generous with their love. If not, then she would just make do. At least here she didn’t have ponies looking for her at every turn. Or to worry about that ling-revealing spell.

She waited for sundown, and, again, accosted a human. This time it was a man — and they were by an alley. She came at him from behind, a quick two steps to catch up and grasp his opposite shoulder. She leaned close, smiling as if she knew the man, and hurriedly bit him. While he was still surprised at her actions, she dragged him into the alley for the venom to work.

A few minutes later, he hailed a cab for her and left her the paper contents of his wallet. He strolled away with a vague idea of having helped a woman in distress. And feeling very happy with himself — even if he couldn’t remember exactly why. Or what he had been doing before he had “helped” the woman. It would take a good half-hour before he remembered what he had been doing and hurried off. And she would be long gone by then.

After having paid the cabbie, she headed for the nearest alley. Once hidden from prying eyes, she turned into a yellow signpost — one of many she had seen all over the city. She slowly made her way to the street again. It being night helped considerably. She watched and waited through the night and the next day.

It was odd, but watching the people as they walked by gave the impression that they couldn’t see the dingy little pub just across the street. They would be looking at the bookstore, then they would look to the record store on the other side, not even noticing the pub sitting right in-between. That must be the magicals’ muggle-repelling spell that the instructor had mentioned. It was so odd to see it in action.

There were very few customers for that pub, she noticed. Barely one or two the entire time she watched. She knew there were more people in it than that, she could see them moving inside the pub through the windows. Late the next night, she edged back to the alley and transformed again. She crossed the street to stand outside the door for several minutes. Eventually, she steeled herself, figuratively speaking, and walked inside.

The inside was no more attractive than the outside, and she immediately felt out of place in her appearance as a “normal” human. She resisted the instinctive urge to modify herself to fit in with the small crowd.

It was very dark and fittings and furniture were very scruffy. The man behind the bar, and handing a drink to a woman, had brown hair and a rather pasty complexion, like he rarely was out in the sun. The bartender looked up and frowned at her. The clothes she wore, a business suit, were way out of place considering the clientele she could see around her.

She smiled uncertainly at the man, and barely avoided bolting back out the door. She made her way to the bar.

“Wat’ll it be, lady,” he said, leering at her, one arm on the bar.

His emotions were stronger than the others outside. She could easily pick up his irritation and desire to see her out the door. It was quite different from what she would expect a servant to project at seeing a customer.

For a moment she was perplexed, then she realized he must think she was a muggle — a squib? — and wanted her to leave as fast as possible. She smiled at him in what she hoped was a charming manner. “Hello, I’m visiting here. Could you show me the way to Diagon Alley?”

He leaned back, surprised and startled. Most magical travellers came from the ministry through the floo.

The woman just down the bar gave her a long evaluating look. Elly could easily pick up her interest. It was a simple interest. No one was suspicious that she did not have a wand.

The barman frowned, then sighed and gruffly said, “This way.”

He walked to one side and then through a door at the back of the bar. It opened onto a shabby walled courtyard. For a brief moment she prepared herself for battle. He didn’t notice her change of expression or stance, fortunately.

He took a stick, his wand, and tapped a brick three times. “It’s three up and two across,” he said. She felt the small flare of magic at each touch as he did so.

“That’s the sequence, really simple,” he said. He smiled toothlessly at her, “I’m Tom, by the way. If you need a room, we rent by the hour, day, week, and month.”

She smiled and murmured a quick “Thank you.”

He nodded and turned without another word to go back to his bar.

۸- ̬ -۸

Author's Note

Blame Senko for Rule 7.

80 — Memories

Albus looked across the room at the gathered professors. “It has been a rather quiet week, hasn’t it?” he asked rhetorically.

Minerva frowned as several other professors smiled.

“How are things in general?” he asked.

The professors exchanged looks before Filius started speaking. “The students, all Years, have picked up their pace. The assignments are coming back more detailed and, in many cases, over the assigned length. Even the practicals are going better than normal.” He shook his head ruefully, “That book-walking spell has really improved both comprehension and retention rates.” He sighed. “In my House, I’ve seen the students whip through a reading assignment at an amazing rate, reducing their time by a third or more without losing any details. And with better understanding comes better performance.” He stopped and took a breath. “If the classes continue as they have, the students will have finished the normal year’s coursework sometime in May, maybe April. Even the OWL and NEWT students.” He looked at the Headmaster, smiling. “I think the Ministry will be very surprised at the results from this year’s tests.”

The gathered professors laughed at that thought.

“However, that does mean we need to start thinking now about extra coursework for the late Spring. Although, we could consider a longer hols for the summer. Ending the school year in May would be a nice surprise.”

Dumbledore could just imagine the uproar from the Wizengamot! After a moment’s contemplation, he said “Yes, we should look at all of our options — having students finish the coursework early is most unusual.”

He turned to his Potions Professor, “Another week, another exciting class, correct Severus?”

The Potions Master glared at him as the other professors held back their laughter. Even Quirinus had a look of amusement in his eyes. He had been very dour ever since Albus and the other three professors had dealt with the basilisk.

It was a pleasant change to see him smile, even if it hadn’t lasted very long.

Severus said. “It was Mr. Longbottom’s ineptitude that precipitated the latest mishap.” He scowled at the memory. “I wasted precious class-time today teaching the dunderheads how to cast the bubble-head charm to prevent another calamity like the last two. Only, somehow, Mr. Longbottom created a contact-mist out of a simple dittany cream!” He shook his head.

“Everything it touched it turned purple! And removed the hair from every inch of the students’ bodies.” He waved his hand angrily. “Everything it touched in the room and corridor is purple. Even the glass and crystal potion bottles. I haven’t been able to change them back, yet.”

He sat back in his chair, scowling. “We’re lucky it didn’t turn the whole castle purple!”

Poppy spoke up, “The girls responded well to hair cream, however, and their hair grew-in in the correct colours. I’m hoping the purple colouring on their skin is also transitory, even though it refused to respond to magical treatments.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “It seems to have spread across their entire skin, as even the ones who had correctly cast the bubble-head charm still had their facial skin turn purple and their hair disappear. Nonetheless, it didn’t change the colour of their tongues or the insides of their noses and ears! Or their eyes.” She frowned. “Their nails did turn purple, though.” She sighed. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“In the meantime, my Slytherin First Years are all going to be purple!” declared Severus angrily.

“And,” said Minerva, “in spite of being a bright purple, my First Years have been disappearing for hours on end. No one seems to know where they have gone, only that they aren’t where everyone expects them to be. Even the House-elves seem to lose track of them.” She frowned, “When I asked the students where they were, they all said they were exploring the castle, or book-walking.” She glanced at the Headmaster. “I knew about the book-walking. That usually takes place in the Library or the Dorms.”

Albus chuckled. The portraits had told him all about the “purple” students sneaking through the backgrounds when they thought no one was watching. “I’m sure we’ll find that they have been merely watching our visitors while remaining hidden. We did, after all, ask them not to disturb our guests.”

He schooled his expression into one of seriousness. “And on that note, I must say that our guests have nearly completed their inspections of the castle spells. They are thrilled at what they found, and their improvements have been quite interesting to see. They have spent hours talking with the ghosts and the portraits about the castle, and asking their advice in protecting the castle from enemies. And how the castle has been fought over in previous wars.”

Some of their questions were quite enlightening, Albus thought. Especially those of the brilliant Sunburst — who he thought also had quite good taste in robes, too. That particular Equestrian tended to remind him of himself. It was unfortunate, and sad, that his spell casting wasn’t as brilliant as his understanding of magic.

Albus had been especially interested in how they had been so appalled at the thought of people deliberately killing other people. When he had inquired on the subject of changelings, the conversations had quickly devolved to depression among the Equestrians at the loss of life. Several of their friends, they had told him, were still in therapy.

He shook his head and returned to the topic at hand.

“They are actually gushing over what they have learned and how the enchantments interacted. I heard them saying that many of the enchantments would be wonderful additions to their own school. They seemed especially taken with the charms on the Great Hall and the animated armours.”

He sighed. “They did correct some of the charms on the castle. Over the centuries, many things have been deliberately hidden from castle scans. For example, the basilisk’s pipes and tunnels in the walls are now covered in magical scans, as is every hidden passage in the castle.” He chuckled. “There were even a few that I had not known about!” He sighed and stroked his beard. “They added a map to a wall in my office, tied to the castle charms. It has markers for all the portraits, statues, artwork, hidden tunnels and passages, students, professors, and others — even animagi! Ask and any section of Hogwarts can be brought into close detail. Even the Room of Requirement, if it is in use.”

He gave Minerva a sly glance. “And a glance is all that is required to find any student in a broom-closet or where he, or she, shouldn’t be! The information on the closets can be tagged and recalled, if need be, for a period of up to a month.”

“They have also added protective runes to the castle, reinforcing the walls, both interior and exterior. As were detection and revealing runes especially for Changelings.” As expected, the professors all sat up in surprise at that term, many repeating “Changeling!” in tones of alarm.

He waved his hand casually. “No, not the fae, I have been assured. It is, however, a creature that can take on the semblance of another.”

They sat back in their chairs, more than a bit relieved. He paused, thinking how he should explain. “It is somewhat like a metamorphmagus. You should remember Nymphadora Tonks, correct?” He sighed at their hesitant nods.

“However, unlike Miss Tonks, a changeling can imitate any creature it sees, instantly. It is an intelligent creature,” he assured them. “If you were to run into one you would never suspect it wasn’t the person you thought it was portraying, unless it made a mistake in actions or speech.” He nodded at their shocked expressions, and disbelieving one from Severus.

“The interesting thing about changelings is that they are emotivores, the reason for their ability to imitate others.” He shook his head. “They live on love.”

His audience stared at him, none quite believing the story he was telling.

“Princess Sparkle assures me that this is all true. The changelings imitate others to harvest the love others have for the person they are imitating.”

They spent another ten-minutes discussing the changelings before moving on to other business.

۸- ̫ -۸

Top Marks stood just inside the test lab. “Excellent work, Bright Star!” he said to the mare beside him. “Sergeant Rapid Dash was correct to send you to us.” He looked at her carefully, “Not only have you done an exemplary job of keeping the area prepared, you’re excellent at magic, too.”

Bright Star smiled back at him. “Thank you, professor. I never had a chance to attend Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, so you taking so much of your time to teach me what I’ve missed is wonderful!”

“Think nothing of it, my dear,” the yellowish-grey maned stallion said. “Your help on some of the experiments has been more than enough compensation. You’ve been reading those books from the wizards, correct?”

“Yes, sir. They are quite different in their theories for magic than I ever considered.”

“Yes, that is certainly true. They’ve surprised us all. Their use of wands will revolutionize our world! And you’ve helped bring magic to two-thirds of Equestria, today — no longer will only unicorns wield magic.” He stared at the wand on the table and shook his head. “No pony ever thought of using a focus instead of an actual unicorn horn. And it works!”

He returned to looking at her. “And no one here thought to combine a phasing spell and a cutting spell into one spell to embed an item inside another perfectly. Your contribution to wand engineering is to be commended. It reduces construction time and uses less effort overall, for a better result in the end! It looks and feels as if the hair belongs inside the wand. You can feel the magic in it!” he said with eagerness. “I believe even Mr. Ollivander will be pleased with this result!”

Bright Star looked at the floor bashfully.

He smiled at her broadly, “It’s that kind of thinking that moves magical-science forward. I’ll make sure the others know of your breakthrough.” He stared at her a moment longer, then smirked. “I think I’ll have to tell Apple Polish we need a new Assistant Worker in view of your promotion to Lab Technician.”

She gasped and stared at him in shock.

“Because most of the others have taken off to examine Hogwarts,” he frowned briefly at not having been selected for that privilege, “I think that means you’ll have to start out on my team — with testing how a wand’s length and type of wood affects spell casting! And what the optimal ratios are between core size and wood length.”

She continued to stare at him.

He grinned. “Well, we should get started, shouldn’t we?”

She slowly nodded.

“And we’ll have to show this wand to Mr. Ollivander and get his feedback on it, won’t we?”

Eyes wide, she nodded again.

“Well, I’ll let you prepare the testing regimen while I notify the guard of our trip to Diagon Alley for them to schedule it. We’ll take Flash Sentry and Night Sentry with us . . . I think we’ll get them wands, too.”

Stunned, she watched the blue-coated unicorn head out of the room and down the hall.

Then she took a deep breath and stared at the wand, a smile slowly growing as she considered the implications of all ponies wielding magic — and what that would do to cutie marks.

۸- ̬ -۸

Elly looked into the Alley. Unlike the odd moving pictures in her book the shops were all closed. Or, at least, most of them were closed. Naturally. It was night.

From the lights above the darkened shops, the Potages Cauldron shop, Eeylops Owl Emporium, Quality Quidditch Supplies, and others, she assumed they either lived above their shops or rented rooms. And some of the second floor rooms were obviously businesses, as they had signs in or beside their windows.

The Apothecary was open, as were Twilfitt and Tatting’s, Gambol and Japes, and Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment. She slowly walked down the Alley taking in everything carefully — sights, sounds, and smells. She stayed in the shadows as much as possible, without making it look like she was deliberately doing so.

Finally, in one shadowed corner, she transformed into a fake wall of bricks. She mimicked the brick wall behind her and blended in perfectly. Only the original brick mason would ever notice the difference. It would take several days before she was comfortable enough to try to imitate a wizard or witch.

She settled carefully and watched the denizens and stores that made up the Alley, especially a snowy-white building that towered over the other little shops.

Gringotts held her attention for many reasons, most of them in her bag hidden behind her.

Already things were looking up. She could taste the emotions of those around her much easier, now. She felt a tension she hadn’t previously realized being there ease itself. She wouldn’t starve in this new world.

Now she had to figure out how to thrive, as she could never have done on the other side of the portal — the ponies would have made sure of that.

۸- ̫ -۸

Dumbledore did not look forward to the interview later that morning with Rita Skeeter. He had, rather rashly he now thought, given in to her demands for an interview with Harry Potter. Demands disguised as requests, with the hint of much bad press for himself and the school if he refused. He had insisted that either Minerva or himself be present, using the excuse that no child could meet with a non-school adult, alone.

He had mentioned to the Princess that he had promised the reporter an interview, and that he had thought it might be good press for the boy, and his friends, at Hogwarts.

She had, at first, been surprised at his request to interview the wizard. Then she explained to the Headmaster, after a period of contemplation, “While I, and the Princesses, consider him a citizen of our homeland . . . ,”

“Equestria,” Albus had said, interrupting. Princess Sparkle had given him a long look. Then nodded.

“. . . Equestria, the wizards and witches do view him as a saviour. In that situation, it would only be natural that the public would be interested in his life, and his future,” she had finished.

She had also said, “I don’t like the publicity, overall, being focused on a child. However, he is quickly growing up and will need to learn how to handle himself. As also do his friends.” She had smiled and said, “They are almost adults, after all.”

He had wondered at that last statement. “Oh? At what age is one considered an adult?”

She had looked at him a moment, then shrugged. “I know that here you say a child becomes an adult at age seventeen, but we pass the mantle of adulthood at age fifteen.” She smirked at him. “Odd that a child can choose to consider their schooling, here, complete at age fifteen, after they pass their OWLs.” She smiled at his raised eyebrows. “Usually, by that time in my homeland, they are more than prepared to live on their own. Many have families and jobs by then, anyway, and see no need to educate themselves further.”

He had nodded in understanding. Just last century the idea of schooling beyond the OWLs was considered only for the talented few. Hence the law that a wizard or witch must pass their OWLs to continue to have a wand. It had been only in this century that the NEWTs had become standard for a large number of students, and required for Ministry jobs.

“For the few who want more, there are schools, scholarships, apprenticeships, and other avenues to continue their education.” She had finished.

Yes, he could see that.

What he had not foreseen, though, was Miss Bonbon and Miss Heartstrings in his office. And their “request” to be present during said interview.

They sat quietly on the couch in his office and watched the old wizard as he thought.

Princess Sparkle had said that if there were any issues with Harry and the three witches, and she was unavailable, that someone else would be her contact person. He just hadn’t expected said person — two of them, actually — to want to be on site at the school.

On the other hand, the experiences over the past week with the Atlantean professors examining the castle’s spells had been very enlightening. Their universal lack of familiarity with wands had interesting implications to their approach to magic. They were very impressed with how the spells cast by wand were so adaptable to any wand user, while at the same time showing a power and intuitive understanding of their own magic that left the Hogwarts’ professors amazed.

They were powerful, but not very imaginative, it seemed.

Where a wand user had to consciously think about what they wanted, frequently the Atlanteans didn’t even realize they were using their magic to do something until someone pointed it out. And then their reaction to the revelation was along the lines of, “well, what would you expect? Of course that was going to happen when I was doing . . . ,” . . . whatever it was the witch or wizard was doing. They certainly had down the ability to do multiple things at the same time with their magic. An ability wand users lacked.

He saw, quite clearly, that while the Atlanteans were very powerful, they seemed to have far fewer spells readily at hand. Conjuration, a relatively simple branch of magic, was almost totally unknown to them, and rarely used. In fact, many books in the Wizarding world seemed to contain things the Atlanteans did not know.

He had even seen Miss High Range and Miss Booster dragging Mr. Sunburst out of the library on more than one occasion. Not pulling along reluctantly, but actually dragging him by his legs as he wailed that he hadn’t finished reading a particular book, his hands pulling at the floor . . . . To which they responded that he had his job to do, he could read the book later, and to quit acting like a foal!

He certainly knew that feeling himself. Of being so involved in learning that life itself was an intrusion that had to be tolerated. But he never would have resisted to the point of being comically pulled from the library.

Dignified did not appear to be a behaviour they believed in.

But having one or two of them here for the long term might tell him even more.

He now understood they really did live in a matriarchal society, with a ratio of almost three-to-one female-to-male — that polygynous marriages were considered normal. Several women courting one man was considered normal. The social dynamic when the five were together was most interesting to watch.

The times he had watched Harry and his three witch friends interact at breakfast seemed to bear that out.

That reality would cause tremendous waves in the English wizarding community — that the witches were more than willing to share. No need to be a “hidden” mistress in that land. In fact, from what he had seen, the concept of a mistress was unknown to them.

He knew that two Princesses — Celestia and Luna, no other names — ruled over their nation, which they called Equestria. He knew that both princesses were over a thousand years old, and extremely powerful. He knew that the two sisters had had a falling out over a thousand years ago and only recently made up.

He knew that Princess Mi Amore Cadenza ruled a second nation called the Crystal Empire with her consort Prince Shining Armor, and that it was a close partner to Equestria. And Prince Armor was Princess Sparkle’s brother.

It reminded him of the Hapsburg dynasty, in a much smaller setting. At least, smaller as far as he knew.

Princess Sparkle had only lately become an alicorn, notably after her brother had married one, and she watched over Ponyville. And he knew that Princess Sparkle was an acknowledged master of magic, the like of which they hadn’t seen for over a thousand years.

There was also the fact that the island of Atlantis apparently had several other nations. Something the ancients had never mentioned — maybe that had happened after the island went into isolation? The nations he had heard mentioned including one of Griffons and another of Dragons — creatures the wizards normally thought of as mere animals. But there, both species were intelligent with their own governments and societies. An intelligence he had learned the day he met Spike.

Or had the various creatures inhabiting Atlantis inspired the ancient Greek legends? If the magical creatures were as diverse as he thought that was a distinct possibility. After all, dragons being intelligent in Atlantis but not elsewhere was somewhat analogous to humans and orangutans. One was clearly a civilized intelligent being and the other an animal of limited understanding.

And, if he wasn’t mistaken, there were other intelligent species, including Deer-folk and cattle! Perhaps that was why they were all offended by the meat dishes in the Great Hall. He had had to reassure them several times that the meat that provided the food came from unintelligent animals.

That the Equestrians didn’t have or know of Goblins had been most interesting.

And then there was the point that in Greek mythology the Atlanteans worshipped Poseidon, who, among other things, was the god of horses. That, at least, could explain their fixation on calling people ponies, foals, stallions, and mares. Could Poseidon have been an extremely powerful wizard and the two older princesses his surviving daughters?

Yes, he had learned many things about the Atlanteans over the course of the week. And had many more to discover in the future, he was sure.

And all five visitors had asked if they could return in the future, especially Mr. Sunburst. He had asked several times.

Albus had the impression that particular Atlantean would set up house in the library, if he could.

But having two here permanently? He wasn’t sure if he should allow that.

There were both advantages and disadvantages.

He glanced at the map on the wall to the left of his desk. The Gryffindor wizards’ dorm was still full of little wizards and witches. He had to smile at the crowd in the First Years’ dorm room. The Firsties tended to congregate there every morning, usually around Harry’s bed, before heading off to the Common Room and thence to the Great Hall for breakfast.

One of them, he saw, was as an animagus. The name, at this distance, was too small to read. Not unusual considering how many of them were capable of such changes, especially with so many in the room at once. He didn’t bother asking for a closer look — he didn’t need to know which of them were in four-legged form.

He slowly nodded, coming to a decision. He had more to gain than to lose. “If you’ll keep your interactions with the students to a minimum, and do not interfere with the professors, I think I can allow this.”

They both nodded, looking relieved. “If you do not mind,” Miss Bonbon said, “We would like to audit your Charms and Transfigurations classes.” She smiled eagerly. “We will, of course, only occasionally audit classes with the girls and Harry.” She waved her wand, which he now saw came from a hidden holster on her arm. “We’ve already covered the First Year course book and I think we did very well.”

He nodded. “Yes, I don’t think there will be a problem with that. Perhaps you could show us some of your magical spells, as well.”

Miss Heartstrings smirked. “There really aren’t that many I know, truthfully, but I’d be happy to share them with you.”

With that settled, they spent a few minutes discussing things before Dumbledore said, “Skiffy.”

“Skiffy be here, your Headness.”

He smiled at the energetic house-elf. “Would you please escort these two witches to the guest quarters?” He looked at them. “Do you wish separate accommodations?”

They looked at each other. “Whatever you find convenient,” Miss Bonbon said.

“We share a house back in Ponyville,” added Miss Heartstrings.

The Headmaster nodded. “A two-room suite?” he suggested.

At their nods, he said as much to the house-elf.

“If you could be back here at ten,” he said to the two witches, “You can watch Miss Skeeter in her interview of Harry Potter.”

They smiled and nodded agreement before following the house-elf down the stairs.

Dumbledore stared as the door closed after them. This week, starting Monday, Minerva, Severus, and Filius would be telling each of their First through Third year classes that a Seventh Year would be teaching them two days a week. The assistant would spend one day on theory and the other on practical. That would give them the time to go through the huge amount of things in the Room of Requirement. The House-elves had already set aside three rooms of things that needed closer scrutiny.

He had to smile at the thought. The house-elves were positively ecstatic over the additional workload. Several portraits had already told him about how some house-elves were even bragging about how little sleep they had had the previous night because they were so busy cleaning the Chamber of Secrets and the Room of Requirement.

However, before Miss Skeeter arrived, he had some memories that needed examining. Tom had been wearing a particular ring his last year in Hogwarts. A ring that reminded him of the Gaunts’ ring from Bob Ogden’s and Morfin’s memories. All three needed reviewing.

And then there were his own memories he wanted to look at — and those regarded both Tom and the Equestrians.

۸- ̰ -۸

81 — Riddles

Harry and the girls paused on seeing the three additional adults in the Headmaster’s office, then continued.

“Ah, Mr. Potter, Miss Scootaloo, Miss Bloom, Miss Belle, do come in.” The Headmaster turned from his guests to face the students just arriving. “I only asked Mr. Potter here, but the rest of you coming with him is most fortuitous” He saw where they were all looking and smiled genially at them. “Miss Bonbon and Miss Heartstrings are here at Princess Sparkle’s request,” he said.

The two Equestrians eyed the Cutie Mark Crusaders suspiciously as the CMC returned the favour. For their part, the adult Equestrians were clearly surprised at seeing the four purple students. Harry could see they were visibly restraining themselves.

“Good Morning, Miss Bonbon, Miss Heartstrings,” the four carolled cautiously. They all knew each other quite well. The students wondered why the two ponies were here. They weren’t in trouble, were they?

“This is Miss Rita Skeeter, one of the lead reporter’s at the Daily Prophet, and her photographer, Mr. Bozo,” he explained to the four students, indicating the garishly-clad Rita and waving them forward and to the chairs he had just conjured for them. “Miss Skeeter, I would like to present the three foreign students you’ve no doubt heard much about, as well as Harry Potter.”

The witch stood as she was introduced, and stepped close to them. She was tall and wore green leather robes with maroon furs at the collar and sleeves. She had blonde hair set in elaborate curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. Her blonde curls were curiously rigid, suggesting her hair was styled with magic. She wore spectacles studded with gemstones — Harry assumed the gems were real. She had pencilled-on eyebrows and three gold teeth. Rarity would have been horrified at the reporter’s appearance.

Harry noticed, as she shook his hand, that she had thick fingers ending in two-inch nails, giving the impression of claws or talons. That the fingernails were painted crimson added to the effect.

The three girls protectively moved closer to him, eyeing her as a potential predator, scowling at her leather-based clothing. She noticed their reactions and gave him a sharp smile before retreating to her chair.

She reached down into her a crocodile-skin handbag, and took out an acid-green coloured quill.

Across from her and beside the Headmaster’s desk stood a large, tripod-mounted, black box-camera that was smoking slightly. It was positioned to catch a flattering position of the reporter talking with Dumbledore, which Bozo, a paunchy man, was now rearranging to get pictures of the students.

Harry assumed that he had already taken a few pictures of the others in the room.

“I don’t think we need anything as special as a Quick-Quotes Quill, Miss Skeeter,” said the Headmaster.

She gave him a long look, during which he tilted his head, eyes-twinkling, as he raised an eyebrow.

She sighed, and put the quill back in her purse, pulling out a normal looking quill. She smiled, resembling a wolf smiling at his next dinner, as she stared at the four students.

“First,” she said, “Why are you all purple?”

The students looked at each other, wondering how to answer, then the Headmaster spoke up.

“A potion accident,” he said jovially. “I’m sure it will wear off in a short time.”

Rita nodded, she had certainly seen her fair share of accidents in the Potions classroom. She turned her attention back to Harry.

The reporter started with, “I’d like to say how much I appreciate your part in the vanishing of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I realize, Harry — you don’t mind me calling you Harry, do you?”

The girls and Harry exchanged looks, then he cautiously said, “No, I don’t mind.”

“Wonderful,” Skeeter said, her smile getting just a tad bigger, “As I started to say, I realize this meant the death of your parents, and I am sorry that happened. But it did save the wizarding world from falling into Darkness. And that meant a lot to many people.”

Harry glanced at the girls, but said nothing.

“And then, you disappeared from wizarding society. People have been wondering where you were — were you really with your relatives, as some have recently suggested? And if you weren’t with a wizarding family, how did you meet your friends?” She glanced significantly at the three girls. “Who are obviously witches.”

Harry stared at her for a time, his brow wrinkled as he thought of how to respond. Finally, he said, “I don’t want to talk about my relatives. Someone might decide to confront them, and that would not end well. Just say that I did, indeed, live with my relatives. While I lived with them, they never mentioned the wizarding world at all. Which made it quite a surprise when I discovered magic was real.”

“Really?” they reporter said. “They never mentioned it at all?”

He shook his head. “They . . . disliked magic. Any magical accidents they either ignored or blamed on something else. They never explained.” He did not add that the blame usually fell on him, regardless of whether or not magic was involved in the accident. If they didn’t like the result, then it was his fault.

She stared at him a long time as he blankly stared back.

After talking with a pony who could obliterate entire mountains with a thought, and had imprisoned her sister in the Moon for a thousand years, Rita didn’t frighten him in the least.

Finally, she said, “How did you meet your friends?”

“I found my friends, here,” he nodded at the girls, “by accident, about,” he paused to think, “fourteen? Fifteen? I think it’s fifteen months ago. The girls . . . ,” he glanced at them and smiled.

They smiled back, proudly,

“. . . probably saved my life. So, I owe them a lot.”

The girls blushed.

“ ‘Twasn’t nothing,” murmured Apple Bloom.

“Anyway, once they found me, they got me to a hospital, and I ended up staying with Princess Twilight — but she wasn’t a princess then — in Ponyville.”

“You were hurt?” probed Rita eagerly.

The rest of the interview took over an hour. And not all of it was focused on Harry.

۸-~-۸

Castor’s day started badly.

Ever since his assignment as the “go-to” person for the Equestrians, he had been officially put on the Harry Potter case. To his regret. And once he had learned of the wizards . . . that meant that he had been rather quickly brought up to date on the entire Harry Potter, Saviour of Wizardkind situation. And how he had gotten that title. And the problems it was going to cause in the wizarding world if the wizards ever caught wind of the truth about the Dursleys and how they had treated Harry Potter.

Crown Prosecutor Cindy Morrow was on the other end of the phone.

“We have a problem with the Dursley case,” she said as soon as he had answered the phone. “They’re obviously going for an insanity defence, with mitigating circumstances. Yesterday, in an interview, he said . . . ,”

۸-_-۸

“Look, I don’t care what you think. A barmy old man dropped the kid off at our door ten years ago. And I mean that literally! Petunia got up to get the paper and set out the empty milk-bottles on the doorstep and there he was — in a basket with a note!”

Cindy leaned back in her chair, raising any eyebrow in disbelief.

“It’s true,” he said defensively. “If I’d known how much trouble the boy would be, I would’ve left him there for the milk-man!

John Creevey paused and shivered as he was unloading the empties from his milk float at the dairy. He looked around to see what had provoked that reaction. There was nothing unusual in sight, so he shrugged and went back to work.

“But, no, Petunia just had to bring him inside! For her bloody sister’s sake, she said,” Vernon continued bitterly.

“There was a letter stuffed in the basket. It said the boy’s parents had been killed by a terrorist and that we had to bring him up. He justified it by saying that having him in the house would protect us from the terrorist, somehow! Lying freaks!” he practically spit out. “And Petunia believed what the letter said, which was worse.”

He scowled at the table-top in front of him.

“That boy’s father told me at their wedding that he was rich, had gold in the bank, he said he did . . . didn’t have to work, he said. HA!” said Vernon derisively. “Not a farthing of that was in the basket to help us!” he concluded. “Wastrel, he was, wasted all that money . . . if he ever had any to start with! Freakish magician that he was!” He crossed his arms angrily and stared at her.

“We have the transfer papers in hand,” the prosecutor said. “According to them, Harry Potter was brought to your domicile on November Second, 1981, by a Sergeant Andrew Francis and Caseworker Peter New.”

He nodded, “Only if they dropped the freak off before dawn!”

“With signatures.”

“Forged,” he said with disgust.

She studied him carefully. “And no one ever checked up on his wellbeing?”

He snorted. “Like anyone cared. I’m sure one those freaks’ friends made the paperwork look golden. No one ever came by. Or contacted us.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you saying the paperwork is flawed?”

“Ha! Flawed, she says.” He rolled his eyes. “Complete fabrications, more like it.”

He leaned forward, one arm on the table-top, “Tell me, what have you found on the freak’s father? Where was James Potter born, huh? Where did he go to school?” The angry man leaned back, “Bet you can find everything about me and Petunia, you can. But her sister? I bet it all stops when she turned eleven. As if she disappeared from your world, the bloody scrubber.”

He snorted crossly. “It’s all those freaks fault. If not for them, none of this would have happened. Bloody damn daft magicians.” He scowled heavily at the table-top.

۸-_-۸

“And then he clammed up. Not another word.” Cindy sighed.

“Sorry to bother you with this, but the thing is,” she continued after a moment, “that what he said about the parents does check out. There’s not a trace of James Potter in the birth, marriage, or death records. The address listed on Harry Potter’s birth certificate is fake, for both the mother and father. And the mother disappears off the radar at age eleven. There’s just a note that she went to a private secondary school in Scotland. But her school records just cease with primary. And she, too, doesn’t have an official marriage or death record.

“And Social Services doesn’t have any other records except to note the ‘accidental’ death of Harry Potter’s parents, with a date, and the infant being transferred to the Dursley’s on November Second, 1981.

Castor sighed and ran his palm over his face. “Right.” He stood quiet for a moment, then said, “Let me do some work on this. Mr. Potter was . . . well . . . a government agent. The accident wasn’t an accident, but a terrorist attack in which both the parents and the head terrorist were killed. The trail to Harry Potter’s father is deliberately vague to throw off any attempt by the terrorists’ organization to backtrack and retaliate.”

She was silent for a moment. “There is a chance they would do that after all this time?”

He sighed heavily, “Yes.” He thought for a moment. “We want to keep this whole trial on track as normally as possible. We don’t want any publicity that might bring this to the terrorists’ attention.” He thought for a few moments, then nodded. “Arrange another meeting tomorrow afternoon with Mr. Dursley.”

He started to say goodbye when he had another thought. “By the way, the code words are wizard or obliviate. If you hear anyone mention those words, leave immediately, and call me.”

۸-_-۸

Castor leaned forward over the table and said in a half-whisper, “Look, you do not want to bring the wizards in on this! They don’t realize you had anything to do with Harry Potter, much less what the evidence we have on you shows you did to the boy.” He deliberately did not glance at the jammer in his pocket. “Mention the word magic too many times and they’ll be here, officially, and they’ll take the piss out of you right quick! Involve them, and no one will ever hear of you again. Nor your wife and child! Not when it concerns a magical child.”

The man stared at him, aghast. “They wouldn’t dare!” he thundered.

Castor rolled his eyes. “They would, and then make everyone forget everything they knew about you!”

Vernon narrowed his eyes. “You’re one of them,” he accused, leaning back as far as he could.

Castor again rolled his eyes. “If I were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be having a heart-attack and I’d be leaving the building and no one would ever be wiser.

“And tomorrow, no one would even remember I had been here or scheduled this appointment.”

Vernon glanced nervously at the mirrored window behind Castor.

“And all the video shows is us talking. We never came close enough for me to give you something, and there wouldn’t be a mark on your body.”

Grasping at straws, Dursley said, “The audio, it has us talking!”

“About which football team we like and their chances in the World Cup.” Castor patted his pocket, and nodded slightly.

“Look,” the former policeman said quietly and urgently, “I’m doing you a favour. Just shut up about the wizards and let things go the way they’re supposed to go. You and you wife abused a child. We have incontrovertible evidence of it.”

“But he’s one of those freaks!” Vernon hissed back at him.

“As far as the law is concerned,” Castor stated calmly, “he was a child in your custody.”

“And if I don’t?” Vernon hissed belligerently.

“Then when the wizards hear about you, they come here and question you. They learn of the charges and evidence we have. They will claim it is a wizard matter, take you to their prison, and you’ll disappear, as will your wife and your son.” Castor leaned back. “Your call.”

After a moment’s silence, Dursley slowly nodded. Castor stood. “That’s all I have to say.” He left the room, with Dursley looking extremely angry and upset.

He stepped into the next room to meet with the prosecutor. “With any luck, you won’t have any more problems with Dursley, except his stupid contention that the boy somehow ‘deserved’ it.”

Cindy nodded, taking the folder. “I’ll let you know how the case goes.” She paused, then handed him the tape from the interview they had just completed. Officially, he had never been there.

Castor hoped the man could control his temper. Otherwise they were all in for a hard time.

“On another topic, I was able to pull a few strings,” Castor explained to the prosecutor. “Here’s the real paperwork on James Potter and his family. The addresses are to businesses or vacant lots, now, as the original buildings were destroyed by the terrorists ten years ago. The causes are all explained as gas mishaps. The hospital birth and death certificates are in the folder, as is the marriage certificate. The minister who presided over the marriage has passed on. The judge on the coroner’s inquest is retired in a nursing home. He has dementia, unfortunately.”

And doing all that had required some very fancy footwork by M.I. Five! Finding where Harry Potter’s parents had died had been a total bastard, but cross-referencing to the town where his parents were reported to have lived, Godric’s Hollow, and “gas explosions” from the same time period had given them several options.

He sighed. “Harry Potter is listed as the inheritor of the Potter properties. The government will keep watch over them until he is of age. Because of his service to the crown, income has all been put into a bank account for Harry when he reaches his majority.”

Another bit of fancy work.

She nodded, then looked into the now empty room. “Well, I hope this gets settled quickly.” She shuddered and shook her head. “It’s bad enough to think any parent would treat the child of a sister so, but it’s even harder to understand why a terrorist would go after a child for revenge against the child’s dead parents.”

Castor agreed completely with that sentiment, and told her so.

۸-_-۸

After spending a rainy Sunday mostly in their dorm or the new library rooms, working on homework and playing games, the Gryffindors were not happy to see that Monday started as another rainy day.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder why the Daily Prophet didn’t run a story about him. He shrugged it off. It wasn’t that important to him.

By now, the school had acclimated to seeing the purple students. And the day passed without any disasters, although some of the older Gryffindor students seemed awfully interested in where the Gryffindor Firsties occasionally disappeared to — without using the Common Room’s entrance to the rest of Hogwarts.

And exactly where was Harry getting snacks from during the day, he overheard a few wondering. The elves were forbidden to obey orders from students — they all knew that now — so he couldn’t be asking them to bring him food.

At Tuesday’s breakfast, the owl parliament was just as large as always, and the students had good practice at using their shielding charms, almost without even thinking about it. Set and forget seemed to be the rule in that regard. Especially the Gryffindor Firsties. And Tuesday passed quietly with studying and practicing magic. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were especially entranced at the ability to do magic, something they had never, ever, thought possible. Seeing his three friends playing with magic was gratifying to Harry — they weren’t Cutie Mark Crusading!

Wednesday started a bit differently.

With the owls came the Daily Prophet. With Skeeter’s front-page article. Muggles Abuse Harry Potter! screamed the banner headline. The article was mostly fantasy, but it did contain some of the truth, Harry was unhappy to see — a few of the guesses were uncomfortably accurate. Fortunately, for the Dursleys’ at least, the article did not single them out as perpetrators of the abuse. While it didn’t mention his cupboard, it did mention his being the victim of a gang. However, the article did recount tales of other wizards and witches being targeted by muggles, and wondering how much of that had been directed at Harry, as well. It was not a kind article to the muggles.

Below the main article were several other articles. One focused on his historic defiance of the killing curse, and his role as the saviour of wizarding England. It was mostly fantasy about what happened that October 31st night. Which he continually groused about to his friends and anyone else who would listen.

After all, the only person to survive the confrontation was himself. And no one had ever asked him what had happened that night, either! Not that it would have helped as he was certainly too young to consciously remember anything, anyway.

Mentioned at the end, however, was another article that had details about his parents which he was more than eager to read. The elements about his pure-blood father were disturbing to Harry, however. The descriptions of his antics with his friends Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew sounded suspiciously like Dudley’s gang. They were not as physical as what Dudley had done, but they definitely, in Harry’s opinion, treaded the line on cruelty, even if the story did play them off as “youthful exuberance” and “pranks.”

The article wasn’t nearly as complimentary about his muggle-born mother, mentioning her Hogwarts achievements — Slughorn Club, Prefect, Head Girl, and brilliant transfigurations scores — in terms that were not nearly as glowing as his father’s less impressive accomplishments.

Somehow, they made his successes appear more important that hers, even though hers were more notable.

It was a shock to see that his father had been friends with their new History professor. He would have to hunt the wizard up for more stories. Maybe the professor even had some stories on Neville’s parents? Harry would find out.

A third article, by far the longest, focused on Harry’s time at Hogwarts and was reasonably correct. And contained quite a few details on Sweetie Belle’s inadvertent gender-swap and love potions, and their aftermaths. Both were played as normal Hogwarts’ horse-play (which was used deliberately as a pun as the actual chasers and chased in the love-potion incident had all been ponies). Far too many had seen them racing around the school for there to be any doubt about what had happened.

The last article focused on his relationship with the three fillies. While he had tried not to say exactly why he had needed to go to a hospital when they had first found him, the article unfortunately, and accurately, blamed muggles. Rita had cast the fillies in the roles of brave saviours, somehow sensing his needs and rescuing him.

That article was the most embarrassing, Harry thought, as it was mostly built on speculation and innuendo. And repeated the love potion incident with the slant that maybe it hadn’t been all that accidental. Good, clean fun as far as the wizards and witches were concerned, but maybe not all that much an accident. The insinuation that he was in the middle of a love quadrangle left him breathless.

Didn’t she understand they were his friends? Choosing one above the others would be a disaster. And probably leave him alone and friendless.

There was even an article buried in the back about the Equestrians, including the embarrassing list of things the Gryffindors were not allowed to do because of them!

It appeared this particular list was limited to the Gryffindor House, although how the reporter had found it was unknown. Probably one of the other students had told his or her parents and they had relayed the story hoping to curry favour with the reporter. Considering the reporter’s reputation, from what the older half-blood students told them, she could be quite vicious if she wanted. Having her thank you for information was not a bad idea.

And the article repeated the Headmaster’s suspicion that the Equestrians were from Atlantis. Either the Headmaster had let that slip to someone other than Mr. Weasley or they had reached that incorrect conclusion themselves. Harry hoped that when the truth came out — that they were from an entirely different world — that the wizards and witches wouldn’t be too upset. Although, from what he had seen, would they even believe the Equestrians? Proving the portal led to another universe and not just another land would be difficult. Unless Celestia or Luna played with the sun and moon, again. Or Discord got involved. That last made him shudder. Perhaps he should mention that error on where they came from to Twilight so she could straighten things out?

Still, overall, the articles were a positive slant on Harry, the fillies, and the Equestrians.

And, based on conversations he overheard from others, everyone agreed with that sentiment — except the Slytherins.

He did notice at dinner that evening, however, that the Gryffindors and Slytherins were a lot less purple than they had been. It was more noticeable on the Slytherins because they had been farthest from the incident.

۸-~-۸

Elly decided she had waited long enough. When no one was looking she transformed into one of the witches she had seen earlier in the week. For a moment, she didn’t move, waiting for a reaction from the emotional lake around her. Nothing changed. Smiling to herself, she picked up her bag and slowly walked towards the Goblin bank.

She had had plenty of time to watch them. Their default emotion seemed to be one of disgust at the wizards and witches as they entered the bank. Though the goblins bowed as they opened the doors, they were hiding their true feeling behind calm expressions. Gaining love from them would be a chore, and she was unsure if it would even be worth the effort.

They bowed to her, as well, without the slightest change that she could detect. She had fooled them into thinking she was a witch.

A second set opened the inner doors, which had a legend of warning over them. She mentally resisted rolling her eyes after taking it in. She had no interest in robbing the goblins.

Even as late in the evening as it was, the bank was busy. About twenty more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses.

Smiling, she queued up at a short line. After a minimal wait, she was at the front of the line. “Good evening, sir,” she said politely. She placed her bag on the counter and began scooping out the gold coins. “I would like to exchange these for the proper coins of the realm.”

The goblin watched impassively as she built a pile of coins. He sighed, in a much put-upon manner, grumbled and scowled, and pulled up a scale. He started stacking the coins and measuring them, continuously mumbling under his breath.

While he did that, she again reached into the bag and began pulling out the gems she had collected from Rarity. She thought it rather ironic that the Element of Generosity was funding her new start on this world. Even if it was unintentional.

The goblin stopped his counting when she placed the three magic-bearing gems on his counter alongside the others. He blinked once, then signalled another goblin. He looked up at her. “I am not qualified to handle those gems,” he stated. He quickly swept the all the gems into a different bag, which he gave to the goblin now standing, waiting. He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it, as well, to the other goblin.

“Take these, and her, to Master Knifethrower.” He turned back to her. “I will have your coinage ready for you when you return to the lobby.”

Nodding as she hid her uncertainty, she turned and quickly followed the goblin deeper into the bank.

۸-~-۸

82 — Can You See Me?

The goblin led Elly down stairs and through tunnels until she was sure they had left the magical confines of Diagon Alley and were under the “muggle” portion of London.

The goblin finally stopped before a large door with intricate carvings. He knocked, then opened the door and strode inside. He deposited the bag and note on the desk and promptly left. No words were exchanged.

The camouflaged changeling noticed the four guards, with their spears, swords, and knives, stationed in the four corners of the room as she entered it.

The low ceiling would hamper flight, but then she was smaller than them in her ling form, which should give her an advantage considering how high the ceiling was, at least a yard above her head. She should be able to handle the five, but it would be mostly due to her surprise attacks and shapes. Her wings would give her a distinct advantage.

She ignored the chair in front of the desk and remained standing. If she sat, she would be blind to anything behind her, and it would severely limit her choices should things . . . not go well.

She did not have much information on the goblins outside of their interactions with wizards and witches she had seen outside the building. And goblins in Equestria were almost impossible to find, anyway. They much preferred their own company and kept themselves far from any of the other races. So much so, that many races considered them a figment of legend.

Lings knew the truth. But was any of it relevant to here?

The goblin at the desk barely glanced at her. He casually spilled the gems on his desk. He quickly separated the three magic-bearing gems with his long fingers and studied them carefully. The remainder he barely looked at, taking only a moment to examine each.

While he was doing that, another goblin knocked and opened the door. She turned slightly and stepped to the side, putting the chair between her and the new goblin. The goblin at the door merely stood there for a moment, and stared at her through a crystal on a staff before he just as quickly left.

Knifethrower leaned back in his chair to stare under his bushy eyebrows at her. “I will give you twenty-seven thousand for these three, each.” he gestured at the three magic-gems, “and ten thousand for the others.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “No haggling. That’s our top price.”

While the goblin radiated disdain for her, there were no traces of dishonesty in him — well, none that mattered in this transaction.

She shrugged. “That seems fair,” she said.

He stared at her another moment suspiciously — which seemed their default attitude in business — then opened a drawer and tossed a leather wallet on the table. At her puzzled look he sighed dramatically. He explained how a wallet worked and that she didn’t have to carry all the gold with her. And that the credit card in it was usable with muggle merchants, all for a small fee.

While he was explaining, there was thump from his desk. Stopping momentarily, he looked in a drawer, and read something off the paper he removed, He grunted, then dropped the paper back into the drawer, and continued his explanation in bored tones.

She didn’t intend to return to the muggle side any time soon, but the option to do so without losing access to her money would give her an advantage she hadn’t had before.

“Or do you want an acromantula silk wallet,” he finished, sneering slightly.

Again, she shrugged. “Is that more expensive?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “That one will do,” she said nodding at the wallet on his desk.

He paused a moment, frowned at her, then asked, “Are you a muggle?”

She smiled slightly, then said, “I have not yet purchased a wand.”

Again he stared at her. Then he slowly nodded. With eyes narrowed, he asked, “Are you an Equestrian?”

She concealed her start as best she could. However, by the glee she perceived, the goblin had detected it.

She took a deep breath to centre herself and prepared, mentally, for the fight that was sure to ensue. “Yes.” Her heart began to thud in her chest. She dared not show fear, or anything other than confidence. The legends said that to do otherwise could lead to conflict.

He studied her carefully, taking note of her posture, which she hoped he hadn’t noticed was a bit different from previously. He nodded. “We do not care what happens outside of Gringotts.” Then he sneered, “We are not slaves to the Ministry as are many wizards.”

He continued a moment later, grumpily, “As long as you obey our laws inside the bank, you will be allowed to visit. Your money is safe with us, regardless. The only activities your vault will incur are normal fees, except for any fines that might be leveed for infractions against Gringotts. Payment demands from anyone are ignored unless you authorize them.”

She relaxed a bit and tilted her head, “Will you tell anyone I have been here?”

“We tell the ministry only who has an account here, and where they say they are from. We do publish a record of the top ten Vault holders.” He grinned toothily, “Or rather, those that are active.” He paused, then smirked. “You are not a Top Ten depositor. For a small fee we can ensure that no one knows that you are an Equestrian or that you have a vault here.”

He leaned back and considered her for a moment. “If you were to give us information about this Equestria, we could forgo that fee,” he said in a sly tone. “For sufficient information, we could even forgo the normal vault fees for a period of time.”

He leaned forward. “The other Equestrians have been here only once, and information is difficult to come by. However, we know they are animagi and have other forms they can switch to, ponies, it would seem. You could start with showing us yours.”

She considered very carefully what her options were and how she might use them to her advantage. Her instructors had mentioned that information could have a bit value to ponies — limited by its accuracy, amount, and timeliness. That really wasn’t a ling’s concern — only collecting for the hive had any real value. But sometimes their targets desired to know things, about other ponies, which could lead to love collecting from the one they were with.

While it was tempting to give the information about the ponies as revenge, she really didn’t know the value of what she could tell the goblins. Or if it would come back to her later, to her distress. In most cases, ling’s were never around later when the accuracy or timeliness of the information they supplied became known.

A smart infiltrator did not give away the hive’s secrets.

But this wasn’t about the hive, it was about the ponies.

But it was about her home world.

Which she could not return to, considering who controlled the portal.

But how would it harm her if she refused to help them?

Could she take the chance it wouldn’t?

However, unless it threatened the hive, the here and now was more important than maybes and what-ifs.

And yielding information might win her alliance and support from a powerful goblins. Or, at least, a neutral stance regarding the ponies.

“The ones you have met are my enemies,” she said carefully. “How do I know you won’t sell me to them to recoup your payments to me and take my vault?”

Knifethrower leaned back and scowled at her. “Gringotts’ treaty with the wizards forbids such actions. The treaty does not allow even the Ministry to get information from us not provided for in the treaty.”

“Which is?” she asked.

“We are only obligated to tell them an account exists for a specific account holder, not how much is in it,” he started reluctantly. “We are not permitted to transfer money without the account holder’s permission, nor provide access to anyone other than the holder of the account’s key, or whomever the account holder authorizes. We cannot release information about one account holder to another. The items in a vault can only be released to the account holder or a designated being. The vaults are sacrosanct — we touch nothing in them unless collecting a fee, payment, or fine.”

“Would I be violating any rules by disclosing what I know of another account holder?”

He grinned, showing many sharp teeth. “As long as it is not any details of the holder’s account, no, you are not violating any rules. Neither are we in asking about or paying for any additional details about our clients. And we are, after all, not inquiring about anything in a vault.”

“What is forbidden to put in a vault?”

“Anything that would put Gringotts at risk, such as explosive potions or artefacts, or items that would allow unauthorized access to Gringotts or any vaults.”

“And the fine?”

“Confiscation of the item and a thousand galleons, minimum. More according to the item’s danger. The amount is set by a committee of goblins and Ministry officials on each incident.”

She stared at him for several moments, then, in a flash of green fire, transformed into a gold-coloured unicorn mare with a two-tone blue mane and tail and green eyes. Her cutie mark was a five-pointed star with smoke coming from it. She stood so that the goblin had a clear look at her cutie mark.

She had seen a unicorn like that in Canterlot.

“An agreement on what you will give for information is needed,” she said, sitting down on the chair once she returned to human form. “And that states the information will not be used to attack myself, the ponies, or anyone else I might mention. The only exception is if they physically attack Gringotts or the goblins in general — except in self-defence of themselves or others.”

It was a bit more complicated than that, but she was satisfied with the result. She didn’t know if they would honour such an agreement in full, but the wizards appeared to trust the goblins with their business. And she could detect no evidence of treachery or deceit in his emotions. Nor in those in guarding the room. All she felt from them was satisfaction in an agreement.

For five thousand galleons, and a number of free services for seven years, she told them of the present Equestrian political situation, as well as its population and size. She included information for the last decade, and more general information about the last thousand years. And the neighbouring countries and makeup of the populations, and their general histories, too. She mentioned Equestria’s rulers without saying exactly what they were capable of doing, just that both were over two thousand years old; quite skilled as fighters, diplomats, and rulers; and very powerful magically.

The longer she talked the more relaxed the goblins became.

It took several hours. They offered drinks. She took water.

She did not tell them of the conflict between the lings and the ponies in Canterlot. Nor that the ponies were treating extensively with the “muggles.” In any case, their questions were centred on the Equestrians’ activities in their native world, not this one.

The goblins were especially interested to learn that magic was openly practiced in all of Equestria, that there were no restrictions, and that there were goblins there, although reclusive in the extreme.

Elly did take advantage of their offer to mask her account as a revival of an old account that they knew was unimportant to the wizards and witches of England. The last known recipient of the name, a half-blood, had died in 1895.

Her new name was Elly De Rippe and cost her only a few drops of her disguised blood on several different papers. Her new-to-her old Vault was surprisingly full of galleons. Except for the “extra” payments, the rest came from her gems and gold coins, the goblins assured her. There was furniture, and books in a bookcase, from the previous owners. There was no property, though. It had been disposed of for tax payments to the Ministry many years ago.

Knifethrower concluded their business, with an offer. “If you wish to share any more information, our doors are open to you.” From his suspicious feelings, she knew he suspected her of not telling them everything she knew, he just didn’t know if it was valuable to them. His disappointment at her detected escape through the portal was clear. They both knew that detection meant an upgrade of its defences.

Most of the Alley was quiet when she left Gringotts and she easily made her way to The Leaky Cauldron. It cost a galleon for a room for the night, which included breakfast the witch behind the bar assured her.

۸-_-۸

She passed most of the morning waiting for the shops to open by sitting in a corner and observing the wizards in the tavern. She slowly consumed two cups of “tea.” A strange brew, she thought, and a bit bitter. She had accepted the breakfast and ate it. She would dispose of what she didn’t need, later, as she had been taught.

The first time a wizard came through the floo, shortly after she sat down, surprised her. She realized she should have expected that from the lectures she had overheard. Plus, the wizards and witches appeared to be a close knit group. The barman seemed to know everyone who came through as he greeted most of them by name. Although, if he was the first line of defence for Diagon Alley, it would make sense for him to know all the regular attendees to the Alley. She wondered if he used magic to do so.

A group of four rather clumsy wizards and witches, not that she was all that graceful, came through the floo at about the time she decided to visit the wand making wizard. Fortunately, she, at least, had had several weeks experience in the hive practicing as a minotaur while a working for the rank of cadet infiltrator. And had spent the last two weeks carefully studying how humans moved.

She followed them as they went to the enclosed courtyard. The lead wizard used his wand to open the wall, which was just as impressive a piece of magic this time as it had been last night. She could use such a wall to hide her hive in the future.

The wizards nodded to her, acknowledging her presence. “Extraordinary isn’t it?” the lead wizard asked her as they stepped into the Alley. His freely-flowing emotions were a mix of pride and excitement.

It was at that moment that she realized the group of four were actually ponies.

The outflow of emotions from the witch was exactly what she would expect from a pony who was seeing this for the first time — wonder, excitement, fear of the unknown — all in flavours she distinctly found familiar. And very unlike the flavours she sensed from the humans around her. The wizards and witches tended to more suspicious and cautious. And bored with the routineness of their actions.

The other two wizards were clearly pony guards, as their attention was on the other wizards and witches in the alley, constantly scanning for trouble, and noticing everything not a threat as an after-thought. Just as the guard ponies did in Ponyville and around the portal while on duty.

Her training allowed her to remain calm, but she slowly drifted back as they made their way down the Alley towards the shop she wanted as well — Ollivanders.

She sighed as they went into the shop first.

She was in a quandary.

If she ran off, she would probably escape their notice.

But she wanted to know what the ponies were doing here and this was an excellent opportunity. And, at the same time, she needed to watch them and see how the humans reacted to them.

If she tried to discretely spy on them from outside, however, the guards would notice her.

She sighed again, and followed them inside. As her instructor had said, “If you act as if you belong there, the ponies will never see anything out of the ordinary.”

The proprietor was already greeting his four customers. “Good morning,” he said a soft voice. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. Which was odd considering the large windows that fronted the shop and door. “It is good to see you again, Mr. Marks. Is your wand still serving you well? Alder wood with a unicorn hair core, I recall. Your own, too.” He raised an eyebrow inquiringly. As Mr. Mark nodded, the old man turned to the rest. “I am Mr. Ollivander.”

That was interesting. He had somehow divined, or he had been told, that they were ponies. She had thought they were trying to keep it quiet. Maybe it was that they were just not proclaiming they were from another world.

The lead wizard took a long and wide box from his robes and handed it to the old man. “A few of our first attempts. I’d like your opinion on them.” He swept his hand to indicate the others, “And new wands for these three.”

Elly sat on the rickety chair to one side. “I also want a wand,” she said, “But I’m not in a hurry. I can wait while you help them.” She nodded at the four Equestrians.

Mr. Ollivander spent a moment staring at her before nodding. “If you have no objections?” he said to the others, inquiring with a tilt of his head.

They quickly declared they did not mind in the slightest.

The next hour was fascinating to Elly as she saw magic being performed through a wand and not a horn. And that selection process seemed to be almost random as Ollivander named wand woods and cores as he handed them over without any apparent methodology.

Knowing that the ponies were designing and building their own wands was another sign that Equestria was changing rapidly. And not to the lings’ benefit. In the future they would have to worry about magical defences from every pony, not just the unicorns. She couldn’t help but feel she was right in leaving the old world behind. At least, here, the lings would be on an equal magical hoof with the humans.

“Usable,” Mr. Ollivander said of the four wands. “How did you decide on the length of the hairs and wood?”

Mr. Marks looked at the witch, Bright Star, he had called her.

She shrugged, “It felt right,” she said.

Mr. Ollivander smiled. “An excellent answer.”

He looked closely at one wand, “I do not see any signs of cutting on the wood,” he continued. “So, I presume you have already discovered how to place a wand-core without disturbing the rest of the wand?” He looked up at Bright Star.

She nodded, and said, “The core follows the core-grain of the wand to prevent any instabilities created by crossing a grain. It is entirely contained in the wand’s core.”

He nodded approvingly.

After receiving advice on how to improve their wands, and things they needed to think about in wand making, the four ponies left. As they did, Elly realized she had be unconsciously absorbing love from them — Mr. Mark for his student and their work; the others for their new wands. It hadn’t been much, but it had made a difference to her reserves.

It really was very startling how much more freely love flowed from the ponies. And how relieved she was that they had left.

“Now then miss,” the wand maker said as the door closed, “I assume this is you first wand, correct?” He stared at her in a strange fashion, almost as if he could see something she couldn’t. Her magic, perhaps?

She nodded.

He studied her for a moment, then fetched a box and reverently held out its wand to her. Thirty minutes and many wands, later, he stopped and stared at her. “I wonder,” he said hesitantly.

He went into the back room and emerged several minutes later. “Hawthorne, an excellent wood for charms and concealment magic, with a very powerful alicorn hair from your home,” he said, holding the open box to her. She gave him a long look before she reached to pick it up. It seemed to leap into her hand.

Sparks flew across the room when she touched it.

He smiled broadly. “Yes, a perfect match.”

She glanced at the rather large pile of boxes at one end of the counter.

“A powerful wand. It will serve you well.” He stared at her, making her uncomfortable. “Yes,” he said, finally, “A powerful wand indeed.”

He took a quick breath and straightened, “Now, would you like a wrist holder, as well?” he indicated a counter to one side of the small shop.

Minutes later she left with a leather brace on one arm that was hidden from others’ sight by a spell. Not only did it easily contain her nine-inch wand, but it was comfortable, too. She wondered if the holster and wand would be usable when she transformed. And how holding a wand would affect her rather pedestrian ling magical casting.

She also left with the names of two tutors in magic, one for transfigurations and the other for spell casting. And the admonishment that she should make sure her tutors notified the Ministry.

The threat that the Ministry might otherwise take some kind of action against her was not stated in so many words, but she took the warning to heart.

She headed for the bookstore the old man had recommended, Flourish and Blotts. She hoped she’d be able to read them. She had a lot of reading to do. The goblin’s questions about Equestria had suggested areas she needed to investigate.

And she needed to find a place where she could surreptitiously feed herself. Staying in the Alley was not even sustaining her levels. Any serious magic use would deplete those too quickly for comfort. And take a long time to renew.

Time, she was worried, she might not have.

۸-_-۸

It was Friday, again, and the purple Gryffindor cohort was nervous as they approached the Potions classroom. Today’s potion was supposed to be a vitamin potion. What Sweetie Belle, or Neville, might do with that had them all nervous.

Surveying the room as they entered, they couldn’t help but notice the new seating arrangements. The normal-coloured tables and chairs where all occupied by the still purple Slytherins, except for the tables closest to the point of the purple triangle that divided the room. The purple chairs were, naturally, left for the Gryffindors.

Unhappy with the selections, but knowing it was useless to argue the matter, the Gryffindors settled in their new seats. They started setting up their equipment.

As usual, after sneering at them all, even the Slytherins, Professor Snape ordered, “Today’s potion instructions are on the board. Get started.”

Harry sighed and followed the orders. He couldn’t help but glance at Sweetie and Neville both before and after each step in the brewing process. As did most of the class. To say they were goosey was an understatement.

There were several odd noises or exclamations from Sweetie’s and Neville’s table area. Each unexpected noise resulted in a wave of spreading panic across the room as students frantically grabbed their wands and cast the bubble-head charm — just in case.

Professor Snape spent a good deal of time peering into the mistrusted two students’ cauldrons. That, of course, meant both students were extremely nervous in their brewing. Although his close attention to those two did mean the other Gryffindors managed most of the class without his presence behind them. For which they were grateful.

Unfortunately, grabbing hastily for your wand meant you had to stop what you were doing. That, in turn, meant the mixing results at some tables were decidedly off from what was expected at the end of class. Which seemed to arrive without any catastrophes, to everyone’s amazement.

Sweetie looked triumphant while Neville looked relieved.

Professor Snape looked suspicious.

Each student carefully decanted their potions into small bottles, some were powders or creams instead of the expected liquids. And the colours ranged across the rainbow.

As a result, most of the class received poor grades. However, Professor Snape seemed intrigued by the brilliant, day-glow yellow colour Sweetie Belle’s potion had instead of the dull purple it was supposed to be. He removed the stopper and waved his hand over it gently, wafting any smell it might have in his direction. There was a distinct mint smell instead of the normal dirty-socks the book said the vitamin potion should have.

He looked at her with narrowed suspicious eyes. Sweetie shifted uncomfortably, then whispered, guiltily, “I thought a mint leaf might help . . . .”

Snape sighed, replacing the stopper, and carefully set the bottle aside. “Troll,” he sneered at her.

“But she didn’t blow anything up!” protested Scootaloo.

He leaned back and frowned at her, then said, “Troll. And two points off for questioning my judgement.”

Scootaloo gave Sweetie a shrug as if to say, “Well, I tried,” as they hurried out of the room.

۸-~-۸

83 — Hidden Objectives

It wasn’t until the Slytherins and Gryffindors started to approach the Great Hall that the results of Sweetie’s potion became apparent.

“Watch where you’re going,” an outraged Slytherin said to a Hufflepuff Second Year witch who had just deliberately walked into him.

The Hufflepuff jumped back and knocked into another Slytherin. That Slytherin shoved her off with a disgusted look. The Hufflepuff looked around in fright, then said, “What? Who said that? Who pushed me?”

The Slytherins looked surprised at that response, as did the Gryffindors further behind. The purple students were rather obvious.

“I said it,” growled the first Slytherin, turning to face the Hufflepuff.

The witch looked around in panic, then screeched, “Eek!” and quickly ran ahead, leaving them all puzzled.

As they reached the clump of students at the Great Hall doors it only got worse.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going! There’s someone here!”

“Can’t you use your eyes, you oaf?”

“Move you great lump!”

“Hey! Who’s pushing me!”

“Cut it out!”

By the time the Gryffindor and Slytherin Firsties had seated themselves it was obvious that while they could see themselves just fine, no one else could.

Harry watched a couple of the Slytherins smile broadly, then start pranking anyone close to them — tapping their victim on the shoulder, whispering behind their back, tripping the students they didn’t like, spilling their juices in their laps. All while knowing they, as invisible First Years, were safe from retaliation by their victims. After all, no one but their fellow First Years could identify them. And if they were sneaky enough, even their friends wouldn’t know for sure.

Snickering, the Gryffindors quickly followed suit.

Things were quickly descending into bedlam when Professor Snape made his dramatic entrance, as usual. He walked straight into Professor McGonagall and then, stumbling, tripped over Professor Flitwick as those two worthies walked directly in front of him trying to restore order to the Hall.

Harry and the fillies watched, shocked, as both Professors McGonagall and Flitwick shot off stunners at Professor Snape, Their Potions’ professor had fortunately fallen to his hands and knees and the spells went over his head, although Flitwick’s barely missed the tall wizard’s back

It was amazing to watch the three professors firing spells off at each other, and brought the students to a halt in their own activities. It took a moment for the Firsties to realize that the two professors could not see Professor Snape, and that he didn’t realize that fact. The two professors were at a distinct disadvantage at not being able to see the third except for the flash and colours of his spells.

It stopped when Professor McGonagall said, “Severus? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” he snarled back, quickly moving so she couldn’t track his voice.

“I don’t know, we can’t see you.” She still held her wand at the ready. She twisted her head back and forth to take advantage of her superior hearing. She re-aimed her wand at him as he took another quiet step sideways. Professor Flitwick watched from his position on the floor, wrapped up in ropes as the result of a powerful incarcerous.

He looked at her, then the wondering faces of the students. He glared at Harry and the fillies. “How many students can see me?” he asked. “Raise your hands,” he said even as he again moved sideways.

Only the First Year Slytherins and Gryffindors raised their hands.

It took him only a few moments to explain the situation to the other professors.

It was a most memorable lunch, even if no one but the Slytherin and Gryffindor First Years could see Professor Snape glaring at Sweetie Belle through the remainder of the meal.

The rest of the Great Hall did note his thunderous expression when he became detectable just as everyone finished their meals. Over the rest of the afternoon the First Years slowly returned to visibility, based on how far they had been from Sweetie Belle in the potions’ classroom.

It was strange, Harry thought, to hear Sweetie Belle and Neville without being able to see them, as they were the last two to become visible shortly before dinner.

۸-_-۸

Elly stared at the owl on the other side of the window. She knew, of course, that owls were the preferred method of mail delivery for wizards — the ponies used postmares and hoof-delivered the mail. Still, that left her puzzled as to why the silly thing was delivering a message to her.

Perhaps Gringotts had information for her?

She made her way to the window and opened it slowly so as not to frighten the bird. Not that she really thought the bird would suddenly leave. It had been tapping on the window for several minutes. She could sense its growing impatience at her delay. It was quite clearly communicating, “Come on, hurry up! I don’t have all day.”

When the window was open, the bird petulantly stuck out its leg with the shrunken letter rolled up on it.

The changeling carefully detached the letter, then said, “I’m sorry, but I haven’t any treats for you. Would a sickle do? You could buy your own treat.”

The owl tilted its head, considering, then gave a graceful acceptance bob.

Elly hurried to her bag beside the bed’s side-table, took out a sickle, and then gave it to the bird.

Nodding several times as it took the coin, the bird quickly flew off. Elly watched briefly as it angled towards Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Sighing, she examined the letter carefully. It was clearly addressed to her:

Elly De Rippe, The Leaky Cauldron, Second Floor, Room #3.

She broke the seal and was astonished to see what was written on the first page.

۸-_-۸

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

England’s Premier School

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Rippe,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Because term began on 1 September, you will need to bring this letter with you to the school as soon as possible so that you do not fall any further behind in your studies.

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress*

۸-_-۸

She stared at it, stunned. Could she work that to her advantage? Being in a school could potentially be of great service to her. It eliminated problems and provided a cover for her lack of knowledge about the culture.

First, though, she would need to get her supplies — the letter provided a list of necessary items. Most of them would be useful in blending in, no matter what she decided.

After acquiring her books and other things, and storing them in a trunk, she hid herself in an alley. A unique alley, from her point of view. It was beside a place called Madam Puddifoot’s in a wizarding village named Hogsmeade — she thought floo-travel was remarkable for the distances it covered. And scary for how quickly and easily reinforcements could arrive at a beleaguered town or village.

She transformed into a brick overlay and waited for the ambient love to start slowly refilling her reserves as she again considered what she knew. And what she should do.

Wizards and witches — unlike ponies, she had discovered — did not congregate in public places like parks. Finding a place she could lurk, as she had in the Ponyville playpark, was almost impossible. Wizarding children and their parents, it appeared, were mostly solitary individuals. They stayed close to their families and rarely ventured in public in groups. The floo-network and apparition allowed them to live anywhere they wanted. The services ponies normally needed close at hand were mere steps away for these wizards and witches, even if they were on the other side of the country. There was no need for them to live in any given location such as a village or town. She hadn’t seen any foals just playing in groups while their parents watched. She hadn’t seen any place where that could even happen.

She had discretely asked in the tavern where young people met, and been answered with Hogwarts. It seemed Hogwarts was where young witches went to get their husbands. OWLs and NEWTs were secondary for most witches. The OWLs only proved they were competent house-keepers.

Wizards and witches, besides having an almost equal number, were the reverse of Equestria, she had discovered. Mares in Equestria ruled the homes and courted the stallions. And the stallions raised the families and actually ruled the homes. Here, the wizards courted the witches, and the witches were expected to care for the families — raising little wizards and witches was quite time consuming. Without a primary school, much of the education was left to the mothers or tutors.

When she had asked elsewhere about where unmarried wizards and witches went for some time together, the answers had been, naturally, sports, theatre, and restaurants, just as the ponies did. Parks and recreational areas like circuses were not mentioned, unfortunately.

The restaurants and theatres were what she wished to know more about. The restaurants first, as they were open daily. Theatres sometimes closed for weeks at a time, and had a limited amount of time they were open each day or night. Trying to hang around discretely at a theatre would be difficult.

Then she had discovered that Madam Puddifoot’s was popular with the courting crowd.

Hence her current position. On a weekday, it wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. The weekends were what filled her reserves. Once she had the requisite skills in using a wand, she had planned to get a job as a server in that restaurant. That would put her closer to her food sources, and increase her take.

Once she understood how things worked in this world she would start a restaurant of her own using her Gringotts account. She didn’t care about making a profit, only enough to continue operations. Her real goal was acquiring the love she needed.

That had been her plan.

But this Hogwarts appeared to be an easier way, now.

Especially as her default form was no longer that of a quadruped changeling, with both horn and wings. That she was a biped sort of made sense, based on what the pony teachers had said. She just hadn’t expected to be considered so young.

۸-_-۸

Astonishingly, there was a new student at dinner on Saturday.

Elly De Rippe was sorted into Hufflepuff. She was a quiet and bland girl, with black hair and blue eyes. She was, apparently, the last descendant of an ancient house that everyone thought had disappeared. At least that’s what the more knowledgeable pure-blood students claimed in the Common Room that night. But not a member of the Sacred Twenty-eight, as one snobbish Pureblood said, sniffing in disdain.

Harry, and the other non-pure-blood students, learned that Hogwarts almost never had late arrivals. The girl must have only recently returned to England where the school could detect her, and the owls reach her. If she had been a week later, she would have had to wait until next September.

It was quite a noteworthy event. The gossip mill shot into full speed as they speculated on her history. For the pure-bloods, a lot of owls went out that night.

The Gryffindor Firsties were grateful that the school’s attention was no longer focused on them!

The following Monday, Harry learned from Parvati, who heard it from her sister Padma in Ravenclaw, who heard it from Sally-Anne in Hufflepuff, that Miss De Rippe’s parents had lived in Papua New Guinea and had planned to home-school her. In some areas, she already had a start on the practicals and was ahead of her peers.

“Papua New Guinea is a notoriously difficult country for wizards and witches,” Susan had said, Parvati told them. “My Aunt, who is Head of Magical Law Enforcement, gave me a thorough world background before I came to Hogwarts,” Susan had informed everyone. “While the muggle native peoples there believe in magic, the muggle settlers do not.”

Miss Bones had continued, “Unfortunately, the natives frequently make accusations based on greed and local land politics. And mob rule frequently drives people from their homes. Being a non-native is not protection. Living there is like living when the Statute of Secrecy just started — wizards and witches are always at risk. I don’t know why any wizarding family would live there!”

She had added, “Of course, a real wizard or witch would never interfere if a muggle were to be falsely accused. It would only make him or her stand out. And break the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.”

Elly had told the other Hufflepuffs, Parvati explained breathlessly, “A powerful and jealous wizard wanted revenge on his ‘intended’ for refusing his advances. He revealed her family as witches to the natives. He told them that that family was responsible for their poor crops the last two years — and not the poor weather.” The poor witch, according to Sally-Anne, had almost broken down in tears. “That condemned our entire wizarding village! The native muggles attacked and burned us out in the middle of the night. It was horrible!” their informant said the new witch had wailed.

“The Ministry Aurors arrived much too late,” Elly had continued. She had wiped her tears away and then blew her nose. “They were only concerned with hiding the event from the rest of the muggles, afraid the non-native muggles would realize that there are real wizards and witches. And break the Statute of Secrecy.”

She had suddenly been mad. “Not that we could prove the wizard and his friends had brought down our protective charms and blocked our escape via floo or apparition. No, there was no evidence he had done anything illegal,” She had said bitterly, tears again running down her face.

“I left by muggle means,” Parvati had told them the Hufflepuff had said. “A friend of my parents helped me. She didn’t trust the ministry to not use me, the only child to survive, as a scapegoat. She thought they would say that I had let slip we were witches. That they would blame me for all the deaths and destruction.”

And that was why she had no records, belongings, or other adults with her. Her parents’ friend had used a wand Elly had found in the village’s wreckage that night, as the Aurors were obliviating everyone in sight, muggle or wizard. Poor match though it had been, the adult had been able to use the confundus charm on a couple at the seaport and on some papers to get her past customs. The friend didn’t dare do anything more. She was afraid if she did that the Ministry would notice and that they might link her to the incident.

Elly had only made it to England last week, and after weeks of travel with the couple, who thought her their niece. Her parents had claimed family lived in England. “She told me,” Elly had said, “To go to The Leaky Cauldron and then to Gringotts, and ask about my great-great-grandparents.”

All this, of course, was told to the Gryffindors in the most dramatic way possible by Parvati and Lavender.

And had garnered the little Firstie much sympathy from her dorm-mates, who had given her hugs and cuddled her all Sunday as the story slowly came out.

And they continued to cuddle the quiet girl and console her on her losses. By the end of the week, though, most of the school barely noticed the subdued new witch always in the middle of the Hufflepuff pack.

Harry did notice, though, that she always sat with her back to them at the Hufflepuff table — which was beside the Gryffindors. She was always almost close enough to touch whichever of them sat across from him.

The Ravenclaws had the dubious honour of being beside the Slytherins. That put the Slytherins and Gryffindors at opposite sides of the Great Hall.

The Firsties were always seated closest to the Head Table, with the senior Prefect for their House beside them. The better for the adults to keep an eye on the excitable new students, Harry thought. Still, rather than seating at random, the new Hufflepuff sat close to them. He couldn’t help but wonder if she wanted to be near The-Boy-Who-Lived, but she never seemed to acknowledge him. She never even looked at him directly.

And in their shared classes she had eyes only for the three fillies.

۸-~-۸

On Thursday afternoon the magistrate repeated what he had said at the beginning of the trial, “At the Her Majesty’s Government’s request the evidence and testimony for this Crown Court trial will be held private for the protection of both the accused and the victim. The victim, as the court understands, is an under-age boy currently under the protection of Her Majesty’s Government at an undisclosed location.” He looked sternly at the two people in the dock. “Is that clear? The charge and the verdict will not be made public for a time of not less than twenty years.”

He scanned the nearly empty court-room. The only people present were the defendants, lawyers, Harry’s Social Services caseworker, and Castor, who was sitting quietly in the back. And the courtroom staff, of course.

“Do you have anything to say before sentence is passed?” The magistrate stared at the couple.

Castor hoped and prayed that the oaf in the dock and his wife would keep their silence.

In an effort to save time, and prevent publicity, the two accused were being tried at the same time. Fortunately for the wife, the cases were to be judged separately.

The woman, Petunia Dursley, glanced at her over-weight husband and nervously licked her lips as she shook her head. Her solicitor had insisted that she not object to the sentence. He had managed to secure what he considered a very generous plea deal, given the rather convincing evidence. A deal that included her getting to see her son on a regular basis. And the possibility of an early release if she behaved properly and showed contrition.

Both she and Castor, though, were worried about Vernon’s reaction. Vernon had a very quick temper, and tended not to keep it under control. Her husband had agreed to shoulder most of the blame for the boy’s treatment. He did love his wife and son, after all. It was just that freak that upset him so, didn’t he? If it would help her and his son, then he would gladly take the brunt of the sentencing. But he didn’t have to like the situation, did he now? It was, as he said, “All that freak’s fault!”

The couple had listened to the evidence the Crown prosecutors had placed in front of the magistrate for the last week. It had been very damning. Vernon had looked close to exploding several times, his complexion approaching that of a beet at times, but he had held his tongue.

If you considered her nephew as a normal boy, it was looked very bad for the two Dursleys, didn’t it? And she could see how others who didn’t know the truth would consider them to be awful parents.

Castor hoped his presence at the back of the court would remind the man of the stakes and mitigate his temper. It had worked, so far.

The defence barristers had cited the stressfulness of the situation and the lack of oversight from the government. They had tried to place the blame for the two’s abusive treatment of the boy on the government’s ineptitude. Their argument was simply that the government had failed in its charge of making sure the boy was in a proper home. He should never have gone to the Dursleys’ home. A casual interview any time after the first month would have revealed the situation before it escalated, and there should have been a stipend provided. The situation was entirely the Social Services’ fault and not their clients’.

In other words, they tried to claim mitigating circumstances.

Unfortunately for the defence, the prosecuting barristers had easily rebutted that argument — the Dursleys’ had, after all, signed the paperwork, hadn’t they? They had never complained to the Services, had they? They had never even complained to anyone other than their neighbours! And the couple had lied to their neighbours constantly about their nephew, Harry Potter. They had blamed him for things that clearly were the fault of their own child, Dudley.

The Crown had pointed out that the circumstances did not excuse the couple’s behaviour in the slightest. Many families were stressed with too many children and insufficient income, yet they did not take out their frustrations on one of the children in the manner the Dursleys had.

And the Dursleys had never contacted Social Services with the complaint that the child was a problem.

Vernon slowly stood up.

Castor, already leaning forward, sat on the edge of his chair.

Petunia sighed and slumped in her chair.

“It was that freak’s fault,” he thundered. “That Dumbles freak left the boy on our doorstep like the milkman leaving a bad bottle of milk! He had no right to interfere in our lives! I wanted to take the boy immediately to Social Services! But ’Tuny was too soft-hearted, she convinced me we should keep the boy.” He said ‘boy’ as if it were worthy of his utmost disgust.

Vernon’s solicitor had moved to the dock in front of the custody officer and was pulling at Vernon’s arm frantically, trying to get him to shut up and sit back down. The over-weight man was clearly contradicting the verified paperwork submitted by Social Services. Vernon shook him off.

“Then it was too late, we couldn’t go back. The freaks wouldn’t let us! It’s not our fault at all. He’s a freak and the freaks wouldn’t let us go! We didn’t have a choice no more!”

Fortunately for everyone, Castor believed, Vernon’s solicitor finally got his attention. He urgently told him to shut up or he’d screw the whole deal for himself and his wife and son.

The grumbling and red-faced man sat back down. He stared at the magistrate mulishly, arms crossed angrily.

The magistrate frowned intensely. “Are you through?” he asked frostily. He knew the evidence clearly showed the despicable man to be lying.

Dursley gave him a clenched-teeth nod.

“Will the defendants please stand,” he said. Once they were, he said, “Mr. Vernon Dursley, I have never seen a case like this in my time on this bench. The sheer length of time the abuse occurred and that no one noticed it at all is breath-taking. Instead of being ashamed of your treatment of your nephew, you seem proud.” He continued in this vein for several minutes, outlining what he thought were the most damning pieces of evidence. He stopped and stared at the clearly unrepentant man. “In view of the circumstances and your refusal to acknowledge the wrongfulness of your part in it, I sentence you to the maximum of ten years. I wish it could be more, as you clearly are not a fit father or husband.”

Castor could see that Vernon could barely hold himself back as his face turned purple and his fists clenched. But he did.

The magistrate turned his attention to the other defendant. “Mrs. Vernon Dursely, Petunia Dursley, your part in this tragic situation is that of a facilitator. You allowed both your son and your husband to abuse your nephew when you could have reined them back. However, there are mitigating circumstances.” The judge glanced at the size difference between the two. “Your sentence is not more than four years.”

Petunia’s shoulders slumped, and she barely held back the tears and as she struggled to maintain her equilibrium.

The custody officers were already moving their charges out of the room. Mr Dursley was glaring at Castor hatefully. He clearly blamed the former sergeant for his predicament and had no intention of forgiving or forgetting.

The magistrate glanced at the Social Worker. “I sincerely hope that the services involved will take a good hard look at their procedures to prevent this sort of abuse in the future.”

Harry’s Social Worker nodded, but said nothing.

Castor leaned back in his chair, monumentally relieved that the case was finally over. They had dodged that bullet.

Now he only had to worry about the walrus of a man sounding off while in prison!

۸-~-۸

The weeks began to go by and the Gryffindor and Slytherin Firsties returned to their normal skin colours. The weeks were punctuated by either Neville’s melting a cauldron, three times, or Sweetie Belle’s potion doing the impossible, twice — once both at the same time.

The first time, Sweetie Belle had given everyone donkey ears. Two weeks later it was squid tentacles for their tongues. Which scared the tartarus out of the other students every time the Firsties opened their mouths and hand-length tentacles shot out! It was loads of fun, especially at dinner, Harry thought.

Although, after coming over and carefully inspecting Harry’s set at their table, Myrtle had sighed and stepped back. “If only you were a few years older,” she had said, leaving them all puzzled. Several nearby older girls had spat out their pumpkin juice or started choking when she had said that. And then got some very creepy expressions, Harry thought.

The twins had exchanged startled looks, then grinned, and started looking out over Great Hall with even creepier expression.

The ears and tentacles, each, had even lasted through the change to ponies. That day Scootaloo had been especially fond of sneaking up to him and wrapping her tentacles around his pony ears — both sides at the same time. Finally, in the evening, he’d jumped up and hissed at her. And a tentacle war had erupted between them all. Five-to-one odds had ensured he lost.

The other Gryffindors, and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw witches, in the Common Room had all laughed hysterically at the sight.

A rare few had been creeped out at the cute little ponies with long tentacles shooting out of their mouths.

Afterwards, they had all collapsed into a pile in the middle of the Common Room. The witches had quickly taken advantage of their state by piling in, too. And appropriating a pony to pet and comb — not that any of the ponies minded the attention. It was very soothing, after all.

It had been fun, even if the entire school learned just how ticklish he was — and where.

Both changes had not lasted past Saturday’s breakfast. Which was kind of too bad for the tongue-to-tentacle change, Harry thought, as the way the older girls had jumped would have made for an ace joke for Halloween, which was coming fast.

On the other hoof, the twins seemed especially interested in the tentacles and spent hours making sure they understood what Sweetie Belle had done . . . .

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

* italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.
Invisibility potion result brought to you by Kichi!
The donkey ears and tentacle tongues courtesy of my daughter — an anime fan.

84 — Embassy

Classes on Halloween were light. It was difficult for the younger students to concentrate as the stories of the scheduled feast circulated.

To see how the entire Great Hall had been transformed was delightful. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low, black clouds. They made the candles floating in the air, and in the pumpkins on all the tables, stutter and flutter. The pumpkins muttered and howled, at first, scattered down the tables with one every yard. Then they started telling ghost and bat jokes. Harry was impressed with their inventory.

The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet, and they all began to dig in.

Professor Quirrell was not at his place, which was unusual, but the students didn’t care.

They were partway through meal when several Slytherin witches girls suddenly squeaked, followed a few moments later by the wizards. Then followed an exclamation of “I’m a boy!” almost at the same time as another shouted “I’m a girl!”

Harry’s first reaction, and most of the rest of the school’s, was to laugh. Until a Ravenclaw wizard, suddenly grasped at his chest, wide-eyed. Startled, they had all examined the feast laid out before them, and the gasps and exclamations had rapidly spread across the room. Even the Head Table occupants were not spared.

People were frantically casting detection spells that came back negative. Whatever was doing this was not something that triggered the poison-detection spells.

Just as several of the more senior students were starting to get mad, and muttering angrily at the Gryffindor wizard twins, they reversed back to their normal gender. Within five minutes of the first surprised gasp, everyone in the room had spent at least some time as the opposite gender.

The First Year Slytherins and Gryffindors were laughing so hard at their table-mates that several fell off their seats. Once restored to normal, some of the other students began to laugh as well.

The relieved sporadic laughter continued a while until Professor Quirrell suddenly burst into the hall. He looked frightened, and his turban was askew. He rushed to Professor Dumbledore’s chair and slumped against the table. He desperately gasped, “Troll — dungeons —” His eyes rolled up and he collapsed to the floor. He had fainted.

The hall erupted into panic.

Professor Dumbledore set off a cannon blast with his wand. “Prefects,” he boomed into the stunned silence, “take your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!”

Harry remained seated, as did the fillies, while all the other students jumped to their feet and started for the Great Hall doors. The four had had multiple experiences with dangerous animals in the Everfree Forest. Knowing a dangerous creature is wandering nearby, and then charging through the trees when you had no idea where the danger was, was a fool’s choice. Better to hunker down until the danger made itself evident — then flee from death as fast as possible.

Percy cried out “Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now.” He quickly noticed that most of the first years were not moving.

“Well, come on,” he said as a knot of students clogged the doors.

“NO!” Harry said firmly. “We don’t know where the troll is. He could be around the corner or on the stairs! It’s better to stay right here!” The fillies nodded agreement. The other Gryffindor First Years slowly sat back down.

The Gryffindor First Years reaction, or rather their obstinate inaction, drew the attention of the professors who were deciding their course of action at the Head Table. Professor McGonagall stalked over quickly. “Move,” she said, “Get back to the dormitories!” She made pushing movements with her hands.

Half their number jumped back to their feet. Harry and the fillies remained seated.

Harry looked at his Head of House. “Do you know where the Troll is? Do you know he isn’t somewhere other than the Dungeons? Where the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs are now headed to their sure deaths if he is in the dungeons? Or our deaths if he isn’t? We’re safer here, together, in this Hall with all the teachers!”

Her eyes shot wide open. She immediately turned and fired off a double cannon-blast from her wand. Then she held her wand to her throat as her voice rang through the silenced Great Hall and into the corridors outside. “ALL STUDENTS RETURN TO THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY! THE TROLL COULD BE IN THE HALLS! I REPEAT, ALL STUDENTS RETURN TO THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY!”

The uproar grew even louder as students outside the hall returned and those inside stood frozen in indecision.

“Minerva!” said the Headmaster as he came to them, “What are you doing? I said all students to their dorms!”

“And the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs dorms are in the dungeons — where the Troll is supposed to be! Unless you want to take the chance the Troll will meet them on their way, they should stay here!” She put her wand to her throat and said, “ALL HUFFLEPUFF AND SLYTHERIN STUDENTS RETURN AND STAY IN THE GREAT HALL! ALL STUDENTS TO THE GREAT HALL! All Prefects, take House attendance immediately!”

By the surprised look on the Headmaster’s face, quickly replaced with an expression of thought, he had not considered that the troll may have wandered from its original detection point.

The bedlam lasted for ten minutes before slowly settling down to a dull roar, the feast on the tables completely forgotten. By now, there were only a few professors left, gathered at the head of the Gryffindor table. The Headmaster and the others had all gone in search of the troll.

Professor Quirrell was rennervated and seemed displeased that he was the centre of a crowd, and that the Great Hall was as full of students as it had been when he had arrived. Professor Sinistra brought him up on what he had missed. He scowled and stuttered unintelligibly for several minutes before taking his seat at the Head Table.

Harry shook his head in dismay. And that wizard had wanted to go with the Headmaster and the others to confront a basilisk? Incredible. He was just like one of the Flower sisters in Ponyville. Well, maybe not. At least he had gone to warn them instead of collapsing on the spot!

Attendance, to the great relief of all, had shown that all students were present and accounted for, with everyone taking their places at their proper House tables. A portrait had been dispatched to tell the troll-hunting professors.

The portraits had finally located the troll on the second floor, almost halfway up the castle. The Gryffindors or Ravenclaws might have met it on the way to their towers! The Headmaster and the Heads of House swiftly tackled the problem.

Professor Quirrell spent the entire time staring at Harry and the three fillies, scowling. Harry wasn’t sure why, they had just acted in the safest manner possible. Besides, the professor had been unconscious, so he should be glad they had stayed. Otherwise he would have awoken by himself in an empty room. And the wandering troll might even have found him before he woke up.

He should be grateful to them! And not scowling as if they had spoiled a secret plan of his.

It wasn’t that much later when the Headmaster returned and took his place at the Head Table. “Well,” he said jovially, “We seem to have had a rather Halloween-ish scare for the evening’s entertainment, in addition to the wonderful gender-reversal prank provided by person’s unknown.” He had smiled at the twins, who promptly stood and bowed to him, and then to the room in general.

His smile had grown larger. “I don’t think such a harmless prank deserves punishment, although I’m sure Professor Snape will want a full accounting of the potion-making process. Five points to each of you.”

Said professor just scowled at them.

He gestured at the room in general. “Please, don’t let a little excitement ruin your appetite. Dig in!”

It took a few minutes, but soon the room was back to the happy and excited atmosphere it had had before the prank and Troll. Except for their DADA professor who still wore a sour expression.

Naturally, the talk of the room was how a troll could have slipped inside the wards. Why hadn’t the protective charms detected it and prevented it from doing so? Harry wondered how such a possibility had escaped Twilight’s spells?

He shook his head and returned to his treacle pudding. Bonbon, he was sure, would send the Princess a letter later tonight.

۸-~-۸

Albus stared at the muggle Friday Times newspaper, completely befuddled. There, for all the world to see, was a picture of Princess Sparkle and Prince Blueblood. With their names listed. And odd hair colouring. Standing with them were muggle Prime Minister and the Home and Foreign Secretaries. And they were announcing the opening of the Equestrian Embassy, a foreign country on the other side of a portal! And mentioned that there were other nations there that would be introduced soon, as well.

The imposing marble building behind them was listed as being in Little Whinging, Surry.

He felt his stomach drop at the implications. There could be no mistake about that. It was not a coincidence. The “portal” Princess Sparkle had mentioned and the portal in the news-story had to be one and the same.

Were they bloody barmy? This completely ignored the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy! No, it didn’t ignore it, it destroyed it! The repercussions when the rest of the world learned about wizards and witches would ruin them. The Islamic world, a quarter of the world’s population, would go into a frenzy. As would the Christians, a third of the world’s population, albeit to a lesser degree.

True, there were some societies that were more welcoming, such as the Japanese. But they made up less than two-percent of the world’s population. For all intents and purposes, all the muggle societies feared and hated wizards and witches.

This announcement would make the witch-hunts of the Middle Ages look like a friendly neighbourhood party! It would be a repeat of the wizard genocides committed by the communist Chinese and Russians, only much, much larger.

This completely destroyed the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy! This was a disaster of monumental proportions. And being in such a prestigious muggle newspaper, and on muggle radio as the article mentioned, there was no way the Ministry Obliviators could wrap this story back up as a joke or fraud — not with that enormous building in the background that anyone could visit and see. The international editions were already being delivered across the world, he knew, meaning it wasn’t even just the English Isles that received the news. It would be impossible to obliviate the entire world!

There was even the announcement of a ball on Saturday next at the new Embassy, with every foreign ambassador in England invited.

This exposed the Atlanteans to the muggles in the largest way possible. And it had happened on British soil! He needed to talk with Princess Sparkle as soon as possible. No, he needed to talk with Miss Bonbon and Miss Heartstring, first!

But one thing puzzled him. The Equestrians had stated that their appearance on the other side of the portal was different, that their native appearance was not as people but as ponies — with included pictures of the six types of ponies. There was a different man or woman standing by each to give a bit of scale. Three were Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Rarity.

That was what made him sit back and think, and re-read the article. Why would they claim to be ponies, first? And what did that mean to the Statute of Secrecy?

The major saving grace — that he could see after re-reading the article — was that the word “magic” was never used by those five, or any official quoted. Instead, they called the Equestrians’ abilities an advanced “technology.” While some of those involved referred to the re-growing of lost limbs by amputee soldiers as “like magic,” nowhere did anyone claim it was magic.

In fact, the Equestrians, and the British government, insisted it was an advanced form of technology. Just one of many technologies that they were more than willing to share — including a cure for many cancers. A fair exchange for ideas and earth technologies that they had never considered — things like the telephone and television. And they were delighted by the variety of art and culture they saw in this new world. If anything, they were more enthused about that than anything else, according to the article.

Rarity had apparently gone on a long and enthusiastic rant about how the fashions they were seeing would “. . . revolutionize Equestria.”

The Statute of Secrecy held that wizards and witches should not disclose the existence of magic. It did not say you couldn’t live among muggles, or all the muggle-born families would be in violation of it. And neither could wizards live in non-magical communities such as Godric’s Hollow or Ottery St Catchpole.

But based on the pictures in the article, it certainly was magic at work. Just from the descriptions given by the volunteers he could see the use of Skele-Gro, dittany, a blood-replenishing potion, and muscle healing spells at work.

But the medical cures were all described as being technological in basis and action. Not magic.

The volunteers also insisted that they had been participating in a test of the technology at a government facility in England. They, too, never mentioned the word magic, except that it was magic-like how the new devices and medicines had cured them. The article declared a new medical renaissance was about to sweep across the world. No longer would losing a limb be a life-altering event. Instead it would be a mere inconvenience.

A companion article to the main article waxed poetic on the mere existence of the portal. The article said the portal was giving their physicists a new understanding of the universe and how it worked. The scientists anticipated the discovery of a working star-drive engine in the next ten years. And the possibility of instantaneous travel to a star with a portal once the starship arrived at its destination. “The universe is at our fingertips!” the article declared.

There was a philosophy article that dealt with the ramifications of another intelligent race out in space. What it meant that man was not alone. And how that one simple fact might affect different religions on the planet, especially those that claimed man as the favourite of their god. After all, here were aliens who clearly were superior in many ways to men. And inferior in others — no hands in their native world!

There were many quotes from major leaders of the major religions. Complicating the issue was that the aliens professed to know of gods, but did not worship them. That was a major revelation. Some saw it as an opportunity, others as blasphemy.

But by presenting themselves as ponies, they defused the whole problem with the various religions telling their followers to abhor magical humans. Any muggle seeing a pony wielding magic would not think to look for a wizard or witch. And they blamed their appearance on the portal. They claimed it changed them when they went through to look like humans, to better blend in with the majority intelligent species on Earth. And provided pictures from their native world to prove it.

But Albus was focused on the magical aspect. How would the wizards and witches perceive this?

Perhaps he had time to begin damage control. He could only hope so.

The English Ministry of Magic wasn’t the sharpest of tools at the best of times. They wouldn’t notice this announcement, if ever, until someone brought it to their attention. Forcefully. Such as the ICW sending a delegation demanding action about this grievous blow to the Statute of Secrecy! And publicly reprimanding England, with a suitable punishment to follow.

However, as the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, he could stall any such actions for a time. They had never had to contemplate such a massive display of magic — only the Yankees in twenty-six had ever come even close to this degree of disclosure. That had been because of an obscurial. And they had been saved by a fortuitous intervention of a thunderbird and someone who could control it.

He just had to figure out how to defuse the situation without jeopardizing his position. He needed an explanation to protect England.

The Unspeakables in the Ministry probably knew, but what they would do was uncertain at the best of times. Most were too wrapped up in their own research to care about the outside world. To most of them, the Ministry was just a building they had to walk through to get to work. Being exposed to the muggles wasn’t something that was usually their concern — until the Minister brought them into it.

But the longer he thought on the matter, the better the situation became. In fact, as he considered it, it was quite clever of the Atlanteans. They claimed to be from another world — as if there was really another world that supported life! And the gullible muggles had accepted that explanation.

The wizards had known that there was no life beyond this planet for several centuries. The wizards had used powerful amplification spells on their telescopes to examine all the nearby planets. They had been able to detect magic on all of them, but had seen nothing that indicated life. Even scrying for life on the other planets had failed to detect anything larger than a krill. Anything smaller they were not interested in.

And outside of the solar system? Nothing. No signs of anything. It was possible that the great distances involved made such detection impossible, but their best wizards had decided that wasn’t likely. They had, after all, found planets around the binary Alpha Centauri and then Proxima Centauri, as well as that dim star the muggles had named Bernard’s Star. But nothing living. Or, at least, what the wizards called life.

The local planets, he knew, had all been the recipient of muggle machines that were looking for life. If there had been a civilization of any kind the muggles would already have discovered it. And their scientists were convinced that other planets — not just inhabitable planets, but planets at all — were vanishingly rare. So the muggles, too, knew there wasn’t any other life-form out there.

But the Equestrians claimed their portal was to another world, distance to this one unknown. If they limited access to Atlantis, as they appeared to be doing, then no one would see the moon and discover their deception. Even allowing others through the portal would work as long as they limited it to times when the moon was not visible. And with a little magic on the muggles, it would be quite easy to prevent them from even noticing the moon when it was visible.

Now that he considered it, they could even charm the visitor to think the moon they saw was different than the one in the sky on Earth, as were the constellations. It wouldn’t even be that difficult to develop such a spell. Just an illusion that only the spell recipient could see. A spell that would warp the muggle’s perception of the night sky. An official at the port could routinely cast the spell on every visitor under the guise examining their passports.

And if they ensured that every visitor to Equestria only saw them in their pony animagus form, they could keep up the charade that it was their normal form. And, as Atlanteans appeared to revere Poseidon, that wouldn’t be that difficult. After all, even if they didn’t overtly worship him, they did acknowledge his influence. Why else would they use those pony and horse terms for everything?

Yes, as long as they claimed to be from another world they could evade the rules of the Statute — he had to snort at the gullibility of the muggles. The Equestrians would be safe if they didn’t do anything blatantly magical. No hexing or cursing someone, or transfiguring or conjuring something. All they had do was pretend what they did was “technology.”

After all, they had never signed the Statute. They hadn’t even known of its existence until Minerva had told them about it. That was a technicality, but it was still true.

And, based on what he read in the newspaper, the Equestrians were being scrupulous about labelling everything they did as technology, not magic. The article had even quoted a famous muggle writer, Arthur C. Clarke, who had said, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” The Prime Minister had readily agreed with that quote. And insisted that what the Equestrians were showing were technological marvels.

In short, the Atlanteans were hiding magic in plain sight.

And calling it technology.

And the muggles believed them.

Which, technically, meant the Equestrians were not breaking the Statute

He sighed deeply and stroked his beard.

The International Confederation of Wizards might complain that the English Wizards had done nothing to prevent the Equestrians from making their announcement. But Albus could, quite reasonably, point out that it would be impossible for a country the size of the British Isles to prevent a continent-sized country, as Atlantis was, from doing anything they wanted.

In appearance, the situation was similar to Sparta and the Persians at Thermopylae. There was only the one portal, and it was in Little Whinging. Access was extremely limited. The wizards, in theory, could box in the Equestrians.

The Equestrian’s, however, could simply move their portal to a new location, such as France, Germany, or the Russian wilderness, he could point out. Theoretically, it should be possible. Then they could move thousands of fighters through it before the wizards knew where they were. And it would be impossible to stop the invasion.

If they were interested in invading, which he knew they weren’t.

At least this way the wizards knew where the portal was.

The article did not say that the other countries mentioned were inhabited by intelligent creatures that mirrored those from Greek mythology.

The link to Greece and ancient history would ruin their strategy. After all, if they were from another world, how did they explain so many coincidences with Greek legends and history? The fact was, they could not. The muggles would see through their ruse immediately.

The language compatibility, on the other hand, they could explain as an artefact induced by the portal, or a special translation technology.

He wondered if they had demonstrated either apparition or levitation to the Prime Minister, and called them teleportation and telekinesis. That particular muggle, the Prime Minister, knew the truth about magic. Had the Equestrians talked about magic at all? Or had they kept him in the dark and promoted the “technology” as just that, technology?

And if that important muggle agreed that what they did was not magic, could Albus use that argument to persuade the ICW to do nothing?

It would be quite amusing if the Atlanteans were building up an entire façade of having technological wonders and hiding magic completely. By providing those medical cures to the muggles, and making the silly claim that it was all technology, they were distracting the muggles from magic while doing magic.

It was just like a muggle stage magician, doing things in plain sight while distracting their audience so the audience never noticed what else the magician was doing. He knew several had been investigated by the Obliviators to make sure they were not wizards breaking the Statute of Secrecy. Every trick had to have a proper explanation for the muggles — or close enough to not matter. That way a clever muggle wouldn’t be able to deduce the existence of real magic.

In fact, reading the article a third time, from the view point of someone who didn’t know about the Atlanteans or magic, he noticed the Equestrians had done and said nothing to indicate that they were not simply advanced muggles!

The Atlanteans were actually supporting the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy by pretending to be merely very technologically advanced muggles, he realized. Even the wizards and witches who saw the article would not suspect the Equestrians were not who they said they were — aliens. The only ones to know the truth were the wizards and witches who had seen either Princess Sparkle or Prince Blueblood. Most of whom were now at Hogwarts!

۸-_-۸

85 — Wand-ering

Albus smiled to himself. Everyone knew that the Equestrians’ ability to change to ponies was because they were animagi. He did have to wonder, though, if they had enough Equestrians who were pony animagi to pull off this deception. Unless they all had the same form? Such a thing was unheard of among the wizards and witches, whose forms were almost random.

Perhaps that Discord wizard was assisting them? For all they appeared to fear him, Miss Rarity had said they were friends with him. And that wizard had said he liked ponies and not other animals — was that why they decided to tell the muggles they were ponies on the other side of the portal? He frowned. Poseidon presided over horses and water. Could this Discord be Poseidon by a new name? Could he have agreed to help them in their deception? Or was he the reason they all had pony animagi forms in the first place? Albus decided he needed to think on that a bit more.

All of the ponies, except Molly, being at Hogwarts meant he could control the flow of information. It wouldn’t last that long once the out-of-Hogwarts rumour mill got going, but until then it would give him time to manage the situation to benefit everyone.

The ICW would not like that the Atlantean wizards and witches were masquerading as muggles on such a large scale. On the other hand, the Statute of Secrecy required wizards and witches to act like muggles in a muggle-controlled area. Which was exactly what the Atlanteans were doing. Acting like muggles.

Yes, they were doing magical things in plain sight, but the muggles all thought it was an advanced technology by ponies, not magic. Nor a magic trick. Which, again, still kept the fact of magic a secret.

It was genius! An incredibly bold way to interact with muggles while still maintaining their lives as wizards and witches.

Dumbledore had to shake his head in admiration of their ploy. He was sure that the Unspeakables in the Ministry could just as easily have erected a portal and then claimed to be “aliens.” The muggles would never have guessed the truth.

Of course, there had never been a need or an excuse to do that. But it was an amusing thought. It would be one way to introduce the muggle world to wizards and witches without setting off massive genocidal attacks — claim to be from another world!

But why? To what purpose did the Equestrians want to interact with the muggles? Why did they want telephones? Floo-travel was easily superior to them for convenience. Plus, it had the advantage that when you made contact with someone, stepping through to be there in person was immediate. Or you could use apparition! Just pop over, walk up to their doors, and knock. No fuss at all.

And the televisions? He just didn’t see the point of tiny screens showing plays. The simplistic and short muggle movie plays he had seen as a young man simply could not match real-life plays. Especially the wizarding plays with their wonderful magical backgrounds and characters.

No, plays were clearly superior to those motion picture things. There was just so much more audience involvement in plays. The advertising he saw in the newspapers for movies were just as obvious exaggerations.

And while he did understand wanting to see plays and read books in the muggle world, the wizarding books and plays were always so much better — Shakespeare, for example. He was unaware of any muggle writers who could match the great bard.

In any case, he needed to meet with the Minister as soon as possible. And then with the secretary of the ICW. He wanted to make sure the other nations heard his version of the situation before they discovered the truth and formed their own conclusions.

First, though, he needed to talk with Miss Bonbon and Miss Heartstring to find out what they knew. And perhaps a few words with Harry and his Equestrian friends were in order, too.

He looked at the map while saying their names. They were still in their rooms. He would send a house-elf.

۸-~-۸

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” the Headmaster said as the two Equestrians entered his office.

“It’s our pleasure,” said Miss Bonbon.

“It’s not as if we have any urgent appointments,” added Miss Heartstrings, giggling.

“That is true, I suppose,” replied Albus, his eyes twinkling in amusement. It was such a pleasure talking with the Equestrians.

They were always so fresh and open, without hidden agendas. Like children in many ways, they took such delight in the simplest things, and were always capable of expressing themselves without reservation. He envied them their naiveté.

They both grinned at him as they sat down.

First, a little small talk to get them to relax before he sprang the Embassy problem on them. “Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick are quite impressed with your progress in their subjects.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’ve managed to master the First and Second Year books in Charms and Transfigurations in just a month. At the rate you’re going, you should be ready for your OWLs in them at Christmas. Very well done, ladies, very well done, indeed!”

The two blushed at his praise.

“And then all you need to do are your History, Potions, Astronomy, Herbology, and Defence Against the Dark Arts OWLs. Those are the core units and shouldn’t cause you any trouble, based on how quickly you’re managing the other two.”

They grinned happily.

“How are things going otherwise?

Their grins faded and they traded tense glances, then Miss Heartstrings squirmed slightly in her seat as she said, “Potions is much more difficult than we expected. We’ve watched a few classes by Professor Snape, and asked him for pointers, and I must say, we are not impressed with his methods.”

“Professor Snape is a Master of Potions, and he has my every confidence,” the Headmaster said, his forehead wrinkling slightly as he stroked his beard. This was not going the way he wanted. He thought the changes he and the House Heads had implemented were working quite well.

The two exchanged another look with each other. Miss Heartstrings, turned back to him. “That has nothing to do with his skills at potioneering, however. We’re talking about his skills at teaching students how to deal with potentially dangerous materials. He is very cavalier about it. Disturbingly so. We’ve watched his classes and he has taught the students almost nothing about safety. For example, you’re aware of Sweetie Belle’s ‘accidents’ in her class?”

She barely waited for his affirmative nod.

“She is not the only one affected, the entire class is involved, yet he does not set up shields, he does not set up protections, he does nothing to protect the students beforehand. Everything he does is in reaction to what happens. And his version of teaching is simply putting instructions on a wall and telling everyone to get to work. There is no question and answer period. That is not teaching, that is nothing more than cooking from a cookbook. The students might as well be at home and not in a class.”

Miss Bonbon was nodding in agreement.

Albus leaned forward, “He has taught them the bubble-head charm and they already know the shield charm. What more should he do?”

“Teach them the difference between slicing, dicing, and mashing, for one,” Miss Bonbon immediately replied.

“And why those matter,” added Miss Heartstrings.

“Not to mention, do you really expect First Year students to master a Sixth Year charm in only a day? And make it last the entire class? And shields are not taught until Second Year.” Miss Bonbon shook her head before continuing.

“Expecting First Year students to master these before their class even starts is unconscionable. Plus, he only taught the bubble-head charm to the Gryffindor/Slytherin class, leaving the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws out completely. How do you consider that to be adequate? Are only the Gryffindors and Slytherins deserving of protection?

“What has HE done to protect his students?” asked Miss Heartstrings.

“And that brings up another problem, his attitude towards the other houses varies by class, the only consistency is that he favours his Slytherins and degrades the other houses.”

“And he seems to enjoy baiting the students. He is biased to his own House students, allowing them leeway he does not show to others. He even took points from one student for breathing loudly! Those are not the actions of a Master of Teaching,” Miss Bonbon said firmly.

“If you do not know these things, then you are failing at your job as Headmaster. You are not providing due oversight to your Professors,” added Miss Heartstrings.

Albus was temporarily nonplussed. He was not used to receiving criticisms of Hogwarts. The Equestrians’ naiveté meant they spoke their minds. However, he knew it wasn’t personal, they had no agenda he could perceive. They were telling him what they thought was wrong, just as Princess Sparkle had done.

“If he were the only example of teaching we saw, we would immediately withdraw Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Harry from Hogwarts as a substandard learning environment,” Miss Bonbon continued.

“Your other Professors, however, are clearly excellent at their jobs. We have no complaints with them,” said Miss Heartstrings.

“Our only other serious complaint,” Miss Bonbon said, “is that you are obviously understaffed. Professor Minerva, for example is not only the teacher of Transfigurations, but also the Head of Gryffindor, and the Deputy Headmistress. Each one of those three is a full-time job, yet you expect her to do all three? For a school of this size? And the other House Heads are also supposed to be full-time teachers, as well?” She shook her head.

Miss Heartstrings took up the criticism. “And you, yourself, have three full-time jobs: Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Headmaster of Hogwarts! That means Deputy Headmistress McGonagall has to pick up the things you do not have time for, which puts even more pressure on her time. And reduces the amount of time she can devote to the students.”

Lyra continued, “Being a teacher of Transfigurations means she cannot help any Gryffindor student who needs her assistance because the Professor is in class and not available as Head of House. If something comes up with a Gryffindor that needs her immediate attention, then she must abandon her class. That results in substandard teaching. Or she makes the decision that the problem can wait until later and continues her class.

“This means problems that need to handled now must be put off until later. If they are handled at all and not simply ignored. House Prefects do help manage the House, but they are not adults! And they, too, are under stress as they must manage their studies as well as their duties. Plus, they are automatically biased to their friends and against those they dislike.”

Both Equestrians were leaning forward earnestly.

He leaned back to consider things. Despite the sting of having them criticize him, the problems they mentioned were true. Simply saying that was the way they had been doing things at Hogwarts wasn’t sufficient. Although shuffling duties around to Seventh Year students had helped the House Head’s time constraints to some degree.

It did look bad, he had to concede.

He would need to talk to all of his professors to see what they thought. The examination of the things in the Room of Requirement was taking time from the professors’ already busy schedules, even with the assistance of the Seventh Years.

They were, however, starting to see some additional income from the repaired treasures they had uncovered. The school brooms were in the process of being replaced, and other upgrades were being planned. Additional professors, however, would have to come from an increase in the budget from the Ministry.

That would be a tough argument to make to the Cornelius.

Perhaps if he stressed to the Board of Governors that the House Heads were being over-stretched? If he convinced them, then they could take care of convincing the Wizengamot and he wouldn’t have to put as much pressure on the Minister.

“I will see what we can do to correct the problems you’ve noticed,” he said, finally. “I will have a meeting with Professor Snape this afternoon, after classes, and I will discuss a few things with him. And I will discuss the other problems you have mentioned with the professors to see if we can arrive at a better situation.”

He did not want the Atlanteans becoming disenchanted with Hogwarts. If they should take their charges away to Beauxbatons it would be an incredibly public blow to Hogwarts’ and England’s prestige. And his.

Considering the public’s reaction to news about Hogwarts brought him back to the subject of this meeting, the Equestrian muggle Embassy.

He sighed and smiled gently, stroking his beard lightly. “I wonder if you can help me with this.” He swished his wand and the newspaper lifted up so they could easily see the front page, and the article of his interest.

He gave them a few moments to read the headline before floating the paper into their hands. It took them only a short time to read the article.

Their big smiles he took to mean that the announcement was not unexpected.

After a moment, Miss Bonbon looked back at him and tilted her head in query. “And what did you want us to tell you?”

“This is a huge breech of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Why did the Princesses do it?” He said quietly.

At first the two of them were surprised, exchanging startled glances. Miss Bonbon turned back to him and shook her head firmly. “No, it’s not. Everything mentioned in the article is technology, as far as the non-magicals are concerned, not magic. Revealing the portal does not reveal magic. Even their scientists,” she opened the newspaper and pointed to an article referenced in the main story, “think it is a technological wonder. We are from a foreign planet, not from Earth, and they can plainly see that. Surely you know that as well?” She paused and studied him.

He sighed. Yes, the article did leave him with that impression. But he knew the truth. And so would any wizard or witch who had met the Equestrians and saw this story.

“The Princesses have told us to withhold information about magic,” She continued, “from the non-magicals because they worry about a negative backlash against us. Based on how the non-magicals have reacted in the past, and still do react in some places, they fear we could come to harm. So everything we reveal is going to be coached in terms of technology and knowledge,” she explained.

“Only someone who has magic and has met the Prince or Princess, or heard about the portal, would realize magic was involved. Both the non-magicals and magicals, without that clue, will not realize we can do magic. They will see the portal and accept that we are aliens from another world. They will see what they want to see, both magicals and non-magicals.” Miss Bonbon concluded.

“We believe that by showing them our pony forms in Equestria, and emphasizing we are aliens, they will not make the connection that there are wizards and witches already here.”

He just stroked his beard as he considered what to do. Clearly they had known of the Embassy operation for quite some time. And they had prepared their arguments in advance. It made him somewhat upset that something of this much import could be created without his input or knowledge.

Perhaps the Equestrians were not as naïve as he had thought.

“Do Harry and the young three witches know about this Embassy?” he asked.

Miss Bonbon shrugged. “Yes. They all know we are setting up an Embassy. Harry Potter was very helpful in getting us a solicitor and preparing us with meeting the non-magicals.”

He stared at her. “Why did none of you notify me of this?”

She tilted her head questioningly, “Why should we? Do the Americans, French, or Indians notify you of anything they plan to do with the non-magicals?”

“But you are in England, not America, France, or India.”

“You will have to ask Princess Twilight, for her reasoning, then. We were not a party to that decision.” She delicately frowned. “I would guess that it was because we had to protect the portal from accidental discovery. An Embassy means no one can access it without first asking us permission. So we bought all the land around the portal and approached the British government.”

“You could have hidden it with muggle-repelling charms, and then added shielding charms to warn you should anyone approach it.”

“My understanding of the situation is that the Princesses had already approached the non-magicals and started on the Embassy before we knew such spells existed. Or, at least, as you use them. And then it was too late to change our approach.”

He sighed disappointedly. It was his fault, he realized. Minerva had told them about the Statute of Secrecy, he knew. As a result, he had assumed they knew all about it. He had expected them to act in secret, as did every other member of the ICW. He had thought they would abide by the Statute’s rules, even though they had never heard of it, nor had to follow it before. He hadn’t considered that they had already started talking with the muggles.

He really could not blame them for acting in the way they were used to acting in Atlantis.

He needed to talk with Princess Twilight about just what the Equestrians were planning to do with the non-magicals. And his conversations with both Minister Fudge and the ICW were going to be very difficult.

In the meantime he would notify the ICW that something important was happening in muggle England. And the Unspeakable Bode that the Atlanteans were apparently contacting the muggles, while still keeping to the original intent of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy — do not reveal magic to the muggles.

۸-_-۸

“Sit quietly with your eyes closed,” said Bright Star to Green Hoof, an earth pony. “Hold your hoof over the table while I hoof-spin it once. Let me know if you feel a pull. Don’t move until I tell you that I’ve spun it once. Then you can drop your hoof when it seems to call to you the most.”

Green Hoof nodded nervously. He’d been outside the building, tending one of the trees when the two unicorns had marched up to him and asked if he would help them with a test — well, actually ordered him. Nothing harmful, they had assured him. And it should only take a few minutes. It would not prevent him from enjoying Nightmare Night festivities when they started that evening.

The round metal table in front of him had twenty slabs of wood on it, each as wide as his hooves, with a short space between them.

“Just relax and hold your hoof loosely.”

He nodded again, and closed his eyes.

Top Marks watched from one side, curious and hopeful that this would work. The human wand-maker, Ollivander, had finally given his approval on their hoof-made wands, which they had piled into a box in the corner of the room.

This was their first try at a custom wand.

It was on the third rotation that Green Hoof dropped his hoof on a piece of wood. It was rosewood, Top Marks saw.

The two ponies moved to the next table as the professor made notes and pulled out the box of prospective Rosewood wands.

“This is the same,” said Bright Star, “Just sit and relax. Hold your hoof over the table while I spin it.”

This table had twenty depressions, each filled with want looked like hairs, feathers, scales, and gem dust. One depression had one of Top Marks’ tail hairs in it.

His hoof dropped on a feather-filled section.

It took both Top Marks and Bright Star to fill the third table with different lengths of feathers and rosewood. They had discovered, through trial and error, that there was a definite correlation between the length of a wand and its core. Once that was known, it was easy to make sure each pair in the depression on the table were correctly in tune with each other. It took only a few moments to complete pairing them.

For a third time, Green Hoof sat at a table as Bright Star slowly pun it by hoof. He was surprised to note that there was a difference between this table and the other two. While the first two tables’ selections had had a faint, almost undetectable draw to them, the pull from each of the depressions on the third was much stronger and easier to discern, he told the two researchers.

This time it took four turns before he could tell that the pair under his hoof felt “stronger” than the rest.

Bright Star quickly snatched the two items and went to a fourth, smaller square table.

Green hoof sat where he was. If the two unicorns wanted him to know something, they would tell him. In a short time, she cantered back to him, the feather no longer in sight. She carefully, on her back, carried a long, thin box filled with cloth that held the piece of rosewood he had chosen.

She slid the box onto the round table. “Pick up the wand,” she ordered.

Shrugging, he did as he was told, tilting the box so the wand rolled out, then “grasping” it in his mouth by the slightly thicker end. He held it a moment and stared at her, perplexed. Later he would say he felt a warmth from the wand, as if from a friend giving him a hug.

“Give it swish,” Bright Star urged eagerly.

He did as instructed — and dropped the wand in surprise as sparks shot from it across the table.

Bright Star and Top Marks danced in place.

“Pick it up, pick it up!” chanted Bright Star breathlessly.

He looked at the wand on the ground, then her, and then carefully, as if he expected to get a shock, picked it up. Nothing happened. He held it up again, and gave a big swing. Sparks again cascaded across the room.

Again the two unicorns danced happily in place, then suddenly lunged against him and hugged him.

“It worked! It worked!” they both crowed in his ears as they danced in a circle with him in the middle, still hugging.

Bright Star let go and stepped back, as did Top Marks. Eyes wide in excitement, Bright Star said, “Hold the wand up and say lumos!”

Green Hoof almost dropped the wand a second time as the end lit up in a brief flash of light.

Smiling so far it had to have hurt, Bright Star said, “Congratulations, Green Hoof, you’re the first earth pony ever to cast magic with a wand in Equestria!”

He dropped the wand. And then his jaw. And then passed out.

They woke Green Hoof up, still stunned at the achievement. Bright Star and Top Marks immediately tested if the sticking charm would interfere when they used it to hold the wand to his hoof. It didn’t. Then they checked if there was a difference in which hoof he held the wand. There wasn’t. He could even get the lumos to work with his hind hooves! Then they started practicing different spells.

The researchers grabbed the wizards’ First Year Spell book and started working their way through it with Green Hoof. He could do all the simple spells. Trying to cast the spells following the directions in the book made him dizzy when he used his mouth to hold the wand, but they did work just as well as when he held the wand with his hoof.

They did discover that when he used a wand to channel magic, then anything related to his earth pony skills were much more powerful than they were normally.

It was considered, by everyone present, to be a grand achievement. And finding the correct wand took only a few minutes instead of a quarter-of-an-hour, or more, as Ollivander usually did.

They started celebrating at the Ponyville tavern when they went to dinner, shortly before the Nightmare Night festivities were scheduled to start. By the time they finally made it back to their rooms, very late at night and very drunk, all of Ponyville knew of their success — Green Hoof, and probably all other earth ponies and all pegasi could wield magic like unicorns. Numerous demonstrations and experiments in the tavern had proven it. One of the chairs was still stuck to the ceiling.

It was, everypony agreed, an eventful and momentous Nightmare Night. One that would go down in history. Not that Green Hoof and the two unicorns would remember it all that much.

By noon the next day the news had reached Canterlot. That evening, a horde of reporters had descended on Ponyville. And the portal was now front-page news.

۸-_-۸

87 — Plots and Plans

Castor smiled broadly. “One set I’m sure every emergency technician will want are the stasis runes. Those will also interest the military,” he said, nodding to the Foreign Secretary. “You paint them on someone’s chest and their bodily functions slow to almost nothing.” His grin got bigger. “No more losing patients at the scene of an accident or on the way to a hospital. If you get that painted on fast enough, you can even stop an arterial accident or heart attack victim from dying, even if it takes you an hour to get them to a hospital. Everything just stops!

“Our lead scientists think we can disguise the stasis runes as part of a device that snaps together to activate when you strap it on someone. A mild sticking charm keeps it in contact until it is removed. Doing it that way will, hopefully, adequately disguise the spell as something technological.”

He cleared his throat. “This week, we tried treating our first set of amputees at a local hospital in Little Whinging. The medicines, unfortunately, only work on those with inherent . . . talent. However, the technology,” by which he meant runes and spells, as they all knew, “does work, albeit slower than on the other side of the portal. The difference doesn’t yet seem to have a set pattern. That is under investigation.”

He continued with, “It seems that, in Equestria, there is sufficient ambient energy to power the medicines without relying on the subject, but on this side there is not. However, some individuals have tiny amounts of it to assist the medicines. Not enough to register even as squibs, though.

“Twilight has promised to look into that and thinks she might be able to energize small gems to power the medicines on this side. The patient would either swallow them with the medicine or wear them near the wound or affected area, like the stasis devices. She isn’t sure, but she’s confident something can be done.

“Between re-growing lost limbs, these runes, and the cures they seem to have, most hospitals and rehabilitation facilities can be reduced to half-size or less. And the beds freed up faster per incident.

“About the only thing the princess hasn’t mentioned is a cure for old-age!”

The Home Secretary was extremely pleased. “This will be quite the budget reducer!” he exclaimed happily during their discussions on what Castor had just told them.

Sir Walker interrupted as he removed a picture from one of the folders in his briefcase and took out several pictures. “Is this anything we need to be concerned about?”

The pictures showed a series of small fires of an acre or so in size beside an old castle, and a line of destruction that connected them. Farther away from the new fire-damaged area was the older one that was slowly recovering from when Princess Luna had captured the basilisk. (Twilight had confessed what had happened when Castor had presented her with the photo of the area.)

“I don’t think so,” Castor said uncertainly. “I’ll show this to Twilight and see if she knows anything about it.”

The Foreign Secretary, the Right Honourable Douglas Hurd nodded and then said, “The response to the announcement of the Equestrian Embassy is still ongoing. After the initial confusion — quite a number of media outlets accused us of orchestrating this as a Halloween prank — the foreign governments are mostly stunned at the moment.

“Most are taking this one step at time, although there is a bit of an uproar among the more extreme groups. They seem to be split between those accusing us of fraud and those accusing us of facilitating an invasion. Most of whom are our enemies.

“Our allies are a bit miffed that they have been held in the dark so long. They said they should have been consulted immediately — especially the Yanks.” They all laughed at that. “However, in private, they have admitted that they would have done the same thing, so it isn’t the disaster it could have been.”

Sir McColl put in, “Yes, the local CIA chief was very put-out that none of his people ever caught wind of the portal. I was sure one of our more excitable scientists would let slip what they were working on, but it never happened.” He leaned back, smiling. “It appears that the rapid reveal released the scientists from withholding publishing papers and eliminated any resentment before it could build up.”

Hurd continued, “The communists, both Russian and Chinese, are outraged that they hadn’t been told of the portal much sooner. They have, as you know, very vocally decried our imperialistic high-handedness at failing to inform them of such a momentous event — once they stopped accusing us of promulgating a farce on the world. They are demanding immediate access. They, of course, refuse to admit they would have done the same thing in our position.” He made a sour expression. “With the way things are going in the Soviet Union right now, I suspect all of their noise is merely an attempt by certain bureaucrats to hang onto their positions.”

Sir McColl again spoke up, “The Chinese are quite upset with their agents, I’ve heard. There have been more than a few demotions and rearrangements in their department’s structure.” He grinned. “A few misleading ‘leaks’ worked quite well at keeping them in the fog.”

The Foreign Secretary picked up the conversation. “Still, both groups eagerly await trade talks with the Equestrians, and have expressed their Demand that we don’t interfere. We have passed our concerns on to the Equestrians.

“Ambassador Blueblood has informed me that his schedule for the next month is quite full, already. Fortunately, our early encouragement and acceptance of everything has led to Ambassador Blueblood giving me his assurances that the exact nature of the technology and its power supply are not going to be mentioned to any other government in the near future. And the trade will be limited to non-technology items.”

He grinned, “I imagine the Chinese and Russians are going to be quite confused at the Equestrians’ focus on their art, music, and theatre and not on their technical prowess.”

He took a deep breath. “How the wizards are reacting to all this, I don’t know. I’m not even sure they have discovered it yet. The Daily Prophet hasn’t mentioned it at all. So, either they don’t know, or they don’t care.”

“None of the ‘suspect’ portraits have reacted yet,” said the Prime Minister. “Mine kept reappearing in my office from storage, but nothing was ever said to me about our removing and restoring the paintings, elsewhere, so I don’t think they suspect we identified their spying network. Now that we’ve placed them in semi-public areas where people know to keep their mouths shut, we shouldn’t have to worry about the wizards picking up conversations they shouldn’t.” He sighed, “In any case, any conversations regarding the Equestrians are either in cleared meeting rooms or while I’m traveling. To help distract the wizards there are several meeting rooms were non-Equestrian conversations are allowed.

“And with regular sweeps by ‘Special Technology’ experts, we won’t have to worry about them sneaking in something in the future.”

“I expect to see an increase in foreign activity, regardless of the magicals,” said Sir Walker. “There are going to be an awful lot of people interested in the Equestrians. I’ve ordered the military into a more obvious presence around their Embassy to forestall any violence.”

Their discussions ran until late that night.

۸-_-۸

Albus carefully set his teacup down. “Thank you for meeting with me, today, Cornelius.” He glanced around the comfortable sitting room. Mrs. Fudge had already left the room.

“Not at all, Albus,” Fudge said pompously. “I’m always available to someone of your stature.” He leaned forward in his chair, then said, “It must be very important for you to ask to meet here on Sunday instead of my office on Monday.” He was lounging in a bright green morning coat with neat white shirt and darker green trousers. He wasn’t dressed for work, but neither was he dressed inappropriately to receive company.

The Minister was trying to give the appearance of confidence, but his inability to sit still gave away his nervousness. The Headmaster almost never visited him at his home. It both flattered and worried him.

Albus gave him a gentle smile and stroked his beard as he sat back in his chair. “Yes. Indeed.” He gazed calmly at the wizard. “I don’t know how much you pay attention to the muggle world . . . .”

The portly little wizard waved a hand negligently. “Unless it concerns us, not much at all.” He tried to shrug casually, “No more than any other wizard would do in my position.”

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. “Indirectly, then, something of great import to wizards and witches has occurred in the muggle world.”

Cornelius raised his eyebrows.

“The muggles claim to have made contact with an alien race.”

The Minister for Magic stared at him, then dismissively said, “Impossible! We know there’s no life beyond Earth!”

Dumbledore nodded, “Yes, I know. Nonetheless, the muggles insist that they have been contacted by aliens . . . through a portal.”

Cornelius frowned at him. “A portal?”

“Yes, they claim that the aliens, who look like normal muggles except with outrageous hair colours, discovered a portal to our world and came through it to meet them.”

The Minister was staring at him in disbelief.

“And that their appearance as muggles is strictly because of the portal. They claim their normal form is that of a pony. They even allowed muggles through the portal so they could take pictures. Which look as if they were taken in England.” Dumbledore had spent quite some time poring over the pictures, examining what details he could eke out from the numerous articles he had managed to find Friday and Saturday.

Most of the pictures had been of the area around the portal, with explanations for the crystal buildings around them. A few had been of the apple farm and forest just beyond. And while no other animals had been in the pictures, the pictures looked as if they could have been made almost anywhere on Earth.

Albus reached into a robe pocket and pulled out the newspaper. It was folded to display the photos of the aliens and the forest in the background. “They call their native world Equus. And themselves Equestrians.”

As the portly wizard stared at the colour photographs, Albus added, “They explain that they used their technology to learn to speak, read, and write English. Which, as a result, substitutes words in their language for English equivalents. Thus it translates their words from what they are to a close English equivalent in context, not literally.” He knew from his studies that all primitive muggles called themselves “the people” in their own language, which outsiders always assumed were their tribal names. And anyone not of the “people” were not people, by definition. It was all semantics.

Cornelius finally looked up and, somewhat scared, asked, “Is this real?”

“Quite real, according to the muggles.” He leaned back. “The muggles have even allowed the ‘aliens’ to build an official Embassy to establish trade relations. According to the article, they’ve already shared some technology with the muggles and shown them advances in medicine that the muggles are calling ‘almost like magic.’” He nodded towards the newspaper the Minister still held loosely.

Cornelius looked up sharply at that last word.

Albus slowly nodded his head. “But the aliens are very carefully saying it is technology, just far in advance of what the muggles currently understand. The muggles even include a quote in that newspaper that ‘any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’”

For a long time Cornelius stared at the Headmaster, his brow deeply furrowed. “Are they really from another world? It’s not a hoax or a trick?”

Albus smiled, “That is the million galleon question.” He stroked his beard. “From the muggles’ perspective, the aliens might actually be from another dimension and not from space, as they claim.” he waved a hand over his head. “I read that in one article I read yesterday,” he said smirking ever so slightly. “The truth of the matter is a bit more complicated. No. I don’t believe they are from another world or dimension. If you turn the newspaper to the front page, you’ll see what I mean.

The Minister did as requested and gasped. “Those are the Atlanteans!” He stared at the Headmaster in shock.

“Yes, they are.”

“But they’re breaking the Statue of Secrecy!” he almost shouted.

“No. They are not.”

Cornelius leaned back in his chair, gobsmacked.

“If you read the article closely, you’ll see that they always refer to doing things with their technology. They always claim to be from another world. They use their animagi forms on the other side of the portal and claim that is their normal form. They blame the portal for their change to muggle.

“In other words, if you didn’t know about magic, you would take them at their word — that they are aliens. And being aliens, if they do something the muggles don’t understand, the aliens can claim it is merely their technology.

“They are, in truth, doing a very good job of disguising themselves.” He sighed. “It is a trick that could only have worked recently. Prior to Grindelwald, the muggles would have simply called it magic. But now? With so many inventions by muggles that mimic magical items? They can easily pull it off.”

Still befuddled, the Minister said, “But, why? What could the muggles possibly have that would interest a wizard or witch?”

Albus shrugged and stroked his beard. “Well, as you no doubt know, they don’t seem to have muggles in their homeland. And some of the inventions the muggles have are very interesting to them. Like a child with a new toy, they want to know everything there is to know about the muggles.”

Fudge gave him an incredulous look.

Albus shook his head slowly, “I do not understand it, myself.” He sighed. “The Atlanteans are very interested in some of the tricks the muggles have come up with, such as the telephone, television, movies, aeroplanes, and other silly such things.”

Fudge nodded uncertainly.

The Headmaster leaned forward. “While they appear to have violated the Statute of Secrecy, they haven’t. And we need to come up with a strategy to explain that to wizards and the ICW without making a hash of it. Or making it look like the Equestrians have fooled us.”

“What should we do?” asked the Minister, “What should we do?” He began wringing his hands worriedly.

Albus explained.

۸-~-۸

It was the following Friday and the cohort was finally free of detentions. To say they were looking forward to an afternoon and weekend outside was an understatement.

Neville had managed to complete the potions’ assignment today without a melted cauldron, Harry was happy to see. The potion colour was red instead of pink and smelled vaguely like bacon instead of old socks. The Gryffindor’s gleeful acceptance of Dreadful instead of Troll indicated his pleasure at the improvement.

Professor Snape gave Sweetie Belle a Dreadful on the grounds she hadn’t blown up the room or otherwise transformed the students into new and unusual forms, even if her potion was blue and smelled like bananas.

Naturally, Hermione and Apple Bloom received Acceptables. Those two had quickly assumed head-of-class in their potions’ ability.

Harry and the Gryffindors were relieved because, as Ron put it, “We dodged a spell on that one! At least now we don’t have to worry that you’ll miss our Quidditch match tomorrow.” He glowered at the Slytherins, their scheduled opponents.

The Slytherins were glad not to be subjected to yet another potions’ class mishap. However, they were disappointed that the Gryffindors were not disadvantaged for tomorrow’s game. Having their rival lose their Seeker would have guaranteed the Slytherins first place in the house points, they thought. But, all-in-all, they quietly agreed, they would rather have a peaceful potions class.

Malfoy didn’t say anything the fillies could hear, but he did sneer at Harry. The three fillies gave him a hard look in return, and he hurried with his two boyfriends to catch up with the rest of the Slytherins ahead of them.

Stallions preferring stallions over mares was a rarity in Equestria, although it did happen. Most mares were upset at the loss of two eligible stallions, but it was their free choice. On the other hand, most such stallions could be coaxed into providing a foal if enough of an incentive was provided, so it wasn’t a total loss. Close friendships also entered the equation, so no mare wanted to ridicule or criticize such a stallion and take a chance on upsetting his mare friends.

Of course, there were exceptions. There was always a bit of tension in smaller towns and villages were the competition for stallions was more intense.

Harry and the fillies assumed that with the stallion-to-mare ratio here being near one-to-one that such couples, or threesomes, were nowhere near as unpopular.

Harry was amazed that the Gryffindors all managed to escape the confines of the dungeon classroom without incident. His bubble-head charm was becoming more effective, lasting almost a full ten minutes before needing renewal. The rest of the class was averaging around seven minutes. Still, they were congratulating themselves on a rather uneventful class as they entered the Great Hall for lunch.

For the Gryffindors, merely losing points in Professor Snape’s class was a nice change. No strange new appendages. No weird colours. No melted cauldrons. It was almost too good to be true.

It was only after lunch that the Gryffindors and Slytherins discovered that Sweetie Belle’s potion hadn’t been quite as inert as everyone had thought. As the students hit the toilets and made more room for their lunches, those who had solids to eliminate heard dulcet tones emerging from the toilets below them, praising their attitudes and accomplishments.

Their pooh was singing to them. Loudly. And scaring the pooh out of them. More than one wizard or witch managed to exit the toilets while leaving their pants and trousers around their ankles. Which led to much embarrassment, and more than a few hexings of other students for laughing at the victims.

Several of the witches retreated to their dorms and refused to come out.

Once the surprise ran out, the wizards had another reaction — whose pooh could sing the loudest. And longest. And then the wizards compared notes on what was sung. It made for a rather amusing and strange afternoon.

The potion wore off in only a few hours, well before dinner.

But it resulted in yet another long interview for Sweetie Belle with the clearly envious Weasley twins.

“Please, Sweetie Belle?” George said sweetly, later.

“Come with us and we’ll tell you some secrets . . . ,” said Fred in sugary tones.

“. . . about brewing potions.”

“We’ll give you all the practice you need . . . ,”

“. . . to excel in the git’s class.”

Sweetie Belle and the other fillies stared at them suspiciously.

Harry said suspiciously, “In exchange for what?”

“Nothing,” said George.

“We just want to teach her to brew potions.”

They smiled disarmingly.

“Oh? Really?” came the strict and frosty voice beside the group.

The redheaded twins’ smiles became fixed and tense as they looked over their shoulders and saw Professor McGonagall standing there. She had her arms crossed and an eyebrow arched in disbelief. “I think not.” She frowned down at them. “From now on, Sweetie Belle is only allowed to brew the potion assigned by Professor Snape. In the company of her classmates, with a prefect supervising. Is that clear?”

They sighed, “Yes, we understand, Professor.” They sighed a second time and then bid the seven goodbye. And walked away under the watchful eye of their Head of House.

Those still in the Common Room then watched as McGonagall posted another rule on the ATTENTION ALL GRYFFINDORS! Common Room board. A sign which everyone knew was aimed straight at the First Year Animagi. This rule was no exception.

The professors hadn’t yet learned the futility of trying to forestall the four from Equestria. They didn’t have the year-and-a-half of experience of living in Ponyville, with near daily misadventures to avoid. Twilight could have told them, but they wouldn’t have believed her. Even if Bonbon and Lyra backed her up.

Sweetie Belle is ONLY allowed to brew potions under the direct supervision of Professor Snape, or an accomplished potions student three (3) years her senior.
..a. The Weasley twins are excluded from supervising any students, at any time, for any reason, with regards to potions, unless Professor Snape gives his un-coerced permission.

۸-_-۸

That evening, in the staff meeting, and after Professors Snape and McGonagall explained that day’s potions accident, Professor Sprout had something important to add.

“You’ll remember the assignment I gave the First Years regarding the Walking Bushes.” She started. “Well, I can definitively say that the plants the Equestrians, and Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter, carried are in better health and have larger gains in size, thickness, and mobility.” She smiled. “In particular, the plants carried by Ronald Weasley and Apple Bloom are now the biggest bushes of the bunch.” She frowned down at her papers on the table. “It is definitely an effect of being close to the Equestrians. The Hufflepuffs’ plants followed normal growth patterns, while the students who were closest, literally, to the Equestrians and Mr. Weasley showed significant improvements.” She sighed. “The only conclusion I can make is that the magic around the Equestrians is affecting the Walking Plants, and the closer one is to the source the more prevalent the effect. It is like having a so-called green-thumb, only moreso.

“Why the four non-Equestrians produce this, I don’t know. The only commonality is that they are all pony animagi. It is of note, however, that both Ron Weasley and Apple Bloom are what the Equestians call earth-ponies, and the Equestrians say that earth-ponies are naturally talented with plants and the earth.”

۸-~-۸

The Quidditch season officially began on Saturday, It was Harry’s first match after weeks of training. That it was Gryffindor versus their detested Slytherin rivals merely upped the pressure. Gryffindor winning would move them into second place in the House Championship based on the points won and lost so far in classes.

While everyone knew Harry was to play Seeker, Wood had decided that practices would be in the evening when players were difficult to tell apart. That hid how well Harry could play in general, not that he was playing. Harry didn’t know which was worse — his fellow Gryffindors telling him he’d be brilliant or Draco and the other Slytherins saying they’d be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

With Hermione’s help — she really was a brilliant witch — he managed to keep up on all his homework. And while the fillies were smart, they weren’t her level of smart. Book-walking might have helped if the professors hadn’t adjusted their class assignments to compensate for the better understanding and retention rates the students now displayed.

Hermione had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which barely contained more information about the game than Ron did. But it was interesting, and presented the information in a much easier to understand manner. And didn’t focus only on the Chudley Cannons rather dubious accomplishments.

After seeing the Headmaster actually making a mistake during the troll incident, Hermione was a bit less likely to listen to adults — they were not infallible, she had learned. She was also a bit more relaxed about breaking rules. She was much nicer for it, the First Years all agreed.

The Great Hall was full of cheerful chatter and the smell of delicious sausages, steaks, waffles, and other delights that morning. It looked to be a good day for a Quidditch match, clear and sunny, and almost warm as long as you stayed out of the wind.

Harry, however, was not in a gay mood as were the other students. Anticipation was playing havoc with his stomach. He had never done anything where he was watched by a thousand people. Even the school plays had only featured his friends and their families.

This was different. There were hundreds of strangers watching and judging him. Not even the fillies wheedling could get him to choke down more than a slice of toast. Far too soon, he was in the locker room changing into his scarlett team robes.

Harry saw, out of the corner of his eyes, as they were trooping out into the field that his friends had created a banner, flashing Potter for President, over the crowd. He had to smile at the thought, and took comfort that his friends were behind him.

He had to think that the Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were holding Scootaloo in place to keep her from joining the game. After all the games the pegasi had played lately, he could understand the temptation.

Then he noticed the hundreds of people all staring at him and nearly stopped moving.

At the blast of Madam Hooch’s whistle, fifteen brooms rose up into the sky.

It was a hard fought game for the other members of his team, and he quickly forgot about the crowds watching as he searched for the elusive Snitch. There was a bit of comedy as Professor McGonagall kept upbraiding the announcer, Jordan, for his off-colour comments about the Gryffindor team and the witches on it. And the Slytherins were certainly holding to their reputation as relentless rule-benders and cheaters.

It was only when Harry’s broom started to buck that anyone realized that something was wrong.

۸-~-۸

Author's Note

Senko is responsible for Rule 10. Slytherinsal, from fanfiction.net, for the potion.

88 — Hiding in Plain Sight

“It was Snape,” growled Ron, again.

They were in the common Room. While the other Gryffindors were partying and hailing their achievement in finally beating the Slytherins, the animagi were discussing something else.

The fillies, as well as Hermione and Ginny, were glaring darkly at nothing in particular.

“I don’t care what Hagrid says about that git being a professor. Or that Headmaster Dumbledore says he has ‘complete confidence’ in the bloody wizard!” Ron continued, angrily crossing his fore-legs and mirroring the five witches.

“Language!” Hermione said to him sharply. Then she nodded. “The Defence Against the Dark Arts book, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, says that unless you’re sending a one-off spell, you have to maintain constant view of your target and continue casting the spell. And I saw Professor Snape staring at you, Harry, and mumbling constantly.” She frowned. “And it didn’t stop until I set his robes on fire!” she hissed quietly.

They all quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard her.

“But, why?” said Harry. “I haven’t done anything wrong in class, or to him.”

Neville spoke up. “He has been watching you especially.”

They turned to him and stared.

He shrugged anxiously. “He makes me nervous,” he said, twisting his hands together, “sneaking up on me and yelling about everything I do. I can’t concentrate and I make lots of mistakes.” He took a breath and steadied himself. “But he watches you, Harry.”

He shivered, “I try to watch out for him, and so I’ve seen him with other students. Even when he’s with the Slytherins, he still keeps his eyes on you. I don’t think he likes you at all, in particular.”

Ron’s frown was making deep furrows in his forehead. “And remember how he picked on you the first day in class? Asking you those questions? And then took away points for no reason later?”

Neville nervously laughed. “I melt cauldrons, and you still lose more points than I do!”

Sweetie Belle looked at him. “He hates you for no reason,” she said.

The others all nodded in agreement.

Scootaloo slowly smiled. “Perhaps we should return the favour.” She looked at the others. “A bully is a bully,” she said slowly. “And it’s not like Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, all talk. He takes points from Harry and us, and our House, just because he can. He’s a terrible teacher and he’s hurtin’ our chances to learn. And he jinxed Harry for no reason. Harry could’ve been hurt if he fell.”

“Hurt?” exclaimed Ron, “At that height? Without his wand? He could’ve died! At the very least he would’ve gone to hospital with a mess of broken bones! He would have spent days in hospital.”

Neville nodded. He knew all about falling and getting hurt. He was very clumsy, he knew.

The fillies looked him, puzzled. They had always thought Neville’s fall in Broomstick riding class had been a fluke injury. Pegasi, well, Rainbow Dash in particular, regularly crashed from higher than that — and while going lots faster — and usually got off with being dazed. Rarely did she actually get hurt bad enough to go to a hospital.

Then they noticed Harry as he nodded reluctantly. Their eyes went wide at the thought that a short fall could cause such severe harm, then narrowed dangerously.

It was very quiet for a moment in animagi corner of the Gryffindor Common Room, despite the party that surrounded them. The witches currently relaxing by grooming the ponies were listening intently. Their expressions showed their surprise at the ponies not knowing how dangerous a fall from a broom might be, especially from the height at which Harry had been cruising. They knew from their Quidditch games that the pegasi were rugged, especially after seeing some of the crashes that they had had. Even hits by the Bludgers had barely fazed them. Still, Quidditch was a dangerous game and falls were taken seriously.

Scootaloo stared off into the distance for a moment. Then she said, “I think we should pay him back. Rainbow certainly would!” She looked at the other two fillies, who were nodding, then at Hermione and Ginny who were listening with wide-eyes. “We should start pranking him.”

Hermione gasped, “We’ll get in trouble!” as the others looked thoughtful or worried, depending on their dispositions. And dislike for a certain professor.

Their groomers were silent, not wishing to draw attention to the group. From their expressions, they wouldn’t mind a few pranks on the git of the dungeons. As long as they were not implicated in the aftermath, of course. None of them were Slytherins, and each had his or her own reasons for wanting revenge on the professor.

“But how?” wondered Neville. “I mean, how could we get him? He’s an adult and knows far more about magic and potions than we do.”

“We don’t have to. Someone else who knows more than us, could,” Ron said as he grinned and looked over his shoulder at his brothers.

Scootaloo’s smile got bigger. “Not if we hire someone to do it for us.” She, too, turned and looked across the room at the twins before turning back. “It’s not like we can’t afford it, is it?” The other two fillies began to smile, as well.

Hermione, Neville, and Ginny started to look nervous. It was one thing to talk about pranking a professor — they had all had that fantasy — but to actually follow through and do it?

Harry sighed. He’d rather forget about it and ignore the wizard as best he could. If you didn’t react to their taunts, bullies soon lost interest. Unless the bully was his cousin. He was too stupid to lose interest.

But the fillies were an unstoppable force. To them, saying, “Don’t do that,” or “It’s dangerous,” was a challenge.

On the other hoof, he smiled slightly, the twins would prevent things from going too far. It was, after all, limited to what they could actually achieve. Unlike his three filly friends who managed to accomplish things he was sure should not have been possible for anyone.

Noticing that the animagi were all staring at them, the twins worked their way over to the group. It took only a few moments to explain what the group knew and what they wanted. The twins were more than happy to prank the “git” in exchange for monetary compensation. The more extensive the prank, the more they could earn, everyone decided.

Under peer pressure, Hermione quickly devised a schedule for how much a prank could earn, based on the length of time it lasted, how funny it was, and how convoluted. Any necessary material was covered at cost. Harry could tell she was secretly pleased at everyone depending on her to develop a fair system. She promised the twins a more formal schedule later.

Both sides felt it was an agreeable contract that they finally settled upon, especially with the ten galleon primer fee.

The plotters spent the rest of the party making a list of possible pranks, and laughing at what they imagined the Professor’s reactions would be. And it was definitely not a case of too many cooks spoiling the soup. Even the groomers added their two bits to the plan. It was going to be a vastly amusing next couple of months, if not the rest of the year.

Professor Snape would never know what hit him — to their immense satisfaction.

And the twins were not bothered at the possibility of long or repeated detentions. Not when it involved earning money towards their goal. And those detentions just gave them that much more time to plot pranks.

The animagi just would have to make up the lost points in their classes.

They planned to start Monday morning with a potion on his chair that used his body-heat to activate. He wouldn’t be able to get up from his chair — he would be stuck to it. And a simple finite was not the cure. The twins would brew it tomorrow.

Then, for the next morning, they planned for his robes to change to a pink, blue, and green plaid — slanted from the horizontal just enough to be annoying to see. His robes would appear normal, to him. Others, however, would see the new colours and designs just fine.

With the help of a certain pair of winged animagi, painting the required runes above his apartment door would be . . . foal’s play.

That prank would turn out to be the twins’ major earner. The runes above the door to his rooms did the trick — they were written with invisible ink and keyed only to Professor Snape. A loose hair collected earlier and stuck to the runes had finished them.

The runes chose random clashing colours and went off only once a week, never two days in a row. And delayed the colours appearing by half-an-hour to three hours so the professor never tweaked to exactly where it was happening to him. The notice-me-not included in the runes prevented his detection of the change. Or the runes.

Later they added to the runes so that the alterations lasted only until he or someone else cast a strong finite. Which, to everyone else’s delight, would only happen after someone directly mentioned them to him — several times. Just once didn’t work.

Changing clothes would never work as a solution on that day. The new clothes also changed, to a new pattern and with a different time delay. He would be convinced he had been jinxed by someone in the corridors.

The runes always wore off at midnight. No one could say the pranksters were damaging property.

Much later, the twins altered the runes so that when the finite was cast it appeared to work, but, instead, triggered another delayed spell that turned his hair to Gryffindor colours. Which he would, again, only notice if someone pointed it out to him — repeatedly.

In the meantime, during the party, the group amused themselves thinking up new pranks.

۸-_-۸

Elly couldn’t believe her luck. Whether it was good luck or bad, she wasn’t sure.

Getting the letter to Hogwarts had been a surprise, but it would get her training in this world’s magic without suspicion or cost to her. Plus, her instructors had always said that schools were a good source of ambient love — mostly the colts and fillies for their parents and vice versa.

Hogwarts was a boarding school, meaning few, if any, parents ever visited. That was bad as it meant much fewer opportunities than she had expected to harvest love. No parents dropping off or picking up their little ones.

However, nearby Hogsmeade was home to Madam Puddifoots, which was good. Love was plentiful there.

As a First Year student she couldn’t visit Hogsmeade until third year, which was bad. Very bad. Unless she could sneak out without getting caught by the various checks the older students did to keep track of the younger students. But then again, there were definite advantages to being a form-changing ling!

Many girls attended Hogwarts to get their Mrs. Degree, she had learned. Which was good. The students’ mutual desires for mates would provide love in abundance.

The school severely restricted the students from getting together, which was bad. Their policies kept the students studying and in classes to keep them occupied, and made them sleep in separate dormitories. That severely restricted her opportunities.

The students could get together at meal times, however, and during study periods if they kept their activities to a low key. There would be more than one couple staring into each other’s eyes soulfully instead of studying. Which was good.

However, if she tried to hang out with couples, people would quickly notice and chase her, a young and “innocent” Firstie away. That was bad. She didn’t want to draw attention, not at all. Safety lay in hiding in the background.

But if she could manage to sit by older couples, she could feed while they interacted during meal times. And she pretended to eat the food on the plates. That was good.

There were ponies here! That was very, very bad. And she had almost fled when she realized just who those wandering adults were.

But they didn’t notice her at all, which was good! Then she heard they were leaving soon, which was even better.

However there were three fillies here! That was not good. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the adults, but it definitely wasn’t good.

Except, they were veritable fountains of love. Which was more than just good — if she could get close enough without alarming them.

Her first week in Hogwarts had been tiring in many ways. She had had to stay on her tip-hooves in maintaining just the right amount of tragedy to keep the sympathy and love flowing from her fellow Hufflepuffs. She didn’t want it turning into unusable out-right pity, however. Nor suspicions that she was milking the situation to her advantage.

She had subtly altered her appearance to better evoke feelings of sibling love, depending on who was around her at the time. It wasn’t a lot, minor tweaking of her base form, but it helped. She wouldn’t starve if she carefully shepherded her reserves. It helped that she never had to use her disguise magic.

She wasn’t sure how that worked — she had never been able to tweak her appearance as a ling, before. Maybe it was a skill innate in her new base form? In any case, there was no green glow to give away her magic at work.

The classes had been easy for her, but the make-up studying had been tedious. The book-walking spell had turned dreary memorization into a simple romp. She had already finished her first-year books and started on the second year books in the library.

She pretended to take longer than she needed on the assigned essays so she could continue to bask in the feelings of the more amorous older students, and the friendly younger ones who helped her.

The wizards tended to be more lustful than the witches and it took her only moments to separate the serious couples from the lustful ones. She preferred the serious couples, especially when the feelings of love were mutual between the two. And sitting nearby studying wasn’t hard to justify.

While in the classes themselves, she had carefully watched around her. She made sure she always performed in the middle, only average, when doing practicals. She didn’t want to either be in the front or the rear of the class standings. She always made sure she was non-descript, average in everything — even her appearance. However, the large number of practicals she had to do to catch up had been a strain on her reserves and she was definitely, at first, using more than she was getting.

It had been in charms class that she had first noticed the three fillies surrounding the student everyone else told her was Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. The flow from three fillies and lesser flows from the two witches that sat with them had been intriguing. Not as powerful as the older students in relationships, but getting there. That had been her turning point.

Sitting near them at lunch had been interesting. She had especially appreciated the feelings that were closer to what she had experienced in Ponyville.

It wasn’t long before she made it a habit to sit close to them in their combined classes. It was risky, but then the pay-off in love reserves was well worth it. She varied her seat a bit. Sometimes beside them, sometimes behind. Always within a desk-length of them.

Luckily for her, the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors got along well and there was inter-House mixing during the classes.

Even with practicing spell-casting in the evenings eating away at her stocks, she was still coming out ahead on love storage. Enough that she had managed, in the last month, to put a week’s worth of love in jar. It had been stressful, at times, always working at getting the required sustenance. Now that she had established an adequate feeding schedule, she could begin to relax.

It was actually quite a poor showing for her time as an infiltrator. But then, she wasn’t trying to gather enough for a trip back to the hive she didn’t have. What she was stockpiling in her trunk was just for her emergency use only. And she was pleased with her harvesting rate. No one would ever know she was here.

In many ways she found Hogwarts rather comforting. It was like a hive training cluster, and she could almost fool herself, sometimes, that she was back in the badlands. Except she was surreptitiously feeding off her fellow trainees.

She hadn’t tried to brave the Gryffindor Common Room before this weekend. It meant a long time in close confinement with the fillies and the wizard of their interest without the distraction for them of paying attention to a classes’ professor. She was worried they might notice her watching them. And, based on what the other Hufflepuff witches had said, she wasn’t sure she could gather enough love to make it worth the risk.

But the celebration of their win over the Slytherins should make the room rowdy enough to conceal her presence with the other Hufflepuffs. At least, if the stories of the Gryffindor parties were accurate.

And while it was true that the Hufflepuffs hadn’t won a game or anything, the Slytherins had lost to someone else. That was apparently something worth celebrating. A vicarious victory, of sorts.

Not like the ponies who tended to celebrate for the sake of celebrating anything there was to celebrate.

She almost fell over when she entered Gryffindor. Only the group of Hufflepuffs with her staved off that public embarrassment.

The Gryffindor Common Room was awash with emotion and people. Elly had never felt anything like it. There was love, lust, happiness, camaraderie — even jealousy — all hitting her like a giant wave. It felt like she was walking through a fog, or under water — without the fish swimming around her, just people.

The sounds and smells that hit her were more like a wall. There was music coming from a record-player in one corner, a wizarding-radio in another corner, and a second record-player in a third corner. Someone had put up sound barriers to reflect the music into its quarter of the room.

Couples were dancing everywhere, some of them even moving in time to the music. Two witches were dancing with each other on a table, with several wizards cheering them on.

Elly’s instructors had taught her, and her entire infiltrator cohort, how to dance. And included both quadrupedal and bipedal forms. And included the formal dances the major races preferred. The bumping, bouncing, and grinding she was seeing was more of a primitive mating dance than what she expected of an advanced civilization.

A few couples were making out, both standing up and sitting on the couches. She could pick out jealousy coming from several wizards and witches watching the snogging couples. And envy.

Everyone was talking, singing, or enthusiastically yelling words nobody could understand. It was all very loud. And no sign of a professor or Head of House.

There were several cakes, mostly eaten, sitting on the tables. Beside them were empty and full bottles of butterbeer. She was positive she could smell fire-whiskey. She hoped she was right. Based on her times in Ponyville, drunks were much more likely to be effusive about their feeling. Or they fell asleep.

Elly had never seen or heard of anything like this party. Her instructors had never even hinted such a thing could happen. Pony celebrations were sedate affairs by comparison. This was close to a pony riot, and guards would have been called to bring some order. But here there were only happy students.

She sidled over to one side of the entrance, her back to the wall, and just took it all in. Several of the ponies were ponies and getting petted and groomed. They were all in cluster at one side and she could feel their blissful contentment and happiness. A steady flow of low level love there, but it didn’t matter. There was more love in other directions.

The changeling slowly worked her way around the edges of the room. She wanted to get closer to the couples she had noticed that were not just driven by lust. After a few minutes, she sat down and just . . . drank it down beside one of the couches. Those that might have noticed before were too busy dancing, arguing, and talking.

Her targets were too involved in enjoying the closeness of their partner to care. And because they were out in public, no one could complain about her presence — if they noticed her at all. She was literally hiding in plain sight without any disguise or camouflage at all. She had never heard of such a possibility. It was frightening and exhilarating.

She could feel her reserves filling up at an incredible rate. If it continued like this, she would get drunk on it if she weren’t careful.

She remained for an hour, watching and listening. She saw the Weasley twins make their way to the ponies. The flow of emotions changed several minutes before their arrival, and became sharper, more edged, as the level of love dropped, despite their warm smiles.

After an hour, she furtively snuck out of the room and into the corridor. The quiet was almost deafening, and she suddenly felt cold compared to the room she had just left.

She ran back to the Hufflepuff dorm. She hurriedly made and filled two jars with her reserves. She reduced herself to the bare minimum, no more than two days’ worth. She then secreted the jars in her trunk in the hidden closet. Afterwards, she returned to the party in Gryffindor. A feast like this was unheard of, and she intended to make the most of it!

The ponies were still plotting, she could tell, but the happiness and love flow was slowly climbing to what it had been. That they were plotting made her very nervous. She managed to creep close enough to determine that she wasn’t the target.

Discovering that they were plotting to prank a teacher, and planned to do so for the rest of the year left her wide-eyed. It was obviously an opportunity for her. She could get an advantage if she warned him.

But the more she considered it, the less attractive such a deal became. After several mentions of potions, dungeon bat, and slimy git, she figured out that their target was Professor Snape. He was not a source of love. Quite the contrary, actually. Students leaving his class were useless to her until much later in the day. And any time assignments came out, so did a veritable cloud of dismay.

Helping him would generate no love. It had the distinct possibility of actually working against her if others found out she had disclosed the pranksters to him. People would take note of her and avoid her, which would make collection extremely difficult.

On the other hoof, if she worked behind the scenes to support the pranksters . . . .

She would have to be careful. An occasional word here or there to throw suspicions to others. Perhaps a random comment that she had seen someone besides the pranksters researching a book about the sort of thing that had befallen the Professor. Joking about her, by chance, hearing someone planning a prank — not that she knew that this prank was the one they were talking about, of course.

The party lasted until quite early in the morning. And she milked it for all it was worth. From almost one to five jars — an incredible haul for a single night!

Compared to what she managed to gather during a normal day at Hogwarts, her decision to attend the party tonight was definitely a good one. And boded well for her future in this new world. She could count on at least three more parties, more than enough to build up a year’s back-supply of love. A big enough cushion to begin building a hive.

And, best of all, nobody, and no pony, had ever suspected what she was doing. All any of them ever saw was an average-looking Hufflepuff First Year girl quietly sitting on the floor behind an occupied couch, drinking her butterbeer and watching everything with a wide and happy smile. She hadn’t even needed to change from her default form.

۸-_-۸

89 — Reflections

Castor was impressed and worried by the Embassy Ballroom. It was a magnificent piece of work, with marble walls and a light-coloured wooden floor, with dark wood trim fittings and furnishing to offer a contrast. The lighting could not be seen, but it was as if the ceiling itself were glowing with light. Nothing too bright to look at, but the only shadows were beneath the tables and chairs. The large windows that were one wall looked out over the well-lit courtyard enclosed by part of the building, with the portal-dome and another building further behind it.

What worried him was that he could plainly see that it was bigger than it should have been. The ceiling was higher than a mere second floor extension, which he knew was as tall as it was. It appeared to be much higher than the bottom of the second floor that he knew was above it, reaching to the bottom of the third floor. The gap between the balcony around the room and the ceiling was certainly much larger than the distance from the ground floor to the balcony!

The wall to the back was much deeper, too. It easily doubled the depth room to make it appear as a square thirty meters on a side, instead of the thirty by ten meters that he knew it was.

He hoped no one else knew the dimensions of the room well-enough to detect the differences.

In one corner of the room stood their cancer-cure machine.

It was a horizontal plastic tube, much like the old iron-lungs used in the fifties when polio had been a scourge of the land. There was a bed that slid out for the patient, but the semi-clear plastic was too hazy for details to be seen. The “ON” button just tested the crystals hidden inside a battery case. If they were sufficiently charged, the button lit-up, with a scale for power level on a display above it. The “STAGE ONE” lever completed a set of calming runes. The “STAGE TWO” lever then completed a set of sleeping runes. After a brief pause of five minutes, with a countdown display, the “THIRD STAGE” lever caused a ring of light to surround the patient and coast from their feet to their head. The levers were attached to complicated devices that masked the spell-runes in a system of circuit boards and electronic pieces.

The runes ordered the cancer cells to cease growing everywhere inside the tube. And to die. The cancer was dead in less than a second. Then the cancerous tissue was removed with a spell. All that remained was for the proper blood cells to attack and remove any debris left behind, moving it to the appropriate waste areas of the body.

It only took ten minutes for the entire operation.

However, they needed to maintain the illusion that technology was at work. To that end, the patient remained inside the tube while the light-ring coasted back and forth the length of their body for fifty minutes.

It also gave time for the crystals to recharge, if they needed it, in a magic poor area. There was a small detachable motor for generating electricity for the electronics, or a power cord to the wall could be used.

The final spell, triggered to start one hour after the STAGE ONE lever was flipped, woke the patient and cast a mild cheering charm on them.

The pony scientists had been quite disgusted, and intrigued, at the British solution to protecting the secret of magic. The first at needing to hide what was a simple series of spells, the second at how well the machine worked at doing that.

If anyone took apart the machine, they would find real working parts. And the electronics that drove them. But unless they exactly copied the design, right down to the logo, it wouldn’t do anything.

Beside it was a cancer-detecting device that was a simple platform with a large metal ring that surrounded the patient as it moved up and down. A single light glowed green until it detected living cancer cells. It, too, could use either a small generator or wall plug.

It was quite the popular attraction. And discovered three people who didn’t know they had cancer. All three were told that once they had confirmed the cancer with their own doctors, that the Embassy would be more than happy to schedule them for treatment at no cost, at their earliest convenience.

It was a wonderful coincidence to prove that what the Equestrians were offering really worked. Even if only to prove they could detect the cancer.

And there was a small sign stating that they had solutions to other diseases, such as ALS and Muscular Dystrophy, but they weren’t ready for release, yet.

The Equestrians and British had considered having a few “cured” amputees in attendance, but felt that that had the probability of becoming demeaning for the former patients. Instead, they provided a pamphlet showing before-and-after pictures of some of the volunteers.

The true attractions for the politically motivated were, of course, the Equestrians. The women all wore backless dresses so the pegasi could show off their wing-tattoos. The unicorns were occasionally showing off the concentric circle tattoos hidden just inside their hairlines to interested parties.

Prince Blueblood was in his element and working hard to preserve their secrets while making profitable contacts with the world-movers and shakers. Watching the Yanks trying to monopolize his time was humorous, as they kept trying to fend off, and disparage, those that they felt were competition. The Soviet Union, China, Japan, and Germany were their main foes. But India, Canada, and Australia, as members of the Commonwealth were rather smug at their close ties to the U.K. They spent more than a little time discussing with the British Ambassador, and his aides, when they would get their hands on the foreign technology. And what it would cost. And making arrangements to supplement British industry with outsourcing.

The ball itself was a tremendous success. All 180 nations with an Embassy or High Commission in London were in evidence. And Castor knew his wife would be in teas and meeting with friends for weeks, all of whom would want a blow-by-blow description of the ball and who she had met and seen. What had both his daughter’s and his wife’s eyes glowing was to meet, in person, Prince Charles and Princess Diana. And the Prime Minister and his wife.

Castor’s wife wasn’t a social butterfly, interested in people only because of their social standing. Quite the contrary, she was very down-to-earth. Still, very few commoners ever got to meet members of the Royal Family. And thanked for their husband’s help in looking after the Equestrians.

Blueblood even gave him an invite to visit Equestria for a short vacation before the new year.

Several dozen high-ranking diplomats were taken on a quick trip through the portal to set to rest any rumours that it was all a hoax. Pictures of them on the other side were provided for their home governments to pore over.

The visitors all noticed the massive walls and the soldiers around the portal on the other side. A few noticed the soldiers on the walls and that they were watching both sides, not just the portal. And, even though Castor remained on the Earth side of the portal, he was sure they noticed the Earth side of the portal seemed to be designed to keep something in while the Equestrian side seemed to be designed to keep something out.

Of special interest to the American, Russian, and Chinese Ambassadors were the weapons held by the guards. Seeing guards carrying spears and swords certainly threw all their calculations for a loop, Castor knew, as they tried to understand how a people that had such primitive weapons could also have such advanced medical technology.

And be considered the dominant species with such primitive weapons.

Not to mention why the U.K. was so interested in currying their favour.

The post-mortem on the Ball would be long and detailed for all participants.

۸-_-۸

Harry and the fillies were very relieved that Bonbon and Lyra were keeping their distance. They saw the two in the corridors and their classes occasionally, and sometimes they saw them at meal times, but only rarely. The four students did notice that the two adults had wands, but they never saw the adult Equestrians using them.

A few jaunts through the portraits had revealed that the two adult ponies were keeping a discrete eye on them. And practicing with their new wands. Seeing the two using the wall-walking spell had been a surprise.

Harry and the fillies, as well as Hermione, had forgotten all about that spell. The excitement of finding the lost Chamber of Secrets and then the battle with the basilisk had pushed it out of their minds. And then they were too caught up in learning magic.

Hermione had immediately started checking their books for the spell — Harry’s explanations had not been that helpful. Unfortunately, the school’s library books had nothing helpful. However, Harry had tried the spell before and this time, with so many watching him keenly, he still walked into the wall instead.

Hermione had been the one to conquer the spell first. Harry had cast it on both of them and walked into the wall. Hermione had continued on through it. Harry had merely bruised his nose — again.

The two of them had finally succeeded, with her leading him and not telling him where the wall was. “Harry,” she had said. “close your eyes.”

He had. Then she had spun him around several times.

“Is this really necessary?” he had asked, swaying slightly, dizzy.

“Yes. Now hold my hand and follow me!”

She had pulled on his hand, not allowing him to hesitate in his steps.

Then she had said. “Open your eyes!”

When he had, he saw he was part way through the wall. Which meant he had succeeded. With that breakthrough they soon were all walking through the walls.

That Bonbon and Lyra were learning how to use the wands wasn’t really a surprise — the young Equestrians had sort of expected it. What else were the two adults supposed to do all day? Especially considering how wands made magic possible for non-unicorns.

What did surprise them was that the two adults were learning much faster than the students. The two Equestrians had an advantage, however, in that they weren’t taking History of Magic, Astronomy, or other classes. That freed up some time for the other subjects they were taking. And didn’t split their concentration.

The announcement of the Embassy, which Harry and the Fillies knew was big news in the muggle world, barely made a ripple in the wizarding world. Bonbon and Lyra had warned them it was coming up so they wouldn’t be surprised if any of their fellow students approached them. The only ones who noticed were a few of the half-bloods, whose parents had owled them the news. The muggle-born had no real communication with their parents. They would probably learn of the situation when they went home for Christmas.

Naturally, the other half- and pure-blood wizards and witches ignored anything that the muggles did as irrelevant to wizardkind.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder what the Ministry thought of all this.

۸-_-۸

Malfoy slowly returned to his old habits and was as unpleasant as ever after the Quidditch match. Offended that the Slytherins had lost, he said that the Gryffindor’s Seeker, Harry, would be replaced by a wide-mouthed tree frog. No one but himself found this funny as they were impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. Jealous and angry, Malfoy had gone to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

However, the three fillies quickly disabused the Slytherin of the thought that this was somehow a hardship. They had swiftly countered with how big and beautiful Princess Sparkle’s castle was at home. Not to mention that he was on a first name basis with both of the kingdom’s rulers. And that the five of them were all the family he needed.

Plus, when you included the rest of the animagi, he had a very large family of friends, indeed. Much larger than Draco’s pitiful two boyfriends. They tactfully ignored Pansy.

They didn’t understand why Draco got upset at the mention of his boyfriends. Wasn’t he happy with them?

The fillies were amazed to see that the weather here on Earth managed itself. Oh, they had seen storms and such while at the Weasleys and here at Hogwarts, but nothing had prepared them for the onset of a Scottish winter. There was no running of the leaves or helping birds fly south. The weather just got colder and colder until they woke one morning to find a yard of snow on the ground outside. They were equally amazed that the corridors in Hogwarts were so cold. These people had magic and yet had never used it to seal the many cracks and crevices that allowed heat to escape the castle? Or were they subtly making the students exercise their magic by staying warm? In either case, warming charms quickly became the Firsties’ favourite spells.

Professor McGonagall went around asking who would be staying over the Christmas hols. They discovered only the Weasleys — Ron, Ginny, Percy and the twins — would be left in the Gryffindor tower. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

Everyone else was going home.

Even Myrtle.

Her parents had passed on not long ago, according to Professor McGonagall. They had been in their eighties and thought their daughter had died in an automobile accident while just a child. Myrtle had a brother and sister, but they had been born shortly before and after she had gone to Hogwarts. So she knew little of them, and they knew even less of her. And while their grandchildren might have welcomed her as family, it would have made for a tense holiday for them all as she was a virtual stranger among muggles. And, unfortunately, none of the subsequent generations had had a magical child to ease the discovery.

Not to mention the problems in re-integrating her into their family as the older sister who was decades younger than her siblings. Even the muggles would notice something off about that.

It would be like fostering her with muggles that happened to have the same last name.

Myrtle, of course, was going with the Equestrians, the fillies assured their Head of House. They had promised to look after her before returning her to the land of the living.

Harry thought it was kind of eerie that the Christmas hols were almost at the same time as Equestria’s Hearth’s Warming hols. After his explanation of Christmas, again, the three fillies also thought it was rather odd timing. After some thought and discussion, the four went to Bonbon and Lyra.

Later that week, they met with the five Weasleys in the Common Room.

“We asked you here,” Harry said, after a quick reassuring look at the fillies, “To ask if you would like to go home with us this hols? There’s plenty of room at the castle and it won’t be a problem at all.” The four looked at the Weasleys hopefully.

“A castle?” said George.

“In Equestria?” said Fred.

Ginny was almost hopping in excitement. “Christmas with you?”

Percy blinked while Ron just stared at them.

Harry nodded. “And we could introduce you to all our families and friends.”

“It’ll be loads of fun,” added Scootaloo.

“Especially if we get to go to the Hearth’s Warming play in Canterlot,” said Sweetie. They all nodded. “It was loads of fun year before last, when our sisters all got a part in the play. And visiting Canterlot is definitely on the schedule!”

“And you did let us come over to your house for a whole month before we started school, so it’s only fair for us to invite you to visit us for the holidays,” said Apple Bloom.

It didn’t take much effort to get the Weasleys to agree.

They wanted to extend the invitation to Hermione. But she had already told them, quite enthusiastically, that she and her parents were going on a skiing holiday in Switzerland. And considering the lateness of the offer, there was no way the Grangers could change their plans. Perhaps they could plan something for the Easter Hols, instead?

In the meantime, the four told the Weasleys and Myrtle about Sweet Apple Acres, Ponyville, the Castle, Canterlot, and the Everfree Forest. And all their friends they would be seeing. The fillies wanted to see if they would get cutie marks as tour guides.

۸-_-۸

Having lived her entire life in the hive, which was underground and in a desert, the appearance of snow was a spectacular event. Oh, her instructors had mentioned it, but only as a minor inconvenience that they could simply fly over while it hindered most ponies. The snow around the castle, however, was not a minor problem when you didn’t have wings, she discovered. Especially when you were in a situation where an audience could see you if you did manifest wings! Meaning she was stuck being ground-bound.

She could not fathom how any creature managed to survive when the snow was so deep it would have completely buried her — even covering her horn! And every step outside caused her to sink to her waist, or deeper, in this new form. Thank Mother that the older students cleared paths through the snow!

Only the stories of the Great Frozen North could compare to what she now saw. And experienced.

She finally understood why some creatures would want to hibernate during winter.

Watching the Weasley twins charming snowballs to chase professors had been amazing. She never would have dared prank one of her instructors in such a manner — that would have been a quick one-way trip to the hive’s love reserves. Of course, as a ling she couldn’t have cast such a spell, anyway. Cut, blast, levitate, propel, sure. Enchant something to follow someone? Not at all. None of them had that kind of magical power. Except Queen Mother. May she rest in peace with her hive, as befit a great leader.

But now, with a wand . . . she could do anything that anyone else could do. All she had to do was study. She had to giggle at the thought.

In any case, here, they merely received detentions for their assaults.

It took a lot of coaxing before her fellow Hufflepuffs could convince her to join them in a snowball fight.

Her aim when throwing snowballs was terrible. Well, her throwing anything with her hands would probably result in terrible aim. She was just as likely to hit one of her team-mates as the “enemy.” Using magic to banish the snowballs at them instead was a quickly mastered skill for her and the Hufflepuffs. Making new snowballs was a hand-intensive effort. Elly found that after a short while her hands actually hurt from the cold. And casting warming charms tended to melt the snow. The Hufflepuffs rapidly developed a strategy of two-thirds of a team making the snowballs and the others banishing them at the enemy, and then rotating positions to let their hands warm up.

When the Gryffindors joined in, she didn’t know what to think. They were play fighting, sure, but how did that foster emotions of love between the participants? The Equestrians seemed to fit right in place, though, and watching them pelt their clueless mate was quite entertaining — and supplied a good dose of food in the aftermath when they all headed inside for hot chocolate and snacks.

To her surprise, she received many offers of a place to stay over the holidays. The amazing part was how many of them were sincere — they truly did not want her to stay alone in the castle. Susan Bones was the first, quickly followed by Hannah Abbott, Sally-Anne Perks, and many others.

She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She was just a ling worker. She wasn’t even in disguise as someone they knew and liked. At first she was worried that this was a trap, but then she could tell from their emotions that they were sincere. Except for a few who were inviting her only because they felt that doing so was a good political manoeuvre. That she would, somehow, be beholden to them for the favour. Their cold emotions gave them away, and she politely declined.

After much consideration, she decided that Hannah Abbott would be the best choice. She had a full family and would provide the most opportunities for nourishment. And it would provide her with a wealth of information on human families and how they interacted. An area she was sorely lacking information about at the moment.

And Hannah’s personality would make any of Elly’s mistakes easier to counter by claiming Hannah had misunderstood or misremembered whatever the problem was. From what she had observed of the Hufflepuff witches, so far, Hannah was easily flustered and appeared to lack self-confidence. She made frequent claims of being stupid. And when under pressure she was prone to making mistakes. A perfect tool for infiltration. Any mistakes Elly made would not be noticed or could be waved off, either if she replaced the witch or merely accompanied her. Not that she planned to replace her. That had many ways it could go very wrong.

She was cultivating that friendship by helping the witch in her studies — but not too much. She didn’t want to draw attention to them.

It was late Saturday and she was exploring the castle for hidden passages, alcoves, and rooms. An infiltrator always searched out small places for hiding, should anything go wrong in the future. And with a castle that liked to shuffle things around, it was an ongoing project. Just keeping track of safe havens was a weekly chore.

Currently, she was in the Astronomy Tower, carefully studying the walls and ceiling for secrets when she almost walked right past the closed door. It was a disused classroom, of course, but something made her want to look inside. A quick alohomora — such a simple wand spell, far better than the love-consuming bursts of magic the lings used to open locks — and she was inside.

The bright light from the windows revealed dust-covered desks and chairs piled against the walls, and an upturned wastepaper bin in the corner. But what drew her attention was something that didn’t look as if it belonged there. It seemed as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way. The trails in the dust certainly made it seem so.

An ornate oval mirror that nearly touched the ceiling stood there. It had a fancy gold frame and stood on two clawed feet. It had something carved into the wood at the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Curious, she stepped closer, walking around the object — and almost screamed when she finally looked into the mirror. In the reflection, she saw not only herself, but a whole crowd of lings standing right beside her. All of her friends from the hive. The workers, drone, and even her Queen Mother.

That was impossible, as she knew they were all dead.

She spun around immediately. The room was empty. Slowly she turned and looked back at the mirror.

This time she saw only herself in the mirror, but gradually lings began to appear until a there was a crowd standing around her. As she watched, she slowly morphed from a person and became a true ling. Only, she was taller, bigger, and on her head was the bony crest of a queen. And all the lings around her had a slight similarity — their shells and legs a bit more blue than solid black — which meant they were her workers and drones. They were proudly looking out at her in the classroom, and glancing up to the side at their queen, with love and devotion. And she was looking down at them with the same expression, nuzzling affectionately several of those around her.

She again looked behind her, but the room was still empty.

As she gazed again at the sight in wonder, she saw that there were dozens of nymphs gathered at her feet, and climbing her legs with the cute intensity only the little ones ever displayed.

The mirror was not reflecting what was real in the classroom, that much was clear. Nor was it merely adding things to what it reflected, for it did not show her as the human child she appeared.

“Is that really me?” she asked in wonder. She stepped closer. Was the mirror a window, a portal, to another world? She slowly pressed a hand against the cool surface. She could feel a very faint tingle of magic in the cold glass, but nothing else.

She stepped back and studied the frame. The clawed feet held it upright and stable, but did nothing more. The frame around it was sturdy, more than a match to keeping the mirror intact and protected. The words across the top, however, were puzzling, in no language she knew.

Was this a vision of the future? No, it had shown her friends to her first — all dead, she knew. And that was in the past. She felt a wave of depression crash through her, and tears began to leak from her eyes. The mirror shimmered and blurred, and once more she could see her friends. She collapsed to the floor, crying.

Later, she sat back up and rubbed her eyes. This wasn’t helping. She took a shaky breath and studied the mirror once more. Once more, it showed her in a crowd of lings with her as a Queen ling.

So, the mirror didn’t show the true past. She had never stood with lings and the Queen Mother, and they certainly had never waved at anyone. It couldn’t be showing the future, either, as the lings appeared to see her, here and now, and respond, as well. Moreover, it had shown her in her new default-form, too, at first, before showing her as a true ling. “Is this a possible future?” she muttered. “Or a trap?” She narrowed her eyes and stared.

The figures in the mirror didn’t answer her, they merely smiled at her and whispered to themselves. And the longer she watched the more details that began to emerge. Slowly, people began to appear in the background, smiling and nudging the lings, some held young lings in their arms. Several lings changed back and forth between their forms, draping an arm over the person beside them as they did so. There were even children.

And she stood proudly smiling at them all.

Elly barely made it back to the dorm before curfew. She did remember to relock the door behind her as she left. And gently blow the dust on the floor to cover her tracks.

She didn’t know what to expect tomorrow. Each House had a party planned, she knew. And with only the train to board on Monday, the students expected the parties to last easily until curfew. There would be many sleepy students on the train home, she expected.

She wondered if she could get into the Gryffindor party — several cross-House couples were planning on attending the other’s House party — and do bit of stockpiling love. She would have to use the excuse that she wanted to pet a pony. Would it be worth the risk?

And maybe another visit to the mirror was in order.

۸-~-۸

Interlude — Dalton Barracks, Abingdon in Oxfordshire

by Rainbow Sparkles

Barry Dawber leaned back in his chair and looked at the small festive tree his family had placed in a corner of the room. He couldn’t help but grin as he looked at his wand, his parents watching a show on the telly.

He had never dreamed he would be in the position as he was. Officially able to use magic even though he wasn’t in the wizarding world.

And it had come out of nowhere — an opportunity to be a wizard after he’d had to walk away from the wizarding world. A chance to use magic once more, and in service to the Queen to boot! He was still trying to process the fact that the government knew about magic now. But that wasn’t at the top of his thoughts. Finally getting to use the talents that only a few ever possessed took that spot.

He couldn’t help but smile as he remembered.

It had started with everyone on the base being ordered out into the base’s assembly field in September. Waiting for them was Brigadier Archibald, base commander, and four staff officers. With them were two civilians. One was a nondescript man of about thirty. The other was an attractive, young, college-age woman with long two-tone purple hair that stopped at her waist. When she came closer he saw she had, rather curiously, purple, yes, purple, eyes.

She’d been wearing a casual business dress that fit to her figure a bit too well, though if she noted the stares she was getting she gave no sign of being bothered.

The base commander explained that civilians were here to search for candidates for a special project. It wouldn’t take long, so they didn’t need to worry about being gone too long from their duties. Some had been happy to hear this, others tried hard not to groan. Barry hadn’t really cared either way — something about the woman (besides her exotic beauty) had drawn his attention.

She had started walking down the lines. Sometimes, she had stopped in front of a soldier and looked them over from top to bottom. Most had managed to stand still and keep a neutral expression but a few squirmed a bit ever so slightly, he saw in the front ranks. It had been only when she reached him sometime much later that he had realized there was so much more to this woman than anyone there could imagine.

He’d felt her magic flow over him, and he saw the soft glimmer of magic just above her head, the same hue as her eyes. He’d felt his eyes go wide in surprise. It had been a long time since he’d seen magic performed. Except what he did at home when he was positive no one would see him. And even that hadn’t been that frequent, becoming less so as more time passed.

Everyone else she inspected had earned a simple headshake. He, however, had earned a smile and a nod. The Colonel accompanying them had instructed Barry to fall out and wait for further instructions by the viewing stand.

It took only another ten minutes before she had finished. But not before she’d found an NCO officer from the base’s infirmary. The officer, a woman, gave Barry a nervous smile as she joined him off to the side. He had a feeling he knew why she was standing beside him as well.

Then had come the interview in Base headquarters. They were done separately, of course. He’d almost wanted to call it an interrogation, but the innocence of the smiling witch made it hard to see it as such. The man with her turned out to be from M.I. 5 and impressed upon him that anything that was said or done in that interview room was under the auspices to Secrecy Act. He wasn’t to talk of it to anyone.

The base commander, himself, had assured Barry that he wasn’t in trouble.

After giving quite a few vague answers to their questions, the two revealed to him that they knew that his post-primary education had been at a school called Hogwarts. And that the full name of the school was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He had, naturally, denied that until the man had pulled a picture from his pocket of several students, in robes, standing in front of Hogwarts’ main gates, waving. Three witches in it had rather unusual hair colours. And yes, it was a wizarding picture. The students were moving.

That was when he capitulated. “But I’m a loyal British soldier!” he had been sure to say.

Then they’d revealed to him that the woman across the table from him was not, in fact, just a witch. He had been rather startled by her sudden transformation into a unicorn pony with a pink coat and two-toned purple mane and tail. And a tattoo on her flank of three diamonds, or at least gemstones.

The man, a squib, had provided extra assurances that Barry had nothing to worry about in regards to the Statute of Secrecy. There were no muggles in the room.

With that out of the way, Barry had told them about his experiences in the wizarding world. He had told them about how he’d gotten a letter from Hogwarts, his time spent there, and his first two years in the wizarding world after graduating. That had been just around the end of the Seventies and into the early Eighties, when a fair bit of trouble had been going on in the wizarding world.

And despite his above-average scores on the NEWTs, he hadn’t been able to find anyone who would employ him for long. The two, combined, had made him grow more than a bit dissatisfied with things. If he’d had a good job he might have stuck it out. But with only a menial job and the threat of attack hovering in the background, he’d headed back to the muggle world. Lacking a Secondary Degree, he had decided to pursue his first dream — to follow in his granddad’s steps and become a soldier. He’d barely interacted with the wizarding world since, only staying in contact with an old friend of his from school.

The two civilians had explained that real aliens . . .

“Wait, you’re not an animagi?” he’d asked, startled into leaning forward.

She had smiled, which had been a decidedly weird, and cute, look on a pony, and replied. “No, this is my normal form.”

That had been shocking news, and he almost thought they were pranking him — but the scene on the parade ground and the picture argued against that.

They had explained what was going on. And how, with the help of the Equestrians, they were looking for people like him to help them figure out how best to make use of this new “Energy” and the “Special Technology” that was built around it.

That, and that he could be one of the first to take a job in this new group as a transfer to a new division in the Army.

He’d said yes, without a moment’s hesitation. They’d handed him his new orders on the spot. He would be the new third member of their team.

And then he had returned to his flat, and dug out his wand. He’d put it away in a cabinet and tried to forget about it. He hadn’t done more than play with it in years, and had felt discouraged that all his training with it was going to waste. His hands had shaken with excitement as he thought about all the good he could do now with his abilities . . . especially his understanding of runes.

He had laughed a bit to himself at what the two had called it — new “Energy” and the “Special Technology,” indeed. That was certainly one way to think of it, a very muggle way, too, as a few of his teachers would have suggested.

Even amidst all the excitement he had felt, there still had been some worry, some fears and doubts. They’d told him to retrieve his wand and bring it with him the following morning when they came by to pick him up. He had hoped, at the time, that wherever they were going was safe from the detection spells of the Ministry — he hadn’t any desire to lose his wand, or end up in Azkaban. He certainly didn’t want to be obliviated either, especially as he’d be losing a great many happy memories that he cherished.

He needn’t have worried.

And he had had so many questions about these Equestrians. He had wondered why they were working with the Muggles and not the Wizards. And why what the two governments were doing hadn’t been picked up yet by anyone in the wizarding world. He hadn’t believed that the Ministry was really so incompetent after so many years. Or were they just so focused inward that something like this, even in the most remote sense, just didn’t occur to them?

He hadn’t been sure how the Magical world would react when it became obvious what was going on. From what Miss Star had mentioned, it had sounded only like a matter of time until the Wizards and Witches found out. And by then, it’d probably be too late.

Right then, though . . . none of that had mattered to Barry. His face had broken into a wide smile as he had closed his eyes and pushed his magic through the wand. He had let out a happy shout as his alarm clock turned into a rabbit.

He had still had it in him!

And over the last four months he had certainly put his talents and wand to use. He had to admit, as turned his wand over and over in his hands, that this was shaping up to be the best Christmas in over a decade.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

Special thanks to

Rainbow Sparkle

for this gem. I made a few changes to flesh out the scenes (like making it Dalton Barracks, identifying Miss Star, and changed the tenses for the place in the story, etc.), so any errors are mine.

90 — Truth

The train trip was boring after the first few minutes. While there was the anticipation of being at home for the hols, there wasn’t the glee and dread of the ride to Hogwarts. It was a bit of a tight fit for the Gryffindor Firsties, at first, as ten of them crammed themselves into the cabin. Seven of them becoming much smaller ponies solved that issue. Scootaloo was more than willing to “sacrifice” her seat in favour of hovering overhead and perching on the luggage rack, which further reduced the crowding.

The Equestrians spent most of the time telling the others of their various adventures in Ponyville and playing Exploding Snap. There were several sceptical looks at some of the things they said, but Apple Bloom said, “Just you wait until we get there! Y’all’ll see.”

Percy was taking his position as Prefect very seriously while on the train, and scolded them for setting off the very last of Fred and George’s Filibuster fireworks.

In a surprise visit partway through the trip, Malfoy dropped by with his boyfriends, Vincent and Gregory. “Well, look who it is,” said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl. He had pulled open the compartment door. He looked over at four animagi mares sharing the seat with Harry, dismissing the others in the compartment. “Pottie and his harem.”

Harry glanced quickly at the mares on either side of him as two of the three Equestrians pressed up against him. Scootaloo landed, turned back into a witch, and glared at the intruders with her eyes narrowed.

“I’d say he’s doing better with the five of us than you are with your two boyfriends,” Scoots said, to Harry’s surprise. “At least we all are ponies, while y’all are just average wizards.”

It was Draco’s turn to narrow his eyes, and the other two boys shifted slightly. They made a show of trying to look tough. Which, if it had been Harry alone, might have been intimidating. They were, after all, much bigger and beefier than him.

“You should be careful of whom you insult,” Draco said.

Before things could go further, the twins stood up behind Scootaloo.

Smiling, Fred said, “Now, there’s no need for that.”

“We’ll be home soon and we don’t want to mar that with a fight, now do we?” added George.

“Yes, let’s end this year on a friendly note.”

“Gryffindors and Slytherins. Here, have some treats,” said George, reaching into a pocket and holding out a handful of wrapped sweets from Honeydukes.

Draco’s accomplices eagerly grabbed a few as Draco frowned and slowly accepted the remainder. Draco suspiciously looked at the twins. Vincent had already eagerly unwrapped a sweet and was chewing it vigorously. Gregory was not far behind and already unwrapping a second piece. Finally, with a disdainful sniff he closed the door.

Fred grinned widely while Ron burst out laughing. The others realized a prank had been played, but what?

George sound-proofed and locked the door.

Fred, still grinning, said, “The special ones?”

“Yep. Draco and friends will now enjoy the trip home as girls.”

“They’re timed to kick off in fifteen minutes,” explained Fred.

“And last an hour each, unless you take several at once.”

“So, for them, at least until we get to London.”

“Maybe even until bedtime.”

They all broke up laughing at that revelation.

۸- ̫ -۸

Harry was surprised, at first, when he saw Bonbon and Lyra waiting for them when they got off of the train in London. Then he realized that of course they would. They were supposed to be Harry’s and the fillies’ minders. He was annoyed however, that the two had probably made the trip instantly, or nearly so, from Hogwarts while the students had to make the trip on the train, wasting most of the day.

It took some time, but they finally corralled the Weasleys. Bonbon opened Harry’s trunk on the platform, and the group quickly made their way inside to floo-travel to Little Whinging.

It was only when they exited the floo that he realized they could have done this on the train. Or better, in Hogsmeade. Then Bonbon or Lyra could have used the floo at the Three Broomsticks’ to floo directly from Hogsmeade! Messing with the train was completely unnecessary.

He sighed and shook his head, resisting the urge to face-palm. Next time, they would do that. Then they could spend the extra time with their relatives. Which they all would enjoy.

They were overjoyed to find their relatives waiting for them as they exited the trunk in the sitting-room in Little Whinging. Bonbon and Lyra watched, amused and happy, as the fillies hugged their sisters. Harry hugged Twilight and then Spike. Spike had grown only a little, much the same as Harry had.

Myrtle appeared a little wistful as she watched. Then she was in the middle of attention as the other adults were introduced.

The Weasleys had met all of the adult ponies at The Burrow in August. They exchanged their hellos, smiling as they watched the reunions.

“Before we go through the portal, you’ll need to leave your trunks here. You won’t need anything in them. Don’t worry about clothes on the other side, we’ll provide everything you need. Anything you want to take through, just put into these,” Twilight said, gesturing at the saddlebags on a table.

It took them several minutes to transfer their homework assignments and other incidentals to the new bags, which they held awkwardly. Harry and the fillies were watching and giggling.

Then the group went outside. The streetlights clearly illuminated the area, with the lights from the Embassy shining brightly.

The Weasleys had seen the house at Eleven Magnolia Crescent, but not since the Embassy had been built. And while Harry and the fillies had told them of it, they hadn’t realized just how big the new building was. Nor that the former number Eleven Magnolia Crescent was no longer there. Their exit-trunk had been moved to an identical house on Wisteria Walk.

“Blimey!” said George.

“It’s as big as Hogwarts!” said Ron.

“It’s bloody huge!” was Fred’s contribution.

“Merlin!” whispered Myrtle.

Even Percy managed a soft “ ’Cor,” as they gazed at the side of the white-marble building across the street from them. It was almost as impressive in the gathering dark as the Castle had been when they had first seen it as eleven-year-olds crossing the lake.

Magnolia Crescent now cut through a wide lawn in front the Embassy. The houses that had lined it were long gone.

The official front of the wide, U-shaped building faced that road, and they could see from the lights that it was four stories tall. The far wing of the building was three-stories tall, the near wing was merely two. A tall, well-lit wall swept from the corner of the building to Privet Drive where there was a large gate. The wall continued until it met the Wisteria Estate perimeter wall. There were several illuminated windows in that last section that indicated it was actually the side of a building. Poking well above the enclosing wall was the crystal dome that covered the portal, softly glowing from its interior lights.

Harry saw that all the houses along Magnolia Crescent were gone. As was the street itself, which would have been between the Wisteria Walk and the Embassy. What was left was an enormous park-like area with large plots of flowers everywhere. Even the houses that had faced south towards Wisteria Walk were gone, except for the twenty or thirty that now faced the new building across the street. Harry looked between the buildings to see the perimeter wall behind them.

In fact, out of the several hundred homes that had made up Wisteria Estate he could only see the ones behind him. All the houses that had been on Magnolia Crescent and Privet Drive were also gone — replaced by the building far behind the Embassy and close to the portal tree, and the new recreational area. The remaining houses, he decided, must be living quarters for the important workers in the Embassy. No doubt the regular workers were housed inside one of the Embassy’s wings.

And everything looked as if it had been there for years.

Percy said, “But I thought you lived in a Muggle area?” He clearly remembered seeing all the houses.

“We did, originally, but we bought all the homes here in Wisteria Estate. And built this Embassy building and walls to protect the portal. The Ministry even has this entire area listed as a wizarding estate,” Twilight explained. “And, of course, we are very careful about our magic, and the charms make the muggles think everything is just as it should be. No one ever sees anything they shouldn’t see.”

Percy nodded in understanding, relaxing now that he understood the laws and regulations were being followed.

They passed through the narrow building, taking a zig-zag path. They were carefully examined by the guards before being allowed farther. Once they were in the enclosed area, they saw that the U-shaped building had been designed and positioned to give the portal-tree maximum sunlight. And maximum protection from interference. Although, being inside a crystal dome, winds would never be a problem. Lights currently kept the area reasonably well-illuminated for them. And made the dome shine in the night.

There were trees near the portal and bushes to provide root-coverage, but nothing like the barely tamed forest that had once covered the area. There were clear lines of sight, and in certain places he could see guards watching or patrolling.

The area bounded by the building would easily cover two football fields, maybe three. In fact, he was sure he could see a baseball pitch at one side, and a quidditch pitch over another part with a hoofball court below it! Modest seating stands for watching the games were built into the building, both at ground level for the baseball and hoofball fans and on the roofs of the buildings for the Quidditch fans. There were even dugouts and changing rooms for the players.

It wasn’t often that Harry had seen the Weasleys struck dumb. Ron and the twins took special notice of the darkened Quidditch pitch. The fillies giggled at their expressions.

Twilight watched, amused, and said “Some of the pegasi have said that discovering Quidditch, alone, justifies contacting you through the portal.”

The Weasleys all stared at her a moment, unsure if she was joking.

The adults herded the children towards the portal dome, which had a small guard building attached.

The entrance to the crystal dome in the building was . . . interesting. It was actually a huge revolving door, easily five yards high, in a cylindrical housing. It divided the cylinder into four sections with only two sections fully accessible at a time. It was big enough for their entire group to go into the open section facing them at the same time. The door stopped at the quarter-turn point, trapping them into the triangular shaped space, as another security check was made that they were who they said they were. Then it completed its turn to let the people out. The security check was in both directions.

Like the Equestrian side, there was now a spiralling deck around the tree leading to the actual portal building around the tree. The building was divided in half, each section angled so that the guards in the building at the revolving door could see straight through to the tree. And was well-lit with a solid roof.

No one would be sneaking, or flying, through the portal without being seen by several guards.

“As the signs indicate,” Twilight said, once they were in the building, “On this side is the changing room for females and on the other is the changing room for the males. Please put on the robes you find inside, and place your clothes in a basket for storage and retrieval when we return. There is an inside pocket in the robes for your wands if you aren’t wearing a wand holster.”

“Change clothes?” said George.

“Why do we need to change clothes?” said Fred.

The other new visitors were just as puzzled.

Twilight smiled. “This portal takes you to Equestria and there will be problems if you are wearing your normal clothes. When you go through, it will change you to a pony. However, unlike an animagus change, your clothes won’t be included. And you’ll end up tripping and falling or otherwise hurting yourself. Or you’ll ruin your clothes. The robes are to maintain your modesty during the transition, and allow you to carry your possessions without tripping you up on either side of the portal.”

Myrtle looked at the saddlebags she was holding and smiled.

The twins looked at each other, shrugged, and went inside, followed by the other wizards. The witches went through the other door.

A minute later, Harry was looking at the sign hanging overhead that said, “Sweet Apple Acres.” He took a breath and walked into the tree. A flash of wood shot by him then he clomped down onto all fours, the robe hanging easily on his back and out of the way of his legs. He grabbed his saddlebag in his magic and darted forward a yard and started to remove the robe. He planned to store his wand and holster in his room while they were here. After all, with a horn, why did he need to carry a wand?

As he did so, the others began to come through behind him. The Weasleys and Myrtle were dumbfounded, yet again. They stared at the guard ponies in the pavilion, and the end of the spiral walkway, who were watching them. And at the towering illuminated walls in the background around them. That the guards all had swords and spears was startling.

And they were all ponies.

Myrtle almost immediately face-planted, unused to being on four legs. Sweetie Belle and Harry quickly went to her rescue. They helped the new unicorn upright and to one side so she didn’t block the portal. They stood on either side of her and used their magic to hold her up while they removed her robe and settled her saddlebags into place.

“Hey!” said George, almost immediately after arriving, looking at his hooves.

“Why can’t we change?” said Fred, with an expression of concentration.

The other Weasleys coming behind them made similar exclamations as they stared around in surprise. Besides being unable to transform, Harry could almost bet that they had been expecting something else entirely, something other than a well-lit open-air pavilion in a park-like setting.

It was not a duplicate of the building on the other side of the portal. There was, however, a crystal dome over the tree and decking around it.

The fillies and their sisters giggled at the Weasleys’ expressions.

Twilight turned to face the wizards, and witch, smiled and extended her wings. “Welcome to Equestria!” she said, echoing the print on the sign not far from the portal. “As to your question, well, as I understand it, the portal actually changes your base form if you have enough magic when you go through it. As a result, in Equestria wizards and witches, even squibs, are ponies just like the rest of us. And ponies do not have another form as wizards and witches do on Earth, so you can’t change from it. That does not mean you can’t be transformed with a spell, however. There are numerous spells to change a pony’s form, but we rarely use them.”

The Weasleys and Myrtle were staring at Twilight as if she were mad.

“Wait a minute,” said George, eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean, our base form is as a pony?” said Fred suspiciously.

“Just like the rest of you?” finished George.

“This is Atlantis, isn’t it?”

Myrtle had braced her four legs and wasn’t trying to walk. She didn’t want to fall and miss this discussion. She listened closely as she stared at Twilight intently.

Twilight frowned and looked at Harry and the fillies questioningly. They shrugged. Bonbon and Lyra were both looking away, in different directions, feigning disinterest, Harry noticed. After dealing with the fillies on a daily basis, he could tell the two adults were not as innocent as they were trying to appear.

Twilight sighed. “I thought it was obvious. We’re Equestrians on the planet Equus. The portal connects our world to yours. We are not simply another country on your world.”

Their jaws dropped at those four sentences. Even Myrtle froze in place, and just hung in Sweetie Belle’s and Harry’s magic hold.

“But our father said Dumbledore says you’re from Atlantis!” said Percy incredulously, the other Weasleys nodding agreement.

The purple alicorn rolled her eyes. “I haven’t a clue where he came by that idea,” she said. “I’ve never said that. Nor did any pony else.” She glanced at Harry and the Equestrians, who shook their heads.

She sighed and started pacing. “When we first made contact we were worried about how you might react to us. Your wizarding history books and fiction didn’t exactly promise that we would be well-received. Quite the contrary, actually, because we obviously aren’t humans. You even forbid non-humans to own or use wands. And just look at how you divide your people between muggles and magicals! So, we didn’t come right out and say we were from another world — it was risky enough saying we were from another country. Even the prejudices I read about only being ‘foreigners’ were quite upsetting.

“Our priority is to protect Harry and the fillies in your world. And, before you ask, we were there because your world is Harry’s world. We, that is the Princesses and I, felt it would be better if he had a chance to see what his world was really like. After all, before his letter, he didn’t know his world even had magic, so it wasn’t an issue. He preferred here with magic over there without.”

The Weasleys nodded. They understood how it was so much better to have magic than not. Giving it up was simply not imaginable.

“When we discovered there was magic there, it felt only right that he should have a chance to experience it himself. And it wouldn’t be fair to deny him his heritage when we could easily accommodate him. Plus, then he could make an informed choice as to if he wanted to permanently return or not.”

She paused a moment. “Fortunately, the magic at Hogwarts accepted our base form as human and not as pony-turned-human, and issued invitation letters to the fillies.”

The three fillies struck what they thought were inspiring poses.

“Anyway, we said we were from Ponyville and did not mention Equestria as the country we were from. We allowed you — and by you I mean the adults we talked to — to think we were from another country on your world. It would be much better to be considered foreigners than non-humans.”

She grimaced. “But we’re not diplomats, trained to watch everything we say with an eye towards keeping secrets. We made a few mistakes, such as saying we were from Equestria when Princess Luna took care of the basilisk, and that we used a portal to get here.” She sighed. “I knew you never had a nation called Equestria in your history and I thought Chief Warlock Dumbledore realized we were from another world after that incident.”

“We didn’t exactly keep it a secret, especially when the teachers from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns visited for so long. I mean, the diet questions alone should have indicated we weren’t humans. Not to mention our just as obvious clumsiness with manipulating things with our hands. And walking.” She rolled her eyes, “Unless he thinks all ‘Atlanteans’ are naturally exceedingly clumsy.”

She paused and looked at the Weasleys, who all shook their heads.

“But how do you explain all the Greek references?” exclaimed Percy. “Tartarus, centaurs, dragons, griffons, cockatrices, and chimeras?”

She sighed glumly.

“I believe that there have been other portals between your world and ours. And especially one in Greece a very long time ago. And all those creatures crossed-over to your world, creating those legends. Or perhaps they were native to your world and fled to our world because it seemed more welcoming.” She shrugged. “Until we read your books, we thought all those creatures were known only to our world.”

The fillies and their sisters were grinning fit to end the world.

The wizards and witches stared at her.

Rainbow Dash stared at Percy. “You mean everyone thinks Equestria is a part of the Earth?” she asked, incredulous.

At the wizards’ slow nods she began to laugh. “That’s rich!” She laughed so hard she had to land. “And that we’re people who can turn into ponies at will?” She sat down laughing. Scootaloo and the fillies quickly joined her. Harry found it impossible not to grin. He had warned Twilight that the Headmaster thought they were from Atlantis.

The twins looked at each other, carefully. They were used to their animagus forms, but a second check was in order. They would sort that out later. After a moment, they both grinned and Fred said, “So this is Atlantis, isn’t it?” and made a production out of looking around them.

“Yeah, the Greeks just thought they were on Earth when they really went to Equestria,” said George.

They nodded simultaneously. “This is Atlantis!” they declared, bumping their hooves in a pony version of a high-five.

Twilight looked at them, puzzled. Harry and the others simply face-hoofed — there were a few “ows” as a result. Hooves were a good deal harder than hands.

“Okay,” the princess said as Rainbow subsided into giggles. “This is the truth. This is an entirely different world, not Atlantis. Maybe even a different universe. Not a country or place from Earth. The portal changes magical beings that pass through it to whatever the native lifeform is that is of equivalent intelligence.”

It was quiet as the newcomers took a few moments to digest that information. Then the George repeated, “Right, that’s what George said.”

“This is Atlantis, but you all call it Equestria,” said Fred.

“It’s clear as glass,” said George. “This,” he swung a fore-hoof, “is Atlantis!”

They grinned at the purple alicorn Princess.

The other wizards and witches just looked confused.

Harry sighed. He knew that when they returned the twins would spread the word as far and wide as they could that the Equestrians were really and truly from Atlantis. But that the Equestrians called it Equestria. That it was on a separate world they would leave out. It would be a master prank on the entire wizarding world, and also be pranking the Equestrians. The muggles would know they were from another world, not Atlantis, but the wizards would insist they were from the continent of Atlantis, not another world.

Pranking two worlds at the same time. No prank could ever top this.

Thinking about it made his head hurt.

Twilight hung her head and shook it in disbelief.

Percy asked abruptly, “What about Spike? Why is he a dragon?” He frowned deeper, “He is a dragon here, right?”

“My current theory,” Twilight said, looking back up and nodding, “is that because there are magical dragons on Earth, he wasn’t changed. And that we ponies changed because while you do have magical horses, ponies in your world have a different genome and are not magical. Thus, it changed us into humans — wizards and witches — whose animagus form is a pony.”

“You mean that while we’re visiting here, we’ll only be ponies?” asked Ron uncertainly. “That we won’t have hands?” He looked down at his fore-hooves, then over at his brothers and sister. He was clearly unsure of how to take that information.

Twilight nodded. “Yes, but that won’t be as big a problem as you think. Just ask Apple Bloom. And the pegasi use their wing-tips as fingers,” she said to Ginny. “While the unicorns use their magic to pick up and do things,” she said to the twins and Myrtle.

The witch extended her wing and looked at it doubtfully. The twins and Myrtle went cross-eyed for a moment looking at their horns, then grinned mischievously.

Percy sighed and rubbed his head with a hoof.

Twilight grinned at him. “Don’t worry, you know you can use your wand to lift and move things here even though you’re an earth pony.” She floated his wand out of his pocket and stuck it to the cannon bone on his right fore-leg. “Just point your hoof at what you want to move, and use your wand to do the work!” she said floating his robe to a nearby rack.

He stared down at his leg for a moment, brow furrowed, thinking.

While he was doing that, Twilight repeated the process with Ron. The fillies and their sisters had already done that and were helping the other Weasley children and Myrtle.

Ron pointed at a leaf on the grass with his hoof/wand combination. It gently floated up. He grinned as he stood straight and the leaf drifted back to the grass.

“Well,” Twilight said, breaking the Weasleys out of their contemplation of their wands, “We need to move on.” She turned and started leading the way, following the spiral.

Rainbow darted up beside her, hovering lazily at head-height, and said, “Can’t I just meet you at the gate?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “No, you cannot. You have to follow the decking. And no flying until we leave the Portal Exclusion Zone.”

“But walking is so booorrriiing!” Dash said, clomping down on the deck beside the purple alicorn.

“We don’t want a repeat of the changeling, do we?”

“Nooo,” said Rainbow, drawing the word out, dejected.

Harry felt his ears perk up. She had sent him a letter that a changeling had snuck through the portal, but hadn’t said how. He suspected the increased security around the portal was because of that, but that was all. He would ask her for more information later.

Seeing how much the area around the portal had changed, on both sides, Harry was very impressed. The effort they had expended in making it impossible to slip through undetected was incredible. However, based on what the others had said about the changelings, and his own suspicious nature, it was very necessary. The changelings were a very competent foe, when they wanted to be. They had, after all, managed to stay hidden for uncounted centuries.

He heard Scootaloo and Ginny sigh behind him as their hooves also clomped down on the deck, following Dash’s lead. He couldn’t help but smirk, they’d have to walk just like the rest.

It took several minutes to trot around the spiral and move through the revolving door at the end to exit the dome. Once more they were checked by security before being cleared to head for the Partition-wall gate.

Sweetie Belle and Harry walked on either side of Myrtle to help her keep her balance, and used their magic just to keep her from tripping. Myrtle was concentrating too much on not bashing her muzzle into the ground to notice anything else.

Harry thought the Weasleys didn’t notice the hospital building. On the other hoof, maybe they didn’t realize what it was, and what it meant to the muggles.

And they had been too distracted by their new discoveries to question what happened to muggles when they went through the portal.

۸- ̫ -۸

91 — Holiday Surprises

Author's Note

Hit 1,200 Likes!
Here’s a chapter to celebrate!
Next goal, 1,300 Likes for an extra chapter!

91 — Holiday Surprises

The partition-wall gate was another checkpoint. There wouldn’t be any additional ‘dashing through the portal’ trips as Sweetie Belle had done back in September.

The walk to Sweet Apple Acres would have been boring if not for all the catching up the sisters had to do. It had been a rather quiet Autumn in Equestria, for the Mane Six. The final checkpoint was, again, boring. But, for Harry, it was nice to see the ponies were taking things so seriously. He knew how one simple mistake could turn into a catastrophe. He only had to think of his Cutie Mark Crusades to know that.

Rainbow and Scootaloo took off immediately. “Your Aunts can hardly wait to see you! Come on Scoots! I think your parents might be there, too,” they heard Dash say just as the two disappeared into the dark.

Which drew their immediate attention to the bright moon overhead, and the fantastic spread of stars that had been hidden by the bright lights around the portal buildings. The visitors’ jaws dropped as it was driven home that they were well and truly on a different world. They came to a complete stop and just stared at the night sky.

Both the full moon and constellations were unlike those that they saw on the other side of the portal.

Although it was a full moon — it was hard to tell if it was two days past as was the moon back home — the size and features they saw on it were completely different. And while they were used to the Milky Way stretching overhead, here different nebulae clearly dominated the sky. The Milky Way was not in evidence.

As they stared, they saw several meteors streak across the sky. Then came a stunning meteor shower that made them wonder if any stars would be left in the sky. It culminated in four bolides that streaked overhead and exploded spectacularly. And then the smaller pieces exploded. And then exploded again. The booms took almost a full minute to arrive.

Twilight chuckled and shook her head, still looking up. “Luna has certainly planned a beautiful welcome home,” she said, “hasn’t she?”

As the meteor-streaks faded out they again saw the stars in the sky. Outlined across one side of the sky were a series of easily discernible constellations that could only be all four of the CMC, with appropriate coloured nebulae behind them.

Quietly, almost too quietly to be heard, Percy asked, “Princess Luna did all that?”

Harry could hear Myrtle and the twins gulp beside them.

“Uh huh!” said Sweetie Belle, “Ever since she returned she’s given us a different sky every night.” They could hear the awe and joy in her voice as she added, “But she’s never put me and the other Crusaders up there!”

Harry surreptitiously rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t crying, there was a bit of dirt there.

Twilight laughed lightly, as did Rarity and Applejack.

The twins were exchanging looks and Harry heard George whisper to Fred, “And they said Discord is even more powerful than that!”

The short trip to the Apple’s farmhouse was just that. Myrtle and the Weasleys spent a good portion of it tripping over every pebble and leaf of grass on the way. Except for Ginny, who kept flying into trees. They were too busy staring at the sky and spotting constellations. And contemplating the power needed to rearrange it every night.

“The only constant,” Twilight explained as she pointed out different features in the sky, “is the Sailor’s Ship that marks the North Pole. See the sailing ship there with a circle of six stars in it? The star in the middle is the North Star, Faust.” She sighed softly. “That’s so the ships at sea will never get lost.”

۸-_-۸

Granny’s first words when they arrived at the farm house were, “Land sakes, Ah kin see yer ribs! Y’all look like ya haven’t eaten in days. Come on in here and eat!” she promptly ordered them.

The new arrivals were stunned at Big Mac’s size, he made them all look small — just as Hagrid did. And how thin they looked, too. All of them were barely bigger than Harry, even tall Percy. Yes, they were used to their pony appearances at Hogwarts, but they thought that was normal. They hadn’t seen enough of the Canterlot group at Hogwarts to draw any conclusions, but now they could! Even Granny looked bigger than they were.

And the spread on the table rivalled that of The Burrow when their Mom was on a cooking tear or the house-elves at Hogwarts had a special feast.

Except it was all vegetarian. Not a bit of beef, fat, or gravy on the table.

Instead it was piled high with cakes, pies, tarts, and every food they could think of that had apple in its name. Big Mac and Applejack eagerly attacked the spread.

“Jest use your hooves to pick things up,” Applejack said, demonstrating.

Big Mac nodded encouragingly.

They were wide-eyed at seeing the big pony picking things up with a finesse that they had a hard time believing. Hesitant, at first, then with enthusiasm, the newcomers dug into the spread. Mistakes were ignored.

The others quietly laughed or chuckled at their expressions.

It was a well-fed group that headed on into Ponyville later. Applejack and Apple Bloom stayed at home, of course, and Sweetie Belle and Rarity dropped out at the Carousel Boutique. The Weasleys and Myrtle were astonished at the gorgeous crystal castle that was Twilight’s and Harry’s home.

Twilight barely had time to show them to their bedrooms before they were fast asleep.

Harry knew they wouldn’t have to struggle to get Myrtle to stay here over the summer hols.

The next morning Spike treated everyone to a breakfast of pancakes. The twins were vastly amused by the sight of a dragon wearing a frilly apron and serving them. The rest were just slack-jawed at the thought that a fierce dragon was happily fixing them breakfast. They spent most of the morning exploring the bright and cheerful castle. Harry spent it with Twilight and Spike. The fillies were noticeable by their absence. It sort of made Harry nervous. What were they getting into? Or planning that would get them another grounding at home?

And, he discovered, Myrtle had a camera. Apparently, one of her Ravenclaw friends had loaned her his. He had insisted she take a few pictures, to commemorate the start of her new life. And, not incidentally, perhaps capture a few candid pictures of what life was really like in Ponyville — There were still quite a few people who thought the foreigners were exaggerating.

On their way to Pinkie’s Welcome-to-Equestria party later that afternoon, Myrtle was quite busy taking pictures of the unusual buildings that dotted Ponyville. The pony idea of building styles left them breathless. The styles were definitely not anything the wizards and witches had seen at home.

The party itself was a surprise. They had expected something simple, a few friends of the Equestrians. The reality was stunning.

The party took up the area in front of Ponyville town hall. And it definitively showed them the difference between people and ponies — they were welcomed with open forelegs and generous smiles. And tables groaned under the weight of all the snacks and food.

The Weasleys couldn’t imagine the wizards and witches throwing a party of such magnitude for six strangers simply visiting Hogsmeade!

At first, they thought Pinkie was pranking them when she insisted on playing what they considered children’s party games. But they quickly discovered that she was serious. And no pony said the games were silly or beneath their station — they just enjoyed them. Although the twins did keep trying to pin the tail on their older brother.

The fillies and Ginny pulled Harry out to the dance floor, which he found oddly fun. And, for some reason he couldn’t figure out, Myrtle always grinned at him and laughed when he happened to see her.

Myrtle and the others were very amazed at the competition between the mares for any particular stallion’s attention. And that several mares danced with a stallion at one time.

Although, watching the stallions and mares dance was unlike anything they had ever seen at home. They had expected the ponies to dance on all fours, and many did. What they hadn’t expected were the ponies to dance on their back hooves, as if they were bipedal! And do so quite well.

Myrtle spent most of her time beside the treats table, not trusting her legs to keep her from tripping and face-planting over every pebble. That was on all-fours. She shuddered to imagine, she told Harry, how often she would fall if she tried balancing on two! He tried to convince her it wasn’t as difficult as she thought, without success.

But she wasn’t alone at the table by any stretch of imagination. There was a constant crowd around her asking about the world on the other side of the portal.

Scootaloo, Ginny, Apple Bloom, Ron, and Percy quickly became centre stars. The ponies watched in awe at them using their wands to do magic just like a unicorn did. While the discoveries from the portal were getting a lot of press, to actually see unicorn-like magic being cast by earth ponies and pegasi was captivating. Then seeing the more complex spells the visitors knew, that most unicorns didn’t, was positively revolutionary.

And the twins discovered kindred souls in Rainbow and Pinkie as a prank war launched into full swing. Dash and Pinkie found that the twins could give as well as they got, even if their magic was a bit unsteady. Which included tricking the two ponies into sampling their short-term candies. All four were delighted at the results.

The rest of the party goers were just glad that the pranksters were focused on each other instead of them.

When there weren’t any adults close enough to get her in trouble, Diamond Tiara had to put in her two-bits and called the newcomers “blank-flanks.” Her friend, Silver Spoon seemed a bit more cautious and hid partially behind Diamond.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Fred said, staring at the filly with furrowed brows.

“Yes, my brother, she seems to think that not having a butt-tattoo matters,” George replied.

They both craned their necks to look at hers. Seeing where they were looking, she turned sideways to proudly show off her cutie mark. Silver Spoon hesitantly copied her.

“Imagine that,” George said.

“Where we come from,” Fred said, “showing someone your butt in public . . .”

“. . . is considered an insult in and of itself.”

The two ponies looked horrified.

Things devolved from there and the two fillies found themselves burping red and gold bubbles whenever they tried to say something for the rest of the afternoon. As well as having a slight gas problem — coloured bright-purple so no one could miss it. And became colts, to their intense disgust, after eating a couple candies that just happened to appear on the treat table just as they were looking for a bite to eat.

And Ponyville’s residents now knew to be wary when the twins were in sight.

۸-_-۸

Elly was surprised at how long it took the train to arrive in London, compared to her floo-travel to Hogsmeade earlier in the year. Which further pounded home the fact that floo-travel would revolutionize Equestria — and make former ling tactics impossible to execute safely. And the train itself put the trains in Equestria to shame in terms of both speed and size. Although why they used a train instead of the floo left her puzzled. Watching the country-side go by was educational as she began to understand just how many humans there were in the world.

Putting those thoughts aside, she was very pleased at what she found when the train arrived in London. Just as she had hoped, Mr. and Mrs. Abbott had missed their daughter and their reunion was very emotional. While it wasn’t as much as she would get from ponies in a similar situation, it was by no means a piddling amount. So she was more than happy to stand beside them as they hugged and kissed each other.

They were, naturally, cautious at meeting her, much more so than ponies. But she was beginning to understand from her time at Hogwarts that wizards and witches were not inherently as emotional. And it wasn’t because wizardkind matured so much later than lings, or even ponies. It was just the way they were.

Still, the Abbotts welcomed her into their home. Unpacking was quick, just a few clothes, then they had their dinner. Hannah told her parents she was starved and could eat a horse! Elly had stared, wide-eyed, at her ‘friend’ for several moments before she had realized it had been an exaggeration.

Sitting at the dinner table, she practiced the table manners she had learned from the books in the library. And basked in the warm glow that surrounded her as the parents appreciated the return of their daughter. And their daughter loved being with her parents once more.

Elly wasn’t hungry in the slightest, the scene at the station had taken care of her needs for meal. So, the extra love was frugally stored away for future needs. If this continued throughout the holiday, she would actually have extra when they returned to the school, maybe enough to off-load into a jar. She hoped it would be.

She just listened as the family caught up on their news. And, after four months’ absence, the love flowed freely between them. And she took what she needed without anyone being the wiser. After dinner, they adjourned to the sitting-room for another hour or so.

Unlike the Common Rooms at Hogwarts, here she had a reason for sitting near her sources of love — she was a guest and it would be rude to chase her away. That she chose to always sit close to them was not remarked upon. They probably assumed it had something to do with her ‘tragic’ background. Not that they could understand the true depth of her losses.

When it came to the subject of her relatives, she tried to downplay it as much as possible. She wanted her backstory to be as simple as she could keep it. The fewer details she gave out, the fewer chances of someone tripping her up in the future. Or discovering that it was made up entirely. Considering it was “just so tragic,” according to the students at Hogwarts, it wasn’t that hard to convince the Abbotts not to touch the subject.

There wasn’t a curfew, like at school, of course, but the others all claimed to be really tired. As a result, they retired to their rooms for the night. That she had her own room was a bit of surprise. She had expected to share with Hannah.

She put up a silencing spell as soon as she could. Then she off-loaded her reserves into a storage jar and put it in her trunk. It was nowhere near full, but she wanted to be ready for tomorrow. And then she took down the spell. No need to make the others suspicious at what she was doing.

Breakfast was quick the next morning, as Hannah wanted to buy presents for her friends. She could have owl-ordered them at Hogwarts, but then she would have had to bring them home. It was much easier to simply wait until she arrived home. And, although she didn’t say so, it gave Elly an opportunity to also purchase presents while consulting with Hannah on what would be appropriate for young English witches and wizards.

As a result, she spent most of the day in Diagon Alley with Hannah. The witch was more than happy to help her select appropriate presents for their friends at school. Which were mostly gifts of chocolate and small trinkets Hannah told her the others might like.

Then they dropped by the Owl Mail building and sent off the presents that they didn’t intend to deliver in person Christmas Day.

There wasn’t much love in the Alley that day, despite the crowds. However, Elly managed to breakeven for the day by bedtime.

All-in-all, the hols, as the wizards and witches referred to them, were shaping up to be quite enjoyable for her.

۸-_-۸

The wizards and witches were in one of the castle’s many “social” rooms that evening. They had all agreed to skip dinner. The party had left them all stuffed like Christmas gooses and they could barely move. Flying was a challenge, as Ginny and Scootaloo had discovered. Even Ron couldn’t force himself to eat more. And the twins teased everyone about the foods they had eaten.

The wizards and witches were quietly discussing the day’s events. Watching the sun drop and the moon rise so quickly reinforced just how powerful the two sisters were. The twins knew exactly how much power they used when lifting things with their horns or wands — and their limit was well below a ton.

Equestrian society, too, was quite different from what they had expected. Myrtle had quickly discovered that the outrageous flirting she had displayed in Hogwarts was considered pretty average by the mares in Ponyville. In fact, she had found herself being the one to blush during most of the party. As had all the older wizards. If she wanted to compete in this world she was going to have to step up her game!

That had been the next biggest shock after finding out the truth about “Atlantis,” as the twins insisted everyone call the place. They even corrected the others, interrupting conversations to do so.

Everyone here was very open about what they wanted, and when they wanted it. Percy had been propositioned at least two dozen times. He had been more than a little disturbed that a number of them had indicated that it was a “group” he would be joining for the evening. Ron had been too oblivious to notice the innuendo. And Harry had been more than happy to have the fillies and Ginny as a protective shield. Which they had been more than happy to provide.

It seemed that being gone for five months had increased interest in him. Plus, several older fillies considered him to be “exotic” now, and his British accent to be “dreamy.” He could only shake his head and wonder just what those fillies were thinking. Why would they be interested in him?

The twins had had mares of their own to fend off. They had thought it was just several mares trying to prank them. Until the fillies had straightened them out. That had left them wide-eyed in shock. And a bit shy. Which had, unexpectedly, increased interest in them.

In the room that evening, Harry had reaffirmed the fillies’ claims. And left all the wizards completely silent for several minutes. Ron was disgusted — girls were just boys in dresses as far as he was concerned, if they liked Quidditch. Otherwise, they were just plain icky. Ginny gave Harry a smirk that sent chills down his spine. And a funny feeling afterwards, that made him wonder why that had happened and why did the fillies seem to echo it?

“Harry,” Twilight said, poking her head into the room. She seemed a bit nervous as she rubbed one fore-leg against the other. “Could I speak to you in private a moment?”

Harry followed her down the corridor to another room. It was packed with books, and even had free-standing bookcases. Several comfortable reading areas were set up, allowing privacy when you wanted, but plenty of extra room in each if you were with others or working together.

To his surprise, Spike was waiting for them.

Twilight led him over to the dragon and gestured he should sit.

Then she paced in front of him for a moment, before sitting down as well.

“Harry,” she said. She smiled nervously and ruffled her wings. “You’ve lived with me and Spike for well over a year now.”

Spike nodded enthusiastically. He also smiled. He seemed to be a bit nervous, too.

“You’ve changed a lot since you arrived. You were a small, hurt, suspicious, little colt, and you were afraid of what was happening around you back then. You trusted no pony and met everything with doubt and wariness. You expected the worst at all times.” She took a breath and studied the floor before looking back up at him. “I’ve watched you grow up since then. You’ve become a wonderful young stallion. You’re smart, strong, and fast. You fiercely defend your friends and are not afraid to protect them from dangers. You’ve had secrets — which I don’t like — but I understand why you kept them. You’ve stood by your friends through thick and thin. You’re willing to take their punishments, or at least deflect some of the blame. Even when you shouldn’t.” She frowned, but the perked up.

“You’ve made me very proud to know you. And proud to help you become that young stallion.”

Spike tried to be supportive, but his occasional eye-rolls at what Twilight said made Harry want to laugh. But he was too embarrassed to do more than blush and look at the floor.

“Tomorrow is Hearth’s Warming Day. A time for family and friends to rejoice. But especially family. I’ve discussed this with the Princesses, and with our solicitor on the other side of the portal, and they’ve all encouraged me to go ahead.”

She cleared her throat. “The wizard solicitor I’ve talked with has said that while there would be repercussions, it’s nothing serious and wouldn’t affect either your parents’ properties or magic. Politically, it might cause some difficulties, but nothing that would really create a problem for us.”

Harry stared at her, brow furrowed. What was she going on about?

She sighed and looked at Spike. “I’m making a hash of it aren’t I?”

Spike nodded. “Just go ahead,” he said. “Dragging it out won’t make it any easier.”

She stood straight and looked at Harry, smiling timidly. “Harry, I consider you to be family. Part of my family.”

Harry grinned at that, happy that someone, at least, felt that way. His eyes began to water.

“And I hope you consider me,” she glanced at Spike, who was grinning madly, “us, well, we’re your family.” She paused and looked at Harry worriedly. “You do like us as family, right?” She rubbed her forelegs together nervously.

Harry couldn’t say anything, his throat was clogged for some reason. He nodded energetically. He blinked his eyes, trying to clear his slightly blurry sight.

Spike sighed heavily. “Twi, we don’t want this to take all night!” He turned to face Harry and stared at him intently. “What she’s trying to say . . . ,”

“Spike!” Twilight said, alarmed, stepping back and spreading her wings.

“She wants to adopt you.”

Harry stared at the little dragon, turning the words over in his mind as he tilted his head.

Adopt. You.

That meant . . . .

No, he must have misheard it. He tiled his head the other direction and frowned.

Spike sighed again. “Officially, really, adopt you,” he emphasized.

“If you don’t mind,” Twilight anxiously blurted out, folding her wings and stepping closer. “You’d be Harry Sparkle-Potter, so I’m not replacing your parents. I would never want to do that.”

He stared at the two. Not that he could see them anymore except as blurs. Twilight wants to adopt me, he thought. She wants me in her family. With Spike. Spike will be my brother. She'll be my mom. She wants me in her family.

He felt himself swaying for a moment.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Twilight said hurriedly at his blank expression. “It’s just a possib . . . urk!”

She couldn’t say anything else as Harry wrapped himself around her neck and cried, shouting, “YESYESYES!”

۸-_-۸

Harry hadn’t known such joy in all his life. Someone wanted him. Someone actually wanted him!

He’d been told all his life that he was a waste of space. That nobody loved him. Or even liked him. He didn’t deserve friends. He didn’t deserve toys. He didn’t deserve presents. He didn’t deserve life. He should have died years ago, with his parents.

He deserved to sit in a small and dark cupboard with only spiders for company.

But Princess Twilight, Twilight, wanted him! In her family! She’d be his mom! He’d be her son! They — Twilight, Spike, and him — would be a family!

Once Twilight managed to pry him off her neck he bounced around her in sheer joy. Pinkie Pie would have been hard-pressed to match his enthusiasm. He was so happy, he felt as if he would burst.

He had seen Harmony Songs in action in Ponyville, and even once in Canterlot. He had even sung in the background of several as the chorus. He had never thought he would start one. Words surged through him, music swelled out of nowhere, and he began to sing.

She wants me to be her son . . . .

It was only when the final cords of the chorus faded into silence that he saw the Weasleys and Myrtle staring around in shock. Everyone was in the entrance hall to the castle. The door guards turned and returned to their posts outside with a happy spring in their steps, and the maids returned to their duties just as pleased.

The wizards and witches were reacting as he had the first time he had seen a Harmony Song in action. Staring around at everypony and asking themselves, Did that really happen? What had happened?

He grinned at them happily.

“She’s gonna be my family,” he said, and pointed at Twilight standing beside him, blushing. “She’s gonna adopt me! It’ll be official and everything!” He once again attached himself to her neck, hugging for all he was worth. She wrapped her wings forward to hug him back.

The wizards and witches slowly began to grin in response. He could see they were happy for him. Although there were a couple of frowns as they remembered what had been said in the song about his relatives.

“Harry Sparkle?” said George into the silence.

“Sparkle Harry?” said Fred.

“Uh, no,” said Princess Twilight. “In Equestria it’ll be Harry James Sparkle-Potter, in deference to his parents. On the other side of the portal, he’ll be Harry Potter-Sparkle in deference to things regarding magic in the wizarding world.”

He leaned out of his hug for a moment and looked at Twilight. “Harry Sparkle,” he said firmly. “Here, I’m Harry Sparkle.”

She smiled at him as she regarded him fondly. “Officially, it will be Harry James Sparkle-Potter, in honour of your birth parents. How you introduce yourself is another matter.”

“Harry Sparkle,” he repeated firmly, and resumed hugging her. Then stopped and leaned back again to look in her face. “When?” he asked.

“Tomorrow, before the Hearth’s Warming play in front of the Town Hall. Princesses Celestia and Luna will be here tomorrow afternoon and they will sign the papers then.”

Harry nodded — as well as one could nod when their head was firmly pressed against somepony’s neck. He knew, of course, that the Princesses were doing this for Twilight and not him. But he didn’t care. That it was happening at all took him to the peak of happiness.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Harry, because he was too happy to pay attention and his eyes kept watering. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he thought there might have been another Harmony Song.

He spent the night with Twilight, refusing to leave his new mother’s side. The others thought it was cute.

۸-_-۸

92 — Castle-mania

The twins tried to make fun of him the next morning, Hearth’s Warming Day.

“Did the wittle baby sleep well with mommy last night?” George teased as the alicorn and colt walked into the breakfast room. Harry leaned against her side as they walked, her wing draped over him and a huge smile on his face. Her smile was only a bit smaller.

Harry sighed happily. “It was wonderful,” he said with a dreamy expression as he stared at Twilight.

Fred opened his mouth to say something, then tilted his head. He looked at his brother and shook his head. Harry was clearly far too happy with the situation to care what they or anyone else thought. Teasing wouldn’t get his attention. He’d probably consider anything they said to be a compliment.

It was, as far as Harry was concerned, the best Hearth’s Warming ever! Of course, with only one other in his experience it was probably not all that difficult a feat. But, still, he felt that no other Hearth’s Warming could possibly better it. He had a family!

The morning started with a pile of presents in the main sitting-room, under a very festive tree. Spike gleefully served as presenter — except to Twilight. Harry insisted he get to do that “chore.” Naturally, being a Princess and local celebrity, she had the most presents. Mostly books. No surprises there.

The Weasleys and Myrtle were amazed to see how closely their Christmas Day celebrations at home matched those in Equestria, right down to the festive tree with lights and decorations to match. And by the pile of presents each received. While they knew, intellectually, that owls must be able to get here, seeing their family’s presents under the tree was still a surprise. They had expected to find those on their beds when they returned home to the castle.

The new school clothes from Twilight and the other adults — Harry and the fillies had done a bit of covert measuring — were beyond their expectations. As were the small book-bags with undetectable expansion charms. And the wand holsters for those that didn’t have any.

The chocolates for Harry and Twilight from their visitors were well received.

Everyone laughed at the twins’ antics regarding their sweaters. But the sweater for Harry was confusing to him, at first.

“It’s mum’s way of saying you’re part of the family!” George explained as the others nodded.

“Clearly, she likes you better, because your sweater is better than ours!” Fred said.

Harry nodded uncertainly. He decided that he should accept the gift with the intent in which it was offered. Mrs. Weasley, after all, had been very nice to them last August. It would be in poor taste not to appreciate the effort it took to make the sweater. And, outside of his Ponyville friends, it was the very first gift anyone had ever given him just because they knew him.

Although, on a pony, it was more like one of Dudley’s oversized robes than a sweater. That would change once they returned to Hogwarts, he knew. He still put it on, and used sticking charms to hold up the sleeves and prevent himself from tripping.

When Spike opened his presents, the visitors were even more amazed at the gems that filled the small boxes and bags.

“Twi,” Spike asked with wide eyes and slightly begging expression, “can I have one now?”

She snorted, but smiled. “You may have the large purple one and the small blue. Save the rest for snacks later.”

Watching as Spike happily chomped and chewed away at the two gems left the visitors speechless. The dragon was actually eating a jewel that would have been enough to purchase all their Hogwarts’ books back home. The others in the bags would have paid for the entire Burrow. Charlie had told them they fed their dragons meat. That this dragon planned to eat a fortune’s worth of jewels while everyone else watched with an indulgent and cheerful smile was simply incomprehensible to them. They could only watch, aghast — and listen to a fortune being crunched away.

The explanation Twilight gave, after seeing their stunned expressions, that gems were common stones in Equestria, reduced them to stunned silence for several minutes. When Harry and Spike offered to show them a gem field so they could collect a few themselves was simply a brain-overload. Harry wasn’t sure that they understood anything else that happened that morning.

Harry couldn’t worry himself over that, he was too distracted by Twilight’s adoption of him.

The real surprise of the day was the plainly-wrapped present without a sender listed. Harry’s name was written on the wrapping in narrow, loopy writing no one recognized. Everyone watched intently as he unwrapped it to reveal something fluid and silvery grey. It slid silkily to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. The Weasleys and Myrtle all gasped.

“I’ve heard of those,” George said in a hushed voice.

“That’s really rare, and really valuable,” said Fred.

Ron dropped the box of Every Flavor Beans he’d gotten from Hermione.

“Is that really . . . .” whispered Myrtle.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

The shining, silvery cloth was strange to the touch, like water woven into material, Harry thought.

“It’s an Invisibility Cloak,” said Percy, a look of awe on his face.

“I’m sure it is,” said George.

“Try it on,” said Fred breathlessly.

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell. “It is! Look down!”

Harry looked down at his hooves, but they were gone. He looked at Twilight, who returned his astonished look. He pulled the cloak over his head.

Spike gasped and said, “You’ve disappeared . . . completely!”

The others were nodding and staring. He moved to the side and they continued to stare at where he had been.

“There’s a note!” said Ron suddenly. “A note fell out of it!”

Harry snatched the letter in his magic. Written in the same narrow, loopy writing was the message that Harry’s father had left the cloak with whomever the writer was, and that she, or he, was now returning it.

Harry stared at the signature-less note. The others admired the cloak.

“I’d give anything for one of these,” Ron said. “Anything.”

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Twilight said softly.

“Nothing,” he said, still staring at the note. He felt very strange, conflicted even. First the adoption, now this. Had it really once belonged to his father? He had never had anything that belonged to one of his parents. And yet, Twilight had given him a family.

Who had sent the cloak? Why had they waited until now?

۸-~-۸

For the first time since he had first arrived in Equestria, Harry was excited and he waited impatiently for Princess Celestia and Princess Luna to arrive. His constant repetitions of, “When will they get here?” and, “What’s taking so long?” throughout the morning drove nearly everypony else to distraction. That and he couldn’t hold a conversation for more than a few sentences before rushing over to hug Twilight.

If they could get him away from her in the first place.

Not even the fillies showing up with presents could keep his attention for long.

Twilight was embarrassed, proud, and happy for her new son. And a bit overwhelmed at his response. She had known he wanted a family — but this reaction was beyond the pale. He even waited outside the bathroom for her.

The fillies were just as excited for Harry. And inundated him with hugs of their own to reassure him that they were not jealous of the attention he was showering on his new mom. And that it wouldn’t change anything between them. If anything, they saw great promise in it. Which he found confusing when they said that. But his attention went back to Twilight and he quickly dismissed it.

Just before lunch Spike escorted a visitor into the sitting room. Harry immediately recognized the amber grey pony with dark grey mane and tail, and light blue eyes. It was Filthy Rich, Diamond Tiara’s father. He was sure the stallion was here to complain to Twilight about how the twins had pranked his daughter.

He bowed immediately to Princess Twilight.

She rolled her eyes. “Rich,” she said, “You don’t have to do that every time you see me.”

He smiled. “We must pay proper respect to your rank, Princess,” he said in a slightly chiding tone.

She sighed. “What can I do for you, today?”

“Actually, you need not disturb yourself,” he said. “If you do not mind, my business is with George Weasley and Fred Weasley, I believe.” He turned to face them. He had met them briefly at the party the day before.

The two eyed the obviously cultured and moneyed pony. The three money bags on his flank merely reinforced that notion.

They nodded. “I’m Fred Weasley,” said one, standing to greet the pony.

“I’m George Weasley,” said the other mirroring his brother.

They both bobbed their heads, as bowing was a bit beyond their training at the present.

Everyone watched interestedly. Harry was impressed. He thought that for once they were giving their real names.

“Excellent!” said Filthy Rich, clearly pleased. “Yesterday, as I understand it, you gave my daughter and her friend a candy that actually changed them to colts for the better part of an hour. Is that true?”

The twins were unsure of what to say. The pony did not seem upset, quite the contrary. He seemed almost happy to meet them.

And if they were in trouble, surely Princess Twilight would have mentioned it before now.

“Why, yes, we did,” said Fred, straightening up a bit, as did his brother. They always admitted to their pranks when confronted. And the evidence was clear.

The stallion leaned forward slightly. “Were those illusions only? Or did those candies really change the fillies to colts?”

Frowning, the twins looked at each other. Then Fred said, “Those were not illusions.”

“The candies did reverse their genders,” said George.

“Boys to girls, and girls to boys.”

The pony frowned.

“Ah, sorry,” said Fred. He frowned then said, “Colts to fillies, and fillies to colt.”

Filthy Rich’s expression cleared and he said, “And do they work for adults, as well?” His eyes were glittering slightly and his eyebrows had risen slightly.

The twins smiled. “Oh, yes, they most certainly do.” They were beginning to see where this conversation was going.

“And can you control how long the change lasts? My daughter was rather . . . imprecise in her estimate.”

“The ones we gave your daughter should have lasted about an hour, for her size.”

“For an adult of average weight? About half an hour.”

If the twins’ ping-pong conversational style annoyed him, the amber-grey pony hid it well.

“Can you adjust that?”

Fred smirked. “Oh, yes.”

His brother mirrored him, “From ten seconds to all day.”

Filthy Rich’s smile grew wider.

“Is this your invention? Or is it something that is common in your world?”

“Truthfully, Sweetie Belle discovered it.”

“But we refined it.”

“She’s agreed to let us handle everything.”

“In exchange for any profits.”

After a startled look at the blushing filly, the business pony, smiled again.

“Excellent!” he said, standing up straight again.

He studied them, a moment thinking. “Do you have any other samples like the ones you gave my daughter?”

George looked at Fred, then up at the ceiling. “We have about a dozen.”

“I would like to purchase them all for a bit each,” Filthy Rich said firmly.

After Twilight translated that for them that a “bit” was equal to a galleon, the two readily agreed.

After the transaction, Filthy Rich said, “I will be having these field tested. If they work as well as my daughter indicated, I will return with an order for several thousand of these. In the meantime,” he looked over at Twilight, “I would like to leave a deposit of a thousand bits with your Highness as earnest money and to secure rights to this product.”

Twilight blinked, then said, “I agree to being the bailor.” She looked at the stunned twins. “By my accepting this you are agreeing to make Filthy Rich the sole distributor of this product in the event he agrees to sign a suitable contract.”

She looked back at Filthy Rich. “There is a penalty of ten percent should you cancel the arrangement without cause or take longer than seven days to make a contractual offer.”

Still widely smiling, the amber-grey pony readily agreed. He hoofed over twelve bits for the candies, took them from George, and trotted out of the room humming happily to himself. And leaving a room full of astonished ponies.

“Did that really happen?” asked Sweetie Belle, wide-eyed.

The twins slowly nodded. Fred hovered one bit over to Sweetie Belle. “This is your percentage. We’ll give you the other twenty knuts when we get home.

She stared at the bit, then stuffed it into her saddle bag.

۸-_-۸

The Princesses surprised everyone when they came out of the Ponyville Guard Post, having arrived via the new Floo-network instead of by Chariot. They brought both Twilight’s parents and her brother, as well as Princess Cadance, to the delight of Twilight and Harry.

The princesses were thrilled to meet the humans-turned-ponies, and spent a few minutes in conversation with each of them. Princess Cadance’s conversation with Ginny was a bit longer, and she smirked at Harry after it. All three were intensely interested in meeting Myrtle.

The adoption ceremony took place in the early afternoon, just after a wonderful lunch with the princesses. Which terrified the visitors. They were actually in the presence of the rulers of the country — and the two who moved the sun and moon. Two sisters who could squash them with no more thought than they gave stepping on an ant. They had no concept of how formal, or informal, they should be with two such personages. To say they were all on tenterhooks would be an understatement.

Except Harry, he didn’t want to wait for the official adoption papers to be signed.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on whether or not you were a native Equestrian, the sister Princesses had other obligations in Canterlot that evening.

That the two princesses signed the document in front of the Town Hall, with Twilight’s parents and Princess Cadance signing underneath as official witnesses. Moreover, almost the entire town had turned out for the Princesses, and that meant they were there as witnesses, too. It was a surprise only to Myrtle and the Weasleys when a Harmony Song followed the signing.

It was the first time in over a thousand years that the two sisters had participated in a public Harmony Song, and the first time ever all four Princesses had done so together. It was a day for the history books, especially because it was in support of a small colt and not one of the Princesses. It, and he, would be forever famous.

Pinkie Pie refused to let the princesses leave without at least seeing the beginning of her “Harry has a New Mom” party. It wasn’t hard to convince Princess Celestia to delay leaving when she saw the giant cake hidden inside the Town Hall.

Remembering the letter they had received after their first Potions’ class, the fillies managed to get the twins to give four of the short-term, thirty-second gender-candies to the princesses. Princess Cadance managed to convince the twins to give her two, as well.

The twins promised to follow-up with a few of the one-hour candies by owl to each of the Princesses. Little did they know of the chaos they would be responsible for unleashing upon the Canterlot nobles.

The twins did make sure the Princesses knew that Filthy Rich was negotiating with them for rights to the candies. The smirks the Princesses gave on hearing that gave Harry the impression that the rich pony would soon receive a royal order for a large number of candies. And become even richer.

After the Princesses returned to Canterlot, the party continued.

The party lasted until the Element Bearers did their production of the Hearth’s Warming that evening, with Spike once again doing the narrating. Of course, being a local production, there were many bit parts for the older colts and fillies to take as background ponies. And quite a few improvised speaking parts — even if it was a short, “Oh, dear,” or “impossible!”

Everypony later agreed it was one of the most joyful celebrations ever, only exceeded by the party after the Element Bearers’ battle with Nightmare Moon and Princess Celestia’s return.

۸-_-۸

The following day the Hogwarts students made a trip to the gem field. It was covered in snow, but the gem finding spell still worked. It took them most of the day to find thirty-nine fingernail-to-thumbnail sized gems, with a time-out for a picnic lunch. The warming charms got a good workout.

Harry knew that if for no other reason, warming charms would see that wands were widely accepted and used in Equestria. That charm, and the accio for getting things that always seemed to be just out of reach.

Harry and the fillies were more than happy to give the gems they found to Spike as belated Hearth’s Warming gifts. The others decided to share their finds equally. Because they didn’t know the values of the gems, there was no way to divide them and know they were being fair. As a result, they would sell the gems to the goblins in a single batch, then divide the funds.

Harry had to smirk. Each share would be at least two year’s wages, if not much, much more, based on what the goblins had given the fillies for theirs. The Weasleys would no longer be considered poor, and Myrtle would no longer feel as if she were a charity case. They all had sufficient funds to set themselves up after they left Hogwarts. That evening, the visitors spent their time day-dreaming of what they would get with their new-found wealth. Not that they believed they would really get all that much. They insisted Harry was exaggerating what the goblins had paid.

When the fillies showed up the next day, after breakfast, Scootaloo had a glint in her eye that made Harry nervous.

“Ya know, I was thinking about Hermione,” she said, hoovering beside the other two. “While she’ll like the bookmarks, quills, and paper we got her, I think we should get her a few books.” Then she grinned. The other two nodded eagerly. They had clearly discussed this already.

Harry slowly nodded. “We could visit the bookstore and pick up one or two, I think.” Something else was planned, he knew. They were the Cutie Mark Crusaders, after all.

Scootaloo shook head and executed a quick loop. “Nope. I was thinking we could check out the Two Sisters’ Castle.” She grinned. “We could try for a Book Antiquarian Cutie Mark!”

Harry stared at her. They were in the main sitting-room again with their Hogwarts friends. “We’re not supposed to go into the Everfree, remember?” he said, with what he knew was a vain hope that that might derail the plan.

She shook her head, again. “Nope. Ginny and I can fly there while you and Sweetie Belle can take Ron and Apple Bloom by teleport. The twins can take Percy and Myrtle, ’cause I know they’ll want to explore a castle, too.” The other two again nodded. “So we won’t even be close to the forest itself. And the castle is on the other side of the ravine, anyway.”

“And I remember Rarity saying that the castle itself was a safe-haven in the forest,” said Sweetie Belle. “None of the animals ever intruded on it.”

The twins were, of course, eagerly nodding their heads. Ron, Ginny, Percy, and Myrtle weren’t as enthusiastic, but they were interested.

He sighed. It was true. They had been forbidden to traverse the Everfree, but no pony had said they couldn’t visit the castle if they didn’t go through the Everfree.

Harry knew he had lost this discussion. Cutie Mark Crusaders Castle Adventurers were a go! But he still had to voice his objections so he could later say, “I told you so!”

“But,” he protested, “Twilight already cleared out the library there when the Castle of Friendship grew.”

“But there might be a few in hidden rooms,” responded Scootaloo.

His next complaint was, “We have to tell someone we’re going there so people don’t start looking for us and panic.”

Apple Bloom grinned. “We met Pinkie and told her. She said that was no problem!”

Fred grinned, “So, we get to explore an ancient castle?”

“Just as we did back home?” said George.

“Only there aren’t any adults around to stop us?”

Hesitantly, Harry nodded. The way they phrased that worried him. By Percy’s expression, he too, was worried.

Less than half-an-hour later the ten of them were standing in front of the castle.

Its looks hadn’t improved much since the last time he had seen it, when Twilight and her friends had started to restore it. The foyer still had the odd five-armed sculpture, although the arms now held stone replicas of the Elements. The floor had been cleared of debris and the walls repaired.

The group spent a few minutes looking around the room as Harry and the fillies explained what had happened two and a half years ago. From their expressions, Harry could see the Weasleys were sceptical. “Well, anyway, this used to be Princesses Celestia and Luna’s castle a thousand years ago. After their argument, Princess Celestia felt she couldn’t live here anymore and moved the government back to Canterlot,” he explained. “It’s been empty since then. Twilight and the others started fixing it up but then Harmony gave her the crystal Castle of Friendship in Ponyville and they gave up the project.”

After experiencing several Harmony songs, the visitors were not as incredulous of the last statement as they might have been had they been told that while back at Hogwarts.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” said Scootaloo. “Let’s go!” She zoomed into the Main Hall, followed by the others.

The twins’ eyes were sparkling and they began trotting down the left corridor in the Main Hall. “Look, those torches look like they’re being held by hooves!” came the exclamation echoing back to the rest.

Harry and the rest quickly clustered around the first unlit torch on the right side corridor. “Yes,” said Harry. “This the Corridor of Torches!” The others stared at the life-like hoof holding the torch. They were currently unlit. The unicorns all lit their horns to relieve the shadowy appearance everything had.

The fillies started trotting down that hall and Harry hurried after them. Looking behind, he could no longer see the twins.

۸-_-۸

“Well,” said Fred, “That was unexpected.”

“Indeed,” came the muffled response from under him.

They both lit their horns at the same time, bringing a bit of light to the dusty and narrow hallway. They untangled themselves and stood. Fred looked at the featureless wall behind them, searching for a way to get it to open. The hoof-held torch was the obvious trigger, so he pulled on it. It refused to move. “Huh,” he said. “That was what flipped us the first time.”

“Come one,” said George, as he started down the hall, “let’s see where this goes.”

Fred followed behind him, and cast a vanishing charm on the floor before the dust overwhelmed them. He carefully examined the walls for peepholes or door triggers as he walked, as did his brother. The peepholes only showed them empty rooms to either side of the narrow secret corridor.

But no doors.

Distracted by searching for a door to either room, they didn’t notice the trapdoor in the floor.

۸-_-۸

Percy, Myrtle, Ron and Ginny wandered down the much brighter and wider Main Hall. They could see twin banners in the distance above and behind the staircases to the next floor.

It didn’t take them long to discover the library, between and under the stairs. It was a large room with many empty bookshelves. The lighting came from floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto a large courtyard with a fancy fountain, now dry.

The four saw nothing of interest, at first. The furnishings were in surprisingly good shape, with what they assumed were comfortable sofas and chairs scattered around the room. In front of them, or beside, were various reading tables. Beside one table was something that looked like a Ferris-wheel with seven flat platforms instead of chairs. It was only a bit taller than they were. It was too small to be for ponies, although foals in a basket might fit. It took a few moments, but then they realized it was so a researcher could have seven books open at the same time without taking up a ridiculous amount of space.

Myrtle grinned, and one shrinking charm later she was placing the item in her saddlebags. “I found my present for Hermione,” she said brightly.

Careful searching of the room revealed a hidden passage that led to another, cosier library. Unfortunately, it had already been cleaned out. Only a few tables and chairs remained. And it was spotlessly clean, as had been the main library, indicating that if it had had books, then Princess Twilight had probably already found and removed them.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

There is a Group, now, called If Wishes Were Ponies . . . if you want to post side stories.

93 — Castle-mania II

After their thorough search of the library environs, they headed back out Main Hall and up the stairs that bracketed the library entrance.

The two banners on the next floor’s walls were of two horses, not ponies, both with wings and a horn. One had a bright, day background, with a white alicorn, the other was night themed, with a black alicorn.

“Yuh think those are supposed to be Celestia and Luna?” asked Ron.

“Their ancestors? Maybe?” said Myrtle. “This castle is a thousand years old, you know.” She stared around them, trying to take in the entire expanse of the Main Hall. It was definitely two or three times the length of the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

“And the girls said that both Celestia and Luna are thousands of years old, so probably them,” said Percy as he stared at the two banners. “Very stylized, I’d say.” He moved closer and ran his hoof along the lower edge. “These should be in a museum, not left here to rot.”

“Harry did say they were starting to renovate the place last year,” said Ron.

“Still, they shouldn’t be left here.” He glanced at his siblings. “They are history, after all. Can you imagine a banner like this of the Founders just being . . . abandoned?”

They all nodded at that.

Ginny flew up and detached the banners, with Myrtle’s help. They rolled them up and shrank them, placing them in Percy’s saddlebags. They had a gift they were sure would please Twilight. Or maybe for the Princesses, if Twilight thought them appropriate for that, and she didn’t want them.

They went through the doorways beside the banners into an enormous room with a throne at the far end. The windows looked out onto the same courtyard they had seen before. This room had seen the most damage, and not just from time. A battle had taken place here. Several, in fact, both one from long ago and one from recently. The weathering and shading on the exposed marble clearly showed the difference.

Even though the floor was free of debris, columns were broken and severely damaged. Or simply missing large sections where something had blasted the columns in two. And scorch marks were still visible. The windows had new glass, but nothing fancy. The huge divots and cracks in the floor made them wonder why the library below was in such good condition.

Whatever non-marble decorations had existed were long gone, destroyed by the fires that had clearly raged at one time.

Ron, naturally, went straight for the throne and plopped down on it. “Hey, look! I’ma king!” He struck what he thought was a regal pose. As a pony, he simply looked ridiculous.

“Get down from there!” ordered Percy as he rushed over.

“Make me,” Ron said, running his hooves over the inset gems on the arms of the throne.

There was a POP and fresh fruits appeared in a depression built into the side of the throne beside the row of gems.

“Right! I was feeling hungry,” Ron said, grabbing an apple and taking a big bite. “Hmm,” he continued, “Goog!” Juice dribbled from the side of the apple. He swallowed the rest and grabbed a second.

Percy tried to pull him off the throne, but Ron hunched down, and braced his leg and other two hooves against the thrones sides. He didn’t move except a slight pull sideways. He smirked at his brother.

“Don’t sit there! Don’t touch anything! It’s disrespectful. Who knows what’ll happen?” Percy let go of the leg he was holding and went for a body grab.

“Yeah,” said Ron. “Like I’m gonna disappear if I hit one of these gems.” He punched a different gem with his freed hoof.

The throne platform suddenly flipped over backwards, flinging Percy back into the room in front of the throne. It dumped Ron, head first, through a trap door. Then it returned to normal, with no sign that anything had happened.

۸-_-۸

Harry and the fillies had discovered nothing, so far, except empty rooms in the corridor they were exploring. Most had furniture, but it was all utilitarian in nature, filing cabinets, desks, and so forth. These were for the staff that ran the castle, obviously. They came to a cross corridor that was lined with pony coats of armour, which they carefully inspected.

They had never seen pony armour like this before. The Royal Guards had some armour, but it wasn’t anywhere near the full coverage that these ponikins sported.

It was very interesting to see that there was even armour for the pegasi. It had metal pieces that fit over the leading edges of the wings and protected the vulnerable joints at the body. The wing surfaces were left uncovered.

The armours had to be very heavy and only the physically strongest ponies could manage to fight in them. Which brought up the point of what kind of monsters had they had to fight that needed that kind of armour? After all, they knew just how much damage a pony could take.

Each of the armours, there were easily a dozen or more, were on small pedestals only fetlock-high on both sides of the wide hall. The pedestals were all half-moon shaped, with the flat part against the walls. It was all very imposing.

While they were grouped around one specimen, Scootaloo was standing on the armour’s pedestal for a closer look, they heard what sounded like an organ note play. Before they could blink, the pedestal spun on the flat side. It was now empty. They all startled back, and began to panic.

“Whar’d she go?” demanded Apple Bloom.

“Scootaloo!” yelled Sweetie Belle.

Harry, after the first moment of shock had started looking for the magic that had to have been responsible.

“Scootaloo!” repeated Sweetie.

This time there was a thump from the wall behind the pedestal.

After a period of yelling at the wall they got the answers they needed. While she could hear them, they couldn’t hear her — so they resorted to one thump for “yes” and two thumps for “no.” Yes, she was okay. No, she hadn’t touched anything. Yes, she had heard a sound that she thought was a musical note. No, she didn’t see a way back. No, she couldn’t find a lever.

Meanwhile, the others had been scouring the vicinity for clues. They were now considering how to kick the wall down.

“Stand back,” Sweetie Belle shouted, bracing herself in front of the wall.

“No! Stop!” shouted Harry. “If you do that, the residual magic will hide the trigger!”

She sighed, but sat down and waited.

It wasn’t obvious, but eventually Harry found a tiny spot of magic on the wall. However, his touching it, either physically or with magic did nothing.

“Scootaloo, can you hit here?” he called out. There was a thump two hooves to the right. “No, move to your right!” he called out. It took several tries, but, as she later told them, “Just as I lined up for a kick, the stone under my right fore-hoof shifted and then the door opened.”

The four of them stood, staring past the ponikin into the dark and narrow corridor.

“Well,” said Sweetie Belle.

“A very deep subject,” Apple Bloom interjected quickly.

After a dirty look at the filly, Sweetie Belle continued, “Hidden corridors lead to hidden rooms, don’t they? One of which is bound to have books in it. And if they weren’t hidden, Twilight would already have moved them, right?”

Sweetie Belle lit her horn and started into the corridor. The rest quickly followed. Scootaloo was annoyed that the narrow space ruled out flying and she had to walk. Harry went last and kept a look out for anything behind them.

۸-_-۸

To the twin’s relief, the trap-door was to a slide that dumped them into an underground room.

“Well,” said George, “That was unexpected.”

“Indeed,” came the muffled response from under him.

They untangled themselves and took a look around. They weren’t really worried. They were unicorns, after all, and knew the teleportation spell well enough that they could easily escape any time they wanted. The front steps to the castle couldn’t be that far away.

And with their horns lit, they could easily see everything around them.

The room wasn’t a dungeon by any stretch of the imagination. It was rather cozy, actually. There was a sofa by one wall, a small bookcase on the second with a reading table. A fireplace occupied the third wall. An unlit torch was in each corner of the room. The bookcase was sparse, with only a few books in it. A quick look revealed several intriguing titles: Cutie Marks: Discovering Your Talent; The Order in Chaos; and Greece: Land or Cooking Oil? There was another book, How to Turn a Castle into Demented Funhouse in 37 Easy Steps, but it seemed to be more of a diary with lots of hand-written . . . hoof-written notes and drawings.

The other books in the bookcase covered more pedestrian topics such as Modern Farming, Construction Techniques, and Plumbing Essentials.

The twins quickly shrank and stored all the books. It would be easier to convince Twilight to keep a few if they handed . . . hooved . . . her a bunch.

The Demented Funhouse they saved for last as they wanted to see what the current castle might have in store for them. The placement of an organ caught their attention, and they decided to look for that. Which wouldn’t be all that difficult as they could now hear very faint notes being played.

But that could come later, after they read the book.

۸-_-۸

Immediately after Ron disappeared, Percy jumped onto the throne. He looked at the two girls. “No way I’m leaving Ron alone,” he stated. He punched the same gem the other red-head had hit, and just as suddenly disappeared.

The two girls looked at each other, wide-eyed.

Myrtle shook her head. “If they were renovating the place, there can’t really be anything dangerous here,” she said looking at Ginny.

Ginny looked around the room. “Well, no reason to hang around here,” she said. She headed from the throne. The two of them squeezed themselves onto the seat, then Myrtle hit the gem.

It was very disorienting, at first. Ginny tried to use her wings to control their descent after she grabbed Myrtle in her legs. Myrtle lit her horn and they could see the walls rushing by them. However, they could see light below them rapidly getting closer.

Then they shot into a large room only moments before they plunged into warm water. They quickly surfaced, pony-paddling, and looked around. Ginny wrapped her wings tightly to her body to reduce their drag.

The castle clearly wasn’t on level ground as they saw they were in a huge swimming pool bordered on one side by windows. Ginny’s brothers were in the shallow end shouting and waving at them. The two girls made their way to the boys. Oddly, half the room’s wall at the shallow end came to the edge of the pool. Except for that one part there was more than enough room to lounge or walk around on. As they went closer, they saw the corner of the pool had steps to let them climb comfortably from it to that area.

Percy had climbed out and was looking around. “This is almost as big as two classrooms.” He looked up. “And the ceiling is nearly as high as the one in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.” He looked over at the others as they climbed out to join him. “You two just fell from the hole in the ceiling, there.” He pointed up at the ceiling at far end of the room over the pool. There was no sign of an opening. They stared and frowned. It had to be a trapdoor that only opened when trigged. Which was why they hadn’t smelled the water in the pool while in the throne room.

After a quick look, the others climbed out, and shook off as much of the water they could. A few drying charms took care of the rest. Wand holsters were certainly worth the expenditure, if one had the money, they agreed.

The room was in amazingly good condition. In fact, it looked as if it had just been prepared for them. The water was clear, filled the pool, and was actually warm! An open cupboard had towels in it. If they didn’t know better, they might have thought someone had prepared the pool and room just for them. And this was in a ruined and abandoned castle? The spells on this must be very powerful.

They turned and looked out the windows lining one side of the room, trying to figure out where they were.

The windows overlooked a small park dense with bushes and trees. If it had had a plan or walkways, they had been overgrown long ago. A high wall enclosed the park, limiting their view, but revealing nothing more of the castle.

The four headed for the door on one wall of the room. Ron was pouting at the dressing down his brother gave him for being a berk and just punching buttons willy-nilly. “You could’ve been killed!” Percy had concluded angrily.

The door led to a room with three doors. Two doors led to what had to be royal restrooms, each as big as a Hogwarts classroom. One was decorated in a motif that emphasized the moon, the other the Sun. The third door led to a set of marble stairs and another door. The stairs went up and led to several rooms, one room per landing, culminating in a large bedroom — with attached bathroom. All the rooms were empty, and included what were obviously maid quarters, a study, a small library, and another room for receiving guests. They did find a book that had apparently been knocked behind the bed in the bedroom — Dream Walking for Dummies. It looked more like a diary than a published book, though, with numerous hand . . . hoof-drawn images and notes.

From the windows, they could see they were in the northern part of the castle. The throne room was on the opposite side of the tower from the pool. Myrtle inadvertently discovered there was a slide that went from the bedroom bathroom down to the pool. Ron discovered another one that went . . . elsewhere.

Once more, the other three had to follow blindly.

۸-_-۸

Harry was surprised that the corridor led them to the castle kitchen. The exit was hidden behind a dishware cupboard. Even looking, it was hard to see that the fillies came from behind it and not the doorway beside it. You couldn’t tell the tunnel was even there unless you were specifically looking for it. And a moveable cupboard could easily hide it from detection.

The kitchen was huge. And well stocked. Both equipment wise and with food.

Considering it was nearing lunch time, it seemed only natural for Harry to start fixing them lunch. Being ponies, almost everything was vegetables and fruits, with a few hay-based items. What really surprised them, however, was what they found in a storeroom.

“Are those cakes?” asked Scootaloo.

“It’s huge!

And it was. Nearly as big as the food storeroom beside it. Harry could only shake his head. The preservation spells on the storage rooms had certainly done their jobs!

The fillies were not slow to pillage the fruit bin — not that they could make much of a dent it. After all, it had been designed to store food for an entire castle’s worth of ponies. All the fruit was as fresh as the day it had been placed there.

After their early lunch, they began exploring the rest of the rooms they could reach. All of which were clearly support rooms for the kitchen or staff. And just as clearly vacant of anything interesting.

Just as they were about to leave the area and search the rest of the castle, they heard, “Aha! There you are!” coming from Fred. George was right beside him.

“How’d you get here?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo flying over to them. “We were watching the door to outside, and you didn’t come down the stairs from the dining hall above. We were just about to go there again.”

“And the kitchen staff quarters are through the door over there,” added Harry.

“We came through there,” George said, pointing at one of the empty storerooms.

Fred frowned back into the storeroom. “Forge,” he said, “There’re only empty pots and pans in there. I don’t see a door.”

They spent a few minutes fumbling around. Many pots and pans were “accidentally” knocked to floor with a great deal of noise. The twins concluded the secret passage they had used was hidden on this side. And they couldn’t find it. The others were on the other side of the kitchen, covering their ears.

“On the other hoof,” George said, “we did find a bunch of books in a hidden room.”

After showing the others their discoveries, and having a bit to eat themselves as the two groups shared information, they headed up to the dining room. There was still plenty of castle to explore!

۸-_-۸

Meanwhile, Myrtle and the other Weasleys found themselves in a windowless room that wasn’t a dungeon. It was rather cosy, actually. There was a small and empty bookcase by one wall, a sofa by the second with a reading table, and an unlit fireplace. An unlit torch was in each corner of the room. Disturbingly, the room appeared as if it had been recently cleaned. That is, no dust was anywhere.

They checked the room carefully and found Faust, Fact or Fiction? behind the bookcase. Then they found How to Move the Sun, which was stuffed under a cushion on the sofa.

With those stowed in Percy’s saddlebags, they headed out through the only door in the room. After a short walk, they found themselves entering the castle kitchens. They heard voices coming from an exit with stairs. And discovered the rest of their exploration party about to leave.

After catching up with each other, and scarfing down food from the kitchen below, the much larger group left for more exploration. And to find the source of that mysterious music they could occasionally hear. Was there a music spell breaking down?

It didn’t take them long. Once they decided it wasn’t their imagination, they quickly homed in on where the music was originating. To their surprise they found a room with a massive organ in it! And, even more surprising, the pony sitting in front of the organ and playing the music was Pinkie Pie!

“Well,” she said, “I couldn’t let you wander through the castle without proper supervision, now could I,” she said. Setting aside that she hadn’t been actually watching them, it did make sense. When they told her about the slides and pool, she vanished so suddenly they didn’t see her move. Only a pink outline remained in the air as the shed fur slowly drifted down. A moment later they heard an impossibly loud “Wheee!” followed by a splash.

With an almost constant, distant, “whee!” in the background, punctuated by faint splashes, they once more resumed their search for books.

The rest of the day was interesting, in that they explored almost the entire castle. And they discovered two more slides, three more trapdoors, six secret passages, and a spring-loaded section that tossed the pony on it from beside a door on a patio to a balcony two floors up.

But one additional book was found, A History of Paradise Valley. They found it in a partially destroyed room that once had been a barracks for the castle guards. It was under a bunk that had been crushed by falling debris. By the scorch marks on the walls and the discarded weapons on the floor, the owner hadn’t survived the battle to retrieve his reading material.

Naturally, they were subjected to a lecture from Twilight about running off to the castle, even if they hadn’t trekked through the Everfree Forest. Then they were the recipients of profuse thanks for retrieving ancient books that others had missed. And the banners. They managed to convince the bookworm to let them give their other bookworm two of the recovered books: Cutie Marks: Discovering Your Talent and The Order in Chaos.

They knew Hermione would be thrilled to have two books over a thousand years old that no one on Earth had ever seen. Or read. Or even dreamed about.

And Harry discovered that sleeping in Twilight’s bed made for wonderfully restful nights. And even more wonderful mornings waking up with company instead of alone. It made the nights warmer, too.

۸-_-۸

Dumbledore sipped his glass of fire-whiskey as he watched the fire in his fireplace and reflected on the events since the start of school this year.

Foreign students from Atlantis, a late student from overseas, a troll allowed into the castle, and an attack on a student. And the discovery of an actual horcrux in the school. Then there were the uncommonly common potion accidents that yielded usable potions.

There hadn’t been this much commotion in Hogwarts since the end of England’s Great Wizarding War.

Fortunately, right now, the castle was almost completely empty of students. None of the Gryffindors or Slytherins had stayed behind, and only three students total from the other two houses. They said they needed the quiet time to study for their NEWTs. Most of the Professors had returned to their family homes, as well. The Christmas hols, as usual, made for a very relaxing time in Hogwarts.

Except for the Ministry parties in the evenings he had had plenty of time for his research. That was thanks to the Equestrians’ suggestions about assistant teachers. The new policy was working out quite well, as were the suggestions put forward by the other professors. They all reported that having exceptional sixth and seventh year students take some of the load had allowed them to concentrate on those students who needed help. And both the exceptional and the lagging students had produced a noticeable improvement in their magic.

It was a policy he wished they had implemented decades ago. But Headmaster Dippet had been a traditionalist. He had spurned anything that hadn’t been done for a hundred years, at least. And the professors had all learned the futility of trying to change things. There had been many missed opportunities that it had taken Princess Twilight’s forceful suggestions to restart.

And that fresh look had even extended to the muggles. The Atlanteans had been quite clever with their approach to the muggles. They had taken advantage of the muggles’ gullibility and recent fascination with “technology.”

The Unspeakables, at his request, though Minister Fudge’s thought it was his, had taken a look at what the Atlanteans had been doing with their “cures.” It wasn’t all that difficult, the primary information was in the newspapers, after all.

The amputees had been easy, the wizards and witches had merely pretended to be reporters and talked with the muggles. The muggles, to a man and woman, said they had been taken to a muggle hospital and the missing limbs regrown with special medicines and technology. While they alluded to it being “like magic,” they had insisted it wasn’t. All they had seen were machines, medicines in bottles, and doctors — just as you would find in any muggle hospital.

The only surprising thing they had seen had been some of the doctors had unusual hair colours. Which, now that the Equestrian Embassy had been announced, they understood to be the alien doctors. No visible magic at all.

The Unspeakables hadn’t even needed to obliviate the interviewees. “A refreshing change,” Broderick had said. “A simple glamour, a few questions backed by legilimency, and we were done.”

It had taken the Unspeakables a bit more effort to “acquire” one of the Equestrian cancer-cure machines. But they had. And then disassembled it to find its secrets. Their conclusions were that it was a marvellous feat of ingenuity in using rune-based magic but fooled the muggles into thinking it was technology at work.

Even if a muggle were to take apart the device to plumb its secrets, they wouldn’t notice the magic at work.

The real discovery, as far as the Unspeakables were concerned, was that the Atlanteans had somehow managed to get magic spells to work without destroying the electrical items. The two seemed to work together seamlessly. In fact, when the Unspeakables removed some of the electrical stuff, the device quit working. Which made it seem as if the electrical parts were integral to the machine functioning properly. No one would look inside and think, “This is not right.” And even if someone did suspect it to be magic, there wasn’t anything they could point at that conclusively proved it was so.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

Book suggestions by Sir Chaos Omega, badninja, everydaygamer, and myself.

94 — Knight Check

“Very clever, indeed,” Broderick had dourly said of the Cancer-cure device. “We have several Unspeakables investigating just how difficult it is to accomplish the mingling of electronics and magic.”

And, he had agreed with Albus, that as long as they didn’t do anything that couldn’t be explained by technology, no one could claim the Atlanteans were “exposing” magic. The portal made it plausible for them to claim that any incidents that might be “magic” were simple misunderstandings because they were from another world. A world where such “magic-like” events were normal. It wasn’t magic at all, just telekinesis. And telekinesis, as everyone knows, is not magic. For magic, people needed wands! And the Equestrians did not have wands.

While the ICW could complain that the Atlanteans were not hiding as they should, there was nothing anyone could point to that showed them breaking the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Anyone insisting otherwise would also end up forcing muggle-borns and half-bloods, and their families, to abandon their homes and livelihoods to live entirely in the wizarding world. As the pure-bloods did.

Which would make it very difficult for wizards to purchase food, as trying to hide the thousands of acres needed for farming and ranches would be nearly impossible.

The only difference in exposure to muggles for most wizards and witches was in the scale with which the Atlanteans were operating.

Convincing England’s close friends, the Bulgarians and French, that it would be better to leave things as they were, and to back England’s Ministry stance, had been difficult. Eventually, though, with the reports from the Unspeakables in hand, they had acquiesced. With their help, and their friends in the ICW, he had been able to prevail in the ICW. They would do doing nothing more than monitor the Atlanteans’ muggle activities.

Wizardkind was safe from exposure as long as no one panicked. Or did anything monumentally stupid.

The Unspeakables had returned the cancer-cure device, in case the Atlanteans noticed it missing from their inventories. A confundus was all that they used on the muggles to hide their activities. They couldn’t obliviate the people the device had been taken from without risking international relations. Leaving the muggles confused, however, was well within reason.

Dumbledore very much did not want to make either Princess Twilight or Princess Luna, upset with him. Harry Potter was too vital for England’s survival.

Which brought up another problem. He still hadn’t found Voldemort’s agent. He had repeatedly scoured Hogsmeade without success. Everyone there was well known to him, and the strangers were always just passing through, and rarely seen again. And definitely not on the sort of schedule Voldemort’s follower would have had to keep.

Not even the Centaurs had been of help. They just insisted that Mars was bright and rising, although Venus had stopped its decline. Jupiter being in retrograde from the thirtieth until the end of April was a problem in light of the other two. But Saturn starting retrograde before the end of May left only a narrow window of relief when all the planets were in direct motion.

Voldemort’s agent had to be close, which was obvious from the attack on Harry during the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch game. Such a jinx required line-of-sight on the target. And Harry had been quite high at that point, easily visible from a great distance.

Severus had successfully countered the jinx on Harry’s broom, and the boy had made a miraculous Snitch catch that would absolutely go into the record books for Hogwarts — Minerva had alternated between wanting to ground the boy for recklessness, or putting him on a pedestal for defeating the Slytherins. Not that it had been that close of a match. The Gryffindors had clearly been in the lead before the incident.

The boy’s difficulties had allowed the Slytherin team to score a few times while the Gryffindors were distracted, but they were still behind when Harry caught the snitch.

The timing of that worried him, however. Looking at Severus’ memory, it was difficult to tell if Severus had been interrupted before or after the boy’s broom had recovered from the jinx. Could something have distracted the agent? But what? The only ones around the Potions professor had been other professors. And they were all above reproach.

The agent must have noticed Severus opposing him, stopped the jinx, and set the professor’s robes on fire. But before the agent could resume the jinx on Harry, the boy had caught the Snitch.

A most vexing problem. To hex Severus would have required the wizard be much closer — almost in the stands. However, picturing it in his mind’s eye, Severus had been sitting where he was visible from the forest. If someone were in the exact right place, they might have been able to do it. And it was at the edge of Hogwarts’ charms, just far enough to escape detection.

He would have to make Severus the referee for the next match with the Gryffindors. His constant moving about would make it difficult to predict when he would be in a vulnerable position at the same time as Harry. Perhaps he himself would attend. It had been some time since he had last watched a game. It would be a good opportunity to mix with the professors and students.

In the meantime, he would redouble his efforts to find Voldemort’s agent. Whomever he, or she, was, they weren’t a stranger in Hogsmeade. And the regular inhabitants had all been verified as the real wizards and witches. None of them had been substituted with polyjuice or illusions. And none had the slightest taint of Voldemort’s dark magic about them.

So, it must be someone hiding in the forest. Although, to hide there without the Centaurs ever noticing was quite an accomplishment. Unless it was someone who had a hidden tent in the forest and only came out as an animagus. A tent with a fidelius on it would be impossible to find.

But that spell would be unable to hide his or her tracks outside of the coverage area.

Yes, that was probably it. He would expand his investigations into the Forbidden Forest close to the castle. And perhaps put an apparition-detection spell there as well. Then if the agent was coming and going via that method, he would be able to find them. He might not know exactly where this hideout might be, but he would know of its general placement. With that information, he could take action.

Princess Twilight had not been pleased by the Quidditch incident, but he had freely shared the memories and assured her Harry was as safe as if he were back in Equestria. Which, for some reason, she didn’t find as convincing a statement as he had hoped. She had grimaced, sighed, and muttered something about Cutie Mark Crusaders.

He would forward to her his most recent conclusions and solutions regarding the Statute of Secrecy. And perhaps gently chastise her for not warning him of the Embassy reveal and what they were doing with the muggles. The Equestrians were, after all, operating in England and that made the English Ministry of Magic responsible if anything went wrong.

And he would notify her of his latest discovery. He glanced at his hidden desk drawer. It had been an excellent decision to have Professor Lupin accompany him. He owed the wizard a favour, because without his intervention Albus would have put on the ring. Which, considering the curses on it, would have been disastrous for the Headmaster. And the entire wizarding world.

The werewolf hadn’t known the purpose of the trip, of course. Only that a ring in a box, heavily cursed, had been recovered.

Albus was convinced that it was a horcrux. However, based on the battle last time, he wasn’t about to try to destroy the cursed item without sufficient backup. And getting the Princess to verify his discovery would be a bonus.

Proof that he was treating the Equestrians respectfully and truthfully.

With any luck, this horcrux would lock down exactly how many horcruxes had been made. And, thus, how many they needed to find. He suspected that there were at least two more — Slytherin’s locket and Hufflepuff’s Cup. Those had suspiciously disappeared at the same time Tom Riddle had.

۸-_-۸

Castor, his wife, and daughter, stared at the stunningly beautiful room into which they stumbled. If not for the prepared guards, all three probably would have face-planted on the floor as they left the floo. Prince Blueblood just sighed and waited patiently for them to regain their balance.

“As I mentioned earlier,” he said after they had a moment to look around. “We will have an audience with the Princesses just after lunch. This is Professor Bill Neigh,” he nodded towards a unicorn stallion with a grey coat, a white mane and tail, blue eyes with glasses, and what looked like the drawing for a molecule as his cutie mark. He nodded to them politely.

“This is Apple Polish,” Blueblood continued, and indicated a unicorn mare with a cream coat, brown mane and tail, blue eyes, and a red apple cutie mark. She also nodded to the Searles. “They will be showing you around the palace and to your rooms. As well as answering any questions you might have.” He turned to a third pony, a pegasus, “Lieutenant Lightning Streak will help you adjust to your wings while you are here.” The stallion had a blue coat, two-tone yellow mane and tail, green eyes, and lightning-bolt cutie Mark. He was wearing a pair of googles around his neck. “And walking,” the pegasus muttered, smiling at them.

The Ambassador gave the pony a sharp look, but refrained from saying anything in front of the guests.

“I have things I need to do. So until then, I bid you goodbye,” Blueblood said, bobbing his head before he turned and walked out of the room.

Professor Bill Neigh stepped forward first. “This is your first time through the portal, correct? And as a pony?” he asked, eyeing them carefully.

“Yes,” answered Castor for his family. “Prince Blueblood informed us that the Princesses had invited us here when the Embassy was officially announced. He suggested the week after Christmas, your Hearth’s Warming time, as well, I think? He said it was a bit of a quiet time.” Castor looked around uncertainly.

Bill Neigh smiled broadly. “Yes, the week after Hearth’s Warming is usually pretty relaxed. Most ponies are with family, and the palace is pretty empty. It is a good time to look around and avoid crowds.”

Milada, Castor’s wife, said, “We aren’t interrupting your hols, are we?” She glanced at the three.

Apple Polish laughed. “Goodness, no. If anything, you’re saving us from paperwork at the School! That’s where we would be today, otherwise.” She sighed. “Correcting papers.”

The Searles laughed, too, and relaxed at hearing that. “Paperwork,” muttered Castor.

“Indeed,” said Bill Neigh, chuckling.

Lightning Streak stepped closer. “Before we do anything else, seeing as you are new to having wings . . . .” He stopped and shook his head frowning, “Never thought I’d ever say that,” he said as an aside. He cleared his throat. “First, let me show you how your wings work so you’ll be more comfortable. Now, then, stretch your wings as high as you can. That’s it!”

What followed was a lesson in the proper manner in which one was supposed to hold their wings, the exercises they would need to do to keep their wing muscles from cramping through disuse, and the proper care and maintenance of feathers.

“Which is,” he informed them, “a rather intimate procedure shared between close ponies.

“Just so you don’t trip up and hurt yourself with an accident,” the pegasus then said, “I assume that because you’ve never had wings before, you probably won’t have much stamina for flying. You’ll start too fast, stop too late, and misjudge cornering. All those come with experience.

“Oh,” he added, “You needn’t be concerned about hurting yourself severely if you crash. Pegasi are extremely hardy in that respect.” He looked around the room. “For example,” he said, and flew up to the ceiling.

They watched him hover for a moment. Then he shot down across the room. He didn’t merely fall, he actually flapped his wings and added to gravity’s pull. He built up an incredible — to the Searles — speed before he slammed into opposite corner wall.

They gasped and started over to him. They were certain he had killed himself. Or, at the very least, broken bones!

The two professors just shook their heads and face-hoofed, sighing dramatically as they prevented the three from slipping on the floor.

Lightning Streak stood up and shook his head. “Huh,” he said, looking at the dent in wall, “I thought it was tougher than that.” He turned to the gobsmacked humans-turned-pegasi. “See? Nothing to it.” He took a step, slipped, caught himself, and then grinned at them. “I’ve had much worse spills without ending up needing more than a few minutes for my head to stop spinning!”

They stared at him as he flew back to them.

Then they practiced the basic manoeuvres that every pegasus learns as a foal, including hovering for a moment, to get used to the idea of actually flying.

The three ended up swaying around in the air as if they were drunks after a party. And there were a few crashes — that were surprising easy to shake off! Fortunately, the room didn’t contain much in the way of furniture. Castor wasn’t sure if the room was normally this empty, or if the ponies had prepared it beforehand just for the three of them.

That the ceiling in the room was more than high enough to accommodate their tentative attempts was a happy coincidence. Although, considering that a third of the population usually flew, and that the Princesses themselves were so tall, maybe it wasn’t that unexpected.

Bill Neigh and Apple Polish watched from the side-lines, themselves learning things they had never thought to ask their pegasi friends. It was an hour in which Castor found flying under his own power made parachuting seem practically pedestrian and boring. Even being novices, wings gave them a breadth of control that simply outclassed anything he had ever attempted jumping from a plane.

Apple Polish finally interrupted. “Perhaps we should get something to eat from the staff dining room?” she said. “You all look like you haven’t eaten in weeks!” She glanced at the clock beside the door and added, “It’s getting close to lunch time anyway.”

The lieutenant nodded, “Yes. Being hungry does distract you when you’re trying new manoeuvres. And flying around like you have been should have worked up a bit of an appetite. Just fold your wings like I showed you. Firmly, so they don’t droop or drag.”

“If you’re at all hungry at any time, just drop into the dining room,” Apple Polish continued. “It’s open all day and night. Don’t worry about paying for anything. Only day visitors have to reimburse the Crown. Which, as invited guests, you definitely are not.”

It was a rather long walk, and a good way to practice four-hooved locomotion. After a couple of near face-plants, the Searles were taking their first look at what ponies ate. Castor’s wife and daughter were amazed to see fish in the cafeteria-style dining room. The quantity of baked goods was simply amazing. They shook their heads, wondering if ponies lived off of sweets. And seeing things like hay-burgers and hay-fries left them speechless.

“Fish are an important source of energy for pegasi,” Lightning Streak explained. “For our foreign guests, griffons, dragons, and diamond dogs, we import meat as needed — only from non-sentient animals, I assure you!” He shivered. “But fish we stock daily for pegasi.”

The Searles watched closely as the lieutenant grabbed a tray with his wing tips. The three tried to imitate the pegasus and succeeded only in knocking over the stack of trays, to their embarrassment. The two unicorns looked at each other and stepped closer. One restacked the trays while the other pulled out three trays. Then the two held the trays in their magic for the former humans.

Castor noticed how the lieutenant watched them, then selected foods that didn’t require much dexterity. The other two ponies followed his lead. Their three guides showed them how ponies could pick up things with their hooves — which confused the three humans to no small degree. After a few demonstrations, the Searles were able to eat without looking like uncultured slobs, merely careless eaters. No pony laughed at their difficulties, although there were a few smiles. Their three guides’ consideration earned them Castor’s eternal gratitude.

And while the other ponies in the cafeteria did notice the humans’ awkwardness in using the utensils, they didn’t stare or remark on the subject. Or how their companions were correcting them and demonstrating something so simple as eating. Nor how thin they appeared next to their guides and the other ponies.

Castor knew how important cutie marks were to ponies, so he was surprised that no pony remarked upon the three’s clear lack of cutie marks. He saw only raised eyebrows. A few took a second, longer, look to make sure their eyes weren’t playing tricks on them. Then they just pretended not to notice anything amiss. Except for a few surreptitious glances.

Remembering his school experiences, Castor could only wish humans were as considerate and discrete.

Then the humans were escorted to their rooms to relax and “freshen up.” Their guides promised to return in plenty of time to arrive at the appointment with the Princesses.

They were stunned at the . . . well, palatial . . . appearance of the suite they were given. While only three rooms and a bathroom, the suite was ridiculously large. The sitting-room was easily as big as their house, and the bedrooms were not much smaller. Like the rest of the palace, the ceilings were high to accommodate the princesses comfortably, even if they were flying.

No sooner had their guides left than a maid came in and asked if they needed assistance in grooming. When they hesitated, she called two more maids in and they began brushing and combing. Castor discovered why horses liked to be brushed. And from his wife’s and daughter’s reactions, he assumed they liked it as much as he did. And the brushing around his ears was sinfully delightful.

Then came the most embarrassing part of the entire trip. The maids walked them to the pony toilet facilities, and explained how they worked. And did so with great dignity while trying not to embarrass the newcomers, or themselves. Castor suspected the maids had been specially chosen for this, and given a special briefing that they were new to their bodies, and exactly what they might expect.

By the time Prince Blueblood showed up, they were more than presentable. And relaxed. Which disappeared into nervousness the moment he showed up. Bill Neigh and Apple Polish beat him by only a few minutes.

Two guards at the open doors to the Thrones Room held spears upright in their wings. A queue of ponies, both in fancy dress and none at all, were slowly making their way into the room for the afternoon session of the Day Court. The ones wearing plain clothes or none were clearly nervous, the others were just as clearly bored.

A steward with a red-striped hat stood at the door and was comparing names on a list to ponies as they entered. Blueblood ignored the line and made directly for the steward. The fancily dressed and clearly snobbish mare consulted with Blueblood as the rest of their party nervously waited.

The extravagantly clothed nobles had a resigned look at first sight of the Prince, but that changed to surprise and annoyance at seeing the group with him — especially considering their plain appearance. Or, at least, Castor thought they were nobles based on the fancy and intricate clothes they were wearing. Then the entire line migrated to stunned disbelief, and muttering quickly overtook the line. They had realized the three in the middle of the group had no cutie marks!

The pony sniffed as she looked at them, then indicated they should follow her. She led them to a roped-off area where another pony, the Major Domo, Castor presumed, awaited them with a clipboard. The Major Domo was wearing a red jacket with a red hat. After checking the other’s clipboard, the steward returned to her post by the main doors and the line of ponies started moving again. The Major Domo, a white-coated mare with a yellow mane and tail, moved up the platform and to a position at the side of the two thrones.

“You three will remain here until called,” Blueblood instructed them quietly. “We will be over there.” He pointed with his muzzle.

Blueblood moved to a roped off seating section. Bill Neigh, Apple Polish, and Lightning Streak followed him. He took the front seat, they took seats behind him.

One throne had a sun motif and backing, the other a moon. Celestia was seated on the sun throne, naturally. Princess Luna was in the other. They hadn’t expected to see her. Castor had been told she took care of Night Court. Based on the surprised reactions of the ponies entering behind them, and the whispering and glances of those already inside, it was a rare event that brought both princesses to the Thrones Room.

Princess Celestia had an earnest expression, listening to the pony in front of the thrones. Luna’s was a bit bemused, and was sipping daintily from a large cup of some steaming drink held in her magic.

The rest of the ponies stared at the interlopers who had dared to jump the line. While the others had to wait their turn, these three blank-flanks were getting preferential treatment. Some were furious at what they considered an insult, others were merely surprised that three ponies could reach adulthood without cutie marks.

The Thrones Room slowly filled with petitioners and bureaucrats. They all stared at the close group once they realized that maybe these blank-flanks were responsible for the presence of both princesses.

The room was divided into two main seating sections, with the balcony above acting as a third. A small section was clearly for nobles, with comfortable cushions, lounges, chairside tables and an area directly in front set aside for those nobles who planned to speak. It was still filling up as ponies filed in. Only a few were in the area for speakers.

The second section was just as obviously arranged for the commoners, and their supporters, wishing to speak to the Princesses. The seating there wasn’t quite as luxurious as it was for the nobles. The balcony was for an audience, and relatives providing emotional support to those with an engagement to speak. Both sections had ponies still seating themselves, although those scheduled to speak seemed to be nearly in full attendance already.

Armed ponies were stationed at regular intervals around the room, both on the floor and at the ceiling.

Princess Celestia glanced at the Searles, then smiled and nodded as the pony currently in front of her throne finished his speech. “Thank you, Lord Breaking Wind. I accept your advice on that measure and will consider it as carefully as it deserves,” she said. She appeared quite sincere.

Castor wasn’t sure if she was being facetious or serious. Based on his expression, neither could the pony she was addressing. Or the audience. The pony bowed gracefully and sedately walked over to the seating for nobles, just behind the area occupied by Prince Blueblood and the Searles’ entourage. He sat and started a muttered conversation with the ponies beside him.

The Major Domo stepped forward and said, “Castor James Searle, Milada Searle, his wife, and Thalia Searle, his daughter, please approach the throne.”

The three nervously moved to the steps at the base of the throne. Now was not the time for an inadvertent face-plant. The rest of the room interestedly watched, and whispered with their neighbours. The three had known they were going to be seeing the Princesses, but had not expected it to be in such a public venue. From Blueblood’s hints they had thought it had been a brief tea that was planned.

Princess Luna stood, smiled at them, and said, loudly, for all the room to hear clearly, “Let it be known that Castor James Searle has rendered valuable services to Equestria and its Princesses. His assistance has been instrumental in establishing an Embassy in the Human world, as well as arranging an equitable and just relationship with the government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, on the other side of the inter-world portal in Ponyville.”

The room burst into excited chatter. This was the first time that either of the Princesses had mentioned the other world in public, other than to acknowledge its existence and refer questions to the new “Inter-World” Office.

Then Princess Celestia stood and said, “In acknowledgement of those services, we bestow upon him the title, Honorary Knight of the Realm. He shall, henceforth, have a suite at the palace for him and his family when they visit our kingdom and a stipend of ten thousand bits per annum.”

۸-_-۸

95 — The Joke's on You

Princesses Celestia and Luna took a moment to glance across the room, lingering a bit on the stunned expressions of a few minor nobles. The unknown blank-flank now out-ranked them. The major nobles maintained their carefully blank expressions. The political landscape was changing, and they were clearly calculating how that might affect them.

In concert, the two Princesses stepped from their thrones. The Major Domo stepped forward also, and presented a black box to the two regal rulers. They took it in both their magics, and gracefully descended the throne platform to stand before Castor. The box opened, revealing a velvet-lined interior with a medallion on a ribbon necklace.

The medallion floated up and towards his head.

“We expect this will put a bee in the nobles’ bonnets,” Princess Luna whispered in his ear as she leaned forward and draped the ribbon around his neck. She brushed her cheek against his.

Princess Celestia did so at the same time, trapping his head between them. She whispered, “And an itch between their shoulders.” She snickered.

He barely managed to keep a straight face. And his feet. Hooves. He could feel his face heating up as he blushed at their proximity.

They both stepped back simultaneously.

“We expect,” Princess Luna said to the room at large, “That your services will continue to bring our two worlds closer together in Harmony.”

“If you need anything to assist you in your endeavours,” said Princess Celestia, “Feel free to call upon us.”

“Turn around and face the room,” whispered Luna.

He did so, keeping his mind on his hooves and not on what this Knighthood might mean. He held his head of high and looked across the room of ponies. The commoners in the balcony and on the floor were both excited and gobsmacked. They had never thought that they might see both Princesses in court at the same time. They certainly had never even dreamed they would be present for somepony to be elevated by the Princesses! They would have quite a story to tell when they got home, regardless of how any of the individual petitions might turn out.

The minor nobles were equally surprised, but not nearly as happy.

The major nobles were all blank-faced or smiling politely. It was impossible to tell what they were thinking.

“We are happy and pleased to present to Equestria Honorary Knight of the Realm Castor James Searle. Look upon him and endeavour to emulate his accomplishments in support of our Rule and Equestria.”

There was a moment’s pause, then the commoners began to bow. Immediately afterwards, they stamped their hooves excitedly. A few major nobles began to stamp their hooves, slowly at first. Soon the entire room was giving Castor the pony equivalent of applause in a thundering that shook the windows.

Under the cover of that noise, Celestia said. “We will have dinner with you tonight, after your tour.” She cut her eyes to a guardspony.

That pony and another from the opposite side of the throne stepped up beside the Searle family. As the applause began to subside, they escorted them to Prince Blueblood’s seating area. The prince indicated that they should sit in the front row beside him. The guards returned to their posts.

“We will wait here for a few minutes. When the first commoner speaks, we will make our way outside so you may get your tour,” he said in a quiet voice.

The next three scheduled speakers were nobles. The first asked for forgiveness for a late tax payment, blaming ill-health, and asking that the penalties be waived. Studying the pony, Castor could well believe he had been in bad health lately.

The second wanted the Princesses to bend the laws regarding home expansion in Canterlot so he could build a pool. Princess Luna advised him to approach the “Runes Department” at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns and request their assistance. “You should be able to add a pool to your property without requiring any exceptions to the laws,” she said. Then she looked over to the nobles section and added, “Anyone needing to expand their business or domicile in Canterlot is encouraged to approach the school and request assistance. Businesses will get preference, and a fee for services will be charged.”

The third asked the Princesses for matching funds on a new hospital in a remote town. The princesses asked that the plans and specifications, as well as bona fides, be left with the Miss Inkwell. They would get back to the petitioner with their decision in the next few days.

Then a commoner was called. He was petitioning the Princesses for permission to jump the queue for a floo installation at his farm so he could more easily transport his crops to Manehattan. He was currently scheduled for mid-fall. He wanted the installation to be just before his first crop matured in mid-summer.

While he was speaking, Prince Blueblood indicated they should leave. When they reached the door, Castor looked back in time to see Princess Luna disappear from her throne. Princess Celestia was instructing Miss Inkwell to have someone check the Floo queue. They were to accommodate the petitioner, as long as it didn’t disadvantage any of his competitors or delay another’s access to market.

After that, they spent the next four hours getting a guided tour of the palace, which was truly huge, both in proportions and physical size. They even took a look at the dungeons, which were very clean and well-tended, Castor was happy to see. You could learn a lot about a country by observing how they treated the ones they considered criminals. That the dungeons were completely empty was another good indication.

During the tour, Castor noticed that a number of the guards were carrying repeating crossbows as well as spears. He hadn’t seen the repeating crossbows at the portal, just guards with normal crossbows and spears. Were they new?

The two guards wearing harnesses holding modified British machine-guns stood out when he saw them. His wife and daughter were too busy admiring the palace and its furnishings to notice the guards’ equipment. That one pegasus with another such harness was shadowing them near the ceiling at a large distance left him conflicted. On the one hand, it was nice to see the ponies were taking such a pro-active stance and adopting modern arms so quickly. On the other, he worried that they considered him and his family to be dangerous enough to require such a guard. Or that they thought their guests would need such protection in the palace itself.

Maybe they were just trying to get the guards used to wearing the harnesses?

The tour helped them improve their balance — Castor only face-planted once, and that was on an especially slick piece of flooring. Thalia almost face-planted but instead took off and hovered unsteadily before settling back down. That earned her a “Well done!” from the Lieutenant. His wife had managed to stay on her hooves.

They returned to their suite, where they again were fussed over by maids. This time they were dunked in the miniature pools and then carefully dried and groomed.

If this was how rich ponies lived, he had to admit to himself, he wouldn’t mind being a pony!

Blueblood once again escorted them as they went to the arranged dinner.

It was in a different part of the castle. Castor saw, as they entered past the rifle-equipped guards, that this was a private dining-room with a table that seated exactly the number of ponies in the room.

Princess Celestia was saying, “Did you see the look on Lord Brilliant Silver’s face when we announced the Knighthood? I thought he was going to faint! He has been angling for one of those for years.” She laughed delicately.

Princess Luna said, “As if the three Orders of Equestria he has received aren’t good enough!” She saw the Searles enter. “. . . Ah! Good! We just sat down. Please be seated.”

The Castors were more than a little terrified of making a mistake and embarrassing themselves or the princesses. Their nervousness was clearly apparent to the far older mares.

“Oh, just relax! This is an informal dinner,” Princess Luna said dismissively. Then she leaned forward and took a messy bite of the salad in front of her. She completely ignored her silverware or magic. Instead she used her wingtips when she wanted to lift something.

Celestia rolled her eyes and sipped from the cup floating by her head.

The waiters quickly brought their meals to the table. The quantity they served to each princess was easily more than all three of the visitors and Blueblood.

“I think you’ll enjoy the burgers. They taste nearly exactly like your hamburgers,” Princess Luna said. “And the fries are made from sweet potatoes, not hay.”

“The Griffons were pleasantly surprised when we served your fish and chips with tartar sauce when their envoy arrived last month,” Celestia put in. “Your world’s culinary explorations are a delight to behold. The variations are truly amazing. The Indian recipes are spreading through the country like wildfire! And sushi!” She closed her eyes a moment, then sighed contentedly. “The chefs give me a different dinner almost every day.”

Luna smiled at her sister, the turned to the transformed humans. “The chefs are experimenting with tofu and soy beans, too. With the right flavourings, the cookbooks we bought suggest it can be substituted for meat. Which would make it much easier to feed our carnivore friends when they visit.”

“And cheaper,” added Celestia after swallowing.

Luna nodded in agreement.

There was silence for a few minutes as they ate a quite good meal. And the burgers were delicious.

As the table was cleared, Princess Celestia said, “It’s time to put the sun down and raise the moon. Would you like to watch?”

The three exchanged glances and then readily agreed.

The two princesses stood and walked outside to the balcony that was beside the room as the Searles followed. Blueblood came last.

The balcony, and windows to the dining room faced south. Celestia went to the end where the sun was hovering above the horizon while her sister went to the other. “Come to this side first,” Celestia said. She turned back to face the sun.

The air around them seemed to tickle them, then became an overpowering flood of tingling. They watched, astounded, as the sun suddenly started moving quickly and rapidly disappeared below the horizon.

A sunset that should have taken an hour to complete was over in seconds.

Celestia turned her head and smirked at them. “Now to Luna,” she said, turning and leading the way to her sister.

The sky above was a wonder of stars and nebulae. Directly above was a sequence of stars in the general outline of the British Isles. Behind each of the major islands was a green nebula, with a giant blue one behind them all.

Luna watched them approach, then turned to watch the other horizon, visible as a dark shadow against the starry sky. Again they felt a powerful tingle roll across their bodies. The moon suddenly rose into the sky, climbing at least a hands-length.

As soon as the moon stopped its motion, a thunder of hoof stomping could be heard below the balcony. The two sisters carefully herded the three visitors between them and stood against the railing in the middle of the balcony. Blueblood was on the opposite side of Celestia. Below them, they saw, was a wide plaza, filled with hundreds, or thousands, of ponies. All of them were stamping their hooves in applause.

Castor knew no one would miss the significance of him, the newly Knighted stranger, being seen between the kingdom’s two rulers on the balcony during the change from day to night.

They stood there, looking down at the crowd and up at the sky. Altogether, it made a rather important statement on how the princesses viewed the United Kingdom. A message he was sure the princesses wanted him to convey to his superiors.

“We used to divide the day and night equally,” Celestia said. “But after reading of your yearly weather patterns and how they affect the various plants, animals, and people, we’ve decided that might be nice to emulate.”

“So, during this winter,” Luna said, “we’ve slowly made the day shorter and the night longer.”

“And we’ll do the reverse come summer, to keep everything in Harmony.” Princess Celestia smiled at her sister. “The earlier sunsets at this time of the year give ponies the opportunity to appreciate all the hard work Luna puts into her night skies.”

The applause continued even after the six of them returned to the dining room to see a wonderful spread of desserts.

“There will be a ball tomorrow evening in your honour,” Princess Celestia said. “In the morning, Blueblood will tell you about your rights and obligations as a Knight. In the afternoon will be a formal clothes fitting.”

She looked at Castor, smiling. “We know your laws prohibit gifts over a certain value, hence We cannot award you any lands. The stipend I mentioned, while traditional, is also well above that amount. However, We believe that if you use the money for charity in the kingdom, you can escape any criticisms or the appearance of accepting a bribe. Or you could use the monies to purchase books and other items for your scientists to examine. I don’t think anyone would mind that use.”

Luna snorted. “And that way Tia gets to put more money back into the economy! I’m sure she already has a list of books your people might like to see.”

Celestia just smiled at her sister. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re implying.”

Castor breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to be caught between the corruption laws of home and a powerful set of rulers here.

She snickered at his visible relief. “Your suite here at the palace will not be a problem, as it is a perk for your title. You are not being singled out for special favours.”

After the dessert and some more small talk about how he had met his wife, Celestia said, “We will have an official meeting later in the week.”

Princess Luna said, “I do not know if you know this, but I am the Princess of Dreams. I would like your permission to contact you tonight, just to see what human dreams are like. The ones I’ve seen so far are . . . rather unusual for ponies.”

۸-~-۸

Harry still wasn’t sure how the fillies had managed to convince their parents, and Twilight, to let the group make this trip. It was in the Everfree Forest, after all. Even if they did have a four-pony guard with them.

It was not long after breakfast when they set out, with an admonishment to return by three. There was a Ball they had been invited to that evening, after all. As they were leaving the palace, an owl flew in.

The two guards in front leading the group were a pegasus and a unicorn, the two behind were an earth pony and a unicorn. Interestingly, the two non-unicorns were wearing a new saddle and harness that seemed to be carrying rifles, going by the long tubes that poked out on both sides. There was a flexible metal tube strapped to the necks and heads that ran up to beside their mouths.

Soon, Harry was studying the foreboding forest around them, searching carefully with all his senses. It wasn’t as close and dark as it was in the summer. Most of the leaves were gone and the branches bare on the bushes. And that made it easier for him to spot predators. And predators to spot him.

The path to Zecora’s tree was well-known to them. Zecora always claimed it was safe to use because she had spread herbs and other things that dissuaded monsters from staying close to it. However, that did not mean monsters were never near it.

He was last in the group, as usual, keeping a watch out for anything that might try to sneak up on them from behind. And to keep an eye on the human-turned-pony visitors. They had been told the forest was dangerous, but there was a difference between knowing something and experiencing it first-hoof.

And he could help catch anypony if they slipped on the snow-covered path. Not that there was a lot of snow; the trees, even without leaves, did provide some protection.

While Ginny, Myrtle, and Percy were behaving, the twins kept getting distracted by the things at the side of the path.

It was when they got to the edge of the open snow-field with occasional blue flowers poking up that the twins encountered the first real hazard. While the rest had listened to the fillies’ injunctions to stay on the path, the twins just had to take a closer look at the brilliant blue flowers. Which meant they went into the field and started to sniff the flowers and pick them.

“Fred, George, NO!” yelled Harry. “Everyone else, stay back!”

“That’s Poison Joke,” added Sweetie Belle.

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom restrained the other Weasleys as the everypony stepped carefully away from the field. The guards kept a watch on forest around them. Nopony wanted a predator to sneak up on them while they were distracted.

Both Weasleys stopped with one hoof in the air at the word “poison” and stared at her.

“It’s a contact poison,” she further explained.

“It’s not really harmful,” said Harry.

“Just really, really annoying,” said one of the guards, glancing over his shoulder at them.

“Zecora has a cure,” said Apple Bloom. “Mah sister got pranked by it once.”

They looked down at the flowers, then back at her. They had forgotten that they weren’t wearing shoes or trousers. Or gloves. Then their ears pricked up, “Prank?” said Fred.

Harry could only sigh and wave them to come back.

Fortunately, the guards’ and the fillies’ warnings and explanations about just what those beautiful blue flowers were kept anyone else from adventuring into the field.

The two ponies now had a manic-grin in place. They began scooping up the flowers they could see with their magic; leaves, petals, stalks, and roots. They began dumping them into their saddlebags. A flower that played jokes? What could possibly go wrong with that?

Soon, all the visible flowers were gone and the others finally coaxed the twins back onto the path. Giving the twins a wide berth, they once again started for Zecora’s tree. Apple Bloom spent most of the journey explaining what had happened to the Element Bearers when they had tangled with the plant. The visitors were all amused at her descriptions of Hairity, Flutterguy, Rainbow Crash, Apple Teeny, and Spitty Pie. They were especially taken with the description of Twilight as Limp Horn, giggling wildly at the image that name inspired. That her magic was blocked wasn’t nearly as funny, though.

“What’s that smell?” Myrtle asked, glancing around curiously.

“Yeah,” said Ginny flying up a bit higher with Scootaloo, frowning. The tree branches prevented them from getting any real height.

“That means we’re close to her tree,” said Apple Bloom excitedly. She rushed up close behind the two guards in the lead.

Harry and the two fillies just shook their heads and sniffed the air. The other’s exchanged puzzled looks.

Soon enough the massive tree stood before them. It was easily the size of a house, because, after all, it was one. Harry sighed again. Every time he saw her tree, he missed the Library tree.

Now that he saw it after going to Hogwarts, he could see that it was somewhat similar to the Potions Room. Only, instead of there being shelves, the potion bottles were strung from its many branches. Some were open and some were not. The open ones provided a bit of a scent to the air that was sometimes sweet, sometimes sharp, and sometimes a blend. The scents no doubt helped keep the more dangerous animals away from her haven.

Or maybe the enormous and strange masks at various places around the tree were magical and did that job.

The guards spread out and quickly checked the clearing for any dangers, then one went to the door and knocked. The Weasleys were looking around in amazement. They had never seen anyone ever make a home out of a tree.

They could see somepony peek at them through one of the windows on either side of the door. A moment later the Zebracan opened the door. “Oh, my, such a crowd on the road, what brings you all to my abode,” she said. She looked at them curiously.

The humans took in the strange new pony. As well as being a zebra, she wore gold rings on her left forehoof and around her neck. She had large earrings, and unlike all the other ponies they had met, her mane was formed into a Mohawk style.

Apple Bloom stepped forward. “You know about the world on the other side of the portal, right?”

“Apple Bloom my good friend! A pleasure to start my weekend,” Zecora said happily and nodded. She eyed the rest. “Of a world unknown I have heard, but of the place none have brought me true word.” She opened her door wide, “Don’t stay outside and roam, please come into my home.”

Apple Bloom hopped inside, as the rest slowly followed. The guards remained outside. And everypony stayed a slight distance from the twins — just in case. No pony wanted to risk a dose of Poison Joke.

The inside of the tree was as even more like the dungeon Potions classroom. There were shelves everywhere with bottles and boxes. More masks hung from the walls where there weren’t shelves, and bottles hung from hooks overhead. A bed was in one alcove while an open door led to what appeared to be a bathroom.

In the middle of the room was cauldron on a fire, bubbling merrily.

Once inside they saw that her cutie mark was a grey stylized spiral sun.

Apple Bloom opened her saddlebags and brought out several boxes. Using her wand she unshrank the boxes.

Watching her wand work with wide eyes, Zecora said breathlessly, “You can do magic with a stick? Is this a new trick?”

“No trick,” Apple Bloom said and smiled as the others snickered. “We learned that earth ponies and pegasi can do magic with wands — each wand has a magical core.” She turned her wand around and offered it to Zecora.

The zebra slowly took the wand in her hoof.

“Go on,” said Apple Bloom, “give it a swish.”

Hesitantly, Zecora swung the wand.

There was a pop and the formerly black cauldron turned blue and one of the bottles hanging from the ceiling fell to the floor and bounced several times like a rubber ball. Zecora watched it with wide eyes, then turned back to the filly.

“Yep,” said Apple Bloom happily, “You can use a wand, too! If you ask at the Portal Building, they can get you one.” She couldn’t help but giggle at the amazed expression on the zebra’s face. She took back her wand and turned to the three boxes in the room.

“I thought you might like these. This box,” she tapped the smaller one labelled Flourish and Blotts, “has seventeen potion books. The first nine are from our classes, years one to seven, five are advanced books on potion brewing, and three are just lists of neat potions.” She tapped one of the other two pony-sized boxes and said, “These two are potion ingredients from Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, so you can experiment with the potions.”

She looked down shyly, “You know, to thank you for the potion lessons you gave me and for Hearth’s Warming. And I thought you would like to know what potions are used in the other world.”

The zebra stared at her a moment, then pulled her into a hug. “A present you needn’t give to me, a true friend is all you need to be.”

The Weasleys were stunned at the presents, as was Myrtle. They knew the presents had to be worth more than their fathers’ earned, or had earned, in a year. And here it was just a casual gift. The three Equestrian ponies truly did not understand the fortune they possessed. Or maybe they did . . . .

After a moment, the two separated.

“On another note,” Sweetie Belle said, grimacing. “These two dolts,” she pointed at the twins, “wandered into the Poison Joke patch beside the trail.”

“You need not say more,” Zecora said turning to a shelf that was now purple. She blinked at it, but then removed a small box, “This you need to restore.” She turned and hoofed the box to the white, purple, and pink filly.

Sweetie Belle smirked and glanced at the two miscreants. “Perhaps you should share your bounty to pay for this.” She hefted the box in her magic.

The two exchanged looks, then Fred opened his saddlebags and a mass of blue flowers floated out. “I think this should cover it?”

The zebra walked over and inspected the mass carefully from several angles, then looked at the two stallions. “Harvesting that flower is always a risky endeavour. Taking advantage of folly to profit is clever.”

She walked over to a different shelf, now hot-pink, and took a board in her mouth. She gently raised it under the flowers until they rested on it. Then she carefully placed it on a nearby table. She turned back to them. “Treat it with respect, or your life it will wreck. The petals are the most effective, when a potion is your objective. They are best, when fresh. The winter flowers are a bit weak, but the summer flowers will make you shriek.”

The twins looked at each other, then George walked over and cast a stasis spell on the flowers in his brother’s saddlebags. Then Fred returned the favour.

They both bowed, unsteadily, to the zebra. “We thank you for your advice, and the cure.”

“Perhaps you should see about getting a wand,” Fred said.

“You wouldn’t need to learn a lot of spells,” said George.

“The levitation and stasis spells would help you the most.”

“And the cutting and packaging spells.”

“You’d still have to get some by hand, er, hoof.”

“But, overall, it would be much safer and easier for you.”

They exchanged another look.

“You should meet our Potions Professor, he’s a Potions Master.”

“I think you both would enjoy a chat.”

Apple Bloom interrupted, “And if you wanted to visit our school and meet him, I know Princess Twilight would be delighted to help you!”

“You could even get a wand, like we did,” said Scootaloo.

They spent the next hour telling the inquisitive zebra what the school was like and what they had been doing there. She was very interested in the gender-changing candy, and the twins were more than happy to leave a sample with her for experimentation to see if she could duplicate it with Equestrian native plants. They quickly jotted down the list of ingredients. Thanks to Sweetie Belles potion crates, she could find native plants to use as substitutes. It there were any.

With a bit of luck, the twins could establish a partner on this side of the portal to supply the local market. Perhaps, Filthy Rich might be of assistance?

۸-_-۸

96 — Hidden

They had just passed the Poison Joke patch when Harry heard the rustling to the side of the path. A moment later, the lead guards let out a warning shout. Harry saw three timberwolves blocking the path ahead. He took a quick glance behind, and sure enough, there were three more behind them. From the noises to the sides, and the glowing yellow-green eyes he could see peeking out from the trees to either side, he estimated that there were at least four or five more. Maybe even ten.

The timberwolves clearly hoped they would panic and run off the path. Which would give the wolves hiding in the forest the opportunity to ambush the terrified and fleeing ponies. Especially as the snow patches and ice would hinder their progress.

The guards quickly herded the younger ponies into a bunch. The wolves moved closer. The smell of rotting meat began to surround them.

Harry and the fillies, used to meeting predators, quickly formed up. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle stood with their sides tightly pressed together. Scootaloo stood on their backs. She spread her wings as wide as she could. They made for a much larger and more formidable appearing opponent than the wolves expected. They hoped. At least it had worked with some of the other predators in the Everfree.

Harry guarded against an attack from behind and looked for a way out.

Ginny saw what Scootaloo had done. She quickly imitated her atop the twins. Ron and Percy guarded their backs.

The guards formed a loose square around both sets of ponies. Myrtle nervously stood beside Harry. They watched the three that were on the trail to Zecora’s tree.

Harry wished the group wasn’t so large. Now that the fillies had wands, they could teleport out. Or he could take Scootaloo while Sweetie Belle took Apple Bloom. But with such a large group there wouldn’t be time to organize an escape before the wolves attacked. Some pony, inevitably, would be left behind. And he didn’t know if the unicorn guards could use the teleportation spell fast enough to avoid being caught.

Wands!

“Get out your wands,” shouted Harry to the fillies, “Use locomotor mortis.”

The timberwolves were confident. They didn’t outnumber the prey, but the prey were trapped. Having them bunch together actually made it a bit easier to get a good meal for the pack. If they had scattered, then the timberwolves would only have caught the slow and inattentive ponies.

The alpha wolf advanced and growled menacingly. He wanted them to run.

The twins didn’t wait, and neither did Harry.

Harry hurled the leg-locker at the nearest wolf. There was a snapping sound. The wolf’s four legs locked together. Harry saw that one leg had completely snapped free. It slammed into the front legs. The now three-legged wolf promptly fell apart.

Behind him, he heard the twins yell, “bombarda.” And Percy said “reducto.” Followed almost immediately by the same from Myrtle.

Harry didn’t know those curses, but the explosions behind him told him they had hit something. Myrtle’s target simply fell to splinters.

Ginny and Scootlaoo had cast their own spells. As had the others. Some wolves were the target of more than one spell.

In seconds, the ponies had “killed” almost every wolf on the trail.

The lone wolf still trapped with the leg-locker spell thrashed, growled, and snapped at his surroundings, but couldn’t get traction in the snow. The remaining wolves stopped all sounds. Those still partially hidden in the forest just stared.

Percy and the twins, however, did not stop. Their cries of “reducto” and “bombarda” continued. The three were shooting destructive spells into the forest almost at random, Harry thought. At anything that they thought had moved. They were shooting at shadows. But some of the shadows were wolves.

The guards were stunned. They had been readying for a charge by the wolves in front and back when the wolves had simply ceased to exist. Then the other wolves slowly coming into sight had similarly exploded.

The timberwolves had gone from the prospects of an easy meal to losing over half their pack without any warning. As they considered the situation, one of the ponies shouted something. A timberwolf investigating the piles of splinters beside a second suddenly exploded into splinters, too.

That was it. The remaining timber wolves turned and ran. The odds of getting a meal had just gone to zero. Their companions would reform and join them later. Meanwhile, they would hunt other prey.

“What just happened?” asked one of the guards, into the silence after the sounds of the fleeing timberwolves faded.

“Magic happened,” Scootaloo said smugly, waving her hoof holding her wand. Then she laughed. It might have been a bit hysterical in nature, but no pony cared.

The pegasus with the rifles looked at the twins and Percy, and then at the new clearing that surrounded them. A tree creaked and fell as they watched. “I want one of those,” the pony said, nodding at the stick in Scootaloo’s hoof. “And where can I learn those spells?”

Percy looked up at him. “Being one of Princess Twilight’s guards, I should imagine all you have to do is ask her. Or ask at the Portal buildings, they can help you.”

After a pause, the earth-pony sergeant nodded firmly. “We’ll do that.”

Harry smirked. “And when you get a wand, ask her to teach you how to teleport. She’s made a teleport version that works with a wand. Then you’d never be trapped again.”

The ponies’ eyes all got wide at that, especially the earth-pony’s.

The sergeant looked around. “We’d better move on before they fully reform.” He looked over at Percy, “Would you mind watching our back-trail, in case any of them decide to follow us?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all, sir,” Percy said, puffing up slightly at the responsibility.

“Good. Hop on my back and keep watch.”

Percy looked at him uncertainly, then shrugged and jumped up onto the bigger pony’s back. He turned around so he could look behind them while the sergeant walked last.

“Reform?” asked Fred.

“Yes,” answered another. “See,” he said, pointing. The sticks from one of the exploded wolves were slowly forming a heap.

George took a step back and looked at the other piles of slowly wiggling leaves, sticks, splinters, and short branches. All had a slight glow. He walked to the closest, and studied the pile. He used his hoof to spread them apart. After a moment, he lifted a brightly glowing stick. The sticks around that one still strived to reach it.

He dropped it on the ground again, and cast “incendio.” The glowing stick burned fiercely for a moment before falling to ash. The sticks around it stopped moving. He looked at Fred. Fred nodded. The two began walking over to each pile of moving sticks, removed the one that was attracting the others, and reduced it to ash. The bound timberwolf watched them with narrowed and glowing eyes.

The guards watched as well. “Huh,” said one unicorn. “Gotta tell the others about that trick. Maybe we can teach them to leave ponies alone.” He gave the lone remaining wolf a vicious look. They need one alive to spread the fear.

After the twins were done, the group once more set out for home.

۸-~-۸

They arrived at the castle after lunch. Once they were inside, their escort headed for the barracks to file a report. The non-unicorn guards wanted to ask about wands. They all wanted to ask about the combat spells. The ones demonstrated by their charges had looked quite useful. Especially that leg-locker. It would come in quite handy with chasing down fleeing criminals. And would do so without any collateral damage. Always a plus when apprehending ponies.

“MUM! I’M HOME!” Harry yelled

“She’s out!” came the answering yell from deeper inside castle.

Harry shrugged. “Come on, let’s get something to eat,” he said. “I’m really hungry.”

Scootaloo’s stomach growled loudly. She blushed, but stared at them defiantly. The others were, frankly, too hungry themselves to make much of a fuss about it. And the scare they had just had had left them all a bit subdued.

“I hope there are some leftovers,” Harry added.

A few minutes later, they arrived in the kitchen. To their surprise, there was a large platter of sandwiches on the preparation table in the middle of the room. There were also ten glasses of hot apple-juice.

Alright,” said Scootaloo, swooping over and grabbing two sandwiches off the top. She happily started munching on one. The rest galloped over and dug in. They didn’t even wait to move to the dining-room.

After they had all demolished one sandwich and had started on the next, Harry stopped and said, “Spike out-did himself with these! They’re really good.” He took another bite.

“I can’t take credit for them,” came Spike’s voice from the door. “Squeaker did lunch today.”

Harry turned and looked at him. He knew everyone who lived at the castle and this was the first he had heard of Squeaker. “Is that a new pony?”

Spike snickered. “Naw,” he said, leaning against the doorframe and smiling. “Squeaker’s actually from the other side of the portal.”

Everyone stopped and stared at him.

Harry frowned, “Mum hired someone as a cook from the other side?”

Spike’s smile grew larger. “Not exactly,” he said slyly.

They continued to stare at him.

“You remember when Luna went through the portal to get that snake?”

They nodded.

“Well, when Twilight came back through,” he snickered again, “she had an accidental passenger.”

Harry and the fillies began to frown at him.

He continued to smile at them. Then he laughed. “Watch this,” he said. “Squeaker!”

There was a pop and a creature Harry never seen before appeared. Everyone gasped and took a step backwards. The unicorns turned their heads to point at the thing. The others lifted a hoof with a wand in it.

It was tall enough to look Harry in the eyes. Its eyes were smaller than Harry’s, but its ears were much bigger. It had large wings, too, so it could obviously fly. It had narrow and thin arms and legs, with clawed hands and feet. And it was dark pink. And it was wearing a clean pillowcase as a tunic. The pillowcase had Twilight’s cutie mark on it.

“Squeaker is here, Spikey!” it said. Then it looked with horror at the other ponies. It gasped, “We’s not be seen by outsiders!”

“It’s fine,” said Spike dismissively. “Harry is family now.”

Squeaker repeated, “We’s not be seen by guests!” He started to pull on his large ears, but then switched to his wings.

The Weasleys and Myrtle were staring at the creature, dumbfounded. Harry and the fillies were puzzled. Percy, frowning, tentatively said, “A . . . house-elf?”

Squeaker nodded, “I’s be a house-elf,” he said.

“What’re you doing here?” Ron blurted out.

Spike burst out laughing.

Squeaker looked defiant.

“Twilight told me,” Spike said, after he recovered, “that the . . . ,” he tilted his head at the house-elf, “Headmaster?”

Squeaker nodded enthusiastically.

Spike nodded, too, “Headmaster told him to obey her as if she were him.”

Squeaker continued to nod, this time a bit smug.

Percy face-hoofed, then said, “ow.”

They heard the clear thup as he hit himself on the muzzle.

“Let me guess,” he said, massaging his sore muzzle. “The headmaster didn’t say for how long.”

More nods.

“And he didn’t tell you it was only until they caught the snake.”

Still more nods.

“And you won’t obey her order to return because the Headmaster’s order supersedes hers’.”

The nods hadn’t stopped.

He stared, narrow-eyed, at the house-elf and then sighed.

He looked around the room, then at the other Weasleys.

“What we have here-a is a failure to communicate,” he said, in a Yank’s deep Southern accent. He blinked and looked puzzled for a moment. Then he continued, “And a stubborn elf who has construed his orders to his best advantage.” He stared with narrowed eyes at the house-elf. “I’m sure the readily available magic saturating this world helped that decision.”

He looked at his brothers and sister, and at Myrtle. Then he looked at the curious Equestrians and Harry. He sighed.

“A house-elf is a creature,” he said to Harry and the other Equestrians, “that must attach itself to a master. Without a master, or a generous supply of magic such as at Hogwarts or Diagon Alley, it will die. In exchange for magic, the house-elves agree to work for wizards and witches. On the other hand, house-elves find joy and fulfilment in working, so it is an equitable arrangement.

“They are rare in that you can only find them at Hogwarts or rich families. Or occasionally in Diagon Alley.”

He turned and looked at Squeaker, who was standing with his arms crossed and staring back at the wizard.

Squeaker lifted his chin and said, “Squeaker has whole castle to himself.” He glared at Spike and they heard him mutter, “Even if others clean and cook sometimes.”

The fight over whether he took care of Twilight’s castle, or the maids had been epic, Spike knew. They had finally compromised. The maids took care of the public areas, he took care of everything else. Plus, he snuck into Twilight’s lab and cleaned whenever he thought Twilight wouldn’t notice. Spike noticed, however.

The house-elf had been ecstatic when the students had arrived for the holidays. Ten more rooms to clean! And, he got to serve Harry Potter! He could hardly wait until the wizard returned to the castle this summer with his three mates. After seeing the one called Ginny, he thought it might be four mates. And Myrtle would be here, too. Spike knew Squeaker could easily fit the new additions into his schedule without slacking off on the barracks that housed the castle’s guards. Although Twilight didn’t realize that the little house-elf considered the barracks as part of the deal.

Spike thought it was awfully funny.

“I think the plentiful magic in this world is just too attractive for him to want to leave,” Percy said. He studied the house-elf carefully, who now looked guilty and was tugging on one of his wings.

“And so, unless the Headmaster, himself, comes here and orders you to return, you’ll be perfectly happy to stay and carry out his orders, won’t you?” Percy concluded.

The house-elf looked decidedly uncomfortable, and abruptly vanished.

Spike burst out laughing. Then, while they continued to eat, he told them of the arguments he and Twilight had had with the creature. The elf stubbornly refused to leave because of his “orders.” He was a good elf, he didn’t disobey orders! Twilight had countered he had to obey her orders, according to his orders, and she ordered him to return. After going back and forth several times, he had vanished.

They had thought it settled and that he had returned home. Then, three weeks later, Princess Luna had stopped by one evening and asked if their elf was lonely. It seemed the others in Canterlot were worried about him.

It was the first time that it had occurred to Twilight that the other four house-elves had also come through the portal — and that the house-elf might not have gone home.

A quick demand of “Squeaker!” and the resultant pop as he teleported into the room, had demonstrated that the elf was still in Equestria.

And so, Spike explained, there were four house-elves in Equestria and one in the Crystal Empire. And three pregnant house-elves delighted to finally have permission to have babies — the new floo connections between the palaces were quite useful in that respect.

They weren’t happy about being forced to take a day off every month, and accept a whole bit every week. But they could do whatever they wanted on that day, even if it was work. And spend the bit on anything they wanted, even if it was supplies for cleaning.

The other four envied Squeaker because he had managed to derail Twilight into arguing about him being in Equestria. Thus, he had managed to escape those conditions. He wasn’t paid and worked every day, to his delight and the others’ dismay.

The only question anypony had had at the time was, just where the tartarus the elves had set up their sleeping quarters without any pony noticing?

۸-_-۸

Bright Star was dumbfounded when Top Marks brought in a whole group of guards that Saturday mid-afternoon.

The two researchers weren’t officially there that day. But both had decided, independently, that the quiet of a weekend made for an excellent work environment. And been surprised they weren’t alone in that plan when they had met each other as they walked into the corridor in to room.

Still, when Corporal Steady Charger had appeared, saying there were visitors at the front desk, Top Marks had gone to check.

Bright Star had dismissively said, “It’s probably some big wig throwing her political weight around trying to show others what she can do. I expect you’ll quickly send the pony on her way.”

He had smiled wryly and headed for the front desk.

So, the guards were quite unexpected.

“These gentle-stallions need to have wands,” Top Mark explained. “Several of them were in the Everfree with guests of Princess Twilight from the other side of the portal when they were beset upon by timberwolves. They were rather impressed when their guests wiped out the Timberwolves before the guards had a chance to act.”

He stopped and gave her a significant look. He knew she didn’t like Twilight, even though she had tried to hide that fact. No pony here knew the reason for that. Yet. She had hopes they never would.

“Considering these are her personal guards, I feel we should assist them. Keeping the Princess safe, after all, is important to the kingdom.”

Not quite gritting her teeth, she nodded, smiled, and grumpily said, “Of course. Who’s first?”

It took nearly three hours to equip the twelve pegasi and earth-ponies with the correct wands. The first two ponies had learned lumos, nox, reparo, and diffindo by the time they finished with the last.

And she had listened as the pegasus and earth pony had once more explained what the Hogwarts’ students had done in the forest.

It thrilled her to the core to hear how the ten students had worked together to demolish their attackers. Six humans-as-ponies, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders, had shown up the highly trained, and proud, guards. Who, in turn, now demanded such abilities for themselves so they could “properly” protect their Princess.

Which she didn’t find nearly as thrilling. Protecting their precious Princess Twilight, that is.

But, my, how having one’s pride hurt could motivate a pony!

And ponies with no access to magic wanted to learn magic, regardless of their cutie marks. And now could! A sea-change was building. It was about to sweep across Equestria. And that thought she enjoyed, and it sent chills down her back that made her shiver in excitement. The others all saw her big smile after each guard picked up his wand and shot sparks across the room. Others probably thought she was only happy because she had matched them to a wand.

If they only knew that each guard who picked up a wand was a nail in the coffin of the friend-destroying cutie marks.

The two researchers then spent the next hour teaching the sergeant the incendio and reducto spells while the others taught each other the first four spells.

When they finally left, Top Marks made sure to give them several of the training manuals with the useful spells a guard might need. It wouldn’t be as good as in a classroom with a proper teacher, but the guards were motivated to learn all they could as fast as they could. And she was sure they would be back to take part in those classes!

When he returned, Bright Star frowned, then said “Hasn’t anypony bothered to make sure the Princess’ guards were in the loop with the Canterlot guards?” She shook her head. “Sometimes ponies can overlook the most obvious things!

She paused. “Should we mention this to anypony? Has anypony bothered to clue in the Ponyville garrison?” She looked at him and said, “Or are the only ones on the training roster the Portal and Canterlot guards?” She sighed, and started cleaning up the work benches and storing the wand materials.

It was clear that the use of wands was going to spread. That meant a lot more schools teaching how to use the wands. Which meant friends wouldn’t be leaving friends behind simply because there wasn’t a school close enough to teach them what they needed to know. Or their parents weren’t rich enough to send them to a boarding school far, far away.

And with them all using magic, the earth, unicorn, and pegasus ponies would be equal. What one could do, the others could do, too, not matter the tribe.

“I’m heading out,” said Top Marks. “There’s supposed to be a Ball in Canterlot. Supposedly, the Princesses gave a knighthood to a human who’s been helping the portal negotiations.” He grinned. “I hear the nobles are all in an uproar about it — ‘Oh the horror,’” he said dramatically, and placed the front of a hoof against his forehead. “‘a foreigner being elevated to Equestrian Nobility!’” He sighed. “‘How will we ever survive!’” He pretended to swoon.

She snickered and he laughed.

After he left, she sat down and looked around the room, considering. She had done quite well here. She knew everything there was to know about making wands. She had even made four for herself, and hidden the extras in bands that fit over her hooves but were hidden by her coat. Undetectable expansion charms, notice-me-not charms, and colour changing charms prevented any pony from suspecting she had them.

She had a complete set of the fourteen Hogwarts’ books on wielding magic. She had already read completely through the first three books for both charms and transfigurations. Her research had provided her a reason to peruse the books in Flourish and Blotts. She had purchased another dozen books on offensive and defensive magic, and the wizarding society in general.

Her original objective to get revenge on Princess Twilight was rather silly, in retrospect. Yes, Princess Twilight had ruined her position in her perfect town. But she had exposed how the belief that everyone should be equal was a hard sell in Equestria. “My Town” as she had quietly called it, had proved that. At first, the ponies had supported the idea, but after living it, they had turned against it. Some had hated it.

She had been too early. In another twenty years or thirty years, or even a hundred, after every pony could use magic they would understand that they were all really equal, she might have been able to succeed. But today?

The tribes were too different and too settled in their ways, today. And cutie marks still held too much value in their eyes. And reducing or taking away their individual abilities had been the wrong approach. Even inside the unicorn tribe, the differences in power were too great to deny.

No one in their right mind would think that they were the same as Princess Celestia or Luna. She had looked into the magic related to moving the sun and moon, and it was far beyond her abilities. Oh, she knew the spells. That was simple. But the power? Not a chance. It would take a hundred average ponies to do the job that Princess Celestia did everyday. And they would need all day to recover in time for sunset.

But adding to their abilities so that Cutie Marks were no longer as important? Wands would do a lot to even the playing field. Earth ponies and pegasi would easily match the unicorns. And unicorns and earth ponies could magic wings when they wanted. And pegasi and unicorns could magic earth pony abilities.

“Anything you can do, I can do, too!” would be the motto of her new town.

She began to hum as she considered her alternatives.

“If I go, there will be trouble,” she softly sang, barely noticing the music swelling in the background as she danced around the room.

In a new world where there was magic, but none of those awful cutie marks, she could do soo much. Although, that stupidity about “pure-blood” was irksome. Fortunately, she would be well-funded. She had the gems she had secretly harvested on her days off, so bits, or rather, galleons, would not be an issue. She would be free to do what she wanted and go where she wanted.

As far as the ponies would be concerned, she went through the portal for research. Then took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron. And disappeared. They would look for her, perhaps even think she had been kidnapped.

Hmm. That wouldn’t be good. Perhaps she should send them a note through the mail? She could say she had decided to visit relatives in Manehattan and would return later. Yes, that would be a good plan. And the new floo network would make it a matter of only an hour to mail something from Manehattan while still returning here in time to sneak through the portal. Teleporting that distance would be exhausting, but doable. She could even leave several extra letters with a lawyer and have him mail them for her at weekly intervals. That would cement the impression she was in Equestria.

Once she was in Diagon Alley, a simple colour change on her hair would fool most ponies. A change in the colours of her clothes would further disguise herself. And she would disappear into the human magical world.

“And if I stay, it will be double.” She pirouetted on the wand-wood selection table.

If she stayed, she would have plenty of time to study and perfect her wand magic. Which also meant the Guard would have more time to realize an enemy of Princess Twilight was right inside their most important research facility — or, at least, the most important at the moment.

She was always looking over her shoulder for a pony to notice that her fake cutie mark tended to fade out during the day as her true cutie mark tried to assert itself. And then the pony would ask, “Why?” And the moment one did, she would have to flee — for their next action would be to call for a guard.

It was odd to think that a new world, a totally foreign world, would be more of a haven than the one in which she grew up. She would be a completely different form. But having hands was useful, and her new height would let her see much farther. There were many advantages to that new form. Although the big mammaries at the top of her chest took a bit of getting used to.

“Should I stay, or should I go now?” She sank onto a chair and into The Thinker’s pose.

If she left now, or soon, it would be on her terms. She wouldn’t need to worry about some pony stopping her. If she waited to be discovered, she would have to flee, instantly. And while she had everything she owned in her saddlebags — thank you very much, expansion charms — there was always the chance somepony might grab it as she ran.

Or they might trap her and take her prisoner. The security around the portal had been severely upgraded since the changeling snuck through. That would be the trickiest part.

“Should I cool it, or should I blow?” She jumped up and trotted in a circle in time to the dying music.

She would tell Top Mark on Monday that she had a sick relative in Manehattan, and would be going there at the end of the week. After a week in Manehattan, she would sneak back and go through the portal early in the morning. With luck, they would think she was still in Equestria for weeks after she had left.

The guards at the portal would recognize her. But the higher-ups would think she was in Manehattan. They wouldn’t start a search until Top Marks reported her failure to return from her visit.

And there would be a lot of confusion as they tried to reconcile her apparently being in two places at the same time.

۸-~-۸

Author's Note

Song lyrics by Clash. Not enough to be a copyright violation.

97 — Unsettling Revelations

“There were definitely five horcruxes,” Twilight said. She leaned back into the comfortable chair across the desk from Albus. They both looked at the ruined ring on his desk.

The ring was blackened by the corrosive basilisk fang, now in the box beside it. One stab from across the room was all it had taken. The ring’s protective spells had barely had time to react to the assault.

Still, Albus stared at the ring forlornly. A priceless treasure desecrated by an egotistical madman. The Gaunt family ring. Handed down through the ages, inherited from the Peverells.

And, if he was correct, one of the Deathly Hallows.

He had been hasty. He should have kept the cloak for a few weeks more. Then he would have had all three, together. The dream of wizards and witches for centuries.

The wand had been the first true clue that the Hallows existed. He knew it the moment he touched it all those years ago. He had ignored Gellies’ bragging beforehand, but when he had won the duel, he knew. And Gellie, despite his protestations, hadn’t really wanted to win that duel.

No more than had Albus. Not if it meant killing the other. Which was the only way the wand could lose — not wanting to win lost the wizard the wand’s allegiance.

It felt more . . . alive . . . than any wand he had ever encountered. He knew, deep inside himself, instantly, what it was.

The cloak was probably a Hallow. No definite clues there, though. Just that it had survived intact and in perfect working condition for centuries. Most cloaks lost their effectiveness in a few decades.

A distant ancestor of the Potters had married a daughter of the Peverells, he had discovered in his research. Just as had a distant ancestor of the Gaunts.

The Peverell ring, he could see, was definitely a Hallow. The clue was deeply carved into it. A round black stone with triangle containing a circle, both bisected by a vertical line. The Peverell coat of arms.

The stone was insert in a gold ring, now broken and scared. The stone itself had a jagged crack through the middle of it. Had it been destroyed? Were its legendary powers lost forever?

If only he had kept the cloak for another week, he would have known if the legends were true, that the three items were gifts from the avatar of death.

Or merely extremely powerful artefacts? Albeit ones created by a wizard who could rival Merlin in power.

Only experimentation would find the secret. Experimentation he would do when he was alone.

Maybe he could borrow the cloak back from Harry?

“You’re sure?” Albus said, glancing at Twilight.

“Yes. It fits the curve nicely. There are two we haven’t found yet, for sure.” She sighed. “But we don’t know if there are any horcruxes previous to this one.” She pursed her lips, thinking.

“Then we know he has six parts to his soul with these, so if he wanted seven, he would need one more horcrux,” the wizard said.

“But was he planning on one more? Or had he already created it? Was Harry the accidental fifth or sixth?”

They sat a moment, each lost in their thoughts.

Dumbledore sighed and opened his secret drawer. He reverently put the destroyed ring in it. A moment later, the basilisk fang joined it. He closed the drawer.

“It is so weird,” Twilight said, “To know that those two items were on your desk, and now I have no idea where they are.” She shook her head and shivered.

“Thank you for your assistance in this matter,” he said.

“Gladly.”

“I might have another in a few weeks.”

She smiled broadly. “Excellent!” She paused a moment, as if considering, then said, “I wonder if you could help me, now,” Twilight said.

Albus quirked one of his eyebrows and slightly tilted his head. After all the Equestrian had done in the last few months, she had never really asked him for anything. Ordered, perhaps. Berated, certainly.

And not without cause, he had to admit.

“It has to do with Sirius Black.”

The other eyebrow shot up.

“I’ve read all the accounts of what happened the night Harry was orphaned.” She looked at him.

“And the facts are lacking. And what facts are presented seem to be contradictory.”

He frowned.

“Harry and I would like your help in determining the truth.” Then she explained the contradictions: Sirius betraying his best friend for no apparent reason; Sirius being the godfather; Sirius hating all Death Eaters; the unlikeliness of a child hiding his true feelings from both all his friends and the adults around him; how his own family vilified him for being against Voldemort; his wand never being tested for spells; and the real impossibility of an explosion tearing apart muggles yet leaving only a finger of the victim?

And then she asked why Sirius, unlike most of the known Death Eaters, was never given a trial, not even an interview. Others caught at the scene of their crimes, such as at the Longbottoms’ home, all received trials. Why hadn’t he?

“He supposedly was laughing and saying he had killed them. Did no one suspect he might have been hit with a laughing charm? He was fighting another wizard, after all. And then maybe hit with a confundus, as well? Both would explain his actions when captured,” she reasoned.

“In Equestria, if someone had presented those facts in an accusation to the Princesses, Sirius would have been questioned immediately. And if he refused to answer, he would have had to have been released on insufficient evidence.”

She stared at Albus. “Yet you have him in Azkaban.” She shook her head. “He was one of your fighters in your secret Order of the Phoenix. Why didn’t you see him? Why didn’t you want to know what had happened? A commander should always question when his troops get in trouble. Especially if it’s something that is contrary to their character. It could have been a setup, after all.”

She shook her head. “It seems as if someone wanted him in prison, and didn’t care about evidence. They just used popular opinion against him because he was the son of Orion and Walburga Black. And the reputation of the Black family.”

He leaned back. He had never really considered the evidence that way. In the confusion of the last days of the war, just getting the Death Eaters on trial had been a struggle in the Wizengamot. And the attacks had continued for weeks afterwards, further muddying the waters. Only the Death Eaters they had caught in the act had gone to Azkaban. And they were ones who had fought back against the aurors and been captured at the scene.

And Minister for Magic Bagnold had assured him that Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty Crouch, Senior, had taken Sirius Black’s confession, himself. That the evidence was incontrovertible. That Sirius Black, James Potter’s close friend, had been an undercover Death Eater, guilty of betraying the Potters, and killing Peter Pettigrew. And guilty of killing a dozen harmless muggles.

Albus had believed his friends in the Ministry. He hadn’t considered that maybe they held grudges against the flamboyant wizard. Or his parents.

He had known the Order had had a security leak, all those years ago. There had just been too many occasions where his people had been led into a trap. At first, he had thought it was Remus, the werewolf. But seeing how devastated he had been on discovering his friends were dead, Albus had quickly realized that the wolf couldn’t have been the problem. And with Sirius’ “confession” it seemed the traitor had been identified.

He sighed. Then told the princess all he knew that had happened that night. He had been fighting other Death Eaters when the alert had happened. He had sent Hagrid as the only wizard he could spare, and whose magic resistance might have stood a chance against whatever was happening in Godrick’s Hollow. And Hagrid had told him of the events at the Potters’ house.

Twilight listened closely, then said, “That makes no sense.” She frowned darkly. “If Sirius Black had wanted to kill Harry, he had plenty of time to do so before Hagrid arrived. And Sirius could have been well away by the time he did arrive. No one would have suspected Sirius in the least.”

Albus had to admit she had a point. Reluctantly, he said, “What would you have me do? I can’t release him without solid evidence.”

She grimaced. “You mean like the ‘solid’ evidence used to convict him?”

He sighed. “The Wizengamot and Minister Fudge would fight me on this, if I tried to get him released without evidence. As far as they are concerned, it is done and over with.”

“I want him to have a trial. In front of witnesses. To ask him if he’s a Death Eater. To ask him if he betrayed his friends. To ask him if he supported Voldemort. And to test his wand, assuming the Ministry still has it.”

She shifted in her chair. “I’ve tried having a solicitor look into it, but no one in the Ministry will talk to him. They all dismissed his arguments as irrelevant. That alone tells me there’s more going on than someone wants us to know. If the wizard was truly guilty, why not talk about it? Why not spread the truth of his heinous actions? Why not show everyone the conclusive evidence? Why depend on rumours and popular opinion to convict a man?”

She sighed. “Unless he’s innocent, they know it, and they want him to remain in Azkaban.”

She leaned forward. “You can ask to see his wand, and test it before witnesses. Do it quickly, before anyone can taint the evidence.”

He leaned back in his chair, and stroked his beard.

“It the wand test is inconclusive, ask to visit the wizard himself. Talk to him. See what he remembers. Find out if he really did betray his friends. At the very least, ask why he did it.” She shrugged. “If he admits it, then the case is settled. No trial is necessary.” She stared at Albus. “If you meet with him and say he is guilty,” she grimaced, “I will drop the matter.”

It was her turn to lean back in her chair and wait.

It was a long wait.

Finally, Albus stirred. “Come, let’s do it now. We’ll view his wand and see what we can glean from that.” He walked to the floo, threw in the floo-powder, and said, “Ministry of Magic, Atrium.”

The Ministry was mostly closed on weekends, barring emergencies, but there was always a guard on duty. They headed across the large lobby to a desk with the sign SECURITY suspended over it.

Twilight had never been in the atrium before, and he watched as she looked around interestedly. She barely glanced at the highly polished, dark wood floor, but did notice that the peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that continually moved and changed — the runes that protected the ministry from muggle discovery and kept the ministry workers safe. The many gilded fireplaces on either side of the long hall, set in shiny dark wood walls, were empty, at the moment.

She most certainly did notice the fountain halfway down the atrium’s length. The larger than life-size golden statues stood in the middle of a circular pool. The symbolism of the centaur, goblin, and house-elf staring adoringly at the wizard and witch was hard to miss, and he was sure she hadn’t. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur’s arrow, the tip of the goblin’s hat, and each of the house-elf’s ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water filled the atrium.

As the only ones present, their footsteps echoed through the hall, backed by the tinkling water from the fountain.

Albus found himself blushing slightly at the look she gave him as they passed the fountain.

“Chief Warlock!” said the badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes as they approached behind the desk. He hastily dropped the Playwizard he had been reading into a drawer.

“I have a visitor I’m escorting,” said Dumbledore, gesturing toward Twilight.

“Step over here,” said the wizard, smiling uncertainly at the Head of the Wizengamot.

Twilight walked closer to him and watched curiously as the wizard held up a long golden rod. It was thin and flexible. He waved it up and down Twilight’s front and back.

He put down the golden instrument and held out his hand. “Wand, please,” the security wizard said politely.

The wizard placed Twilight’s wand onto a strange brass instrument. It looked like a set of scales, but with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.

“Eleven inches, two alicorn-hairs core, been in use four . . . months? That correct?” He frowned and reread the parchment, then looked back up at the clearly adult witch.

“Yes, it is. I got it in August.”

He shrugged. “I keep this,” he said, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. “And this is yours,” he added, gently handing the wand to Twilight.

“Thank you,” she said. Smiling as she took it back and slid it into her holster.

“Thank you, Eric,” Albus said, eyes twinkling.

The wizard’s eyes grew wide, and he blushed, flattered that the Headmaster remembered him from Hogwarts. “No, thank you, Chief Warlock. I hope your business today goes well.”

The wizard slowly sat back down, and watched as the two headed for the gates at the end of the Atrium. It didn’t take them long.

With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of them and the golden grille slid back. Twilight and Albus moved inside it. Neither had anything to say after Albus pressed the appropriate button.

A voice, Albus knew it was a spell, announced each floor as they passed it. Finally, the voice said, “Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.”

They exited and headed down the hall. Albus lead the way into the Auror Headquarters. A young auror sat at a desk just inside the door. He straightened as they entered. He also had been reading a book — a training manual. He laid it on the desk, stood, and said, “May I help you, Chief Warlock?”

Albus smiled and stroked his beard. “Yes, Jim, I believe you can. I would like to see Sirius Black’s wand, and test it with the prior incantato spell. I just discovered that that test had never been done.”

The wizard, flattered that Albus remembered his name, said, “Why? He was convicted ten years ago.”

“I’m afraid not. He was never given a trial. And someone has raised the point that without performing that spell on his wand, which was never done, we can’t be sure he was the cause of the explosion that killed so many.”

The auror frowned. “I’d like to help, but only the Head Auror is allowed to give that permission, especially considering whose wand we’re talking about.”

Albus nodded genially. “I know, so if you could notify Rufus of my presence and request, he can supply such permission.”

The young wizard stood uncertain for a moment, then nodded. He walked over to a fireplace, ignited it, and floo-called Rufus Scrimgeour. Rufus was not pleased, but minutes later he was standing in front of the Chief Warlock.

“What’s this about pulling Sirius Black’s wand?” he demanded gruffly.

Dumbledore carefully explained what they had realized — that the available facts just didn’t seem to support the theories.

Frowning, the auror said, “Anyone but Black, I could do it without question. For him, I’d better contact Amelia.”

Ten minutes later, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was nodding her head thoughtfully. “You’re right. Well, we can settle this rather quickly. Rufus, take us to the wand lockup.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were looking at each other, stunned. A shield spell, a tracking spell, an apparition, a long-range tracking spell, an animagus reveal spell, and a tracking spell were the first six spells that came off the wand. The wand repeated the last four spells several times.

“Are you sure this is Black’s wand?” asked Amelia, looking at Head of the Aurors.

“Positive,” said Rufus. “It matches all his records and this,” he held up an evidence ticket, “shows that this is the wand that was taken from him. The seal shows it hasn’t been taken from the box since it was put in it ten years ago.”

“Well,” said Twilight dryly, “we know he is innocent of the charges of killing Peter Pettigrew and the muggles in that street.”

Amelia stared at the purple-haired Equestrian. She had read about the Equestrians at Hogwarts, Albus knew.

Rufus took a breath, then said, “But he’s still guilty of betraying the Potters and their deaths! And being a Death Eater.”

“Maybe,” said the Director.

Scrimgeour gave her an uncertain look.

“He never had a trial, so we really don’t know, now do we?”

“He confessed!”

“But to what? Everyone thought he was confessing to killing Peter and the muggles.” She pointed at the wand. “But they were wrong, weren’t they?”

She looked at the Chief Warlock. “I think a visit to Azkaban is in order.” She sighed. “Because this concerns Sirius Black I should advise the Minister I am going there. But it’s not necessary.” She glanced at the three members of the Ministry and Twilight.

It took only another ten minutes before they were standing outside the Auror Station opposite Azkaban. The boat trip across the water took another thirty minutes. All five wore the Dementor medallions to protect them from the frightening creatures.

Despite the heavy use of warming charms, they were all goose-bumped from the cold. They were met at the entrance to the prison by one of the Dementors. Albus could see the wide-eyed and horrified look on Princess Twilights face as the creature opened the gate to meet them.

“I am the Ministry Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. Take us to prisoner Peorth Colhx three nine zero.” Amelia said firmly to the creature, her hand on the medallion.

It floated impassively for a few minutes, then drifted away from the gate. After a moment, the group followed. Despair hung around them like an invisible cloak. Dumbledore cast a patronus, which then flew above him. The warmth it radiated made them instinctively cluster closer to him.

They followed the creature as it went lower and lower in the prison-tower until finally they stood in front of a particular cage in the row built into the corridor wall.

Amelia quickly cast a spell to keep their conversation private — both ways.

The wizard on the rock bed in the cage just looked at them hollowly. At first, Dumbledore thought the wizard might be mindless, given his blank stare. After a moment, though, he frowned, stood, and staggered to the bars separating them. Sirius Black was a mere shadow of himself, compared to how he had looked and acted ten years ago.

“Headmaster?” he managed to croak. “They finally told you they arrested me?” He stared at the old wizard, hope in his eyes.

The three ministry officials exchanged looks. Amelia Bones stepped slightly forward. “Sirius Black,” she said.

The wan wizard turned his head to look at her. He squinted and frowned. “Amelia?” Then he looked at the other man. “Rufus?” He looked at Twilight and just stared. “I don’t know you,” he mumbled.

“Sirius Black,” Amelia repeated, “Are you a Death Eater?”

He leaned his head back, then frowned deeply. “NEVER,” he said as loudly as he could. “I would NEVER be a Death Eater. I’d rather die first.” He looked lost for a moment. “James is dead. Lily, too. I saw them. Just lying there. Dead,” he whispered. “Why aren’t I dead instead of them?” He perked up, “Harry is safe! I gave him to Hagrid.” He turned back to the Chief Warlock. “Harry’s safe, right? You have him safe, right?”

Albus nodded, “Yes. Harry is safe. And quite well.”

“How did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named . . . ,”

“Voldemort, Amelia,” Albus chided.

She gave him an irritated glance, and started again. “How did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named find the Potters.”

Sirius Black slammed his head into the bars, starling them. “It’s my fault! I killed them!” he cried. “I talked them into changing the Secret Keeper to Peter!” He sobbed. “I said I would act as a decoy. No one would suspect little nothing Peter. But everyone knew James was my brother. I was the obvious choice. The Death Eaters would come after me! Not Peter.

“And I could take care of myself. Peter was barely average.” He stopped and stared into nothing. Then he laughed. “Peter fooled us, he fooled us good.” He stared around wildly. “Peter! Where’s that rat Peter!” he said viciously.

He leaned against the bars and looked up at the Headmaster. “Peter was the leak. He had joined the Death Eaters months ago, not long after we graduated.”

He banged his head against the bars, again. “I gave their lives to old Voldie. I served them up on a platter.” He was barely standing up.

Amelia looked at him for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” she said.

He looked at her. “I’d swear on my life and magic that what I said was true, but,” he looked around the small cell he occupied glumly, “As you can see, I don’t have my wand.”

Then he abruptly lurched sideways, to stand in front of her. “Do you have veritaserum? I’d gladly take veritaserum.” He stuck out his tongue as if he expected her to pop a few drops on it right then. After a moment he closed his mouth and appeared disappointed.

“Amelia! How nice of you to stop by.” He stood straight. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you tea. How have you been?”

She turned to Jim. “I think we’ve seen enough,” she said. “Open the door.”

Albus gave the witch a significant look, and a nod. He had taken a good look into Sirius’ mind when the wizard was right in front of him. He had delved deep enough to determine that the wizard was telling the truth.

It wouldn’t hold up in court, in fact it couldn’t, given that he had acquired the information without the subject’s consent. But it had been enough for him. His student had been left to rot in a corrupt institution’s prison for ten years. He wouldn’t stay another day.

Jim looked horrified. He moved as fast as he could to open the cage’s door.

Seeing the door open, Sirius almost fell out into the corridor.

“Don’t try to walk,” Albus told him, “Let me carry you.”

Getting out of the prison took far less time than getting in, even with manoeuvring a burden via the locomotor charm.

“This will set the wizarding world on fire,” murmured Rufus.

“Won’t it just,” said Amelia.

Rufus shook his head sadly. “Who would have thought such a mistake could be made?”

“And it makes me wonder what happened to Peter Pettigrew? After all, if Sirius didn’t cast that exploding hex, who did?”

They spent the rest of the trip back in silence. Except Black, who alternated between disjointed babbling and weeping. Twilight kept most of her attention on Sirius, casting warming charms and cleaning charms. And assuring the wizard that Harry was happy, that she was taking care of him, and that he could see the boy as soon as he had recovered enough.

When they floo-d back into the auror offices, Rufus called in several aurors from their assignments. At the same time, Amelia called in several healers from St. Mungo’s. Rufus assigned his people to keep watch on Sirius while the healers did what they could to restore the wizard’s health and sanity.

While they were working, Amelia took advantage of the veritaserum stocks. With the healers and aurors at her side, she took Sirius at his word, and had him repeat his testimony in front of witnesses.

The news that Peter had blown up the street before Sirius could curse him, that he blew apart the street with a wand behind his back, was earth-shattering for them. That Peter also killed everyone within twenty feet of himself and sped down into the sewer as a rat just added to their dismay.

She then repeated the testing of the wand in front of the same witnesses.

By the time they had heard and seen the evidence, the ministry workers were more than horrified. They could not imagine how an innocent wizard had ended up in Azkaban for ten years without a trial and no substantial evidence. It broke virtually every procedure and rule the aurors followed.

“There is a Wizengamot meeting on Monday,” Dumbledore said. He looked over at Amelia. “After I open the session and before we begin regular business, I shall call for the immediate trial of Sirius Black, seeing as he never received one ten years ago.”

She nodded her understanding. “And if anyone objects?”

“Then I shall say he has waited ten years for charges to be placed when the law mandates the arrested person must be charged within a reasonable time of the arrest, not more than a month after the arrest is made. If they still refuse to give him a trial, I shall tell them I have no recourse but to dismiss the case with prejudice. Which the law requires if charges are not brought within that time period.”

She nodded in understanding. “And if they say it was all legal under the War Powers Act pushed through by Minister for Magic Bagnold and Department Head Barty Crouch?”

He smiled pleasantly. “Then remind them that if they let this stand and don’t give Sirius Black a trial, then they are setting a precedent for the Ministry to arrest any person, at random, at a crime scene, regardless of blood status, and throw them in Azkaban, without recourse by the arrested person or their family to protest. All the Ministry would have to do is say there is a crisis.”

Amelia grimly smiled back. “That should get them moving.”

She conducted the two to the elevator, then stormed into her office. As she had told them, she began laying out how the case on Monday would be presented. And began issuing written orders that would be on their targets’ desks come Monday morning.

Plus, Amelia ordered a review of the record of every prisoner in Azkaban. She did not, as she had said, want there to be any other “forgotten” innocents in prison while she was in charge!

۸-_-۸

98 — Strategies

Albus and Twilight exited the elevator on the bottom floor of the Ministry and headed towards a nearby lit fireplace.

“Will you be going straight home?” asked Dumbledore.

“Oh, yes. I want to tell Harry about this as soon as possible. He will, I’m sure, be delighted that his father’s friend was not a traitor. He was actually quite worried about that — he wanted to know whether Sirius Black was guilty or not.” She sighed happily. “And, with Sirius being innocent and being his dad’s best friend, Harry’ll want to hear all the stories he’ll have to tell Harry about his parents.” She smiled to herself. “I know he’s anxious to learn more about them.”

She stopped suddenly just as they reached the first floo.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She reached inside her robes and pulled out a thick pile of folded papers. “I’ve officially adopted Harry into my family. He was soo happy he’s almost refused to let me go to the bathroom by myself this week!” She held the papers out to the shocked wizard. “Here’s the paperwork. I was ever so happy that the two Princesses themselves signed the papers! And it’s witnessed by Princess Cadance of the Crystal Empire, the mayor of Ponyville, my parents, and my brother.” She danced in place.

“His name on this side of the portal will be Prince Harry James Potter-Sparkle and in Equestria will be Prince Harry James Sparkle-Potter.” She sighed again. “Our wizard solicitors tell me that that shouldn’t have any effect on the Potter inheritance on this side.

“The muggle solicitor told me, now that Harry’s accepted, that he expects the final paperwork on their end to be complete in about a week, two weeks at most. All we’ll need to do is have a final appointment with a judge.”

Albus looked over at the auror at the Security desk and hoped he hadn’t heard the exuberant witch. The last thing he needed was for the press to claim that Harry had abandoned his heritage! From the way the other wizard was reading his Playwizard, badly hidden inside a book, it seemed as if he hadn’t.

That was good. It would give him a bit of time to manage how this information made it into the publics’ notice. Because it wasn’t a blood adoption, just a minor name change, there really shouldn’t be a problem with that, magically.

Politically, though, it had dire consequences for the wizarding world, and England in particular. If things became too untenantable for the boy, he would just go to Equestria.

Albus would have to work harder at ensuring that the Equestrians would want to help when Voldemort returned.

“Well,” she said as he tucked the file into his robes, “I have to hurry home. There’s a Ball in Canterlot tonight that I need to attend. You will keep me advised on the situation with Sirius Black?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’ll let you know immediately should anything come up that might affect his trial.” He paused a moment. “Would you like to attend?” he asked.

Twilight thought a moment. “Yes, please.”

“You’ll need to be in my office in Hogwarts at seven on Monday, then.”

“Excellent!”

Twilight paused a moment longer, thinking. “I know it’s late, but would you like to attend the Ball in Equestria tonight?”

He didn’t hesitate, “I would be delighted to attend!” he said. To see Equestria for himself, first-hand instead of through pictures or memories, wasn’t something he had anticipated happening so soon. And the other party he had been invited to would have been quite boring. He would plea that something unexpected had come up and he couldn’t attend.

“Good. I’ll meet you at my house at six. The floo address is ‘13 Wisteria Walk.’ And wear just your normal clothes. When you go through the portal you’ll be changed to a unicorn.” She grinned at him, then floo’d home. He stared into the floo for a moment. Changed to a unicorn? How so very odd!

But portals were tricky things. It was why vanishing cabinets were so rare. Making them was a long and involved process, and they had to be delicately balanced in magic. A major dent or scratch on one could cause a host of problems if one attempted to use it.

Hogwarts had one in one of the classrooms. No one knew where its companion was, however. And no one was crazy enough to try it to find out. If the destination cabinet was damaged, who knew what might happen? In the best case, you might get there and be unable to return. Which, if it was in a secret, sealed room somewhere could only end badly. Or, worse, it could just kill you.

Perhaps it was a fault with this one that the Equestrians didn’t think needed changing; it automatically forced one into a unicorn form when you went through it. After traveling through, a quick reversal spell and everything was put to right. Maybe their penchant for talking about themselves as ponies came from similar portals they used for traveling inside their homeland. Being transformed whenever they travelled would lead them to think being a pony was normal.

He smiled. His animagus form was a Nigerian Dwarf goat. What would it be like to be a unicorn?

This promised to be interesting on many levels.

He would have to remember to take along his dress robes in a pocket and change into them when he arrived.

He entered the floo humming.

۸-_-۸

When Rarity arrived at the Castle, Harry and the other first-years were all in the main sitting-room, perusing the books they had retrieved the day before.

“Well,” said the white mare, as she trotted into the room, “Aren’t you all excited?”

They looked at her blankly.

She rolled her eyes. “Twilight forgot to remind you, didn’t she?”

Harry glanced at the fillies, then back at Sweetie Belle’s sister.

She huffed. “I can’t believe you forgot! The Ball tonight! I’ve made a special appointment for us all at the Ponyville Day Spa. Aloe and Lotus Blossom are expecting us soon.” The colts looked at each other with dread. The fillies, except Scootaloo, lit up with delight.

“Oh, yes,” Sweetie Belle cried enthusiastically. Then she looked down guiltily. “We forgot about that because this morning we went to visit Zecora.”

“Uh huh,” said Apple Bloom. “The twins got into some Poison Joke, then on the way back we got ambushed by timberwolves.”

Scootaloo burst out, “And we kicked butt, too!” She darted around the room excitedly, overhead. “We blew them all up before the guards had a chance to do anything,” she bragged, throwing around her forelegs wildly. Myrtle nodded.

“Poison Joke? Timberwolves? Was anypony hurt?” Rarity was shocked and wide-eyed. “Sweetie Belle!” she cried and dashed over to her sister, lifted her in her magic and began searching for wounds.

“Put me down!” Sweetie Belle cried out. “I’m fine! Nopony got hurt! The twins and Percy blew them all up before they even got close.”

“Blew them up?” Rarity looked around the room and focused on Percy.

“What the girls . . . fillies mean is that we all used our wands to repel the attack. My brothers and I managed to reduce their number by at least six, maybe seven,” he said, as if reporting to his boss, preening just a bit at being singled out as the adult of the group.

“Six or seven?” Rarity repeated breathlessly. Her pupils narrowed to pinpoints.

He nodded officiously, “Yes, I believe there were at least a dozen, probably more. Only two or three remained intact.”

“A dozen? Or more?” Rarity blinked, then fell over backwards in a faint — onto a fainting couch that hadn’t been there a moment before.

Sweetie Belle sighed, then walked over to her sister. The others stared at the white mare on the couch. “Guess I’ll just have to throw this bucket of water on her to wake her up,” she said dryly, and stomped the floor as if she were carrying something heavy.

Just as she reached the couch, Rarity cracked an eye open. “Oh,” she said in fake faint voice, “what happened?”

After climbing off the couch, she demanded they tell her the whole story. At the spa. Where they could relax. And spiff themselves up before donning the dresses and jackets she had slaved over last night.

The twins readily joined them as soon as Harry knocked on their door. He saw George stuff something under the mattress of their bed before joining his brother in the hall. He knew better than to question the twins. But he wondered what they had found at the Two Sisters’ castle.

Minutes later, they met the other four adult mares at the door of the spa. Aloe and Lotus Blossom had prepared the rooms for them and they spent the next hour getting meticulously fussed over. For the humans, except Harry, this was a unique experience.

Meanwhile, they regaled the adults with the story of their trip through the Everfree. Twilight was late, naturally, but not by much.

Twilight gleefully told the others of her discoveries in the Ministry. And not so gleefully told them about Azkaban.

“So, my godfather is innocent?” Harry asked happily. “When can I meet him?”

At this, Twilight hesitated. “He’s very sick,” she said softly. “I’ll arrange a meeting as soon as I know he’s well enough.” She paused at his crestfallen expression. “I know you want to meet him, but he really is very sick.”

She took a deep breath. “Remember how unsure of yourself you were when you first came here?”

He nodded slowly.

“Well, Sirius Black is like that, but much, much worse. He has great difficulty separating what he wants to see from what he does see. And sometimes what he thinks he sees isn’t really there. He changes moods from second to second. And he frequently forgets what he just said.”

Harry’s eyes widened slightly. “Then meeting me might help him?” he suggested. “It would give him something to focus on!”

She nodded, “Or it might set him back.” She chewed her lower lip. “I think we should give their doctors time to work with him before doing that. A week or two, at least. Okay?”

Reluctantly, he nodded his agreement and stared morosely at the floor.

“You’re not regretting the adoption,” she asked very quietly, hesitantly. So quietly only he could hear her. “Are you?” From her tone he could tell she was worried.

He jerked his head up. “Never!” he said urgently, and flung himself at her. For the rest of their time at the spa he stayed very close to Twilight.

After the morning’s excitement, it was a very restful afternoon as they considered what they had heard and learned that morning. Harry spent a good bit asking the others what they thought his godfather would be like.

Then the group made their way to the Carousel Boutique to get the gowns and jackets. And then adjourned back to the castle where Rarity made a few last minute adjustments to their apparel.

After dinner, Twilight announced, “I have another guest to get, so I’ll be back in half an hour. Then we can take the floo to Canterlot and the Ball.”

After she left, the females went off for a bit of final preparation. The twins retired to their room for a little reading, they said. That left the other three in the sitting-room. Percy grabbed a history book of Equestria while Ron and Harry started a chess game. Ron still beat Harry at every game, but Harry was slowly making it harder on the wizard.

۸-_-۸

Elly was quite pleased with the way things were going for her. The Abbotts were very genial, and the atmosphere of love around her kept her reserves steady. The burst at the beginning had settled to a steady stream, with occasional spikes late at night. It wasn’t enough to grow, but it was sufficient to survive. She would have to begin planning for the future. Especially as she couldn’t stay in Hogwarts forever. Still, though, she had seven years to put it all together.

In the meantime she learned the ins and outs of the wizarding world. There had been parties which the young witches had to attend, where they had met some of their friends from Hogwarts. Unfortunately, those parties were virtual deserts as far as she was concerned. Unlike the pony parties she had been told about, these had been all political manoeuvring and status demonstrations. There weren’t that many singles at all.

And nothing at all like the wild and generous parties thrown by the Weasley twins in Gryffindor.

Out of Hogwarts, she would do much better at Madam Puddifoot’s. Running a chain of such restaurants still appeared to be her best source of food for a hive. Not that she had a hive to supply.

Otherwise, the parties reminded her of the desert lizards competing for control of the herd. They puffed out their cheeks and sides, held their heads high and flashed colours, shook their tails provocatively, and fought each other over trivial cracks and crevices in the rocks. The losers lost status and position — and sometimes their lives. Survivors promptly tried to trick the herd-head into making a mistake while sabotaging their own competitors.

There was a lot of political manoeuvring in the hive, but the overall goal for everyling was to protect it and keep it safe. No ling would ever place himself or herself above the hive. There was only one leader, undisputed. Her council was the smartest and best the hive had to offer. No ling destroyed another just for his own advantage, or just because he could. A ling won its position by what it could do, not who it could trick or sabotage.

The wizards and witches, though, seemed to set much store by how many galleons they controlled, how many others paid them allegiance, and who listened to them when they wanted things done a certain way. Even if that way seemed to hinder the overall running of the Ministry. They were only concerned with their own prestige.

It was all quite puzzling, because she couldn’t understand how someone like Minister Fudge could have such power. He was weak, only a fair magic user, and barely able to match a wandless ling, from what she had seen. He was poor by comparison to those around him. He wasn’t smart, in that he was always asking others what he should do.

And he was a traitor to the Ministry because he placed his own welfare about that of everyone else in the Ministry hive.

Still, she was beginning to see the cracks and crevices in the society around here. While the fissures and flaws were different from the desert lizards, the results were the same.

From the private parties she had attended, she could see that her classmates’ families separated into three branches. They were neutral, light, or dark. Just like the divisions in pony society, except those were understandably tribal in origin. The wizarding branches — arbitrary definitions in the political landscape — seemed to be based on the types of magic and artefacts each branch liked and used. It was almost like the unicorns arguing over who had the biggest horn or the pegasi arguing over whose wings were stronger. The wizards argued on how muggles should be treated, and whose magic was the oldest. An incomprehensible concept to Elly, coming from Equestria where everything magical dated back into unknowable history. Where everything living had magic.

The former concerned her greatly. Even a cursory look at the muggles and their technology showed that they would be no pushover if a war broke out. The fact that the wizards and witches had had to conceal themselves centuries ago because of the threat posed by the muggles was sufficient unto itself. Antagonizing the muggles today would be a very bad mistake.

The muggles had greatly improved their technology over the centuries, and could do many things the wizards simply did not grasp. They didn’t seem to understand that if an opponent out-numbered you by 1,000-to-one, it didn’t matter how much magic you controlled, you would lose in a straight-up battle.

The lings understood hiding among a more numerous foe. They understood that it didn’t matter if you could sway a few leaders with venom to your side, and bugger up the enemy’s armies with confusion and distraction. If it came to a fight in the open, the more numerous one would win. Period.

It was why the Griffons, dragons, and — now — lings weren’t in charge in Equestria. And lions, tigers, panthers, bears, and wolves were rarely seen. The much more numerous ponies kept them away.

It was far better to remain hidden. It was rank folly to taunt the muggles.

And this “pure-blood” nonsense? If having numerous magical ancestors was all that important to magic, then why didn’t all the pure-bloods score at the top of the classes at Hogwarts, the muggle-borns score at the bottom, and how were squibs possible? Sure, it was possible that a fluke would be born once in a great while, but not every pure-blood family should have squibs in the family tree. Which rumours said they did.

It was like albinos. Sure, it was possible to have an albino offspring, but it was so rare as to be almost impossible.

So, as far as she could tell, the divisions in the wizarding culture were completely artificial. And based on a poor understanding of both numerical inferiority and just how much one couldn’t rely on magical prowess.

And the wizards that believed such drivel were headed for disaster just as surely as Queen Mother’s plans had been for Canterlot.

Which was why she was making today’s visit to Diagon Alley a visit to Gringotts. After assuring the Abbotts that she didn’t need them to accompany her to the bank. It hadn’t been as easy as she had first assumed. They had refused to let her wander the Alley completely alone. Their main reason for resistance was that she was unfamiliar with the area, and England’s customs in general.

That was why they were there here on a Saturday afternoon. A family visit to the Alley didn’t require taking a special day off from work.

They had finally agreed to leave her at the base of the bank’s steps. After thanking them for accompanying her — the books at Hogwarts on etiquette had been a great help — she started up the steps. She nodded to the guards on duty as they opened the doors for her.

She made her way to the first available clerk she could see.

“My name is Elly De Rippe,” she said to the goblin once he looked over his counter and down at her. “I would like a meeting with Knifethrower, if he is available.”

He stared at her a moment, then looked at something she couldn’t see. “Slasher!” he snarled over his shoulder. “He will conduct you to a room to verify your identity,” he sneered at her. “If you are who you say you are, you will meet Knifethrower.”

She nodded and turned to follow the second goblin as he took the paper from the counter goblin and hurried off deeper into the bank. He led her into a room just inside the corridor entrance and closed the door. He stared at her.

She stared back, then realized what he wanted. She transformed into the gold-coloured unicorn mare with a two-tone blue mane and tail, and green eyes. She turned slightly so he could see her smoky five-pointed star cutie mark. He glanced at the paper, nodded. “Follow,” he said curtly, and led the way back into the corridor.

She turned back into Elly, and again followed him as he went deeper.

The door he finally opened was Knifethrower’s office, she assumed. The seated goblin stared at her, then shoved a small paper and knife to her.

After she dropped her blood on the paper, he looked up and asked, almost politely, “What can Gringotts do for you today?”

“I want to purchase a manor in Scotland with a large estate. Isolated from both muggles and wizards. The manor needn’t be large but must have a decent-sized basement or dungeon. It must have at least a caretaker’s cottage — either original or built — out of direct view of the manor. The cottage should be large enough for a family with several children. There should be a hidden tunnel from the basement to the cottage’s master bedroom. Additional cottages would be nice, perhaps clustered as a tiny village? All should have a floo-connection — password-protected, of course. A full suite of protective charms, as well, to encompass both the cottages and manor to protect it from wizards. It should have a muggle-repelling charm, but only strong enough to stop the mildly curious and not a determined person. An alarm charm to warn us when a muggle is on the land. A greenhouse needs to be constructed beside the cottages for foodstuffs. And the open land farmed to pay expenses.”

She had spent a long time thinking about this. She needed a safe place for the summer. When the war came, she wanted nothing to betray her real home, hidden underground, to the muggles. Several of the books on estate planning in the Abbotts library had been quite useful, in that respect. Let them see only what they expected to see.

“After it is acquired, hire several wizarding families to live there and operate it. They must have at least one child under a year old, each, or expecting.”

She would need a food source, no matter what.

“I would also like to start a restaurant similar to Madam Puddifoot’s, but not quite so . . . pink.” While many of the witches liked Madam Puddifoot’s, a large number of the wizards did not. She wanted a business that both enjoyed. “Something romantic, but not so over-the-top. I will need you to hire a staff for it until I graduate.” She paused to give him time to finish making notes.

“Do I have sufficient funds to do that?” She knew she had a lot, but what that meant in real terms she had no idea.

“You don’t want this hidden from muggles?” he said scornfully.

She shook her head. If the muggles could find it easily, and it was on the tax rolls, then they wouldn’t suspect it was a wizarding property.

“Only from wizards?” He watched her reaction with narrowed eyes.

She nodded. She didn’t want to attract the attention of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes or the Improper Use of Magic Office. She had been warned of those two by her classmates. The less reasons the wizards had to visit her estate, the better.

“Difficult. Very Difficult. But doable,” he said slowly, considering. “And you have sufficient funds.” He nodded brusquely. “I will select a dozen promising estates of at least 200 acres and owl you your choices.” He frowned. “Where do you want the restaurant?”

She could taste his avarice spiking.

The manor would probably be something they had acquired from a destitute wizard and would sell to her at an inflated price. Or something they could acquire cheaply to sell to her at an inflated price. Maybe even an abandoned muggle property. She didn’t care.

“Either Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. If it’s in Hogsmeade, I want a dedicated and private floo from Diagon Alley to the restaurant. And the reverse if it’s in Diagon Alley.”

She had listened to how the students complained about the perenial crowding in Hogsmeade whenever the students were allowed to visit. And the lack of any real entertainment. Perhaps she could attach a theatre at a later date. She voiced that option to the goblin.

He grunted. “Hogsmeade is cheaper, but has far less traffic for a new business. An entrance in Diagon Alley directly to the restaurant is an interesting idea, however.”

He checked his notes, then looked up. “Is there anything else?” he asked in a tone to indicate he didn’t expect there to be.

There wasn’t, really. She shook her head.

“We will owl you our recommendations,” he said and returned to his notes.

She stood and left the office. A goblin was waiting outside the door, and conducted her to the lobby.

There. It was started. Now, when summer arrived, she would have a home ready. There wouldn’t be a time crunch to get everything done before school restarted. And she would be able to start on her sanctuary under the estate.

She sat on one of the couches at the side of the lobby, as if she were waiting for someone, and read one of her history books. After two hours, she headed out the bank and towards Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to meet Hannah and the rest of the family. In another hour or so, it would be dinner time.

Although she planned to claim that she had had the goblins bring her a sandwich while she talked with her manager.

۸-_-۸

“This is Brill,” Thalia shouted just before she collided with the wall, again, and slid down to the floor before she could catch air in her wings. Castor shook his head. His daughter had been carrying on all day about being a flying pony. She picked herself up and trotted unsteadily over to her mother.

“Hey mom, can I wear my wire bracelet?”

“I thought you left that at home?”

“So did I,” she glanced over at her saddlebags. “But the bracelet, hair band, and matching necklace were all at the bottom of the bag when I went to get my toothpaste this morning.”

“Let’s see,” commanded the girl’s mother.

The hair-band was too big for her mane, but fit nicely on her tail. The bracelet was too big for her leg, but the necklace was just perfect. The two decided that her mother would wear the bracelet.

They were actually just costume jewellery. His daughter had bought them last summer because she liked the intricate designs the aluminium wire had been shaped into. And the fact that they were so light meant she could tuck them into her purse and pull them out at a moment’s notice to look “posh” at a party.

The girl darted over to him and gave him a huge hug.

“Everyone thought I was barmy when I told them about meeting Princess Diana at the Embassy. This time they’ll think I’m completely off the trolley when I tell them I was a flying pony!” She giggled loudly. “Until I show them the pictures!” she glanced at her camera on the table by the door.

“This is the best hols, ever!” she declared.

Milada shook her head and sauntered over to Castor. “From detective to minor noble. How you managed to do all this since summer, I’ll never figure out. What’s next? Meeting the Queen?”

“My sergeant would say it was simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said dryly.

She bumped him with her shoulder. “Ha!” Then she sighed and looked at the clock. “We’d better get started. The maids will be here in a moment. It’s only an hour to when we have to be at the ball.”

۸-~-۸

99 — Unexpected Discoveries

Dumbledore stepped out of the floo into a very nice sitting-room. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” he said as he wanded the ashes away while examining the room. It was a casual room that would have been fitting for any middle-class wizard family.

“Not at all,” replied Twilight. “I’ve only been here a few minutes, myself,” she said, having stepped back to allow him entry, “We don’t want to waste time, so let’s head on over to the portal.”

The Scottish highlands had already been dark when he left. But here in the flatlands, the sun had just started to disappear over the horizon, he saw, as she led him out of the house.

As he had anticipated from his last visit to Little Whinging, there was a street with its periodic lights. But the rest of the development was gone. The Equestrians had completely changed everything, removing well over three-quarters of the houses. The house they had exited fronted on a large, unfenced park that separated them from the building in front of them.

The muggle pictures he had seen of the Embassy didn’t do justice to it.

He suppressed his surprise and just followed the witch through the park and a side door into a wing of the enormous building. The security wizard nodded to him, but raised no objections beyond a cursory examination. The area nestled between the building’s wings was much larger than he had thought. Based simply on that, he reasoned that this building easily rivalled Hogwarts in area, if not height. The dome over the portal area he had seen in photographs, but seeing it in real life made it much more imposing, especially at night.

The huge rotating door was an interesting idea, security wise. No one could sneak past without being detected. He noticed the runes on the lower edges of the dome, and its door, that no doubt searched for magical artefacts and their contents. And felt the presence of non-appartition and anti-portkey fields settle over him.

Of course, the Equestrians would know how to block both apparition, teleportation, and portkeys.

Once more, they were waved through the security.

The spiral deck around the tree was an unusual tactic. What he found especially interesting were the changing rooms. It was in good humour that he changed to the robe. And tucked his wand into its holster on his wrist.

Twilight looked back at him. “Remember, on the other side you’ll be a unicorn.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. He really expected, though, that he would turn into his animagus form. If, that is, his theory was correct that the pony forms were merely the animagus forms of the Equestrian wizards.

Walking through the portal was as odd as the vanishing cabinets he had once used, many decades ago. He continued walking for a few more steps, as a quadruped, before stopping.

However, finding that when he attempted to return to his human form, he couldn’t do so, left him speechless.

“Oh, good,” Twilight said, pleased. “You’re familiar with quadrupedalism!” She smiled at him.

He studied his new form carefully. He noticed that, while he still had his beard, also still white, he was actually a tiny bit shorter than Princess Twilight. It was a very unusual perspective for him. He normally was taller than all but the tallest of wizards and witches. His coat was grey. His mane, and tail when he looked, were a lighter grey, almost white.

And his magic felt odd. After a moment’s reflection he understood. He no longer needed his wand to cast magic. He could feel it coiling at the base of the horn on his head. With just a thought, he lifted the package with his robes from the pocket.

“Fascinating,” he said floating the package before his eyes.

“We should hurry,” said Twilight, already removing the robe he was wearing and taking his package.

An auror stepped up to them. “Princess Twilight?” he said.

She sighed. “I’m sorry Albus, but he’s going to cast a quick verification spell at us. Just relax.”

“Hmm?” he said, looking around. That was when he noticed that everyone around him was a pony. There had to be at least a dozen ponies watching from various locations around the portal. A slight movement at the top of his vision brought his eyes up to see four walled platforms arranged on the inside of the dome with both a unicorn and a pegasus looking down from each.

And each one was a different set of colours between coat and manes.

He was completely flummoxed at what he was seeing. He had seen that the First Years were all different, except for the Weasleys all having the same mane and tail colours, but he hadn’t realized just how much variation there was on this side of the portal. It was, like the muggles would say, like seeing the aftermath of an explosion in a paint factory.

He followed Twilight carefully, looking around alertly. And she explained as they walked that ponies didn’t have an animagus form, so neither did he, here. He was, for all intents and purposes, going to be a unicorn during his entire visit.

He was beginning to suspect that everything he had thought he knew about the Equestrians and where they came from was very, very wrong. He decided to just accept what he saw and worry about his erroneous conclusions later. There would be plenty of time later to review his memories.

This was a massive construction, much more so than the other side. The dome here had to be at least a yard thick, he saw, as they transited through the rotating door. And each wing of the rotating door was equally thick. The security check was more thorough, as well. He had to remove and let them inspect his wand and its holster, and the package he had brought with him. They explored every pocket.

It was all very fast, and he realized that they had had a lot of practice because of the staff and personnel from the Embassy passing through daily.

The changeling coming through must have shaken them more than Twilight had indicated. It would take a very determined and sneaky wizard or witch to make it through what he saw. If they could even manage it.

The walls he could now see were easily as high as the tallest spire at Hogwarts. And would have enclosed not only Hogwarts but reached to the edges of the Forbidden Forest on the far side of the Quidditch pitch and to the Mermaid Village in the lake.

The security check at the massive wall outside the dome was equally thorough. And it was only as they passed through the wall that he realized it was as thick as an average muggle house. The aurors watched in all directions. It made him wonder what they were keeping out. Or was it keeping in?

He was glad he had a four-legged form as an animagus, otherwise he would have had great difficulty managing the quick pace she set once they left the portal area behind them. On the other hand, he could now see that the high walls around the portal weren’t merely around it. They extended for a considerable distance beyond it and paralleled the path they were trotting down. And that the walkway was bordered with a park-like setting on either side of them. The occasional movement he saw let him know that even here they had a strong auror presence, although much more hidden.

He noted the buildings on either side just before they reached the Portal Building. The signs adorning them clearly marked a hotel, administration building, three auror complexes, and an area set aside for drilling. Just from the ponies he could see, who all appeared to be wearing gold armour, he estimated that this one location had more aurors than the Ministry did.

He knew gold had magical resistance, but to include such quantities in mere armour indicated a supply that went well beyond anything the Ministry could muster. And that it was plentiful enough to use it in that manner, as well as for money.

The Portal Building was the final check. Once they were through that, Twilight said, “Let me teleport you to Rarity’s. She can fashion some brilliant clothes for you for the ball.”

Seconds later they were walking into a most charming-looking building. Rarity, he saw, had been waiting for them. This time she wasn’t carrying a sword.

He took his package from Twilight, and showed her the robes he had been intending to wear. And with a stunning display of magic, she quickly fashioned a set that would easily rival them and yet fit him perfectly.

While he was being fitted, Twilight went into the back, and, a moment later, came out with a tea set floating in her wake.

“Can you tell me a bit about this Ball,” he asked Twilight as the sound of scissors and a sewing machine filled the background. And watching the pony manipulate so many items at one time was amazing.

“It’s in honour of someone on the other side of the portal. He’s been made an Honorary Knight of the Realm for his assistance in setting up the Embassy.”

Dumbledore felt his eyebrows go up a bit.

“We’d been stymied with our efforts back in August to get the attention of the muggle government when he appeared. He managed to get us to their Prime Minister in only a couple of days! And he has been indispensable since then.”

She smiled at him over her cup. “You’ll meet him at the ball, I’m sure. He, his wife, and his daughter are all three what you call Squibs. They have magic but not enough to be accepted by your school.” She looked at him slyly. “Unlike you and the other wizards and witches, the Searles, that’s their last name, of course, they are all pegasi.”

She sighed and frowned. “The Weasleys don’t follow the rule of magical ability through the portal, unfortunately. It’s Discord’s fault. He did something to them, so now their form on this side of the portal is the same as their animagus form on the other. It’s rather confusing when you have to deal with exceptions to scientific rules.” She sighed, then shook her head.

She looked at him inquisitively. “Do you have an animagus form? What is it?” Her interest began to develop with her questions. “Is it four-legged? Is that why you are familiar with quadrupedalism? How long did it take you to learn to do it? How old were you when you did it? Why don’t more wizards and witches find theirs?”

Rarity interrupted without looking up from her sewing work, “Twilight!” she said sharply.

Twilight stopped with her mouth open, then sheepishly rubbed a hoof on the back of her neck. “Uh, sorry,” she said.

He smiled back at her and finished his tea. “Yes, I have an animagus form. It’s a Nigerian Dwarf goat. It took me almost a full year, but then again I am gifted at Transfiguration. I was eighteen. And most don’t think it’s worth the trouble.”

“A Nigerian Dwarf goat. Huh. I wasn’t expecting that.” She sat silent a moment, thinking.

“Tada!” cried Rarity. She brandished a brilliant purple cloak with stars and moons on it with wide brown trimmings, at least as wide as his hoof, which held intricate designs in gold, red, green, and blue. The hat that accompanied the cloak was the standard wizard’s hat, but with the same intricate symbols on its brim and in a hoof-wide band at the base.

She explained, “I had already decided that I should keep your basic design, but with these as a sample,” She held up his dress robes, “I can do even better. Everyone will love your robes at the ball!”

When Albus looked closer he realized that the designs on the band of trim were actually the Hogwarts Houses’ symbols and colours in a repeating pattern.

He noticed the stars and moons were moving, just as they had on his dress robes.

She had managed all that in just the time he had been here? And without a wand? He shook his head in disbelief and admiration. Then he remembered that she did have a wand, just one that was attached to her head. Still, it was a delightful accomplishment in such little time, and it hadn’t been conjured. Wasn’t magic wonderful!

She swung the cloak over him, arranged it to her satisfaction, and then brought a mirror over. He looked magnificent! He couldn’t help but stroke his beard and admire his look. He wondered if that Sunburst fellow would be at the ball. And how this ensemble would look on his animagus form back home.

“It is superb!” he said aloud. “I applaud your speed and skill. No seamstress I know would ever have been able to do this so quickly and elegantly, and with such marvellous results!”

Rarity blushed. “I am the best fashionista in all of Equestria!” she said demurely.

“If this is a sample of your work, I would certainly expect that to be true.”

Blushing, she gathered her own gown and they set out for Twilight’s Castle. While not as big as Hogwarts, it certainly put to shame any of the pure-blood manors he had seen. Even in the night, it sparkled and glittered. That it was made entirely of crystal left him gobsmacked. The magical potential of such a thing was incalculable.

It took only a moment after he followed Twilight into the sitting-room before Percy Weasley said “Headmaster!” To say his students were amazed to see him was an understatement.

“Good evening,” He smiled at their reactions. “While Princess Twilight was visiting me earlier today, she invited me to the Ball this evening. I thought it would be interesting to see Equestria for myself. So,” he sat and spread his forelegs, “here I am.”

Twilight cleared her throat behind him. “I’ll leave you here while Rarity and I get dressed. The others should be down shortly.” Rarity had already headed for her room at the castle.

“You look splendid, Headmaster!” Percy said, smiling ingratiatingly.

Albus couldn’t help but look a little smug. “Yes, I think this cloak is perfect. Miss Rarity just made it for me when I arrived only half-an-hour ago! She is extremely talented.”

He stood quietly as they admired her work. He looked over to Sweetie Belle. “She’s your sister, correct?”

She nodded and went back to her conversation with Apple Bloom.

“Tell me, have you enjoyed your holiday?” he asked in general.

They eagerly started telling him of their adventures since they had arrived. Gradually, the others came down from their rooms until Twilight sent Harry to fetch the twins. He was inclined to take some of their commentary as exaggerations. But looking around the castle and remembering the fortress around the portal made him hesitate to so cavalierly dismiss them.

The adult ponies he easily was able to identify by the candy colours of their coats, manes, and tails. They were the same as when he had met them when they were dealing with the basilisk. He hadn’t been sure if their colours were only when they were animagi, and not their true forms. It was interesting to note that while their coat colours did not match their wizard and witch forms, their mane and tail colours matched their hair.

Having Rainbow Dash darting around the room almost at the ceiling as Scootaloo admiringly followed her gave him another clue as to why Scootaloo loved to fly.

Their arrival, via floo, in the reception room at Canterlot Castle was quiet, except Harry slid across the slick floor as he exited. He didn’t quite exit like a cannon ball, more like a football. Watching him trying to brake before he hit any pony, or furniture, was very amusing to the headmaster. He had to wonder if their version of the floo-network was the same as England’s. If it was English, they must have import the floo-powder by the ton.

That they used a hoof-pedal to dispense exactly the right amount of floo-powder was an interesting innovation, and prevented waste. And was simple enough that a child could operate it. And it had a lock to prevent childish mischief or accidents.

As soon as they had all gathered themselves together, Albus removed the floo-ashes. The auror ponies in the room took careful notice of what he cast. And cast the verification spell at each member who had come through the floo.

Maybe the Changelings were a bigger threat than he had thought?

Twilight then led them to the main ballroom. Being part of a Royal party, she took them through a special entrance, and bypassed the long line of ponies waiting in the corridor to enter.

Dumbledore had been to parties, both Ministry and not, but this ballroom put all the other locations to shame. The room glittered with gold embellishments and gems everywhere he looked. He checked the floor to see if it was anything more than the wood or stone he expected. The floor was marble, with gold inlays and an occasional gem. There had to be some sort of sticking charm on it, as he would have expected the floor to be too slippery for hooved animals to maintain their footing . . . hoofing.

The room was huge, easily double the length of a quidditch pitch for floor area. It was nearly as high as the goals on one — at least fifteen yards! There were two floors of balconies above the tables and chairs that lined the walls. The balcony railings were just high enough to prevent accidents, but low enough for pegasi to step up on to and fly across the room or down.

And fly they did. The orchestra was already playing, and a few were performing what could only be called aerial ballets.

Other ponies were already dancing in the middle. Astonishingly, they were split between couples or groups who danced upright on their rear legs and those that danced on all fours. He would have stopped to watch, but Princess Twilight didn’t.

The two princesses were standing to one side of the entrance and welcoming the guests. Beside Princess Luna, who really towered over him as a pony instead of being only a few feet taller, was another, a beautiful white alicorn, who towered over her. That had to be Princess Celestia, he guessed. Wearing a crown to match her sister made it rather obvious. That and the fact that theirs were the only manes and tails that drifted above and around them as if alive. And the colours were the embodiments of the night and day skies.

Beside them both were six other ponies — a pink alicorn, who also wore a crown, and five others. The first two, unicorns, looked comfortable and were exceedingly polite to their guests — and bored to Albus’ experienced Ministry Ball eyes. The three pegasi, beside the first two Princesses and before the pink alicorn, had the manner of mice in a snakes’ nest. Outsiders of low status, he would guess. Possibly one of them was the guest of honour?

Twilight led them over to join the welcoming line.

Albus was rather puzzled by this. He would have thought she’d go there herself and leave the rest to find their table.

“Sorry I’m late,” she whispered contritely as the adult ponies of their group lined up beside the last stallion in the receiving line, a white unicorn with two four-pointed stars on his flank — a gold one over a blue one, canted to make eight points.

The stallion gave her a quick disapproving glance. “The Princesses decided to open the doors early,” he whispered back. “Royalty should always be ready on time!” he reproved her. And managed to do it snootily, too, making it seem as if she were negligent in not being here much earlier. Rather impressive, Albus thought.

And it made him wonder why the unicorn thought he could reprimand the alicorn, given that her status was well above his. Was he related to the Royal family? If so, why wasn’t he an alicorn? Or could only mares be alicorns?

Princess Celestia looked over at her, and the group following her, and said, “And who is this fine stallion in the gorgeous blue cloak, Twilight?” She smiled at Albus, then glanced at Princess Luna. She smirked. “Is this your latest beau?”

The ponies in the line stopped and stared. As did every pony who had heard her.

Princess Twilight’s eyes shot wide open. She shrank back, startled, and glanced between Albus and Princess Celestia. “I . . . you . . . he’s . . . WHAT?!” she sputtered in a panic. She blushed a brilliant pink. An incredible accomplishment because even her fur turned pink!

Princess Luna had a smirk, as did the bigger alicorn. The three ponies between the alicorns were clearly clueless. But, by their expressions, they were relieved the attention was off of them, even if just for a moment. Both white unicorns rolled their eyes. The purple alicorn’s friends all burst out laughing.

Albus tried to keep his expression bland. Decades of politics helped. He merely projected an air of polite inquiry.

To Albus’ surprise, it was Harry who spoke up.

He sighed, and said. “Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, Prince Shining Armour, Prince Blueblood, . . . ,”

The boy had skipped over the three nervous ponies, telling Albus that he didn’t know them. Thus, he was correct in his judgement that the three were guests being honoured and introduced to the kingdom’s elite. They had to be the muggles mentioned by Princess Twilight.

“. . . this is the Headmaster of my school on the other side of the portal, Hogwarts, Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Headmaster Dumbledore,” and he proceeded to introduce the others to him. This gave the older wizard the opportunity to reaffirm who the individuals were in his mind. He nodded to each as Harry said their names.

“It is a pleasure and honour to meet you,” he said, as he awkwardly bowed when Harry finished.

“And he’s NOT dating my mum,” Harry added, making Princess Twilight’s fading blush return to nearly full strength. And the snickers and smirks to return to her friends, as well.

Several of the ponies in the line looked disappointed. He noticed that most of those in the line were unicorns. There were pegasi and earth ponies, but they seemed distinctly in the minority.

Princess Luna added, “And this is the newly christened Knight of the Realm Castor Searle, his wife, Milada Sarood, and his daughter, Thalia.” The three acknowledged his nod with ones of their own as they were named. She smiled at him, “I believe you would say they were squibs.”

Castor must be the one Princess Twilight had mentioned. Albus would need to talk with the man at some point tonight. The squib must be rather high in the muggle government to have been responsible for that Embassy he had seen. And for the two sister Princesses to bestow a Knighthood on him, even if it was honorary.

He also wanted to determine just how much the man knew of the wizarding world, and whom he had told. He needed to know just how much of the muggle government was aware of the wizarding world. He had thought it was only the Prime Minister, but this event meant that there had to be far more people involved. Had the English muggles noticed the true reason behind the “accidents” from the wizarding civil war?

Once things settled down, the welcome line rearranged itself. Albus took notice of the new order very carefully. Princess Celestia and Luna were first. Then came the Searles, which told Dumbledore that a political statement of some kind was being made, whether to the Equestrian society or the muggles, he wasn’t sure. Possibly both.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza was next with Prince Shining Armour beside her. Albus assumed Prince Shining Armour must be her husband. Next came Princess Twilight with Harry, then Prince Blueblood. Then the rest of Princess Twilight’s friends lined up, with the fillies beside their sisters. Princess Twilight indicated that he came next and then the Weasleys and Myrtle.

He wasn’t sure why he and the Weasleys were included, but he quickly learned that Twilight’s friends were all considered nobles of the realm and everyone addressed them “Lady.” Oh, dear. He hadn’t realized their importance. They acted nothing like the snooty influential pure-bloods he knew.

Harry did indeed hobnob with the important ponies in Equestria. He probably had as much political pull here as Albus did in the Ministry. Getting the boy to stay in the wizarding world would be a challenge if he wanted to leave.

The line was a rather unusual arrangement, he thought. He would have expected that the Princesses would be seated at the head of the room. But, perhaps, this was custom for them.

The line of ponies had once more resumed moving when he noticed a most unusual creature abruptly appear standing beside Princess Celestia, shaking her hoof in his hands. “So good of you to invite me!” it said. It towered over her, nearly twice as tall. In fact, if it had stood completely upright, it would have been twice as tall.

The creature bore a resemblance to a Chinese dragon, but had a horse-like head, with a deer antler on the right, a blue goat horn on the left, one long fang, different-sized pupils, a snake tongue, a goat beard, and white bushy eyebrows. It had the right arm of a lion, the left claw of an eagle, the right leg of a lizard, and the left leg of a goat. In addition, it had a bat’s right wing, a bird’s left wing, a horse’s mane, and a dragon-like snake’s tail with a white tail tuft.

Fluttershy noticed where Albus was looking and exclaimed, “Discord!” She happily ran up to the creature with a pleased grin. It was the most energetic action he had seen from her.

This was the wizard Discord!? He stared at the thing in shock.

۸-~-۸

100 — Détente

Albus was too far away to hear clearly what Princess Celestia said in reply. Fluttershy’s welcoming hug, however, was quite a contrast to everyone else’s reaction, which ranged from horror to exasperation. Mostly horror.

The line of ponies greeting the royals became noticeably shorter as those farthest from the thing discretely abandoned their positions and set out for the tables and chairs at a rather quick pace. New ponies entering the hall were clearly just as disturbed by the creature’s presence. Those already within easy recognition range were clearly too scared to abandon their positions for fear of being sought out later. Although, the longer he stood there focused on the Princesses and her friends the braver the ones at the end of the line became at abandoning it.

Albus studied the creature as best he could without leaving his place. He remembered quite well Molly’s description of the powerful wizard she had said was called Discord. After he discounted the creature’s current outlandishness, the similarities were apparent.

The wizard Molly had described had appeared to be made of the many different races of man. Discord, here, was clearly made up of the different races that made up Equestria. Based on that, that meant each different feature was from an intelligent race here. Albus pushed the implications of that aside for later examination.

What was more stunning, and took the forefront of his mind, was the overwhelming feeling of power radiating from the creature. He had thought Princess Luna was powerful when he had met her at Hogwarts, based solely on the aura leaking into her surroundings. He had expected her sister to be even moreso — based on how Harry and the three witches had said she was the older sister. Since coming through the portal, though, he had noticed that the ambient magic in the area hid magical auras — or, rather, an individual’s aura had to be very powerful before it rose above the ambient level enough for someone else to detect it. And then it only would be seen by those who were accomplished in seeing auras — very powerful and experienced wizards such as himself.

He had been able to detect Princess Twilight’s from several yards without a problem, but only if he stilled himself and searched for her. Lady Rarity had been almost impossible to detect even when she was casting spells constantly. If she had been quiet, she would have required the pony equivalent of homenum revelio to find her.

The magical background here dwarfed that of Hogwarts and the other magical locations with which he was familiar. Usually, if he concentrated on auras, he could detect almost any wizard in a hundred yards. Here, he could pick up a unicorn only if it was within a few yards. For the earth and pegasi ponies, he couldn’t detect their magic at all.

When he stilled himself here, the two sisters dwarfed both Princess Twilight and Princess Cadance. The sisters easily dominated the room, with Princess Celestia over-topping Princess Luna by half.

No wonder their manes and tails floated and glowed --- with so much magic, it had to manifest itself somehow.

At first, he had thought it an affection that the Princesses used to establish their station. But if their magic replenished at a high enough rate, was it merely a way for them to burn off their excess magic so it didn’t build up to deadly levels? Another thing to put off until later to contemplate.

Discord, however was radiating power like a bonfire, without regard for how it might effect those around him. Or what such power might spontaneously create without conscious direction.

“And Luna, my favourite dream-time invader!” Discord said, sliding suddenly to the side, “Still avoiding those pink dreams featuring you as the star performer?” A pink cloud appeared beside him, pulsating, and a faint moaning could be heard.

Albus could see her face turning pink and she started to sputter, much as Princess Twilight had a moment ago. Who was this creature to talk so intimately with a ruler of a nation? And how did they manage to blush through their fur?

“Can’t keep any secrets from you, can they?” he said, with an elbow nudge to her shoulder, and a wink from one of his eyes. The cloud disappeared, replaced by a miniature Luna looking into a pony’s head with a microscope — the scalp and skull were peeled to the side.

Discord suddenly twisted and was in front of the three pegasi. “Oh, you must be the guest of honour being honoured?” he said to Castor. He grinned wider than his face. “Let me guess, Shining Armor, right?” And then he leaned to the right, addressing the man’s wife. “And you must be Mi Amore Cadenza?” He leaned farther to the right. “And this is little Flurry Heart.” He looked her up and down approvingly. “What a dear you are. And such lovely ornamentation!” He made a show of examining her necklace. She stared up at him, as wide-eyed as her parents.

There were three of him in front of the three pegasi. The Discords bowed simultaneously. “I am Discord, and at your service,” they said in three-part harmony.

Everyone was staring at the three pegasi in surprise, even the alicorns. Celestia seemed to be most interested in the girl’s necklace. The others were clearly surprised by the names bandied about by Discord, especially the two from the Crystal Empire.

Albus frowned at the names Discord had used addressing the Searles. Could their names actually translate into those? And how had this Discord known that fact? How much time had he spent on the other side of the portal?

Or was he merely playing games with the rulers of the Crystal Empire? When the three Discords straightened, they said, still harmonizing, “Oh dear, those colours won’t do at all!” They snapped their fingers in sequence. Castor’s colours changed to a white-coat, with a light and dark blue mane and tail. His wing feathers had blue tinges at the edges. And he had blue hooves and eyes. Milada turned into a pink pegasus with a tri-colour purple, magenta, and yellow mane and tail. And purple wings, hooves, and eyes. Thalia also remained a pegasus, but with a light-magenta coat; violet, arctic-blue, and light-pink mane and tail; and pink feathers with a dark-pink edging. Her eyes and hooves were a light-opal.

Everyone stared at them, with the two from the Crystal Empire going wide-eyed in shock. If the two adult pegasi had had horns they would have been impossible to differentiate from the royal couple at a distance.

Discord had to be taking the piss, Albus decided.

The one closest to Thalia said, “Imagine the shock you’ll give your friends the first time they see you change into a winged pony!” He giggled madly. “You’ll be the life of every party!”

Albus wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have seen the other two miniature Discords wink at the adults. He tried to hide his shock. Had the creature just given a squib an animagus form? Squibs had far too little magic to initiate the transformation, even if they somehow managed the long and difficult training required to achieve such a goal.

Had he done so for all three?

Now there was just one Discord, in front of Castor. “I hope you’re more fun than the other Shining Armor,” he said, elbowing the uncomfortable looking stallion. He stage whispered, “He’s such a spoilsport, you know!” A miniature Shining Armor appeared prancing daintily around Discord’s head, with his head held high and back straight — and the bristles of a broomstick poking out under his tail.

Discord stood mostly straight and added, “And you’ve been doing such a good job of chaos, too, while pretending to bring order!” He wiped an oversized tear from his left eye.

His next victim was the pink alicorn. He smiled at her toothily. “And you’re still meddling in ponies’ love lives, aren’t you? Bending their little minds? Warping their emotions? Destroying their wills? All in the name of loovvee?” he said teasingly. He ignored her sputtering denials, but several of the listening ponies began giving her questioning looks.

The unicorn Shining Armor’s face turned red and he looked like he was close to losing his temper.

“Ah, Twilight,” he said fondly. “That pirate romance from the other side any good?” A mare in a long dress pranced into view, chasing behind her was a well-muscled pony in a pirate costume — with a rear pegleg and a parrot on his back. The mare kept looking back, but she wasn’t running away very hard.

Twilight stared at him in dismay.

“You know, the one stuffed under your mattress? How does it compare with the other hundred you’ve read?”

Her head dropped, blushing yet again.

“You know, writers are quite prolific over there. Over eight hundred romance titles hit the stands each month.” He grinned at her as her head snapped up eagerly. He wagged his eyebrows suggestively. She blushed and started to stammer that she really didn’t have that many, that she only read them when she had nothing else to read. He laughed and patted her shoulder.

Her five friends, and the three rulers, were giving her thoughtful looks. Shining Armor was staring at her in horror.

He looked at Harry as the colt tried to shrink behind Twilight.

“And you,” he said lovingly, “Who knew that one little unicorn could create such chaos across two universes merely by existing.” He sighed deeply, contentedly. “And it just continues to snowball.”

A giant snowball appeared over Harry’s head, then crashed down over him. Princess Twilight and Princess Cadance danced to the side in surprise, and then they hurried to brush off the snow. Which dissipated as soon as they touched it.

“And speaking of chaos,” he appeared in front of Sweetie Belle. “Who knew you were such a master!”

“The three of you have done me proud!” he continued, throwing his three arms across the three Cutie Mark Crusaders. Despite the fact that their sisters were separating them. “I can just sit back and enjoy the show.” He shoved a paper bag in front of all four of them. “Popcorn?” he asked. A row of Discords appeared in theatre-chairs watching a large screen on which Sweetie Belle’s cauldron was exploding.

The fillies, and Harry, looked more than a bit uncertain, and would have backed away if he hadn’t had such a good grip on them. Harry hesitantly reached forward and took a hoof-full of the treat. Discord smiled widely.

The creature appeared in front of Albus. They stared at each other for several moments. Then Discord sidled forward, bent low, and wrapped an arm over the Headmaster’s shoulders. “I really have to thank you for being such a secretive, manipulative bastard twelve years ago,” he stage-whispered beside the wizard’s flicking ear. “If you had told anyone about the full prophecy, he would have won the war by the end of that December. And the world would have gone up in smoke two years, nine months, and twenty-six days later as the russkies retaliated using nukes against those who were attacking them. And then set off their ‘secret’ . . . ,” actual quotes floated in the air as he said that word, “. . . doomsday nukes in the Ural Mountains a short time later.” He paused and leaned back, his eyes glittering. “Well done. Well done, indeed!” He shook the wizard’s hand enthusiastically — his paw had actually become a hand! “For that, alone, you deserve the name, ‘White Hat!’”

Albus stared back at Discord, eyes wide. How did he know of the prophecy? How long had this creature been watching the wizarding world? Had he travelled through it? How had he heard of the prophecy? How long had he been spying on them?

Discord grinned creepily, still pumping his hand.

For an instant so short Albus wondered if he had imagined it, the creature in front of him transformed into a tall muscular man, with a trident in one hand and astride a seapony. A fine spray of water hit his face, leaving the salty smell of the ocean. And a faint rumble as the floor under his hooves shook, as if there was a distant earthquake.

Then the creature was back to normal before Albus could so much as blink.

And Albus’ face was dry.

No one else seemed to notice anything unusual. As far as he could tell, no one but himself had seen the brief change.

Discord leaned closer. “I would have been soo disappointed if that had happened,” he said. His eyes flashed red for a moment.

Albus was suddenly glad he had not shared the full prophecy with anyone — not even the Potters or Longbottoms.

Discord suddenly looked at the Weasleys, still grinning. “And my favourite pranksters are still at work, I see.” He studied the twins for a moment, then chuckled. “Keep ’em guessing!”

Ron, Ginny, and Percy were guiltily relieved when the Lord of Chaos passed over them to Myrtle.

“Oh, my!” he said gleefully. “You have been making up for lost time, haven’t you? And not above using what you learned while a ghost to the best advantage, no less. All those secret passages that no one living knows about. Except you.” His creepy grin became even creepier. Three miniature Hogwarts’ students appeared behind his head, giggling naughtily as they ducked behind a statue close against his head.

His hand was still shaking Albus’ hand up and down, even though it was no longer attached to Discord.

The twins gave the girl a careful look after seeing just which statue the students used.

Discord paused, then shot back to Princess Celestia.

“You’ll treasure the days when you were bored by nobles trying to sneak through the laws, Tia.” He sighed contentedly. “It’ll be just like old times.”

The Princess gave him an alarmed look.

He draped an arm across Fluttershy’s shoulders. “Come, my dear, let’s check out the hors d'oeuvres.” His hand paw was back on his arm. And Albus’ hand was once more a hoof.

“But the welcoming line . . . ,” the yellow and pink pegasus weakly started to protest in a voice barely above a whisper, turning back towards her previous position beside Rainbow Dash. Discord laughed.

“I don’t think that’s a problem, my dear,” he said, glancing back at the Princesses.

Princess Celestia merely raised an exasperated eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. The line of ponies waiting to see them had disappeared. She shook her head ruefully and started towards the front of the ballroom.

Dazed, the rest of the group followed in her wake.

Almost as soon as they had arrived at the seating that had been reserved for them, a mob of ponies started arriving, as well.

It appeared that the welcoming line had been an attempt to cut off and manage the crowd of ponies now clustering around them. And there wasn’t the social pressure to continue into the room and let others meet the Royalty and their guests that the line at the entrance had imposed. Now they could just gather in a mob around them.

He noticed that the Princesses always had a cluster of nobles around them. Some listened, some offered opinions, some wanted to discuss matters of policy. The sisters pretended to be interested, but he could tell otherwise. He did notice, however, that Princess Celestia would look at Discord every once in a while and the very edges of her mouth would lift in a tiny smile. Then she would look at those around her and smirk. And her fiery mane and tail were quite animated.

The music was surprisingly close to what he expected to hear at Ministry parties. And like the private parties he had attended for all these years, the ballroom had a wonderful garden area on the other side of the exterior wall. Doors were reasonably spaced along its length.

He saw that Prince Blueblood seemed particularly adroit at escaping a cluster of ponies when they formed. More than once the Prince rescued the Searles from being overwhelmed, even though they tried to stay close to the Royal sisters to avoid being singled out. For some reason, the daughter looked to be attracting a bit more attention from the adults rather than her age peers. The Prince usually asked the daughter for a dance, or sent someone to ask her for a dance. The parents frequently took that cue and went to the dance floor, themselves.

The first time Albus tried to decline a dance, with the reason that he was too old, he received a puzzled look.

“You’re not on your deathbed, yet,” the mare said, looking him up and down.

“But I am unfamiliar with the dances you have,” he said.

“Phiff,” was her response. “I’ll teach you.” And cajoled him into dancing with her. After she had shown him the steps on all fours, and he was starting to get comfortable, she subtly grilled him on his political position on the other side of the portal.

It was surprisingly entertaining. And after that first dance he had a number of mares coming up to him. It was notable that the mares approached him as solitary dancers, and not groups as he saw on the dance floor and above it.

When a rather muscular stallion approached him, he was at first unsure. However, as he glanced across the dance floor, he saw a couple of stallions dancing together. Taking that as a cue, he accepted. Sunburst, unfortunately, did not appear to be attending this Ball, he saw.

However, the questions the ponies all asked became tiringly predictable. Not that he let that show. And he really had expected it. Preparation was always the key in these kinds of encounters. Let slip only the information you wanted released.

He noticed a bit later, when he was at the refreshments table, that some of his previous partners danced only with a dedicated partner. Or partners. Or spent the rest of the evening talking to definite cliques.

He had to smile. They must think him quite the amateur to think he wouldn’t notice. Or they assumed he wasn’t important enough for them to be concerned that he might realize what they had done.

The four witches managed to drag Harry out onto the dance floor, he saw, more than once. In fact, he saw several young mares asking him to dance as well. Seeing the boy’s expression every time some pony addressed him as Prince Harry Sparkle-Potter was vastly amusing. The poor boy didn’t know whether to be upset that they had addressed him as Prince or proud that the last name included Sparkle.

Dumbledore could only sigh at the problems that name would cause at Hogwarts and the English wizarding world in general.

Myrtle and Percy both danced as well, although Myrtle seemed to have stiff competition for stallions. Their lack of “cutie marks” at their ages seemed to draw more than a little attention.

The twins eschewed dancing for some reason, preferring to explore every nook and cranny of the room they could reach.

When the crush around the Princesses had slacked off considerably, he made his way to the Royals. This close he could feel not only their magical auras but it was actually warmer standing close to Princess Celestia. It was almost like standing in the sunlight. It was especially noticeable to him when someone walked between the two of them, like a cloud sometimes passes in front of the sun and everything is slightly cooler.

It made him want to just stand there and bask in the warmth.

“Princess Celestia,” he said softly, respectfully. It was such a strange experience to be looking up at someone so much taller than himself. He rather imagined it was how First Years felt talking with Rubeus.

She looked down at him. “How are you enjoying the ball, Headmaster?”

“It is quite different from what I am used to, but at the same time quite similar. And it’s Albus, please, your Majesty,” he said quietly.

She smiled. “Then in private you may call me Celestia,” she said back in the same low tone he had used.

“I would be honoured.” He paused briefly, then said, “Could you tell me about,” he pointedly looked up at a window where Discord and Fluttershy were sipping tea and discussing something. Their table, chairs, and they themselves, were sitting at a right angle to the floor. In fact, from their point of view, everyone else was on the wall and they were on the floor.

Her smile faded to a grimace. “Yes, the God of Chaos. You haven’t dealt with him, yet, have you?” She shook her head. “It would take a long time to explain everything.”

He looked around and said, “If you don’t mind, I’m not exactly in a hurry.”

She looked at him amusedly, then nodded. “We first met him thousands of years ago,” she started. Ponies listening in began to drift away. The stories weren’t ones they didn’t already know.

He tried not to gasp at the proof that the three were really older than the Roman Empire.

She went on to explain how the three tribes had first encountered the creature while fleeing the wendigoes. It was peaceful, if odd, at first, and more than a bit strange. But then, after the ponies had established Equestria, the sisters had fought with Discord. He felt he should rule, with chaos being the watch-word for the land. The Royal sisters, and the ponies, had disliked the extreme chaos he preferred.

Receiving confirmation that Discord was far more powerful than the two sisters was very disturbing. Her descriptions of his reality-bending feats left Albus staggered. And the implications from her stories that this Discord creature was as powerful as the two alicorns.

Each of whom, Albus now knew, could easily outmatch him in a duel without trying very hard.

If this creature was a wizard, then he made Merlin look like a baby in a crib. By every definition Dumbledore knew of, this Discord was a god.

The God of Chaos had ruled for an unknown amount of time before the sisters had sealed him away with the Elements of Harmony for over a thousand years. Recently he had escaped and then been rebound in stone. This time by the Element Bearers, named so because they had used the same elements formerly wielded by the sisters. Which the sisters, for some reason, could not use anymore.

And then the Princesses had freed Discord and tasked Princess Twilight and her friends with turning him into a friend. They had succeeded — for certain, loose definitions of friend.

Abruptly, Discord was sitting in a smoking-room chair beside them. The chair was, of course, smoking, and blowing rings of smoke into the air.

“Actually, my dear,” he said, “I met you ponies loonngg before then.” His eyes glittered and a smug smirk appeared on his face.

Albus stared at the draconequus, then glanced at the identical draconequus still talking with Fluttershy.

“Yes,” Discord said, “Multiple instances of myself are as easy as falling off a log.” He fell off the log that his chair had transformed into. He dusted himself off with a hand-broom that vanished as he dropped it. The smoking chair reappeared, with him in it. It was upside down this time, and rotated sideways in mid-air as he watched them and smirked.

Princess Celestia sighed. “And he has this annoying habit of popping up when you least expect it.”

The chair and Discord disappeared. A large metal box was on the floor before them, with a metal crank in one side. A few musical notes played as the crank turned, then the lid popped open. A life-sized puppet of the draconequus shot out, grinning madly. He was dressed in a pink cardigan and skirt, with a pink hat, purse, and gloves. “BOO!” he shouted, sending several nearby ponies scurrying away.

“And not showing up when you wish he would.” She glanced at Albus from the side of her eyes.

Discord simpered and cleared his throat, “Ahem,” he said in a sickly sweet voice, “As I was saying.” He gave them a sharp look, like Malfoy would give to a muggle-born for interrupting him.

“About six thousand years ago, give or take a few decades, I was wandering the Northern Plains. They’re now called the far Northern Wastelands, you know,” his condescendingly sweet voice made Albus want to grit his teeth. The creature sounded exactly like Senior Undersecretary Umbridge when she was being her most infuriatingly frustrating.

Discord was very familiar with the wizarding world, it appeared. Was anything unknown to this creature?

“It was just after having a delightful little chat in Shedet with Sobek. Eventually, I encountered one of those tragic little plays so common at the time.” He dabbed a pink handkerchief at the crocodile tear that appeared at the edge of one of his eyes. A crocodile that tried to crawl away before it was captured.

Discord in a Box disappeared in a cloud of pink smoke. The smoke suddenly formed into a little scene of four frantic ponies. There were two adults, an adolescent, and a foal, all in shades of brown and white. They were at a cliff’s edge, surrounded on three sides by a pack of wolves as large as they were themselves. The smoke changed into a three-dimensional image of the scene. From their actions, covering the two smaller ones and staying together instead of fleeing, Albus knew it had to be a family. He decided the larger adult must be the stallion, and the smaller the mare.

The cliff was hundreds of feet above the continuing plain behind the ponies. It very effectively cut off their escape. And with half their escape route cut off, it allowed the wolf-pack to group much closer together than would be normal. Which further reduced the odds of the family escaping.

Nearby ponies in the ballroom, at least the braver ones, crowded closer to watch. Several of the pegasi couples hovered overhead, watching.

The family of ponies, all earth ponies, had been crowded to the edge of the cliff. The adults were slightly in front of the two smaller ones, with the foal almost under its dam’s torso. The two smaller ones were trembling in fear.

They had a choice of fighting it out or jumping to their likely deaths. Or the adults could abandon the smaller two and flee. One, or maybe both, might escape if they did that. But with the number of wolves in the scene, he doubted any would survive such an attempt. There were too many wolves and they were too close to each other for a bolting pony to slip through a gap.

From their actions, though, the adults clearly intended to stay, hopeless though it might be. A horrible tragedy, from the watching ponies’ point of view.

A small Discord in a dark-blue business-suit appeared in the smoke above the scene, patting its mouth as it yawned in disinterest. “I almost passed on. Such things were a regular happenstance in those days, you know, old chap. Quite boring to watch,” he said in a fake British accent, a monocle appearing over one eye and a closed umbrella dangling from his arm.

“This time, however, it occurred to me to do something — unexpected.” Discord started smirking.

The stallion and the adolescent suddenly sprouted wings!

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

“Albus” Latin for ‘white,’ “Percival” for the Knight of King Arthur's roundtable who was granted a glimpse of the Holy Grail. “Wulfric” Anglo/Saxon. ‘wolf power’ or ‘wolf ruler.’ “Brian” means ‘noble man from the hills,’ and “Dumbledore” is ‘a style of hat that was made semi-popular in London in the 1880s-1890s’ (although Rowling says she wanted to associate his name with bees). Thus, ‘Albus Dumbledore’ means “White Hat.” And his full name translates as ‘White Knight Wolf ruler Noble from the hills Hat/Bumblebee.’ (Dumbledore’s name translation from https://www.hp-lexicon.org/character/dumbledore-family/albus-dumbledore/ and Brian https://www.momjunction.com/baby-names/brian)

102 — Deceiving Appearances

The Searles had just finished breakfast with the Royal sisters. They also had watched them switch the Moon in the sky for the Sun — again — and it still left them thunderstruck. There was no slow gradual dawn here. It went from the dark of night to early morning in a few moments. How the ponies had even developed the concept of twilight, the soft glowing light from the sky when the sun is just below the horizon but full night is not in place, they could not figure out.

The physics of the situation left Castor gobsmacked. He knew a bit about astronomy, enough to know that flat worlds were impossible. Anything natural over a certain size, a hundred kilometres or so, would collapse to a globe shape. Gravity did not allow any other choices.

Unless it had been built.

And the science to do that might as well be called magic. And then moving the Sun and moon to create night and day? It made his head hurt just to contemplate it.

There were two ponies waiting in the corridor for the Searles when they returned to their rooms.

It was Prince Blueblood and . . . Castor had to think a moment. Then he realized it was a pony named Fancy Pants, whom he had met the night before. And he was as pristinely dressed now as he had been then, if a bit less formal.

“Good morning, gentleponies,” the fancily outfitted stallion said as they approached. “I’m Fancy Pants. You might remember me from last night?” He smiled, his thin moustache quivering slightly. “I was hoping I might be able to meet with you this morning, if you aren’t already engaged?”

Unsure of what was going on, Castor said, “Of course,” and nodded back at the monocle-wearing white unicorn. “We hadn’t anything planned except to perhaps take a bit of a walk around Canterlot. It looks absolutely beautiful.” His wife and daughter nodded.

Fancy Pants exchanged a look with Blueblood. “Why, I would be happy to show you around our beautiful capital, if you don’t mind.” He actually looked like he would be happy to accompany them.

The Searles exchanged looks. Milada just shrugged ever so slightly. Castor looked back at Fancy and said, “I don’t see why not. It would save us having to ask the concierge about a guide. Just give us a moment or two to grab our saddlebags.”

“And freshen up,” added his wife.

“I want my camera,” said Thalia.

The Searles entered the main part of their suite.

Fancy Pants, still in the corridor, turned to Blueblood and said, “Thank you for escorting me, Prince Blueblood. I am in your debt.”

The blonde-maned unicorn nodded. “Nonsense. You would have done the same for me. And I am Ambassador to the United Kingdom, so it could be considered one of my duties,” he said, with a slight sniff at the end.

Fancy Pants tut-tutted, “Don’t be like that Prince Blueblood. We are friends, after all.”

“Hmm, yes,” Blueblood said with a slight smile. “Well, I will see you later, Fancy.” He turned and trotted off.

Fancy Pants shook his head slightly. “That stallion,” he muttered. He turned to look at Castor inside the suite. “I will wait out here until you are ready.” His magic grabbed the door and pulled it closed.

It was almost fifteen minutes later when they re-joined the blue-maned unicorn. The Searles all had their saddlebags. His daughter, on a whim, had decided to wear her necklace from last night. His wife had decided to continue the match with the bracelet. He refused to let them put the hair-band on his tail.

And Fancy Pants was as good as his word, giving them a delightful guided tour of the interesting and magnificent parts of the city. While he might not have been a practiced guide, he certainly knew the history of his city. And where to find the most picturesque parts, for which Thalia was quite pleased and thankful.

Castor was glad he had brought so much film!

The pictures his daughter was taking would be treated as gold, he knew, by the intelligence agents at home. And he would spend hours being grilled on each of them.

They were having lunch at a restaurant that Castor knew was far out of his price-range as a Warrant Officer in Her Majesty’s service. It wasn’t that he was an expert at translating pounds to bits, but the décor of the place just screamed money. That and the fact that the menus didn’t display prices — at all.

He watched as Fancy Pants delicately suggested plates that he thought they might like. And that didn’t require a lot of dexterity to consume. It was quite thoughtful of him. And showed that he had done more than cursory research before approaching them. Castor would need to watch what he divulged.

For someone Castor had expected to be a stuck-up gob, the pony was actually quite warm and personable. Ponyable?

After the waitress took the order, Castor turned to the unicorn and said, “So, what was it you wanted to discuss with us?” He raised his eyebrows.

Fancy Pants smiled. “Ah, yes,” he said, sitting back. The pony studied him for a moment. “You aren’t a diplomat, are you?”

Castor snorted as his wife smirked. “Not hardly. I earn my pay.”

Fancy Pants smirked back. “I’m sure you do.” He paused. “You strike me as someone who is or was in the military.”

Castor smiled back. Fancy Pants wasn’t a poof in a suit pretending he did useful things. He was an astute observer, and had the brains to know what he was seeing. Which reinforced the point that Castor needed to be careful what he said.

Castor leaned back, too. “Twenty years on both ends of the pointy stick.”

“Hmm. Yes. I can believe that.” His eyes flicked over him. “Even being a stranger to wings and four legs, you carry yourself well.”

They stared at each other. His wife and daughter watched. His daughter very interested because she had never seen her father like this, and his wife because she had rarely seen it, as well.

“To the point then,” Fancy Pants said leaning forward. “Your daughter’s necklace. Is that what it looks like? Aluminium? Might I inspect it?”

Startled at where this was going — aluminium? — Castor looked at his daughter. She looked back, just as surprised, but then took off the necklace — which was really weird to watch when she didn’t have fingers. She draped the necklace across her hoof and held it out to him.

His magic lifted it up and brought it close to him. He studied the wire-work carefully through his monocle. “Such intricate work. So light.”

“Yes, it is aluminium,” Castor said, confirming the stallion’s guess.

His wife put her hoof on the table, the bracelet very visible above her hoof. “As is this,” she said.

Fancy Pants leaned across the table, then said, “May I?”

At her nod, he unclasped the bracelet and studied it up close.

He sighed, and looked at Castor. “And such things,” he waved at the bracelet and necklace, “are common?”

Castor nodded, still not sure what was going on.

Fancy Pants looked at him very seriously. “Pure aluminium is very rare in Equestria. And expensive.”

Castor felt his eyebrows go up. He saw his daughter’s and wife’s eyebrows go up.

“I take it you aren’t wealthy?”

Castor shook his head mutely.

The unicorn sighed. “These two pieces are worth double your per annum.”

The Searles stared at him in shock.

“How much are they in your world?”

He and his wife looked at their daughter.

She stared back, then said, shakily, “Ten pounds.” She looked at the pony. “That includes the hair-band.”

He tilted his head at her.

“Mane or tail piece, I guess you would say,” Castor put in. “And make that ten bits instead of pounds. Maybe twenty if my per annum is lower than the normal yearly-wage for a worker here in Equestria.”

Fancy slowly nodded. “If I wanted to import, say, your weight in aluminium what would it cost me?”

Castor shrugged. “As ingots? I weigh about ninety-one kilos, so maybe three or four hundred pounds.” He sighed. “Given that your bits are solid gold, from what I’ve seen, and the current price of gold in my world? About three or four bits.”

Fancy Pants swayed where he sat, and for a moment Castor worried he would faint.

After a moment of blinking his eyes and staring out the window, he turned back to Castor’s daughter. “So if I offered you a bit for these two pieces of jewellery . . . .”

“Three,” she said automatically, “they’re a set with the hair-band.”

He stared at her a moment. “. . . three pieces of jewellery, you would consider that a steal as it would be two-hundred and twenty of your pounds?”

She nodded, stunned at the amount.

He looked at Castor. “I wanted to verify my suspicions, and ask you, if it was feasible, to arrange to sell me some aluminium directly. But this!” He leaned back. “An unscrupulous individual could make millions off the price discrepancy between our worlds.”

It was at that moment the waitress returned with their food.

Not a word was spoken until she left.

He stared at Castor. “How do we do this without either of us looking like we’re cheating each other, or the government?”

He turned and stared out the window. Then started to absentmindedly eat.

They slowly started on their own lunches, each lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, after the waitress asked them if they wanted a dessert — they didn’t — Fancy Pants said to Castor, “If I offer you twenty-seven bits per . . . kilo?” He tilted his head slightly in query.

Castor nodded.

“. . . which would give us both the same profit margin,” the pony continued, “at the current prices for the metals — nine-hundred and ninety-eight percent. If your numbers are accurate.” Twenty-seven gold coins drifted out of a pocket in his coat and formed three stacks in front of Thalia.

He looked at Castor. “We shall call this a proof of concept. A trial at metal trading across the portal.”

Castor nodded as his daughter and wife stared at him, wide-eyed.

“As aluminium becomes more available, the price will drop precipitously, so every exchange we do will have to be recalculated. But I think the price will go up before it comes down,” Fancy Pants continued.

Castor nodded again. “I think we need to get the governments involved in this. There may be other repercussions of which we know nothing.”

Fancy Pants nodded. “Yes.”

“In the meantime,” Castor said, “Why don’t you consider the two pieces here and the one back in the room as presents, and a down payment on the kilo of aluminium you just purchased.” He looked at his daughter, who was still staring at the twenty-seven gold coins as if mesmerized. “You don’t mind, do you, honey?”

She shook her head wordlessly.

There were only a few more places Fancy Pants felt they should see. And with business successfully concluded, to both their profits, he thought, it was as an even more cheerful guide. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that they returned to the suite at the castle. And delivered the third piece of the set to their new owner.

And even if the rest of the deal fell through, neither party would feel cheated.

۸-_-۸

The last Wizengamot of the year was normally a deadly-dull event. Usually, one after another of the aged members stood up. Each old fart talked about all the great things he had accomplished in the Wizengamot that year. And how wizardkind simply would not have had such successful a year without his inestimable and vital assistance. And so on, and so forth.

If it weren’t for the time-limit of ten minutes, the unstoppable train of member-after-member would have lasted well into the next day! If you included time-outs for dining and sleeping, it would easily have consumed the rest of the year, as well! As it was, it would take nearly all day.

This Monday, however, Dumbledore threw the train entirely off the tracks with the announcement of Sirius’ trial, and the reasons for it. There was some resistance, but as the trial was so sudden, those who were opposed to his release did not have the time to organize an effective campaign to declare him guilty, outright. And given the probable consequences described by the Chief Warlock if they tried to delay, the others were not of a mind to try to postpone the trial until next year. After all, they were convinced that Sirius Black was guilty of murder many times over. To let him go was unconscionable!

And, for almost all of the Wizengamot members, the spectre of a hostile Ministry imprisoning themselves or their heirs without a trial, or any legal recourse, was a weapon they did not want to hand to their enemies. Meaning, the trial had to be held immediately.

As Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones had had the remainder of Saturday and all of Sunday to marshal the evidence against Sirius Black. To say it was not much was a drastic understatement. Looking only at the evidence gathered at the scene, and discounting “popularly known” facts, it was clear that they had arrested Black simply because he was the only wizard in sight when they arrived. She, naturally, picked the best defence solicitor she knew and asked him to represent Sirius.

The sheer lack of evidence was a fatal flaw for the prosecution. The prosecution could only show that the wizard was at the scene, laughing, and seemed to be confessing to killing the muggles. The weight of the defence’s arguments — his wand having only miscellaneous spells, no wizard witnesses, the victim leaving behind only a finger — raised the bar even higher. Having him swear on his life and magic that he was not a Death Eater and that he had never supported the wizard known as Voldemort had been particularly convincing.

There could only be one decision from the court, despite Sirius Black’s opponents. The vote for his innocence was, for once, clearly based entirely on evidence and for the common good of all wizards. The more cynical observers noted that it was probably more of the old families trying to protect their own interests than any real belief in the accused’s innocence or guilt. In any case, the vote was nearly unanimous. The only guilty votes were from members that everyone knew hated the wizard, or his family, and who didn’t care what the evidence said.

A substantial amount of galleons were given to the wizard as compensation for his sufferings while in Azkaban, with the additional promise that all medical expenses would be covered by the Ministry for as long as necessary.

After the trial, no one was interested in making speeches to the other members. They only wanted to spin the story to the press that they had known all along of the wizard’s innocence, but that no one would listen to them. Or decrying how corrupt the Ministry was in allowing an innocent wizard from such an old and noble family to be sent to Azkaban.

Sirius, himself, was not heard from afterwards, as he was hustled directly from the courtroom to a private room at St. Mungo’s.

Albus and Twilight joined him a bit later, to assess for themselves his mental and physical state. And to bring him up-to-date on Harry Potter’s situation.

And, for once, the Daily Prophet printed the entire transcript of the trial, with wordy descriptions and pictures of his pensieve memories of what had happened.

The whole country, indeed, much of the world, was appalled at the injustice that had been dealt the poor wizard.

Naturally, there were those on both sides of the political spectrum who were unhappy with Sirius Black’s release, Albus knew. He could only hope his more stubborn allies would gradually understand that the wizard was not his parents. And that he wouldn’t necessarily follow the path his family had staked out over the centuries.

۸-_-۸

On Monday, Bright Star told Top Marks that a favourite aunt on her late father’s side had taken ill and was in a Manehattan hospital. She wanted to take several weeks off. Naturally, he gave her the leave of absence. “Are you sure you don’t want to go immediately?” he said.

“No. She’s quite old. We think it’s her time to go. The doctors say it will be several weeks, so I have time to set things here in order. No reason to leave you in the lurch.” She had smiled sadly.

He took it hook, line, and sinker.

Late that afternoon, she went through the portal. The guards were used to her carrying almost everything she owned when she travelled. They didn’t notice that this time she had only a fifth of her savings with her, and a fifth of the gems.

She went to Diagon Alley via the Embassy floo. Instead of heading directly to Ollivander’s — she had told Top Marks she wanted to discuss something with the old wand-maker — She ducked into an alley between two shops and changed her hair colour while darkening her skin to a nice tan. She took out two bits and concentrated, wand in hand, slowly changing the bits into galleons, and siphoning off the excess gold into a ring.

Then she headed a bit farther into the Alley, and rented a room for a month. As soon as the landlord left, she emptied her saddlebags of the bits, gems, and some of her books. A notice-me-not kept them out-of-mind. Then she went back into the alley, pausing to revert her appearance.

A few minutes later, she was inviting the old wand-maker to dinner to discuss wands.

It was a delightful dinner, if more than a bit different from what she was used to eating. But she needed to adapt, and she took careful note of how Ollivander ordered and what. He answered many of her questions about dining before they segued into wand lore.

Several hours after the shift-change, she returned to the portal. The new guards never noticed her saddlebags were quite a bit lighter than they had been. It helped that most of her trips were during the day-shift and these guards were unused to her habits, although they knew of her.

On Tuesday afternoon she again visited Diagon Alley. This time she visited the Truckle’s Trunks. And, over dinner and after several hours discussing expansion charms and their little quirks, she suggested Truckle contact the Equestrian Embassy about setting up a shop in Ponyville.

۸-_-۸

Harry stared at his mum from his chair at the table in the kitchen.

For once, he was alone. It was several days after the Ball. Ginny and Myrtle were off somewhere talking about, as Myrtle had gigglingly put it, “girly stuff.” Apple Bloom was helping her sister, just as Sweetie Belle was helping her sister. Scootaloo was off helping Rainbow Dash perfect her latest manoeuver. Percy was in his room, making notes, he said. Ron had decided to visit Fluttershy because he missed his pet rat, Scabbers.

And no one knew where the twins were. Or what they were doing. It made Harry a bit nervous when he thought about that, so he tried not to think about it. It was a lot like trying not to think about an elephant.

Harry was polishing off an afternoon snack.

He was just glad the four hadn’t been grounded for trying to get their brewers’ cutie marks. It wasn’t even their fault, really. They had been helping Berry Punch prepare her latest batch of beer for the tavern. Nobody had ever told them you could over-brew beer enough for it to catch fire. The sap sealing the barrels staves hadn’t helped.

Berry had taken most of the blame, saying that she had miscalculated the time the beer had been fermenting. The adults had mostly managed to disguise their dismay at that admission, which lessened the CMC’s planned punishment. Harry had been looking at Applejack at the time, and she was always just a bit slower at hiding her true feelings where the Cutie Mark Crusaders were concerned. The adults must have been hoping to give a punishment that would prevent any “crusading” until the students returned to Hogwarts.

The fermentation had been a bit longer than Berry had thought — by a month. Or maybe two. She couldn’t decide if the date on the side of the barrel they had decanted was ten, eleven, or twelve — she had been a bit less than sober when she had written it.

Fortunately, they had managed to save the barrels they had set aside earlier that day to start fermenting. And Sweetie Belle, cold sober, had written the date on them.

Well, at least the fire had happened before Berry Punch could salt the beer, so they hadn’t wasted any ingredients. And only one of the storage rooms had been a complete loss.

And they did get a stomping ovation from the Weasley twins. Ginny, Percy, and Myrtle had merely been stunned silent at the sight of the conflagration.

The speed with which mum had put down their next cutie mark crusade suggestion, to set up a foundry, had been truly impressive. And loud. And seconded by the other adults even louder.

That had led to mum declaring Wednesday as a “day to relax instead of crusade.”

Several ponies had asked just when it was that the students would be returning to their school. Hearing that it was less than five days away had made them inordinately happy. He knew there were at least two intending to celebrate the event.

But, at the moment, Harry was staring at his mum, who had a most curious expression. She hadn’t been in the kitchen a second ago. In fact, he had thought she was on the other side of the castle. Then she had slid past him from behind, slowly spinning while sitting. He turned and looked behind him. Nothing but an apparently solid wall. The door to the side was still closed. He looked back at her. She had stopped spinning.

She looked at him, and frowned.

He raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged. “I was in the Map Room, on my throne,” she said thoughtfully. “There’re two gems on the arm that didn’t used to be there. I pushed one. The throne slid back a bit and dumped me on a slide.” She blinked. “And here I am.”

She stood and started for the door.

Harry quickly followed.

Ten minutes later Harry bumped lightly against his mum, stopping the rest of his spin.

They were both sitting in the kitchen, again.

He looked up at her. “I wonder where the other button goes?”

Harry might have had a chance at keeping up if she hadn’t flown up the staircase. As it was, he reached the door just in time to see her disappear into the floor, again.

He had barely sat in the throne before he punched the other gem — and landed with a plop in his mum’s lap on the library reading couch a few seconds later.

They looked around the room, contemplating. He leaned back and looked up at her. “Do you think the other thrones all go to the same places?”

It was another race to the throne room. This time they both teleported. She still beat him.

Rainbow’s throne had a single button. Fortunately, mum decided she should go first. She was hovering, ready to catch him, when he shot out of a wall into the air three stories up.

Pinkie’s had two buttons. One went to the kitchen, and dropped them right in between the baking supplies and the oven, in front of a table. The other went to the deep end of a swimming pool.

Harry didn’t even know they had a swimming pool in the castle. Neither did his mum, apparently. The castle was still evolving, it seemed. Maybe. Perhaps.

But why did this make him think of the Sisters’ Castle and the twins?

Applejack’s led to the kitchen and the front door. Fluttershy’s led to the garden. Rarity’s, naturally, went to a sewing room — which was how they discovered the castle had a sewing room. Spike’s ran to either his room or the kitchen.

“Well,” his mum said, and slowly walked around the table and looked at each throne carefully. “That is certainly new.” She looked up at Harry who sat on Pinkie’s throne. “I wonder why those were added?” She glanced around the room. “Those buttons weren’t on the thrones before today or we would have noticed.”

Harry just grinned at her and punched the button. He heard her sigh as he disappeared into the tunnel on his way to the pool.

That evening, after dinner, Filthy Rich arrived with a contract. And a bag of bits.

When he left, the twins were more than a tad gobsmacked. And two thousand bits richer.

A thousand of those bits gave Rich exclusive marketing rights in Equestria to the twins’ gender-changing candies. With a pre-paid order for a thousand pieces that lasted for an hour each. As the first order.

With the hint that the next order could be ten thousand pieces if sales took off as he expected.

The twins were having problems believing there were that many pranksters who would be interested in their candies. They were thrilled at the order, but still puzzled.

Myrtle just laughed at them, and refused to explain. They were, after all, only thirteen and just discovering that girls could be interesting outside of the Quidditch field. Myrtle, naturally, had almost fifty years’ experience as an “observer of the human condition.”

She laughed louder and longer each time they asked.

Twilight, who was over-seeing the transaction, turned bright red during the discussions after Rich left. She, too, refused to explain why the candies could be so popular. She just muttered, “You’ll find out when you get older.”

And Sweetie Belle, when she was given her percentage the following day, realized she — and by extension, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Harry — were rich. The CMC would never have to worry about needing a job.

She knew exactly why the candies would be popular. And she, too, refused to educate the twins on why their candies would make them rich beyond their imaginations.

Which made Myrtle laugh even harder.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

Gold in the U.K in January 1992 was about £200.528 per troy ounce. Aluminium was about £0.24. Pure aluminium (better than 90%) in the 1850s A.D. was about £38.5 per ounce. Thus, aluminium was a very rare and valuable metal. We don’t see anything in MLP canon that might be aluminium, so we can say it is very rare.

103 — All Is Not As It Seems

Bright Star spent part of Wednesday afternoon talking to the proprietor of Slug and Jiggers Apothecary. She picked up several potions that the wizard said would help ease the passage of a loved one into the next Great Adventure. And several others that seemed that they might be useful — such as the Wit-sharpening Potion, Essence of Dittany, and Murtlap Essence.

After changing her appearance, she went into Gringotts to set up a vault.

“Yes,” the clerk said irritably, sneering at her.

Without a word, she laid the four gems she had on the counter.

He picked one up, looked at with a magnifying glass, and then gave her a long stare. “Eargit,” he called. “Take these, and her, to Master Knifethrower,” he said as the goblin arrived, handing him a sack with the gems in it.

After a puzzling trip in which she knew they crossed their trail at least twice, she was in a room with five goblins. One was seated, the other four were in the corners and armed with swords and spears.

“Before we do business, show me your normal form,” the seated goblin said.

She hesitated, then reversed her alterations to her human form.

He raised an eyebrow. “No,” he snarled, “Your Equestrian form.”

She stared at him as he stared back. She sighed. If she had to, although she hadn’t realized that Equestrian gems were that distinctive.

He studied her lilac coat, two-tone purple and teal mane and tail. He took special note of her cutie mark of a purple and white star with two blue glimmering streams of smoke above it.

“Your true name.”

Her eyes narrowed. While she expected the goblins wouldn’t mention her appearance or cutie mark, her name was another matter.

“If you desire,” the goblin said after a moment, “We can arrange your vault to be under another name. Your true name needn’t be known outside this office.”

She nodded slowly. “Starlight Glimmer.”

He grunted and picked up the gems, inspecting them one by one before placing them back in the bag. “Seventy-three thousand galleons for the four. No haggling.”

She looked at him a moment, then said, “Eighty-eight thousand.”

He glared at her. “Seventy-three thousand. No haggling.”

“I have more. Eighty-eight thousand. And I have contacts in the muggle world I could sell these to instead of you.”

He stood and slammed his hands on the desk. “Seventy-three thousand. No haggling.”

She sighed. “I guess I won’t be opening a vault.” She leaned towards the desk, hand stretched to grab the bag.

He snorted loudly and slammed his knife through the neck of the bag, pinning it to the desk. “Seventy-three thousand. But no fees while you live. Except on loans. And a free wallet.”

She paused and looked at him expectantly.

“And preferred treatment as a client,” he reluctantly added.

Then she smiled and slowly sat back down. “Excellent. It’s a joy to do business with you.”

He glared at her. “Pity I can’t say the same,” he growled.

“What are common names that won’t attract attention?”

The goblin wrote something on a paper, and dropped it into a drawer. Then he looked at her. “Are you an enemy of Princess Twilight?”

“Does it matter?” she asked curiously. Where had that come from? And why? There was an undercurrent there that she had been unaware of.

“Not in Gringotts.”

Oh, definitely, there was an undercurrent. Had someone else come through before the new security was set up? Had the Changeling contacted them? Or some other pony? She looked at him, considering. “We are not friends. If I could do her harm without risk, I would.”

He stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Keep your silly disputes outside of Gringotts. We will not tolerate violence inside these walls.

She nodded her understanding.

There was thump from the desk. Knifethrower opened a drawer and took out a paper. “There is a vault in the name of Bourchier. It is currently empty. If you adopt it, everyone will assume you are a lost relative from the continent.”

With her new name and a new appearance, Anne Bourchier headed for Truckle’s Trunks, again. This time she purchased an apartment trunk, furnished. Then she took it to her rental flat and transferred everything into it. After that, she placed another set of notice-me-nots on it and slid it under the bed.

That wallet was just soo much more convenient than carrying around a bag of bits! Why hadn’t anypony thought to do that in Equestria? It would have made banking so much easier. And don’t get her started on the expansion charms and apartment trunks! Such things would have made it soo much simpler, and more comfortable, when she was travelling the country. No need to sleep in the wild, her favourite foods always available, showers and rest stops at her pleasure. All the conveniences of home, but you could carry it with you. Ha! And ponies thought that snails had it good carrying their homes.

Celestia! She had to shake her head ruefully.

The things the wizards had done in the last few hundred years dwarfed the accomplishments in Equestria in the last thousand. The floo-network alone would completely revolutionize pony society! Never mind what wands would do to it — the entire educational system would have to be rebuilt! And flying carpets for families and small cargo? Unbelievable. And then there was how the feather-weight charm was going to change how goods were shipped!

The ponies seemed to have been stuck in the thought, “my mother did it this way, so I will, too!”

All these inventions from the wizards were going to make Equestria almost impossible to recognize in a mere generation.

And speaking of snails, muggles made both wizards and ponies look like they were barely moving with innovations! Airplanes for those that can’t fly, and that flew at incredible speeds. Trains that were almost as fast. Ships that were the size of cities! All things that didn’t even exist a mere hundred years ago.

And communications! Telephones and televisions were going to structurally change how society functioned! And their weapons? Those made her shiver in fear.

She had to shake her head in resignation.

Ponies were such dolts.

But they were fast learners. The EUP Guard was already dramatically changing their tactics and training. The next foe to attack Equestria was in for a big surprise. A very unpleasant one, for sure.

Thursday, she told Top Marks she wanted to peruse the books at Flourish and Blotts to see if anything new on wands had come in. And to pick up a few interesting books to read while she was in Manehattan.

He hoofed her a few galleons.

“They are research materials. The cost should come out of our budget!” he had insisted.

She accepted the coins. The books she purchased with those galleons, she would have somepony ship back from Manehattan in two weeks. And they would provide excellent proof that she really was in that city. Naturally, they would also serve as a cover story and hide that she was moving more of her belongings to the other side of the portal.

۸-_-۸

Broderick looked at Albus dolefully. The pensieve sat on the table between them. They had just finished reviewing his evening in Equestria. A small vial with a silvery liquid in it sat to one side. The Unspeakable sighed as he pocketed the vial.

“This will have quite an impact on everything,” he said sourly.

Albus nodded. He mentally shuddered. He couldn’t help by wonder how would this affect the prophecy.

They both stared at the pensieve.

“I propose we officially call them Equestrians,” stated the Chief Warlock, “as that appears their preferred name for themselves.”

Broderick nodded.

“That they are actually from Atlantis should be strictly unofficial.”

He nodded again.

“I suggest that no official notice of this . . . god . . . should be made. We’ll merely pretend that he is a powerful wizard, perhaps more so than Merlin. But nothing more will be said. If it became known just how powerful he is, there would be mass panic — once everyone realized just what that meant. And we might attract his direct attention.” Albus shuddered at what Cornelius might do on meeting the creature. Besides fainting.

Although, considering the general state of the Ministry, there really wasn’t much he could to add to the everyday chaos.

Broderick was always a wizard of few words, he simply nodded.

“I’ll show this memory, edited to remove that portion, to the Minister,” the Chief Warlock continued. “And present the conclusion that the portal changed the ancient wizards into ponies. And that families with squib relations might want to encourage them to move to Equestria to represent their families’ interests in that world. Plus, while there, they would be pegasi and could at least be a meaningful participant in a magical culture. And their children, if they had any while over there, might be full wizards or witches when they came back here. Especially if they married an Equestrian.” Albus shook his head. “It is a truly magic-rich environment.”

The meeting didn’t last much longer. There were only minor details left to discuss. And Broderick had been at Hogwarts most of the day reviewing the memories in the pensieve.

Albus hadn’t yet decided how to deal with the muggles being aware of wizardkind’s activities. Which he had carefully edited from the memory he had just shared. And the one he planned to show the Minister.

That kettle of fish needed to simmer a bit longer before he made any decisions.

۸-~-۸

Their failed attempt at making perfume had gotten the Cutie Mark Crusaders a lecture from Fluttershy on not traumatizing skunks. And an order to let them leave if they wanted. And to apologize to them. And to promise not to ever do it again.

And ensured that everypony stayed at least five yards away from them at all times for the rest of Thursday. Not to mention that everypony with a wand or horn very quickly learned the air-freshening spell out of the Hogwarts’ spell-books.

The skunks looked envious of those with wands and horns. Who knew that they didn’t like that concentrated a smell of their defence mechanism. It kinda made sense — it was for defence, not practically taking a bath in. And, usually, they got to run away after spraying their annoyance. This time they had been forced to stay around. And, boy, was it strong!

At least one pony went to the Portal Buildings and acquired a wand just to learn that spell.

And the Cutie Mark Crusaders learned that the normally shy and quiet Fluttershy could yell very loudly, even from across a garden.

And to think, normally you had to stand with an ear almost in her mouth to hear what she was saying. It was quite impressive. And still made them feel bad.

The most depressing part was not getting a cutie mark for their troubles.

On the bright side, there was only a little bit of sap involved in that adventure

Then came trying to be detectives. They wanted to find out what the twins were doing wandering so randomly around the castle. The twins were surprisingly effective at evading them. They would be on one floor, then suddenly they would be on another. Sometimes on the opposite side of the castle! Scootaloo insisted they must be teleporting, but Harry wasn’t as sure.

Detective work was boring! Sure, at first it was fun hiding and spying. But after a short while where nothing was happening except watching as the twins stood and talked, and then they had to hunt for the missing twins who had just been right there, it wasn’t nearly as intriguing. They spent Friday afternoon and evening, and Saturday morning and afternoon trailing after them before the Crusaders called it quits.

Myrtle, for some reason, was very amused by their attempts at being crafty and sly.

No cutie marks, there, either. But then again, they hadn’t solved a case so maybe that was still a viable crusade — just not a very exciting one. Maybe they could try for that one at Hogwarts. But were there any mysteries there to be solved?

After dinner, they started out for the Portal Zone. Harry could hear what suspiciously sounded like cheers coming from Ponyville when they reached Sweet Apple Acres. But it was probably just the wind in the trees. Yeah. That had to be it.

Only . . . were those fireworks he heard? Naw. Couldn’t be. Must be his imagination.

The security going back through the portal was very strict indeed. Everything was thoroughly checked — three times! They even used a spell to see if the ponies headed for the portal were concealing something inside their bodies! And went through their saddlebags very thoroughly.

They spent the night in Little Whinging.

۸-~-۸

Bright Star looked around the Guard Station in Manehattan. The very large, and new, floo was centrally placed in the transport room. There was more than enough space to accommodate a hundred or so ponies. In fact, it reminded more of an exercise auditorium, implying that they could quickly organize for large numbers of incoming or outgoing troops.

The guard at the desk nodded to her after she recovered her balance. She noticed there were two teams of pegasi with the new machine guns located behind small enclosures in opposite corners of the ceiling. A unicorn stood with each. Anypony trying to attack through the floo would have a real battle on her hooves.

The books from the human’s world on military tactics, with modern weaponry, had been taken to heart by the Princesses, it seemed.

The trip hadn’t been as smooth as the trip to Canterlot had been. Maybe she should have waited and not had lunch before traveling. But she had needed a bite and a rest after spending the morning digging up a couple more gems. She had found only three more after digging and wandering for two hours. Which gave her a total of thirteen.

But, still, she was all the way to Manehattan, now. Just ten minutes ago she had been in Ponyville. That beat the tartarus out of walking, taking the train, taking an airship, or even just teleporting. And this way she didn’t arrive exhausted from a trip. And the speed was breath-taking. Even if lunch wanted to come back for a second try.

Yet, here she was.

Fortunately, a city map was located on the front wall and she quickly located where the three hospitals were that served the city. A few minutes later, and she was past the Station gate and in the city.

It seemed silly that it took far longer to walk ten blocks than it did to cross the country. But, she decided, that was the wave of the future. And she had better get used to it because it was the way wizards travelled.

It took a few hours. She had to be careful to raise no suspicions with her questions. Colour-changing her appearance and cutie mark each time would help throw off anypony trying to track her after she left. It wouldn’t look right for Bright Star to not know where her relative was spending her last days.

The first hospital was a bust. No one on the terminal care floor would kick off in the next month. So was the second. The third, however, had the perfect patient. An old unicorn mare, no close family, and soon to pass on.

She left the hospital, changed back to her Bright Star persona, and located a hotel down the street. After checking in, she headed back to the hospital.

She asked a nurse for Ember Glow’s room number, found it, and then went in. She pulled over a chair, made herself comfortable, and laid a hoof on the sleeping old mare’s foreleg. She looked around the room, studying where everything was. Then she pulled a book from her saddlebags and started reading. If she acted like she belonged, nopony would object.

“Who are you?” came the hoarse, weak voice sometime later.

Bright Star looked up from her book and met surprisingly clear eyes watching her.

“No one should be alone at a time like this, Auntie Em,” she said quietly.

The mare closed her eyes. “Oh,” she said. And went back to sleep until a nurse came in with dinner.

“She’s my Auntie Em,” explained Bright Star to the puzzled pegasus.

The old mare had stared at her a moment, then smiled at the nurse. “That I am,” she whispered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Bright Star said to the sleeping mare before she left later that evening. She would eat a late dinner, and tomorrow an early breakfast. Then take a long lunch to run a few errands. Such as finding a lawyer to mail the letters at regular intervals — she would use another alias for that chore.

But she still wanted more than just the hospital-ponies to see her as Bright Star. And she needed someone to take her place when she left next week. Hopefully, the mare would hang on for at least two more weeks, if not three. If she was really lucky, maybe six.

In the meantime, the mare would have a comforting presence during her last days. And Bright Star would get some important reading research done on her planned new home.

۸-_-۸

Harry was very disappointed that his mum refused his suggestion to take the floo to Hogsmeade at dusk, and then walk to Hogwarts. He would much rather have spent the day with her. Bon Bon and Lyra were probably already there, with a trunk, so the students might even have been able to floo directly to the castle. But, no, they had to take the train.

The train trip was as interesting as a train trip. That is, the only interesting part was when the trolley lady came by with the sweets. At least for them. Hermione, on the other hand had been completely gobsmacked at her presents from Equestria. And she was just as stunned at their adventures there. Harry was sure she thought they were joking when they mentioned the Harmony songs. Even Myrtle chiming in didn’t completely convince her. Then they lost her to her new book.

So, it was on to gobstones.

However, by the time the trolley lady had arrived, they were ready for something else. Myrtle disappeared to be with her friends, and to regale them with her adventures. And observations. Percy was patrolling the train, and being rather officious about it. The twins had been coming and going the entire trip, so far. Harry didn’t understand why they kept coming back instead of staying with their friends. Unless it was to make sure they didn’t miss anything exciting — the Firsties were developing something of a reputation.

Or maybe it was just to mess with Ron and Ginny. They were having fun taking the piss of Ron about Scabbers. Professor McGonagall had assured him that the house-elves would easily take care of his pet rat while he was in Equestria. Unless he had finally died of old age . . . .

Later, there was a knock on their cabin door. Apple Bloom, being the nearest, opened it.

It was Draco and his boyfriends. He scanned the cabin, stopping at the twins.

For a moment they all just looked at each other. Ron had just opened his mouth to say something when Draco bowed slightly. It was oddly cordial. He stared at them with narrowed eyes, silent, then took an envelope out of his pocket.

“I don’t like you,” he said, his glare sweeping across them, again, to stop at the Weasley twins.

“However,” he said frostily, “my father has instructed me to give you this.” He held the letter out to the two tall redheads.

Fred took it with raised eyebrows.

“My father expects your owl at your soonest convenience, but no later than Friday.”

He again glared at the people in the cabin. He started to close the door, but stopped. “I know you turned me into a witch.” He glared at the twins. “I will get even.” He slammed the door shut.

They looked at each other, astonished. That was the politest he had ever been to them outside of the first week of school.

“Well,” said George, nudging his brother. “What does it say?”

Fred took out his wand and cast several spells at the envelope. He blinked, then shrugged. “Well, no curses, at least.”

He broke the seal, unfolded the heavy paper inside, and read it. His brother peered over his shoulder. Both their jaws dropped. It was funny to watch. Not as funny as it would have been in Equestria — their jaws weren’t impossibly stretched — but still funny.

Fred audibly gulped.

Hermione said eagerly, “Well, what is it?” She started to stand to peek at the letter, “Don’t keep us in suspense!”

George cleared his throat. “He’s ordered a hundred of our gender-changing candies at a galleon each, payment on delivery, as a sample to test the market. With a contract that he won’t try to discover how they work without our express permission.”

Fred had recovered by then. “And the possibility that if the candies work as he expects, he will offer to buy the formula, complete, for ten thousand galleons.”

They looked at each other, then said simultaneously, “We need to talk to dad!” They spent the rest of the trip huddled, whispering.

۸-~-۸

The three fillies stopped and stared at the carriages. “What’re those!” Scootaloo half-whispered.

“I dunno,” said Apple Bloom.

“They sorta look like night-ponies, but they’re so much bigger,” said Sweetie Belle.

“An’ they look meaner, too,” said Scootaloo. “Like they’re starvin’.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked.

The others in their group were staring that the three Equestrians who were staring at the space in front of each carriage.

“Those . . . giant night-ponies?” said Sweetie Belle, pointing at nothing, as far as the others could tell.

“Those,” came Percy’s fussy voice from behind them, “are thestrals.”

They all turned to face him.

“Thestrals?” Hermione asked.

“Yes,” he said, in the same tone. “You’ll learn about them if you take Care of Magical Creatures.” He sighed. “You can only see them if you’ve seen someone die,” He said sadly, and shook his head. “There’s a herd of them in the Forbidden Forest. They always pull the carriages.”

He looked at the three fillies. “You’ve seen someone die?” he asked quietly.

The three Equestrians shuddered. “Yeah,” Apple Bloom said quietly. The other two nodded.

He glanced at the others. “They look like starving horses with bat wings.” He gazed at the space in front of the carriage. “I’ve only seen textbook pictures of them. They look very frightening. But Professor Kettleburn, he teaches that subject, says they are like any other horse — just stay away from their teeth.” He sighed. “Oh, and they eat meat.”

He shook his head. “Okay you lot, get in the carriages before they’re all full.”

The ride up to the castle was quiet. The others kept looking at the Equestrians, but none of them wanted to be the one to ask whom they had seen die.

Harry knew it must have been during the changeling invasion of Canterlot, at Princess Cadance’s and Shining Armor’s wedding. The fillies avoided talking about that as much as possible.

۸-~-۸

The Headmaster took a slow amiable look around the meeting room. It was just after lunch on Sunday and the elves had cleared the table. “First, let me say to those I haven’t had a chance to yet, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas hols. It was quite peaceful here at Hogwarts, with nothing exciting to report at all. Quite a change from the previous four months.”

He smiled expansively, eyes twinkling.

Several cast questioning looks at the pensieve on the table near his seat.

They discussed the soon-to-arrive students for about an hour, and a few last-minute items were discussed to death.

Pomona spoke last. “You remember I had the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors carrying the Walking Plants for several weeks?” They nodded, although some were clearly bored.

“Well, I finished collating the results.” She shuffled some papers in front of her on the table. “Naturally, as expected, the Walking Plants in the study had better foliage and more growth than those that were kept back at the greenhouse — about five percent more — a response to the attention they received.” She looked up at the room and smiled. “However, the plants carried by Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Harry Potter were significantly better than the others carried by the Hufflepuffs and the other Gryffindors — they increased by between fifteen and twenty percent! Except for the two carried by Ronald Weasley and Apple Bloom. Ron Weasley’s plant had almost twenty-five percent thicker foliage and growth, while Apple Bloom had just under forty percent.”

She looked up, eyes shining. “I recruited Percy Weasley to also carry a Walking Plant for several weeks. It showed almost a thirty-percent increase in thicker foliage and growth. Perhaps because his magic is older and more mature.”

She shivered slightly. “It seems that having an earth-pony animagus form conveys an ability to dramatically increase a plant’s growth. And that even just being from Equestria provides a boost, especially for earth-ponies.” She stared at them, her eyes settling on Severus. “Do you understand the implications this has on farming? Does it also increase a magical plant’s potency in potions?”

She grinned at Severus’ raised eyebrow. “I would like your permission, Albus, to recruit Apple Bloom, Percy, Ron, and Severus into some experiments with potion ingredients.” She looked at him hopefully, and slid a folder down to him.

Albus smiled at her enthusiasm. “We shall see what the students think of that opportunity. And if Severus has the time.”

She happily sat back.

Severus was still staring at her folder, a contemplative expression on his face. Albus knew the wizard would make the time, if he had to.

Albus straightened and sighed. “If there is nothing else?” He looked around the room. Several people were surreptitiously gathering their papers in anticipation. Severus stayed still, he knew there was more coming.

There was a chorus of soft “noes” in response.

He nodded and took a deep breath. “I do have some news, before you all go.”

They paused and looked at him, several sitting back down.

“I was fortunate enough to be invited to a Ball in Equestria the Saturday before last.” He looked at the pensieve on the table, then back up.

“I must confess, I was wrong about the Equestrians we have met, and where they come from. The situation is far more complicated than I ever suspected.” He pursed his lips..

“Everyone in Equestria is a pony.”

۸-_-۸

104 — Unpleasant Surprises

The outbreak of astonished disbelief was expected and Dumbledore waited it out. “When I went through the portal, I became a unicorn, which is, I assure you, not my animagus form.” He reached over the table and tapped his wand on the pensieve. The memory of what he had looked like while being dressed at Rarity’s, as well as the other two ponies played out, projected in the air over the table. “You will note that the furnishings, and the dimensions of the room, are all arranged to fit a pony, not a person.” The pony mannequins clearly illustrated his point.

The magic displayed the memory background depending on where you were sitting, so nothing obscured anyone’s vision.

They watched in rapt attention, with an occasional surprised remark, as Rarity manipulated many objects simultaneously without a charm.

The heavily edited memory, primarily so they wouldn’t be here all day, skipped to Princess Twilight’s castle, just as he came in sight of it, and continued onward to inside where he meet the others. Their astonishment matched what his own had been.

“I’m sure you recognize Harry and the Weasleys, as well as Miss Belle, Miss Bloom, and Miss Scootaloo, having seen them as ponies before,” he commented. “This one is Miss Warren.”

They gasped as Spike brought in a tray with a tea set on it. And gasped again at his conversation with the ponies. A dragon so small, and intelligent, was unheard of in their experience.

The scene skipped to just before they floo’d to Canterlot. He paused it and pointed out the ponies they hadn’t met yet.

It resumed as they entered the Ballroom.

Their gasp, as they saw the size of the room and the numerous ponies sitting, walking, and flying, was loud. Only Severus was quiet. But, then, he had seen all this in the pensieve last week, and in much more detail.

The memory skipped around, edited to remove the “boring” parts. He made sure to include his brief encounter with the impressive Griffonstone Ambassador.

Seeing and hearing a griffon, to them a dumb beast, carrying on an intelligent conversation left them mumbling in wonder.

The memory skipped the part where the prophecy was mentioned, but paused at the instant Discord changed in front of Albus.

“This is the creature responsible for everything,” he said quietly.

“Poseidon,” gasped McGonagall, echoed by several others.

“I believe he pretended to sink Atlantis in an Earthquake, using that as an excuse to hide the island from our sight. I believe he transformed the inhabitants into ponies so long ago that they believe they are ponies and not wizards and witches. I believe he has hidden them from the rest of the world until now. And I think he has designed the portal so that it operates the way it does on ponies and wizards.”

He stroked his beard for a few minutes as the staff reacted.

“I believe that’s why there are so many connections between our Greek histories and Equestria. Equestria is Atlantis from those histories.”

Albus allowed the edited memory to continue until just after Discord revealed the origin of the pegasi.

“This creature is a true god, not just a powerful wizard, as far as we are concerned. He changes reality to whatever suits his fancy at the moment. I could feel his power, and it was much greater than mine. And you just saw him give three squibs animagi forms.”

They sat stunned at the revelations. Quirinus was paying close attention and seemed deep in thought.

“The Equestrians, Atlanteans, we see are his friends. We must tread carefully here. Even the Princesses Celestia and Luna are careful of what they say and do in his presence.”

He gazed at everyone. “The three Equestrians are students, do not treat them any other way. Their two minders, Miss Bon Bon and Miss Heartstrings, are to be treated with respect. We do not know if this God of Chaos is paying attention to them or not. Do err on the side of caution.” He waited until each Professor and staff member had acknowledged his order.

“Finally,” he said, “I have been informed that Harry Potter has been officially adopted by Princess Twilight into her family. In Equestria,” Albus paused and looked around the table. “In Equestria, he is now Prince Harry James Sparkle-Potter.”

There was a new uproar. He again waited it out. Severus sneered at the repetition of the news. Already convinced Potter was pampered and spoiled, he couldn’t imagine how impossible the boy would be after that.

“However, here, he is still Harry James Potter. Nothing has changed. And I expect everyone to treat him that way.”

He smiled and said, “And that concludes our first meeting of the year. I believe we all have a last few errands to complete before the students arrive, so, good afternoon.”

He sat back and watched them leave.

۸-_-۸

Elly was delighted to be back in Hogwarts. While visiting with the Abbotts had been interesting, the opportunities to maintain her reserves were better at school. If she had to depend on the Abbotts, alone, she would run into problems sooner rather than later.

It was a new term at Hogwarts. Some students were seeing their significant others, or those they hoped would become their significant others, for the first time since before the holidays. Elly had found that a bit helpful. She had spent most of the trip on the train wandering up and down the corridor, pausing outside the cabins with the most generous outpourings of love.

She had been comfortably fed by the time they arrived.

She now had six jars filled, and after she off-loaded the excess she would have almost seven. That should be more than enough to last her through the summer, without her having to be frugal. She couldn’t splurge, of course, but more than enough to keep her comfortable. Whatever she managed to acquire between now and then was just . . . was the phrase extra icing on the cake right?

The sight of the strange skeletal horses pulling the carriages had thoroughly spooked her. Especially when several had turned to look at her. Giant night-ponies? Here? Did they know she was a ling?

Only her faith in her new default-form kept her from fleeing. She didn’t look like a changeling, now did she? And she wasn’t using any magic to maintain her form, was she? That, and none of the other Hufflepuffs seemed to see anything amiss. Which left her wondering what was going on as students talked about the horseless carriages.

Couldn’t they see the night-ponies?

However, the more she looked the less certain she became that they were night-ponies. For one, they looked like they hadn’t eaten, or had enough to eat, in weeks. For another, they didn’t seem the least bit concerned at seeing her. They kept their silence.

Still, she kept a close eye on them, both at the train station and at the castle.

In any case, tonight she intended to visit the room with the mirror one more time. Had anything changed? Waiting through the second term feast was nerve-wracking, but she managed to mask her impatience and presented a happy face to all her friends.

Nothing had changed, she saw. She was still a Mother Queen with her children around her. Although some of the wizards and witches she saw to the sides looked suspiciously like her classmates in Hufflepuff. And then she thought she saw that one of those in the back had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. She stared at the mirror, but it didn’t show up again. Had she imagined it? Was she imagining it? Could this be a possible future? Or only her dreams made visible? Or was it trying to fool her. She couldn’t become a Mother Queen — could she? And she knew some of the lings she saw, her friends, classmates in the hive, were dead. Weren’t they? Could she be wrong? If this was showing the future . . . then she wasn’t alone!

She could feel herself getting excited at the prospect. She wasn’t alone! She carefully examined every ling she could see for wounds.

She was about to leave when she heard the distinct sounds of people outside the room she was in. She darted to a dark corner and was about to become a wall when she had second thoughts. A green flash from an empty room at night would simply draw their attention.

Instead, she crouched down and cast the notice-me-not spell she had discovered in one of the advanced textbooks. It hadn’t been easy, at first, but steady practice had done the job. Then she cast a silencing charm on herself. It didn’t make her invisible, though. As long as she did nothing to draw interest, they would see her, but not really notice her. Once she had the skill and power, it would be the next best thing to being invisible.

“How did we end up here?” came from the corridor. It sounded like Hermione. “That portrait always used to take us to owlery.”

“Magic,” came the dry response from . . . Harry?

“Hey, look in there!” That was definitely Ginny. And it sounded like she was right beside the open door.

A moment later, all seven of the “pony-posse” walked into the room.

“There,” she said, pointing at the mirror. “I thought I saw something.”

“What is it?” said Ron.

“It’s a mirror,” said Sweetie Belle, stepping in front of it. Then she gasped in shock.

“What does ‘Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi’ mean?” asked Apple Bloom, as she stared first at the mirror’s frame, Sweetie Belle’s gobsmacked expression, and then at Hermione quizzically.

“Forget that!” said Sweetie Belle, grabbing and pulling Apple Bloom to her. “Do you see that?” She pointed at the mirror.

Apple Bloom shrugged, “What? I kin see just you and me.”

Sweetie Belle frowned, then pushed the other witch to stand directly in front of the mirror where she had been. “Here! Stand here!” she ordered.

Apple Bloom frowned at her, the looked back at the mirror. “Whoa,” she said, her eyes popping wide open.

The others crowded around them hiding the mirror from Elly’s sight. They quickly started taking turns.

An excited babble erupted as they all started talking at the same time, then died down as they realized they each saw something a bit different. While what the witches saw always included Harry, and sometimes the others, Harry’s seemed to include his parents and none of the others’ reflections did. Include Harry’s parents, that is. Their own parents were always there.

What Ron saw was radically different. “I’m alone,” he started, then frowned. “I’m different,” he said squinting. “I look older — I’m Head Boy!” he said in shock. “I’ve got the House Cup,” he said excitedly, “and the Quidditch Cup!” His eyes widened even further, “I’m Quidditch captain, too!”

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at the rest.

“Do you think this mirror shows the future?”

Harry snorted. “How can it? My original parents here are dead,” Harry said.

Hermione looked again at the mirror’s frame, studying it carefully. “Wait, that legend isn’t in a foreign language, it’s backwards! It says, ‘I show you not your face but your hearts desire.’”

They looked at each other.

“Makes sense,” Sweetie Belle said. She looked at her Equestrian friends. “We want our cutie marks. Harry wants family,” she stepped close to him and hugged him. “Which he now has.” She glanced at the other wizard, still hugging Harry. “Ron wants . . . well Ron wants to stand out from his brothers. Hermione and Ginny both want family, friends, and success.”

Scootaloo sighed in disappointment. “So, not the future, only a dream.”

“No,” Hermione said slowly. “I think it’s a wonderful gift to know what you really and truly want in your life. Not what you think you want at this moment.” She stared at Harry. “Like knowing that your parents approve.” She stared at the four Equestrians. “And notice that certain people in the reflection are clear, while the others are not.”

For several minutes they took turns standing in front of the mirror, studying the images for clues on a possible future. Or just admiring how their lives might turn out. The Equestrians were especially interested in trying to see their cutie marks — which were impossible to get a good look at, no matter how they tried. They tended to be out of focus or obscured by others in the mirror.

Elly tried to suppress her bitterness at the discovery of the mirror’s true purpose. A lapse in her control might cause problems. She could possibly reveal herself.

Harry just basked in the glow of seeing those he would never see in real life.

“We still need to get to the owlery,” Sweetie Belle finally said. “It’s getting close to curfew. Unless you want to forget sending an owl tonight?”

“Naw,”said Ron, “Mom’ll throw a wobbly if we don’t at least tell her we’re back from Equestria and safe at Hogwarts.”

Reluctantly, they left the room.

“We’ll have to come back tomorrow,” Elly heard Ginny say from the hall.

She waited a few more minutes until their footsteps faded away, then headed for the Hufflepuff rooms. So, the mirror didn’t show the future, but what her heart truly wanted to be true. She sighed dispiritedly.

She would have to come back tomorrow, although she wanted to stay and explore this new revelation. However, staying all night or missing curfew would cause problems for her.

Hopefully, the posse would be too busy to come visit here. She knew what she wanted, maybe the mirror could help her determine some of the things she needed to do to make it happen.

۸-_-۸

Because the Equestrians’ presence was now official, Castor’s meeting with the Prime Minister and the Secretaries of the Home Office and the Foreign Office could finally take place as a regularly scheduled event during the day. Something all three appreciated. And their spouses. This Monday morning meeting included the Directors of both MI5 and MI6.

Castor was a little frazzled. The Searles had returned from Equestria late the night before. He had barely had time to drop off the film and his notes with Director Walker this morning before being told of this meeting. Which gave him barely an hour to brief the man on what he had seen and heard. And rough out a plan on what to say.

He hadn’t even had time to tell him of his, his wife’s and his daughter’s new hair and eye colours. A late night trip to the chemists had provided temporary solutions for the hair. For their eye-colours, they were going to claim to be trying out new contacts.

After they had settled and the opening formalities were finished, the Right Honourable Kenneth Baker started right in.

“As soon as we received your note about your Equestrian title, I had the experts look into it.” He shuffled the papers on the table in front of him. “The title itself is not an issue. First, it is honorary only, no real powers are invested in it. Second, the title would only be at issue if you or your wife wished it to be used in an official capacity here in England, such as on business stationery or official announcements at events and to the press. You can use it informally among your friends and colleagues, if you like, though.” He gazed steadily at Castor. “Otherwise we would have to ask Parliament to grant you an exception to the law. Or the Queen could grant it. I’d rather not ask.”

Castor shook his head. “I have no desire for it to be official. I think it was granted more for political reasons in Equestria than anything else. The Princesses seemed rather clear on that point.”

The Home Secretary nodded. “There are no properties granted,” he continued, “so that isn’t an issue, either. The ten thousand bit allowance, however, is another matter.” He glanced at the Foreign Secretary, Sir Douglas Hurd, then Sir Walker, the Director of MI5. “Do we have an exchange rate on that?”

Sir Walker sighed heavily and took a coin out of his pocket. He casually tossed it on the table-top. It hit with the ring of heavy solid metal. “One bit. One bit will buy you an apple at Sweet Apple Acres,” he said dryly, “One point one troy ounces of solid one hundred percent gold — twenty-two hundred pounds and ten shillings, as of this morning.”**

They all stared at the coin.

“Which translates to roughly two million, two hundred and five thousand pounds per annum in English pounds. Roughly.” He sighed. “Assuming the price of gold doesn’t go up.”

After a moment, the Home Secretary, Baron Baker, said, “We cannot allow that to stand,” He looked regretfully at Castor. “Even if the Queen were willing to grant an exception, parliament would have a fit. They would see it as a clear bribe.” He shook his head, “Two million pounds a year,” he said in a wondering voice.

Sir Walker took a deep breath. “However,” he looked at the rest, “that means the pound has correspondingly little purchasing power in Equestria. Making any purchases of books or construction of an Embassy extremely expensive. Even a modest million pounds for an Embassy would translate into over two hundred million pounds. I don’t think we could get such a budget passed for a single building, no matter where it was. As such, we can’t merely dismiss the per annum out of hand.”

The Prime Minister frowned heavily. “Turning it down might offend the Princesses.”

“One of my assistants,” Sir Walker said, “suggested that we instruct Castor to officially accept the per annum with the proviso that it is to Her Majesty’s government, not to him personally. He was employed by the government and merely acting in his official capacity, at first. Then he was under orders to assist the Equestrians.”

Castor spoke up, “And Princess Celestia assumed we would do something like that and has prepared a list of books we might want to purchase with the per annum.” He nodded at Sir Walker who had pulled papers from his folder and was sliding them across the table to each of the others. “Her sister said to me, in her hearing, that the reason for the per annum was to get more bits in circulation in their kingdom. So, she expects us to spend the bits there, not here.” He smiled a bit nervously, “It can’t be much of a bribe if I can’t spend it here, right?”

“And we can assign a clerk to vet all expenditures and issue monthly reports to the finance department on the disbursements,” added the Home secretary. “Which would keep everything above board.”

“No different than the reparation payments the Germans made to the United Kingdom after World War II,” said Sir Hurd. “A payment from one government to another.”

Baron Baker nodded emphatically.

Sir Hurd raked the room with a steady gaze. “We absolutely do not want to offend these Equestrians. The opportunities they make available to us are worth trillions of pounds — in both the civilian and military markets. This new-technology is going to transform the world. And we don’t want anyone else to take England’s place at the forefront. And turning down this per annum might just do that.

“If we have to bend a few rules, or arms, to do it, I say we keep the Equestrians happy and accept this with as good grace as we can manage.”

The Prime Minister nodded, his frown disappearing and a small smile reappearing. “The Conservative Party will control Parliament for a good many years, I would say,” he said quietly, “if we can pull this off.”

Which they all understood meant he would be Prime Minister for a very long time.

“So, let’s do that. Castor’s financial clerk will report directly and only to the Director of Finance. His instructions should be to make sure that there is never the appearance of bribery in his dealings with the per annum. Either incoming or outgoing,” Major said. “The Foreign Office will determine any and all purchases, with the advice of the Home Office. Any purchases Castor personally makes for his position in Equestria will be taken from the proper departmental budget in the government.” He looked around the room. “Otherwise, it is his personal business and the expenditures are his responsibility.

“I will explain things to the Queen and request that she use her Royal Prerogative. With both her support and mine, the request for an exception regarding the per annum, with the given stipulations, should easily sail through Parliament.”

He sat back, quite pleased at how what could have been a disaster had been turned into an advantage.

They spent a moment exchanging relieved smiles that this wouldn’t sink them.

Castor took a deep breath. He looked at Sir Walker and grimaced. He leaned forward and placed his arms on the table. “There are several things I wanted to say that I couldn’t put in the messages I sent,” he said quietly.

The others immediately stopped perusing their papers and looked at him.

“First, I cannot emphasize enough how powerful the two Princesses are. And I don’t mean politically, although they are that, too.” He took a steadying breath. “I saw Princess Celestia move the sun. Actually, Move. The. Sun. And her sister moved their moon and rearranged the stars in the night sky.”

He paused and took a breath. “Their names as Princess of the Sun and Princess of the Night are not metaphors, as we thought.” He shook his head at their stunned expressions. “Wherever this Equestria is, it isn’t in our universe. Or if it is, it’s in a pocket with different rules than here.”

Castor looked slowly around the meeting room table, catching everyone’s eyes in turn. He stopped and held the Prime Minister’s gaze.

“I know that is hard to believe, but I checked my watch every single time and noted down the times.” He took several papers from his pocket — they were from the secure copy machine at MI5 — distributed them. “The times listed here are when the sisters actually moved the Sun and moon. Beside each set is the time differential from morning to night and back.” He looked at each person around the table. “You will note, when you look those papers, that the times do not follow a set pattern, except for the sun to have less time during the day than the moon has the night. Sometimes the sun had eleven hours and about fifteen minutes while the moon had thirteen hours. Other times, the sun has eleven hours and about five minutes while the moon has twelve hours and fifty-five minutes. I would suspect that to be a seasonal variation except the times are not sequential. One day has eleven hours and five minutes, the next at ten hours and fifty-five minutes, then the third at eleven hours and three minutes. Which indicates that the two sisters are actually moving the sun and moon.”

He sighed. “And Princess Celestia said that since reading about how our seasons worked she has started to leave the sun at one brightness and just vary how long it stayed in the sky by several hours for entire seasons instead of only half an hour. As an experiment. Princess Luna seemed quite taken with the idea.”

He leaned back in his chair, “I realize you’re not going to believe me until we have far more observations. I suggest we send at least a dozen of our best astronomers through with proper equipment. And request that Princesses Celestia and Luna allow them to watch the two raise and lower the Sun and Moon.

“I’ll have more details, and photos, in my report.”

He gave them a few moments to mull that over.

“Second, I think I have a temporary solution to levelling the exchange rate, perhaps even tilt it in our favour.”

They looked up in interest at that.

“Completely by accident I discovered that aluminium is a rare metal there, and quite expensive. Looking up the metal futures in the Financial Times gave me some figures. A metric tonne of aluminium is approximately seven thousand seven hundred and sixteen pounds. In Equestria, that same tonne of aluminium is roughly six and a half million bits — according to a pony named Fancy Pants, a friend of Ambassador Blueblood. Six and half million bits is about one point three billion pounds.”

Castor grimaced. “He gave me twenty-seven bits to buy a kilogram of aluminium, knowing that those gold coins were worth almost six thousand pounds and the aluminium would cost less than four pounds. He expects to make about sixteen thousand nine hundred bits profit. He said that the bits he gave us was about the same percentage mark-up profit.

“He expects the price to fall dramatically as aluminium becomes readily available. But in the meantime, the government could use aluminium as a way relieve the pressure on the fact that the Equestrians are still on the gold standard. And we need to think of a way to control the flow of aluminium through the Portal, or we’ll risk the possibility of severe disruptions to the world gold market. Even if it is only temporary.

“Perhaps we can make a trade ratio of aluminium for gold on par, that way neither economy is disrupted.

“I’ll write a formal report on what happened later today when I get back to my office.”

He sighed and took a moment to gather his thoughts.

Sir Walker waved his hand, indicating to the others that they should wait for Castor to continue.

“Third. Princess Luna is also known as the Princess of Dreams. Again, that is a literal title, not figurative. She made a point of asking me if she could visit my family’s dreams as the ones she had so far observed had been rather disturbing to her. She said human dreams are very unlike pony dreams.”

They were staring at him, wide-eyed.

“Princess Luna can, literally, invade your dreams, and learn any secrets you may have.”

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

** Gold in the U.K in January 1992 was about £200.528 per troy ounce. Aluminium was about £0.24. Pure aluminium (better than 90%) in the 1850s A.D. was about £38.5 per ounce. Thus, aluminium was a very rare and valuable metal. We don’t see anything in MLP canon that might be aluminium, so we can say it is very rare.

106 — Sneaky, Sneaky . . . Maybe Not

The Headmaster peered inside the room with the mirror, briefly. Then he turned and started down the stairs. When he looked back at her, she swallowed nervously and started after him. How would she escape? Pretend to head back to her dorm when they reached the bottom of the stairs? If she tried to ignore him, that would merely attract his attention as to why she was doing so.

“I must say,” he said, “I never expected the Mirror of Erised to be so popular!” He shook his head genially. “It’s considered a very Dark artefact because so many have found themselves trapped in its allure. They became convinced it was real, you see.” He glanced at her, then the other students in the stairwell.

She nodded, her throat painfully dry. “Yes, sir,” she managed in an almost normal tone of voice.

They were both silent for a moment, the Headmaster nodding and waving to students.

“But it is very interesting to know what your heart’s desire is,” she ventured as they descended past a classroom.

“Yes,” he said. “For ones soo young as yourselves it can be quite a revelation.” He paused, then continued. “However for someone of my age, it is old news and not interesting at all.”

She nodded. “That makes sense,” she said. “With age comes wisdom.”

He chuckled. “Not always, but thank you for thinking I am wise. I shall announce at dinner tonight that the mirror will remain in that room for a while, but it will be locked at night and alarms set.”

There went her thought of sneaking in at night.

“Students may visit it under supervision, as they are now.” He continued in a conversational tone. “Then it shall be moved. It is too dangerous to leave where it can easily be accessed by children.”

They stood at the landing that led to the castle, proper. They had reached the end of the line of students. Any more and the students knew they wouldn’t see the mirror before dinner.

What he said next nearly sent her fleeing the castle in a panic.

“Well, good afternoon, Miss De Rippe,” the Headmaster said and started striding down the corridor.

He knew who she was! By sight and by name! It was with the greatest difficulty that she managed to just stand there, gobsmacked, as he walked away. Probably to his office, she guessed. She almost started hyperventilating. With a steady step that masked her inner turmoil she headed back to her dormitory. She didn’t dare break her role, not even for a second. A true infiltrator never broke her cover. She would wait to have her nervous breakdown once she was in the privacy of her own bed. With the curtains drawn and a silencing spell cast on them.

He stopped a few steps away, turned to face her, and smiled. “Maybe next time you won’t be so nervous.” He resumed walking away.

The Headmaster knew her well-enough to pick her out of a crowd and name her. He expected to talk with her again! She was not as anonymous as she had thought. She might need that hideaway in Scotland a lot sooner than she had thought.

She would go through the folder of possibilities that the goblins had sent her, thoroughly, once she recovered. The sooner she selected one, the sooner they could notify her that the property was ready. And the happier she would be.

۸-_-۸

Albus had just finished his breakfast and was starting in on his morning paperwork when the owl flew in and landed on the edge of his desk. He set aside his quill and gently removed the letter attached to the bird’s leg. He opened a drawer and retrieved an owl treat, which was eagerly accepted.

The owl showed no signs of moving on.

“Ah, you’re waiting for a reply, are you?”

The owl nodded.

He looked at the envelope. It was from Princess Sparkle. He frowned and pursed his lips. He opened the letter. It was short and simple.

Dear Chief Warlock Dumbledore,
I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but a situation has arisen at the Portal and I am in need of your advice. Could you come to the Equestrian Embassy at your earliest convenience? Show this to the receptionist and someone will conduct you through the portal to meet me.
Sincerely,
Twilight

Not an emergency, but something he could help them get sorted. Excellent! If he could get them to depend more upon his advice, things would be easier. He cast his patronus and informed Minerva he would be out of the castle until further notice.

Not long afterwards, he was being led through the portal by a Guard. Twilight met him in an office in the Portal Wall separating the portal from the rest of the Portal Exclusion Area.

“Oh thank you for coming so quickly,” she said, jumping up from the table she was at. She set aside the book she was studying at the moment. After exchanging a few pleasantries, she continued with, “Last night, as one of the Embassy employees was coming through the portal, something very puzzling happened . . . .”

۸-_-۸

Ralph had just gone through the portal, after picking up the day’s courier pack at the Embassy, when he suddenly felt something large and soft fall on his neck. He collapsed to the ground. Almost immediately he heard guards charge up to him yelling, “Don’t move! Don’t move!”

Realizing he had something furred atop him, trapping him, he complied. He tried to see something besides the acid-green fur and the wooden decking, and failed.

It took several minutes, but soon he was standing beside an unsteady unicorn mare, with her legs splayed to maintain her balance. She was staring around in amazement. He was coolly looking at his fellow guards. A soft-gold dome surrounded the two.

“Sorry Ralph,” said the unicorn in front of him.

He nodded as Sergeant Happy Pear hit him with the changeling-reveal spell. Happy used three other spells, each designed to reveal anything hidden behind an enchantment.

They both grunted at the result — no change. They were both relieved.

He watched curiously as the unicorn turned and did the same to the mysterious mare. Again, no change. Although she did gasp and give the guard a startled look.

Moving quickly, Happy Pear brought up a metal ring in wooden pliers with his magic and dropped the ring over the mare’s horn. Only, then did the Guards around them start to relax.

They might have relaxed, but the spears were still held steady and the cross-bows unlocked. A quick glance up showed that the two were still the targets of several of those new “mini-guns” and “rifles.” Although why they were called mini-guns left them all puzzled when they were so much bigger than the rifles or pistols.

The mare, meanwhile, was going cross-eyed trying to look at her horn, and the ring on it. She tried to reach up to the ring with one hoof, and promptly face-planted before the guards could warn her not to touch the ring.

“Who are you?” barked Happy Pear, who had a crossbow steady in his magic and pointed at the mare.

Ralph saw an earth-pony equipped with a new rifle-saddle manoeuver beside them to view the mare’s side. He had the trigger mechanism in his mouth. A unicorn stood beside him, horn pointed at the intruder. Ralph moved farther away from the mare. No need to court getting caught in a crossfire. Another pair had him targeted.

The mare stopped trying to stand, stared up at him, and frowned. “I’m Rita Skeeter!” she said pompously. “The Daily Prophet’s best and most famous reporter!” She scowled. “Don’t just stand there, help me up!”

“Ralph?” Happy Pear growled inquisitively.

He shrugged. “I haven’t a clue, Sir. I was returning from the Embassy on the other side of the portal with today’s courier bag,” he swung his muzzle at the saddle-bags he wore with the Equestrian Embassy seal marked on them.

“Everything was peachy keen, no problems. Then, when I stepped through the portal, something fell on me — her.” He shook his head. “I haven’t a clue where she came from. I’ve never seen her. Don’t know who she is.”

“Right,” said the Sergeant, turning back to the mare still sprawled on the deck. He studied her as she resumed slowly working her legs under her body. She occasionally glanced at him scowling as she struggled to her hooves.

He sighed.

“I’m sorry, Ralph, but it’s quarantine.”

Ralph nodded. “Just send word to Canterlot that I have the courier bags and to send somepony for them.”

Happy turned to a pony behind them. “Hostile quarantine for the mare, friendly quarantine for Ralph.”

In short order the mare found her front and rear legs manacled together with no room for movement, and a mask was fitted over her face that blinded her and prevented her from opening her muzzle more than a little bit for talking and drinking.

“Wait a minute! What are you doing? I’m a reporter for the Daily Prophet! You’ll regret this! Put me down!” Her cries were becoming more and more desperate, as well as louder, until a unicorn cast a silencing spell on her.

“Thank Celestia!” Ralph muttered as they started to the quarantine cells in the nearby hospital.

Sergeant Happy Pear just nodded as several of the closer ponies chuckled. None came close enough to cross the shield that prevented them from contaminating Equestria.

His room was rather comfortable, with a soft bed, personal toilet and shower, and a basket of fresh fruits and sandwiches. He would have preferred his own room in Canterlot, but . . . circumstances.

After a quick look around, he took off the robe and saddlebags, setting them beside himself as he sat in front of the interrogation window. The guard on the other side nodded to him congenially as he nodded back.

He pulled up a sheet of paper and fed it into the typewriter. He might as well get started on an action-summary while he waited for somepony in authority to arrive.

Miss Rita Skeeter wasn’t nearly as complacent with her room. They had set her on the bed, loosened the manacles so she could walk, removed the silencing spell and mask, and left. They had left the ring on her horn with the warning that if she touched it, they would restrain her completely, again. There were two guards on her window, staring impassively as she ranted at their inconsiderate treatment of an important and influential visitor to their world.

Her interrogator was polite, but persistent.

It took her the better part of an hour to notice the food basket. And half an hour to make her way to the table. Someone had considerately sectioned the fruit so she could more easily eat it.

She discovered there was a window in the toilet/shower room. Which led to another tirade at the perverts watching her. Until she realized she needed a little help. Then she demanded that they help her. Which the unicorn mare outside the room did without complaint or comment, except to give instructions.

۸-~-۸

“. . . it turns out she had intended to sneak through the portal to see if the rumours were true about Equestria,” Twilight concluded, “although she kept insisting this was Atlantis.” She shook her head dismissively. She dropped the papers back into the folder and put it back on the desk.

“We’re pretty sure the unicorn mare really is Rita Skeeter. She at least knows everything publicly known about the witch. And going through the portal would have counter-acted polyjuice . . . I think.” She frowned, but then shook her head again. “But it’s been far more than a mere hour and she hasn’t shape-shifted, so that can’t be in use. And illusions would have failed as soon as she changed to a unicorn. Or she would have appeared as an extremely clumsy person instead of a pony.

“So, she’s not a changeling, not poly-juiced, and not illusioned. She doesn’t have a cutie mark, so she’s not an Equestrian. She appears to be just a witch.”

Twilight sighed. “She said she didn’t want an official visit because, as she said, she was sure we would only have let her see what we wanted her to see. And that we would have used illusions to hide the truth. If we had allowed her through the portal at all. Which she was convinced we wouldn’t do.”

Albus nodded wisely. “That sounds like something Rita would say and do,” he said sagely, stroking his beard. “She is . . . an enchantingly nasty and clever witch.” He paused a moment. “The story she will write will be quite entertaining . . . and might even contain some truth.” He looked at the princess and chuckled. “I’m sure it won’t be very flattering.”

“Ah,” Twilight said. And contemplated the folder on her desk for a moment.

“The problem is, the thing I’m concerned about, is how did she slip through our checks on the other side? She couldn’t simply have been invisible and following Ralph, or our spells would have detected her. Similarly, if she were concealed in something with an undetectable expansion charm, then Ralph would have had to carry it. And the only bags he had, had been checked in the embassy before he went through the portal.”

She looked at him quizzically. “Any thoughts?”

He sat thinking, stroking his beard with a free hoof. Finally, he said, “Animagus.”
Twilight looked at him curiously.

“An animagus could be almost any creature, even an insect,” he explained. “If she were an insect, she could easily have slipped through your spells undetected. She could have hitchhiked in on Ralph’s hair. And then when she went through the Portal, it returned her to her human form, which on this side is a pony.”

Twilight sighed deeply. “Yes, of course.” She shook her head. “So. We need a spell to prevent hitchhikers down to . . . what size?” She paused. “I’ve already set a spell to prevent insects from crossing into the Portal Dome from this side, either crawling, flying, or burrowing.”

They discussed it some more until finally, she asked, “What would you like us to do with her? Is she wanted for any crimes? I don’t recall any muggle or wizarding laws that prohibit anyone from leaving the United Kingdom. And the only thing we can charge her with is trying to sneak through the Portal without declaration.” She sighed. “And that’s not a crime, yet.” She frowned. “I’m sure the Princesses will fix that oversight.” She brightened a bit. “Although we can keep her in custody for as long as we want while we research the situation.”

Albus smiled genially. “While many of Rita’s detractors feel she should be locked up in a deep dungeon, she hasn’t actually committed any crimes that we know of. On the other hand, if she is an animagus, she has broken the law in England. She’s unregistered. The penalty is a rather large fine. And if she used the animagus form to commit a crime, such as using it to spy on people in private situations, or the ministry, then time spent in Azkaban might be included. Especially if she has done it more than once.” He chuckled. “And based on how many Ministry officials are upset over stories she wrote based on things they thought were confidential, that is probably the case.”

Twilight thought about that for a moment. Then nodded firmly, stood, and said, “Let’s find out.” She trotted out the door, clearly expecting him to follow her.

Several minutes later, they were looking at an irate mare with a white-blonde mane and tail, and acid-green coat, sitting on the bed. She was glaring balefully at the window as they walked into view. Naturally, she recognized Twilight, immediately, having seen pictures of her taken by students at Hogwarts. Her expression broke into what was obviously a fake smile. “Oh, thank Merlin someone intelligent has arrived,” she said.

The reporter carefully slid off the bed and unsteadily walked to the window — the manacles making it only slightly more difficult. She didn’t spare a glance at the Headmaster’s pony form. “This is all a misunderstanding! I simply wanted to take a look at your wonderful country so I could tell my readers all about it and your colourful people,” she corrected herself, “ponies.” She smiled a bit like a predator about to eat something it had just caught.

“After all, I couldn’t very well walk into the Equestrian muggle embassy and start talking about my magical newspaper, The Daily Prophet, now could I? And there isn’t any way for a wizard or witch to contact you, either. So what other choice did I have?” She looked down, then back up under her eyelashes to see if they were gullible enough to agree with her placing the blame on the ponies for the situation.

An owl, after all, would easily have gotten through to the right person.

Twilight took a step back in surprise, but then gathered herself, frowning. “Will you tell me how you managed to make it through the Portal Dome on the other side?”

The Headmaster nodded slightly, watching the witch in pony form.

“And what proof can you offer that you really are Rita Skeeter?”

They watched the mare on the other side of the glass drop her jaw. She sat abruptly and begin to splutter, “But, but, I’m Rita Skeeter!” She looked at her side and they could imagine her frowning. She turned towards the Headmaster and the guards to either side of the window in the hall. “I’m Rita Skeeter,” she repeated, loudly, and a little desperately.

The Headmaster turned his head slightly, then nodded. “Of course you are,” he muttered.

“I’ll swear on my magic that I’m Rita Skeeter,” the witch said, frantically.

“Would you take a drop of a truth drug?” Princess Sparkle asked.

She nodded eagerly, “Yes! I am who I say I am!”

Twilight looked at them both. Albus was gazing back at her serenely, nodding. She shrugged. “I’ll be back in a moment,” she said, then disappeared in a teleport.

Twilight returned seven minutes later with a small vial in her magic, inside the room beside Rita.

Rita reared back and fell heavily to the carpeted floor.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Twilight exclaimed, and used her magic to set the mare back on her hooves. Almost as soon as she was upright, Rita had her tongue stuck out. Twilight carefully applied a drop of the liquid in the vial.

“What is your name,” she asked

“Rita Skeeter.”

“Are you an animagus?”

There was a pause, then Rita said, “Yes.”

“What form?”

Again there was a pause, then Rita said, “A water beetle.”

“Are you a reporter for The Daily Prophet?”

“Yes, and others.”

“Have you used your beetle form to spy on others to get stories?”

There was a long pause, then, “Yes.”

Twilight stood indecisively for a moment, then teleported out of the room into the hall. “Thank you for your cooperation,” she said to Rita. She hesitated, then added. “If you’d like to help me develop some spells to detect small insects such as yourself before they reach the Portal, I’d be happy to escort you anywhere you want, within reason, in Equestria. And answer your questions about it.”

Rita looked uncertain for a moment

“That’s not a question, of course,” Twilight said, “merely an offer.” She smiled slightly. “Why don’t you just lie down a bit and wait for the drug to wear off? You can think my offer over and give me your decision later. Just mention it to one of the Guards.”

A purple aura surrounded the mare in the room and gently placed her on the bed.

Twilight turned to the guards. “She is no longer in hostile quarantine. I’ll notify your sergeant and new orders will be here shortly.”

The two guards nodded.

She turned back to the mare staring at her from the bed. “We’ll have those manacles off in short order.”

She and Albus walked back to the room where he had initially found her.

Once they had settled, Twilight looked at him and raised her eyebrows in inquiry. A paper floated out of a drawer and a quill started writing on it.

Albus chuckled amiably. “That mare is definitely Rita Skeeter. When you asked her to prove it, she was practically shouting it in her mind. And when you asked her if she was an animagus, before then, she unwittingly revealed the truth. Your confirmation with the truth drug . . . was it veritaserum?”

She shook her head, smirking.

“. . . was just that, confirmation.” He frowned ever so slightly. “She wasn’t as passive as most such recipients of a truth drug.”

Twilight snickered. “It wasn’t a truth dug. It was mint tea with a mild calming potion in it. Zecora taught me how to brew it several months ago.

Albus raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“From my experiments with the potion, I know it makes you relax. And, under these circumstances, I didn’t think she wanted to lie. So, the mint taste combined with the calming potion made her think she had been drugged. The rest was just her thinking she had to tell the truth.”

Albus had to chuckle as he shook his head.

The quill finished writing and the paper folded up on her desk.

“Are you going to escort her yourself?”

She made a face of disgust. “Yes. I’ve had some experience with tabloid reporters.” She looked up at him. “I’ll introduce her to a few squibs here in the hospital, and show her how we’re helping the muggles and hiding the fact that wizards and witches are real.” She paused a moment, as if pondering something.

“Are you going to report her as an animagus to your Ministry?”

He had considered the situation while they were walking. “No. But I will send her an owl letting her know that I know her secret and that she should consider registering.” He smiled condescendingly, “But I know she won’t. She considers it too valuable.” He frowned. “But I will alter the protective charms at the school to warn me whenever an animagus crosses onto school grounds, or leaves.”

She nodded. “She does have a point, though, in that no one can contact us without going through the Equestrian Embassy. And depending entirely on owls would be problematic.” She tilted her head, looking at him. “Perhaps we should open a small office with a secretary for answering questions in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. It could floo directly to the Embassy. That way wizards and witches could easily contact us and travel conveniently.”

It was his turn to nod. “Yes, perhaps that would be better.”

“And the non-magicals there would never see a wizard or witch.”

He nodded.

Another paper floated up and the quill again started writing.

۸-_-۸

Rita spent the rest of the week exploring Ponyville and meeting some of the residents. Her first meeting with Spike sent her scurrying behind Twilight for protection. And she nearly fainted at the sight of a Griffon Guard, equipped with a spear, sword, and armour, at Twilight’s castle.

۸-_-۸

True to his word, the Headmaster left the Mirror of Erised in place for a week, and gave all the interested students a chance to see it. Which was most of them. Then he moved it elsewhere, and no one could find it.

Not before he caught Elly, though on Thursday morning. She had snuck in during the previous day and carefully unlocked a window. Then waited until late at night. She had snuck out of the dormitory after curfew using her notice-me-not spell combined with silencing spells. And an illusion spell that she was a wall. She was really good at that one.

Sneaking into the room had been easy. She had just gone outside, applied a feather-weight charm to herself, climbed up the wall with sticking charms, and snuck in through the window. A very easy operation, compared to what she had done in Ponyville.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there when the door opened and the Headmaster had walked in. She had remained still, frozen in fear. Her spells were still in place, so maybe he was just randomly checking the mirror. Or maybe he had his own wishes he wanted to evaluate, in private. He glanced around then room, then he smiled straight at her. “Those are quite good spells you have cast,” he said. “However, you can always see through other’s spells if you are powerful enough.” His eyes had twinkled. “And a wall standing in the middle of the room is quite distinctive.”

She had blushed furiously.

“Being engrossed in a single purpose makes you blind to things around you, Miss De Rippe,” he said softly to her. “And you can be caught unaware.”

He had gazed at the mirror. “It is a terrible thing to lose your family,” he said.

She could feel regret and sadness flowing from him.

“Don’t let your losses prevent you from growing and enjoying the future.” He turned to her and smiled sadly. “You have a full future ahead of you, don’t waste it, as others have, by looking backwards.”

She stared at him. “How . . . how . . . ?” she looked at the mirror.

She felt amusement from him. He smirked.

She felt her eyes bulge out at the sight. He had actually smirked at her?

“A simple alert charm on the floor in front of the mirror.” He waved his hand and a large white triangle appeared on the floor. She was sitting almost in the middle of it.

She blushed again.

“Come, I will walk you back to your Common Room.” He half-turned towards the classroom door.

She stood and docilely walked ahead of him to the door. Just as she reached it, she felt all her charms being dispelled. And she heard a click from the window.

The walk was mostly in silence. He wasn’t upset or angry with her, she felt. He was amused.

They had just reached the Hufflepuff entrance when he said, “Never fear, my dear, you aren’t the first to fall for the mirror’s charms. Not even this week. I’ve had to chase a few others away as well.”

She nodded and started into the Common Room.

“Oh, and Miss De Rippe?”

She stopped and stared at him.

“Ten points for an impressive suite of charms for a First Year.”

She blushed again, and hurried inside. She spent a sleepless night, wondering if her cover was blown or if she had simply been unlucky.

۸-_-۸

107 — Oh, No, Not Again

Bright Star sighed despondently and put her last book away. Ember Glow slowly opened her eyes. “Is something wrong, deary?” she asked, turning her head to see the pony.

Bright Star put on a happy and reassuring expression. “Nothing you need to worry about, Auntie Em.”

The old mare studied her for several moments. “You’ve been here every day for some time, now,” she slowly said.

“Nine days,” acknowledged Bright Star.

The mare nodded. “Don’t you have other things to do?” She said softy, her voice quavering.

Bright Star smiled. “Yes, and I’ve been doing them before and after visiting hours.” She couldn’t say she was trying to find somepony to replace her, and establishing alibis. And that she was already three days behind schedule — she couldn’t afford to wait much longer to return to the Portal and slip across.

The old mare raised an eyebrow and flicked her ears.

“I’m planning a trip, you see. I want to travel and explore. And this is giving me the peace and quiet I need to plan properly. It’s nothing urgent, you know. I have more than enough time to sit with you.”

Which, Bright Star knew, wouldn’t be much longer. Ember Glow was almost sleeping the entire day and night, now. The nurses estimated that she wouldn’t last more than a week, maybe two.

Ember Glow’s eyes closed. Soon, a soft snore could be heard.

Bright Star had hoped she could find a substitute by now, but hadn’t found what she considered a reasonable replacement, yet. She wanted somepony intelligent enough not to blow the plan, but not smart enough to realize the scam and go to the Guards. And just going up to somepony and asking them to pretend to be her sounded too sketchy. Not to mention that she had no way of knowing if the pony would take off immediately after she left and was unable to monitor them. She wanted someone honest, but not too honest. And someone who wouldn’t notice a little magical nudge to do what she wanted.

And who wouldn’t immediately run off to the Guard to report a possible crime.

She had taken to roaming the streets during lunch and after leaving the hospital in the evenings. Manehattan was big enough that it supported an all-day and all-night working population, so there was always someone on the streets hurrying somewhere or lazing about. This time she was near the railway station when she heard somepony sobbing.

She slowly made her way closer and found a young mare sitting against a wall, crying. As soon as she came into view, the mare rubbed her eyes and tried to straighten up. It was a unicorn mare with a saffron coat and two-tone blue-green mane and tail. She looked barely old enough to be on her own.

She was wearing well-worn saddlebags that were rather tightly stretched. Bright Star had to wonder if the mare had everything she owned in them.

“What’s wrong?” Bright Star asked softly, stopping nearby. It wouldn’t hurt to add another alibi, if she could.

The mare took a deep breath. “I just got here. I thought I had enough bits, but everything is soo expensive!” She looked down and even in the poor light here, Bright Star could see her blushing. “I thought I had saved enough, but I can’t afford a hotel for more than a night or two. And if I do get a room for more than a night, I won’t have enough to get back home. And I doubt I’ll find gainful employment in just two days.”

Or, at least, employment that she would want. Bright Star smiled encouragingly. “Maybe I can help.”

Minutes later, the older unicorn watched as the younger one, Sunset Joy, quickly finished off a burger, fries, and milk shake. The mare came from a small farming village to the north. She wanted to see the city and seek her fortune, as she thought the farming village too dull and stifling. And she didn’t really like any of the stallions, there.

A few subtle spells from Bright Star and she knew she had found her mark in Sunset Joy. By the time the restaurant was closing, the two ponies had come to an agreement.

Breezy Dancer — for that was the name Bright Star gave the young mare — was doing a good deed for an old friend. Her friend’s aunt, Ember Glow, was passing on, and the friend, Starry Glow, couldn’t be here for the last days of the beloved aunt. But she couldn’t just leave her alone — how cruel would that be? So Breezy Dancer was filling in for her, and had used a colour-change spell to make the old mare think it was family waiting with her. A little lie that hurt no pony and brought comfort to an aged mare.

But now, Breezy Dancer had her own unexpected emergency, and had to go. Which made this accidental meeting perfect! If the young mare didn’t mind spending eight hours with a sleeping mare during the day, in the hospital, Breezy Dancer would be more than happy to let her use her hotel room until the prepaid time ran out in three weeks — and she wouldn’t have to pay Breezy back at all.

In addition, Starry Glow had given her a stipend so she wouldn’t be out any of her own expenses while she was in Manehattan. A stipend Breezy Dancer was more than willing to give to the young mare.

Thus Breezy Dancer could take care of her emergency and Sunset Joy would have three weeks to search for a more permanent place of her own and a job. Both of which she could do before and after visiting hours at the hospital. And if she didn’t find anything, she would have enough bits left to return her to home safely. She could consider the whole thing just a vacation to the big city!

Which is what Bright Star told her she should say to save embarrassment if she did have to return home. That would prevent the gossips at home from saying she was a failure or had given up too easily. Gossips who had never tried to live in the big city themselves, and thus knew everything there was to living in Manehattan.

Sunset Joy would start tomorrow morning pretending to be Bright Star, after some instruction from Breezy Dancer on how to fake Bright Star’s cutie mark. The younger mare didn’t understand the need for the subterfuge, but another subtle spell convinced her not to question things — she was just so happy not to have to return home immediately that she didn’t object any further.

And she would bring plenty of reading material in the form of newspapers and books about the city, so she wouldn’t be bored! And to help her job hunt.

After watching invisibly for most of the next morning, and using subtle pushes of magic, everything was going exactly the way Bright Star wanted. The loyalty spell ensured that Sunset Joy would stay on script, and the bits ensured she had an incentive for doing so.

Plus, the letters Bright Star had left with the lawyer would go out on schedule for the next several weeks.

And the old mare had company until she passed on.

Everypony comes out ahead, she thought as she briskly set out of the hospital and for a secluded spot from which to teleport.

It took only a few hours for Bright Star to teleport back to Ponyville. She had to be careful where she teleported from and to, of course, and changed her disguise each time. Silencing spells were quickly becoming one of her favourites. She didn’t want to leave an obvious trail.

Once on the outskirts of Ponyville, she went into the Portal Building. She waited until after the two Guards had cast the changeling spell and were casting an illusion-revealing spell. Then she hit them with a confundus charm. She told them she was just a curious citizen and that she was now leaving.

Then she teleported into her old room to rest. She was nearly exhausted from the travel, despite the rest periods she had taken. Being sneaky was tiring, especially mentally.

Very early the next morning, she once more headed for the Portal. She arrived just before the portal shift change was scheduled.

When the third shift was most tired, and eagerly anticipating their replacements, she went through. A bit of sleight of hoof had allowed her to look as if she was filling out the correct paperwork for a transfer through the portal. There were too many guards watching from too many places to attempt to use magic to sneak through undetected.

The guards would, of course, remember seeing her cutie mark — no way to avoid that. If anypony asked if Bright Star had been through, they would remember her.

But with the eyewitnesses in Manehattan insisting that she had been there, and not here, on this day, would throw doubt on the accuracy of the Guards’ recollections. Plus, the personally written letters from Manehattan still arriving weeks after this would further cloud the issue. And without proper paperwork . . . well, no pony important would realize she was on the other side of the portal. Everyone involved would assume they misremembered.

When they did start to question where she was, in a month, her trail would be old and cold. It would be even longer before they investigated.

Tracking her to the hospital would be easy. Then they would waste a tremendous amount of effort tracking her connection to Ember Glow. An impossible task, given they were strangers. It would leave them running in circles.

But the trackers would never believe that.

Finding Sunset Joy would be impossible. All the hotel would know was that Bright Star checked out on a certain day three weeks after the guards said she had been at the portal. And then completely disappeared.

But the letters would continue to arrive with fake stories of things she was doing for another three weeks.

They would be soo befuddled! She had to giggle at the thought of them wasting soo much time, and never even suspecting the truth. All because Bright Star didn’t exist. And never had, outside of this very facility, and a hospital and hotel room in Manehattan.

Once through the portal, and in the changing room, she cast a very mild don’t-see-me on herself. Then she glamoured herself to look different. No one except selected guards on duty would be able to say they had seen her in her human form on this side, further discrediting the testimony of the guards on the other side.

Thus it was that an unknown witch teleported into Diagon Alley and went into the Leaky Cauldron restroom. Anne Bourchier walked out a few moments later and headed for her apartment, confident that all her plans were proceeding perfectly.

After visiting her apartment and ensuring that everything was as it should be, she went to Gringotts and sold them two small gems. She wanted them happy to see her. Or, at least, as happy as goblins ever were to see a wizard or witch.

She also needed them to find her a more permanent home. One suitable for the future major player she intended to be in the wizarding world.

And this time Miss Prissy Prying Perfect Princess Twilight Sparkle would not get to interfere. Nor would her meddling friends.

They were, after all, in another dimension entirely.

۸-_-۸

The twins did their best to convince everyone that they had been to Atlantis, with exaggerated stories of their adventures in the forest and at the Sister’s Castle. Having Myrtle supply pictures that seemed to back up their claims was merely icing on the cake.

And Harry now had a new set of rumours to contend with. Having proof that he lived in a castle — and a beautiful, shiny castle it was, too — spurred on the rumour mongers. The group’s encounter with the timber-wolves, the ball in Canterlot, and the collateral-damage results in Ponyville of the fillies in their never-ending quest for cutie marks didn’t help him. Harry was unable to combat the rumours — the truth was nearly as outrageous as the books he previously had decried.

It simply wasn’t fair! The Weasleys and Myrtle had apparently been mining the Ponyville residents for juicy titbits when he and the fillies were elsewhere! The twins wanted the stories for blackmail purposes, and Myrtle for the juicy gossip.

One evening, a Hufflepuff came up to him as dinner hour was finishing up. She shyly plopped a home-made book on the table and looked at Harry. “Would you please sign this?” she asked quietly, after clearing her throat several times.

Curious, he glanced at the title — Harry Potter and the Relaxing Summer. His eyes shot wide open in shock and he gasped. The others looked over interestedly. He opened the book to the list of contents. He paled. He flipped rapidly through the pages.

To his horror, he saw that a conscientious listener had collected some of his and the fillies’ adventures in Equestria and written it all down — in third-person narrative, with occasional foreshadowing. And then used Myrtle’s pictures of Ponyville and the Everfree Forest to help illustrate it.

He began to hyperventilate. “What’s . . . what’s this!” he exclaimed.

The fillies crowded close, looking over his shoulder, as did Hermione and Ginny. Sweetie Belle gasped and grabbed the book from his hands. She flipped through it, and stopped occasionally to read. Harry stared at the book, and then at the worried Hufflepuff, speechless. Then Sweetie giggled and read aloud, “Unfortunately, Harry didn’t notice the queen bee clinging to his mane. Nor the swarm that followed him — and only him — to the townhouse. Mayor Mare was NOT pleased.”

She burst out laughing. “Remember that Bloom?”

The Hufflepuff smiled happily at hearing that one of the actual participants agreed that the story was true.

Scootaloo giggled. She pulled out a quill and demanded, “Here, gimme that. We’ll all sign it!”

The Hufflepuff practically glowed as she walked away with her personally signed book. Signed not only by her hero, but his girlfriends — no his herd-friends, as Myrtle had told them — from Atlantis as well.

And Hermione was headed for the Ravenclaw who had made it to get seven more copies. And to arrange a royalty schedule from this entrepreneur who was now selling the books to anyone interested.

At least this time the stories printed were authorized and he was getting his fair share, she pointed out to Harry later. And then ignored his grumbling as she gave each of them the sickles the books had earned for them so far.

۸-~-۸

Now that the books were spreading through the school, Cutie marks suddenly became the topic of conversation and speculation. Previously just a mere curiosity for the students that had even heard about them, they had a new significance. Especially after Myrtle’s pictures proved that nearly every pony had one. And that the descriptions of the jobs performed by the various ponies they had met neatly tied the marks into reality.

Cutie marks really did tell you your special talent. Although sometimes the mark was ambiguous and it was up to you to figure out what it meant. Having the mark appear while you did something appropriate to the mark, however, was a big clue. Although it could be mistaken for something else.

As the outlaw Troubleshoes Clyde had found out the previous summer when he returned to the Appleoosa rodeo. With the Crusaders’ assistance, he had discovered that his “bad luck” was because he was supposed to be a comedian who specialized in physical comedy and clowning around. The “bad luck” was actually his talent at making others laugh. This was, of course, one of the stories in That Book, as Harry referred to it.

Which the fillies always talked him into signing when asked. The smug looks they had, and the overheard rumour that another book was in the offering with the further exploits of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, left him more than a bit disturbed. He noticed that sometimes the three fillies would disappear into their dorm for a while, then return, giggling, and refuse to tell him what they had been doing, except to say, “witch stuff.” It was all very suspicious.

The cutie marks were a revelation that made the other students either envious or contemptuous.

Of course, this sudden interest in cutie marks meant . . . , “I knew you were all losers,” Malfoy muttered as he walked past them to class, “. . . blank-flanks.” His boyfriends and Parkinson were with him, and laughed.

Harry sighed as the fillies turned to face the bully. Hermione and Ginny held back a distance and looked around. They didn’t want anyone to prank them while they were distracted.

Draco had discovered a new insult, it seemed, even if it wasn’t appropriate to humans.

The green-eyed boy looked at the other boy calmly. “You’re just jealous,” he said, before any of the girls could start in. “You can’t get a cutie mark, so you’ll never know your specialty in magic. You’ll always just stumble through life, wondering what it is that you are good at. You’ll always wonder if what you end up doing is really your destiny. You might never find the thing that will make you happiest.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and the Slytherins stopped.

“Meanwhile, my girlfriends, here,” he glanced at the three fillies who started to look embarrassed, “will find their cutie marks and know just what it is that they can do with their magic that will make them happiest in their lives. It might not be today, or tomorrow, or next month. Or, maybe, next year. But they will get it.”

He smiled a bit maliciously, “But you, you will always wonder at your lot in life.” He nodded sideways, to get the others to move, and started towards their next class. “And you should be very careful who you insult,” he called back. “You don’t know just who might be listening in and decide that a little disorder is needed.”

The fillies and Weasleys gave him a startled look, then smirked at the inside joke. If Malfoy attracted the attention of Discord, who knew what might happen?

The Slytherins just looked puzzled and discomfited that their insult had so easily been deflected back at them.

۸-_-۸

Oliver was working the Quidditch team harder than ever. Everyone was complaining. He was especially unhappy with the way the twins were not taking the training seriously. The training came to a dead stop when he yelled, “Snape’s refereeing this time!”

The entire team was taken aback at the revelation, and complained vociferously.

It was especially worrying to Harry and the other Firsties.

Snape’s dislike for the boy was evident to anyone who was in the First Year Potions class. And that was despite Sweetie Belle’s mishaps in class, including giving girls deep voices one week and boys high-pitched chipmunk voices the next in their two classes since term started. No one could understand why he hadn’t banned her from the dungeons!

And Harry couldn’t imagine Madam Hooch was too pleased with that decision, either, given his lack of training in Quidditch and its rules.

They were discussing how they might be able to deflect Professor Snape’s ire at Harry during the game when Neville hopped into the Common Room, falling as he did so. Hermione leapt up and cast the leg-Locker counter-curse while the rest of them laughed.

That Malfoy was responsible was not a surprise. That Neville refused to report him was only slightly less so. Harry gave him his last Chocolate Frog as consolation.

Neville handed him back the Wizard’s card it contained. He already had that one.

Harry noted, with minor interest that it was a Dumbledore card, again. Also an extra for him. He handed it to Hermione.

She looked at it with a soft smile, and flipped it over. She frowned, then slowly said, “It says Dumbledore is famous not only for the defeat of Grindlewald, but is also the discoverer of the twelve uses of dragons blood. His work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel, is also of note.”

Hermione looked up at them. “Flamel? Where do I know that name from?” She frowned heavily staring at the card. “And why do I think it might be important?” She turned and headed up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories, mumbling to herself.

Harry shrugged and the group once more turned to the problem of Professor Snape.

Hermione returned with an enormous old book in her arms, her finger marking her place in it. “Look, look,” she said and pointed to an entry as she explained how, “The Philosopher’s Stone was the goal of alchemy. It can transform any metal into pure gold, and can make the drinker immortal with the Elixir of Life!”

“Mr. Nicolas Flamel is the only creator of a Philosopher’s Stone, and recently celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday. He lives in Devon with his wife, Perenelle who is six hundred and fifty-eight.”

They looked at her blankly.

She rolled her eyes and huffed.

“See here?” she said, pointing into the book. “They live in Devon. Here. In England. Where do you think they would keep something as valuable as the Philosopher’s Stone? In their sock drawer?” She snorted. “No, it’d be Gringotts’, right?”

They stared at her.

“Look, Hagrid is keeping a clipping about someone who tried to steal from Gringotts — supposedly the safest place in the world to put valuables. You all saw that, right?” They reluctantly nodded. She shifted into lecture mode. “And if you heard someone was going to rob Gringotts, where you had your ultra-valuable stone — that you needed to stay alive! — you’d move the stone, wouldn’t you?” She continued on, ignoring their disbelieving looks at where she was going. “And Hogwarts is the only place safer than Gringotts, or so we’ve been told. And I saw Hagrid at Gringotts when we went to Diagon Alley,” she said, glancing at Harry and the fillies. “Which just so happens to be the same day that someone tried to rob Gringotts, according to the clipping. Because the bank wasn’t in an uproar when Harry was there, the break-in had to happen later. And then the thief didn’t succeed — the article said the vault was empty — which means it had already been moved.” She gave them a triumphant look. “I think that’s why Hagrid was there. He was being very secretive, wasn’t he?” She again looked at Harry and the three Equestrians.

Ron sighed. “You’re barmy.”

Several of the others nodded.

Hermione huffed. “Well, if you had the Philosopher’s Stone and wanted to keep it safe, safer even than Gringotts, where would you keep it?”

They looked at her blankly.

“Hogwarts, of course.” Hermione continued. “We saw a trap door under Fluffy in that room at the beginning of the term, didn’t we? And Cerberuses are known as fierce guard dogs, aren’t they? And Hagrid takes care of Fluffy, doesn’t he? Clearly, they are all connected.”

More blank looks. Or actually, looks that said they didn’t understand why she was going on about this.

“Look, this has been bothering me since we first saw that Cerberus — what could be soo valuable that the Headmaster needed more than just a few magical protections?” She looked at them a bit desperately.

Ron half-whispered to Dean, “I think she’s lost the plot.”

Hermione looked offended at his not so quiet declaration,

The fillies perked up.

“A mystery?” said Scootaloo.

A creepy grin began to spread across their faces.

Harry sighed.

“So, you think,” Sweetie Belle said slowly, barely hidden delight in her voice, “That the Headmaster is hiding the Flamels’ Philosopher’s Stone in a chamber underneath the Cerberus, Fluffy?”

Hermione nodded happily. “It all fits.”

Sweetie Belle, nodded slowly. “We need to meet with Hagrid, to see what we can learn.”

Hermione said, “I’ll send a note asking if we can come over on Friday for tea.”

The fillies nodded.

Scootaloo rubbed her hands together, “This is going to be so much fun!”

“All that from a name on a wizard’s card?” Neville shook his head dazedly. “What has any of that to do with Snape . . . ,”

“Professor Snape,” corrected Hermione.

“. . . Professor Snape,” continued the chubby boy, “being the referee at our next Quidditch game? And why are you bringing it up now? Besides, if it’s so important I’m sure the professors are well equipped to handle it.”

Hermione blushed as the other Firsties all nodded.

“Well, I’m sure they are,” she said, “but just think, the Philosopher’s Stone could be right here!” She looked at them all. “Doesn’t that make you excited?” She smiled, “Besides, we’ve got six weeks to the game. Plenty of time.”

But Harry saw the three fillies exchange looks. He sighed. This was not over, he knew.

۸-~-۸

108 — It’s Not My Fault!

Albus’ first thought on seeing the article in The Daily Prophet was, “Oh dear.” He knew the rest of his day, if not the week, was going to be engaged in damage control.

It was actually a rather fair article for the Equestrians, considering the author. She called them polite, nice, and simple. Her comments on watching the pegasi move clouds for weather were pretty entertaining, as were her remarks to their disbelieving reactions that weather on the wizard-side of the portal was all left to chance.

Her only real complaint was that they kept referring to their homeland as Equestria and not Atlantis. Her comment that they obviously kept the night-sky behind a façade so no one could find them struck a chord with him. If they were going to hide their true location from the muggles, it only made sense to do the same for wizardkind. They wouldn’t want to leave clues for any dark wizards to use to find them.

It would take a great deal of magic to do it, but he had a feeling that Discord was more than up to the task, if he wanted. Considering the charms used on the ceiling of the Great Hall, it wouldn’t be that much of a change to get them to display whatever one wanted instead of merely the sky. And a mild notice-me-not would prevent anyone from examining what was happening any too closely.

And now that he thought about it, if Atlantis was actually underground, their “sky” could be the charmed rock ceiling! That would explain how the Princesses could fool the muggles so easily! They were manipulating images of the sun, moon, and stars on the roof of their cavern. It would still take a great deal of magical power to control and move the facsimiles of the sun and moon, but it was possible, in theory. One would have to have a viewing station on the surface to capture the sun’s rays and heat, but that would be a trivial thing to hide. If one had enough magic, it could even be high in the sky, above interference from clouds that might block the sun or moon.

Their raising and lowering of the relevant bodies was simply using magic to reveal and hide the reflected celestial body in question. Once the object was hidden from view, they could shuttle it to the other side of the cavern for the next day or night.

And being underground would certainly explain why they had to control the weather. In a cave, the weather would be static and unchanging, otherwise.

He looked out the window and wondered how hard it would be to fake the sun in the sky. He took out his wand and considered what he knew of remote viewing. He summoned a hand-sized crystal from his shelf. He studied it for several moments. It was a trinket whose function was no longer needed. He closed his eyes and concentrated. With a swish, he swung his wand and the crystal shot out of the room into the sky, using the Owl Mail port.

He summoned another crystal, only a tad smaller than the first. He held his wand over it and murmured a spell. The room was suddenly flooded with light, blinding him at first, as if he were looking directly at the sun. Which, he was.

Well. That proved the concept.

But the light would fail as soon as the sun crested the horizon. Not a useful replacement for a candle at night. But an excellent way to illuminate the rooms and dungeons during the day, even if it was cloudy outside.

But he could feel the pull on his magic as the crystal globe went ever higher. Holding it steady hundreds of yards straight up would be strenuous after several hours. One or two of those would be quite taxing for the average wizard.

But runes might be able to fix that.

He would need to mention this to Filius, Bathsheda, and Septima. Between the three of them, they should be able to come with a workable solution. If they could, then Hogwarts could use the galleons freed for supplies other than candles.

He went back to The Daily Prophet.

The next article in the newspaper was a problem, however. She dealt a lot of criticism towards the Ministry for allowing the Atlanteans to come out in such a huge manner — an Embassy! — to the muggles. And they considered the muggles just as important as wizardkind? The very idea! Muggles as good as wizards? Nonsense! The Atlanteans should be devoting their trade efforts to the wizards! Wizardkind had far more to offer than mere, insignificant muggles.

As he had feared, she was fanning the flames of alarm, as she went on to claim that the Atlanteans were clearly violating the Statute of Secrecy, and violating it on a huge scale. Not that she blamed them, oh, no. It wasn’t their fault that the Ministry was ignoring them. That fault she laid at the feet of the Ministry. And she didn’t mind naming names, of which Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge was frequently featured.

What was worse, at least to Rita, was that the Equestrians were implying that many of wizardkind’s advances were their very own. Not that they had a choice. They couldn’t say they had received those things from the wizards. If they did, that would have also violated the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy, and revealed wizardkind. Which they were trying to obey, now that they knew of it.

And she used what she had seen in a hospital near the portal to support her outrage. A hospital treating muggles! She had seen skele-gro and other potions in use, as well as recognized some of the spells.

Not that the muggles had realized it was magic in action. Which was almost lost in the article.

He sighed and stroked his beard. He had had a long talk with Cornelius about the Atlanteans, and how their contact with the muggles was a blessing in disguise.

All for naught, it seemed. The gormless wizard would quickly give in to the storm of protest this article would foster.

Right on cue, his floo lit up and he heard the Minister’s voice, “Are you there, Headmaster? You must come to my office immediately!”

He sighed. “Yes, I hear you, Cornelius. Give me a moment to advise Minerva.”

“Excellent!”

He sent off his patronus to his Deputy, then floo’d to the Ministry.

While a very few selected floo’s in the Ministry allowed outgoing calls and transport, incoming messages and visitors had to go through the main entrance. A mild inconvenience that delayed the Headmaster’s arrival.

The secretary greeted Albus as he came into her office on the first level, “Oh, Headmaster! Go right in, they’re waiting for you.”

He nodded an acknowledgement and opened the inside office’s door. Of course they were waiting for him, the Minister had just floo’d him. As soon as the wizard entered the room, Cornelius turned to him and started complaining.

“Can you believe those foreigners!” he shouted, brandishing a copy of The Daily Prophet. “They’re ignoring us! They aren’t telling us anything! And they’re breaking the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy!”

Beside his desk was Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and the detestable Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. Dolores, in pink, naturally, bore a look of professional indignation while the wizard merely looked on approvingly. Whatever was going on, he had obviously been an architect of it.

To one side, and calmly watching, were Aurors John Dawlish and Rufus Scrimgeour.

“Now Cornelius,” Albus started calmingly, as the door closed automatically behind him, “we discussed this last week. The Equestrians are doing magic in plain view, yes, but they have disguised it as ‘advanced technology.’ Which, surprisingly, the muggles have accepted without question. There isn’t a single muggle who suspects that what the Equestrians are doing is magic and that there must be wizards and witches hiding in England who can do it, too. And, therefore, they are not in violation of the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy,”

“But they are conducting muggles through the portal! Muggles! And curing them with magic! We can’t have that! The muggles are clever, they’ll figure it out. Then where will we be?” He slammed the newspaper onto his desk, knocking some papers on the floor.

Albus had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He stroked his beard, instead.

Lucius had a small sympathetic smile while Umbridge turned a deeper shade of red. She shared his outrage, and nodded in agreement with her superior.

“And they’re working with the muggle government. They aren’t working with us at all. And we’re in the dark! We won’t know anything is going wrong until it is too late!” He took a breath. “They don’t understand how cunning the muggles can be. If we aren’t helping them handle the muggles, they’ll make mistakes and reveal us! The Atlanteans don’t understand! We must be there to guide them.”

The Minister was becoming involved in his wobbly. If it continued, next he would start stomping his feet for emphasis.

“We need the muggle in charge, the, the . . . Prim?” he glanced at Malfoy who gave a subtle nod, “. . . Minister to turn things over to us. The Atlantean’s must go through us first before they do any more damage,” he concluded indignantly, huffing.

He turned to Malfoy. “Uh, right?” he asked timidly.

Albus had to admire how Malfoy resisted face-palming. It was clear who had orchestrated this meeting and anxiety in the Minister.

“I’m sure,” the Headmaster said soothingly, “that things are nowhere near as dire as you think.” He gestured at the paper. “Even Rita admits the muggles suspect nothing.”

“AHEM!” interrupted the Senior Undersecretary. “Which is why we need to act now, before anything does go wrong!” she said stiffly, her face lost some of its redness. She glared at him, daring him to contradict her.

Lucius looked on, his languid posture demonstrated his approval.

“It won’t be that difficult,” she unctuously continued, glancing at the minister. “A few compulsions charms, a few obliviates, and we can still make things right. We can regain control.”

She gestured to the paper. “It’s clear from Miss Skeeter’s article that the Atlanteans are nothing more than especially clever unicorns and pegasi. They might even be as smart as house-elves. We’ll just put them under the control of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.” She smiled at her cleverness. “And then we’ll be able to control the gems and gold that go through the portal,” she concluded, smiling contentedly, convinced her arguments had to have persuaded him.

For a moment, Albus had a horrible vision of how Princess Luna might react on meeting Dolores and hearing her plans. And her opinions. And what Discord might do?

He sighed, and conjured up an armchair. “We need to carefully consider the issues at hand.” He made ready to sit down. “There are things of which you do not know.”

“There’s really nothing to discuss,” said Dolores primly. “We need to be . . . involved. We are the Ministry of Magic, after all.”

Cornelius turned to the floo. “I’ve already told the muggle minister we were meeting him today about the Atlanteans.” He turned to Rufus and gestured hurriedly. “Which is why I asked you to join us.”

Clearly, he thought the Headmaster supported him.

Auror Rufus turned and grabbed some floo powder, threw it into the floo. “Prime Minister’s Office,” he barked. He stepped into the green flames and disappeared. Auror Dawlish followed him. He had his wand out, but they were visiting a muggle. His relaxed attitude showed that he didn’t expect any problems.

Resigned, Albus sighed and vanished his chair.

Lucius stood. “Well, this is ministry business and I have other things I must attend to.” He nodded to the Minister. “Good day, Cornelius, Dolores, Albus,” he said as he headed for the door.

Cornelius nodded back and gave a distracted, “good bye,” before he exited through the floo.

The office door closed behind Malfoy.

Albus shook his head as he quietly followed Dolores. Perhaps he could ease things, keep everyone calm, and prevent a total disaster.

The Prime Minister’s office wasn’t a large room, but it was large enough for the six newcomers.

He was at first startled to see Ambassador Blueblood was present, seated, with another man standing in the corner behind him. But then he realized it made sense. Of course the Prime Minister would notify the Equestrians. Especially if he had had any advance warning. Telly phones made it a simple matter. And with teleportation, it wouldn’t have taken long for the Equestrian to arrive.

Blueblood had probably had as much warning as had Albus. With a lot less walking.

Cornelius and Dolores were staring at the two strangers in surprise.

Albus quickly moved to take control. “Ambassador Blueblood,” he said moving forward to shake hands.

The Ambassador looked at him quizzically, but stood. “Chief Warlock Dumbledore!” he said warmly. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon after the Ball.” They shook hands. “Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing at the others.

The Prime Minister remained seated.

“No, no,” said Albus, stepping back. “Just a bit of a misunderstanding by Cornelius.” He took a quick look around.

The two Aurors had moved into the corners of the room, making themselves inconspicuous and yet able to watch everything. Just as the man he didn’t know was doing. The three were watching each other closely.

His glasses let him see that there was someone, no, a pony, standing quite still under an invisibility cloak on top of the credenza at the back of the room. And there was a charm on the rug that covered the floor. He blinked. The other wizards would be caught flat-footed if things went pear-shaped.

“Ah,” the Ambassador said, and turned to the man seated at the desk, “Prime Minister, I don’t know if you’ve met Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore, the head of the Wizaengamot, the wizarding equivalent of parliament.” He turned back to the wizard. “Albus, I’d like to introduce you to the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, John Major.” The man behind the desk stood and held out his hand.

Albus stepped forward again and they shook hands, exchanging pleasantries.

An annoyed, “AHEM!” came from behind them.

The Headmaster smiled and said, “Ambassador Blueblood, Prime Minister Major, I’d like to introduce Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge and his Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge,” he said, introducing them. Cornelius and Dolores merely frowned.

“Although,” he said to Major, “I’m sure you already know Minister Fudge.”

The Prime Minister and Ambassador nodded to each of the wizard and witch as they were mentioned.

Major and Blueblood sat back down. The Prime Minister gestured at the chairs in the room. “Please, be seated.” There were already two chairs in front of the Prime Minister’s desk, but another slid into place beside them. The two Ministry of Magic officials looked surprized at the movement. They slowly sat down, wondering who had cast the magic without them seeing a wand.

Cornelius looked discomfited, unsure of how he had lost control of the situation.

“Now, then,” continued Prime Minister Major, “What seems to be the problem?”

Minister Fudge looked uncomfortable and glanced at Albus, then his Undersecretary. “It’s about the Atlanteans.” He hesitated at Blueblood’s bored stare.

After a moment’s silence, Dolores plunged in, “You shouldn’t be dealing with the Atlanteans,” she sternly reprimanded the muggle. “They are magical creatures and as such are our area of interest.” She glanced at the Equestrian. “They made a mistake in approaching you, the poor dears. They approached you in ignorance. They didn’t know any better, how could they?” she said disparagingly, “Can’t really blame them for that, they are ponies and not people, after all.” She glanced dismissively at the Ambassador, whose eyebrows had steadily climbed as she spoke.

“It was a clear violation of the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy,” she lectured. “We should have been involved from the beginning. We are here to correct that.” She smirked. “If you would provide us with a list of the officials the Atlanteans have approached, we’ll take care of everything for you. Then you can go back to your little problems. You won’t have to worry about magic or the Atlanteans at all.” She waved a hand contemptuously. She smiled at him as would a parent at an errant child they wanted to cooperate, glancing at Cornelius for his approval to her statements.

He nodded, once more reassured of his mission.

Albus sighed and shook his head.

Blueblood and Major exchanged glances.

“Excuse me,” the Ambassador said frostily, and sat up straight. “But when we first came through the portal, you were nowhere in evidence. We did not see a wizard or witch anywhere in sight. Nor did any wizard or witch approach us. That was not our fault, but yours. You should have come to investigate the magic immediately, when you first detected it.” He gave the wizards and witch a disapproving look.

“What we did see, however, were the people who lived around the portal — and none of them knew of people who could do magic. Magic users, as far as we could tell, did not exist. So, we started doing business with the people we had met. We started buying land and buildings with the intent to establish an embassy. And you were still nowhere in evidence. Perhaps someone was not doing their job at your Ministry.”

He glared at them down his nose. “To us,” he said snobbishly, “this was a unique opportunity. A whole civilization to explore. One completely unlike our own. We rapidly discovered there were many things that were common here that we had never thought of.” He glanced at Major. “And there were many things we could do that they could not. It only seemed natural to trade. We developed an entire strategy on what we wanted to do, to trade for useful science, art, and technology. Hundreds of our best people were involved in that planning.”

Dolores was turning red. The Ambassador’s tone was clearly not to her liking.

Blueblood narrowed his eyes, slightly, still glaring at them.

“And then we received a visitor.” He sniffed his disdainfully. “A woman arrived at the door of the home we had purchased, and claimed to be a witch. She said she was the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. She had letters for three children living in our home.” Which meant that they must have been there for quite some time.

Cornelius looked at the Headmaster. He nodded genially. Dolores continued to glare at Blueblood balefully. She had crossed her arms and stared at him through narrowed eyes.

“She told us of this International Statute of Secrecy.” He said scornfully. “And how we were expected to comply with it.” He gave them a condescending smile.

“We had already bought thousands of books about this new world, and had quickly read them. Nowhere, in any of them, had there been mention of a society of wizards and witches. Although we had looked for such. We couldn’t believe there was a magic world where people could not manipulate the magic. We did read, however, what the people here thought of magic in general, and of what happened to people who were accused of commanding it.” He frowned darkly.

“We found those accounts deeply unsettling. So, we took great care to hide what magic we did. But we continued to pursue our trade goals. Magic did not need to be mentioned or used in that effort, so it wasn’t. Which, it so happened, was in accordance with your . . . Statute . . . we later discovered.”

He leaned forward slightly. “But the booklet Deputy Headmistress McGonagall left us, put us in a peculiar position.” He looked up at the invisible person at the back of the room. “The booklet said we could not tell non-magicals — muggles, I believe you call them — about magic, because every wizarding nation in the world had signed onto this . . . Statute of Secrecy.”

His expression hardened. “But Equestria,” he emphasized that word heavily, “has never signed that agreement. Nor is there anything like it in Equestria. The very idea of penalizing people for using magic in the open is incomprehensible to us, there. You might as well pass a law punishing people for breathing. And it would accomplish just as much.

“But we could understand why it existed, in view of the books we had read.

“And while the Statute says that every country is responsible for the magic inside its borders, the portal is now on embassy grounds. And, as such, it is no longer considered a legal part of England. Which removes it from your jurisdiction. By your own laws.”

He continued icily. “As to us including you in our negotiations with the non-magicals, your International Code of Wizarding Secrecy has nothing to say on that if the negotiations do not involve discussions of magic. In addition, in a contract negotiation between a magical and a non-magical where magic is not discussed, involving the Ministry is not required by English Ministry of Magic laws.” He smirked. “Otherwise a Ministry official would have to be present every time a wizard, witch, squib, or Hogwarts student bought groceries, clothes, or anything else outside of Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. And you would have to fine or jail them if the official was absent. On the other hand, your laws specifically exempt non-magicals who have already been introduced to magic.” He smiled genially.

“Such as the non-magical parents of magical students.”

He leaned back into his chair with a bored expression. “We have not displayed or used magic in front of any . . . muggle . . . who did not already know about magic.” He nodded at John Major, “Such as the Prime Minister, who mentioned wizards when he met with Princess Celestia. And then he told selected members of his Ministry about magic.”

He smiled widely. “And that does not break your Statute, either. As a non-magical, he is free to tell whomever he wants about magic, without penalty. Once he tells someone about it, your laws allow us tofreely to discuss magic with them. The International Code of Wizarding Secrecy says so, too. The Statutes only concern with muggles is if, on meeting a wizard or witch, they attempt to reveal your hidden society. As long as they do not endanger the Statute, they are left alone.

“Penalties are imposed only if a magical person discusses magic with a non-magical person who did not already know about it. Except under special circumstances, of course.”

Cornelius was listening, shocked that the Ministry’s prepared arguments were so thoroughly being destroyed. Dolores was red with rage, but listening closely, waiting for her chance at a rebuttal.

“You might not appreciate us trading with the non-magicals, but we have done nothing to breach the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy, nor break any of your laws.”

“And, for your information, since you seem to not know it, in the last six months, we have had two separate interactions with your Ministry of Magic. The first was to have a floo connection established in August. The second was with the Department of Magical Accidents, also in August, when they finally noticed all the magical activity at the house we owned. And they merely warned us to make sure no one unauthorized ever saw us do magic there, and said they would revise their records to say our home, and the land we had purchased, was a magical estate.”

He shrugged. “The Ministry of Magic has clearly known about us, and our magic, for at least six months. And ignored us completely beyond those two incidents. We assumed you were not interested in us at all. So, we concentrated our efforts on the non-magicals for trade. They, at least, were eager to know about our world.”

He glared at them, “To now suggest that we have somehow impugned your honour by ignoring you, or your laws, is beyond the pale.”

Dolores stared at him for several moments. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous! You are magical creatures, you are in England, and therefore you are under our jurisdiction. And he is a muggle. You will do as you are told by the Ministry, or suffer the consequences. Aurors, stun them,” she ordered.

Albus, alarmed at her tone, had already shot his wand into his hand. He turned to the Aurors, who were bringing up their wands. He intended to stun them before something happened that they would all regret.

The charm in the rug flashed. Suddenly, he couldn’t move. He felt both disapparition and anti-portkey wards flare up. No one could move, not even the wizard in the portrait on the wall beside the Prime Minister’s desk, who was listening and watching with alarm evident in his expression.

The only ones who could move were the Prime Minister, who leaned forward, and the Ambassador, who leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. Albus concentrated hard, and felt the charm give way. He slowly turned back to the Prime Minister. The man in the corner was pointing a pistol and a wand at him. He was sure the pony behind him was a unicorn and prepared for a magical fight.

The Prime Minister shook his head. “That was monumentally stupid,” he said, drily. Blueblood just sighed and looked out the window.

The pony on the credenza had apparently climbed down. Now a man, he was collecting wands. He did not approach the Headmaster for his wand. Nor did he move between Albus and the man with the wand and gun. In fact, even as he removed the others’ wands, he kept his eyes on the old wizard.

A commendable and prudent action, Albus thought, even if it was inconvenient for the Headmaster.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

Thanks to ScreamingDoom for suggesting an “outrage” meeting between Fudge, the PM, and Blueblood.

109 — Balancing

“I presume this wasn’t your idea?” asked Prime Minister Major, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

Albus shook his head and slowly placed his wand back in his sleeve. He kept his hands relaxed and in view. “Cornelius called for me only a few minutes before we came here. I didn’t know until then what he had planned.”

He knew the man who had collected the wands was standing a yard behind him. No doubt the Equestrian had a wand trained on him, too, now.

Blueblood just listened.

“I assume you don’t want a war between us? Especially because the Equestrians can bring across five thousand Guards to back us against your Aurors? And you know we know all of your public wizarding locations? And scores of private ones, as well?” The Prime Minister smiled grimly. “And we have agents inside many of them.”

How much of that was fact and how much was bluff? Could he take the chance it was a bluff?

He glanced at both Dolores and Cornelius, and could see the panic in their eyes.

Albus shook his head again. He hadn’t considered until now that the Equestrians, with a six million population, probably had an Auror force that was at least sixty times bigger than anything the Ministry could put together. In fact, if ten percent of their population joined their Auror service in a conflict, as he had been told the English muggle population had done on their side of the war against Grindelwald, then the Equestrians would have at least ten times more Aurors than there were wizards and witches in England!

And if there was a war, and Equestrians were attacked, he had no doubts that the Princesses would get involved. Each of whom could probably handle all the English Aurors by herself. Or at least enough to render their defence of the country useless.

And that didn’t include the havoc that hidden muggle-sympathizer agents in their world could cause.

“What do you suggest?”

He sighed. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t see any other way to proceed. “Obliviate the last few minutes and a confundus with the suggestion that because the Equestrians have broken no laws, if we were to take any hostile actions against them and threaten the Statue of Secrecy, the ICW would become involved directly. And bring their Aurors into England. A disaster that would see them both out of office almost immediately.”

If they hadn’t been petrified, he was sure Cornelius’ and Dolores’ eyes would have bulged out in horror.

The Prime Minister looked at Blueblood, who nodded slightly. “I will withhold action until I don’t see results,” Major said. “The only reason these two,” he nodded at Cornelius and Dolores, “won’t be locked up for treason is that their disappearances would lead to a messy war.” He shifted and leaned back. “We would win, but the cost for us all would make it Pyrrhic victory. We need them where they are.” His expression hardened. “You will, however, keep them both on a short leash.”

With the total destruction of wizarding society at stake, Albus knew he had no other choice. Albus slowly pulled out his wand and held it vertically. “I swear that I . . . .”

“Stop!” ordered Blueblood. “That isn’t necessary.” He glanced at the Prime Minister. “If things start to go wrong, we want him to have the flexibility to do what needs to be done without the constraints of an oath that would limit his ability to react. What might be an oath-breaking could be necessary to lay the ground-work that would resolve our problems.”

Five minutes later, their wands were restored and the wizards and witch had a slightly bemused look.

“Well,” Albus said, loudly, “I think we are finished here, Cornelius. Ambassador Blueblood’s explanations were quite thorough, were they not? The Ministry really has no reason to object to their relationship with the muggles, despite what some may say.” A suggestion he was repeating again to the four Ministry officials.

Minister Fudge blinked and nodded hesitantly. “Yes, yes, of course.” He looked over to the fireplace. “We’re finished here, let’s go.” He stood and headed for the floo. Rufus moved to accompany him and threw floo powder in the grating. Dolores followed the Minister.

Albus indicated that Auror Dawlish should precede him. The Auror vanished into the floo. The Headmaster turned to the four remaining behind. “I used a rather powerful obliviate and confundus. They won’t remember what Dolores started to do.”

Blueblood and Major nodded.

He wanted to leave a listening charm, but didn’t dare because the Equestrians might detect it, either being cast or in use.

He stepped into the green flames and back into the Ministry. Cornelius and Dolores were waiting for him, still a little dazed. The spinning trip through the floo hadn’t helped that. Although it helped scatter their memories and settle the suggestions he had made under the confundus.

“I believe,” Albus said gently, after wanding away the soot, “that we should adjourn to your office to discuss a few things regarding the Equestrians.”

Cornelius looked at him and slowly nodded. “Yes, yes, we should adjourn to my office to discuss the Equestrians.”

Dolores looked puzzled for a moment. “Yes, Minister, that’s an excellent idea,” she said fussily.

Albus wasn’t sure how well the confundus suggestion that the Equestrians were people with pony animagi would affect her opinion that they were creatures, but it should ameliorate it temporarily, in any case. With a bit of luck, long enough for him to change a few laws in the Wizengamot. Or at least prevent the passage of more restrictive laws.

And if he could get Cornelius to remove Dolores from office, or even just demote and transfer her . . . .

The easy manner in which the Equestrians and muggles had trapped the wizards left him disquieted. That, and the anti-portkey and anti-apparition charms still on the building as they had left. Those charms had major implications if a fight with the muggles ever erupted. If the muggles, with the help of the Equestrians, started enchanting their important government buildings with war wards, the same way the Ministry of Magic did, it would tremendously complicate any actions the Aurors might want to take.

They would have to have expert curse-breakers assist every Auror mission. And there simply were not enough curse-breakers to do that. Meanwhile, the muggles, with squibs and a few half-bloods on their side, could cause untold damages to wizards and wizarding locations such as Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley.

And most wizards and witches would simply try to hide from the muggles once escape proved impossible. Just as they had done to the Death Eaters ten years before. With just as little success. It would be devastating.

Only, this time, the Aurors wouldn’t be fighting a force nearly their equal in numbers, but a force that vastly outnumbered them.

Something he would be sure to emphasize to Cornelius and Dolores. All he had to do was point out how being out-numbered in duel by two- or three-to-one usually meant losing the duel — even if the ones you were duelling were not as proficient with magic as yourself. And if you were out-numbered five or six to one? Only the most powerful and fastest of wizards or witches had any hope of escaping, never mind winning.

The muggle government might even be able to do it without the ICW noticing until it was too late for them to intervene. If the muggles firmly controlled enough of wizarding Britain, the ICW would have no choice but to accept it — there would be far too many who knew about the situation for an oblviate to work. Especially if the muggles had the support of dissatisfied squibs and half-bloods. As long as the wizarding world was not revealed to the general population, the ICW would maintain a hands-off policy. Just as they had not interfered when the Soviets and Chinese began their pogroms to eliminate their wizard and witch populations.

Today’s little incident had proved to the muggles that they couldn’t trust the Ministry of Magic to act reasonably. They would be preparing for a war, even as he tried to tell Cornelius and the other conservatives that it was a new world out there. And the odds against the wizards winning would worsen every day that the muggles had to prepare.

And, being outnumbered a thousand-to-one meant the muggles could throw resources into the conflict that the wizards couldn’t hope to match. If you were one-in-a-million at being extremely clever at solving puzzles, the muggles had fifty and the wizards had none.

Wizards would have to adjust to the new reality. Or else.

He would have to share his memories of the battle between Princess Luna and the basilisk with a few of the more moderate members, and persuade them that taking on an entire world of magic users, six million of them, would be a disaster. And definitely do the same with Cornelius and Dolores. Seeing a single being subdue a beast that would have taken a dozen Aurors would illustrate suitably how dangerous the Equestrians could be.

A select few would see his memories of Discord. Seeing that creature in action would be a very convincing argument in cooperating with the Equestrians.

The English wizarding world was going to be quite different in ten years.

One way . . . or another.

۸-~-۸

Things at Hogwarts had settled into a repetitious rut of study, classes, and study. And, for the Quidditch teams, one of study, classes, practice, and practice. Or, at least, that was the Gryffindor Quidditch team schedule. The other teams seemed to spend a bit less time in practice. In some cases a lot less.

The animagi found all the help they needed with schoolwork from their upper-years, especially the fifth and seventh years. Petting a studying pony while also studying seemed to be quite a stress-reliever. The only grumbling was when a pony went Book-walking. Which the upper-year students learned to head off by answering the question. The trade-off in lost studying versus less stress made it worthwhile.

It made for an unusual layout in the common room or library. The animagi were in a wide circle with upper-year students clustered around them like moons around planets — one hand on a pony, the other writing in a magically suspended scroll. A few had learned to use their magic to write, copying the actions of Sweetie Belle and Harry.

Every once in a while, a student would pull out a book and disappear in it for a time before reappearing and continuing his or her revising. Or a student who had been gone for some time reappeared and began his or her copious note-taking.

Book-walking had made assignments easier, so the professors had made the assignments harder and required more detail in retaliation.

On the other hand, the upper-year students were complimenting the lower-years on being so far ahead of the syllabus than they had been in the same year.

Every House except Slytherin was involved. Although there were a few Slytherin students who snuck in for some quality time with the ponies. Never the more conservative Slytherins though, so the Gryffindor Firsties never had to tolerate Malfoy and his toadies.

It wasn’t unusual to see one or two of the ponies had fallen asleep, usually Ron, Ginny, or Scootaloo.

Elly certainly enjoyed being on the periphery. While the stress was a bit of sour taste, the bursts of relief at seeing the ponies when someone new came in made up for that. Or they gave up on studying for a while and mindlessly petted a pony, broadcasting their contentment.

۸-_-۸

Anne Bourchier (formerly Starlight Glimmer, Bright Star, and then Breezy Dancer) was in the Leaky Cauldron. She was seated near the back, with several copies of The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler her the table. Her meal had been . . . as odd as she had expected. She had seen the reports about their transformed bodies being omnivores, but it was still more than passing strange to be confronted with it when she first saw the menu just a few days ago.

Today she had taken the plunge into a roast beef sandwich, eschewing the salads and fish she had favoured so far. The waitress had cleared it and she was sipping a tea, hoping it would soothe her stomach. Not that her stomach was the issue. It was more the thought of eating like a carnivore — and liking it — that was unsettling.

She had been, and still was, carefully researching the wizarding society, especially recent events. Today she had wanted see if there were any jobs that might help her in her quest. Hence the newspapers spread across the table and her notepad beside, quill at the ready.

At the moment, though, she was involved in the surreptitious study of a man seated by himself not far from her. She had immediately noticed the wizard when he had first floo’d in. He was tall with light skin . . . she still found their naked faces and tiny eyes somewhat disquieting . . . and had a short, lustrous black mane. His clothes were much more formal than anyone else in the place, which made him stand out from the rest of the patrons.

He gave off an air of “casual elegance” not unlike the Canterlot nobles she had met. But without their ever present slight sneer towards those who were not as elegantly dressed or coiffed as themselves. Instead he had a slight, aloof smile as he surveyed the room. He also didn’t walk with his nose in the air.

The other patrons had also noted the wizard’s arrival, and were more than a bit wary of him, she saw, based on their reactions. Conversation had stopped and whispering started as they stared at the man. Several had abruptly finished their meals or drinks and quickly made their exits to Diagon Alley. She noted that none had dared use the floo while the wizard remained close to it. She hadn’t needed to be a Changeling to feel the tension his arrival had brought.

“Hey, Tom. A butterbeer, if you please,” he had called out casually, and ignored how the customers around him had reacted. He had spotted an empty table near her and had headed there. The wizards and witches at the nearby tables had all quickly finished their meals and left their tables almost as soon as he sat down. Soon, a ring of vacant tables had surrounded him. Except hers.

He had pretended not to notice the exodus.

She recognized him from the newspapers, naturally.

The only living son of what had been a powerful and influential family. He was both a new and old player in the wizarding world of politics — only last month he had been released from an unjust imprisonment. The political pages of The Daily Prophet and Quibbler articles had given very conflicting views of the man. Some regarded him as a terrible Dark wizard who would go out of his way to hurt others. Others said he was a Dark wizard pretending to be Light. They claimed that his obvious dislike and disdain for Dark families was all a sham, as he prepared the way for the Dark families by fooling the Light one into complacency. Still others called him a Light wizard from a family with a Dark reputation, which coloured everyone’s views and expectations. He, in their opinion, was not as evil as so many declared. No matter which side spoke, however, they all agreed that he was a wizard that you crossed only at your own grave peril.

There was even a book out, now, that detailed his misspent youth at Hogwarts. One reviewer and his followers said the book showed an evil Dark Wizard in training. Another reviewer said it showed an exuberant young man embracing the Light. The book was in her trunk. She thought him a bully of privilege whose own arrogance had landed him in dungeon deep.

She thought him a dreadfully spoiled foal. She felt he and his friends, the Marauders, had taken advantage of his, and their, notoriety to escape punishment. When caught out, they never even denied their involvement in the deeds. In fact, they seemed quite proud of themselves. The only thing in their favour, that she could see from the book, was that they weren’t braggarts. That was faint praise, if praise at all.

Many of his misadventures at Hogwarts, verified by multiple witnesses, would have had him reprimanded and expelled from a pony school. One or two might even have resulted in a stay in the Royal Dungeons! Which, while not nearly as severe as the horrifying wizard prison, was still a punishment of a level they had clearly deserved.

Although, considering the reputation the prison had, and their reasons for using it, she didn’t see all that much difference in attitude between the so-called Light and Dark families. One set was merely a bigger set of bullies than the other.

Azkaban had taken a toll on him though. He had a much more mature air about him. He now knew there were consequences to things that he did, or didn’t do. Severe consequences. Whatever he did now, she thought, if it wasn’t legal or had unpleasant consequences he would make sure he was not careless enough to be caught in it. And if he did, he wouldn’t be captured.

Still, he was back now, and no one knew exactly how much influence his control of the family’s many businesses and wealth would change the political climate. His recent votes in the wizarding equivalent of a legislature, assisting what some called the Light Block in repealing and changing certain laws in the Wizengamot, had already started having massive impacts. It would take time for the regular citizens to see those impacts, but they were there.

From what she could tell, those changes were needed improvements.

She had been trying to decide on the best way to approach him. From the news articles and his votes, he appeared to want some of the same things she did, that he shared the same ideals as she had. Or, at least, didn’t outright oppose them.

He would make the perfect mug for her plans, especially with his apparent dislike of the status-quo and the power he wielded. He would be as interested in tearing down the so-called pure-bloods as she was. Only he would never suspect her of manipulating him, she wasn’t a political player! If she could work her way into his confidence, and gain his assistance, her plans would be greatly advanced.

And, now, here he was!

He was clearly waiting for someone from the way he kept his grey eyes, now that she could see them, on the floo and the entry to Diagon Alley.

She pointedly did not look at the wizard, instead appearing to focus on her reading. And tried to make it seem as if she had only just started, not that she was about finished. She carefully manoeuvred a small ball of string from her pocket with her magic and rolled it across the floor. The tip went up the table’s leg to the table-top’s edge and stopped. A minor sticking charm prevented anyone from dislodging the string from the floor or table. A listening charm took care of the rest. He and his guest would never suspect she could hear their private conversation as clearly as if she were sitting at their table, between them.

He glanced at her, but she wasn’t doing anything of interest except reading the situation-vacant ads. He did a bit of a double-take, however, when he saw her quill take a note while she was obviously using her hands to fold the paper. She gave him a quick vacant smile, then returned to her “reading.”

They didn’t have to wait long. An old man, one of the stream of people exiting the floo for Leaky Cauldron dinning room or the one of the other restaurants in the Alley, looked around, searching the room for someone. Sirius raised his lit wand, attracting the man’s attention.

She had a reason to look up, now, instead of using the corners of her eyes, so she did.

Sirius really must have the political pull attributed to him to so casually meet and greet the great Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock. Odd that he had so many names when most others did not.

They gave the waitress, who appeared almost as soon as the older wizard sat, a lunch order. After what seemed like an interminable wait while they exchanged a few pleasantries about their day — she had finished one newspaper and started another — they got down to lunch and business.

Headmaster Dumbledore drew his wand and made a motion. She could feel the silencing spell settle around the table. It was rather easy in this magical desert to detect directed magic when it was this close to her.

Sirius leaned forward, “So, Albus, when can I meet Harry?” he said intently.

He knew the foal staying with Sparkle? That was interesting.

It was a rather advanced privacy spell, she couldn’t clearly see his mouth move or expression. No one would lip-read their conversation! Fortunately, the spell didn’t cut out listening charms already emplaced. They never thought such a thing would happen to a random table in a public location.

The older wizard was relaxed. “I thought that was what you wanted to talk about,” he said calmly, and smiled genially.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Of course it is, I told you that when I owled you.”

The Headmaster sighed. “It is much more complicated than you think, Sirius.” He pursed his lips. “Remember, on the day of your trial, that woman that was with me when you were first brought to hospital?”

Sirius nodded. “Yes, you said she was taking care of Harry. She’s a foreigner, though, right?” He raised his eyebrows, “Princess Sparkle?” he said a bit disbelievingly.

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes. She’s from Equestria. That’s where Harry has been staying for over a year, now.”

The old wizard began to explain the situation with Harry — the Dursleys, his failed spells, and how the boy had ended up in Equestria. It would not have taken the old wizard as long as it did without the outbursts and interruptions from Sirius.

Sirius was not happy. He barely could contain his temper at some of the revelations. That the Dursleys were in prison only marginally tempered his rage.

Based on what she heard, she didn’t blame him. And she admired his control.

“Now, Sirius, you have to keep calm,” the Headmaster repeatedly consoled him, and stroked his beard. “Losing your temper now will prove to your critics that you aren’t stable, and it will hurt your relationship with Harry in the long run.”

With difficulty, and many minutes glaring at the table, Sirius calmed down enough for Dumbledore to give him a brief overview of the things Harry had been doing at Hogwarts.

Black was delighted to hear that the boy was an animagus. He was astonished to hear that colt had actually said he wouldn’t attend without his Equestrian girlfriends. Who were capable students themselves, Albus made sure to point out. No rules were even bent to allow their attendance.

Dismissing the non-attendance threat as inconsequential — “He’s Harry Potter, of course he would attend Hogwarts,” Sirius said — the head of the Black family shook his head in admiration. “Three girlfriends already. James would be so proud!”

As the stories continued, he was positively glowing with pride at the end. “Five girlfriends?” he said gleefully, “And they’re all animagi? And he’s on the Quidditch team, already?” He leaned back in his chair and laughed.

Starlight could barely believe how mercurial the wizard was. From rage a few minutes ago to gaily laughing out loud, now. None of the other wizards were so fluid in their emotions. Was this normal for him? Or had it been something that came about as a result of his incarceration?

He was much less amused when the Headmaster explained how he was working towards getting the boy to stay with the Weasley family this summer.

The wizard leaned forward. “Harry is my godson, he should be staying with me,” he said with a hard, dangerous edge to his voice.

“And that is why it is complicated, my boy.”

Starlight felt he was pushing the “old grandfather” shtick a bit far, here. Given the circumstances she knew about the colt, plus what she had just learned, he would do far better to be more familiar and less patronizing.

Sirius, based on his leaning back and posture, seemed to feel the same.

Dumbledore sighed. “We must act carefully, here. The boy has what he feels is a loving home with people he trusts. He doesn’t know you, and he won’t trust you, at first. Not to mention your home at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place is not exactly a safe environment for a child, as we both know.”

Sirius had to concede that Dumbledore was correct. They argued for a short while before coming to a decision. The first step was to start to clean up the house. The second was to talk the Princess into letting him visit Equestria during the Spring half-break. That way he could be with Harry and Harry would be in what he thought of as a safe environment. And it would give him, Harry, and the princess a bit of time to get to know each other.

And third, he could broach the possibility of the boy staying with the Weasleys during the summer, with visits to the Black homestead once it was cleaned up.

After a few more minutes of discussing some minor points, the two got to their feet. The Chief Warlock cancelled the privacy charm and they said their goodbyes. He turned and ambled over to the floo, greeting a few people congenially as he did so.

While the two were distracted, Starlight reeled back her string and pocketed it.

Black watched him go with a thoughtful expression, then sat back down. He stared at the table-top for a short while, then he looked around.

۸-~-۸

110 — Overwhelmed

“I still don’t see why the Equestrians didn’t contact us first,” Cornelius whined.

Albus sighed. They were having the second of their meetings in the Minister of Magic’s office since the Minister’s ill-fated attempt to coerce the Equestrians into ignoring the muggles.

He stroked his beard and leaned back. “And how would they have done that, Cornelius? This is the Ministry of Magic, not the Foreign Ministry,” he said reasonably. “The Ministry of Magic is only concerned with magical events and preventing muggles from realizing wizards and witches exist. There are no embassies,” he subtlety emphasized, “in the wizarding world as there are in the muggle world. We simply directly contact the proper department in the foreign county’s Ministry of Magic. The closest thing we have to a Foreign Department is the Department of International Magical Cooperation. And their main focus is trading standards, international law, the ICW, and sports!”

He sighed again, starting to get exasperated, but hiding it behind a genial smile and twinkling eyes. “You know all this Cornelius.

“The Equestrians weren’t looking to sell us anything, primarily because they had no idea what we might be interested in purchasing, so the trading office is right out, isn’t it? International laws are set and enforced by the ICW, and that department is only concerned with our staying inside the law.

“They didn’t know the ICW existed until we contacted the Equestrians about their children attending Hogwarts. They knew nothing about it, what it meant, or what it espoused, and they are not interested in joining it. There certainly aren’t any laws against that! And as long as they do not violate the International Statute of Secrecy, the ICW has no authority to interfere. And Minerva explained the International Statute of Secrecy — as well as left them a muggle-born brochure so they wouldn’t accidentally break the any important laws.

“And they don’t even know what sports we have, so that department is out, as well.

“Not to mention, as Ambassador Blueblood so ably explained, they were visited by the ministry — twice! Once by the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and again by the Department of Magical Transportation. So, clearly, someone in the Ministry knew of their existence and that they had a substantial estate. And I, myself, arranged for the Equestrians to have a floo-network connection installed. I assumed the Department Head would have told you that.” He glanced at one of the in-baskets on the Minister’s desk.

“But I am the Minister for Magic! I should have been told!” complained Cornelius.

“Well, then, perhaps you should take that up with the Department Heads of the Floo-network, and the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes,” lightly suggested Albus.

He paused, still stroking his beard thoughtfully, then continued.

“And what if the Equestrians did try to contact you? Someone who tried to make an appointment with you, someone who wasn’t a pure-blood or famous half-blood, someone you didn’t know, would your Senior Undersecretary have even given them the time of day?”

He looked thoughtful, for a moment. “For all you know, in fact, they may have tried to do that and been rebuffed.”

Cornelius pouted and spun his chair like a petulant child.

“Well, what about all the magic things they’re doing with the muggles?”

Albus shook his head. It was going to be another wasted afternoon, he could tell.

“The muggles blame it all on the ‘alien’ nature of the Equestrians. They believe, hard as it is to comprehend, that aliens use technology to do things that look like magic but aren’t. Much the same way muggle stage magicians appear to be doing magic, but aren’t. The muggles just assume that because the Equestrians created the portal — one which their muggle scientists can’t explain — the Equestrians must have other things the muggles can’t explain. And my friends in the ICW say that is perfectly all right.

“Blaming magic on technology was impossible fifty years ago, but now? Many muggles who would have immediately shouted ‘MAGIC’ are now just nodding their heads and saying, ‘Ah, technology, of course!’ and continuing on as if they hadn’t seen a thing unexpected. They have many marvels that copy magic and yet aren’t — such as their aeroplanes the size of busses that carry hundreds through the air and pictures that move in their movie houses.”

As Albus had expected, not much was accomplished that afternoon.

And he never mentioned that he could have warned the Minister, but hadn’t because he had suspected that Cornelius would have caused an international incident just that much sooner.

۸-_-۸

Elly was in the library that day just outside the packed room for the fifth and sixth years. A recording of soothing music was playing, and masking the noises a roomful of people would normally be making. A Ravenclaw taking a break and staring aimlessly around the room suddenly looked at the seven animagi. The Ravenclaw frowned. “Hey,” he said to Scootaloo, lightly stroking her feathered wing that was draped across his lap.

“Hmm?” came the distracted response, before she looked up from her paper at the wizard.

“When’s your birthday?”

She blinked, then said, “June 12th.”

“And you’re what, eleven, twelve?”

She frowned and shook her head. “I’ll be ten.” *

The Ravenclaw’s jaw dropped, as did the students closest to them.

“You’re nine?”

Her frown deepened. “Almost ten,” she said testily.

He stared at her, then looked at the other two fillies. “And them?”

She snorted, but nodded towards Apple Bloom. “Her birthday is May 3rd, she’s ten right now. And Sweetie Belle will be ten on April 11th.”

She turned back to look at the Ravenclaw. “Why,” she asked curiously.

They had attracted a bit of attention, now.

Elly smirked. She had wondered when the humans would notice. She knew every human Firstie, except Ginny, was eleven on September first. That had led her to investigate. Why were these older humans acting so young? Her research had shown that human nymphs were incapable of walking at birth, unlike ponies who could walk and run almost immediately, and nymphs who crawled everywhere. And it took the human babies most, if not all, of a year to catch up. At a year old, ponies and nymphs were running around everywhere. And humans were just beginning to walk. And being unable to explore for so long left the humans behind in mental development.

And talking for humans was delayed until they were almost two years old! Ponies were fully vocal by six months, at the latest. Lings were fully vocal only a month after pupating. Again, that placed the humans behind, comparatively.

Which was why the ponies, even though physically younger, were on par with the human Firsties, and looked eleven.

She smirked again. She wondered what they would say if they knew she was only eight. Having access to the hive mind certainly had speeded up her learning by a considerable margin. Most of her learning was merely a matter of putting theory to practice and becoming proficient. Of course, being an infiltrator meant she was smarter than most lings her age — and required a lot more things to practice. Not more knowledgeable, because every ling could access the hive mind when needed, but she was better and quicker at applying what she knew.

Unfortunately, the extent of the hive mind, at this point, was just her. And she was woefully lacking in knowledge. Both from home and here. It would take her decades to learn everything she needed to learn in this new world.

The Ravenclaw blinked several times, then said, “Just wondering.” He smiled. “Hoping for a birthday party before exams, I guess.”

She blinked at him. She turned and looked around. “Hey, Parvati!”

The Indian girl looked up. “Yeah?”

“Didn’t you say your birthday was coming up?”

The witch nodded. “Yeah, in two days, February tenth, Monday.”

Scootaloo looked back up at the Ravenclaw. She smirked. “There ya go! And her birthday is the same as Padma’s! So, two for one!” She started to get excited. “We can make tonight a blowout! A two-house party! Where are the twins?”

Elly almost started jumping for joy. She could already feel the excitement flooding the room. She would need a few more jars for this. She hurried back to her room. She had some planning to do — primarily a safe place for her store of food. Her trunk was running out of room. Maybe she should ask a house-elf if there was a place to hide things. And then avoid it because the house-elves knew where it was.

After thoroughly investigating it, of course.

۸-_-۸

Starlight Glimmer was striving to come up with a ploy to attract the wizard’s attention when he looked over at her and frowned. She pretended to be too involved in finishing her lunch and reading the newspapers a second time. It was actually her second lunch, but she had needed an excuse to stay at her table. She didn’t think she could stretch out going through the ads much further without something else as a distraction.

“Excuse me,” he said politely in a cultured tone that would have done a Canterlot noble proud, “Are you, perchance, seeking employment?” And very much unlike how he had sounded talking the Chief Warlock. Another sign of how familiar the two were with each other.

She looked up at him, as if surprised he had spoken to her.

“Why, yes,” she said, and gestured to the newspapers and her notes. “I only recently arrived from Canada.”

He glanced at her papers, and the quill she held in her magic in mid-notetaking. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem quite accomplished at wandless magic.”

She shrugged dismissively, “It’s convenient for notetaking. I prefer a wand, otherwise.” It was amazing how much easier magic was here with a wand. Almost as easy as using her horn back in Equestria.

He smiled winningly, “Perhaps you could help me. My house here in London has been vacant for quite a few years and needs cleaning. And while I’m good with a wand, it would go much faster if I had help?” He gave her an appraising look and smiled encouragingly. It was an approach only a brazen and self-important stallion at home would consider proper. He probably thought it made him look roguish and mischievous.

She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow enquiringly, anyway. She had wanted to meet this stallion, and here was the opportunity laid out in front of her. All she had to do was manage it.

“I would be happy to pay you the going rate for such services, but I do have to warn you that there are several nasty little creatures that have taken up residence while the house was vacant. And there are some Dark items that you would need to be careful about.” It was his turn to look at her inquiringly. “Are you, possibly, skilled with curse-breaking, too?”

She smiled. After dealing with some of the creatures she had met in the forest on her way to Ponyville, she felt her skills were more than enough to handle little annoyances. And with her magic, what spells she couldn’t decipher and unravel, she could easily just smash. “I do have a little talent with that,” she modestly offered.

A bit later that afternoon, as she held a magical shield while whacking doxies out of the air with a bat, she decided that maybe these little pests were a bit of a bigger problem than she had anticipated. It would take more than a few days to “clean” the house. And some of those Dark items he had mentioned belonged in Tartarus! Or destroyed.

In the meantime, she and Sirius seemed to getting along pretty well. His humour took a bit to get used to, but it wasn’t as awful as she had expected from a self-centred noble who merely thought they were being clever with innuendo. He was impressed by her spell control. And he especially liked her solution to the foul-mouthed portrait — layering a sheet of glass across it and silencing the glass so that nothing that was said could be heard. That she then finished by drawing an extravagant moustache on the glass over his mother’s face had him fall down laughing.

۸-_-۸

Elly stared at the room in astonishment. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to see such a room. It had literally not existed a moment ago, that she could detect, at least. The wall in the corridor on the seventh floor had been saturated in magic, but then again, so was most of the castle. Watching the door form, and then seeing the large room behind it, had been enlightening. The door hadn’t just been hidden, it hadn’t been there to hide! What a wonderful way to hide a hive!

The magic was far beyond her at the moment, but she was determined to learn it.

In the meantime, she took a quick look around the mostly empty room. Quirky, one of the Castle’s house-elves, had told her the Come-and-Go room had been packed with things just a short time before, but that the Headmaster had ordered them to clean it and separate the trash from the usable items.

She definitely would not be using this room for her precious food!

On the other hand, when she explained her trunk was getting full, Quirky showed her the nearby room full of abandoned items that had already been checked for harmful spells, refurbished, and cleared for selling. Which is how she acquired a trunk with three storage spaces in it, two were double the depth of a student-trunk and the third was a clothes closet! Depending on which lock she used, she had a different space. More than enough room for her needs. And at a price that was barely more than the cost of a normal trunk.

No one had said that the elves couldn’t sell items from the Come-and-Go room directly, instead of Professor Flitwick dealing with a storekeeper.

With a bit of illusion work, she managed to get it back to her room unseen, and hid her old trunk inside the clothes’ closet. Maybe she could sell it at a second-hoof store.

۸-_-۸

Valentine’s Day did not catch Harry by surprise. He knew about the day from the way the Dursleys had acted — ever more sickening sweetness between the two adults. And he had learned he had to remain unseen on that day, or else. At primary school, it had always meant everyone traded cards and small gifts of chocolate with the sentiment “will you be my . . . .” Everyone except him, of course. His school-desk was conspicuously empty of cards all day long. And chocolates. And he never had cards to give of his own. Dudley saw to both situations, at his parents’ urgings.

Hearts and Hooves Day in Ponyville, in the middle of the week the previous year, had been a strange experience that narrowly avoided ending in a complete disaster. At school, the three fillies had given him a card they shared. But they were his best friends and he knew that they had just been being nice. Still, it had given him a warm feeling that maybe he did matter to someone, even if it was only superficial and didn’t really mean anything. The couples at his primary school had always done that, breaking up a week or two later, that is.

He had apologized at not giving them cards. He had never had thought they might want him to give them cards, he had explained, nobody else ever had. They had reassured him they didn’t mind. And Twi had warned him, later, to not forget it again or there would be dire consequences — based on her observations at her school in Canterlot.

And then their day had descended into chaos. The fillies, with a reluctant Harry, had decided to try for a cutie mark in match-making. The mess that had resulted with their teacher and Big Mac hadn’t ended as well as they had hoped. But lessons had been learned. And their grounding hadn’t been all that severe, really.

So, he thought everything was going the way it should, at Hogwarts, when he woke up on Friday. He had made his own card for the three fillies, asking them to be his special somepony, as was customary for cards on that day. And he had it in his robe’s pocket, intending to give it to them when he saw them.

The girls, as usual, woke him in the morning. His first warning that things were about to go off the rails was when the girls all gave him a kiss on the cheek instead of simply bumping the bed and telling him to get up. It was rather a pleasant way to wake up, even if he was embarrassed at his room-mates’ guffaws and teasing.

They told him they would be downstairs, waiting, while he showered and dressed.

There were many couples already exchanging cards, hugging, or telling others who they planned to give a card to in another house, when he started down. However, there were five witches clearly waiting for him. Not unusual, except today was the day for couples. Or, in his case, a quad. It only now occurred to him that Hermione and Ginny had kissed him earlier.

Sweetie Belle standing with two witches to either side presented their Valentine’s Day card to him. Then he opened it. Inside were not only the fillies signatures, but also Hermione’s and Ginny’s.

He stared at the card, then said, “Oh, I left your cards upstairs! I’ll be right back!” Then he turned and charged up the stairs, nearly bowling over Dean as he did so. He ignored the boy’s disgruntled, “Hey!”

Once in the room, he quickly pulled out two more sheets of parchment. He folded them into quarters, as Twilight had shown him last year, to make cards. Then he drew hearts with an arrow through them on both, to match the ones he had for the fillies. As quickly as he could he added little embellishments in the form of other little hearts, some filled in. Then he quickly wrote, “Will you be my special friend?” inside. And signed them. An ink-drying spell made sure there were no smudges.

Not having envelopes for the other three at least left off that part of the problem.

He pulled them out of his pocket so that it was all one bundle, took a deep breath, and went back downstairs.

The witches were all waiting with amused expressions as he descended the staircase. Hoping they wouldn’t notice his sweaty hands, he carefully handed a card to each girl. The five giggled, but seemed happy that he wasn’t a complete oaf.

Then he didn’t know what to do. Couples held hands. He didn’t have five hands. What should he do? No matter what he did, he would offend three of the witches! One by one, the girls again kissed him on the cheeks, and thanked him for the cards. Again, they left him hot with embarrassment. The older girls in the common room were amused at his, and the other boys’, reactions.

While he stood there, paralyzed into inaction, the girls solved the problem for him. Ginny seized his right hand and Hermione took his left. They guided him into the hall, the other three followed and giggled.

Several students from other Houses were waiting, cards in hand. Single Gryffindors were hurrying away, clearly hoping to meet the girl or boy they fancied as he or she left their common room. It did make him feel conspicuous that he was the only boy who apparently had five girlfriends for the day. And the girls seemed to be just fine with that arrangement.

Well, at least it was only for a day. Although, sneaking looks at Hermione and Ginny, they seemed a lot happier than they had been in the last month. This was for just a few days, right? Then things would go back to normal, right?

He thought the worst was over as they headed for breakfast.

He was wrong. Breakfast started okay, with Hermione and Ginny on either side of him and the fillies across from them. And then the owl parliament arrived.

His eyes widened in shock as a sizeable number of owls obviously aimed for him. Soon, he couldn’t see the table, or the fillies, for all the owls vying for his attention. It took several minutes to collect everything and shoo off the owls.

And the owls completely depleted the rashers of bacon at their end of the table! The six of them stared at the pile of cards and presents left. Looking around, Harry was relieved to see that several other students had been the recipient of multiple owls. But, they were all upper-year students.

Before they could start opening the cards, however, Percy came to their end of the table. He looked at the piles and sighed. “Let me check, first,” he said.

Harry looked at him in surprise. Check the letters and packages? Why?

Percy began waving his wand over the piles, muttering. He smiled in relief when he was finished. Looking at Harry, he explained. “I wanted to make sure that there weren’t any spells on them, don’t you know?” At Harry’s and the other’s blank looks, he continued. “Sometimes someone tries to slip a compulsion charm through the Valentine cards. Nothing drastic, just an attempt to get your attention. They never last long, do they? Just an hour or three, sometimes a day, right? The same for the chocolates, they’ll sneak in a love potion to try to ‘push’ things along, in the hope that if you hang around with them a bit, you’ll develop real feelings.”

Harry and the fillies exchanged horrified looks and leaned back from the packages. Twilight had given them quite the lecture about the dangers involved in love potions. And they had personal experience with just how badly those could go wrong.

Sweetie Belle, with a scared look, asked, “Can you teach us those spells you just used?”

“Yeah, like, maybe, right now?” Apple Bloom said intensely.

Percy looked at the fillies and saw they were very serious. He straightened and tried to project an air of authority. “Why, of course.” He held out his wand, “First, and simplest, is a general test charm, to see if there are any spells on the letter or package . . . .”

After fifteen minutes, they had a very basic understanding of what was involved, and several spells to use. Combined with the spells they used on food when the twins were close, they now had a decent group of spells to detect harmful actions.

And the names of a couple of books they intended to check out of the library at their earliest opportunity.

They paid . . . shared . . . with him some of the chocolates they had acquired as a way to say thank you. And then shared the remainder with the other Firsties.

Harry wondered if there was some way to make a ring or necklace that could detect when something had been tampered with when it came close enough. A ring or bracelet would be most useful, he decided, as it could easily be worn and no one would know what it did. Then whoever was wearing it couldn’t be slipped something dangerous without detection. Which would make him and his girlfriends much safer. Maybe Twi would know of something like that. Or could make something for them.

Yes, that was what he would do. Ask Twilight when they returned home for Spring half-term Break tomorrow.

The rest of the day was rather pedestrian, by comparison. Although the five girls seemed especially touchy-feely. Hermione and Ginny always held his hands in the corridors and during the meals, and the three fillies bumped shoulders and nuzzled his cheek and neck much more than usual. He was red with embarrassment almost the entire day.

Professor Snape was especially abrasive in class. Sweetie Belle’s potion blowing great clouds of pink smoke into the air didn’t help. Fortunately, the students had learned to protect themselves, so no one discovered exactly what would happen if they breathed the stuff. Unfortunately, Professor Snape’s attempt to vanish the potion reacted with it before he finished. Everyone in the class spent the next two days with little floating hearts over their heads. An innocuous result, but it monumentally pissed off Professor Snape to have little hearts drifting over his head all day.

Harry did notice, however, that one particular Hufflepuff seemed to like to follow them. She didn’t have that silly love-struck expression some witches did when they were with their boyfriend, but she did appear a bit distracted. She did look cute, though, with the way her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth, occasionally.

۸-_-۸

Elly had difficulty concentrating that Friday. The amount of love floating around was almost intoxicating. It was better by far than living in Ponyville had been, even on Hearts and Hooves Day. Well, maybe not if she had been able to move around in Ponyville instead of being stuck as a rock in a park.

She had to make two trips to her room to discharge her reserves. Thank Mother she had that extra storage space in her new trunk. Eleven jars, with a stasis charm, was more than enough for her to survive the summer without any worries. Even if she didn’t collect anything all summer, she wouldn’t be short when she returned to school.

She just hoped the Equestrians didn’t notice how she kept following them. It wasn’t her fault that they were such fountains of food, today.

۸-~-۸

Author's Note

A.N. * I know some people are going to throw major wobblies based on the CMC pony ages. However, both Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake, in the Season Two episode Baby Cakes, are shown walking and flying, as well as understanding what Pinky Pie wants. They also speak one word each. Baby Cakes is supposedly one month after their birth (Mrs. Cake says it’s their “month-i-versary”). All these would be record-breaking events if they happened to a set of human babies. This places them about two years ahead of human babies in physical development. I would expect their mental development to be just as advanced simply because they are interacting with others so much earlier. So, yes, they are about two years ahead of the humans, physically and mentally. And Elly? I can’t imagine how quickly her schooling advanced with access to the entire race’s knowledgebase while growing up to be an infiltrator. Doesn’t mean she has finished growing up, however.

And for anyone who says I am arbitrarily making ponies superior to humans because they are physically advanced for their ages? Well, rats have the same social development at four weeks as a ten year old human child, and hit puberty at six-weeks old (typically twelve years old for humans, and real horses hit puberty at between 18 and 24 months). Does that mean rats and horses are superior to humans? https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3737272/#S10title

111 — Reconnecting

April 11th Extra Post — 1 Year Anniversary of First Post!

The twins had elected to remain behind instead of joining the others during Spring hols. They wanted to build up a supply of Ginger Gender Gels. Rich’s candy orders were becoming regular, and getting larger. The orders from Malfoy weren’t nearly as large, but they were becoming steady. They had even convinced a few sixth-years to help them in brewing the quantity they needed, for a reasonable inducement, naturally.

It was clear that they could earn far more from Equestria for their candies than anything they would earn back here. The twins had decided to turn over their wizarding profits to the family and keep the Equestrian profits for themselves. The license agreement with Malfoy would assure the family of a steady income for the foreseeable future, and the gems they had brought back completely solved Weasleys’ current financial problems! They used the excuse that they should ‘contribute’ to the family expenses because they did live there, after all, to get their mother to accept the arrangement.

It meant the Weasley family was going to get an upgrade in their clothes this Spring, and some much-needed items for the home itself.

And their business slightly decreased the antagonism normally felt between the two wizarding families.

Harry and the Equestrians had been disappointed when Hermione had ended their fun and explained to the twins why some couples would want to experiment with the candies. It was a revelation to the two that the candies might have a purpose beyond pranking. Which had then segued into the topics of transgenders and transsexuals. Topics they had shared with their amazed parents. Who were maybe not as amazed as they pretended to be.

Now the twins were working on developing a version of the candies that lasted days or weeks. And they felt that a week of concentrated work at the castle would be beneficial.

On the other hand, Hermione was accompanying them to Equestria. And was full of questions on what she could expect.

Ron, rather than be alone at home with his parents or stuck at the castle with his brothers, decided to join them. As did Percy. So, the entire crew of Firstie animagi were going, as well as Myrtle.

Harry and the fillies were pleasantly pleased when they were met at the train station by his mum and their sisters, and Rainbow Dash. Harry crashed into his mum and gave her a fierce hug. The Equestrians weren’t as enthusiastic with their sisters, but it was only less by a tiny bit. Myrtle watched with a somewhat sad expression until Twilight surprized her and pulled her into the hug with Harry.

Hermione was occupied with her parents.

The three Weasleys watched and smiled.

They were all amazed when Harry’s mum introduced them to the notorious Sirius Black! They all noticed that while Sirius acknowledged the others, he spent most of his time watching Harry and smiling. Which, when Harry considered it, really shouldn’t have been surprising. But it did feel creepy, at first.

The surprises kept coming when everyone floo’d from the train station to the Equestrian Embassy. It was only when they started towards the Portal that the kids realized all the adults were going with them.

His mum laughed. “Yes, Hermione, your parents are going with us through the portal. And, yes, Harry,” she smiled down at him, “Sirius will be joining us, too. He is your godfather, after all.” She smirked. “And we have a surprise for you all once we get back. I think you’re going to like this.” She glanced at the fillies. “Especially you three.”

That started a deluge of excited questioning that the Equestrians refused to answer with anything more than a laugh and a, “Just wait, you’ll see.”

۸-_-۸

Watching Hermione’s parents stumble around as pegasi after going through the Portal was humorous, and a bit startling. No one, except perhaps his mum, had thought them to be squibs. But Harry couldn’t help but remember how awkward he had felt when he first went through. So, he found himself leaning against Mr. Granger to help him keep his feet.

They didn’t believe him, at first, that walking on their hind legs would actually be easier, until they tried it.

Mr. Black was completely comfortable as a unicorn. His mum had to remind the wizard to refrain from casting any magic while they were in the portal exclusion area.

Harry was surprised at the ease with which the wizard had adapted to being on four legs. He moved with the simplicity and grace of someone who had been a quadruped for years. The colt couldn’t help but wonder if Sirius had an animagus form, and what it was.

It made for an unusual looking group moved on to Sweet Apple Acres, especially with the Grangers walking upright. Rainbow and Scootaloo spent most of the time flying beside and talking to the Grangers, and, among other things, promising to help them learn to fly.

As soon they left the Portal Building, his mum stopped. The four adult Equestrians faced them. “Now for the surprise,” the alicorn said with a twinkle in her eye. “This year, I’m in charge of the Grand Galloping Gala, and we’re taking you all there!” She grinned at them happily.

For a moment, there was stunned silence from the fillies. Then Sweetie Belle said, “The Grand Galloping Gala? We’re going to the Grand Galloping Gala? We’re going to the Grand Galloping Gala?” Apple Bloom eyes shot wide open and she slowly repeated, “We’re going to the Grand Galloping Gala?” Both began hopping up and down, like Pinkie Pie, singing, “We’re going to the Gala!” After a moment, Scootaloo joined in, wheeling in tight circles and loops over their heads. Harry merely stared with widened eyes. *

The wizards, witches, and squibs stared at the fillies, puzzled and curious.

While his mum watched him and the fillies with a smirk, Rarity walked over to the former people. “It’s the event of the year!” she said, with a hint of excitement of her own. “A Grand Ball in Canterlot where only the most important ponies are in attendance. The princesses themselves are there!” She sighed dramatically. “The music! The dances! The ponies!” She smiled dreamily at them, “You simply must get a ticket if you are anypony!”

They made their way to the Apple farmhouse. The fillies were bouncing around like rabbits, with occasional respites as their sister’s would calm them down, only to start back up a moment later. It didn’t take long for Ginny, Hermione, and Myrtle to get almost as excited, although Hermione began to worry that she didn’t know any of the pony dances. Meanwhile, Rarity was regaling them with stories about previous Galas and the ponies she had met at the last two balls.

Harry plodded along with Ron. He remembered what the previous ball was like, and feared that this one would be the same — boring. The two colts rightly feared that the only activities would be dancing and talking.

Well, at least the appetizers would be interesting. Which cheered up Ron when he heard there would be plenty of food.

And they overheard Harry’s mum reassuring the others that she and the other mares would be happy to teach them the basics of pony dancing.

Granny Smith was more than pleased to show them the spread she had prepared for them. She had insisted that the former people eat seconds and thirds, as they all looked like they hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks!

After stuffing themselves until they could barely walk, they headed on to Ponyville. Once they left the farmhouse, Myrtle took great delight in saying, “Oh, look, what a wonderful moon tonight!”

The brilliant full moon left the newcomers gobsmacked. Back home it was not yet full, and only the bright stars could be seen. Here, the stars were brilliant, and not completely eclipsed by the moon. They were also in patterns that were entirely foreign to their experience — especially Hermione who had acquired a night-sky atlas to accompany her Astronomy text. The moon itself, however, completely flummoxed them. The features on it were nothing like what they used to seeing. That, more than anything else, convinced them they were nowhere near home.

Harry and the others spent the rest of the walk into town giggling, along with the fillies — who went into an occasional exuberant “We’re going to the Gala!” dance — as the Grangers and Sirius spent more time looking up than where they were going.

Scootaloo and Rainbow left for their homes once they were in town. Rarity’s and Sweetie Belle’s home in the Carousel Boutique was another surprize to the newcomers. As were some of the other building they saw. The architecture on display, under the brilliant full moon, left them agog.

After a promise that she would show them the Castle tomorrow, the guests were led to their rooms. Harry spent the night in his mum’s room. It felt wonderful to cuddle, once more.

۸-_-۸

Albus watched the train disappear into the distance from his window in the castle. He gave a relieved sigh. One set of problems gone for a week. This coming week was going to be full of work at the Ministry.

After the scare . . . meeting . . . with the Prime Minister and Ambassador, Cornelius and Dolores had settled down. He had shared with both Princess Luna’s battle with the basilisk as it left its chamber and was captured in the forest. He had impressed on them that they needed to be cautious with the Equestrians. While Dolores still considered them as non-humans, even she had to admit that antagonizing a creature capable of restraining a twenty-yard long basilisk without significant strain was not a smart manoeuvre.

Particularly when Princess Luna, in the memory, had declared “We haven’t had such fun in ages!” and then added, “Perchance, dost thou have any other monsters with which We might joust?” And then looked so downcast at Dumbledore’s negative reply.

It was amazing to see, especially when everyone knew it would have taken a large team of Aurors to do the same thing, with the high possibility of numerous casualties and deaths.

And she had regarded it as fun!

Not to mention, she obviously had experience in battle that none of the current Aurors could match. Moreover, with their population, they would be able to field far more Aurors than the English could hope to marshal.

He had convinced Cornelius and Dolores that taking on the Equestrians as one magical nation against another would not be a move they could hope to win. Especially if the Equestrians could set up a portal anywhere they wanted. Portals that they knew were undetectable because their original portal had been undetected until they had announced it! A few portals in strategic places, and the Equestrians could move thousands of fighters into position before the Ministry of Magic even knew they were there.

The two had agreed, reluctantly, that the Ministry interfering with the Equestrians’ close relationship with the muggles would not be to their advantage. And that they might not be able to do anything about it anyway. And he reminded them of the Ministry adage, “Never give an order you can’t enforce.”

In addition, as the Ambassador had pointed out — which Albus had stressed, repeatedly — they could actually benefit from the Equestrians working with the muggles. It would serve to distract muggles from looking for wizards and witches when they could blame the Equestrians instead. All the Ministry had to do was make sure the wizards and witches didn’t start taking advantage of that attitude to do harm. And unintentionally reveal wizardkind.

Which had translated into more cooperation from Cornelius in tempering the disadvantageous laws regarding both non-humans and muggles. Plus, his help in upgrading Ministry rules and laws restricting unauthorized muggle contacts. Not to mention increasing the penalties to discourage ignoring the changes.

After all, if they weren’t careful, then the muggle government might ask for help from the Equestrians. And then where would the Ministry be? Whether they liked it or not, the conservatives would have to modify their behaviour or find themselves at the pointy end of many unfriendly wands.

The Senior Undersecretary contributed to the effort by not complaining too loudly.

There was, of course, an increase in the Auror budget to provide quicker responses for the inevitable incidents that would require fixing.

Rita’s articles had also had a marked impact. Her “in-depth analysis” articles had helped swing public opinion in favour of the Equestrians while vilifying the Ministry for dragging their feet. The fact that the Equestrians were not shy about spending their galleons had been another point to their benefit.

And the Equestrians were beginning to employ quite a few wizards and witches as teachers in the wizarding portion of their Embassy. They were quickly rising to second place as an employer, with only the Ministry, itself, being bigger. Their political clout, indirectly, was increasing dramatically.

Sirius’ votes, now that he had retaken the Black Family Seat on the Wizengamot, had also had an impact. Many of the “swing” votes had moved firmly into line behind Dumbledore as the newly-freed “Grey” wizard voted with Dumbledore’s suggestions on the items up before the Wizengamot. Many of the old families, formerly staunch supporters of the pure-blood-favouring laws and regulations championed by Lucius, had moved to become swing votes, most followed the lead given by Sirius.

The so-called Dark voting-block was definitely in a minority. Dumbledore could tell that Lucius, behind his façade of calm disdain, was livid at his new political impotence. Not even his “donations” to “worthy” causes had made much of a difference in the votes. Sirius just made larger donations to the same causes. And bribed the same individuals, when unavoidable.

And his weekly meetings Cornelius helped keep things focused where Albus felt they needed to be focused — bring the laws into accord with the muggle laws.

For the first time in years Dumbledore felt the Wizengamot was moving in the right direction. He could show the muggle government that the wizards were moderating their laws. And that he was succeeding in bringing them into compliance with what the muggles considered the “law of the land.”

And, as time passed, the wizards would become more comfortable with the Equestrians keeping wizardkind’s secrets while still dealing with the muggles on a large scale that benefited everyone — muggle and wizard.

The official Equestrian Embassy office in Hogsmeade, opening on Monday, would be of help bringing the Equestrians directly into the wizarding public’s limelight. That it would be a boost to the local economy by drawing more traffic to the locale was merely coincidental.

But there was still much to do. Too many important people felt ignored by the Ministry and the Equestrians. That was going to be his objective — cajoling more people in the public eye to support the direction the Wizengamot was turning. Maybe a suggestion to the Equestrians that they consider attending a Ball this Spring? If he could secure their attendance, it would be easy to get a friend to host a Spring Ball. Give everyone a chance to meet one of the elusive Equestrian Princesses. And Ambassador Blueblood.

And now would be the time to plant the seeds with the Equestrians about Harry spending the summer with the Weasleys. He just hoped Sirius would be subtle.

۸-~-۸

Breakfast and after was entertaining for everyone.

Sirius immediately noticed Harry as soon as he entered the dining room. After they helped themselves to the buffet, and were eating, he spent most of his time staring at the colt as he ate and talked with his family and friends, smiling. Harry started to get uncomfortable at the constant attention and slowly shifted closer to his mum.

Sirius didn’t seem to notice, but then he said, “Did I tell you your father and I met on the Hogwarts Express that very first day? That’s where we met your mother for the first time, too. We were all in the same compartment, by some coincidence.” He shook his head and smirked. “James fell for her instantly.”

Harry almost forgot to chew as he listened to the stories Sirius began to spin. The wizard told hilarious stories of those first days and some of the pranks he and James had played on each other, as well as Remus.

Part way through breakfast, the fillies arrived. They, too, were enthralled, and listened intently.

When Harry told Sirius that Remus had told him some of those stories, he was, at first, quite pleased, and smiled broadly. This started a whole chain of stories that started, “Did he tell about the time we . . . .” After a dozen stories, and a dozen, “Noes,” he began to get upset.

“Just how much has he told you?” he asked, his voice a bit tense, scowling.

“Well,” Harry looked as his friends a bit guiltily, “Every few weeks? Maybe four or five times total? About an hour or so each?”

“What!” Sirius stood up, angry. “That’s all?” He stared at the colt with wide eyes, “He should have been meeting with you every weekend! At least!” He glowered at the colt.

Harry shrank back.

“Why didn’t he see you more often?” the wizard angrily demanded.

“He didn’t want anyone to think he was playing favourites?” Harry explained defensively. “That he had a lot of work to do grading papers and planning lessons? That’s what he said.”

Sirius started pacing, “That’s ridiculous! He’s telling you stories about your parents, not giving you special lessons or up-grading your papers!” He spun to face Harry. “It’s his duty as fellow Marauder to ensure you know as much about your parents as he can!”

“Sirius,” his mum said sternly, and glared at him. As were the fillies, Hermione, and Ginny. Myrtle and Ron were frowning. Hermione’s parents were puzzled at his rather extreme reaction.

The wizard startled, and looked at her. After a moment, he sighed. “Sorry, my emotions are still touchy. But, still, Remus and I will be having words when we get back!” He snorted loudly. “Ignoring the son of his best friend like that. Ha! He will be getting so pranked for that!”

He returned to his place at the table, took a breath, and looked at Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry. It just caught me by surprise. I’m not mad or upset with you. Just Remus.”

Harry relaxed a bit. He didn’t like being the focus of such anger.

Sirius took another breath. “Give me a moment.” He closed his eyes and didn’t seem to be doing anything for several minutes.

Harry looked at Sirius and then at the fillies and his friends. The fillies just shrugged. Sweetie Belle, the closest, leaned against him. His mum had draped a wing over them both.

Sirius opened his eyes and gave everypony a relaxed smile. “Now then, we were talking about your parents, weren’t we?”

Harry greatly appreciated the stories about his father, especially the many about how his mother had rejected the wizard as a suitor. And it had gone on for years. That there weren’t that many about his mother, Sirius explained, was because the two started dating very late at Hogwarts, when they were in their seventh year, and he wasn’t around the girl as much. Sirius did have some wonderful and touching stories about Harry’s parents once his mother announced the pregnancy.

They thought Harry’s mother running her husband ragged with outlandish food demands was too funny for words.

The stories took most of the morning and left everypony in a wonderful mood.

He had even told them that he had been “adopted” by the Potters and had lived in their home for several years after running away from his ancestral home. He refused to elaborate why he had left home, though. He did promise Harry that he had many more stories he was willing to share about his grandparents, as well.

Harry didn’t understand it though. The stories Sirius was telling were funny. Unlike the newspaper articles he had read, these pranks didn’t really hurt anyone, nor humiliate them. The pranks might embarrass somepony, but afterwards, the ones being pranked, laughed at the joke that had been played on them. The pranks were more like inside jokes shared with friends, not the vicious pranks that left somepony physically injured and in need of hospital, like the ones Dudley would pull on Harry. Or the ones mentioned in the articles.

After a small lunch, they decided to show the newcomers around Ponyville. And tell some stories of their own as they saw things that reminded them of their past Cutie Mark Crusades. All of which greatly amused Sirius and the others.

Rainbow Dash took the time to encourage Hermione’s parents into flying, even going so far as to show them crashes weren’t a problem.

“See,” Rainbow said, climbing out of the small crater in the road, “No harm done! Pegasi are really durable! And AWESOME!” She rocketed up into the sky and looped around, leaving a small contrail of rainbow behind her. She landed lightly beside them and leaned closer. “Really, you can’t get hurt unless you try,” she said conspiratorially.

Soon, the Grangers were slowly flapping beside the group as they meandered around. Just that little practice gave them confidence. Their skill at manoeuvring rose dramatically as the afternoon passed. And they discovered that crashing at that low of an altitude was no more damaging than stubbing one’s toe as a human. It was far more embarrassing than hurting.

The evening meal was a big affair as Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow stopped by to hear what had happened at Hogwarts since Hearth’s Warming Eve. So, The Firsties spent the evening sharing stories about Hogwarts.

Sirius already knew that Professor Snape — Snivellus, as he called him — was the potions professor. So he was in tears from laughter as they explained how Sweetie Belle somehow made almost every potions class a disaster zone of one kind or another. So far this year, they summarized, she had created a potion that made her repeatedly sneeze like a dragon (setting Professor Snape’s robes and then his hair on fire). Each sneeze had a different coloured flame and the potion lasted until just after dinner. Another had her speak only in rhyme for the rest of the day. The next week, drinks had started to complain when she tried to drink them. And the next week, she had started hiccupping, which changed everyone’s hair colour to something new each time, or at least those within ten yards.

Harry had explained how hard it had been to keep a straight face when Professor Snape’s hair was a sickly-green plaid when his robes suddenly turned yellow and blue striped. Then, of course, had been Valentine’s Day and the little hearts flying around everyone’s head. Professor Snape, they told Sirius, had been especially upset that he, himself, had apparently triggered the effect when he vanished her apparently harmless, and useless, potion.

Hearing how he had been turned into a woman, and some of Sweetie Belle’s other accomplishments, were just too much. Sirius ended up lying on the floor snorting and laughing.

For a few moments, Harry wondered if the wizard was going to pass out from lack of oxygen when he heard how they were pranking the Professor’s clothes.

Finally, later, when he could talk without bursting into giggles, he said, “Pensieve. I want copies of those memories!” He had looked at the alicorn princess, hopefully.

She frowned. “We really don’t have anything like that,” she said quietly.

“Pensieve?” questioned the Mr. Granger, glancing at his wife.

After the explanation, they were all thinking how useful such an item would be.

“I could relive my best moves!” cried Rainbow as she streaked around the room.

Sirius stood. “I’ll be back in a little while,” he said. “I’ll get the Black pensieve.” He didn’t quite run out of the room, but it was close.

Twilight sighed. “Well, it’s getting late, we should pick this up tomorrow,”

“And don’t forget, tomorrow you all need to come to the Carousel Boutique so I can get your measurements for dresses,” said Rarity, looking at all the fillies, and Mrs. Granger.

Ron and Harry were startled, then relieved at being left out.

Rarity looked at them. “And you, too, need to look your best.”

The colts were dismayed at the prospect.

She looked at Mr. Granger. “And I’ll make sure your outfit matches your wife and daughter’s.”

He nodded in acceptance.

۸-~-۸

Harry cuddled with his mum until Sirius returned with his family pensieve. Twilight, after making sure Harry was still asleep, had quickly disappeared into her laboratory with Sirius and the artefact.

The next morning, Harry had awoken to discover Twilight had never returned to bed. Not surprising, considering she was getting to examine a rare artefact, in detail. And while Sirius might not know the details of why and how it worked, he was intimately familiar with operating it.

Harry and Spike took breakfast into the lab when it became apparent neither individual was making it to breakfast. Twilight was so deep into making her own version of the stone bowl that she didn’t even notice them entering the lab until Spike placed the plate he was carrying directly on top of her research notes.

Sirius was passed out on a couch in one corner of the room, drooling. However, the smell of an omelette and coffee was more than sufficient to wake him. And, as soon as he had devoured everything on the plate, he demanded that Harry immediately begin delivering memories.

When Harry didn’t return to the dining room, the fillies sought out the laboratory. They were quickly drafted into giving their own memories for inclusion.

Twilight maintained she would look at the memories later, once she had finished her pensieve. In the meantime, Sirius made a point of duplicating the memories twice, putting them into vials, labelled for each person, and returning the originals. Then he dropped half the duplicates into his pensieve. Twilight, when she was finished, would have a ready supply of her own copies to test her pensieve with the rest.

Myrtle, Percy, and the Grangers followed a bit later when the fillies didn’t return. Being able to relive their memories, and see the same event from multiple perspectives was extremely enlightening. Not to mention hilarious when seen in its totality, after some of the views were merged.

It also gave the Grangers a good look into life at Hogwarts, and what it was like for magic to be a common occurrence. And just how awful a teacher Professor Snape was.

“They would boot him immediately,” Mrs. Granger said, “from any school, just for his attitude, never mind his deplorable teaching style.”

“The government would revoke his teaching license so fast it would make your head spin,” added Mr. Granger.

Unfortunately, Twilight was not in the memory to see the classes or hear the Grangers comments, Harry reflected. He looked over to Spike, who was watching everything intently. He wanted to know what the magical school was like, too. Maybe she didn’t have to be here right now, he decided.

Sweetie Belle’s memories of a few of the disasters had let them see just how it was that her potions went off course so frequently. The usual cause was a desire to “improve” the potion, her magic deciding to take a hand/hoof in the process.

It was only when Rarity showed up at lunch that the group of six fillies realized what they had forgotten.

To Harry and Ron’s relief, Rarity took their measurements first, allowing them to escape from the Carousel Boutique while the others were occupied. Unfortunately, Twilight did say they had to stay in the castle.

Ron thoroughly enjoyed the drop chute to the pool. As did the others when they finally made their way back. The unicorns got a really good workout transporting the others back up to the thrones room.

They were pretty tired when dinner-time rolled around.

And no matter how much Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione protested, yawning widely in the middle knocked out their arguments that they weren’t that tired. Plus, after quick baths, they were barely able to keep their eyes open. Which led to early bedtimes.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

* There is confusion on when the Grand Galloping Gala takes place. The official MLP website says it is on New Years Eve. However, in Season One when Spike is reading the invitation in The Ticket Master, he says it’s on the 21st. In The Best Night Ever, also Season One, Fluttershy says it’s the night a rare flower blooms. Plus, there is no snow on the grounds. So this has to take place after Winter Wrapup in the Spring. Then, in Hearts and Hooves Day, the grass is green and there are flowers in bloom. So, it should take place between late December and late February. (Which makes for a rather mild winter by northern Earth temperate zone standards).

Which, if it is on February 21st, places the gala on Friday, in 1992, in our world, and smack in Spring half-term Break for U.K. schools! What a wonderful co-incidence!

My Ko-fi account is available if you would like to show any physical appreciation for this story.

112 — Making Friends?

The next day, it was a group of twelve that set out to visit Zecora. Apple Bloom wanted to share what she had learned, and see what the Zebrican had created since their last visit. Harry, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo went to keep her company. The rest and the Grangers went along, because, why not?

And Sirius went with them because that was where Harry was going. Besides, he wanted to see the Everfree for himself. It couldn’t really be all that dangerous, right?

This time, their escort was six Guards. They all wore the rifle saddles, Harry was curious to see. The saddle-systems worn by the two earth ponies, however, seemed more like pipes with hoses that led to two big, sealed, tanks of some kind mounted above their backs, instead of the rods with the quarter-circle clips he had seen them with the last time. Plus, those two wore goggles. Hermione gave them a wide-eyed look and stayed as far from them as she could manage — and behind them.

Sirius tried to chat them up and learn what the saddles were all about. The Guards spent their time watching the forest and ignoring him, so he gave up. Which didn’t take long. Harry had long since concluded that Sirius had a real problem with keeping his focus — anything that could distract him, did. He hoped that that was something from Azkaban and would fix itself with time.

The fillies were a bit upset at the enlarged escort. The Guards kept them on the trail. They couldn’t drift away to explore the things they noticed to one side or the other as they walked through the forest. They found the constraints rather annoying. How could they get their Cutie Marks if they weren’t allowed to do things?

Harry was relieved to see that the trail to Zecora’s tree had been widened. There was now a nice clearing where they had fought off the timber-wolves. And it conspicuously curved away from the patches of poison joke flowers — with warning signs, no less!

Sirius, however, was more than willing to examine the flowers closer. Especially after reading the warning signs. Fortunately, the others were able to dissuade him before he bounded into the field of still melting snow — Winter Wrap-up did not include the Everfree Forest! — looking for blue flowers.

Except for keeping Sirius on track — which, honestly, was harder to do than the fillies had ever been, Harry decided — they had an uneventful trip to the odd tree that was the Zebrican’s home. Which still had bottles, masks, and other things dangling from its branches.

Zecora was pleased to see them. “Oh, what a pleasure! To see my friends is such a treasure. What new things do you bring? I’m sure they will make me want to sing.” She swung open her door in invitation.

Sirius stared at the Zebrican in shock. He kept looking at her Mohawk-style mane and gold bangles, and shaking his head.

Four Guards took watchful positions around the tree while everypony else crowded inside. It was a tight fit with so many, even if the pegasi were overhead.

“Sorry we didn’t bring any more ingredients,” Apple Bloom said. “But we do have some of the ingredient lists for potions Sweetie Belle has accidentally made.” She took some papers out of her saddlebags and hoofed them to Zecora.

“That is nothing to apologize for, it is always a delight when you come to my door,” she said, accepting that papers and giving them a quick read. After a moment, she said, “Oh my, what a selection! How did you get such a collection?” She looked curiously at Sweetie Belle.

“Heh, I’m not sure,” she said hesitantly, shifting on her hooves nervously.

“If’n you want to see her in action,” said Scootaloo mirthfully, “we’ve got a pensieve at the castle so you can actually watch her.”

At the Zebrican’s puzzled expression, Harry explained. “A pensieve lets you view someone’s memory of an event. It’s really neat, you can look around and wander all around them, but you can’t change anything.”

She stepped back in surprize, “In somepony else’s head? Isn’t that something a pony should dread?”

Sirius and the others smirked.

“Oh, no,” Percy said. “You select the memory you want people to view, and place it in the pensieve. Then others can go into it to see and hear what you saw,” he continued officiously. “They can’t do anything more. What you think or felt, they can’t determine, unless you say something.”

“Yeah,” said Apple Bloom, “Imagine teaching with one of those, you could show a pony what a potion was all about without wasting any ingredients.”

Zecora looked impressed, “That sounds quite dandy. Is it your school’s modus-operandi?”

The younger ones looked puzzled, but Percy knew what she meant. “No, unfortunately.” He shook his head. “They are exceedingly rare. Only the Ministry, Hogwarts, and a few very rich families own one. Far too few to use in teaching.”

“I have one,” Sirius said proudly. “Twilight’s trying to figure out how it works.”

“But mum expects to make one, soon,” Harry said excitedly. “If you ask her, she could make one for you, too.”

“In the meantime,” Sirius said, “You can use mine, if you want, while we’re here.”

Zecora nodded. “Perhaps that is what I shall do. I’ll go back with you before there’s a queue.”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo, nodding, “We’ll put a few other memories in the pensieve so you can see the castle and Diagon Alley. They’re really neat.”

The shaman nodded, too, “A magical village in a world without, I think it is something to learn about.”

She told them she had quite enjoyed the potion books and experimenting with the supplies they had dropped off last time. She had managed to find what she thought would be good substitutes for some of the ingredients not found in Equestria — such as flobberworms.

She also told them that she had managed to duplicate the effects of the Ginger Gender Gels. They didn’t taste like ginger, unfortunately. It was more like slightly-burnt honey with liquorice. But it also meant the candies could be locally made, if the twins were interested. She gave them the recipe to give to the twins.

The conversations went on for the rest of the morning. Hermione was especially interested in the Zebrican’s homeland, no surprise. Zecora was more than willing to tell them a bit about growing up on the savannah.

They returned to the castle in time for lunch. The trip out of the forest was just as boring as the one into it, the fillies decided. Maybe the Everfree wasn’t that awful, anymore. Harry tried to convince them that it was that the path was well-travelled, now. As a result, the smaller forest creatures didn’t like that activity. And when the small creatures left, the bigger ones followed them. Apple Bloom allowed that that might be so.

They spent the rest of the afternoon with Sirius’ pensieve. They shared memories of Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and the Weasley home. Zecora, after a bit of coaxing by Harry’s mum, shared some memories of her homeland. And secured a promise that she would get the third pensieve mum made — his mum would keep the first and the second was going to Princess Celestia.

Zecora seemed especially interested in the Forbidden forest, and the unicorns they had seen.

۸-_-۸

As Harry had suspected, the Gala started out just as boring as he and Ron had thought it would be. The fillies thought this was a wonderful event and had been looking forward to it. They seemed enamoured of the glitz and glamour that it embodied. Even Ginny, Hermione, and Myrtle had been seduced into their enthusiasm. And all were awed at what they saw. His mum had done an outstanding job of planning, he was proud to see.

They were all attending, because it just wouldn’t be polite to leave mum’s guests alone back in Ponyville, and out of the event.

Percy had been interested in attending because, he said, “It is an excellent opportunity to see how their High Society functions. The other Ball we attended was an official Ambassadorial and Knighthood function. It was limited to government officials and nobles of note, only. This one will be much more widespread in its attendees.” He had smiled thinly. “More representative.”

The only saving grace, Harry thought, was that this time there would not be a receiving line, just a Major Domo to announce the guests as they arrived. He shuddered, remembering. This time there would be no standing still for an hour or more as inferiors with fake smiles walked by offering insincere “Hellos” while judging him to be less important, or powerful, than themselves.

At least they were not quite as much a bunch of suck-ups as the wizards and witches at the Ministry Charity Balls. Some of the attendees at those he had barely restrained himself from hexing. And the Private Balls there had been only a bit better.

He almost checked for his wand when he remembered he didn’t need one, and so had not brought it.

Harry shook his head, confused. He let the five fillies drag him onto the dance floor. There was something wrong, there, with that thought. He had never been to a ministry ball. So why would he feel that way?

And he had friends who wanted to be with him because they liked him, not because of what he could, had, or would do. He had friends, not acquaintances he treated as servants or slaves. The very idea to do that was outrageous!

Sirius was gobsmacked at the size of Canterlot and the castle. “The only thing that the wizards have that even comes close to being the size of this castle is the Ministry,” he said. “And that’s underground!”

Still, it took only a few minutes before word spread that he was unattached. A steady stream of mares began to approach him, and Percy, for dances. At first, they were pairs, as-in, a mother and daughter. Percy danced with the daughter while Sirius got the mother. That soon broke down and the two stallions found themselves in great demand and dancing with multiple partners.

Ron became the centre of a smaller group of ponies, more his age, that wanted to know where he came from. When they discovered he was new to Equestria and had not seen much in the way of appetizers, they were more than happy to escort him to the table for samples. They were surprised at how much the colt could pack away, and a competition developed among the fillies as to who could find the oddest appetizer.

At first, the servers were a bit nonplussed at the speed with which their offerings were disappearing. When one of them heard that the colt had never eaten Equestrian foods and wanted to sample some, they told the cooks. A challenge! The cooks then entered into the spirit of the affair. New dishes appeared from the kitchens as fast as the group of fillies and colt could sample them.

Myrtle wandered off into the ballroom scrum, looking for a suitable dance partner.

Harry missed when Discord first appeared, but seeing the strange green blob-like creature with the God of Chaos had him eyeing the balcony-level tables above. And looking for the nearest staircase to them.

Unfortunately, not much later, the Smooze, as they had heard it called, suddenly appeared in front of them, trapping them with a wall at their backs. Harry jumped back a bit, startled. Then he moved between the Smooze and his fillies.

“Hi!” he said brightly. The Smooze couldn’t be that awful or Discord wouldn’t have brought him. Right? “I’m Harry Sparkle!” He paused and nothing happened for a moment except the line that he thought was a mouth curved up at the edges.

After a few moments of nothing happening, he said, “Um, are you Mr. Smooze, The Smooze, or just Smooze?”

The smile grew a tiny bit, but that was the only response.

Hermione, beside him now, staring at the creature, said, “If you understand me, could you make a hoof and hold it up like this.” She raised her hoof up over her head.

Slowly, a small column of green grew out below the “mouth” and then swung up.

Hermione wriggled happily. “Do you have a preference for being called any of Mr. Smooze, The Smooze, or just Smooze? Point your hoof up for ‘yes’ and down for ‘no’.” A quill, ink pot, and paper floated out of her dress saddlebags.

The extended pod stayed up.

“Mr. Smooze? Again, point your hoof up for ‘yes’ and down for ‘no’.” The writing implements moved in front of her and she stared at the paper, the quill making notes.

The extended pod swung down.

“The Smooze?” she canted her head to side, slightly, keeping one eye on the Smooze and the other on her quill and paper, the quill moving quickly.

The pod stayed down.

“Smooze?” she said, her tone rising at the end

The pod moved up.

“Wonderful,” she cried out happily. She frowned, thinking. “Do you know Morse Code? No! Can you read?”

The pod stayed up.

“Can you write?” she said eagerly.

The column of green ooze swung around to point down.

“Do you know what a typewriter is?”

Harry and the others exchanged glances. Smooze and Hermione seemed oblivious to them, caught up in establishing communications.

Sweetie Belle shrugged and looked at the students. “I’m thirsty. How about I get drinks?”

That was an excellent idea, they decided. Scootaloo went with her. Apple Bloom looked around, nodded at Ginny and Harry, and then at a nearby table.

Hermione absentmindedly followed them, walking sideways as Smooze followed her. Soon, the five of them were relaxing and occasionally helping Hermione teach Smooze how to form letters on the table-top with his ooze.

Smooze managed, without trying, to keep the skittish ponies away.

It didn’t take too long, however, for the fillies and Ginny to drag Harry to the dance floor once more. That was why they were here, anyway, and not to teach a strange creature how to write.

Not soon enough for Harry, they were again at the table, later. Then, weirdly, Harry thought, the four fillies decided to head to the bathroom. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, they dragged Hermione with them. He and Smooze remained at the table and watched the five fillies leave.

Harry sighed. “I’m going to get a drink and some snacks,” he said, and headed for the table with several punch bowls on it. When he returned with a small cloud of drinks and plates of snacks, there was no sign of Smooze. Then he heard a shriek from the other side of the ballroom, where Discord appeared to be displeased with a green pony in a light purple dress and with a two-tone orange mane.

“Where’d he go?” asked Hermione when the fillies returned, disappointed to not see him. She looked around for him.

“Uh,” said Harry, “There he is.” He pointed a hoof in the direction of the commotion.

From the sounds of the shrieks, things were a bit more chaotic. And Smooze seemed to have grown a bit larger. A lot larger.

Plus, Discord was definitely displeased with the green pony. He held her in front of a portal that led to a desert. Whether it was on Equus or not was an open question.

Fluttershy flew — flew! — up to him and started reprimanding him.

Meanwhile, Smooze seemed to be running — oozing — everywhere. The animagi quickly relocated themselves to one of the upper level tables. As did every pegasus in the ballroom, many carrying their wives, husbands, boyfriends, girlfriends, or foals who were wingless. Which still left over half the ball’s attendees down at floor-level — Canterlot had far more unicorns who called it home than the other two tribes.

Harry was relieved to see, after some hard searching, that Ron, Percy, Myrtle, and the Grangers were not trapped downstairs. Nor were their respective entourages in evidence down there.

And, in true herd mentality, the ponies simply ran far enough to be out of immediate danger, then turned to watch the green glob and the other ponies running around. A good number had no idea why they were running, they were simply following their neighbours.

The balconies had almost every space at their railings filled with ponies watching the entertainment below. Harry couldn’t help but giggle with the fillies at all the unicorn nobles getting their comeuppance. It would have been delightful to see such chaos at a ministry ball.

The animagi swiftly noticed that while Smooze seemed to be running wild, no ponies were actually hurt. Several of the unicorn guards tried to restrain him, but found themselves covered in green goo and unable to capture or slow the creature. The other guards worked at removing ponies from his vicinity.

There was a lot of shrieking and screaming, and ponies trying to hide in ridiculous places, such as behind drapes — you could easily see their hooves — under tables — again, their hooves were easily visible — and even using other ponies as cover! The loudest shrieks seemed to come from Rarity when she saw how her wonderful creations were being ruined by green goo.

It didn’t take long to see that there was a pattern to Smooze’s movements — he had a thing for shiny objects. The more jewellery a pony wore, the more likely the Smooze was to go after that pony. And since most nobles took events such as this to display their wealth with fancy, shiny, bejewelled necklaces, bracelets, and head-gear, well Harry could see they had brought his attention upon themselves.

The common guests, with no shiny baubles to attract his attention — the nobles’ poorer relations or friends, or the really old families that didn’t feel the need to such ostentatious peacock displays — escaped Smooze’s notice.

Harry couldn’t help but see that several guests seemed to be exchanging bits as particular ponies on the floor escaped or were caught by Smooze. And with every item Smooze acquired, he got a bit bigger.

His mum tried to defeat the Smooze in battle, to no avail, he disappointedly saw. Then Princess Celestia took a horn at it. She pretended to fail.

She couldn’t fool Harry. She could control the sun. If she had wanted, she could have simply vaporized Smooze. There might have been a few singed ponies and melted furnishings, but she could have done it.

She was having too much fun watching the chaos! He could tell that by the faint smirk he saw when his mum was looking away from her.

As long as none of her little ponies were seriously hurt, the Princess didn’t care what happened. And he was confident that either she or Discord had warned Smooze of the consequences if he actually hurt anypony.

And Luna! This was an evening Ball! Where was Luna? There was no way she didn’t know what was going on. And Celestia help you if she thought you were going to hurt one of her ponies on her watch! The only conclusion he could reach was that she was somewhere in the castle watching all this and laughing herself silly.

Discord finally resolved his conflict with the green pony in the light-purple dress. Then he noticed what Smooze had been up to while Discord was ignoring him. He retrieved the items Smooze had appropriated. With a few snaps of his fingers, and ridiculous displays of chaos — such as a vacuum-cleaner with no power-cord — things slowly returned to normal.

Harry and his friends hurried over to the Princesses once it became clear that the situation was resolved. Harry overheard his mum apologize to Princess Celestia. He knew she must feel devastated. She had made at least fifteen different lists and checked them obsessively — as usual. The ball was as perfect at the beginning of the evening as it had been equinely possible for her to make it.

And then Discord had happened.

Harry wasn’t nearly as surprised as his mum, though, when the Princess said, “You have nothing to apologize for. This has been the most fun Gala in centuries!”

“I know, it was a —” his mum had started, then she did a double-take and stared at her mentor, amazed. “What?! But there was ooze all over the place! And one of the guests threatened to send somepony to another dimension!” she said.

Proving that he had been right, Princess Celestia said, “I know! Can you imagine how dull it would have been if I hadn't invited Discord? Come on! Whoo! The night is still young!” And she wriggled slightly and shifted from hoof-to-hoof in delight while grinning widely, like a little filly gazing at a long-sought-after present.

For the rest of the evening Smooze and Discord went around to the various guests and apologized for disrupting the ball. However, Harry got the distinct impression from watching that many of the guests the pair approached could have done without the apology. They would have been quite happy to hear it from a distance — like the other side of the ballroom. Or in another city.

Especially because little bits of chaos drifted around the two. Harry didn’t even have to look for the two miscreants to know where they were. The bubble of distressed noises and sounds around them gave away their location. And Princess Celestia had a permanent grin the entire time.

The animagi and their friends returned to the dance floor. After an hour, it was as if nothing had gone wrong in the first place. This merely confirmed to Harry that ponies had shorter danger memories than even wizards and witches!

Like the last ball, it was a very late night for the students.

And tomorrow they had to prepare to catch the train back to Hogwarts on Sunday.

۸-_-۸

Elly had mixed feelings about staying at the castle over the break. On the one hoo . . . hand, the castle was fairly deserted as most students went home. This made it difficult, if not impossible to collect food. The students who remained simply were not very romantically inclined. Most were fifth and sixth years studying for their exams, and when they weren’t studying, they collapsed into sleep. So, no joy there.

On the other hand, however, she got to explore the castle without anyone being the wiser. So, explore she did. As she knew, there were doors pretending to be walls, walls pretending to be doors, doors that only opened if you asked politely or tickled them in the right place, and doors that opened to one room one day and another the next. And now she could examine each of them as long as she wanted without anyone asking questions. They would be wonderful additions to her hive, if anyone ever discovered it or she allowed visitors inside. And the nymphs would have such fun! She only had to figure out the magic!

Although, how did you know it was a wall pretending to be a door and not simply locked with a powerful spell? She didn’t know any spells to go through walls, so she couldn’t very well check.

She started at the top of the castle, the Astronomy tower, and started working her way down. She discovered a number of secret passages hidden behind tapestries, portraits, and statues or armours. One was a slide that took her straight to the dungeons, beside the Slytherin dormitory. Quite handy for the Slytherins after Astronomy classes late at night. No long walks when you were half-asleep on your feet. From the dust, only recently had anyone discovered it. Oddly, though, it didn’t show regular use. Hadn’t the discoverer shared the secret?

Then, to her delight, she found a short secret corridor and staircase halfway down the tower that led directly to the hall outside the Hufflepuff Common Room! It should have been much longer, considering the distance, but she wasn’t going to object. The dust coating everything had been recently disturbed by someone, but other than that it indicated no one else had used this passage in a very long time.

She would have great fun being the last to leave the observation platform at the top of the Astronomy Tower, and yet be inside her common room to meet her friends as they came in. The feelings she would get when she finally revealed how she had done that would be well worth concealing the secret tunnel at first.

At the base of the tower, in a small niche behind a suit of armour was a small passage barely big enough for her. An adult human would have had to crouch to fit, and an overweight adult simply wouldn’t! And, as she explored it, it got smaller still until she was crawling. The dust levels, again, indicated no one else had used this passage in a very long time.

She finally emerged in large room, behind a short column that at one time might have held a statue. When she stood and looked behind her, she saw a blank wall. Trying to reopen the passage was a waste of her time. For all she could tell, the wall was solid. She huffed. A one-way passage. How inconvenient.

She looked around the non-descript square room with seven stone stands for statues, four in the corners and three in the middle of three walls. The closed door to the room took the middle of the fourth wall. Nothing stood out at first — except the familiar mirror in the centre! Yes, indeed, she saw, hurrying over to it, it was the Mirror of Erised!

The Headmaster wasn’t in the castle today, which meant she didn’t have to worry about him finding her. He had left after breakfast, telling Professor McGonagall that he had Ministry business to take care of, and not to expect him back until late.

With so many students on holiday, it had been easy to listen in to their conversation with a hearing charm.

She parked herself in front of the mirror and spent the rest of the morning taking notes on what she could see and decipher. Even though she knew it was showing her images from her own subconscious, it still felt like the lings in the mirror were real. That, somehow, they could see her and react to her questions as she mumbled during her note-taking. That what she was seeing was something in the future, if she could only find the clues.

She would have to return before school was out to see if anything had changed.

The door to the room was locked, she found, when she tried to leave. It took her another hour of careful searching before she found the hidden exit near the opposite wall to the one she had entered from. Naturally, it was behind one of the stone columns, but this time it wasn’t in the wall. Five hard taps on the back of the column released the trapdoor, and down she went with a loud squeak. A few moments later she slid to a halt in front of a wooden panel. When she carefully opened it, she discovered she was in the Lower Chambers Portrait Corridor in the Dungeons, in a darkened niche squeezed between two portraits. Looking behind her, she saw only a solid wall. Pressing, pulling, tapping, and kicking did nothing to reveal the small room she had been in a moment ago. As far as anyone could tell, the wall was solid rock.

This place was definitely weird. But, oddly, rather fun.

She began carefully examining the corridor to see what other secrets it might have.

She still hadn’t found a safe place to stash some of her food jars. But, she knew, in this castle it was just a matter of searching thoroughly.

۸-_-۸

113 — Secrets

Starlight Glimmer, now known as Anne Bourchier, looked out the window of her apartment into the miserable weather that was England in February. Tom B. Sotted, the bartender at the Leaky Cauldron, had confided that it was a very mild and dry month. The temperature, however, barely reached fifty degrees Fahrenheit, ten degrees Centigrade — how weird was it that the wizards used the same scale as the Equestrians, but not the non-magicals? — during the days, and there had been several night frosts.

It was nothing like the frigid-cold temperatures of upper Equestria, where the winter months meant deep snows and temperatures rarely rose above freezing. And it was decidedly warmer than the cave she had had to retreat to, to escape Princess Sparkle’s unreasonable persecution after destroying her Town. So, the miserableness of it was merely a matter of interpretation, for her. She found it rather mild, herself.

On the other hoof, without a fur coat, these humans were very susceptible to the cold, she had discovered. She probably would have really disliked it more if she couldn’t cast powerful and long-lasting warming charms when she ventured outside. If the bad weather lasted much longer, she was going to put a few runes in her coat that would save her the trouble of casting warming charms when it was uncomfortably cold.

She sighed. She did miss her Town. And she was bored after the excitement of the previous weeks.

“Cleaning” Sirius Black’s home had been a challenge, and interesting. The spells she had discovered on many of the items had been intriguing and scary. Only an insane pony would have enchanted such vicious curses on items foals — children, she reminded herself — might have been able to access. They also gave her a bit of insight into just how unlike ponies these humans were. She shuddered at the thought. Their casual approach to life and death was appalling.

But, then again, so was the attitude of Griffons and Dragons, also known meat-eaters. They tended to play with their food before consuming it, and treated law-breakers much harsher than simple imprisonment in dungeons. Death was a frequent punishment. She shuddered again.

In any case, even her pedestrian apartment in the Alley was preferable to that dump at Twelve Grimmauld Place.

His home was dark and dank, almost like a cave, considering the great amounts of dust and mildew that covered everything. Why he continued to stay there left her bemused. It certainly wasn’t because he couldn’t afford anywhere else. Even an open field would be preferable. At least, that would have been her preference.

The spells on it, however, were quite impressive. Sirius had told her it was unplottable, which she had tested at her apartment. Sure enough, even though she knew where the house was after being led there, she couldn’t find it on a map. Every time she tried, she ended up looking somewhere else on the map other than where she knew it had to be.

There was a muggle-repelling charm on it, too. That one she felt as she crossed its surface. A useless spell in Equestria, but quite important to wizards. He warned her of the offensive and defensive magic’s, many were intent based. Without his presence letting her past the charms, she would have been blasted across the street. No warnings, just, boom! And waking up in a park.

And if she tried to force her way through them? Not a good idea. Not at all.

She had spent almost half-an hour just admiring how they all interacted, to his amusement. And tracing how they worked. By the end of the third day, she could recreate any of them. Although she could not ever imagine using the inside-out-charm on anything living. That was just needless cruelty. Just the sort of thing an insane Griffon or Dragon might like. Not that they would be able to cast that kind of magic, thank Faust!

The house-elf, Kreacher, was despicable. He was, by her standards, lazy, argumentative, and unpleasant both to speak to and to see. His trustworthiness, as Sirius had readily admitted, was definitely on the shady side. The only reason he hadn’t been dismissed, as Sirius had explained, was, “. . . he knows far too many secrets. Any of the Black Family’s many enemies would be delighted to get their hands on him.” So, Sirius kept him and made them both miserable.

The house-elf had made the mistake of calling her a muggle-born at their first meeting in the kitchen.

Sirius had turned red in anger, “Kreacher!” he had yelled.

Before he could say anything further, she had interrupted him. From the books she had read, she knew what the house-elf had meant.

“Sirius, let me handle this,” she had said calmly. “Kreacher,” she said, addressing the house-elf, hands on her hips. “I understand that you have been with the Black family for generations, as were your parents.” Her tone had turned cold. “Sirius has warned me that you considered the Black family to be the epitome of a magical Family, with a history that goes back at least five hundred years. However, you know nothing about me. You are not as intelligent as you think, or you would know better than to make assumptions about me based solely on the company I keep, or the manners in which I dress and speak.”

She hadn’t quite glared at him. She might not be in Equestria, anymore, but she was proud of her family — even if she did have disagreements with her parents. “My parents were magical, as were their parents. And their parents, and their parents. And that situation is true for the last thousand years. Do you understand?” She had tilted her head slightly.

Sirius had stared at her. He knew she had recently arrived in England. He had apparently assumed that meant she wasn’t a pure-blood by his standards.

Kreacher had screwed his face up in anger, and mumbled something. The only word she had understood was “blood-traitor.” Again, she had known what he had meant. She had read about it in the history books she had purchased several months ago.

She didn’t support the notion that some ponies, people, were preferred to others simply because of their political beliefs and the magic they used. Ponies, people, were all equal, that was what was important, not how one used their magic. Unfortunately, there were unicorns that felt differently than her. Mostly in Canterlot.

Oh, she knew there were magical spells and artefacts that would corrupt a pony, person. Terrible things that would turn a pony into something that was the exact opposite of what they had wanted to accomplish, such as the infamous Alicorn Amulet. She wanted nothing to do with things like those.

However, to ignore somepony for the sin of using their magic differently? That was absurd! A unicorn disregarded a pegasus or earth-pony at their own risk, as any guard in the EUP forces could attest! And the reverse was true, too. They all expressed their magic differently, but all were just as effective in their tribes.

Plus, here, there were no cutie marks to divide friendships. Who cared what magic they cast? As long as it didn’t hurt anypony, it didn’t matter. And if they did hurt somepony, they should be punished for their crimes. Regardless of their societal position or desires. No one should be above the law, in her opinion. It was how she had run her Town. And everyone had been happy until Miss Privileged Princess, and her meddling friends, had ruined everything.

She had rolled her eyes. “As if that word means anything to me,” she had said. “It has as little meaning to me as pure-blood. It all bleeds red, regardless.”

There had been silence for a moment.

Sirius had finally said, “Shut up, Kreacher. Clean the bathrooms.” Kreacher had left via the elf-version of teleporting. More direct, better safe-guards, but still not as safe as teleportation, she had noticed.

After a moment, he had said, “You didn’t mention that you’re a pure-blood,” accusingly.

She had looked at him. “Then you should have asked. Should I leave?” She arched an eyebrow.

He had coloured, then said, “No, stay, I still need help in cleaning the house.” He had paused. “You just don’t act like a pure-blood, that’s all.” He had given her an evaluating look, as if he were trying to see her secrets.

“It was never important at home. And it shouldn’t be, here. Only how hard you worked mattered, there.”

He had slowly nodded. Then he grinned. “Well, if you can trace your roots back a thousand years as a magical, then that means my family is a bunch of Johnny-come-latelies, doesn’t it? Mother would be practically beside herself at meeting such a distinguished personage as yourself, wouldn’t she?” He had chuckled.

She had snorted. “Right,” she had said drily. “Where do we start?”

Kreacher had kept out of her way, after that. And while he mumbled when he did see her, he had made sure she couldn’t exactly hear what he said. That he hadn’t been bothering her was just fine, as far as she had been concerned. If he left her alone, she would leave him alone. As long as he didn’t insult her to her face, she wouldn’t complain.

She had never worried about his cooking. That was because she had always ordered take-out lunches and dinners, and sealed them, before teleporting to Number Twelve each morning.

Dipping into her account was never a problem, as Sirius made it a point to pay her at the end of each day.

She hadn’t needed the money, but it was the principle. She didn’t work for free. Nobody should. That the house-elves did, bothered her a bit. But, then, they were a totally different race. And she knew from Equestria that you shouldn’t project your expectations of manners, attitude, and work ethic on other creatures. That would always get you in trouble.

He had started flirting with her almost immediately. And while it was nice that he thought her attractive, the idea of dating was as far from her plans as possible, at this stage. And he was human, not a pony. Their faces were just so . . . flat. And their range of expressions was so . . . limited.

Still, she had flirted back. They had both enjoyed the light-hearted bantering between them while dealing with the dangerous crap that was in his home. And they had gone to several restaurants for dinner, after work, both wizardkind and not.

It had been oddly enjoyable.

When he told her he was going to be visiting Equestria with Princess Sparkle so he could visit his god-son, Harry Potter, she had almost panicked. But then she realized that she wasn’t in any danger. There were no connections between Anne Bourchier, Bright Star, and Starlight Glimmer for any pony to find. And, if things were going as planned, no pony would even begin to suspect to look for Bright Star for several more weeks.

And she most certainly wasn’t about to reveal her unicorn form any time soon.

Thus it was that she found herself at loose ends for a week. Sirius had graciously allowed her to borrow a few books from the family library, after checking them for family curses, first. The books she had, he had deemed suitably innocuous to be allowed out of the house.

The first book had been on politics in wizarding England over the last three hundred years — up until 1920, that is, when it was published. Another, Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy, had been on the so-called pure-blood families, and their histories for the last two hundred years. It was rather surprising how frequently the two intersected.

What was especially interesting were the notes in the margins that previous Heads of the House Black had written, Those were most informative and revealed the reasons and jealousies that had driven some of the historical events. And not a few items that had been used for blackmail purposes.

If they weren’t so set on this ridiculous pure-blood ideology, half the blackmail material would have been useless.

It would all be so silly, if it weren’t so deadly.

Wizards and witches could be just as petty as school-foals, she decided, only they tended to do more than merely hurt a pony’s feelings or chase them out of town. These . . . people . . . settled their differences with nasty spells and duels that actually killed their opponents instead of shaming them or chasing them out of town. No wonder the number of pure-blood families had dropped to a mere twenty-eight over the last three hundred years!

And while Starlight wanted to hurt Princess Sparkle, she didn’t want her dead. No, she wanted her to suffer, as Starlight had suffered when the Princess had lied to her friends, and persuaded them to abandon her without reason. They had actually chased her out of the town she had started! It made her blood boil in anger at the memory.

But kill her? No, definitely not. Humiliation that lasted for years was so much more satisfying.

The third book had been on enchantments, which had required she buy a set of four books on rune-craft from the bookstore.

Plus, after seven days of only leaving her room to acquire fresh food so she didn’t have to waste time making her own, she was looking forward to Sirius’ return the day after tomorrow.

Now with a much better understanding of the political backgrounds, she only needed a few more-modern books to get a solid understanding of the current political climate. And she was sure Sirius would be happy to regale her with his family’s participation in the important events that had occurred since those books had been published. His insights, even ten years out of date, would be invaluable in determining the real players in politics today.

Then, Sirius could begin introducing her to the current movers and shakers that would allow her to move her agenda forward.

It was so much easier to get things done properly when ponies had their own reasons to follow her plans. Enlightened self-interest was a much better motivator than coercion. Or merely convincing someone to do something.

If they had something to gain or protect, they were far more likely to do what was needed without her doing anything more than making a suggestion or two. And then they would think it their idea, if she were subtle enough.

۸-_-۸

Elly balanced carefully on the rafter as she examined the area around the ceiling where it joined the wall. Below her, easily ten yards, was the nearly empty Great Hall. The ceiling above her, as well as the rafter she stood on, displayed the night sky outside. She had a very effective camouflage of a shadow against the night. All she had to do was avoid crossing in front of the moon — it was only two days past full, after all.

She had expected it to be difficult for her to see the rafters, but their tops were unaffected by the charms. It made sense. From this angle, such a spell would be silly. All it would show would be the tables and floor below. It would look like she was walking on thin air.

And probably would have confused the owls to no end. She could imagine an owl crashing into a rafter because, by displaying the floor below, it would be effectively invisible. So, better to leave it as uncharmed wood.

Of course, that it also happened to help hide her from view below was a bonus.

Thankfully, the house-elves took care to eliminate any spider-webs, cobwebs, feathers, and dust that might accumulate up here — wouldn’t want any of that falling down into the food! That meant she didn’t have to worry about the cascades of dust that would mark where she was walking. It did mean she couldn’t just leave the jars in the corners, she had to hide them inside something that wouldn’t be moved or opened by the elves.

She turned, about to jump to the next rafter, when she heard two Slytherin students below her. “. . . Chamber is huge!” one said, “No wonder it took them so long to canvass it.”

The acoustics up here were phenomenal.

The other sighed. “Yeah,” he said, “Too bad, too. There’s no way they didn’t find everything there was to find down there. It would have been fun searching for hidden rooms and holes. But, they know much more sophisticated spells than we do, so it would be a waste of our time.”

She paused. The Chamber of Secrets. She had avoided that place, so far. But they were right. The professors and other professionals, had already thoroughly explored it, and marked every hiding place. Which meant there had to be out-of-the-way places she could use. She wouldn’t have to worry about curious and exploring students finding her jars, because the students already knew there was nothing there or it already would have been found! And the professors had checked, so they, too, knew there was nothing to find.

What better place to hide something than somewhere people had already looked and found nothing?

She quickly made her way back to the access door at the back of the hall and slipped into the hidden tunnel that led to the floor.

۸-_-۸

Elly skipped happily across the Hogwarts lawn, heading for the castle. Success! And on the last day, too. The train from London should be here in less than an hour! She had spent all of yesterday carefully scouting the main Chamber and the rooms attached to it. There were just so many possibilities!

She had finally decided that she needed a place she could access, but not too easily or someone might find it by accident. So, this afternoon, she finally had decided on two hiding spots. One was inside the outer-chamber, not far from the slide that led from the bathrooms above in the school. An indentation was there, left by a brick — one the size of her head — that had fallen out. Two jars were there, behind a carefully-built façade of the brick that blended in perfectly. A symbol traced in one corner of a brick at floor level marked the location.

The other location was under the model of the snake they had erected in the chamber. For that one, she had had to excavate a small hole. It held two more jars. Both places were lined inside with waterproof green-resin, and spelled with runes into stasis. They would always be ready should any ling be in need in an emergency.

Again, the mark for the location was on a nearby brick. Any ling would easily find the stash after minimal effort.

Now all she had to do was leave instructions in key spots in the castle that she knew an infiltrator would routinely check. That way if any ling besides her ever came here, they wouldn’t be without resources.

And she was sure she would have a full set of jars to take to her home by the time summer arrived. She wouldn’t have to worry about scrimping for the summer hols.

If only there were another ling around, then she wouldn’t feel so lonely.

She wondered if it would be possible to sneak back across the portal and look for other lings. If she took along most of her jars, she wouldn’t have to risk exposure needing to acquire food.

But then she remembered the spell the Guards were using to detect lings. And she was sure they were a lot more careful, now, about keeping the portal isolated. Her first trip through had alerted them to a problem. Getting back would be a real effort. She slowed to a walk. No, that wouldn’t be a good plan. She would just have to tough it out — she was the last ling there, and the only ling here.

Until she started a hive. Could she start a hive? She wasn’t sure how to do that. Or even if it was possible. What little she remembered from the old hive-mind seemed to indicate it might, might, be possible.

She shook her head, trying to throw off the depressing thoughts. While there weren’t any lings around, she did have friends.

She now had a home . The goblins promised it would be ready for her to move into the week before school let out. She would have a busy summer preparing it for her permanent residence.

They had also gotten her several leads on setting up a restaurant. She had already rejected one as too close to the new Equestrian Magical Embassy Station in Diagon Alley. Too close as-in right beside it. Even though it was just a door and room, with a secretary and attached floo, she didn’t want to take chances. She was leaning very heavily towards one of two places in Hogsmeade, on High Street.

The one across from the Three Broomsticks had the advantage of being close to another floo. And being between Honeydukes and Zonko’s Joke Shop wouldn’t hurt business. The other was on a corner across from Scrivenshaft’s on High Street. Across the other street on the opposite corner was the Owl Post Office. That one looked more promising, even if the Hogs Head was farther down that narrow street. The place was already roomy, before one even started using expansion charms. It was also cheaper. She had to wonder, though, if the Hogs Head was that disrespectable. If so, she wouldn’t want to be located too close to it.

Its other disadvantage was that it was much closer to the Hogsmeade Equestrian Embassy Station. By about half the distance. Again, the station was only a room with a secretary and floo, but . . . .

Well, she had plenty of time to decide.

There was no hurry on that project.

Plus, absolutely no one suspected that she wasn’t who and what she said she was. And there were no tracks to lead to her, either. As an infiltration, it was a perfect role. Her only downfall would be if she made a mistake and gave herself away.

She didn’t plan to make any mistakes. She did plan to avoid the Headmaster and his Deputy as much as possible. And not do anything that possibly could draw attention to herself.

No sense in courting disaster.

۸-_-۸

Once back in Hogwarts, Harry began to obsess about the upcoming Quidditch match. It was only a week away, so Wood was really pressing them in the practices, which were now every afternoon before dinner. Which Harry actually appreciated. When he was in practice, he was too busy to worry directly about the game. Unlike his classes, eating, and studying, where he couldn’t keep his mind on the subject at hand. The worst was when he was trying to fall asleep.

Harry didn’t know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered whether Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Could Snape be stalking him? It didn’t make sense. Yet, there the wizard was, everywhere Harry was. Staring malevolently at him.

Harry sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

Fortunately, the girls were always with him. And they were watching his back.

He was almost sick with worry the day of the match. Nothing his friends could do cheered him up. When they told him they all intended to have their wands ready to react the moment anything happened, that only momentarily helped. Soon, he was right back to worrying his lip and staring blindly into space until one or another of the girls elbowed him lightly to get his attention.

Inevitably, he ended up wondering if Snape was going to curse him again.

To his intense relief, in the Quidditch locker room as he steeled himself up to get out on the pitch, he heard Fred Weasley cry out, as he peered outside, “Blimey — the Headmaster’s out there!”

Harry almost collapsed in relief.

Harry laughed out loud. He was safe — no way would Snape dare to do anything!

Snape looked furious that his plans had been thwarted, as the teams marched onto the field.

It was one of the shortest games in Hogwarts’ history. Everyone was amazed and surprised. The Hufflepuffs hadn’t even been mad about losing, they were so astonished. Even Professor Snape giving the Gryffindors unfair penalties hadn’t been able to make a difference, with a game that short.

The Gryffindor party was in full swing by the time he arrived after showering. Scootaloo and Ginny decided that, in view of the nice weather outside — that is, it wasn’t raining —they wanted to fly. It was still daylight and the tension they had lived with for days was gone. The two hurried out the door, already changing to ponies and galloping down the corridor.

Harry shook his head and turned back to the pumpkin juice punch, which he was sure he had seen the twins add something to earlier. He grabbed one of the butterbeer bottles instead. He also took another slice of cake. That, at least, the elves wouldn’t have let anyone tamper with while they were cooking.

۸-_-۸

114 — Hidden Trophy

It was just before dinner that the pegasi came back inside. They looked a bit upset, brows furrowed heavily as they looked around. The other Firstie animagi hurried over through the party as soon as they saw them. Harry was sure that if they had been in pony form, their ears would have been laid back in worry.

“What’s the matter,” asked Sweetie Belle, concerned.

The two looked around, then motioned the others to follow them. Down the corridor outside the Common Room they went to an unused room. They ducked inside and closed the door behind everyone.

Apple Bloom asked this time, “Okay, what’s goin’ on?”

The two exchanged looks, then Scootaloo said, “We were playing tag when I saw a hooded figure cutting across the lawn towards the Forbidden Forest.”

Harry exchanged looks with the others. That wasn’t ominous at all, was it?

“It was Snape . . . ,”

“Professor Snape,” said Hermione.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes and continued, “I saw him enough times coming into class to recognize the way his cloak swirled. But he had the hood up and he clearly didn’t want anyone to see or recognize him.

“I dove down as he ran into the forest. I got to tree-top height and tried to track ’em, but I couldn’t see ’em.” She paused dramatically. “But then I heard his voice!” She grinned, “Ponies have real good hearing. He had met someone!”

“Not just anyone, either, but Professor Quirrell!” Ginny put in excitedly.

She glanced around at her spell-bound audience.

“And it was him, too!” said Ginny. “We heard them, both. We were perched on a branch over their heads.” She snickered. “They never once looked up.”

“They were talking about the Philosopher’s Stone!” said Scootaloo, ignoring Ginny. “He specifically mentioned it!”

Hermione startled back, “Really? The Philosopher’s Stone?” She paused a moment, then said, “Yes!” excitedly, as she made a fist, bent her elbow so her fist pointed up, and pumped her arm in victory. “I knew it!”

“Or rather Snape threatened Professor Quirrell,” put in Ginny.

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo. “Snape wanted to know if Professor Quirrell could tell him how to get past Fluffy!” she said breathlessly. “And he asked about Professor Quirrell’s hocus-pocus, too.”

Hermione was too caught up in being right about the Philosopher’s Stone to notice Scootaloo hadn’t said Professor Snape.

“He threatened Quirrell several times, then left,” she continued. “The professor looked like he was scared, because he didn’t move for several minutes. Then he went back to the castle.”

“Once he was out of sight, we headed for here,” Ginny said.

“We thought we should tell you as soon as possible.”

It was a very thoughtful group of Firsties that walked into the Great Hall a bit later for dinner.

Maybe they should have a talk with Hagrid? Clearly, there were other protections on the Stone other than Fluffy — at least Professor Quirrell was involved. Hagrid might know if there were other professors involved, and who. And if they should be as worried as they were.

۸-~-۸

Albus had just settled back in his chair to think about what he had just reviewed in his pensieve when a voice came from his floo.

“Professor Dumbledore? Are you there?”

It was Sirius. And he sounded worried.

“Yes, Sirius?” he said in reply.

“May I come through? I found something . . . interesting”

The wizard had an . . . unusual tone in his voice.

“Certainly, my boy.”

Moments later, Sirius dropped a small bag on Dumbledore’s desk. He looked like he had had a rough day, so far, and didn’t expect it to end soon. “I’ve been cleaning up Twelve Grimmauld Place,” he said. “I hired someone to help me.” He stared at the bag as he slumped into the armchair across from Albus.

Albus leaned forward and picked up the acromantula-silk bag. He glanced at Sirius, who merely watched him tiredly. He carefully dropped the contents, a locket, into his hand. Albus could feel a faint taint of . . . corruption from the locket. He looked up at the other wizard, startled. He dropped the bag on the table and carefully placed the locket on it.

He leaned back. “How did you come by this?” he asked quietly.

Sirius sighed. “We were taking everything out of the curio cabinets in the drawing room . . . .”

۸-_-۸

Anne looked at the drawing room in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, hands on her hips. They had spent yesterday afternoon cleaning out the various creatures that had taken up residence in the room. Not a simple task given that many of them were magic-resistant to some degree. As a result, the room was somewhat worse for wear.

The floor rug had been a disaster when they had started, with numerous holes chewed in it by doxies. The collateral damage of the various scorch marks from getting rid of those doxies hadn’t improved it — spraying doxicide didn’t always get the little beasts. She had next thought that a good scourgify-ing charm would simply vanish the rug. No such luck. It just revealed how faded the rug was. And the holes got bigger. It now looked more like a badly-sewn net covering the floor.

The wooden floor underneath it wasn’t much of an improvement, either. The colour contrast between the portions formerly covered by the rug and the room’s perimeter where the rug had never reached was more than a little jarring. At the very least it would need to be sanded and refinished.

The walls, curtains, and furniture weren’t in any better shape.

It wasn’t a matter of what to keep and what to remove when they were finished cleaning. Everything not permanently glued down with a spell would be tossed. And even some of the spelled items, too.

The walls, at least, looked decent with all the caked dirt and dust removed. But the woodworms had gotten to them, and the worms hadn’t been kind. Getting them out had been headache inducing, on several levels. In any case, the walls would need to be replaced, as well. Walls that went crunch when you leaned against them did not inspire confidence in the structure underneath.

The wall covered by the tapestry of the Black Family tree, however, was in good condition by comparison. Apparently the preservative magic in the tapestry had discouraged the worst of the worms’ depredations. The tapestry, itself, was also in good condition, considering the holes blasted in it and that the edges had been gnawed on by something. Probably the doxies, again. It would never take pride of place — at least, not anymore — except as a worn record of the family.

“If this place were mine,” she said, for the hundredth time, “I’d just set it on fire and walk away.” She walked along the floor-to-ceiling wall-to-wall tapestry, closely examining it. It was a treasure-trove of information, and she was committing as much of it to memory as she could. It was so much more illuminating than the “official” books that traced the many important families in the wizarding world. The tapestry revealed relationships that the books considered of too little importance, especially with lesser families.

Family relationships were always important in a small town, as she well knew. And the wizarding world gave just that impression — it was a small town, and small town politics and attitudes were rampant. Newcomers were always viewed with suspicion.

So, knowing that some of the apples in the basket had worms was always an advantage when haggling. Especially if you thought the worms a benefit and the seller thought them a detriment.

She wondered if the chart could be duplicated on a new tapestry, revealing those who had been removed. There might be a few connections she could exploit more fully if she knew who those “traitors” were, and where their families were now. If the families were still around, they might make decent allies. If she did nothing, they could be unsuspected and hidden enemies.

Maybe she could sell the idea to Sirius as “revenge” on his family by bringing to the front their hidden connections to muggles, squibs, half-bloods, and blood-traitors. Sirius could “shame” the Black family’s reputation by showing they were not as “pure” as they pretended. Perhaps even bringing the blasted names back into the family, officially. His parents would spin in their graves at his “disrespect.”

She would lead him to the suggestion at lunch. She had a much better chance of success if he thought it was his idea. Perhaps she would only suggest that having his mother watch as these “rejects” paraded through her house with impunity would be a wonderful prank, today. Then, later, bring up the subject of refurbishing the family tapestry.

She looked over at him. He had a crooked smile on his face as he surveyed the room.

“The cabinets?” she suggested.

Glass-fronted curio cabinets stood on either side of the mantelpiece. They were stuffed with things like rusty daggers, animal claws (she shuddered), a coiled snakeskin, inscribed silver boxes tarnished with age, and dozens of other things.

He firmly nodded. “As I recall, some of those things are quite nasty, so let me take a look, first.” He shook his head wryly. “If you aren’t a Black or pure-blood, they liable to attack you.” He moved the rubbish bin to beside the mantle. It was his favourite bin. Sirius thought it funny that the bin made a show of swallowing whatever they threw in it, and then belched loudly. He almost always smiled as it did so. Infantile humour seemed to appeal to him.

When he reached inside the first cabinet, Sirius was immediately attacked by a silver snuffbox. Within seconds, his hand looked like he was wearing a brown glove. “It’s okay,” he said, casually, as he tapped it with his wand, instantly restoring his hand to normal, “probably Wartcap powder.”

They decided to check each item for damaging spells before picking them up.

An unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, tried to dodge her investigative spell. Sirius hit it with a blasting hex that reduced it to scrap. A musical box played a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound. They were becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Sirius slammed the lid shut.

“I remember that,” Sirius said. “Mom always brought it out when I was being difficult, as she said, about sleeping.” Anne examined the box carefully, opening and closing it several times until she understood the simple spell. Then she hit it with a powerful finite, and crushed the box, destroying the runes that powered the spell. A most useful little spell for parents, she decided, especially with more appropriate music for children.

Some of the parents in her Town would have appreciated such a sure-fire way of getting their little ones to conk out.

She could use it to begin building a name for herself.

Sirius called it “cleaning,” but Anne thought it was more like waging war. Assisted and supported by Kreacher, the house was a formidable opponent. The crazy house-elf kept trying to sneak anything he could that they discarded. Sirius futilely threatened to give him clothes, but Kreacher had called his bluff. “Master will not, Kreacher knows things, he does, and Master is too cowardly to mount his head on the wall of distinction . . . .” he had muttered loudly.

The mere idea that the elf thought that having his head cut off and mounted on the staircase wall was something of an achievement horrified her. And he was looking forward to it! And what was worse, previous masters of the household had thought it a fitting reward!

That convinced her, as nothing else had so far, that the humans and house-elves were insane by pony standards. For their own safety, they desperately needed some pony to keep watch over them.

Sirius had ordered the elf to his room for the rest of that day.

The rubbish bin now had an alarm on it to prevent the elf’s misappropriating anything undetected. As a result, afterwards, he had merely glowered and muttered at them from the edge of the door to whichever room they were working on.

۸-~-۸

The large, oval locket of heavy gold with a serpentine ‘S’ in green jewels on its front almost disappeared in a black cloud in response to Sirius’ spell. “Oh,” he said, not surprised. “That’s a dark one for sure,” he said dismissively, picking it up by the chain.

Intrigued, Starlight, smirked and cast one of the spells she knew from Equestria. And immediately started back-pedalling to the other side of the room. “Uh, Sirius? Put that down. Like, right NOW!” she said, alarmed.

Sirius looked at her questioningly, but did as she asked. “What’s wrong?” he said.

“It has a very powerful and dangerous magic in it,” she said as she stared at it intently. “Where I come from, just owning that vile thing would see you tossed in the dungeons.” She had heard rumours about the Alicorn Amulet. It looked innocent, but was a deadly and corrupting artefact. This appeared the same. Or, at least, the response to her spell was the same as the one that the amulet was supposed give.

He gave her an incredulous look, then focused back on the locket,

She quickly levitated the locket into the air and started surrounding it with spells. Then she hit it with another spell. There was a loud bang, and the locket bounced off a wall. “Okay,” she said shakily, wincing in pain at the sudden headache she had. “That should have crushed it.”

She lifted the locket, again. Surrounded it with the best reflective shield she could manage, then cast a flame spell inside the shield. Her headache got a lot worse with the strain.

They could feel the heat even though they were across the room from it. Oddly, Kreacher was beside them with a hopeful expression. Anne was sure she could feel her eyebrows beginning to smoke when the flame went out. Some of the room’s furnishings definitely were smoking. One of the armrest covers on the couch suddenly burst into flames. Sirius quickly put it out with an aguamenti charm.

Her flames’ cessation revealed a locket still held in her shield, glowing red-hot but with no visible damage. So, it was almost impossible to destroy, like the amulet, then.

“What is that?” Sirius asked, astounded at the locket surviving a heat that should easily have liquefied the trinket.

Anne was about to answer when she heard Kreacher, beside her, mumbling.

“Failed again. Failed again, Kreacher has failed Master Regulus again!” he mumbled despairingly, wringing his hands, distraught at the locket’s resistance. He started beating his head against the doorframe.

She turned to him. “What do you mean, you failed?”

The elf continued to bash his head against the doorframe.

Sirius, his attention drawn from the locket, watched curiously, frowning.

She asked again, “What do you mean, you failed Master Regulus?”

He continued to ignore her.

Sirius, on the other hand, took an intense interest in the elf. He rolled his eyes. “Kreacher!” he yelled, “Stop that and answer her! Truthfully!”

It took a while, almost an hour, to get the full story of Master Regulus, Kreacher, and the locket. It had started just after Regulus had joined the Dark Lord’s army. First, the Dark Lord had requested the use of Kreacher — which the Blacks deemed a great honour and was immediately granted. Then came Kreacher’s trip to the cave by the sea with the Dark Lord, with the black lake in it hiding Inferi, and the basin filled with a terrible potion that caused unrelenting despair and unbearable thirst. The Dark Lord had forced Kreacher to drink it, nearly killing him, and then the wizard had placed the locket in the empty basin. The Dark Lord had then left the house-elf to die, to be killed by the Inferi in the lake when he attempted to slake his thirst.

That should have been the end of Kreacher. But Master Regulus had ordered the elf to return at the completion of his task. And Kreacher was a good and obedient house-elf, so he had returned, even as the Inferi were dragging him into the dark water to kill him.

His Master had nursed him back to health — an unbelievable kindness for a lowly elf!

His Good Master Regulus had been disturbed by Kreacher’s tale, and had sworn to find the truth behind it. Then, days later, while Kreacher was still recovering, Good Master Regulus had taken him and returned to the cursed island in the underground lake. His final orders to Kreacher were to force Good Master to drink the potion until the locket could be retrieved. Kreacher was to substitute a fake locket for the real one, and then take the locket away and destroy it! Kreacher wasn’t to try to save his master, for his master was doomed. Good Master Regulus had said the Dark Lord would kill him for what he had done, and the Inferi were a better death than what the Dark Lord would mete out.

Kreacher had tried. Oh, how he had tried. But he couldn’t fulfil those final orders from Good Master Regulus. His efforts at failing to fulfil his orders, and the conflict of being unable to tell anyone or ask for help, had tormented the elf ever since.

By the end, Sirius was in tears and sitting on the floor.

“Regulus,” he sobbed repeatedly, matched almost perfectly by Kreacher sobbing, as well.

Anne shook herself. A dramatic and tragic story, without a doubt. One that would make even stone-hearted Princess Celestia cry. No wonder the house was in such shambles. The poor elf had been trapped in his orders to destroy something he couldn’t. And until he had completed those orders he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Plus, he had no one to confide in, no way to ask for help, and no way to explain himself. He could only punish himself for failing to do his duties.

The inability to obey his last orders, given to him by his loved Master, given at the point of death, had driven the elf mad.

She studied the locket. It was clearly nothing she could handle by herself. It held an essence of evil that corrupted those who wore it, she suspected. It was like the legendary Alicorn Amulet in that respect. Insidious and slow in action, but deadly in the term. Perhaps it was why this room had been so heavily occupied by dangerous and vicious creatures.

The only two Equestrians she knew who could definitely handle such a dangerous object were either Princess Sparkle or Princess Celestia. And she had her doubts about Sparkle. In any event, there was no way she was revealing herself to Princess Sparkle! Or Princess Celestia. Not for this trinket.

But they were on the other side of the portal. What was available on this side?

She waited for Sirius to calm down some, sitting on the floor beside him. It also gave the locket time to cool down, too.

Finally, she asked, “Do you have any ideas on how to destroy this?”

Sirius leaned his head back against the wall by the door. He sighed, emotionally exhausted, and wiped the tears from his face. He stared blankly for several moments, then said, “Dumbledore would know what to do.” He pushed himself to his feet, “And if he doesn’t, he knows who would.”

He took a deep breath. “Right. Let’s do this.” He walked over to where the locket still hung in her spell and studied it. “Is it safe to touch?”

She joined him a moment later. “It’s cool, now. And it should be okay to hold and touch, now that we know where it came from. Its damaging effects come from long-term close exposure.” She glanced at the house-elf. “He’s probably handled it many times, for hours on end, trying to destroy it.” She glanced up Sirius, “Which probably aggravated his despair at failing to carry-out his orders.”

She carried it in her magic as he headed for the front hall to get his traveling robes. She grabbed her own, and dropped the trinket into the silk bag he retrieved from a hall table. With a distasteful expression, he dropped it in his pocket. As he opened the door, she said to the house-elf, who had followed them, “We’re going to destroy the locket.” Kreacher swayed as he almost fainted. “Sirius will tell you what is going on when he returns,” she looked at the wizard. “Won’t you?”

He nodded absentmindedly. “We’ll go the Leaky Cauldron, first, and floo-call Professor Dumbledore. If he’s out of the office, we’ll just go to Hogwarts and find him. Schools in session, so he shouldn’t be that difficult to find.”

He stepped outside and she followed him. Behind them, she heard Kreacher close the door.

“I’ll meet you there,” he said.

“This is family business,” she said. “You don’t need me cluttering things up. And I don’t want to get involved in whatever that locket truly is.” She paused at his surprised expression. She smiled. “I’ll see you here tomorrow morning, right?”

“You sure?”

She nodded.

“Okay.” He apparated away, she teleported a moment later.

The charms on the house extended down the porch stairs to the sidewalk and prevented anyone from seeing or noticing their abrupt disappearances.

۸-_-۸

“. . . and, so, here I am,” he said tiredly.

“Voldemort, you say?” the Headmaster said softly, waving his wand over the locket. It lay, innocuous, on his desk.

Sirius nodded.

Albus studied the results of his spell. Definitely a horcrux, like the two they had already destroyed. And, like the other two, this horcrux bore the same magical signature. So, this, with the Gaunt ring, provided absolute proof that Riddle had destroyed his own soul in the pursuit of immortality. He now had two items he knew Riddle had possessed, and both were horcruxes. Or had been.

Plus, this one would either prove or disprove Princess Sparkle’s theory that five horcruxes had been made. But he would need her final assessment, just to be sure.

By his estimate of the two he had seen, this should be the third or fourth one created — probably the fourth — after the Peverell ring and Rowena Ravenclaw’s tirara, but before Harry. Which meant there should only be one left.

Hepzibah Smith, whose close friend had been one Tom Riddle, had been “poisoned” by her house-elf in 1953. Shortly thereafter, Riddle disappeared from his job at Borgin and Burkes. Later, her surviving relatives had reported being unable to find two of her treasures: Salazar Slytherin’s Locket and Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup.

And, now, here was Slytherin’s Locket. Confirmed as being in the possession of Voldemort. Confirmed as being made into a horcrux. Which meant the fate of the remaining item, Hufflepuff’s Cup, was that of a horcrux, as well.

He could not imagine Tom, having already defiled two priceless Hogwarts’ Founders’ artefacts, would hesitate to desecrate a third.

He shook his head, saddened at the loss of these irreplaceable antique treasures.

He wondered where Tom had hidden this last treasure. And if there were any that preceded the ring. How many had Tom planned to make? Had he been planning for the magic number seven? Or Nine? Albus thought seven was probably the goal. Nine wasn’t nearly as powerful as seven.

How many had he successfully created? There was only one person who might know.

He pulled a parchment out of his desk drawer and wrote a quick note. He looked up at his phoenix, “Fawkes? Could I impose upon you to deliver this to Princess Twilight Sparkle?” He held up the rolled parchment.

Fawkes looked at him, then the locket, and then launched himself off his perch. He snatched the scroll in his claws and a soft trill of joy filled the room as he flashed away in a burst of light.

Anyone else and Albus would have sent them on their way. Sirius would not so easily be dismissed. Especially when it was something from his home. It was his family’s, he would demand to know what was going to happen to it.

Sirius didn’t trust him as much as he used to. For good reason. If Albus wanted to rebuild the trust they used to have, he would have to be more open about what he was doing. After all, the young wizard wasn’t an impressionable young boy anymore.

And the old wizard needed his trust if they were going to work together to reform the laws in the Wizengamot. Failure there could be disastrous for wizardkind, not just him.

Albus smiled as the sound faded away. He looked up at Sirius. “I would like the Princess to see this before we destroy it,” he said, glancing at the locket. He opened his secret drawer and removed the wooden-case with the basilisk fang in its protective glass container.

“I don’t imagine we will have to wait long. She will come as soon as possible.”

They both sat quietly for a moment.

“So, my boy,” Albus turned his attention back to Sirius. “It sounds like your cleaning helper is quite an accomplished witch. Have you known her long?”

Sirius gave him a smirk. “Not that long, really. Do you remember that lunch we had in the Leaky Cauldron back at the beginning of February? The eighth?”

Albus nodded.

“Well, that’s when and where I met her . . . .”

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

I now have a Ko-fi account! Donate if you like this story, so far.

115 — Preparations

There was a bright flash of light in Professor Dumbledore’s Office in Hogwarts. A purple pony with both wings and a horn touched down lightly on the floor as Fawkes glided to his roost. The pony’s eyes immediately sought out the wizard’s desk, and the locket on it. The alicorn propped herself against his desk and carefully examined the item, her horn and it glowing faintly purple.

Princess Twilight sighed, at once both happy and saddened. “Yes, it’s another one. The fourth. It fits the curve perfectly.” She looked up at him.

Sirius was switching back and forth, watching them, eyebrows raised curiously.

The Headmaster nodded. “I thought so. The final one should be a small golden cup with two finely-wrought handles. It should have a badger engraved on the side, with gems for eyes.” He gestured with his wand and a book flew from his library. He flipped it open to the marked page. “Like this.”

The two leaned closer.

“Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup!” exclaimed Sirius, looking from the picture to the wizard. “The Founder’s Cup?”

Albus nodded regretfully. “Just as the locket, here, is Slytherin’s Locket,” he said, flipping to another page.

Sirius glanced between the picture and the locket several times. He fell back, and landed heavily into the chair behind him. He shook his head disbelievingly. “Hufflepuff’s Cup and Slytherin’s Locket,” he murmured.

Albus gently nodded, grimacing. “I haven’t a clue as to where the Cup could be hidden.”

Sirius looked at the locket and pointed. “And what is that . . . magic . . . on it?”

Albus sighed. “A terrible piece work that should never have been cast.” He sighed. “Far too dangerous to allow to exist.” He gave a deeper sigh. “And the only remedy is to destroy the locket.” He gazed sadly at it.

Sirius just stared at him.

He almost didn’t say more, but Twilight had a hard look with narrowed eyes as she stared at him. He sighed again. “Soul magic of the foulest kind. I fear Voldemort has trespassed into realms he should have ignored.”

“Soul magic? Foulest kind?” Sirius’ brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. He was obviously thinking deeply. His eyes abruptly shot wide-open and he sprang to his feet.

“Horcruxes!” he shouted, wild-eyed. “He actually made a horcrux?”

Albus looked at him, surprised. How had the wizard known of what he spoke?

Twilight turned to look at him. “He’s made five for sure,” she said calmly, “we’ve destroyed three, so far. One was the Gaunt family ring and the other Rowena Ravenclaw’s Tiara.”

Sirius stared at her aghast. Then collapsed bonelessly back into the armchair. “The daft idiot made horcruxes . . . horcruxes!” He shook his head disbelievingly and stared at the floor, thinking.

“You have heard of them?” Albus said cautiously.

“There’s a small book about them in the Black Library. Only a fool would create one. They change you.” Sirius shook his head.

He suddenly looked up, “Rowena Ravenclaw’s Tiara?”

It took another hour to bring him up to date on what they had discovered.

“Does he know when you destroy ones of these?”

Twilight and Albus exchanged glances.

“I don’t’ know. Potentially? Possibly? Probably?” Twilight said as she shrugged. “We don’t know for sure, but if he’s within a certain distance I would expect there to be some kind of sympathetic reaction.”

“We were more concerned with destroying the things as soon as we found them,” the Headmaster said. “That he might know when they are destroyed didn’t occur to us.”

“Perhaps we should do this in Equestria?” suggested Twilight.

“Taking it through the portal might create a wraith in Equestria,” suggested the Headmaster. “It did detect a certain animagi . . . ,” he said ruefully.

“Would the venom work the same in Equestria?” asked Sirius. “Or would it merely free the wraith?”

They lapsed into silence, thinking.

“Perhaps, if we were far enough away?” Albus proposed, glancing up at Fawkes.

Twilight looked up at the bird and shrugged. “Where would you suggest?” She paused, thinking, “New Zealand? The Auckland Islands?”

Albus’ eyes twinkled as he said, “There is a place in the Himalayas that might suit? It has some rather interesting charms protecting it that might also hide the locket’s destruction from detection.”

She momentarily glanced at Sirius, and shrugged. “One place is as good as another, as long as it is far enough away.” She hesitated. “Perhaps we should do this late at night, he might be less likely to notice if he’s resting.”

“Yes, that might be of assistance. If he’s possessing an animal or person, at the moment.”

Sirius made a wry expression, “And if he isn’t, we still don’t know that it will make a difference. But we really don’t have much in the way choices, now do we?”

Albus nodded and put the venom box back in his secret drawer. He turned and accio-ed a small box from his trinket shelf. He studied it carefully for a moment, then conjured a cushion inside it. Taking a quill, he quickly wrote a set of runes on each side of the box. Once that was done he floated the locket into the box and also placed it in his drawer.

As neither of them knew about the drawer, it was still safe under the fidelius. That it contained a horcrux and the remains of two others was incidental to the charm.

“Shall we meet in ten hours?” he suggested. “You can just floo-in, Sirius, and Princess Sparkle,” he looked at her, smiling, “perhaps you can ask your friend Philomena to bring you here? If she’s busy, I’ll ask Fawkes to do the honours.”

Twilight nodded. “While I’m here, do you mind if I drop in to see Lyra and Bon Bon? And visit with Harry if he’s not in class? I’d rather not impose upon Philomena or Fawkes more than absolutely necessary.” She glanced up at the bird and smiled.

Albus nodded, “That sounds delightful,” he said. He pulled a parchment from a drawer and wrote for a moment. “Here’s an excuse for Harry and the girls if your talk goes longer than you plan.”

“Oh! Thank you,” she said taking the parchment and placing it in her saddlebags.

He looked up at the wall with the Hogwarts map. “Bon Bon and Lyra,” he said. Two names on the map lit up. “Ah, they are in the library at present.” He gave Twilight a quick glance, then said, “Harry Potter.” Another spot on the map lit up. He nodded as a chart appeared beside the boy’s name. “And he is in Transfigurations right now, which lets out at one-fifty, then he is in Defence Against the Dark Arts until three.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said happily. She turned and trotted to the door, the handle glowing purple a moment as the door opened. They watched as the alicorn started to glide down the stairs.

۸-_-۸

“Mum!” Harry shouted gleefully when he saw her waiting for him outside the D.A.D.A. classroom. They hugged each other as the others gathered around them.

Harry leaned back, and asked, “What brings you here today?” His face clouded slightly. “Is there a problem?”

She laughed lightly. “Nonsense! Do I need a reason?”

He hugged her tightly again.

“But Headmaster Dumbledore did call me to check something for him. We have to do something late tonight, after you all are asleep, so I figured, as long as I was here . . . ,” She looked down at him and arched an eyebrow.

He grinned back up at her. Then grabbed her hand and started down the corridor, going in the opposite direction one would have expected. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll show you Gryffindor Tower! There’s this really neat shortcut.”

At the intersection, they turned and soon they were out of sight of the non-Gryffindors. He stopped in front of a pastoral painting. He smirked and looked at her. “Watch this!”

A moment later, he was in the painting, waving energetically. “That Book-walking spell is really useful!” his tinny voice cried.

His mum stood there, a poleaxed expression on her face. Then she grinned.

“This is amazing,” she said, standing beside him and looking around. They were quickly joined by the rest of the First Year Gryffindor cohort, who were laughing.

“Yeah!” he said enthusiastically, “and with the wizard paintings you can run from one painting to the next, even if they’re on different floors, like this!” He ran to the side where she could see a shadow.

It took less than a minute for them to pop out of a painting down the corridor from the Gryffindor Common Room. “Didn’t want to use the one in the Common Room,” Harry explained, “we would have been seen, and then everyone would know.”

“This is marvellous!” his mum said. “How far can they reach?”

“I don’t know, for sure. One of the paintings told us that one of the previous Headmasters has a painting in London and can easily travel between here and there.” He screwed up his face in thought, “That’s about . . . three hundred thousand celestials?”

She stopped dead in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. For a moment, she just stared. Finally, she said, “That’s farther than most ponies can teleport, and faster. And more convenient.”

“Yeah, but the paintings have to be linked, it’s a separate step.”

She looked at the group. “But with a wand, anypony could use it.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “Much more convenient than the floo-network. Not as simple as a telephone for communications. But for couriers . . . .”

Long used to his mum’s quirks, Harry and the fillies guided her through the Gryffindor painting entrance. The sudden attention of everyone in the Common Room broke her from her contemplations and brought her back to the moment.

To say Harry was proud to show his mum the Tower was an understatement. And the students in the Common Room were just as pleased to meet her. They had seen her several times, but never really very close. The older students took the opportunity to introduce themselves. Being able to name-drop that they had met Princess Sparkle could only help their careers.

Once she had had a good look around, they took over one corner and told her of the remarkable Quidditch game. And, in hushed whispers, told her of their discoveries regarding the Philosopher’s Stone.

“And we think Professor Snape is trying to steal the Stone,” Sweetie Belle concluded.

Her irritated expression was not what they had expected. “You don’t need to worry about the Stone,” she said, sweeping her narrowed eyes across the group.

They gulped, almost synchronized.

“Professor Snape is not after the Stone, and I’ve reviewed the protections. They are quite thorough.”

She stared at Harry and the fillies. “I don’t want you anywhere near that room or corridor. If you hear anything about the Stone or who wants to steal it, call for Philomenia, immediately! She’ll bring you to the castle. The wizard after the Stone is simply too powerful for you to handle, at all.”

They stared at her wide-eyed.

“Promise!” she ordered. “You’ll stay away from the Stone! And, you’ll contact me if you find out who is after it.”

Hermione looked crushed. Forbidden to solve a puzzle.

Harry and the fillies exchanged glances, then said, “We promise.”

She stared at them a moment, then firmly said, “Pinkie Promise.”

Harry leaned back a bit. His mum never asked for a Pinkie Promise! The others exchanged surprised and alarmed looks. They remembered the last time they had heard that promise.

Somewhat unsteadily, the four said, “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

Under his mum’s steady stare, the other Gryffindors also promised.

She grinned happily and hugged Harry again.

Waiting barely a moment, she then reached into her purse and withdrew a small bag. “Almost forgot,” she said. “Here are those things you wanted me to make for your herd-mates.” She smirked at the last word.

The previous seriousness already forgotten — they were only Firsties, after all — Harry eagerly grabbed the bag and opened it. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “Was it hard to do?”

“Naw,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “You showed me the spells you were using and the book was a big help. Didn’t take more than an hour or so. The hardest part was getting the rings made, actually. It took a ridiculous amount of time for them to be delivered.”

“Oh, boy!” he said excitedly. He poured the contents onto the table. He was surprised at the mound of jewellery there. Recovering quickly, he pushed a ring to each of the fillies. “These are for you guys, they’ll detect any dangerous potions or spells in your food or things someone is trying to give you,” he explained. He handed another two to Hermione and Ginny. “That way we’ll never have to worry about potioned candy or spelled owl-mail hurtin’ us. I want to keep you guys safe.”

The rings were gold bands with six diamonds spaced around them.

“Put them on your index finger,” his mum instructed. “That way they’ll appear on your pastern bone when you’re ponies. Don’t worry about fit, they’ll resize when you put them on, and resize themselves as you grow.”

Hermione and Ginny moved slowly and placed them on their left hands, then held their hands at arm’s length to admire the new jewellery. The fillies watched, then followed the two witches’ example, and quickly put them on. All of them admired their new rings, as the rest of the Firstie-cohort oohed and ahhed around them

“Just hold the ring close to whatever it is you want to check. If there’s anything that could harm you, or with harmful intent, the ring will get warm and vibrate. And the diamonds will shine a bit brighter.” She sighed. “Couldn’t avoid that, the detection runes are on the ring and the diamonds drive them.”

He looked at the other rings still on the table — a good handful — then looked up at his mum.

She grinned and ruffled his hair. “I thought your other friends might like some protection, too.” She added with a smirk, “And not just your herd-mates.”

Harry blushed. “Muuumm!”

Neville looked down at the rings with an amazed expression. Then he looked back up at Twilight. “I can’t accept a gift like this without speaking with my Gran.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “You’re a friend of Harry’s and the fillies. And if what Percy said is true, then you need protection, too.” She stopped and considered, her smile getting a bit bigger. “I know. You can pay a bit, a galleon, and buy them, if you want. Just give it to Harry later. How’s that?” She tilted her head questioningly. “That way, no one can say you are beholden to him, if that’s a concern.”

She smirked. “And if you want to keep it a secret,” she took out her wand and tapped the pile of rings. “Now, when you put it on, no one will notice it.” She looked at the five girls, who all shook their heads, no.

Ah. Harry hadn’t thought of that. Some of the Canterlot nobles were rather tricky that way, his mum had told him. There were some who viewed gifts as an obligation. He looked critically at the rings. Yes. Those probably would be expensive if someone had purchased them in a market. That his mum had made them simply made them precious to him.

Neville slowly nodded and picked up one ring looking at it.

Ginny reached over and grabbed a ring, handing it to Ron. “You’re my brother,” she said. “You’re getting one,” she added, firmly, in a no-nonsense tone.

Reluctantly, he took it.

Ginny grabbed the remaining rings off the table and began handing them out, stating clearly, “You’re our friends and we want you safe, so there aren’t any obligations. Right? And if you’re worried, just pay Harry a galleon.”

At dinner, in the evening, Harry noticed the sudden surge of interest around their end of the table at the new rings the girls were wearing. And the looks he garnered as the one who supplied them. He tried to ignore the attention and focused on his mum and eating. The girls were not reluctant to show off their new rings and how they were supposed to work. The twins were nice enough to provide a quick test with a piece of candy they left near their brother.

His mum thought it highly amusing.

The rest of the evening passed quickly as their friends shared stories with his mum. Homework could wait to another day, as, how often did you get to tell a princess about your family? Or hear her tell you about her adventures?

Far too soon, it seemed, they headed off to their beds.

۸-_-۸

Things quickly settled into the rut they had been in before the hols. Fortunately, out of sight meant out of mind, and the three fillies were more focused on magic than they were in finding their cutie marks. That the professors had upped the assignment load was also a factor.

Thank Celestia for small favours!

On an odd note, Hermione and Ginny seemed a lot more touchy-feely than they had been. It looked like the Valentine’s Day effect hadn’t worn off as he had thought it might. And the other girls in the school seemed to ignore him in equal measure, although a few looked at him mournfully. It was all a mystery to him.

The rings, though, were a big hit, he was relieved to see. All five girls took great delight in showing them off. Well, because it made them safer, he was all for it. The more people knew that he had given them rings against manipulation, the less he had to worry about. That his other friends had protection, albeit hidden from sight, was just a bonus.

In the meantime, Sweetie Belle and Neville continued to liven up potions class, to everyone’s dismay. Neville went through a period where one week he exploded his cauldron, the next week he melted it, and the third week it shattered like glass. While he lost points, the Gryffindors appreciated his efforts in that they had derailed Sweetie Belle’s potioneering efforts.

She still managed to get them to burp bubbles in their house colours. And while they didn’t fart rainbows, the brightly-coloured gases sure did signal who was at fault.

The Bubble Head charms should have prevented those incidents. But all they could guess was that the fumes from her portions permeated the classroom. As a result, when people left the class and dismissed the charms, they breathed in the residual fumes on their clothes.

Meanwhile, Professor Quirrell seemed to be getting paler and thinner. And Professor Snape seemed to pay him an inordinate amount of attention. It really did look as if Snape was pressuring the D.A.D.A. professor to do something. But it didn’t look as though the stuttering professor had given in, yet.

While they knew Hermione was obsessed with studying, it was only when she started drawing up study schedules and color-coding all her notes that Harry realized that she really was just like his mum. And, like his mum, she insisted that they all follow her lead in preparing for finals. “Exams,” she said, “are only ten weeks away!”

Ron’s objections were quickly shot down when she said, “That’s right! Only ten weeks! I should have started studying weeks ago! If we want to come back for second year, we have to pass these exams.” She continued ranting for several minutes, calling the mere idea of not studying, crazy.

Harry didn’t think it made that much of a difference however much they studied. With Book-walking, memorizing and understanding the theory behind magic wasn’t all that difficult. Even in potions, where knowing every step was critical, Book-walking reduced study time.

Now the professors seemed to concentrate their essays more on how to use what they had learned, rather than on just on what they knew. And that meant they had to study in more detail.

Thus it was they were in the library instead of their common room. They were digging deeper for books that had more information than their textbooks, rather than simply the same but in different words. Simply revising what they already had at hand would no longer suffice for a good grade.

Seeing Hagrid walk by was more than a small clue that something was up. The half-giant never showed his face in the library. That he was obviously trying to hide something behind his back was another clue that something was up.

He should have just shoved it in one of his moleskin overcoat’s pockets, Harry thought.

The three fillies were quick to notice.

“Hagrid!” they cried delightedly. “What brings you here?”

He looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Jes’ doin’ some research,” he said uncomfortably, his eyes shifting around evasively.

“Oooh! Is that a book on dragons,” exclaimed Scootaloo, dodging behind him as other two ran in front of him.

“Are you thinking of raising a dragon?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“Eggs are really hard to find,” added Apple Bloom.

“Mum might be able to help you,” said Harry, looking at the book Hagrid was hurriedly stuffing inside his coat.

“Shhhh!” Hagrid looked around quickly. He gave a sick smile to Madam Pince, who was staring at him disapprovingly. “Don’ go shoutin’ in the library, what’s the matter with yeh?”

“Isn’t that against the law?” half-whispered Hermione, frowning.

“Uh-huh,” whispered Ron, “Dragon breeding is illegal. Muggles notice when there’s a thirty-foot tall dragon in the back garden, you know! Beside, you can’t tame dragons. You should see Charlie’s burns from the ones in Romania.”

“What?” said Harry. “What do you mean taming dragons?” he hissed softly. “They’re ponies . . . people! Beside, Spike would never hurt anyone unless you attacked him. Only somepony really stupid would do that, anyway.” He looked over at Ron. “And your brother wouldn’t have been hurt if he had explained what he wanted to do.”

Ron looked at him like he was barmy. He got up and went off into the shelving, and returned a moment later with some books. He dropped them on the table. “Here,” he said, “read these.” Harry and the fillies stared at the books: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland and From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper’s Guide.

Hagrid huffed and looked around, again. The half-giant was as subtle as a bludger to the head. “Come an’ see me later,” he muttered in not-quite a shout.

He was the opposite of Fluttershy in that what he thought was a normal tone came out double the volume of a normal person.

“I ain’t saying I’ll tell yeh anythin’, mind, but don’ go rabbitin’ about it in here.” He glanced around again. “I’m keepin’ it a secret, yeh know.”

“Later, then,” Harry said.

Hermione had already disappeared inside the book on English dragons, and Sweetie Belle was inside the other.

Hagrid, doing a poor job of looking like he wasn’t doing something he shouldn’t, shuffled off.

An hour later, with a few more dragon books on the table and a lot of Book-walking, Harry looked at Ron and the witches with wide eyes. “They’re . . . they’re . . . mindless beasts?” The three fillies had the same shocked expressions. Ron and Neville nodded.

“Dumbledore did say that Spike was inordinately well-spoken for a dragon, but he didn’t say they weren’t intelligent!” added Sweetie Belle in a shaken voice.

Just as shaken, Apple Bloom added, “George said they were dumb as bricks. I thought he was exaggerating ’cause he says the same thing about Crabbe and Goyle.”

“If they were smart, we could just tell ’em to stay hidden. Instead the Ministry has to keep putting spells on muggles who’ve spotted them, to make them forget,” responded Ron.

۸-~-۸

That afternoon, they discovered that Hagrid had gotten his hands on a dragon-egg. Harry just stared at the black egg. It wasn’t as big as Spike’s egg had been, if mum was right about its size from all those years ago. But, then again, he was a human right now, and she had been a filly then, so being so much taller made things look smaller, maybe? Perhaps it was the same size?

“ ’Cor,” said Ron. He leaned over the fire for a closer look. “It must’ve cost a fortune!”

Hagrid nervously fiddled with his beard, “Well — er . . . well I won it, didn’t I? Had a game o’ cards down in Hogsmeade las’ night. There were a stranger in it, and he put up the egg as bet. He looked a bit relieved when he lost. He weren’t unhappy to lose, I think, ter be honest.”

“But what about when it’s hatched? What are you going to do with it?” said Hermione, reasonably.

Hagrid grinned. He pulled the book from the library out from under his pillow “I’ve bin readin’,” he said proudly. “Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit,” he brandished the book. “Bit outta date.” He smirked. “But it’s all in here.” Then he explained how he intended to keep it warm, and what he wanted to feed it. He even claimed it was a rare Norwegian Ridgeback.

Hagrid looked delighted with himself, but Hermione and the fillies didn’t.

She and the fillies exchanged glances. “Hagrid,” she said, “you live in a wooden house.” The fillies nodded. They knew all about freely burning flames inside flammable structures. It was why the Town Hall, and several other structures, now had an indoor sprinkler system. Applejack even had a set in the homestead, cow, and hay barns.

They had learned a lot about plumbing while they were installing them as the hay-barn was being rebuilt, though. As punishments, that one had been kinda fun. And wet. But no cutie marks, unfortunately.

Ron and Harry just shrugged. It wasn’t their problem.

Hagrid ignored their comments about how dangerous a baby dragon was. Not even Harry’s stories that his mum had told him about the fires caused by Spike in Canterlot Castle — which was mostly stone — could convince him there would be problems. Harry wasn’t quite so sure about the hut’s chances of surviving such an incident intact.

Besides, the fireplace fire, if what mum had told him was correct, probably wouldn’t work very well. It didn’t have any magic in it like a dragon-mother’s flames would. Spike’s egg had hatched only because of the tremendous heat and magic her flare had produced.

Then Harry noticed that Hagrid’s wand was on the table, the tip suspiciously pointed at the fire.

Oh.

Well, at least if the dragon was with Hagrid, Harry didn’t have to worry about being set on fire in the corridors when the baby dragon was being walked and decided a good belch would make it feel better after eating.

There was still one maid in the castle in Canterlot who ran whenever she heard Spike’s claws hitting the floor, or she saw him. Harry had even seen her dive out an open second floor window, once. And she wasn’t even a pegasus.

She was quite good at clinging to the side of the castle, he had been told later. She even carried a rope, grappling hook, and pitons under her uniform.

Hermione — she couldn’t leave a puzzle alone — was quite pleased to find out that the Stone — and Hagrid had admitted it was the Philosopher’s Stone — was being guarded by more than just Fluffy.

That two of the professors tasked with the chore were Snape and Quirrell was not so pleasing.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry interrupted. “We Pinkie Promised, remember? We’ll just tell a professor if anything happens.” And send a letter to his mum to make sure she knew of this.

He just shrugged as they looked at him. He had friends. He had family. He was rather happy with the status quo, and didn’t want any changes.

Stupid wizards. Always interfering in what he wanted to do.

Still. He had friends, unlike before. He smiled happily.

۸-~-۸

116 — Hidings Things

It was only two weeks later that Hedwyg brought Harry a note at breakfast from Hagrid — It’s hatching. Unfortunately, Hermione insisted they go to their Herbology class first. “Seven of us skivvying off to go to Hagrid’s hut would be rather obvious,” she had explained as they left the Great Hall. “We can check in before Charms. And again during lunch.”

“But we’ll miss it hatching,” Ron hissed as they headed to class. He really wanted to see a dragon egg hatch.

Harry wasn’t nearly as impatient. He didn’t want to take a chance and find himself turned into a cactus. Or into a twenty-yard tall lizard. Or for that to happen to any of the girls. He was sure that the wizards were not as forgiving to the perpetrators as Princess Celestia about things like that.

Regrettably, Parkinson and Malfoy overheard Ron. They stopped walking ahead of them, ducked out of the stream of students to fake a quick private conversation, and then started following the Gryffindors, trying to listen for more.

“Shut up,” hissed Harry, but he thought it was a case of closing the bedroom door after the Cutie Mark Crusaders had already escaped.

After a quickly gobbled lunch, they hurried to Hagrid’s hut, while dragging a protesting Ron. “I haven’t finished eating,” he protested, to no avail. He grabbed a plate of sandwiches as they left the table.

They arrived into the inhumanly hot hut just in time. No sooner had they gathered around the rocking egg, now on the table with numerous cracks, than the egg started to come apart.

The baby dragon looked like a crumpled, black umbrella with huge spiny wings and a skinny jet body; it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes. It looked nothing like Spike.

Hagrid, naturally, proudly said, “He’s beautiful!” Sweat drenching their clothes, they looked at him as if he were barmy.

Harry looked at it critically. He hoped Spike hadn’t looked that awful when he was born. Although, he was almost as big as Spike was now. Ah, it was the wings! The baby dragon was slowly expanding and stretching them. And his lungs were inflating with air.

The egg had been quite an uncomfortable and tight fit, it seemed.

It sneezed sparks out of its snout as Hagrid reached to stroke it. Naturally, it snapped at his fingers, displaying an alarming set of needle like teeth. Harry wondered if the dragons here ate gems, too.

Hagrid had been right. It was looking more like a Norwegian Ridgeback every second.

They warily examined the vicious little beast for several minutes. Hagrid suddenly leapt to his feet and ran to the curtained window. He stared for several moments, turning his head back and forth. “Someone was lookin’ through the gap in the curtains,” he cried.

Several of them bolted for the doors, and Scootaloo and Ginny shot out the door on wings. But it was too late. The two fleeing students had too much of a head start and managed to make it to castle doors, and inside, before the two pegasi could catch them. However, they got close enough to see that the two were wearing Slytherin robes. Harry had a fair idea who they might have been.

They worriedly discussed the matter on the way back to the castle.

“We should tell Headmaster Dumbledore,” Hermione insisted. “If Hagrid tells him now, then if someone tries to get him in trouble, he’ll be covered.”

“I don’t know,” Sweetie Belle said, shaking her head doubtfully. “He doesn’t seem to be all there, sometimes.”

“Yeah,” agreed Harry. “It wasn’t actually a smart idea to send the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs to the dungeons when the Troll was supposed to be in the dungeons, last Halloween.”

The others nodded in agreement.

Knowing the Slytherins, it wouldn’t be long before they tried to use the secret to their advantage. And to Hagrid’s detriment.

The idea of raising a dragon, though, was brilliant! His mum and Spike would be thrilled to see in the pensieve what raising a dragon on this side of the portal was like. However, the trouble if Hagrid was caught was not as wonderful to think about.

Unfortunately, Hagrid was having none of it when they talked the next day. “I — I can’t jus’ abandon him, can’t.” He shook his massive head.“I know I can’t keep ’em forever,” He looked quite despondent at the possibility. “but he’d never survive on his own. Not right now.”

The half-giant was willing to risk everything to keep his dragon. The numerous chicken feathers and empty brandy bottles littering the hut proved that. As did the fact that Hagrid hadn’t been doing his gamekeeping duties because he was so busy with Norbert. The dragon was already bigger than pony, and it had only been a day. At the rate it was growing it wouldn’t fit in Hagrid’s hut in two weeks.

And Norbert showed almost no interest in the few gems Harry tried to give him, although Hagrid did give him a puzzled look.

“Wait,” Harry said, “Your brother,” he turned to Ron and Ginny, “Charlie, works at a dragon preserve in Romania, right?” They nodded hesitantly.

“How about writing him? That would give Norbert a good home, if he agreed. They could pick him up!”

Scootaloo started to get excited. “And if he says they’ll take him, then we can carry him to meet them!”

“It’ll have to be late at night,” Ginny said, “Or we’ll be seen.”

“Pshaw,” she said disparagingly. “We can use Harry’s invisibility cloak to get out of and back in the dorms, right?” She looked at Harry. “Nobody’ll see us. We can even put the cloak over the dragon.”

Harry wasn’t too happy at the suggestion, he could just see the dragon burning up his father’s invisibility cloak with a sneeze.

“It’s the perfect plan! Cutie Mark Crusader Dragon Smugglers, YEAH!” Scootaloo jumped up and slapped hands with Ginny.

“And, in the meantime, we can be Cutie Mark Crusader Dragon Sitters!” Apple Bloom cried, looking at Sweetie Belle. “YEAH!” they yelled, also slapping hands.

Ron and Hermione looked at them as if they were crazy. Harry stoically shook his head.

Considering some of the schemes the three had come up with over the previous two years, this one was pretty straightforward. But it all depended on the Slytherins being quiet. Something Harry, and most of the others of the cohort, were convinced couldn’t happen.

But if it helped Hagrid keep his job, then it would be worth it.

And if Charlie couldn’t help them? They would tell the Headmaster. Surely he wouldn’t punish the half-giant too severely.

۸-~-۸

It was nearly a miracle that the Slytherins kept silent during the week it took for an answer to the group’s letter. Were the two just revelling in the thought that they were tormenting the Gryffindors by doing nothing? It seemed so, from the manners in which Draco and Pansy smirked at them with malicious grins whenever they caught the Gryffindors looking at them. And the way they kept looking at Hagrid at the Headmaster’s table during dinner and snickering.

In any case, their relief that Charlie was sending some friends to get Norbert was almost palpable. All they had to do was wait until the next Saturday.

And in direct proportion to their elation was Hagrid’s dejection.

Norbert, however didn’t seem to care, from the daily carnage they saw, after classes, while they “babysat” the dragon in Hagrid’s hut. Fang had taken to sleeping outside. And his furniture seemed to be sporting quite a few scorch marks.

۸-~-۸

Hagrid sobbed, “Mommy will never forget you!” as they covered the crate with the Invisibility Cloak.

Ron shook his head. “He’s lost his marbles, he has,” he muttered under his breath to Harry.

The feather-weight charm, and the acromantula ropes, made it a simple matter for the two pegasi to heft the crate and fly up to the top of the Astronomy tower. The quarter moon wasn’t very bright, but it made it possible to see the two flying groups meet. Harry hoped he would still have an invisibility cloak by the morning.

Much later than they had expected, the two were back. The group of ponies began to cross the lawn to the Gryffindor tower. They were ponies because they would be harder to see in the dark. Even with their bright colours, the moonlight wasn’t enough to make them more than lighter and darker greys. Not to mention that being smaller made them that much more difficult to spot.

“What took so long?” hissed Hermione, “we thought something had gone wrong!”

“They,” Scootaloo excitedly told them, “had a special harness to carry Norbert! They transport injured and small dragons all the time.” Ginny nodded eagerly. “They were real happy to see we already had him in a secure crate,” she continued.

“Boy,” said Ginny, “were they surprised to see us as pegasi, too. They thought we’d be on brooms. Two almost fell off their broomsticks when we had changed back to witches.” She danced on her hooves happily. The rest discovered that the subsequent conversations, and demonstrations, had taken most of the two’s time on the tower top.

Almost as an afterthought, the dragon handlers had complimented them on using a feather-weight charm to make their job easier.

Alas, the plan to sneak back into the dormitory through the windows didn’t work. Someone had actually re-locked the windows in the boy’s section! And the alarms on the Girls’ Dorm windows prevented the boys from using that particular point of access.

Thus it was that Ron and Harry were slowly making their way to a convenient painting near the main doors when Filch, turning a corner, walked right into them. Well, not exactly. He tripped over the two ponies, accidentally knocking the cloak loose at the same time.

Harry and Ron transformed into people. While they could have out-run the squib, there were very few ponies in the school, and their colours would have given them away, immediately, anyway. And Harry would never abandon a friend by simply teleporting away to leave him to face the consequences. Not that he knew for certain he could.

As the three scrambled to their feet, Harry used Ron as a screen to stuff his cloak into a pocket. He didn’t think Filch even noticed that they had been ponies. If the professors knew, rather than suspected, that they had used their animagi forms, the punishments would be worse.

Filch took them to Professor McGonagall’s study on the first floor, and left them there as he went to find her.

“Aw, man, mom’s gonna kill me,” Ron moaned. “I’m gonna get a howler, for sure.” He hung his head down.

Harry frantically tried to think of a good reason why they were out of bounds this late at night without getting Hagrid, Charlie, and his friends in trouble, too. Absolutely nothing came to mind.

When Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, finally arrived, she was leading both Draco and Pansy, to the two Gryffindors’ astonishment.

“Detention!” she was shouting as they came in. “Twenty points, each, from Slytherin! Out after curfew —”]

“But, Professor,” Malfoy insisted, “it’s Harry Potter — he’s got a dragon!”

Pansy was nodding her head a bit fearfully.

“Utter rubbish! How dare you persist in such lies! We shall see what Professor Snape has to say, Mister Malfoy!”

Pansy shrank back, clearly hoping to avoid further scrutiny.

Both their eyes lit-up on seeing who was in the room waiting for them.

“See, Professor!” cried Draco, pointing at the two Gryffindors, “I told you!”

Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head. But Professor McGonagall was incensed to see them waiting for her. She stalked over and towered over them. Harry fancied he could see her about to breathe fire.

Mr. Filch was quick to explain where he found them, coming in from outside.

“Explain yourselves,” she demanded angrily. “I would never have believed it of you!”

Harry and Ron were speechless. Draco and Pansy both smirked behind McGonagall’s back.

Somehow, the Professor came to the conclusion that they had tried to trap Draco into being caught out of bounds, just as he had tried to do to them at the beginning of the year. And that they had snuck out to see the action.

She stood, hands on her hips. “I’m disgusted. That you two would do such a thing.” She pursed her lips angrily. “You’ll all receive detentions!” She turned her head to look at the Slytherins. “That means you two, too!”

Their smiles disappeared.

“And,” she turned back to Ron and Harry, “as the instigators of this farce, you two will lose seventy points from Gryffindor.”

She turned her head to the two Slytherins, “And you two lose twenty points, each, for being so gullible! You know Ron’s brothers, you should know better! Letting a petty rivalry get so out of hand.” She shook her head in disgust.

“Seventy?” squeaked Ron as Harry gasped.

“Each!” the Professor proclaimed.

“Mr. Filch, if you please,” she said frostily, “Escort these two Slytherins back to their dorm.”

Filch, standing outside the door and grinning madly, nodded.

“And I will take these two . . . miscreants, back to Gryffindor.”

She reprimanded them the entire way.

۸-_-۸

The fillies were anxiously waiting when the two came in through the entrance. However, Professor McGonagall’s concluding loud admonishment that, “Don’t you ever do that again! If you do, the point loss will be DOUBLE!” had them cowering behind the furniture, trying to stay out of sight.

It took a few minutes for Ron and Harry to explain. The two had to wait until the ringing in their ears had stopped before they could hear the questions to answer.

If Professor McGonagall ever sent a howler, it would bring down the walls!

After hearing what had happened, the ponies later consoled themselves with the thought that they had, at least, ensured a good life for Norbert, and saved Hagrid his home and job.

On the other hoof, they had plummeted to last place in House points. There was no way they could regain those points through classwork, alone. And they would have to trounce Ravenclaw by a large margin to regain their lead. Assuming there were no more point losses. Which, given Professor Snape’s attitude towards Gryffindors, was highly unlikely, even if he wasn’t anywhere as severe as he had been at the beginning of the year.

The next morning, the story quickly made the rounds and Harry dropped from being the most popular and admired person in Gryffindor to the most hated. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, too, because they had been hoping to see Slytherin lose the House Cup. Ron was just as much a pariah, but Harry received most of the anger, as he had let them down the most.

The Slytherins mockingly went around applauding him and praising him for putting them in the House-point lead. The mocking was in inverse proportion to how much they had liked him before the debacle. Or thought him a valuable career contact.

The Gryffindor Firstie animagi, however, knew the truth. They might not like the point loss, but it was for a good cause, and took great bravery, in their opinion. They quickly closed ranks around Harry. And Harry learned a valuable lesson on just who his true friends were. And how fickle wizards and witches were in their opinions.

It made him want to curse them. Seriously curse them, not just prank. But he held off. He wasn’t that kind of pony. He would seek other avenues of revenge.

۸-~-۸

Elly was very confused. She thought she had mapped out quite accurately the various interactions between the students, their Houses, and their friends. Doing that was critical for an infiltrator to maximize harvesting food.

How could she have messed up?

The Equestrians’ herd-stallion getting in trouble shouldn’t have made that much of a change. Even getting in big trouble, which he had, according to her friends in Hufflepuff, shouldn’t have changed attitudes that far!

He and his friend Ron had somehow managed to lose seventy points, each, in one night. A Hogwarts record, according to a Ravenclaw friend. They had gone from lead to last. Not even a Quidditch victory could have helped them recover, not unless it was ridiculously lopsided. Which wasn’t likely given their last game would be with the Ravenclaws, not exactly a bunch of pushovers.

There were rumours that a dragon — a dragon! — was involved and Hagrid was a part of it.

But those were rumours. No one really knew the truth except the ones concerned, and they were tight-lipped about it.

The dynamics in the whole castle had changed, overnight. Students who used to look on the Gryffindor Firsties with fondness now disliked them. Even when they were ponies, now, there were a fair number who avoided them.

Which really didn’t make any sense at all. Unless these wizards and witches were very much unlike the ponies. And while ponies were fickle, according to her instructors, friendships tended to win out in the long run.

The anger levels were so pervasive that her food gathering had fallen to merely maintaining her levels, even backsliding a tiny bit.

Anxious, she decided to check on her hidden reserves. Which were just fine, she was relieved to see. But that reminded her of the Mirror of Erised.

Had anything changed with these new circumstances? Maybe she should check?

It was a late Sunday night that she used to investigate. She made sure to bring along her notes for easy comparison.

The room was unchanged. To all appearances, no one had been here since the last time she had explored it. She carefully scouted the edges, circling the room, looking for any indications of a trap or alerts. It was only after an hour’s examination, including the ceiling, that she finally approached the mirror.

Unlike virtually every other time she had looked in the mirror, this time nothing appeared except herself! And she appeared as a student, not as a ling? What was going on?

She walked around the mirror, examining its frame closely. There were no marks, no additions, no subtractions that she could detect. It appeared exactly as it had before. Except, perhaps, a bit of dust on the top surfaces.

She turned her attention to the mirror, itself. With her eyes almost touching the mirror, she carefully inspected the edges where it disappeared into the frame. While she could see faint markings that might have been runes, she had the impression that they had always been there. Her magic, at least, couldn’t detect any recent alterations.

Finally, she settled back and just studied herself in the mirror. As a few minutes before, there wasn’t any definite background, just a formless grey. She stood in the middle of the mirror, as if in a spotlight, but there were no shadows.

The Elly in the mirror covered her mouth with a hand as she giggled.

But no additional people appeared. No lings. No ponies.

What could this mean? Had she lost all her desires? That made no sense. She still wanted a Hive, she still wanted lings and nymphs.

Frowning, she stared at the mirror.

Staring back, mirror-Elly reached into a pocket and pulled out a reddish rock. She held it up, laughing, then dropped it back in her pocket. She then waggled her eyebrows, still laughing.

Elly stood stock still. There was something in her pocket. It hadn’t been there a second ago.

Moving slowly, she reached into her pocket and took out the rock that had been in the mirror. She stared at it, uncomprehending. It was a deep red, almost like a gem in that it was translucent, except it had no symmetry or fine cuts as a gem did. She then looked back into the mirror at her laughing self.

She broke out into a cold sweat — and wasn’t that a strange feeling!

Elly dropped the stone back into her pocket. “Return to the mirror, return to the mirror,” she frantically whispered. Nothing happened.

Her mirror-self was laughing harder, clutching at her stomach.

The changeling shivered, and tried again. She gripped her wand desperately, “Return to the mirror, return to the mirror,” she chanted. Still nothing changed. The rock remained heavy in her pocket.

The Elly in the mirror was now doubled over laughing, and having difficulties in standing as a result.

She pointed her wand at herself in the mirror. “Return to the mirror, return to the mirror,” she said frantically, her eyes screwed shut, as she tried to will the stone back into the mirror. But nothing happened except she started to develop a headache. She slowly opened her eyes, squinting at the mirror.

The image had begun to blur. All her features started to become indistinct.

Had she broken the mirror? Oh, Mother-queen! What if someone realized it wasn’t working anymore? They would be furious! If they found her here she would be in so much trouble. The Headmaster would surely unmask her.

Elly glanced around the room, panicked. Nothing to see.

She glanced back at the mirror. It wasn’t any clearer. If anything, it was less.

She took a deep breath. She had to escape before the Headmaster came and found her.

She ran to the exit stone post and frantically kicked it five times. She had to hurry! The Headmaster could be on his way here right now. For a moment she thought nothing was going to happen.

She almost sobbed in relief when the trapdoor dropped her through the floor.

Elly carefully checked the corridor before hurriedly sneaking out of the hidden room. The sooner she was under her bed, the safer she would be.

Making her way back to her dorm was nerve-wracking. She kept expecting to have the Headmaster pop up in front of her and demand to know what she had done to break his mirror. But he didn’t. And neither did anyone else. She didn’t hear or see either Mr. Filch or his cat.

Making it into the Common Room was a tremendous relief, but she knew she wouldn’t feel safe until she was under her bed. She buried the rock in the bottom of her trunk, after encasing it in a globe of green-resin. She hoped the goop blocked enough magic to prevent anyone from tracking it to her.

She dragged the blankets and sheets off the bed and scurried under the bed-frame, quickly arranging a nest-hole, plugging the entrance with a pillow. Only then did she start to calm down.

She wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, she knew. She hoped tomorrow would not bring any unpleasant surprises.

۸-~-۸

Exams were less than a week away when Harry and Ron received notes at the breakfast table on Tuesday morning: they were to report for detention that night with Mr. Filch, at eleven o’clock at night.

They exchanged glances. A detention so late at night? That made no sense! The girls all wanted to come with the two. But, as Percy pointed out when they were in Common Room, waiting, they didn’t have detentions. That would mean they were out after curfew and would get into trouble.

Eleven o’clock arrived. The girls all gave him one last hug, then the two set out for the entrance hall to meet Mr. Filch. They arrived to find the unpleasant squib waiting for them with Malfoy and Parkinson.

In amongst all the angst since their point-loss, Harry and Ron had forgotten that two others had been caught that night.

With much grumbling, and reminiscing about the old punishments, the man led them outside, to their surprise. They headed across the darkened lawn to Hagrid’s hut, its windows glowing brightly in the dark. The moon was bright, not yet at the last quarter and over half still visible. The clouds swiftly crossing it, however, reduced the illumination it provided.

Harry was relieved. Hagrid would not be such an awful task-master. He knew the truth! Harry relaxed. This wouldn’t be all that bad! But what were they going to be doing outside in the dark? Harry tapped his glasses and turned on their night-vision mode. The dark suddenly became as clear as day, although the colours were a bit muted.

It was when Hagrid appeared out of the forest, carrying a massive crossbow and quiver of arrows, with Fang at his heels, that Harry began to rethink the detention. The crossbow was bigger than he was, and the arrows were more like spears. Hagrid stopped in front of them, and greeted Filch with, “What took so long? I bin waitin’ fer half an hour.” Harry realized that the cross-bow was more of a ballista without the wheels.

Then Filch, spiteful git that he was, said, “I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself? Well, think again! It’s into the forest you’re going. And I’ll be counting the pieces when you come out!” He gave them a nasty grin.

“That’s why yer late?” Hagrid said as he rolled his eyes and frowned at Filch. “Couldn’ stop yerself lecturin’ them, eh?”

Ron grabbed Harry’s sleeve and choked. Pansy grabbed Draco while making the sound a mouse getting stepped-on might make. Draco, paled even further. Enough that Harry was sure the others could see it, too, even without night-vision glasses.

“We’re, we’re going into the Forbidden Forest . . . at night?” squeaked Draco.

Harry didn’t feel too well, himself, at the prospect of going into the forest. It was one thing to go in during the daylight, either the Forbidden or the Everfree, but to go at night? No, not a good idea. Not. At. All.

Even the Equestrian Guards only braved the forest at night in well-armed groups.

And these crazy wizards wanted him to go in with a half-giant?

Harry gave another glance at the massive cross-bow Hagrid was carrying. A well-equipped half-giant, for sure, but still!

And what could there possibly be in the forest that would require going into it at night?

Well, except maybe gathering things for potions. And while the Potions Professor was no slouch with a wand, when he went into the Forbidden Forest he was looking for fungi and plants. Hagrid, on the other hoof, took care of the grounds and animals at the castle. And he, certainly, was not looking for anything as simple as shrivelfigs or bubotubers!

“Right then,” said Hagrid. “It’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight, so listen carefully. I don’ want no one takin’ risks.

No. Really? The Forbidden Forest was dangerous? Who would have thought that? Harry snorted. Did he think they were half-wits, just like him?

“Summat has hurt a unicorn in there — hurt badly, too. I found another one dead last Wednesday. We’re hafta find the poor thing.” He shook his head sadly. “We might have ter put it down.”

Harry could only shake his head, gobsmacked and barely listening, as Filch cackled gleefully, then threatened them with all sorts of terrors — werewolves, acromantulas, centaurs . . . CCEENNTAURS? They weren’t just made-up rumours to scare Firsties?

There were really centaurs in the forest? He shivered in terror.

۸-_-۸

118 — Fortify

Firenze reared back at her question, scowling. “We only use magic to heal and in divination,” he declared. “We have no need of the toys that wizards use,” he said with an arrogant expression, sounding slightly disgusted at the idea. He glanced disapprovingly at the wands the wizards were holding.

Twilight continued to stare at him for a few moments before dropping back to the ground. “Sergeant, tell your troops Firenze and his tribe are friends and to stand down. They are not the ones hunting unicorns.”

The Guards moved back, joining their sergeants to make their reports.

She transformed back into her witch form. “Perhaps we should move this conversation inside?” she suggested. “Maybe you could tell us more of what is going on in the forest?”

The centaur looked at her steadily, then looked up at the nearly impossible to see stars — only the Moon was bright enough to compete with the lights around the castle. “Mars is bright tonight,” he said. “And Venus is hidden in the sun.”

Twilight looked back at him, her head tilted, thinking. After a moment, she gave a small smile. “Astrology. But Mercury and Venus are both direct and enter Gemini today.” She said. “Venus in less than half-an-hour, and Mercury twenty hours later.”

Firenze gave her a sharp look. “The Moon is waning.”

She shrugged, “But Jupiter is direct for the rest of the year.”

He studied her a moment, then smiled. “Perhaps there are a few things we can discuss.”

Everyone else was watching the two, baffled.

He looked over at Harry, Draco, and Pansy. “The young ones should probably be asleep.”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore with a chuckle, “They should be getting some shut-eye. Although, with all the excitement and the lateness of the hour, I doubt it will be as much as they need.”

Firenze looked back Twilight. “The Black Woods Clan has no quarrels with ponies. As long as they are respectful of the forest, I believe you will find ponies are welcome.” He paused. “We, too, have been hunting that which hunts our friends, the unicorns.”

There was a commotion coming from the Hogwarts’ front gates. When they looked, they saw a lone figure making his way hurriedly to the castle, surrounded by four trotting and two flying Guards.

Firenze started a slow pace towards the castle as the Guard ponies settled into a routine. Except for Hagrid, who headed for his hut, the others moved with the centaur. They would reach Hogwarts’ doors at about the same time as the wizard coming up the drive. Harry stayed close to his mum. The wizards said the centaurs were friendly, but God knew they said a lot of things that were not true.

Hogwarts is the safest place in England, the wizards all say. But then why had the Headmaster said, “Stay away from the third-floor corridor if you do not wish to die a most painful death,” at the beginning of the year? And what about the Basilisk that had killed Myrtle? In the school, no less! And then they forgot about it!

And he didn’t even want to think about all the non-magical stuff the wizards got wrong. God, wizards were stupid!

It was Professor Quirrell running up the road, Harry saw, when they drew closer. He was out of breath and looked as if he had run all of the way from Hogsmeade. He was limping, now, and very pale. He must have fallen at least once, as his robes looked badly scuffed. He had a hand pressed to his side. When he caught up with them at the front steps, he stopped and bent over, one hand on his knees and the other on his side, gasping.

“W-w-what,” he waved one hand, “is this?” he managed to get out between deep breaths.

By the heady fumes that quickly surrounded him, he had been drinking heavily.

“Ah. Our Equestrian friends heard that something was killing unicorns in the Forbidden forest. They,” Dumbledore hesitated, “might have over-reacted,” he finished with a smile.

Dumbledore glanced at Twilight. “You won’t be sending your . . . guards back, today?”

She looked out over the lawn, pensive. “No. I think it best if they stay for a little while.” She looked back at the Headmaster. “It might deter whatever is attacking the unicorns from approaching the school, don’t you think?” She gave him a thin smile. “Besides, it’s a good training exercise.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said, and patted his beard.

They continued into the castle. The rest of the professors and all the patrolling prefects were waiting just inside the doors. The Headmaster smiled at them. “Everything is under control,” he said, “There was a little kerfuffle in the forest and the Equestrian Guard was alerted. They’ll be staying the night, at least. I’ll explain more tomorrow at breakfast. The school however, will remain under lockdown tonight.” He turned to Professor McGonagall. “Minerva, would you escort these two Gryffindors to their dorm? And Severus, the same for your two Slytherins? Then you can meet us in my office?”

“I think I will do a head-count, and make sure that there are no wandering Ravenclaws,” said Professor Flitwick, setting off for the dormitory, the two Ravenclaw prefects following him and softly asking questions.

Professor Sprout nodded and said, “An excellent idea.” Then she headed off towards the Hufflepuff dorm, likewise being tailed by her two prefects.

“All right, you two,” Professor McGonagall said sternly, “Back to your rooms.” She walked behind them, making sure they made no side detours.

Professor Snape merely glared at Draco and Pansy. The two quickly started toward the dungeon stairs. Professor Quirrell followed behind them with the Potions Professor. Snape began the story of what had happened that night while the DADA professor apparently had been drinking to the excess in Hogsmeade. The two Slytherin prefects just followed silently, listening closely.

The rest left for their own quarters.

۸-_-۸

The Princess kept glaring at Albus. And her expression was not a happy one. In fact, some might call if blistering anger. And that could only have one cause.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” Albus said carefully. He understood why she was upset. Her . . . son . . . had felt the need to call her to rescue him. “The children had originally been assigned a detention in the castle with Mr. Filch. When Hagrid said he needed assistance with a problem in the forest, I assumed, as did Minerva, that he would be taking some of the Sixth- or Seventh-year Prefects with him. I hadn’t realized that Hagrid meant to ask Mr. Filch for the assistance of those in detention.” He shook his head wryly. “Hagrid tends to think everyone is just like him.”

The Princess did not seem very mollified by his explanation.

He continued to walk and led Princess Sparkle and Firenze to his office.

“Have you made any progress in identifying who is helping the wraith?” Twilight asked.

“None, I’m sorry to say.” He shook his head. “However, that something is attacking the unicorns is disturbing evidence that he has found a host in the meantime. A host he has inhabited long enough to require the magical assistance the blood of a unicorn would grant him.” They walked quietly for a moment. “A host he is unwilling to abandon just yet.” He sighed “That it is one capable of chasing, catching, and harming a unicorn is most troubling.”

“Yes. For him to abandon a host now would be folly,” Twilight said. “He doesn’t know when the artefact will appear — and when he gets it, he wants to be able to use it immediately. If he leaves his host, it might be days or weeks before he can actually use the artefact to restore himself. Days or weeks he must protect the artefact. Strength he doesn’t have to spare. And someone else might take it from whomever is helping him, preventing him from returning to full strength and power.”

They had reached the gargoyle to his office, which moved to the side immediately.

“I only recently placed the object in its final hiding place,” Albus said quietly. “So, he is once more aware of what he seeks. Hence his desperation.” He started up the stairs.

“He’s not in the castle?”

“No. I would have found him by now.”

“And tonight shows he is hiding in the forest.”

Firenze, following them, said, “No. Something powerful has started stalking through the forest, but it does not stay there. The small animals cower in their dens, the larger hide in the deep thickets. The predators are jittery and unpredictable.” He sifted uneasily. “We have tried to protect the unicorns, moving them deeper into the forest, but the giant-spider scourge is also on the move, pushing us towards the castle.”

Albus moved to behind his desk.

Twilight gave him an uncertain look. “I heard there were giant spiders in the forest, just how big are they?” She slowly sat in the plush armchair opposite the Headmaster and looked at Firenze.

“Big enough that a single one can take down a grown stallion.”

She gave him a stunned look. The spider had to be huge, she realized.

“Our best strategy is to avoid them and travel in groups.” He blinked slowly, standing beside her chair. “We still lose warriors every year, despite that. If they attacked en masse, we would lose.” He glanced at Albus. “I think, even the wizards would lose.”

Twilight stared at him. “I will warn the Guards. If they leave us alone, we will leave them alone.” She clearly hoped the spiders would listen.

“Hagrid assures me that Aragog would never allow his children to attack the school,” Albus said reassuringly.

Twilight smiled tightly. “Maybe we can build on that friendship and stop their predation on the unicorns and centaurs before . . . Aragog passes on.”

She took a deep breath. “I think I should pull Harry and the fillies out of the school.” She stared steadily at Albus.

“Exams start next week,” Albus said softly. “It would impact their scores to miss them. They might have to repeat the year.” He paused a beat, then continued, “And the trap is well-set now. Once he enters, he is committed. He has far too much pride to admit he might need help, so the children are safe.”

“Except he’s not trying to get in the castle, directly. It’s his follower. Who might just decide that that is the best course of action.”

Albus shook his head. “First, he, or she, would have to get into Hogwarts. I’ve kept a close watch on my Professors and none of them display any signs of possession. Not even Mr. Filch, who would be the easiest to control. All of them have taught here for years and are above suspicion.” He frowned. “Professor Quirrell is new as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, but he was a Professor of Muggle Studies here previously. He has changed a few of his habits, but it is not possible that Tom could have turned him to his cause. He simply doesn’t have the proper attitude. However, I’ve had Professor Snape watching him, just to be sure.”

He rubbed the side of his nose with his right hand, and then returned to stroking his beard. “And the professors have been keeping a sharp eye on the students, comparing their attitudes and performances this year with previous years. There have not been any serious changes they have been able to detect.” He sighed. “Unless it’s a First Year, but I doubt any of them would have the acting ability to hide their involvement with Tom. Nor the strength or stamina to withstand a possession for more than a few weeks without detection.”

They stared at each other in silence.

“In addition, if he were to suddenly leave,” Albus resumed, “the gossips would have it that he had abandoned our world at this critical point in his education because he was a failure. That he had played instead of studied. That he was afraid he couldn’t pass the exams. And we couldn’t tell the truth without revealing secrets we would rather keep at this juncture.”

Professor Snape came in. “The students are all in the dorm and safe,” he said, before stalking over to a corner of the room.

Then Professor McGonagall arrived. “That’s done,” she said. “Everyone is accounted for in Gryffindor.”

Albus nodded to each, murmuring a soft, “Good.”

He looked over at Twilight. “I doubt his follower will make a move during the day, while classes are in session and the ability to isolate anyone is impossible. And the classes are too large for him to try to control, even if he could, somehow, work his way into the school undetected.”

“And when classes are out?”

“Perhaps Mr. Potter and the girls could stay at the Burrow with the Weasleys when not in class? And we tell everyone that they are taking tests in Equestria. Which the Equestrians have kindly arranged around our tests.”

She nodded slowly and thought as they watched curoiusly. “But that would be unfair to exclude the rest of the Weasleys,” she said. “No to mention the imposition and strain it would place on Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys’ good will and kindness. The housing at the Embassy would be more convenient.”

He frowned, thought a moment, then smiled. “The Ministry Unspeakables wish to interview the young animagi and observe their abilities. Having the children at the Weasleys’ would be much more convenient for all considered. And out of sight of the curious.” That last was a real objection. Visitors to the Embassy compound would definitely take notice of children and small ponies running around, even if only as examples of the “Equestrians” in their normal forms interacting with humans.

The Unspeakables would use charms to make the muggles ignore them, of course, but wizards visiting the Embassy would see. Word would get back to the wizarding community that Harry spent his nights at the Embassy instead of Hogwarts. Rumours would flourish that he was leaving their world. That would draw interest to the Embassy — in a bad way.

Everyone would wonder why Harry Potter was there and not in school. And announcing to the world what they were doing would reveal their plans. And possibly warn Tom and his followers of what they were trying to secretly accomplish.

“That would include all the Weasleys, and most of the First Years, as a group, as well.” He continued smoothly. “The Unspeakables would like to see them interact in a social atmosphere, such as that at the Weasley household, which they wouldn’t be able to do at the Embassy. Also, it would let the Unspeakables compare how the Weasley children’s abilities are different from their mother and the Equestrians’.”

He leaned back a bit in his chair. “Naturally, we can tell everyone we can only do this before school lets out, as then the Equestrian witches will return home for the summer hols.

“All of which provides a simple reason for their absence from their House beds at night. They are assisting the Ministry in research.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed in thought. She leaned back in her chair.

“It would allow Mr. Potter and the girls to study together with their friends here at Hogwarts, during the day, as they prepare for the exams.” Albus said, as he tried to entice her. “And you could post a few of your Guards nearby at the Burrow.” He smiled bit. “And not even Tom would dare go against a group of Unspeakables, even if it was at night!” He frowned ever so slightly, “That he would be interested in particular in Harry at this juncture would be a surprise. I expect all his interest is in returning to life. Only then will he be interested in other matters. Although, I think he would view any accidental interactions with Harry as simply a good opportunity to harm the boy.”

Twilight slowly nodded.

“Plus, skipping the exams would make it impossible for us to measure their skill levels appropriately for next year. And asking the Professors to provide special exams, later, just for Mr. Potter and the Equestrians, would cause problems for the Professors’ own plans for the summer hols. The four would be subject to accusations of favouritism, that the other student would reveal to them the questions and answers to expect.”

He could tell he almost had her.

“And, during the day, we could have Bon Bon and Lyra escort Mr. Potter and the witches to each class,” he offered. He hid his smile. He knew the children would be outraged at being singled out and would try to reject the escort.

Severus snorted loudly in the background, conveying his thoughts on the obvious preferential attention being shown to the Potter boy.

“That could possibly work,” she said. “But the escorts still smack of favouritism.”

“Bon Bon and Lyra have been here all year, so it really shouldn’t be unexpected, especially with the Guards outside the Castle,” he countered. He could see Severus rolling his eyes in the background, revealing his opinion on the lack of subtlety in that offer. His Slytherins would clearly know that Harry Potter was being singled out for special treatment.

“Although, to avoid appearances of favouritism, you could provide escorts for all other classes, as well.” He was sure she would consider that a step too far. Such an undertaking would tax the Ministry Auror force severely.

“Hmm,” hummed the Princess. “And with a Guard inside and outside every class, we could keep a sharp eye on things.” She nodded, then nodded again. He could see she had come to a decision.

“Let’s do that, then. Let’s see, there are seven core classes for the First and Second years, but only four Houses and they double up. Then we have the five electives in the Third through Fifth Years, and the Sixth and Seventh years are combined classes.” She nodded. “That means we need forty teams, then another ten teams for the library, lawns, and backup.”

Albus felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. She thought the posting of Guards to every class was reasonable? He quickly smoothed out his expression. “Teams?” he asked.

“Oh yes, standard squads are three, a unicorn, earth, and pegasus. That way their skills are ready for any contingency.”

“A hundred and fifty Aurors?” gasped Minerva. Severus had a deep scowl.

That would be a significant number of the Auror corp, he realized. And those would be in addition to the hundred or so on the lawn. But if the Equestrians had thousands, or tens of thousands, of Guards? Ah, yes, they had a population of millions. Sparing some for this wouldn’t even be noticed, much less a strain.

“You would turn Hogwarts into a military fort?” Severus demanded, stepping forward. “There is no need to do that!”

“Would you rather leave the children unprotected against a wizard who tortures the defenceless for entertainment?”

“No!” Severus said, taking another step. “There is no need for your Guards,” he half-sneered. “We can easily keep this creature from the school, ourselves. We can keep the Stone safe!”

“Like you were able to keep a troll out of the school? Like you kept a basilisk out of the castle?” she said disbelievingly. She shook her head. “In a situation such as this, it is better to be safe, than sorry.”

The two stared at each other.

“Severus, Minerva,” Albus said quietly. “Perhaps she is right. And it is only for a few weeks.”

The Princess smiled. “I’ll tell the EUP what to expect. And we’ll bring our own provisions. There is no need to tax your supplies here in Hogwarts.”

They continued their discussion for another hour before finishing.

When Twilight and the professors stood to leave, Albus said, “Would you mind staying a moment, Princess Sparkle?”

“No, not at all,” she said, sitting back down. She looked at Firenze and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

He nodded and followed the professors out of the office.

“Have you given any thought,” Albus said, “to letting Harry spend the summer hols with the Weasleys or Sirius? I think it would help him become more comfortable in the wizarding world.”

She tilted her head quizzically. “I think he and the girls would rather he spend that time in Ponyville.”

“Yes, I understand. But it is rather important that everyone think he is returning to his roots, here in England. Going to Equestria would give the impression he is abandoning us.”

“And why should we care about that?” She tilted her head inquisitively.

Albus sighed. “The Potter family has a wizarding history that goes back many centuries. There would be a great deal of resentment if the public felt he was leaving our world for yours. It would make things more difficult for any plans you might have for interacting with the Ministry and merchants here, now and in the future.”

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk as he clasped hands. “Many of the old conservatives in the Wizengamot would conclude you are trying to control the boy for your own purposes . . . to the detriment of the wizarding world. They would begin to balk at the changes I am trying to make. They might even reverse direction in the belief that I, and those who think like I do, are betraying all wizardkind. The more extreme conservatives already think that.” He hesitated. “I do need your help to reform the Wizengamot,” he reluctantly admitted. It would take time to reverse the course of the ship that was the Wizengamot — most had grown up in the 1800’s, as he had, and they still held tight to their antiquated beliefs.

He looked at her, and tried to gauge her reaction.

“It wouldn’t have to be that long, really. Perhaps a week or two at a time, appearing in Diagon Alley, occasionally. Meeting with classmates for summer parties. Inviting some friends to see Equestria. Things to imply that he is living here and not there.”

He pursed his lips. “Maybe even only spend a few days at time every week or so. Minor things, to help along the impression that he is involved with our world.”

He smiled. “You needn’t answer immediately, just give it some consideration over the next few weeks. That’s all I ask.”

She nodded.

He stood. “And I think I need to head to bed, myself. I’m not as spry as I used to be. And it has been an eventful night.”

He escorted her to the door. “I hope you enjoy discussing the stars with Firenze. The centaurs are quite skilled at such things.” He held the door open as she started down the stairs. “And good night to you.” He quietly closed the door.

۸-~-۸

The Headmaster tapped his goblet, bringing attention to him as he stood. “I’m sure you are all wondering about the events of last night,” he said, and smiled as he looked across the Hall.

Elly listened, attentive. She had heard vague talk about the castle being attacked, the castle being surrounded by an army, the castle being lit-up as bright as day outside, and explosions destroying half the Forbidden Forest. It seemed being in the Hufflepuff Dungeon, sleeping, had left them unaware of the events outside their dorms.

In fact, she hadn’t even known the castle had gone into lockdown until their Seventh-year Prefect had told them it had been released this morning at daylight. Most of the rest of her dorm-mates hadn’t known, either. And a new routine had been instigated. “For the rest of the year,” the Hufflepuff Seventh-year Prefect had said, “all students have to be escorted at all times. By either a Professor, a prefect, or pony Guards.”

Elly hadn’t quite understood that last. Pony Guards?

They had had to wait until the entire dorm could make the trip as a single unit.

She did notice, when she walked in with the other Hufflepuffs, that Princess Sparkle was once more sitting with Harry and his herd-mates at the Gryffindor table.

“To my everlasting sorrow,” Dumbledore continued, “late last night a unicorn was attacked.”

Nearly everyone in the Hall gasped. Elly narrowed her eyes and glanced at the disguised alicorn. Now that she looked, Harry and the other First Years were bracketed by Bon Bon and Lyra. Had someone dared to attack them?

“This act precipitated a call by Mr. Potter for assistance. He was in the Forbidden Forest on detention, at the time, with three other students.” The Headmaster chuckled, softly, “Princess Sparkle was quick to respond, and brought a contingent of the Equestrian Army with her.” He paused as the room broke out into whispers.

He cleared his throat and the whispers quickly dropped away. “They are currently camped at the edges of the Forbidden Forest watching for the foul creature that attacked the unicorn. Please, do not disturb them.”

He looked around the room, again. “However, in view of that attack, we have instituted certain measures for your safety. From today until you board the Hogwarts’ Express, all students must be escorted. No student will be allowed to be alone, for any reason.”

Whispering started up again.

He started to sit, then stopped, stood, and tapped his goblet, again. Once he had their attention, he said, “By the way, the unicorn is expected to make a full recovery, as is Corporal Clever.” He sat back down.

This time the hall erupted into loud discussions.

Elly devoted her attention to her breakfast. Or, at least, she pretended to do so. Inside, she was trying not to panic. She was so glad she had already secured those extra jars in the Chamber of Secrets. And the other pair that she had secured behind one of the walls that pretended to be a door on the first floor.

She planned to stick to the crowds from now on. And do nothing that might attract any attention. And she was very glad she had stored a full seven jars and part of an eighth in her trunk.

Her friends around her were all expressing wonder at what could have happened last night, who the mysterious Corporal Clever was, and what had happened to him. And how did that translate into needing additional protection in the castle?

She, on the other hand, was terrified that the Equestrian army was here. If one of them were to cast that ‘changeling reveal’ spell on her, she would be captured and imprisoned, she knew. Probably even executed.

Should she decide to flee, first she’d have to get past the guards in the Great Hall and the Entry. Transforming was right out — there were far too many witnesses in the room. The confusion when she changed would not be enough to be worth the risk. And with the army ensconced on the lawn, the odds of her successfully escaping them if she did manage to get out of the castle were next to zero.

However, they did not suspect her. She knew that. Her infiltration was perfect. All she had to do was avoid the Guard! All. She shuddered.

She continued to pretend to eat. The buzz of conversation around here was just that, she was too worried to really listen to whatever inconsequential things they were saying. She nodded to her friends comments when she noticed they were directed at her. She shrugged at their questions, not wanting anyone to suspect she knew far more than she should. She tried to act as amazed as they did. That last was easy, given the way everyone’s emotions flooded the room.

When breakfast was concluded, several squads of three ponies entered the Great Hall, to her horror. At first, she thought they were all going to search through the students for lings, but they didn’t. Instead, she watched as the different year-groups in the Houses were ushered to the Great Hall doors by their prefects. A squad of three ponies then escorted them away, to their classes, the Prefects re-iterated.

As each group left with a squad, another squad came in for the next.

The unicorn went first, the earth-pony behind, and the pegasus overhead. Although, it was more the students telling the guards where they were supposed to go because they knew the school and the guards didn’t. And then the Guards waited for them, one team outside and one team inside the classroom, to conduct them to their next class. There were always Guard ponies watching the corridors and the classes.

Naturally, there was much speculation on just what the ponies could do. Only the unicorn appeared capable of magic.

The Slytherins were especially doubtful. She overheard Draco as he sneered and said, “What good are they? Only the unicorns can cast magic — and poorly at that, I bet. The other two horses are simply window-dressing. Without magic, they are less than muggles.” He looked disgusted

Elly kept her silence. She knew none of the EUP were to be trifled with.

۸-_-۸

119 — Presence

Twilight followed Albus back to his office. Once inside, instead of sitting, herself, she waited until he sat, then moved to the front of his desk. She looked at him with narrowed eyes and slightly hunched forward posture. “What are you going to do about Mr. Filch, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, and Hagrid?”

Albus looked at her, startled.

“I have been talking with Bon Bon and Lyra, and the children. Mr. Filch is totally unsuited for being in a position of authority in a school of children. He is hateful, mean, insulting, and enjoys terrorizing children. He constantly hassles them over the littlest infraction and takes great delight in the doling out of detentions.” She hesitated, but continued, “Much like Professor Snape, without the redeeming quality of actually being able to teach them anything. Not that there is much redemption in that respect. But, at least, the Professor doesn’t spend detention time watching students polish and oil instruments of torture while loudly proclaiming how he wishes he could use them instead, as Mr. Filch does.”

“And it seems remarkably cruel to have a squib . . . a squib — someone incapable of magic — in a school whose entire purpose is teaching magic. No wonder he’s always unhappy and in an awful mood! I would be in his place! I imagine he would be much happier in a location where his lack of talent isn’t rubbed in his face every day. Some place where he isn’t taunted either by accident or on purpose about his situation.

“His actions last night prove he doesn’t have the best interests of the students in mind, at all. He was delighted to taunt the four, stating he expected them to be injured! If he had any concern for their safety, he wouldn’t have considered Hagrid’s request in the first place. Because he did, he’s clearly unsuited for his position.”

“As for Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, there is no excuse for having children serve a detention two hours after their curfew. Children that age can barely stay awake at that late an hour, as I’m sure your astronomy professor can tell you. It merely deprives them of sleep and makes the detention worthless as both a learning and a disciplinary tool. Not to mention how it adversely effects their schoolwork the next day.

“The Forbidden Forest is off limits to students, during the day, because you consider it too dangerous for them to explore. What reason could she have had to assign them their detention there, at night?” She glared at him balefully. “At night, in poor visibility, when any kind of dangerous creature could sneak up on them! What if they had stumbled over a mother fox’s or badger’s den, wolves, or snakes? And what about the dangerous magical creatures? Any one of those would attack if it felt it were trapped. Even deer will do that! Plus, in such poor lighting, they could have simply tripped over a hole, log, or other debris they couldn’t see in the dark, and broken a leg. Or neck.”

“And then she sends them with someone who she knows barely has a magical education in advance of the students? To chase after something capable of catching and killing unicorns? True, Hagrid is a half-giant and a fearsome appearing person that everything in the forest normally avoids, but anything capable of chasing the incredibly fast unicorns in the forest, and catching them, could attack and escape before Hagrid even knew the creature was nearby. It certainly has shown it will kill, hasn’t it? What if it decided to grab one of the kids instead of a unicorn?

She threw her arms wide in emphasis. “That is totally unacceptable.” She continued to glare at him. “If the things I’ve heard about happening in this school, so far this year, make you say that this is the safest place in all of England, then I think that word does not mean what you think it does!”

“But Minerva didn’t know that Mr. Filch was allowing Hagrid to take over the detention,” Albus protested.

“Sorry, but that doesn’t cut it. As your Deputy, she had to know what was happening in the forest, she had to know what Hagrid planned that night, she had to know that Hagrid was asking for help. If she didn’t know these facts, she isn’t doing her job! Did she expect Mr. Filch to have the children mopping the floors that late at night? Anyone with common sense would have realized something was wrong with that situation. Besides, why is Mr. Filch even here? Don’t the house-elves take care of the castle?

“And Hagrid! Harry and the girls think he is great, but he’s a half-giant who only recently got his wand returned. That he would even consider it safe to take sleepy and terrified children into a deadly forest at night shows his decision-making abilities are seriously suspect. That he then sent two children off alone into the forest with his dog, Fang — who he admits is a coward and unsuited for the protection of children — merely confirms his lack of good judgement.”

She snorted angrily and leaned over his desk, placing her hands on it.

“What would have happened if the two with Fang had run into the creature while it was standing over a unicorn? Fang would have left them alone! Two children! Facing a powerful and dangerous creature! How do you think they would have fared? And they certainly could not run faster than a unicorn to escape!

“And now that we know it is Voldemort possessing the creature? That makes it even worse! What if he’s possessing a Griffon? Or a wolf?

“Do you think Hagrid, himself, would have been able to stand up to the creature? If Hagrid, Harry, and Ron had stumbled across Voldemort over a wounded or dead unicorn, do you think the children would have survived if Voldemort had decided to target them instead of Hagrid?

“Tartarus! All a well-trained Earth pony could do was drive it off! And the pony wore magic-shielding armour and was armed with a mini-gun that would have torn a normal creature to pieces! Plus, Corporal Clever still nearly died.”

She looked away for a moment.

“That they might have deserved a detention is not the question — and I do have questions about that, by the way. The problem is a bunch of stupid decisions were made one after the other by people who are supposed to be intelligent and competent adults!”

She stared down at him, breathing heavily.

Albus sighed and looked down at his desk a moment, then back up at the angry Princess. “You are correct, of course. The detention was mishandled from beginning to end,” he said. “We are dreadfully over-worked. I haven’t been paying as much attention to the school as I should while I’ve been searching for the horcruxes, or I would not have allowed the children in the forest. I accept full responsibility for what happened.” He gazed at her calmly.

“Minerva has been doing a wonderful job of juggling being Head of House, Professor of Transfigurations, vetting the items in the Room of Requirement with Professor Flitwick, and handling the school responsibilities I haven’t had the time for myself. And the coming exams just added to her workload.

“Next year, things will be different, with House Parents taking the House responsibilities, and she will have an assistant in her classes. And, with luck, by then we will have settled the Voldemort problem and I can return to my duties here.”

Twilight was beginning to calm back down. She was a reasonable person, after all, he knew.

He sighed again. “This is one of the things that just fell through the cracks. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Other than this incident, she has been coping admirably with the additional responsibilities she has had to take on, and not letting them affect her other duties. Still, there is quite a bit of stress on her at the moment.

“I will have a long discussion with her about this, and how it can be avoided in the future.” He looked down at his desk, again, and pursed his lips, thinking.

The princess nodded, slowly, somewhat mollified.

“I will make sure Hagrid understands he can only supervise students in detention during daylight hours, outside of the forest. Detentions will be restricted to caring for mostly harmless small animals and our outdoor gardens, only.” He paused, and corrected himself, “What I consider harmless small animals.”

Again, she nodded. “And Mr. Filch?” she said, and watched him closely.

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Perhaps it is time Argus retired. He has served faithfully, and well, as caretaker of the school for twenty-three years.” He looked up at her. “I would like him to have two more years, to make it to twenty-five for full retirement. And, he needs time to research and make arrangements on where he will live. He has lived here at the castle since he was first hired. He deserves that much consideration.”

She studied him thoughtfully, then nodded. “He can stay only if he gets an assistant to reduce his interactions with the students. I would prefer he had no interactions at all, except incidental. So, no patrolling for errant students after curfew, no supervising errant students during detentions, and as little contact with students as possible the rest of the time.”

She stared at him a moment. “Why aren’t you using your map?” She waved a hand at the Hogwarts map occupying the wall. “Post two Prefects here, at night, watching the map. If they see a student out after curfew, note the name and then go get them. Or, better yet, hire two aurors for night duty.”

Albus glanced at the map. Indeed, they had continued the Prefect patrols because that was the way they had been doing things for a thousand years, but the map would make it so much simpler. “But by the time a Prefect arrived at where the student had been, the student wouldn’t be there anymore.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’ll get you thirty communication crystals, that way the one here can direct the other. And call the sleeping prefects, or professors, if more than one student is out.”

“Communication crystals?”

“Like the ones the Guards are using.”

He nodded. He had seen many of the pony Guards using crystals to communicate instantly across the castle. Quite convenient for quick instructions. Amazing that wizards had never thought to create such a device. They would make staff reactions to emergencies so much easier and quicker.

“We will start that routine as soon as the crystals arrive,” he said.

She stood. “I will have them in your hands in an hour.” She glanced at the map. “And now, I will have a discussion with Hagrid about last night.” She glanced back at him. “And then Professor McGonagall, to determine why she so harshly treated Harry and Ron Weasley when she first assigned the detention. They were, after all, trying to protect Hagrid. According to what the fillies told me, at least, they had a good reason to be out after curfew.”

۸-_-۸

At lunch, the entire school was carefully herded outside, where they were given a demonstration of why the Equestrian Guards were not to be taken lightly. Seeing an earth-pony Guard cut a tree in half, while setting it on fire, from a distance five-times the range of a typical wand-duel, was frightening to the wizards. Seeing it happen again, after punching through a shield charm projected by Professor Flitwick, made everyone resolve to be polite to the ponies.

Then, one of the pegasi made a strafing run along the edge of the forest. From out of range of a wand. And at a speed that would have made a professional broom-racer proud. That the pegasus managed to fly sideways and backwards while doing this left them speechless.

And the Quidditch team members jealous.

Yes, the ponies would be a formidable foe in a fight. Especially as they had no concept of duels. They fought as a team. A single wizard could only beat them with stealth and surprise. In a straight fight, the unicorn would occupy the wizard while the other two attacked from the sides, or behind, with impunity.

So, no making fun of the pony Guards, especially in any place they might be able to overhear you.

And seeing the fox-holes and trenches separating Hogwarts’ lawns from the Forbidden Forest showed them how serious the ponies were in keeping the school safe. Which actually made the students feel safer.

Then the students returned to their classes for the afternoon. The Slytherins were especially quiet. Elly knew they would be relaying what they had seen to their parents.

And she would have to make sure her hive was very deep underground.

After classes, they were escorted to their dorms, library, and outside. Most students spent that time in the library or the common rooms. Elly stayed in her dorm-room, sitting on her bed. Her friends thought she was preparing for the exams. She was, instead, studying the documents about the estate she now owned. She had never owned anything before, except her saddle-bags.

She wanted to be prepared to start on her hive-space immediately.

She also studied the list of possible tenants for the houses in the tiny village at the entrance to the estate.

The Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Quidditch teams practiced under the watchful eyes of most of the pegasi Guards. Many were taking notes, to the surprise of the team captains.

Harry Potter, and the rest of his herd, left the castle that evening after dinner. According to the rumour mill, they were being interrogated by the Unspeakables about their animagi abilities. She shuddered at the thought of meeting the Unspeakables. From the rumours she had heard, if one of them found her she would disappear inside their research facility and never be seen, or heard from, again.

While the others were in the common room exchanging gossip and rumours, she carefully retrieved her eighth jar of food and the resin-wrapped stone. She hoped that submerging the stone in the jar’s contents would further protect it from discovery. She added to and sculpted the resin jar until it was a small rectangular box. Then she wrapped it in paper. Twice.

This was a big risk, but she couldn’t take the chance on keeping this here. Even if the ponies weren’t looking for it now, she was sure she would be unable to smuggle it onto the train. If anyone took a serious look, they would find it immediately, she was sure.

And she planned on spending a night redesigning the remaining food jars to look like the juice bottles sold in Hogsmeade. If anyone examined them, they would only see the sweet liquid inside and not suspect that they hadn’t been purchased. Any magic cast would show them as harmless.

Not so the rock she had, she was sure. Even if they didn’t recognize its shape and colour they would realize it was something different and bring it to the Headmaster’s attention. Then she would really be in trouble.

She just hoped the confusion of this first day would give her the opening she needed to sneak it out.

She returned to the common room. She glanced nervously at the six ponies standing in a row in front of the Common Room entrance. They were in the centre of a large group of curious Hufflepuffs who were examining their armour and weapons. But no petting. That had been ruled out immediately. They were on duty. She could feel they were curious about what they were hearing and seeing. They probably hadn’t met very many humans, before. Especially not wizards and witches.

She took a deep breath and sought out the Seventh-year prefect. “Excuse me, Mr. Rincewind?”

He sighed, and looked up from his book. He smiled affectionately upon seeing her. Apparently she was one of the few to give him no difficulties this year.

“I would like to owl-mail this package?” She held it out in front of her.

He rolled his eyes. “Over there,” he said, pointing at a small group of students by one of the paintings. Most were sixth and seventh year students. “You’re not the only one who has an urgent package or letter that needs to go home, right now,” he said dryly. He flicked his gaze at the ponies. He wasn’t even curious at what her package might contain.

“It’s candy,” she blurted out. “It won’t fit in my trunk and I want some to have over the summer at home.”

He grinned. “You’re not the only one.” He nodded at the group. “They’ll wait a few more minutes, then go as a group.” She could tell he was more interested in returning to his studies than what she wanted to do.

“Thank you,” she said softly, smiling.

Only when she watched the owl wing its way out with her package to Gringotts and two additional letters to London did she relax.

And the paintings made what would have been an arduous task traipsing around the castle simple and quick!

۸-_-۸

Castor followed Prince Blueblood into the conference room. He greeted the Prime Minister, Foreign and Home Secretaries, and the Directors of M.I. 5 and M.I. 6 with a cordial hello. He made his way to the table and sat at his assigned chair.

“Thank you for responding so quickly, gentlemen,” Prince Blueblood said stiffly, sitting on his side of the table. If he was perturbed to be the only one on that side, he didn’t show it. There was an Equestrian flag displayed on the pole-stand behind him.

“I wanted to brief you on last night’s incident.”

He glanced at the Intelligence directors. “I’m sure you have heard that there was some unusual activity at the embassy,” he said, raising an eyebrow delicately. “The Princesses would like me to explain why,” his tone bland, as usual, and giving away nothing of his own opinions.

The Equestrians had learned a lot about the human world in the last nine months, Castor knew. Some he had told them, after securing clearance from his superiors, of course. The rest they had probably learned from the copious quantities of books they had purchased. It didn’t take a genius to know that their Embassy was closely watched, both from the ground and the sky.

And not just by their friends on this side.

The abrupt movement of so many Equestrian guards had certainly attracted their attention. That the guards had been carrying obvious military equipment, and were prepared for combat, had been rather alarming. That they had disappeared so quickly hadn’t been reassuring in the slightest.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, they had crossed quickly from the Portal Dome to the Embassy, and out of direct sight. The British knew these Guards were not at the Embassy, but the other nations would not be sure. It would take a few days for their spies to realize the Guards had moved on — the building was certainly large enough to house them, if the Equestrians had wanted to do that. But if they had done that, they would be visible moving around the building.

With their teleportation ability, and the new floo-network, the ponies could literally be anywhere in the world.

Overall, the last few months had been hectic, but promising. The two countries had been exchanging rather a lot of information, and other things. The business-boom of their “new-technology” was making itself felt. The unemployment rate, which had been rising for several years, had started to plateau.

There were even signs that it might be starting to drop.

Nearly every hospital in the world wanted a new “cancer-cure” machine. That the device was priced about the same as a small house or expensive ambulance made it extremely affordable. Practically every hospital wanted one, or even two. And with nearly sixteen thousand hospitals in the world, that was a good market.

The bone-growing kits were equally popular.

They hadn’t needed to “spike” the medicines with gem-dust for non-magicals, as they had first thought. Instead, the experts had come up with splints that were arranged around the broken bones. The splints were, of course, actually magic rods . . . wands. Staffs? Whatever. Just having such a magical item beside the injured bone provided enough magic to allow the medicines to work correctly and consistently. Minor cracks or simple fractures took mere hours to correct instead of the normal weeks.

Unfortunately, while the splints could be production-lined, the new medicines could not. The Apothecarist had thought it a prank, at first, back in January when Castor had asked the price per tonne for the needed ingredients. And then fainted when told just how many tonnes he wanted. Castor had wiped out the store’s on-hand supply, and then the store’s warehouse supplier’s stock. Then the European reserves, as well.

The new greenhouses were just now starting to reach production levels for those ingredients. The large number of earth-pony farmers being instructed by wizard professionals had been a considerable help. The supply still nowhere matched the demand, but it was improving.

Nevertheless, the kits were fetching quite a mark-up on the black market. And the Skele-gro replacement medicines were even higher.

Like the cancer-curing machines, new-tech pods made of such rods allowed amputees to regrow lost limbs while hiding the magic. Those machines were more expensive than the cancer machines, and a hospital required more of them, as they took days at a time for each patient. The waiting lists, at the moment, were huge, but they were making significant progress. Military veterans had priority.

And the machines were just as popular in Equestria as they were on this side of the portal.

The flow of goods ran both ways: the Brits supplied the mass-made equipment and the Equestrians supplied the magic rods.

The experiments with re-growing lost organs, such as eyes and hearing, were showing promising results. As were the experiments with severe-burn victims.

That didn’t count the equipment the Brits were selling, either. So far, they had moved three steam locomotives, several thousand bogies and wheel assemblies, hundreds of green-house kits, and about twenty thousand collapsible metal garden carts with hard-rubber wheels through the portal.

Consultations on setting up at least three full-scale mining operations and ten manufacturing facilities were underway, too.

Negotiations were currently in process for the creation of an additional portal location to handle the flow of commerce. A much bigger portal. Located near a sea-port.

And several of the discussions between the astronomers and physicists had broken down into fist-fights, to the watching Equestrians’ astonishment. The two groups were now sulking in different parts of the Canterlot Palace, he had last heard, using Equestrian interns as neutral-party messengers.

In addition, there was a joint British-American rocket launch in the works for a trip to the moon to test the range of floo-travel and portkeys. With both feather-weight and expansion charms “tech,” it looked to be a game-changer in space exploration.

The arts were another flourishing market for the Brits, as the ponies built cinemas and set about creating their own production facilities. Creating pony versions of popular films and books was turning into a massive industry in Equestria. And they were importing people from Britain, Canada, and the Colonies as fast as they could convince them to share their expertise. And if they had magic, it made luncheon conferences that much easier.

“Around midnight, last night, Harry Potter was in a . . . ,” Prince Blueblood hesitated, then said in a disparaging tone, “supervised detention,” he didn’t quite roll his eyes, but Castor could see he wanted to, “in the Forbidden Forest beside Hogwarts.” His return to a blank look expressed clearly his opinion of the matter.

“There is apparently a problem with something harming native creatures, unicorns, to be precise.” He frowned delicately at the thought. “Not one of our ponies, fortunately. But, still, a very unusual event worthy of investigation by the proper authorities.

“Leaving aside the dubious educational value of a group of children led by a half-giant traipsing through a deadly forest in the middle of the night, there was an incident,” he continued in a conversational tone.

The humans exchanged alarmed looks.

“Apparently, Mr. Potter, along with a Mr. Weasley and Mr. Hagrid, came upon a centaur.” He looked around the table with an aloof expression. “That is, if you aren’t aware, a creature with the body of a pony and the head and torso of a human instead of the head and neck you would normally find on a pony.

“Equestria has a tense relationship with the centaurs of our world. A year ago, one of them, Tirek, discovered how to steal magic from ponies. He attacked Equestria, growing more and more powerful. For a brief time, he conquered our nation.

“His actions killed many pegasi, who fell to their deaths. On the ground, most ponies could survive without their magic. They were, however, greatly weakened and unable to protect themselves from predators. Many of those living at the edges of our nation suffered losses. It was a small percentage of the population, to be sure, barely one percent, but any such loss is devastating to the families and relatives. The Pegasus Tribe is still in the process of recovering.”

Castor was stunned. A one percent loss of life in a population of six million was worse than the Jewish Holocuast in Germany, who accounted for less than six-tenths of a percent of the population. And this was caused by one creature?

“It was a traumatic event for the ponies of Equestria.” Blueblood paused a moment.

“As a result, Mr. Potter reacted in a manner wholly consistent with his previous encounter with Tirek. He ran and called for the Equestrian Royal Guard and Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

Castor could see the slight smile of approval the ambassador had at the end of that sentence.

“Princess Sparkle led one hundred and thirty-two Guards to Hogwarts to deal with the issue.” He looked around the table, again. “That was the first group of Guards you saw leaving the Portal Dome.

“On arrival, she determined that it was a false alarm. The centaurs in the Forbidden Forest have no interest in acquiring magic. Nor the means to do so, they have said.

“However, our forces did have contact with the creature that was hunting the unicorns. One Guard was severely injured, as was a native unicorn. Both were safely evacuated and are being treated. Both are expected to recover.” He stopped, then smiled. “Actually three, as the unicorn is a mare and was with foal, which was delivered safely.

“In view of the fact that the creature is still roaming the Forest, Princess Sparkle brought in another hundred and eighty Guards and support staff to patrol the school and its grounds.” He paused and smiled. “That was the second group of Guards you saw.”

He looked at the Prime Minister. “This is a magical problem, and you do not yet have the troops you need to respond quickly to an immediate threat in that area. The Guards will only be at the school until June twenty-first.”

He looked at the others in the room.

“The Princesses and I feel that we have a good working relationship with the United Kingdom, and we wish it to remain so. The only reason Guards were sent was because of the suddenness of the incident and the danger that, if it were true, it would be catastrophic. There was no time to alert your forces to the problem. We had to act immediately. And you couldn’t have responded with your present forces without violating their Statute of Secrecy and involving the world-wide community.

“We will not leave any Guards at Hogwarts when the students leave for the summer in three weeks. They will all return to Equestria.”

He turned to face the Prime Minister directly. “If there is any need to change that, I will inform you and ask your permission.”

The ambassador stood and bowed.

“Also, the Princesses wish to formally thank you, in writing, for the weapons and samples you have provided at our request.” He pulled a letter from his pocket and gently placed it on the table, then slid it to the Prime Minister. “Without them, there is no doubt that both our Guard, and the unicorn mare and foal, would be dead. And that there might also have been many other casualties as well.”

The room was quiet for a moment.

Prince Blueblood bowed, again, then sat at his seat at the table.

“Perhaps we should set up a direct line of communication to your office, such as the Americans have with the Kremlin, so that we can readily alert you to problems?” he suggested. “And vice versa.”

۸-_-۸

120 — Assessments

Twilight’s knowledge of book-walking, as applied to paintings, was shared with the professors and Guard. As a result, Wednesday night, paintings were quickly re-arranged to allow direct transfer between the four dormitories’ common rooms and the Great Hall.

“Ah, darnit!” said Apple Bloom. “Now everybody knows about our secret.” She shook her head wryly. They watched as the painting in the common room were being rearranged and labelled as to their new, linked destinations.

“Well, we knew the secret would get out sooner or later,” said Sweetie Belle, helpfully.

“Ah know, but I’d hoped we’d make it till summer!”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “Yeah, I know. And next year they’ll probably figure out a way to block that except in emergencies.”

“It was fun, though, wasn’t it?” said Scootaloo. They all had to agree with that sentiment.

As soon as the Professors were finished in the dorms, they left to organize paintings all across Hogwarts to go between the Great Hall and the classes. And then the library and owlery were added. The Great Hall was now Grand Central Station for the students. Every student leaving or entering a dorm went through there, first and last.

The corridors were almost empty, except for patrolling prefects and their Guard ponies, as a result. And with Guards at all the House entrances, sneaking out that way for privacy or a rendezvous was impossible.

۸-~-۸

Despite the advantages the paintings provided in moving around the castle quickly and safely, it was still very awkward being restricted to only moving as a group, the Gryffindor’s quickly discovered. It was one thing to wait for your friends before leaving for the Great Hall, and quite another to have to wait for the slowest member of your class to get ready before anyone could move on. Getting up in the mornings turned into a group effort at efficiency.

Thursday morning breakfast was a bit of a surprise when they entered the Great Hall saw the House Points’ Tubes. The school discovered that Gryffindor had somehow acquired one hundred and twenty points and Slytherin had gained twenty. Which, of course, led to much speculation and gossip.

Hedwyg delivered a message from Harry’s mum, during the parliament of owls, that the points taken from Ron and Harry three weeks before had been done in error, and were now adjusted to something a bit more proper.

Harry and Ron had not been trying to prank Malfoy and Parkinson, the letter pointed out. Their remaining point loss was to reflect that they had been out after curfew, nothing more, nothing less. That they should have told their Head of House about the dragon wasn’t punished, as Hagrid should have told the Headmaster, himself! And Hagrid’s transgression, him being a “responsible” adult, clearly out-weighed theirs. They had been, after all, following an adult’s lead.

Harry snickered. It was obvious his mum had been more than a little disturbed at Professor McGonagall’s excessive reaction last month. Too bad she couldn’t have stayed an extra day. But she was busy. Equestria and the Portal were apparently creating a lot of work for her.

No doubt the Heads of House would inform everyone else later about the adjustments. In the meantime, Harry and Ron were glad to read that they were no longer being held responsible for putting Slytherin ahead in House points. Now it was once more Gryffindor first and Slytherin second.

The Slytherins were clearly not as pleased as the rest of the school.

And Professor McGonagall, he was sure, had to be conflicted. True, she had been taken to task by his mum and her decision modified, but now her House was the point leader. It was impossible to tell if Professor Snape was upset or not. He always seemed to sport a sneer when he looked at the Gryffindor table, anyway. Maybe it was a bit more sneery-er?

A big surprise was to see Sirius Black, escorted by three ponies, storm into the Great Hall at lunch, clearly upset. He hurried straight over to where Harry was seated. “Harry!” he cried. He snatched the boy into a hug, and then held him at arms-length. He looked the boy up and down critically. “You’re not hurt, are you?” he said with narrowed eyes. He cast a furious look at the Head Table, singling out the Headmaster first, then looked over to Professor McGonagall.

Sweetie Belle, understanding the wizard’s anxiety, scooted over to make room for him at the table. They spent most of the rest of lunch time explaining what had happened. And why. Most of the Gryffindors at this end of table listened in, as did some of the Hufflepuffs who were close enough to eavesdrop.

Harry couldn’t find it in himself to worry about what they learned. The gossips would make up gossip, regardless of the truth.

“Hagrid got a dragon’s egg to hatch!” he said admiringly. He shook his head.

And continued to shake his head in disbelief a moment later. “You smuggled a dragon out of Hogwarts in the middle of the night? And no one knew?” He chuckled. “Merlin! Your father would be beside himself if he could have pulled that off himself! He’d be so proud of you if he were here.”

Then they explained what had happened in detention, Tuesday night.

That got Harry a steady look, and then Sirius took a look around the Hall at the Guards.

He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye and smirked. “No prank the Marauders ever pulled off can compare to getting Hogwarts invaded by hundreds of well-armed ponies! And you didn’t even get in trouble for it! Marvellous!” He grinned at Harry.

“We usually got detention for our pranks.”

He leaned close to Harry and whispered, “Do you think the Princesses are going to annex Hogwarts? Wouldn’t that be a stick up the old families’ arses!”

Harry blushed bright red. “No!” he exclaimed loudly, surprised. Realizing how he had the undivided attention of a score or two of students, he slumped down. “Mum already told me this is just until we go home,” he half-whispered back. “She’s worried the non-magicals will get upset if she did that.”

“But, still, you shouldn’t have been forced into the forest at night,” Sirius said angrily, and scowled. His mercurial emotions were evident as he turned and darkly glared up at a certain wizard and witch at the Head Table.

It made him warm inside to see Sirius reacting so strongly. And over him! He had learned to expect that from his mum and the fillies, but that there were others who felt that way was almost unbelievable to him. He cherished every second that the wizard was with them.

He had to smirk, seeing the look in Sirius’ eyes when lunch was over and he saw the Headmaster start to stand. From his expression, Harry knew that both the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall would have been in for some serious (!) pranking if the wizard had still been a student. As it was, he was sure the wizard was going to be tearing a strip off both of them and nailing it to his wall at home as a trophy.

He certainly felt like doing the same when he thought about the chain of events and how badly the professors had handled everything. But, then again, what could you expect from wizards? Common sense? If only he could remember those spells, he’d make sure they never did anything so stupid, again. If they recovered enough return to the school, that is.

He wondered, if he dared to ask, would Sirius let him see the memories of his conversations with the two in his pensieve?

He was very disappointed with his father’s other friend, Professor Lupin, however. The wizard hadn’t been nearly as upset, or demonstrative, as Sirius. He hadn’t even come to visit Harry in the Hospital Wing on Wednesday. He just frowned unhappily and looked sad.

Thursday and Friday after the ponies arrived were a bit tense for the wizards and witches, Harry noticed, especially after the demonstration on the lawn. Still, this was a school, and the students’ priorities quickly shifted back to oncoming exams. The Fifth and Seventh years were soon too wrapped up in their studies to notice the ponies that were guiding them, and they absentmindedly followed their escorts.

The restoration of Gryffindor’s lead in House Points should have restored most of the school’s good nature towards Harry. Unfortunately, everyone knew he was responsible for the presence of the pony Guards. And their restriction to being escorted everywhere. If he had not panicked, none of this would have happened.

The wizards and witches who were dating were especially put out and unhappy with the situation. Naturally, and not consciously, they took out their frustrations on their friends. Who, in turn, tended to view Harry with severe disapproval. The dating couples did blame Harry, directly, for their now chronic lack of privacy. Most were not shy, nor quiet, about publicly denouncing him, at first. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, but it was still quite evident.

So, for Harry, things didn’t really improve very much. Other students still resented his very presence.

“Relax, Harry,” Scootaloo said, dropping beside him in the library.

They were both ponies. In fact, as usual, all the animagi Firsties were. The petting, stroking, and ear scritching kept him calm, but only his fellow Gryffindor Firsties were inclined to do so. Everyone else gravitated to the other ponies in the room. He was definitely feeling shunned. Which only made him appreciate his friends more.

“You know that if any of us had been there, we would have done the exact same thing.”

“Only with more screamin’,” put in Apple Bloom. She was laying on her stomach almost at a right angle to him, Lavender’s hand stroking her neck absentmindedly while she revised her notes. The filly nuzzled his muzzle before turning back to her own notes.

He sighed dejectedly. He found himself using the book-walking spell more now. Mostly to escape the accusatory stares and not that he needed to check his notes against the original material.

Not even the Quidditch team was on his side.

Only the animagi were truly supporting him. They were shunning Harry’s more vocal critics. Given a choice between petting soft, furry, friendly ponies and upbraiding Harry over a loss of privacy, most students kept their mouths shut and merely glared at Harry. The other Gryffindor Firsties had been a bit standoffish, but after an explanation of what had happened with Tirek, they had quickly come to understand the situation. And they didn’t have any dating couples anyway, so they didn’t have a dog in that fight.

Disappearing every evening and staying all night for their meetings with the Unspeakables at the Weasleys’ didn’t help his case, either. Despite the fact that all the animagi went as a group, others still claimed he was getting special treatment. And held that up as one more reason to be unpleasant to Harry.

He felt really guilty about staying at the Weasleys’ home while everyone not an animagi had to stay here. It didn’t help that they could actually play outside in the sun without being watched by dozens of Guards. Or see that the lawns had been turned into a potential battle zone and military encampment.

On the other hand, he got to sleep in a pony pile, once again. He was surprised to note how much he had missed that. Even Ron mentioned how nice it was.

Harry wasn’t sure that trading the obvious presence of the Guards for the sneaky and creepy Unspeakables was an improvement. And spending an hour every evening answering questions such as, “Are your feelings towards Scootaloo different when you’re a wizard than when you’re a pony?” and “When you were a pegasus last summer, how different did that feel from what you feel now?” were tedious in the extreme. Especially because they kept repeating the questions! As if they were going to get different answers depending on if he was a unicorn or a wizard at the time.

But the Weasleys had been delighted that they could go home in the evenings, and thanked him profusely. They especially liked seeing how their extra income to the family had improved The Burrow. New furniture, new paint, and expanded rooms were only a few of the changes they could see.

The three older Weasleys children seemed to view the Unspeakables a bit differently, and had started asking them questions related to their classes. That the answers were extremely insightful had surprised them almost as much as the fact that the Unspeakables had answered at all.

Still, he could hardly wait for the exams to be over.

Oliver Wood was approaching.

Harry looked up.

“Are you gonna make practice,” Oliver said sourly, looking at the animagi. He didn’t care, personally, about the ponies on the lawns or the strict group-only restrictions. No, instead he was getting paranoid about the ponies watching the team practice. All of his top-secret plays were being studied, dissected, and criticized by the pegasi. He just knew they were sharing what they saw with the Slytherins, as he had repeatedly told the team.

Harry’s reassurances that the Guards would never do that were met with stony silence and disapproval. His opinions were suspect, now, it seemed. But at least Wood’s fears could be viewed as reasonable — if you were a paranoid Quidditch team captain and a true game fanatic. It had nothing to do with the Guards now at Hogwarts.

Truthfully, Harry felt that was an improvement over the jealous and offended attitudes shared by the rest of the school.

Harry wished he could convince his mum, and the Headmaster, to let him bring the whole team to the Burrow on Saturday and Sunday for practice. It might make things easier for him, get the team more on his side. But she had already turned it down. And with her firm, ‘No,’ he knew it wasn’t practical to go to the Headmaster.

“As far as we know, just say when.”

“Sunrise on Saturday and noon on Sunday.”

Harry stifled his groan. That was five in the morning! Meaning, he had to get up at four. He reluctantly nodded.

On the other hoof, he got to fly for at least five hours, assuming Professor McGonagall let them practice until noon. She was constantly riding Wood on preparing for his OWLS, and rarely allowed them to go beyond two days a week plus either Saturday or Sunday. And then they had to schedule around the other teams.

This coming weekend, however, was the last before a game. And they only had to share the pitch with the Slytherins. So, on Saturday, Wood had the morning and Flint, the Slytherin team captain, had the afternoon. They switched on Sunday.

“Make sure you’re on time!” Wood growled before stalking off.

Harry sighed. With the exception of Hermione, everyone at the Weasleys was on the team. So, there was no danger of them being late. They’d probably have to drag Ron from his bed, but his brothers could handle that. And they would. Happily.

He did notice, however, the oddity that was one Hufflepuff witch, de Rippe, if he remembered correctly. He’d seen her around previously, but never really paid attention. Now, however, with such open dislike and hostility around him, he could see that she acted . . . different. And that had finally caught his attention after three weeks. Probably because the incident in the forest had made him a bit paranoid.

While the other non-Gryffindors ignored him or scowled when they saw him in the last three-some weeks, she was usually neutral. That is, her expression was never one of disapproval or scorn. She smiled when others were laughing or enjoying themselves, but when they were hostile towards him she was blank-faced. And she was always to the side and in the animagi’s line-of-sight, despite being in a group, where she could watch what was happening without blocking anyone, or being blocked. She seemed especially interested in him and the fillies, and not so much the others.

And when he looked at her, she looked away and never tried to catch his eye. She did the same with his herd-mates, except Hermione and Ginny. He had caught her out of the corner of his eye watching them, frequently with a puzzled expression. And she swallowed a lot when they were hugging, or just lying beside each other, cuddling.

She gave him something to think about other than his studies and ostracization.

In the classes they had with the Hufflepuffs, she frequently was the closest of her class to him. As she had been all year, he realized, on reflection.

And she was not upset at the rings he had given his herd-mates.

He was beginning to think that there was a bit more to gift giving than he had anticipated. It’s not like he had much experience. But some of the witches in the castle seemed to attach a greater significance to those rings his herd-mates wore than the mere protection they afforded.

They had certainly changed the way they acted toward the Gryffindor Firstie animagi witches. Especially the witches and wizards from old wizard families. It was primarily from the Slytherins, as that House had more families with a traditional attitude. Even Neville had subtly changed how he acted around the five witches, being just a tad bit more formal to them when they were in public.

But de Rippe didn’t seem to care. She didn’t even seem to notice the rings. No more than any of the muggle-born or half-blood wizards did, that is.

However, she had never actually come close enough to touch or pet one of the animagi. Not in the entire year. She always hovered by the study room door, either inside or just outside in the main library.

All-in-all, considering things, she wasn’t acting like the others were. Did she want to meet him and was too shy? She wouldn’t be the first, he knew. His “boy-who-lived” reputation had generated a lot of those. But most had overcome their shyness, by now.

He would discuss things with the others and see if they knew anything he didn’t. In the meantime, he would keep an eye out for her.

She seemed to be the only student in the school who didn’t subscribe to the sudden and swift changes of opinion that swept through Hogwarts, which were always based solely on scandalous and suspect rumours.

۸-~-۸

The weekend shot by him, the Quidditch practices being a wonderful opportunity to ignore the rest of the world and just fly. Then they were in exams.

The exams, as predicted by the older students, were gruelling — long and detailed. They had to use special anti-cheating quills on their papers, and a strict time limit was imposed. Still, Harry found that all the book-walking had made remembering facts and charts rather easier. The worst parts were the hand cramps from all the writing. And the sore muscles from sitting hunched over his desk hours on end.

The exams were worse this year, was the common consensus, after the lower years compared their exams with the older years. The book-walking spell was both a blessing and a curse. It made things much easier to understand, and so the course material covered had been increased. And the exams focused more on understanding the theory behind the spells rather than in simply being able to recite the things learned by rote.

All four houses took each exam at the same time, to prevent anyone from warning their friends or siblings in other Houses and letting them get an advantage. Then they had to do practicals in Charms, Transfigurations, Herbology, Potions, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Usually on that same day. By the time dinner rolled around, they were mentally exhausted.

Making a pineapple dance had been easy, as had the mouse-into-a-snuffbox. Demonstrating the proper techniques for repotting a Devil’s Snare was a bit more difficult, what with the plant continuously trying to make a break for the outdoors. The ones handled by the animagi were especially robust. Ron’s managed to make it to the door before Professor Sprout could catch it.

Professor Snape’s class had been a bit simpler, they had all done it together. Each student had to brew the Forgetfulness potion while Snape stalked around, grading them on every step. He didn’t offer any comments during the exam, but his sneers were more than enough to get across his feelings of each student he loomed over.

Naturally, they had to do the potion entirely from memory.

In a surprise move, Neville finished his potion without melting his cauldron or ruining the potion! Even Sweetie Belle seemed to have succeeded in brewing the potion correctly. They were all congratulating the two when the changes started. In short order they had an entire First-year class of bipedal ponies in a variety of coat, mane, and tail colours not found in nature — at least nature on Earth. They had the hooves, legs, and tails of ponies with the bodies, hands, and arms of people. They had slight muzzles and large eyes, with unicorn horns just inside their hairline. With very prominent and sensitive pony ears.

The Slytherins were not pleased — well, Draco and his entourage were not pleased. “This is disgusting!” he loudly complained. He was horrified at being a “. . . lesser beast,” as he put it.

And Professor Snape was the scariest anthro-pony any of them could imagine, regardless of his soft-pink and blue colour combination. The blinding sparks bursting from his horn as he raged around the classroom were amazing to see.

He confiscated Sweetie Belle’s cauldron instead of simply vanishing the contents.

Some of the other students seemed a bit intrigued by their new forehead appendage and were attempting to cast lumos with it.

The rest were of mixed thoughts on the matter. The colourful tails and ears on both the girls and boys attracted more than a bit of attention from the upper-year students as the afternoon wore on. There seemed to be a lot of ear-scritching going on by the upper-years.

The animagi discovered that transforming into ponies and back did not change their new look.

The Unspeakables at the Weasleys were quite impressed, and several set off for Hogwarts. The changes finally wore off not too much before nine that evening.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was different from the rest. Professor Quirrell had broken out in green spots, then started violently sneezing during the written part of the exam. Quirrell had complained of hot and cold flashes as Madam Pomfrey had led him off to the Hospital Wing, leaving a Seventh-year Prefect in charge.

If not for the book-walking spell, Harry was sure he would have failed the exam. Most of the spells and techniques mentioned in it were never mentioned in class. Later, as they were finishing up, the Head Boy told them Professor Quirrell had contracted Malignalitaloptereosis while in Hogsmeade the day before. As such, he, Dexter Twycross, would be giving them the practicals immediately after the written portion.

Like the Charms’ and Transfigurations’ practicals, each student would perform the spells in a designated classroom. They would enter through one door, then leave through the other. Those who had completed the exam would not be able to pass on what they knew.

However, unlike their other classes, the students were called up in random order. “An additional step to prevent friends from warning friends,” said the Head Boy. Harry was the second called.

Dexter nodded at him as he came in. “Potter, right? The Body-Binding Curse on that dummy.” He pointed at the manikin at one end of the room.

Harry cast quickly, whipping his wand through the motions as he had so carefully practiced many times.

Dexter walked over and inspected the ropes, tested their tightness, then barely whispered a finite. Nothing happened. He nodded, and did it again, slightly louder. His eyebrows went up and he looked at Harry before turning back to the dummy and repeating himself at a normal tone. It took him five tries, each greater than the one before.

“Excellent, Mr. Potter!” He came back the desk. “Now the Severing Charm on that wooden pole.”
Harry took a deep breath and again cast quickly.

The top of the pole fell to the ground.

The Head Boy looked at the measuring stick in his hand. “Well. I don’t think we need this,” he said. “Finally, the Smokescreen Spell.”

Swathed in the smoke around him, Harry heard Dexter say. “Excellent! I believe I can safely say that your practicals are deserving of an Outstanding!”

Harry was grinning as he finited the smoke screen.

He was totally unprepared for the stupefy that hit him as the smoke cleared.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

This chapter’s Sweetie Belle potions accident brought to you by Twilight_Shimmer.

121 — Craniofacial Duplication

The Head Boy was very diligent in his testing, it appeared. The gap between students being called was six minutes or so instead of the one or two that the other professors had taken. On the one hand, that he was taking such care meant they would be fairly graded. On the other hand, they were being given close inspection, which was nerve wracking, and he might take off points for errors that might have slipped by under other circumstances. Once again, the students were grateful for the book-walking spell.

The slow testing meant those who hadn’t yet taken their test had to take lunch in the waiting room.

In any event, it was over three hours before he called Elly, leaving only the animagi and three other Gryffindors.

“De Rippe, correct?” he said, and marked a parchment on a clipboard when she nodded. He moved rather leisurely, taking his time. At first, she thought he was bored or tired, but his emotions said otherwise. He radiated mental exhaustion and despair, although nothing of either appeared in his expressions or movements. He wanted this over as soon as possible. A natural reaction, considering how long he had been at this.

But why wasn’t he hurrying things along? The contradiction between his mental anxiety and desire to hurry, and his clearly bored, slow movements set off alarms in her head. Training she had not needed until now began to resurface. She studied him carefully, watching his every move and comparing it to his mental emotions. They were definitely out of synchronization.

She took her time, and studied the room, itself. The table was in good condition, but not too good. The floor, walls, and ceiling were clean, as well, as she would expect a room cleaned by house-elves to be.

The area where the dummy was located, beside the thick wooden pole, was pristine, so that every student started with the same conditions and no unfair disadvantages.

The only blemishes were the small burn marks on the wall by the desk. They were matched by a tiny stream of soot that ran up the wall to the ceiling. But there were no signs of ash on the floor. Something had been burned, there. Something rectangular.

Now that she had noticed that, she picked up a very faint whiff of burnt oil and wood.

Taken together, it meant that something on the wall had been destroyed. A small painting, from the oil and wood smell.

That there was a smell meant it had happened this morning, after the testing had started, or the house-elves would have taken care of it. The question was, why? And was it connected to Dexter’s feelings of frustration?

She walked over to the desk. The smell as definitely stronger, there.

“Miss de Rippe? Stand over here, please.” He was a bit perturbed at her going towards the desk instead of where he was standing. He wasn’t curious, though, sounding more worried and annoyed. Again, a mismatch with the sudden feeling of hope.

She moved over to where he indicated. There was a spot on the floor where he wanted her to stand.

She completed the three tasks in under two minutes. He made notes on the parchments.

She almost asked about the destroyed painting. To see what his emotions would do. But then she realized that he would immediately remove any traces of evidence once she left. And it might be important.

As she walked out, she glanced back inside just as the door closed. He had moved to the other door and stared blankly at the wall without moving.

There were three Guards in the exit room, with several students talking quietly about their results in the tests. One Guard nodded to her. “We’re taking students back to the dorm every half-hour. The next group leaves after the next student,” she said.

Elly hesitated. She started for a chair, then stopped. Something was dramatically wrong. Dexter should have been running the testing as efficiently as possible. He had his own tests to study, for his NEWTS. The sooner he finished, the more time he would have to study. That he was wasting time was just wrong. He wasn’t even studying while he waited for the next student.

There had to be an explanation for the Head Boy’s actions, but the only one that came to mind was that he was being controlled. Someone wanted this particular test to last as long as possible. And it had something to do with a destroyed painting.

She turned and hesitated again. She would be drawing attention to herself, but she couldn’t do nothing. If she did nothing and something was wrong, she might get caught in the aftermath as they delved into what had happened and tried to determine who was involved and who was not.

By being the one to start the ball rolling, she might escape further notice.

She sighed and took a breath. The pegasus was watching her, now, her own instincts telling her something was wrong.

Elly walked up to the Guard. “Something is wrong with the Head Boy, Dexter Twycross.”

The Guard raised an eyebrow and tilted her head inquiringly.

Elly’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure the Guard could hear it. And she could taste the curiosity from the three Guards. “The test was quick, only a couple of minutes. It shouldn’t have taken more than ninety minutes — two hours, tops — to do all of us. Yet we here are, approaching four hours, and we’re still not done with all four Houses. It doesn’t make sense.”

Susan Bones looked up. “That is odd, now that you mention it. The test only took a few moments, yet the time between calling students is just over six minutes!” The Guards looked at her. “I was bored and timed it at one point,” she said as she blushed.

“Plus, Dexter’s behaving oddly,” Elly continued, “As I was leaving the room, instead of calling in the next student, he was just staring at the wall. Why would he waste so much time during the exams? At the very least he should be studying to prepare for his own tests, not staring at a wall.”

Elly deliberately hesitated, drawing the attention of the Guards, again. “And, I noticed that it smells, very faintly, like something was burned in there. But nothing in the tests involved fire.”

The unicorn walked to the door, cast a spell, then cast another, and soundlessly opened it enough to look inside. He closed it. “Sound the alarm,” he ordered. “And get the Headmaster.”

The pegasus shot out of the room.

“Please remain calm,” the unicorn said. “You are in no danger.”

Three minutes later, Professor McGonagall burst into the room. She was breathing heavily from running, despite the paint-walking spell that had greatly shortened the distance. “The Headmaster is dealing with a problem in Diagon Alley. What is wrong?”

One explanation and a powerful finite later, they learned that Harry Potter had been kidnapped almost three and a half hours ago by Professor Quirrell.

۸-_-۸

Harry jerked upright, his heart racing. He gasped. “What happened?” he blurted, looking around. He was in a dark corridor.

“I need your assistance,” Professor Quirrell said aloofly.

Harry looked over at him, startled. He wasn’t stuttering. And his voice was . . . colder, somehow. Sharper.

“Huh? Where are we?”

“That is of no consequence. Up.”

Still puzzled, Harry slowly got to his feet. “What’s going on?”

The professor guided him through a door with a hand on his robes and pointed. “Here’s a broom. Catch the key to that door’s lock.” He pointed at the door on the opposite wall.

The sounds of hundreds of wings flapping were above him. Harry looked up. He was stunned. As he stared, he realized that they weren’t birds or bats flying around up there, but keys! Keys of every size, shape, and colour imaginable.

Harry grabbed for his wand, and then realized it wasn’t there. His holster was gone. “My wand! My holster!”

Quirrell sneered at him. “Lost them, have you? How careless of you. What a pathetic wizard, you are. I don’t know why you have one, anyway. Use the broom, you ridiculous excuse for a wizard. The key is large, and silver. Very ornate. Move it!”

Harry reacted more to the tone than the words. He knew that tone. It meant “move or I will hurt you.” Vernon had been a good teacher, in that respect. Harry was half-way across the room before he started to think, again.

It was all so confusing. One moment in a testing room, the next, here. And Quirrell wasn’t acting like he usually did. He now gave the air of a competent, proud, and accomplished wizard. What was going on? What had happened to the nervous, stuttering, scared-of-his-own-shadow Professor?

As he was flying around he had more time to think. Finding the key was simple, his Seeker reflexes just kicked in and off he went. It was just like chasing the snitch, only at slower speeds on an inferior broom.

Wasn’t Quirrell supposed to be in Hospital? He looked perfectly healthy, now!

“Hurry up, boy, we haven’t all day,” Quirrell called out, sending a hex — that Harry easily dodged — to emphasize his point. The key was much harder to catch than the snitch, as it kept using the other keys as cover to hide its manoeuvres.

It was only when the wizard cast a shield blocking off half the room that Harry finally captured the prize. The other keys immediately began chasing him.

The wizard stabbed his wand and the keys trapped by the shield suddenly turned into feathers. Another stab and the keys behind Harry also turned to feathers. Harry landed and carefully held out the key, its wings struggling against his hold, to Quirrell.

“Imbecile!” snarled Quirrell, “Open the door!”

Once they were in the corridor, Harry went to leave the broom behind.

“Are you a fool? Bring it,” commanded the professor. “We might need it.”

Cowed by the Professor’s change in demeanour, Harry hurried to comply.

After a moment of walking, Harry asked, “Professor? Why are we here? Why are we doing this?”

“Ah,” said the wizard, sounding oddly pleased. “One of the great philosophical questions of all time! Why are we here? What is our purpose? Is it all an accident? Or is it some great being’s cosmic jest? Which of Platonism, Aristotelianism, Kantianism, Cynicism, Liberalism, Nihilism, or Existentialism is the answer? Or do we need to explore Cārvāka, Ājīvika, Buddhism, and Jainism to arrive at the truth?” He glanced back at Harry, “Or, as one muggle philosopher theorized, is it forty-two?

Harry stared back at him blankly.

“Oh. You mean here and now.” He sighed dejectedly. “I suppose it is too much to ask that a wizard actually be educated and intelligent.” He shook his head sadly. “You are just as useless and moronic as the rest.” He took a breath. “We are here to ensure my Master’s return! And he believes the solution is a blend of Absurdism and Existentialism. Despite time-turners and time travel, the existence of other worlds shows that free-will exists. We make our environment, and while our environment does have an impact, it does not make us.”

He sighed. “We have had some wonderful debates on the subject.”

Harry almost tripped as he skipped a step.

“He is immortal, you know,” Quirrell said in a conversational tone. “He just needs a bit of assistance in regaining material form.” The wizard stopped and stared down at Harry. “That’s why we’re here. You know, don’t you, what is being kept here? And that it can easily restore life to those who are not yet dead? Like unicorn blood, but without the drawbacks. And it removes all such existent curses when you drink the elixir. You get a whole and hale body. He will get a new body, and he will heal any damages done to mine as the first of his rewards on the road to our greatness. It is an honour to serve him.”

Harry swallowed nervously, even though his dry mouth made it difficult. Eyes wide he realized just what Quirrell was going on about. He was after the Philosopher’s Stone! For Voldemort!

His first thought was to run, but there wasn’t anywhere to run. And teleporting was prevented by the wards now around the castle. He knew he didn’t have the power to break through them.

And fighting Quirrell was suicide! Harry was just a First-year, he didn’t have a chance against an adult wizard or witch. And even less than that against his own Defence Against the Dark Arts professor! He could only hope to survive until he was rescued.

His voice quavering, he asked, “How . . . how did you get past Fluffy?”

Quirrell stared at the giant chess set before them.

“The cerberus? Once Hagrid verified it really was one, not a rune-powered illusion, a quick trip to the library fixed that problem,” he said absentmindedly.

“Oh.”

“And the vines under the hidden trap door on the wall — that was clever. A brilliant but highly flawed trap. The re-design of Devil’s Snare, one that doesn’t retreat from fire would have stymied a lesser wizard than my Master. They were easily countered with a glacius charm. If they’re frozen, they can’t move!

“Finding the hidden exit on the wall, as it was in the cerberus’ room, was tedious, however. They had already done that! Typical wizards,” he said contemptuously, “no ingenuity at all. And the magic in it just screamed, ‘here I am.’ They should have used multiple trap doors that led to a maze, in addition to the one that led to the next obstacle. Fools.”

He cast a blasting curse at the nearest chess piece. It flew apart, but then rapidly began to rebuild itself. The castles and knights shifted to point heavy-looking crossbows at them. A second attack would not go unpunished.

He frowned. “It would take too much power to simply blast through.” He didn’t take his eyes off the chess pieces. “Right. Harry fly to the door on the other side.”

Harry recognized the harsh, ‘obey or else’ tone. Sighing, he hopped onto the broom and started across the board.

Immediately, the knights, and castles oriented their crossbows on him. The pawns pulled out their swords and blocked his way.

He shot up to the ceiling, but a heavy bolt slammed into the stone, another almost simultaneously hitting beside it. The four castles and knights were firing bolts from their crossbows, which magically reloaded and shot again. They were almost like a medieval version of a machine gun.

After a moment of frantic dodging, the storm of magical bolts decreased slightly. The castles were now firing at two targets. Him and something he couldn’t see.

Even with the splitting of the attention and his seeker reflexes, he had no hope of making it across the board alive.

He quickly returned to the floor behind the chess pieces.

“So,” Quirrell said, abruptly appearing beside him, “flying is out.” He shot a spell at the floor. “And tunnelling would take far too much effort.” He glanced at the nearby knight. “I suppose we have to play, correct?”

The knight turned and nodded at him silently.

Quirrell actually smiled and seemed happy at the challenge.

The game started fast, but quickly slowed. Almost an hour into the game, the opposing bishop suddenly slid up to his knight. She swung her staff like Fred or George swinging their Quidditch bats. He was sure he was going to die as his ride exploded into shrapnel.

۸-_-۸

Harry awoke to Quirrell standing over him. He had cuts and bruises, but he wasn’t dead.

“A very clever trap,” was all Quirrell said. “But nothing my Master cannot solve.” He smiled proudly.

With difficulty, Harry mounted the knight a second time, and the second game started. Again, partway through the game, Quirrell felt it necessary to sacrifice Harry’s piece.

He groaned as he sat back up. His arm hurt abominably. He realized it was actually broken.

“A draw, this time,” Quirrell said. “Next time I will win.”

Harry tried several times to climb onto the horse, but his broken arm hampered him. Holding it close to his body didn’t help any, it seemed. He could feel tears tracking down his face.

Quirrell rolled his eyes. “It is merely broken, you wretched excuse for a wizard.” He flicked his wand.

Harry flew up and slammed down onto the horse, in front of the knight. He screamed and almost passed out from the pain in his groin.

He was barely holding on when, once more, the bishop piece took his knight with a swipe of her staff.

Harry was limping, holding his broken arm with his sore good one, as they made their way down the short corridor to the next room. Every muscle ached, and he was sure he had a concussion — things were a bit blurry around the edges, despite valiant efforts to keep his vision clear by his glasses.

Surely, someone must have noticed he was gone by now! It had been hours, he was sure, since he had been kidnapped. Based on how his stomach felt, it was well past lunch. Which meant the Defence Against the Dark Arts class practicals should have been completed and his herd-mates would be searching for him. Right?

And what about the alarm charms in the corridor?

“The alarm charms are child’s play to my Master,” the wizard said.

He must have said that last out loud.

“Not to mention that your book-walking spell made it so easy to escape Hospital.” He snickered. “A quick compulsion spell and confundus on that ineffectual, weak-minded matron was all that I needed. That and the small landscape I had in my pocket.” He chuckled “It was keyed to the landscape I levitated through the vents into the cerberus’s room.” He laughed evilly. “Another landscape was how the Head Boy, a simple-minded fool, got you to me, too.”

The troll, while smelly, was not a match to Quirrell. “That’s my specialty,” he said, “Trolls are simple to control for me.”

Harry gasped weakly. He stared up at the wizard in horror, “You let the Troll in at Halloween?”

“Naturally. Shows you how thick the Headmaster is not to have suspected me. He knows I have a special talent for controlling them.” Quirrell said.

“Unfortunately, someone showed some common sense and ordered the students to stay in the Great Room.” He glanced at Harry. “I knew that simpleton Dumbledore would have sent them all to their dorms, where, I had hoped, they would run into the Troll. And in the chaos, I would have made my way to the Cerberus and seen the next stage or two of the traps.”

He frowned as they walked past the snoring Troll, glancing at it. “Although that one was more difficult than previously, for some reason. I had chosen him because he was so easy to control, after all. But I had to expend a lot of effort to deal with him, just now.

“Well, never mind that.”

The purple flames that abruptly covered the door they had just exited were startling, as were the flames that appeared and covered the far wall. It did not take a genius to grasp that the seven potion bottles, and puzzle, on the table in the middle of the room were obviously Professor Snape’s trap. Then, the chess-set must have been Professor McGonagall’s, and the flying keys had been Professor Flitwick’s effort. The plants mentioned by Quirrell must have been Professor Sprout’s work.

He sighed dejectedly. That meant this must be the last trap before the Headmaster’s effort.

It took Quirrell only a few moments to decipher the puzzle. He tapped one bottle with his wand and duplicated it in his hand. “Here, drink this,” he ordered, handing it to Harry.

Harry did as instructed — what choice did he really have? He hoped the wizard hadn’t simply decided to give him the poison.

It was as though ice flooded through his body. He put the bottle down.

“Well, what are you waiting for,” Quirrell said acerbically.

He walked to the wall covered with black flames. He stopped and looked back at Quirrell, wondering where he should go.

Quirrell just made a hurry-up motion with his wand. Harry slammed into the wall behind the flames. He saw the black flames licking his body, but he couldn’t feel them. He stepped back a bit woozily.

What happened next was painful in the extreme. Quirrell, using his wand, wiped Harry across the black-flame covered wall, from side to side. He lifted him higher each time he completed a row until Harry passed out from the pain in his arm, now with multiple breaks.

Harry woke with a start, on the floor, and groaned in misery. Quirrell must have found the door to the next room. His robes were in tatters and his exposed skin rubbed raw. He barely noticed as Quirrell landed beside him and dropped the broom.

He must want an audience or he wouldn’t have awoken Harry.

After a few minutes, Harry awkwardly pushed himself to a sitting position and saw Quirrell walking around something. It took another few minutes for Harry to realize what it was that had captured Quirrell’s attention. The Mirror of Erised. It had been moved here.

“This mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell murmured, tapping his wand around the frame. He sighed. “Only Dumbledore could come up with something like this . . . .” He grinned savagely, “But Dumble’s in London, isn’t he? And he will suspect nothing by the time he gets back . . . .”

“But you’ve already been found out! When you took me. They must have noticed when I didn’t come out of the testing room! Or that you aren’t in hospital!”

Quirrell turned and stared at him. Then he laughed. A long, cruel laugh. “They don’t know you’re missing, not at all. They all think you’re still waiting to be tested.”

“What!?”

“My imperioused stooge is taking his time with the students. He hits each finished student with a mild confundus and a suggestion that Harry hasn’t taken the test, yet. No one will realize you’re missing until long after the test is over. Which it isn’t, yet.”

He chuckled ominously. “The Headmaster is in London dealing with a muggle-born who will only negotiate with him, and is holding hostages for ransom in one of the shops. That half-wit Madam Malkin’s, I believe. Another simple confundus. Wizards are just so simple . . . and weak!”

Harry stared at him blurrily.

“Now, shut up so I can concentrate!”

How could the test still be going? They never took more than two hours, and he was sure he had been down here that long — just based on how hungry he was!

Unless, instead of doing just three spells, as he had done, Twycross had had each student do six or seven. That would stretch it out to double or more in time. He sat, horrified. They wouldn’t think to start searching for him until his herdmates reported him missing. And if they were last?

He shuddered. The professors weren’t looking for him, they hadn’t even started!

Harry had to stall the professor. He had to keep Quirrell talking, break his concentration, prevent him from focusing on the Mirror. Something . . . anything!

“Scootaloo and Ginny saw you and Snape in the forest —” he blurted out, “He was threatening you.”

“They did, did they?” said Quirrell idly. “No matter,” he said examining the Mirror’s back closely. “Yes, Sevy thought I was acting suspicious.” He smirked. “He wanted to find out how far I’d got.” He chuckled. “He tried to frighten me — me! As though he could, somehow, be more terrifying than my Lord . . . .”

He circled back to the front of the Mirror and stared at it hungrily.

“I can see it . . . I’m giving it to my master . . . but how do I get it?”

He wasted a few more minutes circling the Mirror.

He suddenly turned and looked at the walls. “Perhaps this is a red herring? A distraction?”

He pulled out his wand and started casting. After casting at one wall, he moved to the next. And the next. And the next. Then he started casting at the ceiling, then the floor. Then he examined each of the seven columns in the room, to no avail.

Frowning, he drifted back to the Mirror.

“No, it is in here, I’m certain of it. This close, I can feel a faint trace, ever so small, of the Stone. It has something to do with this mirror. Is it inside the Mirror? But if I break it, will that release it or bury it beyond my reach?” He lightly touched the Mirror’s surface. Then slowly pressed harder until the Mirror started to tip.

Harry slowly worked his way to his feet. Maybe the Mirror would show him where the stone was hidden. After all, at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to keep the stone from Quirrell and Voldemort.

He pretended to stumble and fall. He landed some distance behind Quirrell. He almost screamed again from the pain in his arm, but he was in sight of the Mirror. Quirrell was still murmuring to himself, absorbed in his thoughts. He ignored Harry.

“What did Dumbledore do? How does this mirror work? Master! I need your help!”

At first, Harry thought he was being rhetorical in his demand. But, to his horror, a horrifying voice seemed to come right from Quirrell.

“The boy . . . the boy . . . .”

Quirrell spun to look at Harry. “Yes, of course. Potter, come here.”

Harry staggered upright, slowly, painfully. This time Quirrell moved to the side and motioned Harry forward. “Tell me, boy, what do you see?”

He moved sluggishly, exaggerating his painful movements, dragging it out, killing time.

But it was no use. Too soon, he was standing in front of the Mirror.

“Well, what do you see?” Quirrell said eagerly.

He saw himself. The figure stood there, stared back at him, then shrugged and held his empty hands out, palms up with an expression and pose of “I have nothing.” Slowly, others began to form in the Mirror. First was his mum and Spike, then the fillies, then Hermione and Ginny. Then his parents appeared.

“Well, what do you see?” Quirrell said impatiently.

Harry didn’t look at him, drinking in the sight of his family and friends. This might be the last chance he got to see them. He could feel tears spilling out of his eyes. “I see my mum, and Spike, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Ginny, Hermione . . . ,” he said breathlessly, a warm feeling in his chest.

They were standing, staring back at him with sorrow in their expressions. The three fillies were openly weeping. His mum looked furious. He could almost believe she was about to step out of the Mirror.

But the Mirror was a mere reflection of his own desires, he knew, but that didn’t make the sight any less precious to him.

He tried to memorize how they looked. In all likelihood, it would be the last time he saw them.

۸-_-۸

122 — Consequences

Harry barely noticed that his reflection had turned back into a pony and stood beside his mum. And that his reflection looked sad even as his mum hugged him tightly with her wing. The fillies tried to crowd as close as possible, offering their reassurances to the Harry in the Mirror. In the far distance, he vaguely saw a black-coloured unicorn — something was odd about its horn — slowly walking away, a tiny red something floating beside it.

Quirrell cursed. And pushed him roughly out from in front of the Mirror. “Get out of the way,” he ordered crossly.

Harry gasped and stumbled, but kept his balance. His face was cold, but he was sweating.

“I must speak to him . . . ,” the strange, but familiar voice ordered, “. . . face-to-face . . . .”

“Master,” Quirrell objected, “you are not strong enough!”

“This . . . I can do . . . .”

Harry froze in place, too scared to move.

Quirrell bent his head and started to unwrap his turban. He dropped the last of it on the floor, then slowly turned. He was completely bald.

“Harry Potter,” Quirrell said mockingly, “It is with great delight that I inform you that this is my Master, Lord Voldemort, on the back of my head.”

Harry tried to scream, but nothing came out of his mouth.

On the back of Quirrell’s head there was a face — with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. Its chalk-white colour stood in sharp contrast to Quirrell’s darker complexion. It was simply terrifying to behold.

It whispered his name haltingly.

Harry stood frozen, unable to move.

“See what you did?” the face said. “You made me shadow and vapour . . . . I must share another’s body to have form . . . but then, there are always those willing to give me their hearts and minds . . . .” Its eyes narrowed. “You know how to get to the Stone, don’t you?”

Harry didn’t hear the rest as he awkwardly ran for the door at the other end of the room. He dodged to the side as a yellowish spell shot by him to splash on the wall. He didn’t dodge the next spell, however and he tumbled painfully to the ground, wrapped in ropes.

He jerked as he suddenly awoke.

That horrible face loomed over him, and stared down. “It took me a while to decipher the Mirror . . . but it is obvious in hind-sight.” He paused a second, then smiled gruesomely. “Get it? Hind-sight?”

Harry stared at the horrible visage, too terrified to react. He heard a chuckle from Quirrell.

It rolled its eyes, “It’s quite simple really . . . . Only someone who doesn’t want to use the Stone can get it from the Mirror. . . . And you, you don’t want to use it . . . do you?”

Harry shook his head frantically.

“Good . . . good.” Then he made another horrendous smile. He leaned down, awkwardly, on one knee. He loomed over Harry, one hand on the floor as he bent backwards, until his face was all Harry could focus on.

“Once I have it, I shall become . . . you. . . . Fitting, don’t you think? . . . Me becoming the one who made me a wraith? . . . The perfect revenge. Regaining my body at your expense?”

“But they’ll search for me!” Harry blurted out desperately.

He gave a short vicious laugh. “Once I have the Stone, you and it shall be stashed somewhere far, far away. . . . No one will find you before I consume you on the summer solstice. . . . A transformed chair is taking Quirrell’s role of a sick wizard. . . . It should easily last until we return. . . . And we have the perfect alibi . . . Madam Pomfrey will swear Quirrell was there all day!” He smiled gleefully.

“And that creature you call your mum will blame Dumbledore . . . not poor, st-t-tut-t-tering and s-s-sick me. . . . It will drive a permanent wedge between her and the wizards.” His expression became grim.

“Now. . . . Where! . . . Is! . . . It!”

Harry felt Voldemort’s eyes bore into him. He tried to close his eyes, but nothing happened. The last year seemed to fly before his eyes.

There was a sudden pop, and then Quirrell flew across the room away from Harry.

“Oh, Quirrell, how could you?” came Dumbledore’s disappointed voice.

At the same time, there was a loud gasp. “Harry!” cried his mum in horror. He heard her rush to him and felt her lift his head. He could feel tears of relief start to trickle down his face as he looked up at his mum.

A moment later, the ropes disappeared. And a moment after that, he felt healing spells wash over him. They quickly healed the various aches, cuts, and bruises he had accumulated. His arm hurt abominably, but he could live with that. He was still tired, but he no longer had blurred vision while wearing his glasses.

His mum was here. They had finally realized he was missing, and where he had to be. Everything would be alright.

Harry’s mum stood over him, wings spread wide as she stared angrily at the one who had dared hurt her son. He could see flames flicking around her hooves, and the stone floor starting to redden around them.

“Quirinus,” Dumbledore said softly. “Was it really you all this time?”

Harry tried to say “He’s Voldemort!” but nothing came out of his mouth.

Voldemort was clearly in full control, as he was the one who faced the Headmaster as Quirrell regained his feet. But it was Quirrell’s voice they heard. He laughed. “Yes, yes it was me! Behold! My Master, Voldemort, has been on the back of my head all year! Right under your nose. You never suspected!” he concluded gleefully.

Voldemort’s face sneered. “Amazing what you can do with a Fidelius charm, isn’t it? Especially when you have a secret-keeper who can actually keep a secret!” he said in a taunting and sharp half-whisper.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly while his mum gasped above him. The flames on her hooves began to rise up her legs.

Watching as Quirrell’s body moved on the far side of the room, the back facing them, made Harry’s head hurt. The human body wasn’t meant to move like that. It was like watching a real-life horror movie. He shuddered.

“Surrender now, and I promise we’ll do all we can to separate and save you,” the Headmaster said steadily, holding his wand lightly at the ready.

Quirrell didn’t reply, instead he confidently launched a vicious green spell at Dumbledore, then another a split second later at Harry’s mum. They both easily dodged the spells. Watching as Quirrell somehow managed to cast spells behind his back while moving the wand in the correct patterns was terrifying.

But it was his mum that returned the spell-fire. She took to the air, a flaming vengeful pony. The floor cracked and split where she had been standing. Hoof-prints were clearly impressed into the softened rock. She was like an alicorn made not of just flames, but the sun itself. “How DARE you attack my son!” she bellowed above the roar of her flames and the flame-spell she launched. She held it steady as she moved sideways, waves of heat baking the stones in the room.

After only a few moments, Harry started sweating. A spell flew out of the flames. Apparently, Quirrell had two wands. She easily dodged it, momentarily standing on the ceiling. More spells followed, rapidly and blindly, shot out from where Harry thought Quirrell was standing. Gouges and small craters began to appear in the room, debris blasting across and falling to the floor.

Harry still on the floor, concentrated and sent a slug-vomiting hex into the fray. It was barely above the floor. Maybe he wouldn’t notice it. It wasn’t very powerful, but the more spells Voldemort had to dodge, the better it would be for his mum. And if he hit him? So much the better.

The flame-blast winked out, unlike the flames that surrounded his mum. If his mum looked like that, what would Princess Celestia be like if she was angry? Just the thought made Harry shudder.

A moment later, the shield that had protected Quirrell vanished. “Surrender or suffer the consequences!” She shouted, and launched another steady blast as he simultaneously sent two spells at them, both the sickly colour of the killing curse.

Twilight and Dumbledore dodged the spells. Dumbledore sent his own curses into the fireball that surrounded Quirrell.

Harry quickly got to his feet and moved as far from the action as he could. He needed all the time he could get to dodge a dangerous spell. In the meantime, he kept casting the slug-vomiting hex at where he thought the wizard was. The spells weren’t powerful without his wand, but they were better than nothing.

There was no finesse in his mum’s attacks, no subterfuge. Just sheer, raw power.

Voldemort, at one time, might have been able to duel them, if the stories Harry had read were not exaggerations. The wizard might have been the equal of Dumbledore or his mum. But Quirrell was just a common wizard, playing host to a possessing wraith with only limited powers. Plus, Harry hoped, he was already weakened from the possession and the spell casting earlier that day.

His opponents were well-rested, at least from a magic point of view.

Spells continued to pour in random directions from the area where Twilight directed her blasting beam. But the power in Quirrell’s spells steadily declined. That his mum’s blast was abrading the spells fired through it didn’t help the wizard any.

Quirrell tried to run, it appeared, from the way his mum manoeuvred the blasting beam around the other side of the room. The alicorn halted her spell. Quirrell was down on one knee. He held one wand now, the other he had dropped to the floor. He fumbled in a pocket and drew out a small object. He dropped it as he snatched the wand on the floor.

“No,” shouted Twilight, blasting him away. His shield kept him safe but didn’t prevent her from knocking him to the side. That left the thing on the floor outside his shield.

The object shot across the room to clatter to the floor behind her, not far from Harry. He quickly grabbed it in his magic and pulled it close. It looked like a tiny framed painting, barely a postage-stamp in size. He held it tightly in his hands. He didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was he didn’t want Voldemort to get it, again.

Voldemort snarled and launched a series of spells, most blocked by the shields from Dumbledore and Harry’s mum. The remainder splashed explosively against the walls and ceiling, showering the room with more debris, but not breaching the spells on them.

Voldemort’s attacks, while fast and furious, wielded from two wands, were steadily dropping in power.

“Give up, Quirinus, we can help you!” pleaded the Headmaster, casting primarily defensive magic, now, allowing the alicorn to concentrate on offense and occupy the wizard’s primary attention. Besides, what good would it do to send spells when he couldn’t see his target?

Quirrell suddenly screamed and dropped his wands, both hands grabbing at his head. He grimaced in pain, still screaming.

A black, smoky cloud erupted from the back of his head and fled to the far corner of the room, then swerved and headed for Harry.

“Now,” screamed Twilight. A bright purple beam came from her horn and struck the cloud. It stopped dead in the air, roiling violently. It seemed to have a face with malevolent eyes. It silently howled at being held still.

Dumbledore reached into a pocket and withdrew a box. He opened it and tapped it with his wand. Then he threw it into the air and used his wand to guide it to the cloud.

The cloud screamed in silence as the box expanded to completely cover it. Then the lid closed and the box shrank to its former size. The Headmaster used his wand to gently guide it to the floor.

The room was silent, except for the moans coming from Professor Quirrell. He laid on his side on the floor, writhing, hands clutching his face and head.

The Headmaster walked over to the box. His mum flew down, as the flames around her subsided. She was once again a purple Alicorn when she touched down on the floor.

Dumbledore bent over and picked up the box. Sighing, he started casting spells on the box. Then he placed it back in his pocket. He looked up at Harry’s mum, and nodded.

They walked over to Quirrell, as did Harry, now that the spells seemed to have stopped flying. His mum nodded her head and the wands beside the wizard flew over to hover beside her, in purple auras.

Quirrell writhed on the floor as they approached. He stopped, gasping, and looked up at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore knelt down beside the wizard. He moved his wand in a complex series of motions, then shook his head. “I’m sorry Quirinus, there’s nothing I can do for you. You’re almost completely out of magic and what little is left is haemorrhaging away at a frightful pace. There will be none left in a few moments. And we can’t get you to St. Mungos in time.”

He shook his head again and said in mild reproof, “You should never have listened to Voldemort.”

Quirrell’s mouth quirked. “I discovered Lord Voldemort as I travelled on my sabbatical. There is no good and evil, he showed me, only power, and those too weak-willed to seek it. . . . And I am not weak-willed. I have served him faithfully since then. . . .” The wizard looked away from Dumbledore for a moment. “He demands perfection. He was most displeased when I failed to acquire the Stone from Gringotts. He . . . elected to keep a . . . closer watch on me. . . . But the rewards,” his eyes sought Dumbledore’s, “the rewards I would have had if we had succeeded would have been worth the pain. . . .” His eyes drifted to the side, again. “I would have had power to nearly rival your own,” he whispered. “It was worth the gamble. It was worth the risk to seek it.”

Dumbledore sighed sadly. “And you are merely the latest in a long string of victims of his lies,” he said softly. “As much loyalty as you might have felt to him, he had none to you. He thinks only of himself. Everyone else is merely a tool, a means to an end. Look how he abandoned you, without a thought.”

Quirrell looked over at Harry and smiled wryly, which was odd given the pain he must have been in, Harry thought.

“I know. He always puts himself first. It comes from having an Existentialist Absurdist outlook on life. But I knew that. And being second to such power as he has is not a bad position to be in.”

Harry watched as the wizard’s eyes glazed over and his body stilled and stopped twitching. It took him a moment to realize that the man had died, that he was truly gone.

Dumbledore reached out and gently closed the wizard’s eyelids.

Harry blinked. Then he looked away and around the chamber they were in. Several of the columns in the room were shattered or melted, or both. Several places on the walls and floor looked as if they had flowed and pooled like molasses. And there were hoof-prints on the ceiling.

With some regret he saw that the Mirror, too, had been blasted and partially melted. While rugged, the Mirror had not been designed to turn away, unharmed, a series of magical blasts and tremendous heat.

Seeing where he stared, Dumbledore looked. “Oh, dear,” he said. He stood and went to the Mirror. He took out his wand and cast a few spells. Then he began to weave a spell. Not the simple reparo Harry expected, but a spell far more complicated and powerful. The Mirror began to fly back together. In a matter of seconds, the Mirror was once more standing tall and intact, as if it had never been harmed. And glowed with power that quickly faded.

Dumbledore’s determined expression faded into dejection as he cast another spell and read the result. He stared at the Mirror forlornly. “The Stone is gone. Restoring the Mirror, and its runes, to what it was seconds before it was destroyed simply reset it to what it was when it was made. My spell is gone.” He sighed.

“It appears the Philosopher’s Stone is . . . lost.” He turned to Harry. “Unless you have it?” he said hopefully.

Harry shook his head. “If it was in the Mirror,” he said slowly, “then neither I nor Quirrell managed to get it out.”

From the Headmaster’s heartfelt sigh as he turned from the restored Mirror, Harry concluded the Stone had been in the Mirror before its destruction.

Shaking his head, the Headmaster slowly walked to them. “I could still find traces of the Stone’s and my magic in pieces of the Mirror before I repaired it. Now, there are none. I fear it is lost forever.”

As Quirrell had said, Harry realized, destroying the Mirror placed the Stone forever out of his reach — and everyone else’s.

“Nicholas will be most unhappy with me.”

۸-~-۸

Harry sat restlessly in the bed. He was in hospital. His arm was in a simple sling, the bone healing after a sip of Skele-gro — nasty, nasty tasting stuff. Madam Pomfrey insisted he stay there until it was time to go to The Burrow, after dinner. In the meantime, the Headmaster and his mum were carefully stepping him through everything that had happened after he had been stupefied.

His mum had her head in her hands. “Of course he used the book-walking spell to bypass all of our alarms, security, and Guards.” She was sitting on a regular hospital bedside-chair. “And the fidelius is the perfect explanation for why you could never find any trace of Riddle either inside or outside the school. And I’m sure that not suspecting Quirrell was all a part of it, too.”

Dumbledore, sitting beside her in his comfortable armchair, nodded. “And the painting you took from him is a miniature landscape linked to another in the Forbidden Forest. It is far out of sight and just outside of Hogwarts’ protective charms. He could have escaped the trap at any time he desired. Fortunately, it seems, he only discovered that option when you told the staff and Guards about it last week.”

She leaned back. “And the only effective traps were the keys, the chess-set, and the Mirror of Erised.” She looked over at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked back, his eyes twinkling.

“That was the best one of them all,” she said.

“Hmm, yes,” he said. “It was quite clever, I must admit.”

“You will show me your spell, later, won’t you?” There was a touch of eagerness in her tone and expression.

“Of course, my dear, of course.”

She nodded in acknowledgement, then sighed. “He shot by my enhanced plant trap like it wasn’t even there,” she continued. “Glacius.” She shook her head ruefully. “Like the cerberus, it didn’t even slow him down when he made his move.

“And the potion alarm he got past simply by duplicating the potion bottles and not touching anything on the table.” She sighed. “And having a hostage to taste the potion before he did would have negated making them all the Draught of Living Death.”

“The traps by the staff were merely to slow him down, to give me time to arrive,” the Headmaster reminded her.

“Time which we sorely needed, it turned out,” his mum said sourly.

“No one expected him to set up a fake hostage situation in Diagon Alley to draw me away. Nor to actually kidnap a student,” the Headmaster reproved.

“Well, looking back, it certainly makes sense, doesn’t it? He wants a new body, why not use one of the students as a template? That way he doesn’t sacrifice a follower so early.” She sighed. “We’re lucky none of the traps were fatal! And that he didn’t take several students as hostages.”

He nodded again.

They sat in silence for several minutes.

“I did not expect him to be so proficient at finding and disabling the alarms in the rooms,” his mum continued, dispiritedly.

The Headmaster nodded. “Even putting a proximity alarm on the Mirror itself wouldn’t have escaped his detection and its silencing. But why should we do that when the only way in or out is through the door? Anti-teleport, anti-apparition, and anti-portkey charms were all in place, courtesy of Hogwarts. Your runes strengthened the walls, so tunnelling or blasting in from outside wouldn’t work. We should have had a warning long before he got to that room, so why bother with a last-minute alarm?”

She leaned back in her chair. “I suppose a portal would have bypassed all the traps, and then we would have needed another alarm. But if he had known how portals work, he would have avoided all the obstacles and simply taken the Mirror before we even realized he was in that room.” She looked up at Dumbledore. “Maybe we should have given the stone to Discord. He’s already immortal and he has no use for gold. He’d probably use it as a doorstop,” she said drily.

“Or just given it to Riddle in the name of Chaos,” Dumbledore said.

She sighed. “There is that. I don’t think he would, but you can never really tell with him.”

“I do believe we owe Miss de Rippe a thank you,” the Headmaster finally said.

Harry sat up a little straighter, listening.

“If she had not been as attentive as she was,” the Headmaster continued, “if she had been a little more focused on her exams, she might not have noticed anything amiss with Mr. Twycross. She is a very observant witch. We wouldn’t have discovered Mr. Potter was missing until much later. Possibly not until dinner.”

His mum shuddered. “He might have decided to simply flee with the Mirror, by then, to study it at his leisure.” She glanced at Harry, “And taken Harry with him.” She shuddered again. She stood, then leaned over and hugged him. “Celestia forbid,” she murmured in his ear. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

Harry could feel tears streaking down his cheeks. He stifled a sob. It was beginning to sink in. He really wasn’t dead. His mum had saved him, just like she had said she would.

It wasn’t as drawn-out an experience as what had led to his first hospital stay in Equestria, but it was nonetheless real. This time, he hadn’t been delirious. He had known he was facing death.

“Yes. That would have been a disaster.”

Harry looked blurrily over his mum’s shoulder at the Headmaster. “What are you going to do with . . . that?” He glanced at the old wizard’s robe-pocket, nauseated at the thought of the cube with Voldemort’s soul hidden in it.

His mum sat back in her chair and exchanged glances with Dumbledore. She sighed. “It’s a bit more complicated than you think, Harry.” She rubbed her eyes with her right hand. “Things like that have a way of coming back, like the Alicorn Amulet, even if you think you have destroyed them.”

He nodded, and wiped the tears from his face.

She smiled. “But you don’t have to worry about that, we’ll take care of this.” She leaned forward and grasped his hand. “You concentrate on getting better, and passing your History exam tomorrow.”

Harry glanced at his wand and holster on the bedside table. Quirrell had had the holster in his pocket, and used his wand to battle his mum and Dumbledore. Harry was almost afraid to touch it, now, worried he would find it tainted or stained.

She smirked. “And I know five fillies just dying to get in here to see you.” She stood.

The Headmaster also stood, and vanished his comfy armchair. “Yes, indeed,” he said in agreement.

They started to head for the door, but Dumbledore stopped and half-turned back. “Oh, and Harry? Please don’t tell everyone that we captured Voldemort, or that it was Professor Quirrell. Just say it was one of his supporters. We don’t want to cause a panic.”

Harry nodded.

They had barely stepped outside the ward when five girls and two boys rushed past them, all making a bee-line for his bed. They were followed by a stream of others from the Gryffindor dorm, with the Quidditch team in the lead. The memories of his points lost last week weren’t forgiven, but they were set aside for the moment. He had almost died, they knew.

He slumped down, pulling the covers up to his neck. Now he was really going to get it.

But deep inside he felt warm that he had friends who were actually worried about him. Friends who cared enough to come see him. Friends who were friends because of who he really was, not what he could do for them. Or to them. It was especially nice to see that he even had friends outside his herd-mates.

And his herd-mates. Just seeing them made him happy inside. They, he realized, gave true meaning to his life. Nothing was more important than protecting them and sharing his life with them.

۸-_-۸

123 — Opportunities

Princess Sparkle and Headmaster Dumbledore both stared at the cube on his desk.

“We can’t destroy it,” Albus said heavily and slowly. “As long as he has at least one horcrux left, he will survive. And come back.” It was as if he measured and weighed each word before saying it.

After a pause, Twilight said, just as heavily, “And we know that he has at least one left — Hufflepuff’s Cup.” She looked up at him.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. He returned her gaze steadily.

“But we don’t know where it is. Not even a suspicion,” she continued, slowly, thoughtfully.

“True.”

“Will the cube . . . contain him?”

“In his present state? Yes. He is cut off from the world. The runes won’t allow any magic past them, in either direction. He will exist just as he was when we captured him.”

They resumed staring at the cube. They shifted in their respective chairs as they thought.

“And, as I told Harry, we can’t just hide it. Things like that always get found and released.”

Dumbledore had to agree with her. Horrid items like this did tend to resurface in time.

“Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest place in England,” she said, thoughtfully.

“It is,” Albus said with conviction.

“And yet, he hid a horcrux here.”

He sighed and deflated slightly. “Yes, that is true,” he said glumly.

“And he managed to sneak past all of our defences.”

He shrunk back into his chair. “That, too, is true,” he murmured, even more dejected.

She looked up at him. “Gringotts is supposed to be the most secure place in England.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, most consider it so. The break-in last summer has shaken that confidence, some, though.”

She shook her head. “But that is only recently. Ten years ago? Gringotts was considered impregnable.

“That is true.”

“So, if he hid one here, the tiara, would it not make sense to hide one there?”

He nodded slowly. “There are tens of thousands of vaults.”

“He would only trust something of this importance to one of his most loyal lieutenants.”

“Most are in Azkaban.”

“Doesn’t Gringotts have a rule about storing dangerous objects in a vault?”

He slowly smiled. “Why, yes, they do, I believe.” He sat up straight. “If we brought to their attention the explosive abilities of these things, they would be very interested.” He leaned across his desk and swept the cube up in his hand. Opening his fidelius-ed drawer, he dropped the cube in it.

Twilight shuddered. “That is so weird.” She rubbed her head with her right hand. “We are so fortunate he never thought to do anything like that.” She shuddered. Then she frowned. “Although, once he was bodily destroyed, the secret would be revealed, wouldn’t it?” She looked at him.

“Perhaps.” He said softly. “Can a ghost be a fidelius secret-keeper?” He looked back at her. “I suppose it depends upon how much of a soul the ghost has.”

A slow grin crept across her face. “An experiment!” She started to wriggle in place.

Dumbledore hid a smile of his own behind his hand. He cleared his throat. “I think I shall visit Gringotts after dinner, tonight.”

She sighed, and nodded. After a moment’s contemplation, she said, “The Guards will stay here until the students leave. Any changes, now, would cause talk. The rumours in the castle are bad enough as it is. Also, there might be other followers of his, nearby, that will notice when he fails to contact them.”

He nodded. “Thank you. The less attention we bring to this problem, the better.”

After a few moments contemplation, she looked up. “Could you show me the spell you used to alter the Mirror?” she said hopefully.

He stood. “Now is as good a time as any,” he said smiling.

Not even half-a-minute later he apparated back into the room. He took the miniature Mirror out of his pocket, placed it on the floor, and restored it.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said as a parchment and feather floated off his desk.

He smiled indulgently. “I think I can manage.”

“A moment, please,” the Princess said. She transformed into an alicorn and walked around the Mirror. The quill scribbled and diagrammed almost non-stop on the parchment as it floated beside her. She carefully studied the magic that encompassed the Mirror. And how it focused on the area in front of it. Finally, she sat to one side. She looked over at him. “Can you cast it now?”

“Easily,” he said. He took a galleon out of his pocket and pointed his wand at it. He cast a spell. The coin began to glow brightly. Then he started another spell.

Twilight watched closely, switching back and forth between the Mirror and the galleon. The ink feather was almost a blur.

This one was more complex. Part way through, the galleon began to float. At the end, it disappeared.

“There,” he said. “The galleon will remain in the Mirror until someone wants it, but not to use it to light up the dark.” He returned to his desk chair.

She nodded, still focused on the Mirror. She began to frown. “Is this the exact same spell?” She looked over her shoulder at him.

He stroked his beard. “Yes, it is.” He watched her curiously. “It is actually quite simple. Only one who wants to find the item — find it, but not use it — will be able to get it, otherwise they’d just see themselves using it.”*

She turned and stared at him. “It is a bit more complex than that, though, or Quirrell would have had the Stone. He didn’t want to use it, according to Harry, only to give it to his Master.”

“Well, yes. I suppose I should say the spell is such that only one who didn’t want the Stone to be used, either by themselves or another, could get it.”

“How did you intend to retrieve the Stone?” She said, eyebrows raised.

He stroked his beard, “Simple. I don’t want to use the Stone, merely give it back to the owner, Nicolas Flamel.”

She tilted her head. “Who you know is going to use it. Thus the Mirror won’t give it to you.”

He sat there a moment. “Ah, yes, that is a bit of a conundrum, isn’t it?” He thought a moment. “I suppose I would ask a muggle-born for help to finish one of my experiments. To . . . retrieve a gem from the Mirror, so that I might return it to a friend.”

She nodded. “That would work. It would have worked for Tom, too. It’s what he tried to do with Harry, except Harry knew about the Stone’s properties.” She sighed. “Harry probably didn’t get it because deep inside he knows that if he had it he could use it to save someone’s life, so he would use it.”

Albus had to agree with her.

“But that’s not the only problem with this spell.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head inquiringly.

“Well, your spell is actually fine. It starts with ‘does the one reflected want to find and use the item?’ If the intent is ‘to use the item,’ then the Mirror locks to seeing the item in use in the Mirror and the rest of the spell is ignored.

“If the first part isn’t triggered, then it falls through to the second part. The spell checks to see if the one reflected wants to find and give the item to someone else, who they know intends to use it. If the final intent is ‘to use the item,’ then the Mirror locks to seeing the item in the Mirror, and, again, the rest of the spell is ignored.”

She glanced down at her notes. “If the first two parts aren’t triggered, then the spell checks to see if the one reflected wants to find but does not intend to use the item. If the intent is ‘not to use the item,’ then it gives them the item. But if it does give up the item, then the next time someone steps in front of the mirror the spell runs its course, displaying the item as necessary, even though the item isn’t there anymore.” She looked back up. “But you plan to remove the spell afterwards, so that’s not a problem, not really.”

“And if someone just walks in front of the Mirror, and doesn’t think of the item, nothing is supposed to happen. They never even see it.”

She looked at her notes, and sighed.

“Except something does happen.” She turned and looked at the Mirror.

He straightened up. Any unintended consequence could be a disaster in a spell.

“The problem comes up in the interaction between your spell and the Mirror.” She looked into her notes, flipping rapidly back and forth. “Here,” she looked back up, briefly. “Your spell is interfering with the main function of the Mirror, to display one’s deepest desire. In the case of someone searching for the item you put in the Mirror, your spell forces the Mirror to use their surface desires of what they want, to find and use the item. Your spell prevents — subverts — the Mirror’s only function from displaying their deepest desire! And that creates a conflict of functions. And the magic in the Mirror will try to resolve this conflict so that it can function properly, once again.”

She circled the Mirror. “This is about a hundred years old, right?”

Albus nodded.

“It has to be very powerful to slip into our minds and ferret out our desires. And it is very complex to be able to differentiate between immediate wants, mere dreams, and deep desires. Not only that, but it doesn’t alert or damage anyone in the process of getting that information.” She stopped, staring at it. “It truly is a wonderful, delicate, and seductive piece of work. With potentially nasty outcomes.” She looked at him, clearly expecting a response.

He nodded again

“Harry and the fillies told me what they saw in it. They did not see mere reflections.” She looked back at the Mirror. “They saw people moving, talking, and interacting like they were real, not static or stiff images. To be able to do that, it almost certainly has to have some form of sentience granted to it by magic, to fulfil its function. That would explain why the reflections in the Mirror can cry, laugh, and react to each other in such a life-like manner.” She circled the Mirror, again.

“Otherwise, the images would just stand there, static and unmoving. Which would hamper a major part of the Mirror’s function, to pull people into staring into its depths.” She glanced back at him.

“But your spell forces it to show only the main reflection, and maybe the image of the one they wish to give the item to. It supresses the deepest-desire image, unless finding the item is truly their deepest desire. For example, they want to use the item, but their deepest desire is to rule the world.”

She looked up at him. “Do you understand? If I don’t know about the item and stand in front of the Mirror, I see only myself. My deepest desires are not shown. But if I know what the Mirror of Erised is, I’ll be puzzled at what I don’t see. I will want to find out what is wrong with the Mirror. I want to find what is causing the problem. Which is the item and your spell. So, if I want to find the problem, I must want to find your spell, which means I want to find the item, because your spell contains the item!”

She again studied the Mirror, poking it with a hoof. “The Mirror knows I want to use the Mirror for its original purpose, and your spell with the item is in the way. But if the item is removed then the Mirror can work properly.” She turned to look at him, again.

“You see? I want to find what is causing the problem, which is the item hidden by your spell, but I don’t want to use the hidden item because I don’t even know it is there.” She paused and glanced back at the Mirror.

She set the parchment down. “And the rune spell on the Mirror will see that I want to find whatever it is that is causing the problem — the item. I don’t know exactly what the item is, but I want to find the problem. And your spell will know that I don’t want to use the item. Find and don’t use. Both conditions are met. Maybe the definition of want-to-find has to be stretched, but the enchantments on this Mirror are rather flexible. They have to be, to interpret and display your desires.” She sighed softly.

“The Mirror will give me the item because both conditions of the third choice in your spell are satisfied. That adjusting the definition of what is wanted, by overriding the need for the reflected person to know precisely about the item, would correct the conflict in functions you have created is merely a detail.”

Albus leaned back in his chair, chagrined. “Oh, dear.” He looked at the Mirror. “I do believe you might be right.” He paused musing. “The reflection would probably be laughing at me, too, delighted at upsetting my plans and at the opportunity to trap whomever was standing there. Much like the Sorting Hat sometimes laughs at me when it places a student in an unexpected House.”

He looked back at her. “Then it is very good that only someone who knows what is in the Mirror, and determined enough to make it through six puzzle rooms to reach it, would ever see it.”

The Princess nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Yes, indeed,” she said.

۸-_-۸

Elly looked up from her breakfast plate, startled, as one of the Hufflepuff prefects, Tim, and one of the Guards headed for her seat at the table. She tried to avoid Tim. He had a rather unhealthy tendency to set things on fire as a way of showing off.

Being at the end of the tables nearest the Head Table, she had noticed the Headmaster’s late arrival, but hadn’t thought much about it. It clearly was related to yesterday’s events and he had been working on that. Based on his pleased and happy emotions, it had had a satisfactory ending.

Her alert yesterday had had the effect of kicking over an ant-hill, as Guards and others had sprung into action. The Thursday afternoon exams had even been postponed. She knew Harry Potter had been kidnapped, searched for, and finally found. He had been injured, but was safe and now in the Hospital Wing. The Gryffindor table was missing him and his herd-mates, as well as Bon Bon and Lyra. The Princess had probably already returned to Equestria.

Details had been vague, but it had had something to do with the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side of the castle. The one guarded by the cerberus. Supposedly, it led to other traps. With a final goal of something quite valuable. Something linked with last summer’s Gringotts robbery.

That didn’t matter, though. What did was that the Professors and Guards were all feeling much more relaxed than they had been at any time since the Guards’ arrival. Something, at the very least, had been resolved.

Tim leaned close and said, ominously, “Come with me, please.” He stared at her intently. “The Headmaster said Princess Sparkle would like to thank you.” He swept his arm to indicate she should get up and follow him. The remains of her breakfast burst into smoke and flames with a small POP. His feeling of amusement were a contradiction to his theatrics.

“Princess Sparkle?” she gasped. She hurriedly grabbed her bag and stood.

He turned and led the way, his robes almost billowing like a certain Potion Master’s did. A few moments later, the three arrived in the small chamber off the hall the First Years had waited in back in September. Tim opened the door with an extravagant flourish. “Enter,” he intoned gravely, then chuckled in low portentous tone. Tim was more than a bit of a drama queen.

She nervously noticed that this time the chamber wasn’t empty.

Waiting for her was not only Princess Sparkle, but Harry and his herd-mates. She noted that Harry had his arm in a sling, so his injury couldn’t have been that terrible.

She barely noticed the Guards standing to one side. She did notice that Tim closed the door behind her with an unnecessarily loud bang. The Prefect remained in the main hall. Her fear that she had been discovered, unfounded as it might have been, receded as she tasted the emotions in the room. Gratitude and thankfulness filled the room. Their smiles were all genuine.

The Princess waved her closer.

Unsure of what to do, she complied, then curtsied with her head bowed.

“There is no need to do that, Miss de Rippe,” the Princess said warmly.

She straightened and just looked at the Princess.

“I want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” She suddenly stepped forward and swept the startled girl into a hug. Feelings of love, gratitude, relief, and happiness flooded through her senses. If she had been feeling peckish before, she was now approaching full!

“If not for your astute observations yesterday, and immediate reaction, I wouldn’t have my son today. For that I cannot thank you enough,” she said, not letting go of Elly.

“My son’s kidnapping was unrelated to any events in Equestria, and was, in no way, a reflection of his position there. I cannot tell you any further details on what drove the kidnapping, as those details are not mine to share at this point in time. Revealing them would provide warning to our enemies here in this world.”

She stood back, her hands on Elly’s shoulders. “Just know that the persons responsible for it intended to kill him.”

She swallowed, and her voice thickened with emotion.

“If you had delayed even a few minutes, he might not be here with us today. And you were the only one to notice anything amiss out of everyone who went through that room.”

A cloud of depression flitted across the room at that proclamation. She looked into Elly’s eyes. Elly could feel her sincerity.

“I am an alicorn, a Princess of Equestria, and Harry Potter is my son. As such, this was a direct affront to Equestria, myself, and a Prince of Equestria. The person responsible has been captured and will be punished appropriately.”

There was a feeling of grim satisfaction as she said that.

She smiled briefly. “And the person responsible for saving him shall be rewarded,” she said.

The feeling segued into happiness.

“For various reasons, including state security, I cannot publicly acknowledge the true depth of how much we owe you, but know that if there is anything Equestria can do for you, we will do it, to the best of our ability.” She again pulled the ling into a hug. “Know that you forever have a friend in Twilight Sparkle.”

Elly easily picked up the feeling of deep sincerity from the Princess.

Moments later, Elly realized she was the centre of a massive hug involving the entire family. She almost passed out from the intensity of the love and friendship poured in her direction.

Slightly drunk, and wishing she could off-load what she had so she could get more, she staggered a bit as they let go of her.

“I didn’t know anything was wrong, it just didn’t feel right,” she said, dazed.

“And that’s why you have our friendship,” declared the Princess, with another flood of emotions that Elly, regretfully, had to turn aside. “You had nothing at stake, you had nothing to gain, you didn’t have to say or do anything. You could have just said to yourself, ‘that’s odd,’ and never mentioned it. But you did.”

Princess Sparkle stepped back.

“I’ve been told you are an orphan. Do you need assistance of any kind?”

Elly blinked. “No,” she said softly. “I am well-funded from my family’s vault. I’ll be spending my hols at the family estate in Scotland.”

Princess Sparkle nodded. “Good. If you need anything, just send a note to the Embassy to my attention.” She smiled. “If you wish to visit Equestria, likewise, drop me a note. You can stay at the palace, either in Ponyville or Canterlot. And I’ll cover all your expenses.”

She stared at the woman, wide-eyed. Going to Equestria would be a total disaster! This was a disaster! She had wanted to stay as far from the ponies’ attention as she could manage. And here she was, getting personal, privileged attention from a Princess. And, glancing at the smiling and glowing-with-happiness Herd, she knew they would expect her, their new friend, to spend time with them.

Mistaking her silent dismay for something else, Princess Sparkle said, “I think we’ve overwhelmed the poor girl.” She looked around at the herd. “And isn’t there an exam you all need to go to?”

There was a loud gasp and hurried checking of rucksacks. Yesterday’s incident had postponed the History of Magic exam to today! They rushed out of the room, with their Guard escort.

Despite her desire not to attract attention, her arrival in the exam room in the middle of Harry’s Herd put her front and centre of the gossip mill.

She sighed as she set down her rucksack and Professor Lupin told them to open their scrolls and begin. No doubt, by the time dinner rolled around, the gossips would have her married and with foal as the latest in the Potter herd.

۸-~-۸

Dumbledore stood and tapped his water goblet gently, the sharp ringing tone bringing the Great Hall to an inquisitive silence. They were at the official End of Year Feast, the Monday after the exams.

Elly noticed that while Bon Bon and Lyra sat bracketing the First Year animagi, the Princess was at the Head Table with the Headmaster.

“So,” Dumbledore said, “We have once more reached the conclusion of a successful year of cramming knowledge into your empty heads. No doubt, everything you have learned will quickly drain during your brilliant summer hols, leaving your heads empty, once more, for us to refill to bursting next year.”

The students smiled or chuckled at his gentle jibe.

“To our graduating Seventh Years, we offer our sincere congratulations and wish you all long, profitable, and successful careers. I have no doubt you will bring honour to Hogwarts with your accomplishments.” He smiled genially as he looked over the seats where the seventh years were congregated.

He looked out at that the red-and-gold decorations throughout the Great Hall. A distinct colour change from the previous six years of silver-and-green at the End of Year Feast. The decorations celebrating the winning House would remain until the Hogwarts’ Express left with the students after the exam results were released.

“I congratulate Gryffindor House on winning the Quidditch Cup this year. Saturday’s Quidditch match, between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor was especially close, until the snitch made its appearance.” He looked at Harry, who blushed. Scootaloo, on his left, and Apple Bloom, on his right, bumped shoulders with him, grinning.

The cheering from the Gryffindor table was thunderous, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were only a bit less so. Oliver was so happy, he had tears down his cheeks. The Slytherins were noticeably silent. Their Quidditch team members were scowling darkly.

Professor McGonagall looked especially happy, her giant grin decidedly out of place on her normally stern face. She stroked the Quidditch trophy on the table in front of her plate lovingly. Flitwick and Sprout watched and smiled approvingly. Professor Snape looked like he had bitten into something extremely sour.

“The House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thusly: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; in third, Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six; Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two; and Gryffindor, with four hundred and eighty points.”

Again, a storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Gryffindor table.

“Yes, yes, well done, Gryffindor,” said Dumbledore warmly, smiling, his eyes twinkling. “However, certain adjustments must be made.”

Confused mumbling broke out, and Gryffindor table went unnaturally silent.

“First, to Elly de Rippe, for acute perception and timely action to prevent a tragedy, I award twenty points.”

Elly was completely surprised and stared around at her fellow Hufflepuffs, who congratulated her. It was the first time in her life she had ever been awarded points. Or even acknowledged as anything but average.

“Second, to Mr. Harry Potter,” said Dumbledore, “for pure nerve and keeping his head in disastrous circumstances, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.”

Gryffindor table applauded and cheered, but they were a bit uncertain what all this meant.

Dumbledore smiled and gazed around the Hall. “I realize these awards did not materially change the standing of the individual Houses, but I felt it was necessary to acknowledge the accomplishments of these two unusual individuals for staying true to the high standards of their Houses.

“Therefore, it is with great delight that I award the Hogwarts’ House Cup of 1991 to Gryffindor House.” With a wave of his wand, a giant House Cup appeared on a stand behind Professor McGonagall. Once again, it was a change from the previous six years when Slytherin had won the cup.

The Gryffindor table exploded into relieved cheering, stamping, and table-pounding. Even the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw celebrated the downfall of Slytherin. Slytherin House, Elly thought, no doubt were even now scheming to win back both trophies, and put the other Houses back in their proper places — behind the pure-bloods.

The noise went on for a few moments before the Headmaster was once again tapping his water goblet.

The room’s noise slowly dropped to an acceptable level, he said, “There is one more announcement to make, this one is to our graduating class.” He turned slightly, “Princess Sparkle?”

She stood and looked across the hall before focusing on the Seventh Years. “I’m sure most of you have plans on what you want to do next in your lives. However, I have something I would like you to consider.” She glanced down a moment, as if at notes. The entire school focused on what she had to say.

“The manner in which witches and wizards use magic is unusual to Equestrians, and many of the things you do with it are intriguing. For that reason I would like you all to consider working in Equestria as a part of your future. We have a deep need for teachers in all types of magic — transfigurations, charms, potions, runes, arithmancy . . . practically everything except history and astronomy. If you are more interested in doing instead of teaching, we have openings in all those fields I just mentioned, both here, on this side of the portal, and in Equestria. For more information, please speak with Bon Bon or Lyra.” The two transformed ponies stood and shyly waved their hands at the students.

She swept her gaze across the rest of the hall. “In fact, if any of you know of someone looking for new employment, tell them to drop by the Equestrian Embassy office in either Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. We would be happy to see them. Applicants should at least have an OWL in whatever field in which they want employment. NEWTS will only be required for teaching positions.” She stopped and scanned her audience.

“Also, if you, or your family, know of any squibs who might be interested in being pegasi, we are in desperate need to fill positions in weather manufacturing, manipulation, and management.” She paused and smirked. “And we have discovered that squibs, as pegasi, can use wands, if that makes a difference. The squibs aren’t as powerful as unicorns and other native Equestrians, but they can use the wands for minor spells. We will provide any needed wands and basic instruction.

“The Equestrian Embassy in Little Whinging can take applications, as well, if that would be more convenient for any interested applicants.”

The students, and Professors, stared at her, stunned into complete silence. Squibs using wands in Equestria was ground-breaking news for wizards and witches, Harry realized. And it must be something fairly recent, because his mum had never mentioned it to him.

She started to sit, but then straightened as she remembered something. “Oh, and for Fifth and Sixth Years? If your parents give their approval, we would be interested in hiring for summer employment. Again, that would be on both sides of the portal.”

The Hall burst into excited chatter.

She sat back down, as did Bon Bon and Lyra.

۸-_-۸

124 — Adjustments

Harry sighed. Apparently, it was tradition at Hogwarts that the students waited for their exams to be graded before they went home, instead of the school simply owl-mailing the results. As a result, they had to hang around for a few days. Which made the whole ‘End of Year Feast’ rather a bit of a let-down. He had thought they would be returning home the next day on the Hogwarts’ Express. Instead, it would be next Saturday, the twentieth.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” his mum said after the End of Year Feast, when they were at The Burrow. “But you really should finish out the year with your friends at the school. I know you’d rather just return home, I’d rather you did that, too.” They were in the sitting room, his mum pacing in front of the fireplace, with him and the five witches sitting on the couch or its arms watching her.

“But the other students will notice if you aren’t there. And there will be rumours, once more, that you are getting special treatment because of who you are. It will draw attention to you even more than the kidnapping did. And not in a good way.”

She sighed at his disappointed expression. “There are many reasons why I’m asking this of you. The major reason we are having you attend Hogwarts is for you to experience some of what your heritage is all about. Both your mother and father attended school here, learning this fascinating approach to magic. I think that this is a good opportunity to give you an idea of what they learned and how that made them what they were. This way, when Sirius or Remus tell you a story about your parents, you’ll know what they are talking about, and have a better understanding of them.”

He sighed and nodded. He did want to know more about his parents. Not that he didn’t love his mum, of course. But she was his mum now, they were his parents, then. From the histories he had read, and the stories he had been told, his parents had loved him just as much, if not more, than his mum. They had, after all, sacrificed their very lives to protect him.

He resolved to learn as much about his parents as possible. It was only right to do so. He owed them that, if nothing else. He couldn’t let their memory die.

She pulled him from the couch and hugged him. “Harry, there is a reason Riddle attacked your parents’ home ten years ago.” She pushed him back, holding him at arms-length, her hands on his shoulders. She looked him steadily in his eyes. “Apparently, there is a ‘true’ prophecy about you, one that was issued well before you were born. It says that you willbe the pony to destroy, or, rather, vanquish, the Dark Lord. Which everyone thinks you did ten years ago.”

The fillies sat there in shock at the revelation. Then they lunged to their feet and surrounded Harry and his mum in a group hug.

A prophecy that he had been the target that night ten years ago, just as he had been the target last week? The Dark Lord had gone to their home that night to kill him, not them? Just as he had chosen Harry out of all the students at Hogwarts last week? He had gone out of his way to kidnap Harry, when other students would have been easier to capture, and less likely to be noticed as missing. And the original reason was a prophecy made before he was born?

Ten years ago, he suddenly realized, his parents had willingly sacrificed themselves to save him. The Dark Lord’s attack on Harry had not been merely an accident of time and place. Ever since arriving back here, after getting his Hogwarts’ letter, he had had a feeling that that attack wasn’t as random as everyone had thought. His parents had known the Dark Lord wanted Harry, that the Dark Lord wanted Harry specifically. They could have stood to the side and then been safe.

It was simply incredulous to think that what had happened in his nursery was the result of anything he might have done!

He had read the stories about that night. While most followed the same narrative of when and where things had happened, they dramatically differed on the details. Some had his father in a long, dramatic, and desperate fight, with declaration, speeches, and demands. Others said he had dodged a few spells and then had been killed.

No one knew what had happened in his nursery that night, but the stories were as varied as they were many. They had only one detail that they all agreed on — his parents had died from the Killing Curse.

Knowing the Dark Lord was after him, his mother and father, most likely his mother, had done something to protect him. Something so powerful, it had done what had never happened before — reflected the killing curse back at its originator, even after his parents were dead.

And Harry had, somehow, survived the same curse. Because of what they had done.

And he knew it was true. How he knew, he couldn’t say. It was just a feeling that he had. Deep, deep inside was the feeling that, impossible as it seemed, the Dark Lord had died after casting that curse at him.

“Unfortunately, after last week, we know he is trying to come back.” His mum sighed sadly. “It doesn’t matter if the prophecy is true or not, Tom believes it is true and is acting accordingly. Which is why he did what he did ten years ago, in singling you out. And the reason was the same for last week.”

Unluckily, Harry knew, he was famous in the wizarding world for both surviving the Killing Curse and vanquishing the Dark Lord. Something his parents had done, not him. They were the ponies who had destroyed the Dark Lord, the first time.

As a baby, Harry had neither the magic nor skill to destroy such a powerful wizard. But the backwards, stupid, simple-minded, dunderheaded wizards had decided he, Harry, a baby, had beaten the Dark Lord! Imbeciles.

Not that his mum used those words to describe witches and wizards, but they were appropriate.

He couldn’t help snorting in derision at the very thought that he had beaten the Dark Lord.

Just like he hadn’t beaten the Dark Lord this time, either. It had been his mum to the rescue. And the Headmaster. He had been only moments from death.

“And now,” his mum said, “everything you do in public is scrutinized closely.”

But the belief that he had beaten the Dark Lord meant he was a symbol to the witches and wizards. He was as famous here as Princess Luna was at home!

Everypony watched and reported everything he did, just as the ponies did Luna at home. He was both praised and criticized for almost everything he did. Just like Luna. He could do no wrong, he could do no good.

He could only hope the attention would shift to somepony else quickly. And it usually did. But it always came right back to him, again and again.

She pushed him back, again, to arms-length. She studied his reactions carefully. “Never worry that I am anything but proud of what you have done, or will do, in this school. What you’re learning here is a valuable experience that the Princesses hope you can share with others when you finish it.”

He nodded, dazed, in reply.

“Right now, the Princesses are setting up an entire schooling system, for adults, to bring this knowledge and expertise to our ponies. But what you are learning here is how future generations of ponies will learn while they are colts and fillies. The insights you, and the fillies,” she had looked over at the three witches sitting nearby, “can give us will be invaluable in designing what is appropriate for us.” She had looked back at him, and dropped her arms to her sides.

“You four know what it is like in Equestria.” She looked at Harry and the fillies as they slowly sat back on the couch.

“Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo, you three know what it is like to be a pony. The wizard and witch tutors we’re bringing through do not have that understanding. They still feel and think like humans, not ponies. And that colours how they approach all their subjects. Ponies have an innate understanding of magic that the humans just can’t comprehend, simply because they aren’t using magic, like we do, from the moment they learn to walk.”

She had smiled at them. “When the Princesses asked you, Harry, to go to this school last year, they had no idea what they were asking. Nopony understood just how different magic was in this world.” She took a deep breath.

“Nor did anypony understand just how difficult a place this world is for magic users. There are a thousand times more people here than there are ponies in Equestria. And there are a hundred times more ponies than there are witches and wizards in England. So the problems are incredibly complex. And the Princesses want to do everything they can to simplify those problems.

“We have an excellent relationship with the non-magical humans. Unfortunately, their history and fear of magic is going to make it difficult to maintain that relationship. But we will still try. There is too much to share between us, that will benefit us both, to just give up.

“We want an excellent relationship with the witchkind. There is so much they can teach us about using magic in ways we never suspected. But with their secretive attitude, and disdain of anything that hasn’t been in their society for generations, it is going to be a difficult undertaking.

“Which is why we’re asking you to join the rest of your friends at Hogwarts during the day instead of just going home right now. Like it or not, your name, Harry Potter, is a symbol to these witches and wizards. And we have to take that into account with everything you do. As a result, you staying, or not staying, at Hogwarts will have an impact on what the Princesses want to do with witchkind in this world.

“And, while the Princesses would like it if you stayed here, if you decide to not return here in September, in view of what has happened this year, they have told me they will honour your decision and not mention it again.”

She pulled him up again and hugged him, joined by the fillies. “Don’t worry about the prophecy. That’s for us adults to take care of. We will deal with him, just as we did last week. If you need to be involved, we will tell you and coach you. And, above all, protect you. You’re my son, I couldn’t do less.”

“Besides, do you really want to just abandon your friends?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said softly.

“And, this gives you the opportunity to decide who you would like to come visit us in Ponyville this summer. In addition to the Weasleys and Grangers, of course.”

He just stood there for a few minutes, basking in the glow that ponies cared about him in a way no one here had ever done — except maybe his parents.

۸-~-۸

He and the Weasleys continued to floo to the school, through Dumbledore’s office, every morning and then return to The Burrow every evening after dinner. During the day, they had optional classes to attend, or they could spend their time playing or studying with their friends.

The Guards had noticed the trebuchet by the lake when they had first arrived and quickly built one of their own. Throughout the day came the steady Thunk! Splash! as the students and guards relaxed and used them. Seeing the pegasi Guards play dodge-pony with the devices had inspired a new sport of dodge-broom. Madam Pomfrey had not been pleased at the new influx of broken bones that had precipitated.

The Quidditch students didn’t care.

And right now, Harry was sitting in the stands, watching a ‘pick-up’ game of Quidditich between Ravenclaw and some off-duty pegasi Guards. Despite their unfamiliarity with the game, the pegasi were making the Ravenclaws work for every goal. At the moment, Ravenclaw was ahead by two goals.

After this game, the Hufflepuffs had scheduled their own game against a different team of pegasi.

It was all rather fun to watch, but he would have sooner gone home.

But Neville had told him that there was a protocol to inviting somepony to visit you at your home. If they were close family friends, like the Weasleys and Grangers, a simple, “come on over,” was adequate. But if you didn’t know the parents, a more formal approach was required.

He pulled a scroll and quill from his rucksack. He stared at the Guard Seeker circling high overhead. Now who would he like to see come visit this summer?

۸-~-۸

Having to take the Hogwarts’ Express back to London, and then the floo to the Embassy, instead of doing something faster and more direct, was disappointing. On the other hoof, it did give everyone a chance to say goodbye to their friends until next September.

Making matters worse, as far as he was concerned, was that both Bon Bon and Lyra insisted on traveling on the train, too. As if he had to have foalsitters at his age.

The carriages to the Hogsmeade train station were escorted by the EUP, of course, to the watching villagers’ surprise. They had known something had happened at the school two weeks ago, but details had been sorely lacking. Seeing scores of barely waist-high ponies, wearing strange golden armour and other equipment mounted on saddles, both flying and pacing the carriages left them speechless. That half of the ponies walking were unicorns merely added to the villagers’ confusion. Unicorns didn’t wear armour, they didn’t march in formation, and they certainly didn’t start a conversation with you when you rhetorically asked what was going on!

Oh, they knew about the Equestrians having pony animagi forms, and they had seen several of the students in those forms before. Not to mention that there had been that strange situation earlier in the year with the explosions coming from the forest behind the castle and a couple of ponies in the village. But there was a difference between seeing two or three students changing into animgi, and then seeing scores of stern-faced armour-wearing examples right in front of you. That they were in pony forms, now, instead of appearing as wizards and witches, was especially confusing.

Harry noticed, while waiting for his and his herdmates’ turn in the carriages, that the ponies were clearly packing up their equipment and leaving. The mess and other tents had been packed away, the weaponry emplacements were in process of being dismantled, and the various dugouts, trenches, and foxholes were being filled back in. Earth ponies were busy restoring the lawn to its original condition. By tomorrow, he knew, no pony would ever know they had been there. It was quite an accomplishment, truthfully.

To his surprise, and he really shouldn’t have been, he saw that Guards were sitting on top of the train. There were at least three on top of each car.

The trip was nowhere as bad as he had expected. There was almost a constant stream of people dropping by to say goodbye for the summer. It also let Harry, and the fillies, pass out invitations to their friends to visit Equestria. And plenty of time to peruse the wonderful photo-album that Hagrid had put together as a leaving gift.

Harry learned from Neville that the school year was timed to end so that the students would always be home before the Summer Solstice, the twenty-first, Apparently many of the more traditional wizarding families celebrated it.

It also meant Harry and the fillies would be home in time for the Summer Sun Celebration in Equestria.

Arriving in London to find his mum, Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Sirius was a pleasant surprise. He and the fillies looked forward to spending the night at their homes. And the giant party tomorrow.

۸-_-۸

Elly stared at the rock. She was in her luxuriously-furnished “sitting room” as they called it, in her newly refurbished mansion. It wasn’t in Scotland, as she had told everyone. The Goblins had talked her into this one, it was only about two hundred miles, as the Goblins had said, from London. It was far closer to the humans than she had wanted, but the price had been better than anything else.

It was equipped with a floo-connection, but that was currently closed. The floo had actually taken a lot of thought. She hadn’t wanted to select a name that might give any Equestrian a pause on hearing it. Similarly, she had wanted to acknowledge her heritage. In the end, after hours of indecision, she had decided “Locum Tenens de Rippes,” Holding Place of the Rippes, would do the job.

It wasn’t a simple name anyone could guess, which made it safer. It held nothing that might attract an Equestrian investigation. And none would ever make the connection hidden within it, which she found very satisfying.

In any event, powerful protective and mild repelling charms were up, and powered, on the mansion, itself, to keep the curious away. Both magical and not. The War Charms that the goblins had established had cost almost as much as the entire rest of the property. They were currently dormant and awaiting activation, should they ever be needed.

It would take her most of the summer to dig her escape tunnel and the preliminary storage chambers under the mansion. She had decided not to have the Goblins do any of the excavation. The fewer that knew of her hive’s existence, the better. And, she knew she would have a hive. The Mirror of Erised seemed quite certain of that, based on what she had seen in it. It might not be a traditional hive, but it would be hers.

Her new home was a combination of a non-magical estate of several hundred acres, the Riddles, and a magical family fallen on rough times, the Gaunts, another several hundred acres, totalling six hundred and seven acres. The Gaunt homestead had been abandoned for too long and the Goblins had razed it.

The caretaker’s cottage was one of several clustered near the new entrance to the combined estate. There would be room for more, if needed. The presence of a village not far away was both a bonus and detraction. It made a convenient source of food and extra labour beyond her estate, but it also brought the estate closer to the eyes of outsiders.

But the convenience of the nearby village was just a bit too enticing.

The only other problem was the graveyard on the site. She didn’t want to neglect it and have someone wonder why she was ignoring traditions. They might come to investigate! She would hire locals to clean up the location so that it no longer looked so desolate and abandoned. That she was considerate of local feeling would probably win her latitude in her dealings with them. And lull suspicion that she was an evil Equestrian monster.

Any goodwill she could establish in the area would be to her distinct advantage! Good neighbours would do a lot to deflect any questions outsiders might pose.

Or could it, perhaps, be moved to a better location — one not on her property? If it wasn’t on her property, she didn’t have to make allowances for unexpected visitors seeing things they shouldn’t.

It was the Monday after returning to London Saturday on the Hogwarts Express. She was pointedly ignoring the letter in her rucksack. It was an invitation from Harry Potter to visit Ponyville this summer.

The mere thought of it made her shudder.

The mansion was nice, she supposed, once more glancing around the room. The Goblins had expended no small amount of galleons refurbishing and furnishing it. Ten bedrooms did seem a bit too much to her, having only ever seen the average-pony houses in Canterlot, briefly, and Ponyville. But the Goblins seemed to think this was appropriate for someone with her resources, so she didn’t think any more about it.

Unfortunately, as the only ling, pony, or person in the building, it had felt rather . . . empty. Especially after living in the dorms with constant company for the last ten months. Which was why she had spent the nights in the small storage closet beside the empty wine-room’s door in the cellar. It was much cosier when she added in pillows and blankets — she had gotten spoiled at Hogwarts sleeping in a bed. And much more reminiscent of her hive back in Equestria than the huge bedrooms above.

She would have started making resin walls down there, but she had plans for a proper hive and didn’t want to waste the effort. Any room that a non-ling might see was to be left entirely alone, in that respect. She didn’t want to leave any evidence that things weren’t exactly as they appeared.

The one wall she had planned to use as an access would be carefully removed and replaced when she figured out the trick used at platform nine-and-three-quarters. It looked and acted like a wall until the right person approached it with a ticket. She wanted to tune it to only accept lings.

It was a long-term project, given her current understanding of magic. In the meantime, a rotating wall would suffice.

She had no worries about food. The Gryffindor party to celebrate winning both the Quidditch and Hogwarts’ House Cups for the first time in seven years had been a bonus she hadn’t anticipated. Three more full jars — one had started out half-full — and part of another had been added to her collection. Once more she had eleven-plus jars. More than enough to last her until December, much less September. She could even stretch it out further if she made a few trips to Madam Puddifoots Tea Shop. And that was assuming she couldn’t entice any newly-married tenants to the caretaker’s cottage.

The current caretaker was a sour old man, barely managing to keep things from falling apart. That the villagers all viewed him with suspicion was not helpful in the slightest. Suspicions of him would become suspicions of her.

Queen Mother would have disposed of him. But here, that would attract unwanted attention. It would be worth the money to send him to retirement far away. Give him a lump sum of money, a ticket to the Caribbean, and he would no longer be her problem. Perhaps buy a small cottage, there, with free rent to make sure he stayed put.

First, this morning, she had carefully licked off the love clinging to the resin-coated Stone — that had made for a nice breakfast and filled her nicely, she wouldn’t need to eat again all day, maybe two. It had then taken her only a few minutes of careful tapping with a hammer and chisel to remove the resin. The rock was now revealed in all its dubious glory.

She swept the resin aside. She would recycle it into her tunnels. Waste not, want not.

The Stone was a translucent-red in colour, longer than it was wide, roughly shaped, with odd angles and curves. It was only a bit larger than her fist. No one would ever mistake it for a gem. It just didn’t have the required clarity and shine. Nor facets.

Although, when the light hit it just right, it almost seemed to glow deep inside.

It didn’t look very impressive. It looked like an oddly-shaped piece of something broken off from a glass sculpture. If she had seen it in Equestria, she wouldn’t have looked twice. If it had been in her way, she would have kicked it out of sight without a thought.

From what she had heard from the gossips at Hogwarts, though, this was the so-called Philosopher’s Stone. An item of incalculable value. The thing that an evil wizard had kidnapped Harry Potter to get. Not that she could figure out what the pony had to do with this rock.

“You can make gold from lead with the Philosopher’s Stone,” they said. “And make a potion that will grant you longer life each time you drink it.”

She snorted. Not that she knew how to make it do either of those two things.

It did have an interesting smell, however. An enticing odour. And the feel of it was softer than a ling would expect of a rock. Both were things she had not noticed previously.

The longer she looked at it, the more she realized that it was attractive, in its own way.

She noticed a small speck of green resin on one side.

She gave it a quick lick. Her saliva should make it an easy matter to remove the offending material — it was hers, after all. To her surprise, the Stone had a taste! She frowned, and tried again. What was that taste?

It almost reminded her of how love tasted, but it wasn’t as sweet. She would have thought that some of the love in the jar had soaked through the resin — which was supposed to be impossible if she had done it right — except it had a slightly sour taste, too. It seemed to change, as she continued to lick it. It actually tasted good!

She seized a corner of it in her teeth and tentatively bit down on it. To her surprise, a tiny sliver broke off. She held it in her mouth, working it from side to side, the taste of it constantly changing. Her mouth filled with saliva and she swallowed . . . and couldn’t find the piece with her tongue anymore. It was gone.

She stared intently at the stone, and then grabbed the end in her teeth and bit down hard. There was a crack, and a tiny fingernail-shaped chip broke off. This one tasted different, spicier — like victory.

She sat the Stone back on the table and stared. Slowly, she picked it up and dropped it back in its jar, still partially filled with love. Sealing the jar closed, again, she carried it into the cellar. She carefully excavated a pocket in the wall and sealed the jar in it. She took her time and carefully blended the new surface until it looked just like every other brick. To anyone who came in and looked, it was just another brick in the wall. Completely unnoticeable unless you were a ling and searching for it.

She wandered back upstairs. Why had she taken a bite of that? Why did it feel so soft? Why did it taste so good? Why did it make her feel odd? She decided she would leave it alone for a while.
Next on her schedule today was to inspect the greenhouses and tiny village by the gate. And then wander the perimeter of her estate. That should finish off the day. And provide her with the mental map she needed for her tunnels.

۸-_-۸

125 — Investigating

In less than a year, Ponyville had dramatically changed. The population must have doubled, at least, to the colt and fillies’ surprised eyes. They spent the weekend just exploring the expanded town.

The Portal Exclusion Area now had an entire battalion of six hundred Guards assigned to it, a huge number considering the size of Ponyville. Three additional platoons, sixty-six Guards, had been directly posted to live at his mum’s castle’s new barracks. They were her personal Guards, to her dismay. She had told them to assist the local law enforcement.

The train depot had been expanded — there were now trains arriving and leaving almost every hour. Improvements included three separate sets of tracks. One was for cargo shipping, of which there appeared to be quite a bit. The second was for passengers embarking and disembarking, sometimes on two different trains at the same time. The third went to the Portal Entry Building beside Sweet Apple Acres. Harry had heard two ponies in the train station talking about something called a Roundhouse being built.

The train-station building itself had been enlarged. It now featured a spacious transfer room with five floos; two for outgoing and three for incoming travellers. There was a ticket booth, with lift gates to control access, between the two outgoing floos. The prices for the various destinations were clearly posted.

The building also had an enlarged waiting room with comfortable seating, and an all day and night luncheon counter.

Harry doubted that floo-travel to individuals’ homes and businesses would be as wide-spread as it was in wizarding England. Installing six million floos would be a massive undertaking. At a thousand installations a day, it would still take sixteen plus years. Just training enough ponies in the installation and control procedures would take years. It was far easier to set up depots. Maybe in fifty years he would start to see most businesses and homes with floos. But not now.

The cargo shipping yard was more of a huge warehouse with multiple tracks on each side. Products from England were unpacked from their inside-enlarged, pony-wagon-sized boxes and repacked into either inside-enlarged saddle-bags or into train-cars for transport elsewhere. And the reverse was done for products from Equestria to England. The train cars themselves were not expanded to prevent problems with conflicting enchantments.

New apartment buildings dotted the outside edges of Ponyville on new streets, as well as new restaurants and stores.

And a new Quidditch stadium took up one corner of the town. It was in almost constant use by pegasi teams. Some were organized, some were ad hoc.

Ponyville was no longer the sleepy little town it used to be. It was a bustling, growing boomtown, now that trade rules and commerce had entered into full swing.

۸-_-۸

It was a week later that the Weasleys were due to arrive for their three-week holiday in Equestria. Sirius, Harry, and the fillies waited impatiently just outside the Portal Dome. His mum was inside, by the Portal Tree, and with the attendant.

They all watched

Scootaloo sighed. “What’s taking so long? They said they’d be here by ten!” she groused.

Sirius laughed and shrugged. “The Weasleys are almost always arriving at the last minute. It’s nice to see some things haven’t changed in the last ten years.”

“But it’s almost ten, now!”

“Look!” Apple Bloom said excitedly, bouncing up and down as she pointed into the Dome, “thar’s Mrs. Weasley!” It was true. Harry could see a pegasus with dark red mane and tail exiting the portal, behind a blue-maned business unicorn with large saddlebags. The steady stream of ponies exiting the portal were a bit less than two-ponies apart, a celestial. Outgoing ponies were already queuing up at the rotating door beside Harry and the fillies, waiting for their turn for the next hour.

Each arriving pony stepped to the side to take off their robe and put it on a hook for an outgoing pony to use. “Oh, there’s Percy . . . Fred . . . George . . . Ginny . . . Does anyone know who that is?” Harry said. A unicorn he didn’t recognize, except for a Weasley-red mane and tail, was behind Ginny. Had one of her brothers come through? The Weasleys were all grouping together to one side, waiting for their entire family.

The blue-maned unicorn, now revealed as having a blue-green coat, and a printing-press cutie mark, was already halfway around the tree.

“And there’s Ron . . . .” Harry was astonished to see a grey unicorn with wheat blonde mane and tail collapse on top of Ron as he came through the Portal. Ron said something they couldn’t hear through the Dome and the grey unicorn tried to scramble upright. The other Weasleys surged forward to help Ron.

Immediately, nearly a dozen ponies jumped into action. The Weasleys were quickly surrounded. The ponies in the remote stations on the Dome clearly unlocked their weapons and swung them to point directly at the Weasleys. There was much shouting going on, both inside and outside the Dome. From what Harry could hear, someone had tried to sneak through the Portal, somehow. A red light was blinking on the Dome’s Entrance and the rotating door had stopped. It trapped two people and three ponies inside the two quarters that weren’t open. The travelling ponies inside the dome all stopped where they were as they were surrounded by guards.

Guards ran from the partition wall behind Harry and the fillies, and quickly took formation around the Portal Dome entrance/exit. Harry and his friends were being watched closely by two squads of three ponies.

No more ponies came through the portal to follow Ron, so there must be a way of communicating back and forth.

“What’s happening? What’s happening?” No pony answered them.

Sirius was as puzzled as they were. Harry and the fillies bounced from hoof to hoof anxiously. After about half an hour, Harry and the fillies were escorted to a locked room in the Partition Wall with a large window that looked out into a corridor. Sirius was guided into a different room. They saw that the Weasleys were similarly being escorted, as was the grey unicorn. The single unicorn had almost a dozen Guards flying and walking around him, at various distances that left him no chances of escaping.

In fact, everyone still inside the Dome, including the two people trapped by the door, were escorted to separate rooms in the Partition Wall.

His mum showed up a few minutes after they had been placed in the room.

“What’s happening? What’s happening?” they demanded, worried and crowding close to her.

She smiled, and shifted nervously. “It seems Ron had a passenger. His pet rat Scabbers?” She looked at them to make sure they were listening and understood.

“Yes?” Harry said as he nodded.

She sighed. “Turns out Scabbers was really a wizard in hiding.”

They all shrank back, their eyes wide at that statement.

His mum nodded. “We’re still checking the facts. And it’ll be a couple of days before we’re sure. But it seems that Peter Pettigrew has been hiding with the Weasleys, as a normal rat for the last ten years and some months.”

They just stared at her in disbelief. They had all seen the rat, even played with him a little bit. The thought that it really had been a wizard in hiding . . . was disgusting. Although it did explain the rat’s rather extraordinarily clean habits.

“Scabbers’s been rather anxious the last few days, after they started planning to come here. He’s tried to escape a couple of times, so they’ve been keeping him in his cage. He was in his cage, hooked to Ron’s rucksack, when they went through the portal.”

She sat down. “Unfortunately, the Weasleys are all caught up in this and are being interviewed to clear them of deliberate involvement. It’s rather clear they knew nothing about this wizard hiding with them, but we want to make sure no one can accuse them of collaboration.” She smiled. “On the other hoof, there is quite a large reward for the capture of Peter. Oh! And Sirius is being questioned to verify that this wizard really is Peter Pettigrew.”

The princess stood back up. “In the meantime, I’m afraid we need to give you interviews, as well. Not that anypony thinks you’ve done anything wrong, mind you.” She stopped and stared at Harry and the fillies, and then blinked. “Well, not anything regarding Peter, that is.” She smiled gently. “I’ve sent for Rarity, Applejack, Holiday, and Lofty. Because you’re all still in school, an adult relative must be present during the interview.” She turned to Harry.

“And since I am here already, let’s start with Harry.” She smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing bad, I promise, merely tedious.” She turned and headed for the door. Harry followed her. Just as she was about to close the door behind them, she said to the fillies. “Do try to remember as much as you can about Scabbers, but don’t discuss your stories with each other. If the stories you tell are too much alike, the interviewer will suspect you are trying to hide something when you aren’t.”

As his mum had promised, the questioning was tedious in the extreme and took most of the afternoon, with a brief break for lunch. “When did you first see Scabbers? Did he do anything unusual for a rat? Did he ever do anything to indicate he might be more than a rat? Were you ever suspicious of him? Tell me about every time you saw him.” Yeah. Really tedious. And they frequently repeated the questions in slightly different forms. Didn’t they understand him the first time? It’s not like what he said in answer would change all that much.

Still, his mum was right beside him the entire time. After it was over, she took him to a new room, where he found the fillies and Ginny waiting. Also in the room were two unicorns he had never met, although both had the Weasley-red mane and tail. One had a soft brown coat and the other pale-yellow.

Ginny was rather teary-eyed. The two stallions were consoling their sister.

“Princess Sparkle,” Ginny said, straightening. “This is my oldest brother, Bill Weasley,” she pointed to the pale-yellow stallion. “He works at Gringotts as a Curse-breaker.” Harry noted he had an earring that was a fang and wasn’t quite as scrawny as Harry had expected from someone just turned into a pony by the portal. The earring would gather him some notoriety quite quickly, here in Equestria, Harry knew. In fact, Harry was surprised the Guards had released him so soon, despite the fang!

She pointed with a wing to the brown-coated pony, who had a long shiny burn mark on one foreleg. “And this is my second-oldest brother, Charlie Weasley, who works at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary.” Charlie’s muscles stood out from a thin frame. Harry wondered how he would react upon seeing Spike.

“And this is Princess Twilight Sparkle,” she said, bowing.

Both Weasleys performed awkward bows, and stumbled a bit. “Sorry,” mumbled Charlie. “Not used to having four legs.”

“I am pleased to meet you both,” Twilight said. “And you needn’t be formal with me.” She scrunched up her face. “I hate all that formality stuff.” She smirked. “As for four legs, I’m sure the twins will be happy to give you all the exercise you need to become comfortable.” She glanced sideways at Harry. “And Harry tells me the quickest way is to stop thinking about it.”

“Ah,” said Bill, nodding. “And this?” He crossed his eyes looking up at his new horn.

What followed was a lesson in using your horn to do magic that admirably kept everypony occupied as the afternoon progressed. At regular intervals, the other members of the Weasley family showed up. By dinner time, everyone was finished. Sirius was the last, as he knew the most about what Peter had been like, and the things they should ask that no one but Peter would be able to answer. He would have to come back over the next few days to assist them in their questioning Peter.

Peter was still being grilled about every facet of his life. And the interrogation would continue tonight, by Princess Luna, while the wizard slept, Harry knew. By the time they were finished, they would have a complete picture of what the Death Eater organization had done in the past, and who the existing members might be. And Peter’s involvement.

When brewed with the proper ingredients, the Seeds of Truth had become invaluable in questioning anyone accused of a crime. It was magic itself, via the blooming flowers in the flower tray in the middle of the table, that judged if a person was truthful. Lying, except by omission, was flat out impossible.

“In addition,” Twilight explained after they were all together, “on the promise that we wouldn’t return him to the wizarding world, he has promised to tell the truth.” She snickered. “Apparently, from overhearing conversations at The Burrow and at Hogwarts, he knows that if he showed his face anywhere, he would spend the rest of his life in Azkaban.”

Based on what Harry had heard of both the Canterlot Dungeons and Azkaban, the former was much preferable to the later. From what his mum had told him, at least the Canterlot dungeons would give him a lifestyle not all that different from what he had been living at the Weasley Burrow. That is, lazing around, eating, and sleeping.

They were all pretty tired by the time they returned to the Castle, so it was a quiet, “Welcome to Equestria,” dinner at the Castle that evening, at first.

Charlie and Bill had focused on Spike as he set the table and brought out their meal. Watching their eyes bulge out the first time he came out of the kitchen with a platter had be immensely amusing. Watching their jaws drop when he greeted Twilight was equally comical. Sirius kept glancing between them and chortling at their expressions.

They had barely started dinner when Twilight apologized to the Weasleys for inconveniencing them at the Portal. Mr. Weasley had immediately apologized for causing the problem in the first place.

After several rounds of apologies, Rarity stood up and politely declared the matter settled. She then suggested, “Why not partake of the Ponyville Day Spa, tomorrow? You can join me, Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash at our regular appointment. You can relax and restore your peace of mind. And it would give you all a new appreciation of just how fine the pony form is. It’ll be my treat to welcome you to Equestria!” She glanced at Ginny and Molly, “And I’m sure you would enjoy having a professional show you how to preen your feathers.”

“Oh yes, that’s a marvellous idea,” declared Myrtle. “Can I go, too?” she aimed her question at Twilight. The former ghost clearly remembered what her trip to the spa during Christmas break had been like. And after the sparse facilities of Hogwarts, she was more than willing to be pampered! Twilight nodded, smiling.

Harry watched as Mr. and Mrs, Weasley looked uncertainly at each other. “Go on,” Myrtle urged. “You’ll definitely find it worth it.” And then regaled them with how wonderful an experience it was, something they should definitely do while here in Equestria.

“I would go, too, if I weren’t involved with a certain . . . rat,” Sirius said calmly, gritting his teeth when he said ‘rat.’ “I can tell you it is quite relaxing.”

The two Weasleys looked at each other and made faces until Mr. Weasley turned and said, “All right. We’ll give it a try.”

It took a bit more to convince the older three Weasley boys.

The twins, it turned out, had an appointment the next morning with Filthy Rich. It was regarding their earnings, so far. Plus, they had some new ideas they wanted to share. And some improvements on their Gender Gingers.

Harry didn’t bother fussing. He knew that as soon as the fillies had decided to go, that he was going to be brought along. And that protesting wouldn’t work. Not that he was really bothered, anyway.

For some reason, Sirius smiled and chuckled whenever he looked at Harry and the fillies, when they were together.

In the end, even Ron decided to join them, although for him it was the realization that his parents wouldn’t let him stay alone at the palace if everyone else was going. And he didn’t trust his brothers enough to stay with them.

۸-~-۸

The Spa trip in the morning was off to a fairly early start. They were almost late for the appointment, as was usual for the Weasleys, according to Sirius.

Harry decided, as he relaxed into the hot tub, that a quiet morning after yesterday’s excitement was just perfect. He couldn’t help but sigh as he overheard Applejack whisper to Twilight, “Just like a colt, fights against a bath until he’s in it, then you can’t get him out!” They both giggled.

At first, it had been embarrassing, though. Ron had asked what Harry and the fillies had been doing this past week. That had led to his mum telling them how, on Tuesday morning, the Cutie Mark Crusaders — unfairly, in their opinion — had been officially banned from the Ponyville Shipping Depot and Warehouse, and its environs.

“Hay!” Sweetie Belle had objected. “We apologized! And nothing was permanently destroyed or ruined, either. And we promised not to rearrange any switching and transport systems to make them more efficient.”

That had then led to Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom explaining how their Monday had gone. And how five train-cars ended up in Appleloosa, and seven others in Manehattan. And that the cars had managed to make the trips without train engines — or the correct cargo. The cargo part was, admittedly, a mistake.

“Hay! I thought that switch read ‘W’ for West. I didn’t know I was reading it upside down and it was supposed to mean Manehattan!” had objected Scootaloo. “And if that switch was west, then the other must have been east, right?”

Plus, another train car had burst into flames part-way to Fillydelphia, also without a train engine. Or cargo. An alert pegasus had seen it and put the fire out before any real damage had occurred. No one was sure exactly how that had happened, or how the car had made it that far without anypony noticing it.

“It escaped its corral all on its own because it wanted to be free,” Apple Bloom had claimed in defence. “They couldn’t prove we had anything to do with that car, but they decided to blame us, anyway.” She pouted and glared at her sister.

That grounding, at least, had been only for two days. Nothing had been damaged — at least nothing that couldn’t be easily repaired with the new reparo charm now being taught to everypony with a wand. Which was mostly the Guard, at this point.

“The simple utility of that spell guarantees that wands are going to be in every pony’s hoof,” Twilight explained. “We already have a several decades backlog.”

Harry did feel that the numerous Keep Out posters that featured their likenesses were a bit over the top. The train-station ponies were posting one every pony-length on the new chain-link fence being built around the warehouse depot.

Harry had spent the days exploring the castle, and discovering that it now had a secret passage from the entry hall to the tallest tower. And a slide from the same location to the pool. Plus, he could practice magic without anyone complaining. It hadn’t been much of a grounding, in his opinion. Thoroughly enjoyable.

Their attempt at helping out at the train station Thursday afternoon, as porters, had been quickly stopped mere minutes after they had started. The Station Manager’s brother worked as one of the managers at the Warehouse Depot. And he had been watching for the colt and four fillies. He had allowed them to help for about an hour under his, and all five of the porters, direct and close supervision. For some reason, only new ponies to Ponyville allowed them to touch their luggage.

One frail, long-time resident, Chelsea Porcelain, when she had seen them headed for her trunk — that had to weigh as much as she did, from its size — had left her walker, run to the luggage car, picked up the trunk, and ran home without looking back.

Harry hoped she hadn’t hurt herself.

And only one car had been de-railed!

Naturally, none of the four had gained a Cutie Mark to show for their efforts in any of that.

One interesting thing they did learn that week was that there was now a long, split-rail fence guarding the edge of the Everfree Forest. “Oh, yes,” his mum explained to the Weasleys as they soaked in their mud bath, “there are so many new ponies in town that we’re afraid some might wander into it, not having been told of its danger.” She sighed, “If you go there, you’ll notice the fences is about a hundred celestials away from the forest. We had to concede some space to make up for what we took away with the Portal Exclusion Zone. The fence extends for quite a distance in both directions, making it obvious that we’re giving up that land to the Forest. We’ve already seen signs that the forest has started expanding to the fence.”

All the Weasleys present looked at her as if she were mad.

She shrugged. “It’s Harmony. We took what was the Forest’s for the Portal. For balance, to maintain Harmony, we must trade what isn’t, to it.” She looked at their shocked expressions. “We must provide an outlet, otherwise we might have some unpleasant creatures making excursions into Ponyville.”

“Truly?” said Bill, shifting to look intently at her curiously.

She smiled sadly at him. “The region was created a thousand years ago in a great magical battle that laid waste to the area that makes up most of the Everfree. Incredible quantities of both good and bad magic were released, and settled into the very land. It took a while for us to notice, but when this area was created, other places calmed down and became friendlier to us.” She glanced around the room.

“Experience over the last thousand years indicates it is more than just a forest, it is an expression of wild magic. And balances all the tamed magic we ponies created. If we were to . . . completely eradicate it, hundreds of smaller versions would appear all over Equestria.”

She sipped her cup of complimentary tea. “Harmony is the balance of good and bad, not the elimination of one or the other.”

The Weasleys all sat back in contemplation.

It was nearly noon when they left the Spa, so they decided a leisurely lunch at Sugarcube Corner was an excellent idea. The building was much larger, now, and featured an outdoor dining area. Pinkie Pie was no longer the only employee.

They were worried they might not find an available table because the outside area was simply packed with customers. What was the inside like?

Pinkie popped up beside Twilight, as they dithered in the street, making everyone except the Ponyville ponies jump in shock. “Go right in!” she said gleefully. “I’ve got your table all prepared!” Twilight gave the hyper pony a quick hug and a warm smile.

“Thanks!” she said.

Then the pink pony zipped back inside.

A few minutes later, inside the café, the Weasleys were amazed to see Pinkie Pie standing beside a table roped off in one corner, with exactly the number of seats they needed.

Mr. Weasley turned to Twilight. “Did you send a message?”

She shook her head. “Nope. It’s just Pinkie Pie. Don’t think about it.”

They had no sooner arranged themselves around the table, than Pinkie returned with a tray. She began setting out muffins, slices of cake, and cider juices while dancing around the table.

“How did she know what to bring us? And so quickly, too,” Mrs. Weasley said, nibbling cautiously at a muffin. Her eyes grew wide. She leaned back and looked at the muffin. “This is delicious!” she declared.

“Pinkie’s cooking usually is.” Applejack said, with a blissful look as she ate her apple-chunk muffin. “Almost as good as Granny’s.”

It was quiet for a few minutes as everyone tucked into their meal. Almost as fast as they finished one muffin, cake-slice, or juice, Pinkie slid another in its place before they even knew she wasn’t still in the kitchen.

“Was it difficult for you to get time off from your jobs?” Twilight looked at Charlie and Bill.

The two exchanged sheepish looks, and shrugged.

“Truthfully?” said Charlie, arching his eyebrows. “When I asked my boss at the Reserve for time off to visit with my family at Princess Twilight’s Castle in Equestria, he said, ‘no,’ quite emphatically. I’m actually on payroll with orders to foster good relations with the Equestrian government and to learn what I can about the Dragons. I’m supposed to ask if I can see some of the dragons here, to assess how different they are from our dragons. And if you might know of any spells we don’t, or techniques for handling them.”

Spike fell off his chair. “Really?” he said incredulously.

Charlie smirked awkwardly. “Uh yeah. For example, you look a lot like an immature Romanian Longhorn, only purple instead of green. Most of our dragons reach maturity in three or four years, so it’s difficult to believe you’re almost eleven years old and still not grown.” He shook his head. “And I can say, so far, if you’re typical, mentally, that comparing you with our dragons is like comparing a mermaid to a bullfrog.”

Spike looked confused for a moment.

Harry put in, “Think seapony, like in your comics.”

“Oooh!” said Spike, nodding as he figured it out. “And I’m still a baby. Wait until you meet a grown-up!” He scowled. “I wouldn’t bother with the teenagers,” he muttered. He glanced out the window into the distance, obviously thinking of PeeWee.

“That is one of the things I planned to do later, ask you who I needed to talk with to secure permission,” Charlie said as he looked at Twilight hopefully.

She nodded. “I’ll have to check with Princess Celestia. I don’t know who among the dragons would be approachable. Did you bring any tribute for them?”

“Tribute?” He tilted his head questioningly.

“Oh, yes, you can’t just go up to a dragon without offering something to their hoard. They’d dismiss you out hoof,” she said.

Spike nodded. “That’s not a problem if you didn’t,” he said helpfully. “There’s plenty of gems around. I’ll show you which ones are particularly tasty.”

Charlie gave him a look that suggested he wasn’t sure if the little dragon was joking or not.

“Okaaayyyy,” Charlie said unsurely.

“We’ll discuss this more, later,” said Harry’s mum, and looked at Bill.

He ducked his head slightly and smirked. “Yeah, the same thing happened with me.” He straightened. “When I asked my boss at the current worksite, he almost threw a portkey at me to return home, with orders to tell that to the Head Goblin.” He chuckled. “The Goblins want to establish trade with Equestria, and want to send a trade delegation. I’m a scout, to see just what might be of interest and to arrange an itinerary.” He looked at Spike, then back at Twilight. “They are especially interested in the enchantable gems.”

Twilight studied him carefully, then nodded. “We will discuss that later, as well.”

They spent almost an hour at the bakery, before heading back. Just as Twilight reached the door to leave, Pinkie appeared beside her. “The surprise party for newcomers is tomorrow,” she stage-whispered.

۸-~-۸

126 — Disclosure

They returned to the castle to find the twins sitting in main sitting room, and alternately staring at a stack of gold coins and a small booklet.

“What’s that?”

One of them looked up, dazed, at Harry’s question. “Our share of the income from the Gender Gingers,” one of them said.

“When you brought us that sample made by Zecora, Mr. Rich contacted us.”

“We licensed it for a percentage of the profits.”

“We make less profit per unit, she makes a little, and we don’t have to deal with making and distributing them.”

“He set up a manufacturing centre here.”

They returned to staring at the booklet.

“And is that it?” Ron said, wonderingly, as he pointed at the coins stacked all over the table. He knew that a bit was about the same as galleon. He was staring at a fabulous amount of wealth on the table.

The rest crowded forward. They had never seen so much gold in one place.

One of the twins looked up. “That,” he said distractedly, glancing at the glittering pile of coins. “Is what Mr. Rich calls pocket money. It’s a thousand bits.”

They all gasped.

His brother shook his head. “That’s nothing. Look at this. It’s our bank account.”

“Mr Rich set it up for us to simplify things, he said.”

“Bottom number.”

“He said it was easier than carting around several wagons of bits.”

Applejack whistled, and pushed back her hat.

Rarity fainted. On the fainting couch that suddenly appeared.

Rainbow landed with a thud.

The others all stared, gobsmacked.

“Apparently,” one of the twins said, “In a society where the girls outnumber the boys, changing genders to equalize the numbers in the bedroom is quite popular.”

“He has difficulty keeping up with demand.”

“Imagine that.”

Twilight chuckled, even as she blushed beet-red at the topic. “Yes, imagine that.”

Harry noticed that Rainbow Dash and Applejack were blushing as well, and pointedly not looking at each other. Applejack was studying the floor quite intently and Dash was staring out a window whistling. And their blushes deepened each time they did glance at each other.

“And he hasn’t even started on marketing the Dragon Sneeze Sticks, Rhyming Reeds, Hiccup Hot-mints, Farting Fudges, or Butterscotch Hearts.”

The Weasley parents were exchanging wide-eyed looks.

“ ’Cor,” Ron whispered, staring wide-eyed. “You can buy the Chudley Cannons for less than that. You’ll never have to work!” His eyes glazed over. “Your own Quidditch team.” He started to drool.

That jolted the twins. “Oh, no!” said one.

“That won’t do at all,” said the other.

“We have so many other ideas!”

“And Mr. Rich liked the improved Gender Gingers we showed him.”

The two stared at each other, grins slowly growing larger.

“On the other hand, a Quidditch team would be good advertising.”

“The pegasi seemed quite taken with the game.”

“We could have two, one here and one there.”

“I’m sure some of the retired players would be delighted to teach ponies how to play the game.”

“And we could open a store in both that specializes in our stuff!”

Then they both turned to Sweetie Belle.

“Don’t’ forget, Sweetie Belle . . .”

“. . . you’re our partner in all this!”

“One third is yours!”

Sweetie Belle stared at the two twins, then at the booklet still suspended in front of the fillies. Then she imitated her sister. A lot less dramatic, no hoof to the forehead, and no swaying in place on her back two legs before tumbling gracefully onto a fainting couch. Her eyes simply rolled up and she went straight down in a faint.

The adult Weasleys looked almost ready to do the same.

Sirius started laughing, sat, then fell over sideways, and continued laughing hysterically.

Twilight just looked around, puzzled. Harry just sighed. To her, he knew, they were just bits, right?

۸-_-۸

During the week before the Grangers arrived, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, plus Ron and Ginny, discovered that you cannot make maple syrup in the summer from a walnut tree. While using a suction bellows did speed up filling the cauldron, there tended to be quite a few drips on the way. And letting go of the handle tended to squirt the accumulated sap at whomever happened to have the misfortune of standing near the spout. Which happened a good deal more frequently than any of them wanted.

Harry figured they got maybe half the collected sap into the tray. They ended up wearing most of the remainder.

And using a bigger bellows to heat the fire and boil the sap quicker did more to blow the sap out of the tray than anything else. It took two days for the non-unicorns just to get the sap out of their coats. And sap in your feathers is a real mess — even with two of them helping each pegasus.

Not to mention how it threw off their flying.

Sweetie Belle did not seem relieved that she could so easily ditch the sap by teleporting. Instead, she seemed a bit jealous of the time Harry spent helping preen Ginny and Scootaloo. The sap did have a slight sugary taste to it, so there was that, at least. The pegasi didn’t seem to mind the sap so much after the first hour.

And they only burned down a small storage shed — which the adults didn’t find out about, fortunately, or they would have been grounded. It took several casts of the reparo spell to rebuild, and left them all too exhausted to do more than soak in the Castle swimming pool the next day, and try to remove the sap.

After dinner that night, just as Harry left the dining room, he overheard Sirius say to his mum “He really is clueless, isn’t he?” Then the wizard turned pony almost barked out a laugh.

“Yes, he is,” she said.

“You know,” he said quietly — Harry turned to listen, just down the hall and out of sight.

“. . . those rings he gave the girls?”

Harry had to strain his ears. He could imagine his mum tilting her head questioningly

“In the old traditions, those rings would be considered betrothal rings.”

He heard his mum gasp. Which, fortunately, also covered his gasp of shock.

“Only a suitor would be so concerned about a witch’s safety as to give her such protection.”

Then, surprisingly, he heard his mum laugh!

“Well, they are herd-mates.” He could hear the mirth in her voice.

Sirius appeared just as amused. “Giving rings to more than one witch would normally be quite the scandal in England, you know.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open in shock. And he could almost see Sirius’ smirk.

“But the fillies have been telling anyone who asks that you Equestrians practice polygamy, herding, as you call it.”

Harry heard him shift his position.

“And Harry is their hero, so his supporters are more than willing to give him a bit of leeway. And it is legal, by your laws.” He laughed, again. “I’m sure some of the old farts are going to be jealous that he gets so many wives, out in the open, while they have to sneak around with their mistresses. Not to mention the mistresses being jealous of being able to be with their wizard in public without censure.” He sighed, contentedly. “James would be so proud of Harry!”

Harry heard him stomp his hoof.

“Not even out of First Year and he’s already proposed to five witches. And they’ve all said, ‘yes’! And they haven’t killed him for asking the others to join them — they like being in a . . . herd! He is going to be soo hen-pecked!”

He laughed again. “From what I’ve seen, it’s a good thing Hogwarts requires separate dorms for the boys and girls or they’d already be sleeping in one big bed!”

His mum snickered. “They do enough of that here!”

“And Harry doesn’t even realize!” Sirius started to laugh again. “Oblivious! Completely oblivious! Lily would rap him upside the head for being so oblivious.”

“I do hope that doesn’t mean he’s not interested in them,” his mum said worriedly. “It would break all their hearts.”

“Nah, I’ve seen the way he looks at them when he thinks they aren’t looking. He’s got it bad, he just doesn’t realize what he’s feeling.”

“True, but I still worry.”

“Bloody Dursleys!” the mercurial wizard spat out angrily. “With them as examples, he wouldn’t know a girl liked him if she walked up to him and said so!”

Harry could hear him shifting around. Harry began slowly walking down the hall, trying to be as quiet as possible. He had a lot to think over.

They liked him like that? They weren’t just being friendly? When he thought about it, he could clearly tell the difference between the way the Cutie Mark Crusaders acted around him at Hogwarts and the way other witches did. The same was true here. The fillies, Hermione, and Ginny, all acted differently than the other fillies, not merely like just friends.

And he didn’t have to choose one he liked over the others? How had he never realized that? Especially knowing that multiple-partner marriages were common. How could he be so stupid?

Did Hermione and Ginny really feel that way, too? He shook his head, befuddled. This would take some time to get sorted.

He looked back at the dining room door as he turned the corner. For a moment, he thought he saw somepony ducking back. He stopped and stared. No pony walked out. It must have been his imagination. He shook his head and headed for his room.

۸-_-۸

“You have got to be kidding me!” Harry proclaimed on seeing Big McIntosh trying to disguise himself as Apple Bloom’s fake female cousin Orchard Blossom at the Sisterhooves Social competition. Scootaloo was in hysterics. As were Ginny and Ron when Sweetie Belle clued them in. Harry and the other girls were all at the competition to support their herd-mate. Which Harry was still unsure if he should mention anything about that subject.

Big Mac had decided to masquerade as Orchard Blossom because, unfortunately, Rarity and Applejack had been called to Manehattan by the Cutie Map. Apple Bloom had been looking forward to the competition as time with her sister. And now she couldn’t participate. Hence, Big Mac’s dubious decision.

Trying to keep a straight face at Big Mac’s, no, Orchard Blossom’s mis-cues and mistakes was highly entertaining, and cringe-worthy. Still, it was good to see Big Mac and Apple Bloom laughing together at the end of it. He’d been worried her feelings had been hurt.

۸-_-۸

A week before the Weasleys were to return to England, Spike coughed up a missive during breakfast.

Catching it expertly from the air, Twilight started to read. “It’s from Princess Celestia,” Twilight said. She began to dance on her hooves. “She wants us all to come to a meeting in Canterlot this afternoon.” Her eyes grew wide and she began breathing heavily. “Why would she want to see me? Is it the Portal? Is it Hogwarts? What’s gone wrong?” She ran around the table, and stared around frantically. Her saddlebags flew in the door and plopped into place on her back. “I have to hurry!” She started out the door, only to be tackled by Harry.

“Calm down!” he ordered, as Rarity and Applejack had taught him. He started to pet her head with his magic while he clung to her side. He blocked her wings and prevented her from flying out of the room in alarm. She turned her head to look at him.

“Deep breaths!” he ordered, taking several himself to prompt her.

She blinked her eyes and stopped trying to charge out of the room.

He cautiously let go of her and started the mantra Rarity had taught him. Spike imitated him in front of her. “Breath in.” He held his hoof in front of his chest and brought it in slowly, as he took a deep breath. “Breath out,” he instructed, slowly pulling his hoof away as he exhaled. She stared at him for a moment, then sat down.

It took a few repetitions, but finally she looked up, a bit apologetically, at everypony’s surprised and puzzled expressions. “Sorry,” she said. “Sometimes I get a bit excited when Princess Celestia summons me.” She hoofed at the floor awkwardly. “It usually means there’s an emergency of some kind.”

Sirius looked around the table. “It can’t be that much of an emergency if she wants all of us. And she did say this afternoon and not as soon as possible.”

“Or even immediately,” put in Charlie.

Twilight nodded slowly. “Yes, plenty of time.” She chewed her lower lip a moment, staring out the room’s window. “We could either go now through a floo, and then wait around in Canterlot for the afternoon, or wait around here, then take the floo after lunch,” she tentatively suggested. They could tell which one she preferred.

The Grangers and adult Weasleys exchanged glances. “Maybe we could take in the sights in Canterlot while we wait?” suggested Bill.

“Oh, oh!” said Ginny, “Can we see the castle?” Myrtle and Hermione looked just as excited. The last time Myrtle had been here they had been too involved with the ball to really act like tourists.

So it was that they arrived at Canterlot’s floo-station, beside the train station, barely fifteen minutes later. They had to hold Twilight back from immediately running to the castle.

“Simmer down, thar,” Applejack said. “The princess said this afternoon! She probly has something else she’s doin’ now an’ you’d just be gittin’ in her way!”

After the obligatory security check that she really was Princess Twilight, and they were ponies, a Guard was sent ahead with word that they would be at the palace at noon.

They then spent the time until lunch seeing the sights. Harry and the fillies had already seen them before, but it was fun watching newcomers’ reactions to the many beautiful things around the city. And the city itself.

Ponyville had accustomed them to seeing crowds of ponies, but there was no preparing them for the actual numbers they now saw. The adults knew that only the World Quidditch matches back home could compare in numbers, and that was for only a few days. This was an entire, permanent city of magical and cute ponies that clearly out-numbered all of England’s wizards and witches. And it was built into the side of a mountain!

Even the Grangers were amazed at the sight.

The castle left the newcomers speechless. While the Ministry was opulently appointed, it couldn’t hold a candle to Castle Canterlot, marble gleaming in the bright sun, with its huge hallways, stained-glass windows, and bustling, happy workers. The Guards posted everywhere were also an eye-catcher. As were the random security checks.

They had barely entered when the major domo, and a palace aide, trotted up and bowed.

“Princess Sparkle, Prince Harry, Princesses Celestia and Luna request you attend them in the Royal Family Dining Room for lunch,” the major domo said. “Sharp Ear,” he glanced sideways at his companion, “will show your guests to the Green Dining Room. The meeting will take place in the Green Reception Room afterwards, at one.”

Sharp Ear straightened and started down the hall, with a glance to make sure the others were following him.

“I hope you enjoy the cuisine. It’s made by the best chefs in the country,” the major domo said proudly as Myrtle, Sirius, the Grangers, and the Weasleys passed him. “If you have any questions about anything, feel free to ask Sharp Ear.”

A few minutes later, led by their guide, Harry and his mum walked into the dining room to find Princess Celestia already seated. And, to their surprise, so was Princess Luna.

“It is good to see you, my most faithful student,” Princess Celestia said warmly, and smiled broadly. Princess Luna nodded her agreement as she put back her cup of tea. Or was it coffee?

Whatever the emergency was, if there was an emergency, Harry knew it couldn’t be all that serious. Except, if it wasn’t an emergency, why was Princess Luna here?

“What’s wrong?” his mum said anxiously, prancing to the table. “Is it the Portal? Has somepony else tried to sneak through? Are the Griffons upset that we waited so long to notify them? Are the dragons upset with Charlie Weasley’s questions?”

Harry nervously followed more slowly in her wake. He’d rather be with the fillies and the others than in here. He eyed the two princesses cautiously.

“Nothing of the sort, my dear Twilight,” Celestia said soothingly. “We actually wanted to speak with Harry.” She looked over at him, exuding calm and warmth, and her sister copied her.

Harry almost bolted from the room, shrinking back a little on his rear hooves, and crouching slightly for better traction in a sprinting start, futile thought it might be.

Celestia smirked. “You have done nothing wrong, little colt. We wanted to thank you for what you have done for Us this last year at Hogwarts. Your attendance at that school has taught us a great deal about the world on the other side of the portal. If you had stayed in Ponyville, We fear We, and the rest of Equestria, would have found Ourselves at a severe disadvantage when the witches and wizards revealed themselves to Us. There is much of importance that they have hidden from the non-magicals.”

“We would have blundered into a situation that was very dangerous,” Luna stated bluntly.

“When you and Twilight first went through the portal, all We knew about these witches was that they had a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, headed by an individual named Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, as I’m sure you remember.” Celestia continued. “He, apparently, based on the letter, was also a member of the Order of Merlin, a First Class, a Grand Sorcerer, a Chief Warlock, a Supreme Mugwump, and International Confederation of Wizards. No idea what any of those really meant, at the time.”

She sipped from her cup as Twilight and Harry slowly took places at the table. Harry made sure his mum was between him and the Princesses.

“However, the mention of an International Confederation implied at least some type of organization. That it is international means there is a national government. What it did and how it worked was unknown,” Luna said, before taking a bite of her dandelion sandwich.

“All of this conjecture was based on a single letter delivered by an owl. An owl!” Celestia shook her head as his mum nodded.

“On the other hoof, We knew quite a lot about the non-magical humans and how they conducted their governmental affairs, trade, and society in general — thanks to you and your World Almanac.” Celestia nodded to Harry and smiled gratefully. “The book was a tremendous help in that respect. And, we noted, it made no mention of a magically-oriented society.”

“That was Our first warning,” Luna interjected.

“The humans are a lot like Griffons — predators, as We could see from the crime statistics and numerous wars reported in the almanac. Which seem to mirror the Griffonstone society to some degree. Only the humans are more socially organized and less aggressive individually.

“The humans have hundreds of nations, and every type of government possible. Some We had never imagined!” she said admiringly. “Fortunately, the nation in which the Portal resides, England, appeared a peaceful one and seemed friendly to outsiders — by their standards. So We were cautiously optimistic.

“We wished to explore the possibilities of trade with the humans. Their telephone, television, computer, transportation, and manufacturing industries were true eye-openers. And their advancements in physics, math, and chemistry were well worth examining. All leading to possible innovations in our own world.”

Harry frowned, listening closely. “But what about the other portal, the one Twilight went through when that mare stole her crown?”

The princess shook her head. “It opens only for three days every two and a half years, our time, and once every ten months for three days, their time. Far too long a gap to establish reliable trade with their world. Plus, the time differential would be a major problem. Just ordering and getting books would take longer than three days. And that would have to wait until after we had exchanged our bits for their currency, which, itself would take at least a day or two.”

“Plus, it would take years just to get the local authorities and experts to believe that it wasn’t all an elaborate hoax. And We could not, in good conscience, order Our little ponies into a situation where they had no backup for such long periods of time while separating them from their loved ones. Or giving the locals the appearance of an invasion.” She sighed. “And the last time we looked through the portal, three hundred and fifty years ago, our technologies were comparable.” She shook her head.

“Setting that aside, We decided to keep the existence of this Portal, and Equestria, a secret from these witches and wizards until We understood a bit more about them and their place in the world you came from.” She gave Harry a steady look, then turned to her meal. After a moment, she continued. “That there was virtually no mention of a society of magic users, even as fables, in the non-magical human books We had imported and read in those first few days, made Us even more cautious. Would they be a threat to you, Harry, or Us?

“Fortunately, Minerva McGonagall showed up in reply to the letter you and Twilight sent. The Ministry of Magic, from what she said, governs the English witchkind, and is primarily interested in protecting their secrecy from the ‘muggles,’ those without magic. You may not realize it, but practically everything the Ministry does is aimed at that goal. Their primary laws and regulations are all framed with the goal to keep their society a secret — not international relations or actually governing their people.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“They have developed many spells to facilitate that goal. They treat the non-magicals as annoying and bumbling beasts. Some witches even go as far as to completely ignore the non-magicals, and consider them of little consequence, as if they were mere animals.”

Luna snorted and shook her head. “It is never a good idea to ignore a potential threat, or underestimate a potential foe. And the whole reason for their hiding was fear of how they would be destroyed if they weren’t hidden for these . . . inconsequential . . . creatures.”

“This was amply illustrated by Twilight and her friends visiting the Weasley family home, at Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore’s behest. That family’s ignorance of the simplest non-magical tools nearly matched the Granger’s ignorance of magic. And their condescending attitude toward non-witchkind was clearly visible.

“Chief Warlock Dumbledore knew of Our non-English origins. His reactions were quite informative. That he did not follow-up on that first meeting with Princess Sparkle with more was puzzling. It was very interesting that he failed to contact anyone else in his government for them to contact Us. Or, if he did, they made no attempt to continue any communications.”

“That was Our second warning,” put in Luna.

“Based on what We learned from the Weasleys’, and others, in our first weeks of contact, mainly their attitudes towards non-magical beings and non-humans, We were very wary. Until We learned more of these witches, We did not want to reveal Our true origins, or the portal. They might decide we were not worthy of being treated as equals.”

Luna nodded. And picked up the explanation so her sister could eat. “Ignoring the non-magicals and trading only with witchkind, about whom We knew very little at the time, would make Us negligent in Our duties. Especially as the witches seemed stuck at least a hundred years behind in societal and technical development compared to the non-magicals. It made far more sense to contact the non-magicals, as they seemed to have more to offer in the way of trade goods and knowledge.

“We decided to continue our plans for an Embassy with the non-magical government of the United Kingdom. And, in view of the magicals’ desire for secrecy, officially, We would simply pretend that there were no witches or wizards. If anyone were to see any signs of magic being used, they could assume it as being ours. We could do no less while obeying the strictures of their International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. By claiming it as Ours, We honoured their law and protected them from exposure while still pursuing Our own goals without impediment.

“Furthermore, unlike the non-magicals, the witches and wizards have no office for Us to contact as a nation. From what We could gather, after reading many of their books on the subject, the only department to deal with non-English witchkind is the Department of International Magical Cooperation. It works with the magical governments of other countries to set standards for international trade, interpret international magical laws, and work with the Department of Magical Games and Sports. All these departments work directly with their counterparts in the other nations.

“While We wanted to explore trade with witchkind, at this juncture We were still learning what they had to offer and what they might want from Us. Trying to establish standards before We even knew what Our little ponies wanted to trade was silly. Sports was also an interesting area to explore, but We were definitely not at a level where We wanted to send sports teams back and forth through the portal, so that office, too, could not help Us.

“There simply isn’t a way to actually meet with the Ministry of Magic in an official capacity outside of those areas.

“Attempts by our wizard solicitor at direct communication with the Minister of Magic were rebuffed, just as they were in the non-magical government. Having no official standing or powerful sponsors meant they dismissed Our requests for a meeting. The humans are quite like dragons in that respect. Both governments did offer to set an appointment in the next year, with the proviso that it might be cancelled should something more important show up. However, unlike the non-magicals, the witches in the Ministry of Magic gave heavy hints that anything would be more important.”

“That Chief Warlock Dumbledore did not step forward and offer his assistance was Our Third Warning,” Luna said dryly.

“The International Confederation of Wizards was also problematic — one had to already have a contact with the ICW to approach it! If you weren’t invited, you couldn’t even find them!

“But the books we acquired were quite emphatic about how insular witchkind is. And based on the various Dark Lords that We read about, we decided to withhold information until We had a better understanding of the current political climate. Which we discovered was not very friendly towards non-English, non-magical, non-human beings. If they treated half-humans so coldly, how would they treat us, as complete aliens?” She snorted in disgust.

“In fact, We worried that when witchkind learned of our goals, they might react violently,” said Celestia.

“Which they did when Miss Skeeter announced her visit to Equestria in their newspaper,” Luna said dryly. “Fortunately, Prince Blueblood was able to forestall any actual bloodshed, although a few spells were tossed around. Witchkind’s very arrogance prevented any real conflict. They simply could not conceive that anyone would actually be able to resist them.”

She looked at Harry significantly. “With your help, we were able to prepare the battlefield adequately beforehand.”

Harry stared at the two rulers, appalled, his mouth hanging open. There had been a magical battle between Equestria and the Ministry?

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

Remember, the average income for an Englishman in 1992 was about £20,000 a year. With Gold at £200 a troy ounce at the time, that means the average wizard earned about 100 galleons a year. (Or else they would all live like muggles to take advantage of the cheap prices for food, rent, etc.) Which gives the Equestrian “bit” quite the buying power in England, when an apple costs only a bit!

127 — Happy For Now

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1 — The Great Escape, Pt. 1

Author's Note

I have been told the first two chapters are a bit over-the-top on how Harry was/is treated by the Dursleys, and isn't supported by canon as presented in the Harry Potter books. While this story deviates from canon portrayal of the Dursleys, I believe it was necessary in order to provide the impetus for Harry to end up where he does. The abuse is mostly described after-the-fact, and is implied rather than shown. But some people still take offense. Please be warned.

For those unfamiliar with metric/Imperial, here is a quick cheat: a meter is 3-inches longer than a yard, so when you see one, just use the one you are familiar with. For short distances, it won't make a difference (we are not doing rocket science here). A foot is 1/3 of a yard, so about 1/3 of a meter (30.48cm, actually). Six inches is 15cm. A mile is 1.6 km, so 1 km is about 2/3's of a mile.

And if you notice a mistake, please tell me. It is never too late to fix a mistake.

1 — The Great Escape, Pt. 1

Dudley landed one last kick on Harry’s chest. “There,” he said with deep satisfaction, “Next time you’ll think twice before snitching to the clerk I snuck that lady’s fiver from her purse, won’t you?”

Harry gritted his teeth and tried to breathe as little as possible. Everything hurt just soo much.

A voice he didn’t recognize said, “Is that the best you can do? What a bunch of tossers.”

“Oi!” Dudley said. “He deserved it, ratting me out to that clerk. I think we did pretty good!”

“Yeah,” came the agreement from his two best pals.

The man, it had to be a man, his voice was too low to be a boy, said, “That’s not how ya give a beating! Look at you. You’re all breathing hard! You wasted too much time and energy in this.”

Of course he wasn’t doing anything to help Harry. The first time an adult sees Dudley’s gang in action and he wants to help them! Harry hated his life.

“Wot? You know a better way?” Dudley said cautiously, not quite trusting that this stranger who had caught them red-handed wasn’t going to start yelling for the bobbies.

“Sure do,” the stranger replied cockily. A pause, then “Wanna know?”

After a brief moment in which Harry could envision the three boys looking at each other came the answer, “Yeah.”

“Okay, you two pick him up.”

Harry felt Piers and Malcolm lift him to his feet, not that he could stand very well.

“Keep a good grip boys, don’t drop him. You.”

“Me?” came Dudley’s voice.

“Yeah. Make a fist, and hit him right here.”

Harry felt a finger poke him just below his ribs.

“Not hard, just a good solid hit.”

Harry tried to brace himself, but it was no use. The blow, when it came, took all of his air out of his lungs. He would have fallen if not for the two holding him. He tried to gasp, his mouth wide open, but couldn’t get any air. It felt like he was drowning and unable to breathe.

Dudley gave a sick sounding laugh, “Lookit his face! He looks like he’s a fish with his eyes popped out and his mouth opening and closing!”

“That’s the solar plexus. Hit someone there and they lose all their air. They can’t breathe. They’re completely at your mercy. Ya see, the lungs drop down below the ribs and hitting that spot forces them closed, pushing out ALL their air. And because the insides of the lungs are wet and sticky, they stay stuck together, it takes a long time, several minutes, before they come apart properly and he can breathe normally.”

“Now, knee him right there, as hard as you can.”

Pain exploded from his groin. He couldn’t even yell in pain, all that came out was a squeak.

“Did you hear that?” Dudley said excitedly. “He squeaked just like a mouse does when I stomp on it!”

“Yeah,” came the man’s voice. “The advantage of hitting him the solar plexus first is that he can’t call for help.” They all laughed. “Now the next target is right here.”

Harry felt a touch on his side towards the back.

“That’s the kidneys zone, one on each side. It’s kinda hard to hit ’cause you gotta angle up a bit as they’re somewhat protected by the ribs. Now, for most people it’s merely painful as hell to get hit there. But this guy, he’s already softened up. A solid hit there and he’ll piss his trousers for ya”

“Really?” came Dudley’s disbelieving voice, followed an instant later by a wave of pain from his side. His trousers suddenly felt warm and wet.

“Cor! That’s cool!”

“Okay, now you try it.”

“Me?” Polkiss said.

Harry felt them shuffle around as Dudley replaced Polkiss in holding him up. He passed out before Polkiss could get to hitting his kidneys.

He came to lying on the ground, face in the dirt. “. . . so if you’re interested I’ll be here next week and we can talk some more about me gang and you joining.” The man laughed, “Maybe even get in a little practice if yer cousin here shows up. Welp, that’s enough for today. Don’t whale on the kidneys or bollocks too much or you’ll put him in hospital for weeks. Ya rupture a kidney and the constables take a right serious look for ya. And the bollocks? Well, too much on them and he’ll never have to worry about kids!”

Dudley laughed, “My folks would appreciate that!” He felt a foot kick him on the inside of his thigh, fortunately missing the target Dudley wanted.

Harry could hear some grumbling from the others, but the two holding him let him drop to the ground.

“And now what?” asked the man. “You just leave him here? Aren’t you worried he’ll tell someone you beat him up?”

Dudley laughed. “Naw. I’ll just tell my folks that he had a falling out with his gang and they beat him up. He knows better than to say different. My folks never believe anything he says.” He laughed again. “If’n Harry said the sky was blue my folks would call him a liar and lock ’im in his cupboard!

The man laughed as well. Then he said, “Well, tell you what, I’ll drag him a bit farther into the trees here so someone in the park don’t accidentally see him and call the constables.”

Harry heard the others walking away, discussing how much fun it had been to beat up Harry and who they were going to harass next. When their voices had disappeared he felt the man grab his arm and drag him some distance. The man mumbled to himself, “What a lark. Here I am visitin’ me cousin and I find those chumps. They’ll make good fall guys come the right time.”

Harry’s trousers, overly large castoffs from Dudley, were slowly sliding down his legs. He was finally getting his breath back and beginning to try to struggle a bit when the man dragging him stopped and punched him in the solar plexus again.

He went out like a light. When he awoke, it was late in the afternoon, and starting to get dark. He hurt everywhere, especially his groin and backside. The man must have kicked him several times just for fun.

He looked around blearily. There, beside his head, were his broken glasses. At least the tape had held. The man must have brought them along, figuring that someone finding just the glasses might report it to the constables.

Getting to his feet was a major accomplishment and took much longer than it should. He wasn’t sure where he was, but it had to be close to the Little Whinging Playground and Park. He couldn’t stay here, though. He pulled his trousers back up and pulled the belt as tight as he could.

At the very least he had to make it to the Durleys’. Even if they hated him, if he was hurt bad enough they would take him to the hospital. At least this time he wouldn’t have to lie too much, he could truthfully say a gang had beaten him up instead of saying he had tripped going down the stairs. He just wouldn’t say which gang.

Besides, he couldn’t stay out here all night, even if he might prefer it. His . . . relatives . . . got upset if he stayed out too late. It reflected badly on them if anyone saw him out late alone. And that man might come back.

One side of the sky was lighter than the other, so he headed towards the sun, figuring that must be west and the park was on the east side of the Durlseys’ house.

A few times he considered just collapsing where he was and waiting to die. Then, at least, he would be with his parents. They may have been drunkards, but he was sure they loved him.

He wasn’t making fast progress as he staggered from tree to tree while trying to keep to the same direction. Fallen tree limbs and trunks that blocked his path made that difficult. He stopped frequently as pain wracked his body. He fell repeatedly, and each time it was harder to get up.

He just wished there was somewhere else besides the Dursleys’ he could go. Miss Figg, his sometimes babysitter was right out. She’d just take him straight to the Dursleys. He wanted somewhere where he didn’t sleep in a cupboard under the stairs, somewhere where he wasn’t punished for things he didn’t understand or for getting a better grade than his lazy cousin. Somewhere where he was safe — or at least as safe as everyone else. Somewhere where he could belong. Somewhere where he was considered normal.

He lurched from the current tree supporting him towards the next but somehow missed it. That was particularly painful for some reason, and he rolled across the forest floor. He could no longer stand upright and had to push forward on his hands and knees. Funny that, he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. Actually, it felt more like he was crawling on only his middle fingers.

Vaguely, he knew something was wrong. He should have crossed a street by now. Even if he had gone in the wrong direction, he still should have stumbled onto a street or path of some kind. But the light was getting brighter ahead. Eventually he found himself on the edge of a field. He must have gone the wrong direction and had stumbled into one of the farms in the area. And hadn’t it been dark a few minutes ago? Or had the forest fooled him into thinking it was later than it really was?

He collapsed as he reached the edge of the forest. Standing again was right out. In fact, he couldn’t even push himself up enough to crawl on his hands and knees. He started dragging himself forward, pushing, kicking, with his legs. If he got into the field, out from under the trees, maybe someone would see him — the grass didn’t seem to be all that high, he could almost see over it.

He didn’t notice the new scratches and cuts he accumulated doing this. Their additional pain was lost in the blaze of everything else complaining about his treatment.

Finally, he stopped and just lay there in the grass with the sun on his back.

He could go no farther. His legs stretched out behind him and his arms in front.

Oddly, he couldn’t feel his hands or feet anymore. Wasn’t that a symptom of blood loss? Losing feeling in your extremities? Huh, maybe he was dying. Small loss. He wondered if his mother looked like his aunt. He hoped not. Well, he would find out soon enough. At least he would be back with his mother and father. No more Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, or Cousin Dudley to torture him.

He expected to fall asleep, but now that he wasn’t trying to move the pain wouldn’t let him. Rolling onto his side helped only fractionally. Breathing in short gasps helped keep his chest pains down. But everything below his chest was just solid pain. Breathe in, breathe out, not too fast, not too slow. That was all he could think. Nothing else mattered. Breathe in, breathe out, not too fast, not too slow.

It smelled like spring — moist soil and crushed grass. It reminded him of working on Aunt Petunia’s agapanthi, roses, and pansies in front of the house and in the back garden. A good, earthy smell. Funny the things you thought about when you were dying.

۸-_-۸

Sometime later, whether minutes or hours he couldn’t tell, he heard voices. From the pitch he thought they sounded like girls.

“I think it was over here.”

“Naw, it was farther this way.”

“I think it was closer to the trees.”

“How ’bout we form a line starting over thar. Scootaloo, ya'll get over by the trees, but not too close. Sweetie Belle, get over thar on the other side of meh. We’ll walk along the edge of the forest, that way we’ll spot whatever it is easiest.”

“Yay! Cutie Mark Crusaders Search and Rescue!” One of them cheered loudly.

It was quiet for a moment, then, “Look, over there!”

The voices were much closer now. He could hear soft footsteps on the grassy ground.

“I see it!”

“Celestia!” Cried one of them, “It’s a filly!”

Harry tried to move his head, but it was just too much effort.

The voices were right on top of him. “Oh, Celestia,” one of them half-whispered, “She looks terribly beat up.”

A third voice said quietly, “Is she dead?”

Harry struggled to move his head.

“Her ear moved!” The first voice said excitedly.

“She’s alive!” Said the third voice at the same time. “You can see the grass by her muzzle movin’!”

“Look at the blood on her pants, she’s hurt bad! We need to get her to the hospital, fast!” said the second voice. “I’ll go get my sister!”

“Wait Apple Bloom! I got an idea!”

“Well, hurry up Scootaloo, what is it?”

They were so excited they were talking over each other.

“I can go faster than your sister can carry her. I’ll get my scooter and cart and we can carry her there that way.”

“Well, what are yeh waitin’ fer? Get a move on!” Apple Bloom ordered.

Harry heard the sounds of two people running away. Breathe in, breathe out, not too fast, not too slow.

“What should we do?” asked the second voice timorously.

“Use your healing spells?”

“I’m not sure they’ll help. I mean they’re fine for small cuts and such, but for these . . . ,” said the other voice. “I’m not good yet.”

“Anythin’ is better than nothin’, AJ always says,” came the quick reply. “Start with those cuts on her face.”

Spells? Harry thought. Was he dreaming?

A warmness seemed to wrap around his head and a bit of the pain in his face went away. He hadn’t even realized his face hurt that bad until the pain lessened.

“Do ya think it helped?”

“Well, it didn’t hurt.”

“What are those strange clothes she’s wearing? They look more like rags!”

“Less fashion talk and more healin’.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Try each leg separately,” Apple Bloom suggested.

He could hear something coming towards them, a clanking, rattling series of sounds accompanied by a flapping, almost buzzing sound. What a strange noise for a motor to make.

“What took ya so long, Scootaloo?”

“Hey, I ran as fast as I could!”

“Park it here beside her. I think we can get her into it if we work at it.”

He could hear them walking around him. It sounded like six people, but he only heard three talking.

“Sweetie Belle, do ya think ya can lift her?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Uh-uh. As small as she is she’s still too big for me.”

“Uh, how about you lift her head and Scoots and I’ll lift the rest of her?”

“Maybe,” was the uncertain reply.

“Scootaloo, grab her belt. I’ll grab her blouse. Sweetie Belle, try to keep her head up.”

“Eww. Her pants smell like pee.”

Apple Bloom said, “Scootaloo, there ain’t exactly any toilets out here, and she isn’t in any condition to use one anyway. If’n it bothers you that much, I’ll do it.”

Harry felt something grab the back of his collar and lift at the same time something warm wrapped around his head. As Scootaloo lifted him by his belt he could hear a constant mumbled, “Eww, eww, eww.” He couldn’t really hear anything more as waves of pain wracked his body. Breathe in, breathe out, not too fast, not too slow.

It felt like forever, a forever of constant pain, until the three girls finished manhandling him into some type of wagon. They folded his arms and legs to get him to fit lying down on his side. Which was weird, he would have thought they would have placed him on his back. He had tried to open his eyes, but all he could see was the side of the cart. He gave up on that rather quickly, it hurt too much.

“Hey, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo said after they placed him in the wagon. “Maybe you should tell your sister what we found. We got ta go right by the house, so why don’t you see if you can find her and we’ll meet you there?”

“Right!” came the quick answer, followed by the distinct sounds of a horse running off.

“Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo continued, “try to keep her head from bouncing around.”

“Okay.”

The next few minutes brought more pain for Harry. And a bit puzzling. He couldn’t figure out what was moving this wagon. That flapping-almost-buzzing sound wasn’t anything like any motor he had even heard before. He didn’t think about that too much as the cart bouncing as Scootaloo dragged it across the field introduced a few new bruises and tortured him with the bruises he already had. All he could do was concentrate on breathing.

Fortunately, Sweetie Belle did manage to keep his head from beating the wagon’s floor like it was a drum and his head the drumstick. Although, he wasn’t sure how she managed to do it as he didn’t feel anyone’s hands or a blanket cushioning him. He did hear the hoof beats of a horse beside him though. For some reason he smelled apples.

Apple Bloom had found her sister, apparently, for when they stopped some time later he heard a woman’s voice say, “Celestia! Ya'll’re right, she is a real mess!”

“Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, yeh take her on to the hospital. Apple Bloom is going to show me and Big Mac where ya found her. She might have had someone with her who didn’t make it out of the forest. Now git!”

Almost immediately he heard three horses taking off back the way they had come, followed a moment later by that weird flapping noise and the wagon starting to move.

“You keep her head safe, Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo called from in front of him.

“Uh huh.”

The ride, while still painful, was much smoother now, and faster from the sounds of it. Apparently they were on some kind of a road now.

When Scootaloo started yelling “Gangway! Emergency! Coming through!” at the top of her lungs he realized they must have reached the town. There was a sudden decrease in speed and Sweetie Belle yelled, “I’ll get the doors!” He heard the sound of hoof beats on a wooden ramp and the rolling sounds of wheels on wood. He figured the hospital was at hand.

The authoritative voice of a woman loudly protested, “Hey, you can’t ride that thing in here!”

“Emergency!” yelled Scootaloo, “Hurt filly! Real bad!”

More hoof beats, then, “My word! Bring her over here!” A moment later he heard, “Doctor Well Heart to reception, STAT! Doctor Well Heart to reception, STAT!”

Oh yeah, Harry knew he was in a hospital now. But why were there horses here, he wondered. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the wooden side of the wagon he was in and the ceiling over his head. And it hurt to keep his eyes open, so he just closed them again and concentrated on breathing — in and out, not too deep, not too little.

“What happened?” the reception nurse asked. “You can let her down now, honey,” she said to Sweetie Belle.

Before the other girl could answer Harry heard a horse clip-clop into the room and over beside him.

“Me and my friends, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, were working on our cutie marks — you know, crusading? — when we saw something over by the edge of the Everfree Forest and we thought it was a hurt animal, maybe a deer, so we ran over to see what it was and found her and at first we thought she was dead because of the blood and all the cuts and stuff but then we saw her ear move and saw her breathing so we got my scooter and wagon and brought her here as fast as we could and is she going to die?” Scootaloo managed to say all in one breath.

“I tried casting the healing spell I know, but it’s for small cuts and then I kept her head from bouncing in the cart as we raced over here,” Sweetie Belle added. Then said quietly, “I feel dizzy.” There was the thump of someone sitting heavily on the floor.

The Doctor, meanwhile had been, gently lifting and examining Harry’s head, arms, and legs. Funny that, he could feel his arms and legs moving, but he couldn’t feel anyone’s hands doing the lifting. Maybe he was closer to dead than he thought. He couldn’t find the energy to get worked up over that. He smiled, thinking maybe soon he would see his parents.

“Where’s Apple Bloom?” asked the nurse.

“She took Applejack, and Big Mac to where we found the filly. Applejack said there might have been someone with her,” Scootaloo explained.

“Right,” said the Doctor after a moment, “we need to get her into the examining room there. I’ll lift her.”

Harry expected to feel someone pick him up but instead he just drifted up into the air as a warm blanket of air seemed to move under him. He opened his eyes again, but everything was a blur, although he did see several horses standing around. He wondered where the doctors and nurses were. He closed his eyes again. They hurt and the movements around him were unsettling.

“Nurse, sound the alarm bell. First send the code for the Guard to go to Sweet Apple Acres by Applejack’s old tree-house. Second, send the code for all hooves on deck in-case there are more casualties. If not, it’ll be a good drill.”

“Yes, Doctor,” came the rapid response of a different woman and the clip-clop-clip of hoof beats fading away. Why were they riding horses in a Hospital?

“Here, honey, drink this water. You’re not hurt are you?” said the original nurse

“I’m just tired, I think,” Sweetie Belle said. “I kept her head from bouncing around in the cart while we ran here.”

“That’s quite a distance to run while keeping up a levitation spell, honey, you did very well. Just rest here a bit, okay?”

“Uh huh,” came the tired response.

Any further conversation cut off as the Doctor carried him into another room. He heard a curtain slide as the Doctor gently laid him down.

“First, we need to take off these clothes,” the Doctor said quietly. Harry felt air swirl around first his right arm and then the other as his shirt was cut apart. Moments later, his trousers followed. No loss as far as he was concerned. They were rags anyway, but Aunt Petunia would throw a wobbly anyway over him ruining another set of Dudley’s cast-offs.

Harry could hear the sound of a large bell ringing in a pattern of clangs and quiet. The codes the doctor had ordered, Harry guessed.

“Why is she bleeding there?” came Scootaloo’s voice.

From the slight scrabbling of hooves Harry got the impression Scootaloo startled the Doctor’s horse. “Ah, well, first, you are not supposed to be in here.”

“Ah, come on, I brought her all the way here, can’t I watch?”

“No, I’m sorry, but out you go.” From the clipping, clopping, and sliding sounds Harry got the impression that the Doctor was rather forcefully pushing the girl out of the room. “And, by the way, he’s a colt.”

“What!?” came the startled reply.

After that it was quiet except for the Doctor’s mumbling and the scratching of a pen on paper as he made notes. Oddly enough, as the Doctor moved around Harry, the pains and aches were slowly decreasing. They didn’t go away completely, but he was definitely feeling better. Huh, he’d never had that happen before. Usually it took a couple of hours for that to happen. And he thought he’d been hurt too bad this time. A vague sense of disappointment settled over him. He wasn’t going to see his parents after all.

The quiet didn’t last long as soon there was a flood of hooves entering the hospital in response to the warning bell.

“Ah, Doctor Heart, is this the new patient?”

“Hi, Doctor Horse, he is at that. Quite a mess, really. Two black eyes — multiple orbital fractures — split lip, numerous contusions and lacerations all over, especially the forelegs and chest. He clearly dragged himself in the dirt for quite some distance — need to make sure those are cleaned before we heal them. Some kidney damage, two broken ribs, the rest all have cracks of various sizes, swollen testicles from blunt force impact, and . . . ,” he sighed deeply, “. . . this.” There was a pause, then he added, “Not to mention chronic malnutrition and starvation. Based on his size, his weight is low by a quarter, and his height has been similarly affected, I would guess. No telling how old he is though and what he really should be in weight and height.”

“Found near the Everfree?”

“Yep.”

“That’s a letter to Canterlot and an investigation.”

“Yep.”

They both sighed.

“Keep meticulous records.”

“Oh, yeah, I plan on it.”

“Guards?”

“Haven’t heard back yet.”

“Have you put him to sleep yet?”

“That’s next. He’s almost out already. Wanted to check for head trauma first. That’s about the only thing he doesn’t have. Might as well do it now.”

Harry didn’t hear anything else as he abruptly blacked out.

۸-_-۸

4 — Patients Are Not Playparks

The three fillies stared at Harry with wide eyes. They had never heard of anypony whose relatives treated her so bad. Scootaloo’s parents, while not the most engaged of parents, still managed to give her her own bedroom in her aunts’ home, made sure she had the things she needed for school, and that she ate properly. What do you say to somepony when you discover they’ve been heavily abused?

Harry just stared at the ceiling. He would see if anything different came of this new situation. He didn’t have much hope for that. Now that they knew more about him, that he was a freak, he knew the three fillies would soon abandon him as all the other kids his age had done. They, or at least their parents, wouldn’t want them to associate with someone like himself. After all, only freaks required beatings to make them normal.

His bones didn’t ache nearly as much as they should. He wondered how long he had been asleep. Normally, the day after Uncle Vernon or Dudley broke one of his bones, it hurt like the dickens, and every move was agony. The second day was a vast improvement, but still any movement brought a bit of pain. By the end of five days things were back to normal.

On the other hand — or was it hoof, now? — he had never had a cast before to hold his broken bones together. That had to make a difference.

In the meantime, he started to itch. Not all over, of course, just in those places where it would be impossible to scratch due to his restraints. And now that he had started to think about it, there were several places that just itched terribly!

Scootaloo jumped up onto the bed and began examining the various ropes and pulleys dangling over his bed. She pushed on one rope. Harry’s right arm shifted up, twisting his cast slightly.

There was a minor twinge of pain, making Harry blink in surprise. Based on that it had to be the third day, meaning he had been asleep for nearly two days. That was bad. He needed to eat. If he went too long without eating it became very difficult for him to stay awake and move around.

“Scootaloo! Don’t do that!” Apple Bloom ordered.

“Aww. I’m just trying to figure out how these things work.” She moved her hoof off that rope to another.

Harry’s right arm settled back, but now his left shoulder lifted. That didn’t hurt, but it gave him an idea on how to deal with the itch right there beside the cast. The girls hadn’t run off in disgust yet, but after telling their parents about him he was sure they wouldn’t return. He should probably take advantage of their presence while they were here.

“Um,” Harry said, trying to wriggle his shoulder against the bed, “Could one of you scratch my shoulder, here?” He tried to point with his nose. Sweetie Belle moved around the bed and propped herself up against it, extending a hoof to his neck, “Here?”

“No, more to the back, right at the edge of the cast.”

She moved her hoof towards his back.

“Just a bit farther. . . .”

“Can’t,” she said, “you’re not high enough.”

“Scootaloo,” he said, “Lift me a bit higher.”

Eventually, through trial and error, Harry was twisted mostly to his right and Sweetie Belle managed to find the spot.

“Oh, yes, that’s it,” the colt crooned. After a moment, he added, “That’s enough, now right between my shoulder blades about ten centimetres down, do you think you can reach it?”

After a explaining he meant a hoof-length or two, it took a coordinated effort by all three fillies to get him almost sitting up. The three fillies pushed or pulled various ropes to accomplish that feat. It hurt a little bit, but no more than a mild toothache. The kind where you can’t seem to leave the little bugger alone, you just have to keep poking at it to see if it still hurts. And it feels so good when you stop. But getting that itch scratched was more than worth it.

Just as he was about to tell Sweetie Belle that she had taken care of that itchy spot perfectly his room’s door opened. He glanced over at it as a new doctor walked in. She, he assumed it was a she from the length of her hair, was a unicorn and had a dark brown coat with a yellow mane and tail. Her higher voice confirmed his guess.

“What are you doing?” she cried out as soon as she realized what she was seeing, taking a half-step backwards.

Already precariously balanced and startled by the sudden yell, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle slipped and fell into the ropes. Apple Bloom simply fell off the bed with a thud and an “Ow!” Harry, on the other hand, was yanked up into a standing position — that is, standing like a biped and not a quadruped — then dropped and flung onto his face as first Sweetie Belle and then Scootaloo managed to extricate themselves from the ropes by following Apple Bloom’s example and falling off the bed.

“AHHHH!” cried Harry at the sudden and unexpected change of position. “OWW!” all four foals said from their new positions a moment later.

With his face buried in the bed, Harry reflected that maybe asking the fillies for help in scratching his itches by playing with the ropes wasn’t that great of an idea. At least now the pain from his casts did a marvellous job of masking the itches. And pain he could handle. But still, probably worth it.

The nurse, when she arrived in answer to the yelling, was not pleased. Harry knew she was a nurse because she wore a nurse’s hat with a red cross on it and was all white. And she had a name tag that said, quite clearly, “Nurse Redheart.” She had neither wings nor a horn.

She soon had Harry on his back, his arms suspended properly over the bed, and his pain rapidly fading back to normal levels. The three fillies were each sitting in a separate corner of the room, with their noses firmly placed at the intersection of the walls in each respective corner. Their ears were all swivelled towards Harry so they could hear what was going on when they couldn’t see.

Nurse Redheart finally left with much grumbling about meddling fillies. Just before she closed the door, she said, “One little peep out of any of you,” and she stared at each filly in turn, even though they couldn’t see it, “and out the door you go! And I don’t care if the Princess wants you here!”

After a moment’s silence, the new pony, who had observed everything from a position beside the Guardpony and staying well out of the way of the irate nurse, stepped closer. She said, “Good afternoon, Hahry Potter. I am Doctor Deep Healer.” She, too, had a clipboard floating alongside her head. “I’m a unicorn specialist.” She sat beside his bed. “Now, I’ve been told that you managed to teleport. Is that correct?”

Harry blinked at her, then said, “I guess, if you say so, ma’am. I don’t know what teleporting is.”

She gave him a long look, then explained, “Teleporting is disappearing from one place and reappearing at another, which can be some distance from the original place. Most adult unicorns never manage that skill as it takes a great deal of concentration and power. And even then they can only manage ten or twenty thousand celestials, fifty thousand at most, without a lot of practice. For someone as young as you to successfully do it for the distance you covered, almost three thousand celestials, is unheard of.” She gave a brief smile. “That’s why I was called in. To determine the extent of your magic abilities.”

“There’s no such thing as magic,” was Harry’s reflexive response, as his Uncle had beat into him.

The doctor leaned back and blinked in surprise. The three fillies exchanged surprised looks from their respective corners. “’Course there is!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “Yeah,” added Apple Bloom, “we all have magic! Scoots to fly, and me to the earth!”

As soon as Harry had said that, though, his eyes turned to the clipboard and feathery pen floating beside the doctor’s head. His Uncle and Aunt had always insisted there was no such thing as magic, even going so far as to turn off the telly anytime there was a show that had magic in it or just mentioned the word. And Harry could still hear his Uncle’s voice as he declaimed, “All magicians are frauds who fool people with smoke and mirrors.”

Now, watching that clipboard hang in the air as if it were resting on a table, he had to wonder. Where were the smoke and mirrors? And then there was his sudden change in form from human to pony. If that wasn’t magical, what was?

On the other hand, he had read magazine articles in the library that explained how scientists were trying to determine if things such as telepathy and other so-called “mind arts” existed. The evidence was contradictory and almost never could be done a second time by someone else in a scientifically controlled experiment. But that it happened in the first place meant things were not as black and white as some people believed.

And then there was the famous quote from the science-fiction author Arthur C. Clarke, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” Perhaps that was what magic was, a highly advanced technology that the ignorant lumped together under the misleading label of “magic.”

“At least that’s what my uncle and aunt always said,” he added softly.

The doctor was obviously rethinking her approach as she pursed her lips and hummed.

“Has it ever happened that when you wanted something really badly, like candy or a cookie, it just seemed to fly to your hooves?”

He slowly shook his head. His Uncle and Aunt would have severely punished him if they had ever seen something like that happen. Just thinking about it made some of his scars twinge, and those were from things his relatives had accused him of without anything indicating he was responsible! If they had actually seen him doing something so freakish . . . . Well, he shuddered to think what his Uncle would have done to him.

He thought about some of the odd things that had happened in his life that had gotten him punished. “My teacher once had his hair turn blue. And another time I was running from my cousin and I suddenly was on top of the school. I thought a wind had blown me up there.”

She frowned. “So, you’ve teleported twice now.” She lapsed into thought, worrying her lower lip. Finally she said, “I’m going to cast a small spell to see if I can determine your magical potential, okay?”

He nodded.

Her horn started to glow a deeper pink. Her eyes lost focus, as if she were looking at something closer to her than his head. She took a quick breath and a step back, as if startled, then frowned again.

“I need to do a stronger spell. You might feel a little warm.”

The glow on her horn intensified and, indeed, he felt a warm heat suffuse his body. It was sort of relaxing, actually.

The doctor squinted, then sighed. She shook her head. “I’ll need to consult with some of my associates in Canterlot before I can say more. In the meantime, please take it easy and relax and recover from your injuries.” She smiled at him and stood. “Your meal should be here in a moment.”

True to her word, no sooner had she walked out the door than Nurse Redheart brought in a push cart with a bowl and three plates on it.

“Hello, again, Hahry Potter,” she said in a kindly voice. She gave a stern look at the three fillies each of whom quickly returned to examining their respective corner intently.

He nodded in acknowledgment, offering an accompanying and meek, “Hello, ma’am.”

“Okay you three troublemakers, these plates for you three. You can stay as long as you behave,” she said. Shamefacedly, the three fillies turned around, “Yes, Nurse Redheart,” they said.

“It was an accident,” said Scootaloo.

“We were just trying to help Hahry scratch his itches,” said Sweetie Belle apologetically.

“Ah’m sorry,” said Apple Bloom sorrowfully.

After staring at the three sternly, the nurse’s expression slowly changed to a smile and she pointed with her nose at three plates to one side of the cart. They appeared to be salads of some sort.

One at a time a soft pale-green glow surrounded each plate and brought them over to the girls. Harry noticed the same pale-green glow around Sweetie Belle’s horn. The little filly had her face scrunched up in concentration and her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth.

Scootaloo somehow grabbed her plate between her hooves as it hovered in front of her and started munching away at the greens piled on the plate. Apple Bloom soon followed her example. And then Sweetie Belle served herself. There were no utensils, they just stuffed their muzzles into the greens and started eating.

Meanwhile, the nurse was positioning herself beside Harry. She smiled at him. “We’re going to start you with vegetable soup.” Then she took a spoon with a long handle on it in her mouth and scooped up some soup from the bowl on the cart. She swung it over to him and waited a moment. It was clear that because he couldn’t feed himself, she was going to do it for him. Sighing, he opened his mouth and let her do her job.

It was a light vegetable soup that was more broth that substance, but it was just what he needed. And it was surprisingly flavourful. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever having a soup with as many flavours as this one seemed to have. He was surprised at how quickly things went as he finished off the bowl in what felt like record time. He would have licked the bowl if she had held it up for him. “Thank you,” he said gratefully, “that was very good.”

“Good,” she said. “That should have filled you up nicely!”

He looked at the empty bowl, then back at her. Somewhat hesitantly, and in a small voice, he said, “Could I have a little more?”

She stared at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nodded hesitantly. He was a bit surprised she hadn’t yelled at him for criticizing how much she had fed him by daring to ask for more.

She frowned, then said, “Well, we’ll wait half an hour and if you’re still hungry, I’ll bring you a bit more.”

He nodded. That was how she planned to handle it. Keep him happy by promising more knowing she wouldn’t be back. She probably thought he would only realize she wasn’t going to be bringing him more when bedtime arrived. Well, at least they had actually given him one decent meal.

Sweetie Belle had already put the fillies’ plates back on the cart, so soon it was just him, the three girls, and the guard.

With a full stomach, and his bad days before, Harry realized he was still quite tired. However, there were a few questions he had. Harry looked at Sweetie Belle. “How did you do that? Make the plates float, I mean.”

“What?” She frowned. “Well, I just . . . .” And that turned into an odd discussion which boiled down to, “I don’t know, I just do it!” About the only useful information he got was when she said, “. . . I tell the magic what I want to do and then push it out from my horn.”

Ah. That was disappointing. He didn’t have a horn. He also didn’t have wings — he certainly would have noticed them when the doctor was doing his examination!

That was when Sweetie Belle said, “But you won’t be able to do anything anyway . . .”

Harry rolled his eyes. He wanted to say something sarcastic about Captain Obvious, but held back. Sarcasm frequently led to beatings. Or tattling to teachers, which led to problems of a different kind. Those problems usually entailed a beating at the Dursleys’ for being a rude “freak.”

“. . . because the doctors put a ring on your horn to prevent you from using your magic.”

He stared at her incredulously. “Horn?” he said disbelievingly. “I have a horn?”

The fillies exchanged puzzled looks. How could a unicorn not know they had a horn?

“Well, yeah!” said Scootaloo, pointing at his forehead.

Harry turned his eyes up and could just barely see a short piece of spiral cut bone that moved left and right as he moved his head. If he could have moved his arms he would have reached up and felt for it.

“I have a horn?” he said softly. Did that mean he could do magic, too? But, wait, Sweetie Belle said something about a ring. He looked back at her and said, “A ring?”

She looked down at the floor and traced a circle with a front hoof. “Yeah, a magic suppressing ring. It prevents you from using your horn to cast magic. They were afraid you might teleport away again and hurt yourself because you’re so weak.”

He glared at her.

She took a step back, “Hey, it’s not my fault!”

He looked up at the ceiling and huffed. They were right. If he could teleport, he probably would try to escape again.

He just stared at the ceiling for several minutes thinking about how he was now a unicorn and could apparently cast magic. He smiled to himself. Boy, he thought, wait until I get to the Dursleys. They will be soo sorry they weren’t nice to me! He would have rubbed his hands together if his arms weren’t in casts. He began to daydream about what he was going to do to them.

The three fillies quickly got bored after realizing he was lost in thought and fell to arguing about what they needed to do next on their current Cutie Mark Crusade.

Nurse Redheart returning to the room startled them all. “It’s about time for you three to be headed home,” she said, looking at the fillies. “We’ll see you tomorrow after school.” She turned to Harry. “Are you still hungry for a bit more? It’s been about an hour since you ate.”

Harry was startled that she actually remembered to ask that question. Did she truly plan to bring him more? Before he could reply, though, his stomach growled. Sheepishly, he just nodded.

The girls and nurse stared at him, astonished. He had eaten a full meal and his stomach was already empty? What kind of appetite did this colt have? Or did he have four hollow legs?

With a shake of their heads, the three fillies began to file out of the room. “Bye!” “See ya tomorrow!” “Don’t run through any walls!” They called out as they left. “Scootaloo!” scolded Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo just shrugged and waved goodbye to Harry.

Harry blinked at them for moment — he couldn’t exactly wave, now could he? — said, “bye,” and then stuck his tongue out at Scootaloo, who just laughed.

After polishing off a second bowl of soup, Harry thanked Nurse Redheart again. Then he returned to staring at the ceiling, contemplating what had happened the last few days. For which he had been conscious for only a few hours.

How he had gotten to this strange world he hadn’t the slightest idea. Why he was a pony, he likewise had no idea. That the ponies who populated this world treated him better than the people back in Little Whinging was a fact.

Well, he assumed that ponies populated this world. Perhaps there were other intelligent animals, who knew for sure? Anyway, he was getting far better treatment here than he had ever gotten in Little Whinging, so he wasn’t about to start complaining about little things like becoming a pony or magic being real. And, it seemed, that the ponies were convinced he, himself, could do magic!

In fact, thinking about what Doctor Deep Healer had said, she seemed convinced he had used magic back in Little Whinging! But how could he have done magic when apparently you needed a unicorn horn to do it?

But Uncle Vernon had always said magic was fake. Here, clearly, it wasn’t fake. And there, well, apparently, it wasn’t a big wind that blew him up to the school’s roof. He had “teleported” when trying to escape Dudley at school. And if he had teleported, which is called magic here, then magic was real there, too.

He remembered Aunt Petunia, tired of seeing him come back from the barbers looking as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken the kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left “to hide that horrible scar” he was so proud of.

And he had hated it. He knew the kids at school would laugh and make no end of fun at him. He would, again, be utterly humiliated. But the next morning, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off! Magic was the only reasonable explanation, now that he thought about it.

And then Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into Dudley’s old revolting brown sweater with orange puff balls. The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn’t fit Harry. Again, the only reasonable explanation was magic!

And he couldn’t forget how he never got sick, although Dudley seemed to catch every bug that came by. While that might just be luck, everyone he knew in Primary school came down sick at least once a year, so probably not luck.

And then there were the beatings. Bruises disappeared in a few hours. Cuts healed overnight. It had always puzzled him that whenever he saw someone with a broken arm or leg, that they had to wear a cast for weeks. He knew his so-called uncle had broken bones with some of his beatings, but Harry always recovered enough to be back at his chores in a couple of days. Days, not weeks.

Was . . . was . . . that what they meant when they said they would beat the freakishness out of him? Magic was what made him a freak? Magic that he had that they did not? They were punishing him because he could do things they could not?

And that meant that all those things they blamed on him might truly have been his fault! If they had explained things, maybe he could have controlled it and prevented so much of it from happening!

He could do magic and they could not, so he was a FREAK. He had a talent that they did not and therefore he was a FREAK! All these years, all that pain, both emotional and physical, was because they were afraid and jealous of him!

He laid there, too stunned to know how to react. He wanted to scream, yell, throw things, kick the wall, and throw a tantrum that would put one of Dudley’s to shame. But he couldn’t move, the ropes and weights prevented him from doing anything physical. And if he screamed and kicked his legs in the air — and oh, how he wanted to scream and kick — that would only bring the nurses and then the doctors running. Not to mention startling the guard at the door. And they would want to know what was wrong and he would end up embarrassed and frustrated. And punished for disturbing everyone.

He closed his eyes and ruthlessly pushed down his primal reactions. The only outward sign of his inner turmoil was the way his breath hissed in and out through his gritted teeth.

It took a long time before he began to calm down. And that was only because he distracted himself with planning the retribution he would rain down upon the Dursleys and the other bullies in Little Whinging. Perhaps even burning the school down.

He finally faded off to sleep debating the order of his victims in exacting his revenge.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Part II – The Prodigal Son Returns — Ch. 13 — The Sap is Running

Author's Note

Some information on why ponies are the way they are in this story: An Informed Guide to the Reality of Ponies.

Part II – The Prodigal Son Returns — Ch. 13 — The Sap is Running

The four of them were lying down, with three made a rough triangle. Apple Bloom had dropped down onto her left side. Harry was nestled between her legs on his left side with his head facing hers and using her barrel as a pillow. Scootaloo, in turn, was lying on her left side with her legs curled up and her head pillowed on Harry facing his head. Apple Bloom was using Scootaloo as a pillow, and, naturally, facing her head. Sweetie Belle, not to be left out, was behind Apple Bloom with her head between Harry’s and Apple Bloom’s.

It was a comfortable position for them, keeping their heads close together for talking while still letting each use another as a pillow. Settling into a square arrangement didn’t work nearly as well. They had discovered this arrangement during an overnight sleepover at the clubhouse the previous summer. With a careful placement of blankets, it was actually quite comfortable. Unfortunately, they didn’t have blankets this morning, either over them or under.

Not that they needed blankets. The grass was soft, if a bit damp. It was a late mid-summer day and already the temperature was climbing into the uncomfortable range. Which was why they were lying down in the shade. The bugs were buzzing over the field and the smell of green grass, apples, and rich fertile soil permeated the air. They had already snuck a few snacks off the flowers dotting the orchard.

They had just finished with their morning exercises — they were in training for the Fall Running of the Leaves to try to get their Cutie Marks in running races. Scootaloo had convinced them to start training now, in the middle of summer, because Rainbow Dash had told her, “Ya gotta train months in advance for something like that if you wanna really win it! Starting out training just a few weeks ahead, like most ponies do, simply isn’t enough time to build the stamina or speed you need.”

Hence, their recent every-other-day training schedule. At the moment, they were rather quiet, except for heavy breathing, as they recovered from their wind sprints around the orchard.

Harry sighed contentedly. He’d been here in this strange land for over a year now. A year, two months, and six days, to be precise, if he were inclined to keep count. And next week would mark his eleventh birthday. He closed his eyes and drowsed. He felt safe. And he was with friends. Friends he couldn’t imagine being without.

He had been a stranger. He had talked weird. He hadn’t known anything that they considered normal. Yet, they had accepted him. And made him their friend, when he hadn’t been sure what that word meant.

They meant everything to him.

Oh, they argued. They fought. They had disagreements and didn’t speak to each other for days at a time. But they always forgave each other. And fought for each other. For the girls, the old slogan “One for all, and all for one!” had been their motto. And it was his, now.

The fillies had even declared him a part of their herd! He still wasn’t sure what that meant, except that they seemed to stay together no matter what happened, and that they stuck up for one another without fail.

He had asked Twilight what it meant to be in a herd and she had blushed and started to stutter before telling him, “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Harry. I’ll explain it all later when you’re older.” He had decided it must not be important and dropped the matter. All he knew is that the girls were very happy when he had agreed.

Apple Bloom felt a faint plip as something tiny hit her head. She looked around but didn’t see anything. A few minutes later there was another little plip near her tail. A second glance revealed nothing. She frowned. “Is anypony else getting dive-bombed by bugs?”

“Hmm?” “What?” and “Bugs?” where the answers she got.

As in any orchard or pasture, there were bugs aplenty flying around — butterflies, grasshoppers, ants bumble bees, lady bugs, and so forth. Usually centred on the flowers and trees. Considering that, her comment was a bit puzzling.

“Well,” she said, “it feels like Ah’m being hit by bugs.”

They all looked around and up. Harry was the first to see the drop falling and hitting Sweetie Belle’s mane. “It’s probably just dew from overnight dripping down,” he suggested. “See,” he said, pointing with his right hoof.

“It’s too late in the morning for that, Harry,” Apple Bloom said. “All the dew has dried up.”

He stared and noticed that the branch the drop came from seemed to be broken. He glanced around at the other branches and quickly noticed that there seemed to be a fair number of broken ones in sight, making the tree appear a bit lopsided. He could see where a large branch had snapped off, its jagged end shining in the light. He looked around at the other trees.

“Hey, Apple Bloom,” he said casually, “doesn’t this tree look like the one that lost that big branch last week in the thunderstorm?”

“What? You mean that biggun’ that we spent most of Saturday morning gathering the downed sticks and branches for the kitchen wood stove?”

“Yeah, remember, there was that one tree with the big branch down that we both had to work at dragging? And that it broke off a bunch of other branches when it fell?”

She looked around and narrowed her eyes in thought. “Yeah, Ah think yer right. This is that tree.”

Harry looked up just in time for drop to hit him right on the nose. He went cross-eyed trying to look at it before rubbing his muzzle with a hoof. It was rather sticky, he discovered. “Uh, oh,” he said quietly. He studied the branches overhead and after several minutes he could see a myriad of broken branches, each of which seemed to have a little gleam at the tip.

“Hey, Apple Bloom? How long does it take a tree to stop sending sap to a broken branch?”

“Ah dunno, a season or two, maybe a year.”

She jolted slightly as drop of sap hit her ear.

Her eyes widened, then shrunk to pin points. “No!” she half-whispered, as she began to realize what he was suggesting. She looked up at the branches overhead and quickly noted just how many broken branches there were, and that each one had a drop of sap about to fall. She looked down at the grass around them and noted how it was a slightly darker colour than the grass on the other side of the tree. “NO!” she said, louder, and started to get to her hooves.

“Hey!” “What’s going on?” came from the other two fillies as they were forced to get up as well. Harry was silent getting up, already suspecting what Apple Bloom had discovered.

“No! No! NO!” Apple Bloom shouted, stomping a hoof as she looked at her left side, now liberally decorated with grass glued in place on her fur by the sap that had been falling and coating the grass ever since last Friday.

“It’s not fair!” she shouted. The other fillies were only just now realizing what had happened as they, too, surveyed their grassy sides. “We weren’t even doing nothing with trees and now we’re covered in tree sap. It’s not fair!” She stomped her hoof in frustration.

“Ah, ponyfeathers!” Scootaloo shouted as she scrambled out from under the apple tree. “I hate tree sap!” The others were right beside her doing their own complaining. They had had far, far too much experience with just how difficult it was to get tree sap out of their fur.

“I got the last traces of sap outta my fur just the day before yesterday!” Sweetie Belle complained.

Harry nodded, they had not had a good ending to their attempt to get a Survivalist Cutie Mark in the Whitetail Woods over by the lake. Sap everywhere! Harry was sure that there was sap still stuck in his right ear. Or was it his left ear? At least it wasn’t under his tail!

And now, here they were, not even on one of their Cutie Mark adventures — they were preparing for a Cutie Mark adventure, true, but nothing to do with trees, yet — and already liberally coated in tree sap. Harry sighed, looking at his left side, now green with grass glued in place by the tree sap he had unknowingly laid down in under the tree. He looked over at where they had been resting and it was clear to see the giant damp spot that was the area the tree sap had soaked since last Friday. And the now relatively grassless blobby area where they had been lying down.

The fillies were in not better condition. It was going to take at least a couple of hours of shampooing to get all the sap out of their fur. Not the most fun way to spend the rest of the morning.

He was about to suggest that they might as well get started when Scootaloo said, “Hey, look at that bird.”

He looked at her and then looked over towards the Everfree forest where she was pointing. She was right, there was a bird flying along the edge of the woods. And it had to be a big bird considering how far they were from the Everfree. No, he decided, it wasn’t really flying along the edge, it was headed for them. He stared for a moment and then started to get tense. That was an awfully big bird. As it got closer he saw that it was very big. It was at least half again as big as Owlowiscious, if not bigger. And he had seen Owlowiscious pick up the Twilight’s assistant dragon, Spike, who was just a bit bigger than he was.

And it was headed for them.

“Uh, girls,” he said nervously, “Why is it heading for us?”

“Maybe it has a nest in this tree?” hazarded a guess from Apple Bloom.

“Perhaps,” said Sweetie Belle staring at the bird as she started walking away from the tree. The other three were getting just as uneasy and they all quickly followed her. Looking to the side as he followed the fillies, Harry noted that the bird was a medium brown with white spots, and white upperparts. “But I didn’t see a nest when we were picking up branches last Saturday,” she finished.

The bird angled towards them. “Ah don’t think she has nest here,” Apple Bloom said unsteadily. They started trotting away. The bird changed its flight again to head towards them. They started running. The bird started flapping its wings and changing its direction to catch them. Harry looked back and saw the bird looking right at him. The bird was definitely interested in them. They’d never be able to outrun the bird and eventually one of them would get hurt. He couldn’t let them get hurt, not after what they had done for him.

He yelled, “AHHHHHH . . . ,” as loud as he could and suddenly cut to his right away from the fillies and galloped for a nearby tree.

The bird sharply changed direction and flew towards him.

Harry began galloping faster, still yelling, “. . . AHHHHHHHHHHHH . . .”

The three fillies slowed down, then stopped and watched. Harry now was running figure-eights around two trees trying to evade the bird.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Wow. For such a little bugger, he’s fast!” Scootaloo said admiringly, “Wonder why he’s always so slow when we’re practicing for the Running of the Leaves?”

“. . . aaaaahhhhhHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhHHHHHH . . .”

“And quick, did ya see that switch-back he jes did?” said Apple Bloom.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“I never knew he could scream that loud,” said Sweetie Belle.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“He sure sounds funny the way his voice gets louder and fainter as he runs around those trees.”

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Powerful lungs he’s got there — has he even taken a breath yet?”

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

Sweetie Belle frowned. “You know, I don’t think he could do a better job of keeping that bird’s attention if he tried, yelling and running like that,” she said thoughtfully.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Do ya think he’s doing it on purpose?”

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Don’t know. And I don’t think that bird’s actually trying to attack him, either. It’s just sorta following him.” They watched as the bird alternately flapped its wings and glided elegantly in Harry’s wake.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“I think that’s an owl,” said Sweetie Belle. “Owls don’t eat things bigger than they are. They won’t even attack unless they’re defending their nest.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Hmm, Ah think yer right Sweetie Belle.”

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

Harry was now running in circles around one tree, trying to keep the tree between him and the owl.

“. . . AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh . . .”

“Ya know, it’s kinda hard to tell if the owl’s chasing him or he’s chasing the owl, now.”

“Yep,” agreed Apple Bloom. “Any moment now he’s gonna realize he’s about to catch up to the owl rather than the owl catching up to him.”

The owl heard Harry behind it and did a quick U-turn to fly at the running colt.

“. . . AHHHHHH . . . .” Harry saw the owl headed straight at him, slid to a halt, spun around, and started galloping straight down the orchard, weaving in and around the trees, his voice fading the farther away he went, “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” Just as they lost sight of him behind a distant tree there came the faint POP came of his teleporting away. The owl circled the tree for a minute hooting madly in the distance.

“I was wondering when he would remember he could do that,” Sweetie Belle said.

“Ah’ve never heard an owl curse before,” says Apple Bloom, “but Ah swear that thar owl is cussing up a storm right now.”

The hooting began to fade away as the owl headed in the direction of Apple Bloom’s home.

Apple Bloom sighed, “Come on, fillies, we’d better hurry. Who knows what trouble Harry is going to get into if we’re not there.” She then took off running after the owl with the other two rapidly following her lead.

۸-_-۸

Harry arrived at the Apple farmhouse midway between the house and barn. He immediately started yelling, “AJ, AJ, AJ, AJ, there’s a giant bird after me!” He ran in circles as he couldn’t decide whether to run to the barn or the house first. “AJ, AJ, AJ, AJ, there’s a giant bird after me!”

Applejack came hurrying out of the barn, “What in tarnation are you yammering about?”

“Oh, thank god,” said Harry, charging towards her. “I was worried that you might be off in the orchards somewhere.”

Applejack sighed, “So what’s this about a big bird?”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Harry exclaimed, hopping in place. “The girls and I were over in the West Orchard resting,” Harry stood on his back legs and started hopping up and down while he pointed toward where he had just been, “. . . after practicing our wind sprints so we can be ready to get our Cutie Marks in racing at the Running of the Leaves this fall when we discovered the tree we were lying under had dripped sap all over the grass and we were covered in sap and grass . . . .” He pointed at his grassless side, getting a puzzled look from Applejack, “. . . when Scootaloo saw this big bird flying along the path between the orchard and the Everfree, and then it started flying towards us so we started running and the bird started following us so I ran away from the girls towards a tree and the bird followed me and wouldn’t stop so I started running here and then I remembered I could teleport so I teleported here to tell you about the bird!” Harry was starting to turn blue.

Applejack sighed, shaking her head, “Breathe, Harry, breathe!” She put a hoof on his head to stop his hopping.

As he did so, though, he looked off towards the West Orchard where he was pointing and saw the distant bird flying towards them. He took a deep breath. “AHHHHHH, there it is now,” he yelled. He spun on the spot, dropped to all fours, and dashed into the house.

As soon as he was inside he slammed the door shut and latched it. Then he ran into the sitting room. He ran to the couch and pushed it into the short entryway to block the door. That accomplished, he ran into the kitchen. He dodged around a surprised Granny Smith, and made sure the kitchen door was shut. He darted back to the table and, straining, pushed the huge dinner table — it was big enough to seat half a dozen adult ponies, after all — to block that door as well.

He stepped back, panting, and surveyed his work. He saw Applejack walk up onto the back porch. She stick her head into the kitchen through the open window to the right of the kitchen door.

“Harry,” she said, calmly, “What are yeh doing?”

“Making sure that that big bird can’t get to me in the house.”

A large brown bird with white spots flew in the open window on the other side of the kitchen door and landed on the kitchen counter.

Applejack sighed. “That bird?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

Granny Smith was looking around confused, “What in tarnation is going on here?”

Harry peeked out from under the seating-cushion he was hiding under — he was nothing if not quick — and up at the bird. The bird was staring right back at him, with the air of someone who is very exasperated. Harry frequently saw that same look on Applejack’s face when she was talking about or to any of the Cutie Mark Crusaders. If the bird could have managed it, it would have been face-palming, Harry somehow knew.

Now that it was closer he could see details he had missed earlier. The face was pale with yellow eyes. It looked like it had short ears, but those were probably just feathers sticking out. He realized it was a giant tufted owl — Cheerilee had had a whole lesson on the owls native to Equestria, but none were this big. “Yep,” he said decisively, “That’s the bird.” He ducked back under the seating cushion. If its eyes could have moved, the owl would have rolled them. Instead, the owl merely huffed and clacked his beak in annoyance.

In the quiet moment that followed Harry could hear the hoofbeats of his three friends dashing into the barnyard and up onto the front porch. Almost instantly there followed three loud thuds as the hurrying fillies tried and failed to open the barricaded front door. Three “Ow’s” came around the side of the house.

Applejack hung her head down, shaking it, and sighed. She pulled her head outside and bellowed, “We’re around here by the kitchen door!” She poked her head back through the window to look at the owl.

Harry could hear the pounding of their hooves as the fillies rushed around the house. There was a thud, and an “Ow,” as the first one to the back door bounced off it as it refused to open. Shortly, his three best friends were propped up on the ledge of the window the bird had used to enter the kitchen.

“There’s Harry,” said Apple Bloom, pointing with a hoof.

“There’s the bird,” said Sweetie Belle, pointing with a hoof.

“Hi, Granny Smith,” said Scootaloo, waving a hoof energetically.

The aged Granny Smith shakily walked over to the bird and examined it. “My, my, this here bird is quite friendly. Ah’d wager he’s no wild owl.” She grinned at him as he stared back at her. “Are you, boy?” She tilted her head slightly and looked at the owl’s feet. “And looky here,” she pointed with one hoof, nearly tipping over, “there’s some sort of paper tied to his leg!” The small paper looked somewhat like an envelope. It was held to the owl’s leg by a ribbon tied in a bow.

She moved her hoof closer to that leg. The owl hopped a short distance farther away, hooted sharply, and turned so that the leg with the paper was away from the old mare. The letter was not for her. He glared at the old mare.

“Well!” the old pony said, “There’s no reason to be rude!”

The owl hooted again.

“Well, still, manners!” she replied, scolding the owl.

The owl hooted softly.

“Very well,” she said, “I accept your apology.”

The others stared at the two for a moment.

“It’s not wild?” said Harry.

“He’s someone’s pet?” said Sweetie Belle.

“Yeh kin understand him?” said Apple Bloom.

“That is soo cool, Granny Smith!” Scootaloo said admiringly.

“Thar’s a paper tied to his leg?” said Applejack. She frowned. “Harry, yeh get over here and push this table back where it belongs.”

Harry sighed, and climbed out from underneath his sanctuary cushion. Keeping a wary eye on the owl, he walked over to the table. Pushing it back in place when he wasn’t jazzed up on running away was much more difficult. He also couldn’t get properly behind the table to push. He had to push one of the legs instead.

“Hey!” said Scootaloo, “What’re you doin’?”

“It’ll take Harry forever to move that thar table, Ah’m gonna help him. So help me climb in this here window!” ordered Apple Bloom.

A moment later, Harry heard a thud as she fell into the kitchen. He looked over at the filly on the floor beside him. She let out a heartfelt, “Ow!” Then, “I said help me climb through the window, not throw me through the window like a brick, you brats!” He saw Applejack, meanwhile, face-hoofing. The other two girls were on the porch giggling.

It was a concerted effort but soon the table was back where it belonged and the kitchen door opened. Almost immediately the other two fillies trotted in, followed more sedately by Applejack, still shaking her head at the fillies and colt.

“Sit!” Applejack ordered Harry, pointing at his seating-cushion. She glanced at the other three, “You, too.”

Harry had no sooner sat on the oversized cushion he had been hiding under than the owl flapped its wings a few times and flew from the counter to the table-top. It balanced on one leg while holding the other out to Harry. Harry glared at the owl.

Applejack chuckled, “Ah guess that means that paper is for you. And maybe that was why the owl was chasing yeh!” She shook her head at the silliness of young colts and fillies.

Hesitantly, with many a cautious look at the owl’s sharp beak, Harry reached out with his hooves and pulled one of the loose ends of the bow securing whatever it was to the owl’s leg. The paper dropped to the table-top and immediately started growing larger. They all sat back in surprise to see a large envelope now lying on the table. Harry was even more surprised to see that the envelope had very fancy writing on it, and it had his full name. He had never mentioned to anypony what his middle name was, that he could remember. Written on the envelope was:

.

“Harry James Potter,

Sweet Apple Acres,

The Fifth Bedroom on the Second Floor,

Ponyville, Equestria, Equus.”

۸- ̰ -۸

37 — The Three Curses

Author's Note

As a reminder, for those unfamiliar with metric/Imperial, here is a quick cheat: a meter is 3-inches longer than a yard, so when you see one, just use the one you are familiar with. For short distances, it won't make a difference (we are not doing rocket science here). A foot is 1/3 of a yard, so about 1/3 of a meter (30.48cm, actually). Six inches is 15cm. A mile is 1.6 km, so 1 km is about 2/3's of a mile.

37 — The Three Curses

They were at number Eleven Magnolia Road having breakfast when, with a pensive expression, Harry suddenly stopped and looked up at the transformed alicorn. “Twilight, I don’t understand.”

She put her fork back down and looked back at him surprised. “Understand what?”

Rarity and the girls looked up, listening.

“Well,” Harry said slowly, “I’ve read in the books about the night my parents died, and it just doesn’t make sense.”

Twilight nodded carefully, the hint of a smile appearing.

“They were supposedly hiding under this fidelius magic that requires a secret keeper. And this Sirius Black bloke was supposed to be that secret keeper. The books claim that he was an ‘inner circle’ member of the Death Eaters, cleverly hiding his true allegiance for all those years. That he was basically an undercover agent, and betrayed my parents to this Voldemort wizard on that Halloween night. And that everyone knew he was the secret keeper.”

She nodded again.

“But the books also say that he and my father thought of each other as brothers. That they made friends when they were eleven and were practically inseparable. They became such good friends that when Sirius had problems with his family, my father’s family had him move in with them. They all but officially adopted him.” Harry looked down for a moment. “My parents even made him my Godfather.” He looked up. “And the books say that he was a fierce fighter against the Death Eaters, capturing many in his duels, and just as fiercely denounced them as blood-thirsty animals. He even fought this Voldemort bloke several times. He appeared to despise the pure-blood fanatics. Many times he was heard saying that he would give his life for my father.

“His dedication and bravery in fighting also are mentioned many times, as is the fact that he didn’t seem to care for riches.” Harry shook his head.

“And the books say that that was all a charade, a pretence by a consummate actor.”

Harry sighed. “So, why would he betray my parents? It makes no sense. He didn’t need money, he had a comfortable inheritance from his uncle. He wasn’t afraid of the Death Eaters or Voldemort, he denounced both at every opportunity. He doesn’t seem to have been interested in power, either. And in the few wizarding pictures I’ve seen, he truly looks and acts as if he considered my father his best friend.” He looked up at Twilight, his eyes shining bright with unshed tears. “So, why would he do something like that?”

She patted her lips with a napkin. “Yes, I noticed that as well,” she said. “You’ll also notice that the books say he was sent to their prison almost immediately after he was captured. And he was laughing about killing your parents — totally at odds with what one might expect an undercover agent to do.” She had a quizzical expression.

“I would expect him instead to accuse this Peter Pettigrew of the crime. To pretend he hadn’t been the Potters’ secret keeper, and accuse Peter of being both the secret keeper and turncoat. That he had killed,” she shuddered slightly, “his former friend in revenge for the Potters. That he was completely innocent in the matter, and Pettigrew’s last words accusing him of the deed had been a desperate, last ditch effort to confound and escape Sirius Black. And that Peter Pettigrew had cast the final spell that had caused the explosion killing the non-magicals just before Sirius Black’s own fatal spell landed.” She shook her head.

“And that would be especially true with him knowing that he would be arrested and thrown into prison if he didn’t provide a competent cover story.”

She looked Harry in the eyes. “I find it interesting that no mention is made of testing his wand to see what spells he had been using, to see if he had caused that horrific explosion. Nor did they consider the possibility that he had been imperioused into doing it. Or that he might have been laughing because Peter Pettigrew hit him with a laughing charm during their duel.” She leaned forward. “It is also interesting that nopony asked him why he had done it.”

She nodded her head at Rarity. “Sounds almost like what happened to Zecora, doesn’t it? Ponies see something that scares them, and they jump to all sorts of conclusions that are wrong.”

Rarity nodded, as did the girls, wide-eyed at conversation.

“On the other hoof, that makes Sirius Black quite the actor, doesn’t it? Completely hiding his faithful allegiance to the evil wizard, starting when he was only eleven years old?” She paused. “I find it difficult to believe that he could fake a friendship such as is recorded with such ease, considering his age. Keeping a horrible secret, yes, that’s possible, but pretending to be something he is not? For over eight years, from before puberty through teenage angst to adult? With such a convincing effort that he fooled his parents into disowning him? Or if they did know, that they would so shabbily treat their own son in such a matter, and not even regret the actions when on their deathbeds? Without any of them even once making a mistake or slipping up?” She stopped, nodded, and said, “I doubt it.

“And even if he converted to the pure-blood philosophy after he left school, there still should have been something to indicate a change, some event that caused him to doubt his previous beliefs. Yet there is nothing to indicate why he would make such a dramatic turn-around in his attitude, to betray someone he had frequently called his brother.”

Harry looked up at her, anguish apparent in his expression. “If he really did do those things he’s accused of, then I want him to stay right where he is. He deserves nothing better.” The boy drew a shuddering breath. “But if he didn’t do them . . . .” He stared at her and whispered, “My Godfather.”

She smiled reassuringly at him. “I will see what we can do to find out what really happened. Starting with getting a witch solicitor. It might take a little time, but I’m sure we’ll be able to get you the answers you want. Maybe we can get Headmaster Dumbledore, in his capacity as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot,” she frowned and shook her head, “to help us in that. At the very least the villain should have a real trial!” She stood and walked around the table, bending down to engulf him in hug. “In the meantime, you have family right here!”

He hugged her back as the girls crowded around and made it a group hug.

۸- ̰ -۸

Castor Searle looked at the paperwork on his desk and wished he were out on a case. He hated the paperwork that came with this job. On the other hand, he wasn’t jumping out of airplanes in the dead of night to exchange weapon’s fire with unseen opponents while trying to infiltrate enemy positions.

Still — he made an expression of revulsion — paperwork.

“Detective Inspector?”

Castor Searle looked up from his desk. “Ah, P.C. Havers. What can I do for you?”

“Well, you know that child abuse case we have in Little Whinging? Pulled them in about three weeks ago?”

He nodded. He certainly knew of it. It still pissed him off to think people could treat a child like that. On one hand, he was glad he wasn’t involved. Those cases were always depressing. On the other, he wished he could be the one to ensure the parents wouldn’t enjoy their next few years because they would be spending them at one of Her Majesty’s Resorts. Preferably one somewhere very cold, perhaps an island in the North Sea, with inadequate or no heating, bad food, and unpleasant guards who enjoyed making their charges miserable.

Not that any of the Queens properties fit that description. But one could dream, couldn’t they?

“I went around there earlier today, to check on the house? Maybe talk with the neighbours?”

He nodded again. Nothing wrong with checking back on a case. Make sure nobody had tried to vandalize the home of the “suspects.” Maybe even scrounge up a witness missed in the original canvass of the neighbourhood.

“Well, they’re all gone.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“The entire street is gone.”

He raised an eyebrow.

She flushed. “I mean, the houses are all empty except for a couple by the playpark. No cars in the garage drives. No furniture in the houses. And there’s something going on in the forest right there, too. There seems to be an inordinate amount of traffic. Foot traffic, that is. There’s a path into the woods that wasn’t there last month. Odd for an area people are moving away from.”

“And what did P.C. Stanford have to say? Little Whinging is his constabulary.” He paused. “You don’t think someone is trying to interfere with the witnesses, do you?”

“That was my first thought, too.” She sighed. “He says the entire estate seems to be moving out. But all our witnesses have left him with forwarding information, so we can contact them if we need to. They appeared quite happy to be moving, no real regrets at all.” She frowned. “He thinks it’s some big company buying up the land for an industrial site, but I don’t know. Something about it makes me . . . nervous. The few people I did meet there . . . well . . . they’re all foreigners. And they didn’t strike me as the business types. Far from it, in fact. They were all a bit too . . . focused, I guess I’d say.”

He sat still for a moment. In the Sport and Social you listened to those kinds of things. Usually, they meant nothing. But sometimes they did mean something. And when they did, you ignored them at your own peril.

He sighed. When he had been young and foolish, he had wanted adventure. He had wished for excitement.

And he had received his wish in the military, the Special Air Service, the S.A.S., the Sport and Social, as the members called it. For twenty years. He had learned the meaning of the first Chinese Curse of Life, “May your wishes be granted.”

Now, seven years after retirement, he wanted something a bit quieter. Not as strenuous. Or dangerous. And being a Detective Inspector in the Surrey Constabulary fit that nicely. Except for the paperwork. That he could do without.

He had the feeling, though, that once again, someone was going to get the short end of the stick and have a nastily unpleasant time of it. He just hoped it wasn’t going to be him. And yet, somehow, he kind of expected it to be him. Besides, as Tom in his old platoon used to say, “It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you!” and, “There’s no such thing as paranoia, just the cautious and the dead.”

Seeing his blank expression, she hurriedly added, “Yankees, if I had to guess.”

He stared at her a bit longer before pushing back from his desk. “Let’s have a look, then, shall we? I needed to take a breather from this paperwork, anyway.”

Half-an-hour later they were slowly cruising up the main street in Little Whinging. So far, nothing appeared amiss. The traffic might be lighter than normal for a small town, but there could be most anything responsible for that.

Cruising down Privet Drive through Wisteria Estate, though, was surreal. It wasn’t a gated estate, but it did have limited access through three streets, none a through-street. Just a small hundred-acre estate for suburbans who all worked in the London metro area.

It was mid-August, there should be children out and about on such a nice sunny Friday, as it was. Instead, there weren’t any signs of life at all. It was so quiet he could easily hear the traffic from the town centre.

He pulled over midway down Privet Drive and walked up to number Fourteen, P.C. Havers followed in his wake. Standing on the porch, he could see through the front widows that the sitting-room was completely devoid of furniture. He walked over to number Sixteen to see the same emptiness. He crossed the street to numbers Thirteen and Eleven. He looked back at number Four. A bobby had already removed the police crime-scene tape. It appeared as if the owners had just stepped out, the curtains closed. The only house on the street with curtains.

He looked down the street and frowned. The entire area was eerily quiet and empty. He half-expected spooky music to start playing in the background. Music like that in an alien-invasion film, with alien monsters hiding in the back-gardens and on the roofs. Spying on them and waiting for the chance to ambush them.

He couldn’t say why, but he knew he was being watched by unfriendly eyes.

They went back to the car and continued. They stopped in front of number Eleven Magnolia Road. Two streets over and it was one of three houses in the estate with curtains in the windows. The owner of the second house, on Wisteria Walk, had been out, apparently. The row of cats inside on the sitting-room window-sill had watched them carefully as the two officers looked around. He spotted another half-dozen under the bushes.

Perhaps they had been what set off his uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Cats did wander all over neighbourhoods, and he wouldn't see one hiding under a bush a few houses away.

Castor had been rather relieved, truthfully, that she was out. Cat-ladies were always a bit difficult to interview. They paid far more attention to their cats than any questions he asked. And, as far as he knew, she had nothing to do with the investigation into number Four Privet Drive.

Number Eleven, when he arrived at the door, had no cats in evidence. At least, not that he could see through the open curtains in the front window.

He knocked energetically on the door. After a brief wait, he knocked again. This time he heard someone moving about inside. He knocked again. After a moment, the door opened and a deeply-tanned woman appeared. She was of medium build, and tall enough to look him in the eyes. She wasn’t wearing heels. She appeared fit, as if she worked out on a regular basis, and he gauged her age at somewhere in the mid-twenties. Her dress appeared to be specially tailored, hugging her form, yet not being too tight, and was knee-length. From her points, it was obvious she wasn’t wearing underwear. The most striking things about her, though, were her lime-green eyes and bright-blue hair — hair which fell all the way to her waist.

“Hi! What can I do for you?” she said cheerily.

Dragging his attention from her . . . hair, he smiled and said, “Hello. I am Detective Inspector Castor Searle and this is P.C. Havers.” He nodded his head in her direction. “We noticed that this street seems to have a lot of vacant homes. I just wanted to let you know that we will be making regular patrols to discourage any vandalism.”

The house was dead silent behind her. Nothing to indicate anyone else was present. Nor were the radio or telly on. He idly wondered what she had been doing. She didn’t look as if she’d been having a lie-down.

“Oh! That’s good to know. Will the patrols be regular or random? Once a day or more often? Any particular times we should watch for?”

He blinked. That was an odd reaction. “Random, mostly. I expect perhaps once during the day and once in the late evening. Sometimes only once a day. If you happen to notice any people around the vacant houses, please let us know and we’ll send a patrol right around to check on things.”

She nodded. “That’s good to know. Thank you.” She stood smiling at him.

Something about her stance bothered him. Her hand on the door’s edge was for more than simply holding the door open. “You haven’t noticed anything in the last few weeks have you?” he said. “No strangers walking around and peering in houses or doing anything you might regard as suspicious?”

She gave him a cheeky grin, “Only yourself and the young lady.” She nodded to P.C. Havers.

He stared at her a moment before quirking up the corner of his mouth. “Well, yes.” He nodded. “It’s good to see that you are keeping your eyes open. We wouldn’t want any criminals setting up shop in a back-garden here, now would we?”

“I quite understand. We certainly wouldn’t want that.” she said agreeably, and gave him a wide smile. “And I’ll keep a sharp eye out for you. If I see anything you need to be concerned about, I’ll be sure to notify you.”

Something about the way she worded that set him on edge. And how had she known he had been looking in the windows of houses not even on this street? He nodded again and drew a card out of his pocket. “Here’s my office card, just give me a ring if you see or hear anything suspicious.”

She took the card and stared at it for a moment. “I will certainly do that, Detective Inspector Castor Searle.”

There was something unsettling about her.

“Well, thank you very much, Miss . . . ?”

Still smiling, she said, “Emerald Arrow.”

He stared at her, wondering briefly if she was having him on. But she seemed quite serious. “Well,” he said, “That was all I wanted to say. Good afternoon, Miss Arrow.” As he turned, he noticed her giving him a puzzled look. It was quick, just the slight creasing on her forehead, but it was there. What had he said to prompt that reaction? He and Havers headed back to the car.

He heard the door shut behind them. As he got into the car he could see her standing in the middle of the sitting-room, and peering out at them through the windows. She made no effort to hide the fact that she was watching them. She even gave them a friendly smile and a little wave.

Once more sitting in the car, he said, “Definitely an American accent there, but the name is most unusual. She doesn’t have the facial cast to be an American Indian — I wonder if it’s a stage name. The hair colour is a little unusual — unusually long, too. Don’t meet many women willing to put up with the time it takes for hair that long. Seems nice enough.” He looked Havers. “Odd reaction, though. Most people just acknowledge we are watching, they don’t ask us for the schedule.”

She nodded. “I noticed that. And she was watching both of us, not just you because you were the one talking.” She frowned. “In fact, she seemed to be watching me more than you.”

“Yes, I saw that, too. She’s had military training. Situational awareness. Not sure why she watched you instead of me as the higher rank.”

He pursed his lips, thinking. He started the car and drove into the layby in front of the playpark just a few meters down the street.

No kids at all in the park. Highly unusual for a sunny summer Friday. He got out and walked through the wrought-iron gates and over to the swings and slides. They had all been vandalized and needed repainting or repair. However, the damage wasn’t recent — he could tell by the faint signs of rust starting to show on the scratched metal. The grass, on the other hand, had been recently mowed, so the parks and recreation department had been by.

“We’re being watched.”

He looked over at Barbara. She was over by the teeter-totters. She tilted her head over towards a park bench. That was . . . different. There hadn’t been anyone there when they had pulled up. The man sitting on the bench at the opposite end of the park was wearing a casual suit that wouldn’t be out of place in any business in London. Here, in an empty park in an almost deserted neighbourhood? No, that wasn’t right. Where had he come from? He wasn’t from any of the nearby houses, that was for sure. They were all vacant. And a farm surrounded the rest of the playpark.

The man appeared to be just enjoying the sun, with only occasional glances in their direction. Oddly, he seemed more interested in watching Havers than Castor, the officer noticed, as she wandered over to look at the climbing bars.

Searle noted the path by the man’s bench that led from the playpark into the forest. For a moment, he thought he saw someone else farther down that path. He squinted slightly. It was difficult to see much in the comparatively dark forest. There didn’t appear to be anyone in there, though. He pursed his lips, thinking.

They went back to the car and Searle drove to the end of the street, onto another, then turned around and parked where they could see partially into the playpark. The park bench by the path was empty. He knew they were being watched.

He sat there mulling over what he seen. This was not just some big company buying property. A commercial enterprise would have obvious guards walking or driving through to protect their newly acquired property. At the very least they would have posted signs that the area was under regular surveillance to discourage any unsavoury characters from setting up shop or doing mischief.

These people were being secretive. Miss Emerald Arrow was not a simple housewife. They were being watched from cover.

He watched as a woman with bright-red waist-length hair crossed the street from number Eleven Magnolia Road and down the path by the bench into the forest. Her movements were not stealthy in the slightest. In fact, she stumbled on something he couldn’t see and almost fell.

He considered whether to explore the paths, both the one in the park and the one beside number Twenty-eight, the last house before the park on that side of the street. However, if something . . . illicit . . . was in progress, just the two of them stumbling upon it might lead to consequences they would regret. He needed more information before taking that particular course of action.

After another fifteen minutes, he drove down the street past the park. He slowed to take a look at the path that led into the forest across from number Twenty-eight. Again, he thought he saw someone farther inside the forest, but when he took a longer look, nothing was there.

۸-_-۸

Castor looked around the office of Title Deeds and Records as he walked up to the counter.

“What can I do for you governor?” Harris said.

Castor frowned at the flippant clerk. He handed him his card with Privet Drive, Magnolia Circle, and Wisteria Way written on it. “Could you get me the last month’s conveyances on these streets in the Wisteria Estate?”

“Something wrong?” asked the gossip.

“Nothing at all. A mate is looking for a house out this way. Thought I’d check the prices in Little Whinging. Seems a nice enough place.”

“Might be more difficult than you thought, D.I. Searle. Been a right lot of activity in Little Whinging this last month. Some big corporation is snapping ’em up left and right. Here it is!” He hit a button and a printer began buzzing below the counter. “Call themselves, ‘Royal Equestrian Properties,’ they do.” He stared at his terminal. “They’ve bought over a hundred properties in the last month! Even that farm that wraps the playpark. Odd thing though, they’re paying market values for all of them.” He looked up at Castor. “I’d expect housing prices to spike right quick once word got out about them acquiring, but they’re dead level, they are.”

He raised his eyebrows looking at the screen. “Spent quite a load of quid, they did, anyway! Four or five million if I’m adding this right. Blimey! Almost everything in a half-a-kilometre of the playpark is theirs, now.” He pulled the printed continuous-stationery pages from the printer’s basket and put them up on the counter.

“Ah, well, then,” Castor said wistfully, “I guess Little Whinging is right out. Still, the conveyance prices will be a help for budgeting.” He stepped back from the counter. “Thanks for your help.” He grabbed the pages, absentmindedly folding the edge perforations and tearing off the sprocket-hole strips. He dropped the waste in a bin by the door on his way out.

۸-_-۸

Castor looked at his watch. His shift had another hour. And the papers he had collected this afternoon were more than a bit unsettling. It was probably nothing, but, still . . . .

He parked the cruiser down the street where he could see the front of number Eleven Magnolia Road while being out of sight of the residents unless they physically stepped outside.

And absolutely nothing happened for over two hours. No cars, no lorries, no people. He might have been in a ghost-town if it weren’t for the sounds from the town centre, not that far away. At seven, four children and two adults came out of the house. Neither of the two adults, he noted, were Emerald Arrow. Both were attractive and had waist-length hair — one’s hair was purple and the other a dark-purple with a pink stripe. He watched them cross the street into the forest.

They hadn’t returned after half-an-hour and it was starting to get dark. What could they be doing? Camping in that part of the forest was illegal. He started the engine and drove down the street. He stopped briefly in front of the house. It was completely dark, no lights on at all. It might as well be as vacant as the other houses on the street.

He pulled forward towards the park and looked at the dirt path.

Emerald Arrow was standing there. The street light there was out, the only one out in the entire development. But she was still clearly visible — it wasn’t completely dark, yet. And there was only darkness behind her, no signs of a campfire or any other illumination. Where had those people gone?

He pulled across the street and rolled down the window.

She smiled at him, stepped up to the car, bent down, and said, ‘One of your random patrols?’

He grinned back at her, trying to put her at ease. He pointedly did not look at what was on display. He hadn’t realized the neck of her dress plunged quite that far, nor that it was so loose, when they had met earlier. “That’s right. Might as well get off to a good start!”

She looked down the street, then back at him and said, “Don’t get much patrolling done if you’re stopped at the end of the street for two and a half hours.”

“Just familiarizing myself with the area,” he explained.

She nodded cordially, and said, “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

He stared at her a moment.

Then she said, “Well, next time you’re in the neighbourhood, say tomorrow at ten, drop in for tea. You might meet someone important.”

“Really?” he said.

She nodded amiably. “Yes. I suggest you be on time.”

He sighed. “I’ll be seeing you, then,” he said.

“Yes,” she said as she straightened, “you will.” She stepped back, still smiling.

He drove back to the station, deep in thought.

Perhaps it was all his imagination. Perhaps it was coincidence. Perhaps it was all above-board and he was reading things into an innocent situation. Perhaps he was the Queen.

۸-ꞈ-۸

41 — And You Thought it Would Be Easy!

Author's Note

Wow! The number of comments has officially passed the number of views!
Yeah! Here's another chapter to celebrate!
(and remember, another extra chapter at the 700 likes mark)

41 — And You Thought it Would Be Easy!

Horrified, Castor stared at the badge on the desk in from of him. He had only thought things couldn’t get worse. There went all hope he had that he could return to his pedestrian job as Detective Inspector at the Surrey Police Department. He looked back up at Sir Patrick Jeremy Walker, Director General of M.I.5, who was leaning back in his chair behind his desk, his hands steepled in front of him.

After Sunday’s meeting had broken up, he had expected that today, Monday, would be spent in his office working on all the files he hadn’t finished Friday. Instead, there had been a message waiting for him to go to the Thames House in London, immediately. He had assumed it was for a further debriefing.

What the Detective Inspector hadn’t expected was for the head of M.I. 5 to say, “Pursuant to your activation in the S.A.S., you have been transferred to Military Intelligence Department Five. Here is your badge.” He had then dropped a leather badge-wallet on his desk, opened, with the appropriate identification card and security clearances listed for Searle.

“You are to report directly to me, or my secretary if I am unavailable. Your assignment is to watch over and safeguard the Equestrians.” He paused. “You are not James Bond. You are not spying on them. You are their Concierge. You are to expedite any requests the Equestrians may have. If they want something done, do it, as long as it does not endanger the United Kingdom or any of our allies. If someone has a problem with the Equestrians, you will handle it for them.

“You are expected to deliver, daily, a written or verbal summary of your activities with the Equestrians, as well as any issues you think we should know about. If they ask you to keep a secret, you may do so unless you feel it conflicts with the security interests of the United Kingdom. You will inform them of any such conflicts, unless you think doing so would put yourself in physical danger.

“Use your discretion!

“We want them to trust us, to want to trade with us. Anything you can do to foster that relationship? Do it — as long as it is legal. If you need to talk with a lawyer to determine that, my secretary can direct you to someone on the department’s legal team.

“I want to be clear on this. Your assignment is to be as helpful as possible to them. You are not, however, empowered to circumvent or break the law. If they have a request that you cannot fulfil, bring it to me. If I can’t do it, I will take it to the Prime Minister.”

He leaned forward to stare at Castor. “This is an extremely important assignment, as I’m sure you know. The Equestrians seem comfortable with you. While others have more training, there’s no guarantee that whomever we send over would be acceptable to them.

“Naturally, you will receive an upgrade in pay.” He sighed. “You can, of course, refuse.”

He sat back and waited.

Castor was stuck. No bloody way could he refuse. He had been re-activated. If he said, “no,” he might find himself sent into training for the next six months in some place he couldn’t pronounce the name of — just to make sure he didn’t talk about what he knew of the aliens.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if this was some terrible imposition. His hours wouldn’t be any more irregular than they were now — police cases rarely worked on a nine-to-five schedule. And the Equestrians were rather nice people, and very adorable and cute ponies. He could think of much worse assignments. Plus, the increase in pay would be nice, too. And seeing a new world might be fun. And, after all, it couldn’t get much worse than it already was, now could it?

He smiled at the Director General and picked the badge-wallet up off the desk. “I would be a fool to say ‘no,’ sir.

“Excellent!” said Walker as he stood up and extended his hand. “Welcome to the Department.” He tapped a button on the intercom on his desk, “James Wootton, my secretary, will show you to your office and help you get settled in. He’ll also set up the paperwork for the Surrey Police to let them know you were ‘poached’ by Scotland Yard, and to give you a week to get your affairs in Surrey in order.” He paused a moment. “Oh, yes, you will officially keep your rank as Detective Inspector.”

“He’ll also brief you on what to say to the Equestrians regarding their request for an Embassy, and supply any necessary materials.”

۸- ̰ -۸

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, Prince Blueblood, Lady Rarity, Lady Applejack, Lady Rainbow Dash, Lady Fluttershy, Lady Pinkie Pie, Detective Inspector Castor Searle is here,” Miss Arrow said as she conducted him into the sitting-room, with a chorus of “Hellos” and “Hi’s.” The Princess was standing by the fireplace, slightly swaying as she shifted her balance from foot to foot. The others were seated either in an armchair, on the couch, or peeking from behind it in the case of the woman with the bright-pink hair.

It was the day after his “promotion.” And a very taxing day it had been as Wootton had been extremely thorough in bringing Castor up-to-date on the rules and regulations he now had to follow. As well as briefing him on what the department expected from him in the way of reports. Just what he needed, more paperwork.

“Good afternoon, your Highnesses, Ladies,” he said bowing. He nodded to the solicitor standing to one side. “As I mentioned when I called yesterday, I have some good news for you, and a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

They watched him intently.

“First, the Prime Minister, on behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, and Defender of the Faith, is more than pleased to grant your request for an Embassy.”

The Princess began hopping up and down excitedly. “Yes! I knew this would work! Yes! Yes!” Lady Pinkie Pie was waving a flag that said “Hurray!” and throwing confetti everywhere. The other ponies seemed similarly pleased. The Prince sighed and rolled his eyes at the other’s antics.

Castor made a mental note to bring over a fashion expert to explain a few facts about undergarments, and why women chose to wear them.

“Because you do not yet have a chancery, a building of your own,” he continued once the others had managed to quiet down the excitable Princess, “the Prime Minister is offering you the use of a three-room office suite in the Foreign & Commonwealth Office on King Charles Street in London, if you wish, until such a time as you complete the construction of one here in Little Whinging on the land you have purchased, or purchase a building elsewhere to suit your needs. Whatever your decision regarding the placement of your Embassy, the land you have purchased here in Little Whinging will be considered Equestrian soil under your diplomatic control.

“The government will supply you with a car and driver to transport you to and from your temporary office at Foreign & Commonwealth Office, should you decide to avail yourself of that offer, at your convenience, as well as any other assistance you might require.”

He nodded towards the window, through which a Landrover limousine could be seen parked in the street, the driver apparently reading a newspaper.

Searle smiled tightly, “Mr. Carroll, he’s the one who went through the portal, has volunteered to be your liaison at the Foreign & Commonwealth Office should you decide to take up that offer.”

“And, if you have no objections, I have been assigned to be your contact should you have any questions or need any services that aren’t related to diplomacy at the embassy.” He paused. “You can consider me your assistant. I can arrange meetings, transportation, tours, entertainment venues, whatever you need help with in our world, I will help you.”

He set his briefcase on the coffee table, opened it, and removed a folder. Miss Arrow pushed one of the armchairs over for him to sit in.

“First, though, the Prime Minister thought that you might want to construct your chancery right here in Little Whinging for easy access to, and to protect, the portal.” He held the thin folder out to the Princess, who eagerly took it and flipped it open. “The first page is a list of architects who are familiar with governmental buildings and have solid reputations, the second page is a list of reputable builders who are similarly familiar with government contracts.” He pulled out a thick book. “We don’t know what you require in your buildings, however we have many building codes regarding safety and health that must be factored into the design and construction of a building. This book,” he set in on the table, “lists all the building codes currently in law.” The princess snatched the book up soo fast he almost thought she had pulled it through the air without touching it. She started flipping the pages.

“We suggest that your architect work with one of those on that list to make sure the finished building meets both our building codes and your requirements.” He closed the briefcase and set it to the side. “I don’t know how you do it where you come from, but the normal procedure here is to consult with an architect on what you want built. He will help you put together a design package encompassing those requirements and suggesting a preliminary design.

“Once that is finalized, he will help you put it out for a competition to other architects to design the actual building, or compound, using the guidelines you provided. They, in turn, will each put together several proposals on what the finished building will look like and exactly what it will incorporate. You pick the one you feel is the best for your needs, and fits your budget.

“Then the winning architect will put together a complete package of drawings on the building or compound, which will then be placed to open bid by the builders. Generally, the builder with the lowest offer wins the bid. Then construction can begin.”

“There is one slight problem,” he said. “The playpark and forest properties are all classified as ‘Green Space.’” He smiled at their questioning looks. “Green Space is property that has been set aside in order to preserve the rural atmosphere of the countryside and prevent over-building.” He smiled wryly. “We’re trying to prevent turning everything around London into one giant city, you see.” He sighed as Mr. Yueshi nodded in agreement. “The Prime Minister suggests that you offer some of the property you’ve purchased in trade to preserve the total acreage allocated to the Green Space. Or purchase extra property for that purpose.” Castor pulled out another folder and handed it to the princess. “This is a list of properties around Surrey where additional Green Spaces would be appreciated, if you can’t acquire any in Little Whinging itself. Naturally, the Prime Minister will do what he can to expedite the arrangements.

“It appears that you have purchased about a hundred and forty acres, which is more than adequate for an Embassy compound. Whichever architect you select will be able to advise on the best manner in which to use the properties you own.”

He sighed. “I’ve been told that such large building projects usually take several years to complete the process, from inception of planning until the building is ready for occupancy.” He smiled. “Depending on how flexible you are in your needs, and how intricate the building is, it could take less time.”

The Equestrians were staring at him as if he were quite mad.

“You do all that?” asked Lady Rarity, somewhat breathlessly.

“Just for a measly two or three floor building?” said Lady Dash.

“Woah,” said Lady Jack.

Prince Blood looked as if he had bitten into something foul.

“They built the Palace in Canterlot in only seventy-six days and five hours! And it’s huge!” said Princess Sparkle.

Pinkie Pie recovered first, “Well, sillies,” she said cheerfully, “They do have to do everything by hoof, don’t they?”

They all got the same look of “Oh!” as if they had realized something important.

Realizing he had an opportunity, Castor asked, “Oh, you have different building techniques?”

The Equestrians exchanged guilty looks. The Princess nodded, “Yes, we do.”

“Well, we do have those pictures of that wall from the other side of the portal . . . how long did that take to build, for example? Or was it already in place when you found the portal?”

“Oh,” Princess Sparkle said, thinking, “No, it was all a dense forest before we found the portal.” She paused and thought a moment. “Well, let’s see. The portal is about half a kilometre inside the Everfree Forest.” She gave him a steady look. “The Everfree is a very dangerous forest with bears, timber-wolves, manticores, and other deadly predators in abundance. So, we had to clear the area and thin out the trees, reroute a stream or two. The walls are about . . . oh, forty of your meters high and four meters thick. They run all the way from the portal to the edge of the forest. Then we built the paths and planted the grass to make it look nice. Plus there are the buildings Mr. Carroll didn’t see, the soldiers’ barracks, a hotel for visitors, and administration buildings.” She nodded to herself. “But the walls themselves, we had them complete in about two weeks.” She smiled at him. “Work went faster once the walls were high enough to deter predators from attacking over them, so some of the soldiers could pitch in to building. And that was with constant non-stop work with a construction crew of about four hundred ponies.”

Castor tried to keep a straight face. The ponies built a wall that tall and over a kilometre long in two weeks? From the pictures it had looked like it had been there for years! And they didn’t have hands! He would have expected such an endeavour to take years of hard labour.

“Once that was done, we finished the other buildings. They took about three weeks.”

Then he realized something she had said.

“Manticores?” Bears and wolves he would sort of expect.

“Yes.” She frowned. “I don’t suppose you have them here.” She sighed “It’s a creature that has a lion’s head and body, bat-like wings, and a scorpion’s stinger tail. It’s about twice as tall as you are. They eat ponies if they can catch them.” She looked down at the floor. “Most creatures in the Everfree forest do.” She looked up and smiled again. “However, they rarely leave the forest because they know what would happen to them if they did.”

He stared at her. “Actually, if I remember correctly, we do have ancient Greek legends of beasts like that.”

“Really?” She was suddenly excited, and then she frowned. “I knew I should have read those mythology books first.” she said to herself.

Lady Jack cleared her throat. “Twilight, focus.”

“And that brings up another question I have,” he said, forcing himself back to his list of questions. “How do you want us to present this to the public? We can keep this quiet for a little while, but people are going to find out about it, especially once you officially invest your office at the Foreign & Commonwealth Office and start taking bids on constructing your chancery. We can ask the architects to keep quiet on the details inside the building, but someone will talk, even if only to a girlfriend, and mention that there’s a chancery being planned. Then the newspapers will hear about it and start asking questions.”

The Equestrians looked thoughtful. “Well,” said the Princess, “Now that we have permission, we can secure the area around the portal tonight. Build a short wall of about three meters high. That should keep curiosity seekers out of mischief until we replace it with something more robust.” She grinned at him. “Nothing quite as intimidating as the Everfree Wall. Then we can prepare the portal grounds like we did on the other side. Make it more park-like and inviting.” The others were nodding.

“Don’t forget to leave tunnels and holes for the forest creatures, we don’t want to separate them from their friends,” said Lady Fluttershy.

Castor nodded. He would have to alert Field Marshal Hurd. He would want to make sure they had the area monitored to see if they could pick up the construction activity. And speed up the placement of some long-range camera crews just outside the areas purchased by the Equestrians.

“That seems reasonable,” he said aloud. “And hold off on the public announcement until word gets out? Then do a big reveal?”

They all nodded. Lady Dash was staring off into the distance, clearly not paying any attention. Prince Blood also appeared disinterested, but Castor could see he was carefully listening.

“Excellent. In the meantime, we can work on how we want to proceed with things once we decide to make the announcement.”

He paused to gather his thoughts.

“Now then, I do have a few questions for you.”

The Princess nodded and waited.

“This person who found the portal last year. Can you tell me more about him?”

The reaction he got surprised him, it wasn’t what he expected at all. The entire group stiffened up, even Prince Blood. He had touched a nerve.

Under other circumstances, Castor would have been worried about that. However, the tailored-dresses the women wore didn’t leave much room for any sort of weapons, or much for the imagination, either. Even the ‘bodyguards’ seemed unarmed.

Prince Blood might have had a weapon, but his aloof demeanour gave Castor the impression that he would never deign to carry anything so uncouth as a weapon. And Lin, of course, was a solicitor, not a guard, soldier, or thug.

And when they had transformed previously, there hadn’t been any signs of weapons, either.

Twilight took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry, but . . . the person wishes to remain anonymous.” She paused a moment, thinking.

“Let’s just say that this person has had a rough time in your world and is . . . reluctant for anyone from your world finding . . . them,” she said the pronoun very carefully, Castor noticed, implying that maybe the gender being specified was incorrect. “When we first discovered that . . . they . . . knew where the portal was . . . they refused to disclose its location in the fear they would be forced to leave the home they had created in our world and return here, permanently.” Twilight sighed as several of the others shook their heads, sadly.

“It was only when Princess Celestia directly requested that . . . they assist us, and that they wouldn’t be forced to remain here, that . . . they agreed.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she added quickly. “The person was very forthcoming in what they knew about your world, and helped us come up with an effective strategy in dealing with this world, such as hiring a competent lawyer . . . solicitor, and having him help us acquire property and convert our gems to your money system.” She shook her head slightly, half-smiling. “Most of the advice on what we should do was ‘Ask the solicitor.’ The almanac they provided, though, was a tremendous help in preparing us for your world. And Rarity practically swooned when she saw that issue of Vogue magazine.” She smirked at the other woman, who merely returned her look with a raised eyebrow.

“And that person did accompany us through the portal the first few times, to guide us around the area and help us avoid the worst mistakes.”

Castor turned and looked at the solicitor.

Lin smiled and cleared his throat. “Professional privilege, Mr. Searle, professional privilege.” He paused. “I can state, however, that this person has committed no crimes while under the legal jurisdiction of the United Kingdom, either previous to accessing the portal nor upon any of his or her ventures back through it. And that his or her reasons for wishing to remain in Equestria are strictly personal.”

He shook his head slightly. “Unless you can show legitimate cause as to why my clients should divulge any further information on this individual, my clients have nothing farther to say on this matter.”

Well, that certainly put paid to that line of inquiry. Castor nodded his understanding, “I see.” On to the next area of inquiry.

“You mentioned that Equestria is the largest country on your planet. What are some of the other countries?”

She wriggled happily in place and smiled at him. “I knew you would ask that question. I knew your scientists would be interested.” She reached into a bag lying beside her chair, pulled out a tightly rolled paper and handed it to him.

Castor took and unrolled it while he leaned back in his chair. He frowned as he examined it. If he didn’t know that they really were aliens he would have suspected them of having him on.

The paper was a map. With legends he could read. The scientists would go mad when they saw it.

“Well, I believe I already mentioned the Crystal Empire, that’s to the north of Equestria,” the Princess said while he looked at the map. “To the far east are the Dragons Lair and Griffonstone. Then there’s Saddle Arabia, Fancy, the Isles of Scaly, Abyssinia, Panthera, Hippogriffia, Yakyakistan, Mustangia, Maretonia, Monacolt, and Maretania — those last four are actually kingdoms inside Equestria — and then there’s Drungar and Zorgath. There are others, but those are the major ones.”

“Seriously?” he asked. “Half these names,” he tapped the map, “sound like creatures from earth mythology, and the others are puns or plays on names on Earth!”

Twilight frowned. “Yes,” she said. “I noticed that myself. Quite odd. I can’t help but wonder if there was another portal a few thousand years ago and there was some back and forth crossing by various creatures.” She shook herself in excitement. “But that doesn’t explain the close correlation between Equestrian city names and and those on Earth, especially as many of the Earth cities did not exist five hundred years ago. Manehattan for Manhattan, Fillydelphia, for Philadelphia, it’s just too odd to be mere coincidence.”

She smiled, “But researching that is going to be so much fun! Is there a mental leakage between our two worlds? Tiny portals too small to notice, but they let thoughts through?” Her smile got bigger and slightly creepy. “Or have other ponies slipped through and talked of the Equestrian places while here?” She was rocking side-to-side in her chair. She shot a look at her friends. “Discord, perhaps?”

Castor frowned. Was that a person or something else?

“Not now,” admonished Lady Rarity, “later, Twilight.”

Pouting a bit, Twilight settled back into her chair and sighed again.

As interesting and perturbing as those thoughts were, Castor decided to let others worry about them. He carefully put the map, once again rolled, into his briefcase and leaned back.

He took a breath. “And finally, how would we establish an Embassy on your side of the portal?”

That generated another set of guilty looks.

“That,” said Princess Sparkle, “is going to be . . . complicated.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Not that we don’t want you to set up an Embassy,” she rushed to reassure him. “It’s just that, well, your people have to adapt to our world. As one of your people has already experienced, becoming a pony makes doing even the simplest of tasks difficult. You have to learn to walk. And using utensils with hooves is not a trivial exercise. Learning how to mouth-write takes years of practice.”

She nodded her head to one side, “Of course, you could just send over people who don’t transform. However, we have no knowledge of how you will adapt to our world in the long term if you retain your original form.” She paused and thought deeply. She took a deep breath and sighed. She looked at the others. She stared at Prince Blood for the longest time. He stared back, then shrugged. “They will find out in time,” he said quietly. “And why should we hide that which makes us naturally superior to all?” He paused, then added, “Besides, hiding an important secret from someone you want to be a good friend is bad form. When they find out about it, it could set all your progress back to the beginning, only now you have a hurdle of distrust to clear.”

That statement set off alarm-bells in Castor’s mind. Naturally superior? It was never a good thing when a group decided they were ‘naturally superior’ to others. And an important secret? Perhaps why they are the lead country in their world? No matter what they said, it was going to force a re-evaluation of the Prime Minister’s plans.

She nodded. Then nodded again, more resolutely. She looked back up Castor.

“This is something that you absolutely must keep a secret for as long as possible. We have many reasons for keeping this a secret in your world, not the least is your own history regarding how your people react to it. Everyone who has come through the portal has sworn to keep this secret unless lives are in danger. You should tell your Queen and Prime Minister. Let them decide who learns this information, but we ask that your government restrict it only to those who truly, Need. To. Know.”

He slowly nodded back at her. The rabbit hole was about to get even deeper, he felt.

He watched, stunned, as his briefcase floated up. A moment later, he noticed the book he had given the Princess floating at her side. He looked over at the others to see what their reactions were, and saw tea cups floating in front of Prince Blood and Lady Rarity. The solicitor was looking at him, smirking.

“Magic is real.”

۸- ̫ -۸

57 — Communication, That’s The Key!

Author's Note

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Here's a chapter to celebrate!
Next goal, 1,000 Likes for an extra chapter!

57 — Communication, That’s The Key!

Outside of that bit of excitement, lunch was lunch, and Harry was pleased to see that Myrtle was enjoying herself — and eating enough to feed his cousin and uncle . . . twice! At least she wasn’t weepy and depressed as she had been as a ghost. And the fillies were slowly adapting to the heavy meat and sweets diet presented by the house-elves. Although the fillies, and most of the other younger students, Harry noticed, preferred the sugar-rich sweets to the boring meats and vegetables that also appeared on the table. But, then again, the ponies seemed to like a sugar-rich diet back home as well.

Having never had the chance to enjoy sweets as a younger child, Harry hadn’t developed as much a sweet tooth as a human and actually preferred the fruits and vegetables — although the treacle pudding had found a special place in his heart . . . er, stomach, that is. And then there were the muffins and cupcakes Pinkie provided . . . .

The Slytherins were unusually quiet, however. And the looks some of the older wizards were casting at the animagi were . . . disturbing. Harry was positive he saw one wizard smiling and trying to catch Hermione’s eye. Not that she noticed, being more involved with planning experiments with Ginny in mapping out how their pony-forms could use magic effectively.

The afternoon was spent playing a modified version of dodgeball as ponies — they used their wands to shoot colour spells at each other. Harry and Sweetie Belle had some difficulty adapting to using their wands instead of their horns, which ended with them being tagged out a quite bit more frequently. As-in, almost immediately! Not only were any spells sent by their horns not counted, they had to concentrate harder to direct their magic to their wands, creating delays which made their reactions that much slower. Hermione didn’t have that habit to break.

By the time dinner rolled around, they were pretty exhausted. Both from the physical exercise and the magical casting. And Harry, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle looked as if they had been attacked by a demented paint-store.

They had learned that ponies holding a wand in their mouth could cast spells, rather well it seemed. The pegasi and earth ponies were more adept at it, having had to learn how to talk while picking up and carrying things in their mouths that unicorns had used magic to carry. Turning into a pony while holding the wand also worked at casting spells as a non-unicorn pony, but was very tiring — and you had to point your leg at your magical target.

But then again, some unicorns did that anyway back home. Or, at least, pointed in the general direction of where they were shooting a spell. Twilight did it frequently when she cast the teleport spell at someone or something.

While tired, Harry did notice that once again the animagi were the centre of many conversations. If the owlery hadn’t been already emptied, he was sure it would have been, again. Animagi that could use their wands was certainly newsworthy.

As on other nights, most of the Gryffindor wizards involved themselves in arm-wrestling, chess, and other activities that many of the older witches gigglingly called “manly.” It was a way to combat “. . . the deadly, emasculating cuteness of the little ponies,” claimed one Seventh Year student. Those big expressive eyes, trembling lower lips, ears that just had to be scratched, and ever-so-soft tummies that begged to be rubbed . . . they were just too cute. Resistance was futile, but at least they could reclaim some of their self-respect with some “manly” activities.

Others continued the marathon Monopoly tournament they had started previously — with one of the ponies close enough for petting when the game became too intense.

A new, and surprisingly popular “manly” activity, was exchanging hexes, gradually increasing in severity until the loser declared he was giving up. The twins had arranged a scoreboard with hex-off rounds leading winners higher and higher until — only one would survive. There was a lot of side-betting going on.

At first, Harry and Ron had resisted the witches’ pleas. Then they had realized that it was rather soothing. No matter how displeased one might be with the day, getting a good combing/petting restored one to equilibrium. And it felt just soo good. It even seemed to help Ron get over his disappointment and anger at his little sister infringing on his Hogwarts experience. Harry had expected Ron to be the most vocal in resisting the witches’ appeals, but he was usually one of the first to comply. The only qualification seemed to be that he wanted to be as far from his sister as he could get.

The pegasi found that human hands made preening their wings feathers much simpler and quicker. And preening, itself, was a soothing form of meditation for pegasi.

Harry did notice, though, that there seemed to be a few witches from the other Houses in their common room, sharing in the petting. No Slytherins, he was relieved to see.

Yes, it was good to be a pony with so many willing slaves . . . servants . . . friends, they were FRIENDS!

۸-_-۸

Looking back, Dumbledore had only thought Sunday was a long, tiring, aggravating, and unpleasant day. Monday was worse. Far, far worse.

Sunday had been mostly repetitious and boring in the extreme as he calmed frayed tempers and upset parents. The worst part had been dealing with the reporter from the Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter. She had spent most of the interview trying to get him to promise her a meeting with Harry Potter. For the greater good — and to shut her up — he had finally agreed to a short meeting next weekend. In exchange, he hoped, she would write a mostly truthful account of how Myrtle had been brought back to life. Without implying that everyone involved was a Dark Lord or Lady in training, of course.

He had even given her what he thought was a wonderful quote. After telling her, “It is not Necromancy as we commonly use the term. In fact, it is about giving genuine life back to one who lost it, the exact opposite of what most necromantic rituals achieve,” he had said. “It is an extremely powerful healing spell that, unfortunately, has a limited application. However, using an ancient ritual, these children have shown that under certain circumstances, death, like broken bones and other physical injuries, is not permanent.”

He had considered telling her it was a ritual that seized a person moments before they died and brought their body forward in time to merge with the ghost. But then the Ministry would insist the Unspeakables enforce the time-travel laws — he shuddered at the thought of losing an entire First Year class of any House. Not to mention what the Atlanteans would do if the Ministry harmed their children. Yes, that was a can of worms he did not want to open.

So, he had emphasized the healing part of the ritual when speaking to Rita, and hoped she would make that part the central point of her article.

It was a faint hope.

At least with the carrot of an exclusive Harry Potter interview in front of her she wouldn’t completely throw them to the Dark Side. Maybe he should have offered her chocolate chip cookies, too?

He sighed. What a horrible day Sunday had been. On the other hand, depending on what Rita wrote, today might be quiet and he might actually get done the work today that he needed done. And he could pretend yesterday hadn’t happened.

His floo suddenly burst into green flames. “Headmaster Dumbledore? Are you there?” came the cultured voice of Stephen Macmillian. “What’s this I read about foreigners teaching our children unapproved Dark Magic rituals?”

Dumbledore slumped in his chair for a moment before straightening. “Why don’t you come through, Stephen. I’m afraid Rita might be a bit sensational in her article. You know how she is.”

“I think I will.” His head disappeared. A moment later he was wanding away the soot on his clothes. He looked at the older wizard gravely. “Good morning, Headmaster,” he said, nodding his head.

The Headmaster stifled his desire to sigh, and, instead, greeted the other wizard with a smile. “Good morning, Stephen. Have a seat,” he said warmly, waving a hand at the armchair at the corner of his desk. “Would you like some tea?”

Dumbledore could see that the rest of the day was going to be as bad as yesterday. He would have to put off notifying Madam Bones about watching the Dursleys lest they, in a fit of spite, mention magic and the wizarding world.

This was not a time for people to start questioning his judgement. Not when Voldemort was attempting a comeback. He would need to make up a story for why the Dursleys’ knew about magic and wizards. One which wouldn’t lead the Aurors to Harry, and reveal his mistakes.

And explain why the Dursleys might be inclined to expect him to rescue them in exchange for their silence on the subject. He couldn’t afford to have his reputation tarnished at this point. Not now, not when Harry was at last attending Hogwarts and might need his political support to fend off wizards and witches looking to exploit the boy. Or manoeuvre him into a place where they could hurt him, either physically or politically.

Perhaps he could leak that a phoenix had taken up with Harry, just as Fawkes had taken up with him so very many years ago. He could even imply that the bird was Harry’s familiar, just as everyone thought Fawkes was his familiar. Coupled with the boy’s unicorn animagus form, it would give Dumbledore a stronger position in the Wizengamot as his mentor. And lay to rest any rumours that the foreign witches were corrupting the boy.

Yes, that would work out well. Between the power demonstrated in being an animagus, having a magical unicorn as that animagus, and having a phoenix as a familiar, as well . . . well, that would place Harry was very high on the “Light Wizard” scale.

Many of the politically Undecided wizards and witches in the Wizengamot would flock to the “Light” banner if he had Harry Potter’s endorsement, with those bona fides, allowing Dumbledore to pass some of those laws that he had sponsored previously that had failed. Not all would pass, of course, but with careful planning the really important changes would make it through. And it would move some of the less dedicated Dark families towards being Undecided. Things in the Wizengamot would still be balanced, just with a tilt more in the direction he thought England should move.

He nodded to himself in satisfaction.

Macmillian took that as permission to speak and began a tirade fuelled by Rita’s article.

When he stopped to take a breath, Dumbledore interrupted. “Did you, perchance, bring a copy of the Daily Prophet? I haven’t yet had the opportunity to acquaint myself with her article.”

Grumbling, the other wizard reached into his robe’s pocket and pulled out the paper. He handed it to the Headmaster and sat back to give him a moment to peruse it.

The floo flared green again. “Headmaster Dumbledore? Are you available?” came the refined voice of George Turpin.

He suppressed his sigh. It was going to be a very long day.

And the letters from the owls returning from Saturday’s mass exodus would be landing on his desk today, too, he remembered.

۸-ꞈ-۸

The parliament of owls that Monday morning was impressive, to say the least, as almost every witch received a letter. And many a wizard received a message, as well. The Firsties were especially grateful that they had been practicing their shield spells.

History of Magic still had no replacement, so they spent their time revising their Charms assignment and “reading” ahead by book-walking. Which made Charms itself almost tedious. Professor Flitwick didn’t seem to understand that they all had quite thoroughly covered the material he was presenting and wanted to get straight to the spell casting.

Still, the fact that half the Gryffindors managed the finite incantatem spell perfectly the very first time they tried it made the professor positively ecstatic. “Never! Never have I had so many students get the spell correct on the very first try,” he gleefully declared. “Two points each!”

Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm and squeezed it to keep her from blurting out that they had been using the spell almost daily back at the Weasley homestead for the last month. She shot him a wounded and upset look as he whispered, “Don’t, he’ll take the points back. Nobody knows we had permission from the Headmaster, and people will be jealous!” Somewhat mollified, she settled back in her chair, still glaring at him and rubbing her arm. Then she gave a small smile. She had never really had anyone get jealous of her abilities until she had started Hogwarts with her new friends. Well, jealous in a good way, that is, not being snide or critical of her in a hurtful manner.

The other Gryffindors, and the Hufflepuffs, took heart at how easy the others had made it look and the entire class was soon casting it correctly. Professor Flitwick rewarded their hard effort with an assignment-free night! A night which, Hermione declared on their way to lunch, they would spend studying ahead so they could do this again!

The cohort was undecided on whether studying ahead or doing assignments would be more tedious.

At lunch, the number of available bachelor wizards dropped more than little. Almost all the witches in all the Houses had seen Myrtle’s thoughtful looks at the wizards around her, and decided to strike first for the wizard they wanted. The creepy little smile she had while checking out the wizards at mealtimes had certainly helped in those decisions. Even Slytherin House sported a few less available wizards than the night before.

How long those couples would last as couples was another thing entirely. But, in the meantime, there was an awful lot of snogging going on in the third Year cohorts and above.

Myrtle, though, didn’t seem to care as she skipped merrily to her classes and greeted everyone with a giant smile. She positively lit up all her classes with her exuberance and joy at simply living. And she flirted with every wizard in sight. And some witches, as well, causing more than a little consternation.

The number of red faces she left in her wake was enlightening to those students who were smart enough to pay attention, and forced the twins to alter their betting system to include a few new options. The betting was heavy that by the weekend Myrtle wouldn’t be as “innocent” as she had been when she first became a ghost — in more ways than one.

۸- ̬ -۸

Transfigurations was another tedious class, with a lot of technical note-taking and warnings. Even the fun part was a bit boring. Now that they had all mastered changing a match into a needle, they worked on speeding up the process and making the needles fancier than before. For some reason, Professor McGonagall seemed tense whenever she looked at Harry and the fillies, as if she expected something to explode at any moment.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder if the Headmaster had told her about the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ reputation back in Ponyville that Rarity had recited that first day at the Weasleys’ farm. Or maybe he had shown her the letter from the Princesses.

Still. They were in her classroom. Under her supervision. And this wasn’t Potions, after all. What could the CMC possibly do in her class that would cause a commotion? He stopped a moment and looked at Scootaloo’s concentrated stare at her needle. Sweetie Belle seemed to be staring out the window, until Harry noticed the faint flashes of reflected light. On closer examination he thought he could see the stitched outline of a carousel forming up on the curtains. Apple Bloom was staring at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought. Then he noticed that she had acquired a box of matches from somewhere and was launching the finished needles at a wooden beam overhead. When he looked closer, he could see she was building a tiny wall of needles that formed her initials.

He sighed. Who was he kidding? They were the CMC. They could turn anything into a disaster if given only a few minutes’ inattention by the adults. He looked around the room carefully, checking for any hidden jars of sap or other things that could draw the attention of his herd-mates and become a lesson in how to turn harmless objects into chain-disasters.

Professor McGonagall looked even more nervous when she noticed him scrutinizing the room so meticulously. She began looking around the room nervously.

In D.A.D.A. Professor Quirrell was intensely interested in the ritual they had used to restore Myrtle. His stutter was nearly unnoticeable. At least, until he discovered that the ritual required a unicorn to freely donate blood during the ritual. Then his stutter returned with such viciousness that it was almost impossible to understand what he was trying to say.

After class, Hermione declared, “He is one of the worst teachers I’ve ever seen! I can barely understand him, and his explanations don’t make sense.” The other Gryffindors, at least those who had had primary schooling, all nodded in agreement. “If we want to pass this class we’re going to have to do the work ourselves!” she had concluded.

As a result, the Gryffindors’ late afternoon was dedicated to learning what their Defence professor was clearly incapable of teaching them. They took turns book-walking and quizzing each other.

Being out on the front lawn in the warm sun was a terrible distraction, though. What should have taken them only an hour or so took almost the entire rest of the afternoon. Sweetie and Harry, who had the most experience with spell casting from living in Equestria, spent their time explaining and coaching the others. That and the animagi wasted an inordinate amount of time chasing each other around as ponies trying to hex each other with their wands held in their mouths.

Which was giving them an enviable familiarity with silent casting as holding a wand in your mouth tends to make you mumble a bit. Such things didn’t matter when you were carrying a bag or bucket. Not a good thing to do, however, when casting a spell! It only took one painful bang from the wand in their mouths to disabuse them of the notion of trying to speak the spell and chance muffing a word.

Harry noticed Professor Quirrell watching them from a castle window for part of their animagus play. This time, he seemed especially enamoured of the two pegasi playing at aerial combat-hexing.

Still, they managed to cover the lesson that they were supposed to have learned in class today. They even managed to work ahead several chapters. And completed the class assignments from Tranfigurations.

At dinner, Harry was surprised to see that the Headmaster looked just as tired this evening as he had yesterday. He didn’t look tired as in physically worn out, but there were lines on his face and he seemed more subdued than his normal exuberant self. He had had a tiring day, it appeared. Harry wondered what he could have been doing to wear him out so much. Professors Snape and Quirrell both seemed amused at the older wizard while Professor McGonagall didn’t glare at him nearly as severely as she had been for the last few dinners.

But Harry did see the Headmaster give a startled jump when Professor McGonagall appeared to be talking with Professor Sprout. She was holding her cup in her left hand at that moment.

Although, every time Professor McGonagall looked at Harry’s end of the Gryffindor table she appeared relieved for no reason Harry could discern.

Except, perhaps, that her Firsties hadn’t blown up anything today, hadn’t broken any of the laws of magic, nor performed previously unknown rituals that should have been beyond their capabilities and understanding. Hmm, yeah, maybe she did have a reason to be relieved. On the other hand, there was still this evening.

Professor Snape just scowled at everything while conversing with Professor Quirrell. Harry was relieved to see the back of Quirrell’s head for most of dinner instead of him staring towards the Gryffindor Firsties as he usually did. Although, Harry did wonder at the wizard’s apparent fascination with them. Why them and not the Ravenclaws or Slytherins?

Dinner was almost complete when there was a flash of light overhead, and an irritated voice said, loudly, “Philomena! You brat!” A voice Harry instantly recognized.

Harry, and everyone else in the Great Hall looked up to see a purple pegasus wheeling around in the rafters. A red and gold phoenix flew in front of her and trilled a short song that sounded a lot like laughter. It then disappeared in another flash of light.

“Twilight,” Harry cried out, standing and waving his arms. “Clear the table,” he ordered the fillies, looking down briefly. They started grabbing platters and plates and shoving them aside.

The twins had decided to attend lunch and dinner today, causing many people around them to worriedly recast their poison detection charms at periodic intervals as they ate.

The twins whipped their wands up and quickly levitated the silverware, goblets, and plates down the table. And dumped most of their contents into their fellow Gryffindors’ laps. Completely by accident, of course, as they quickly assured their dorm-mates. Their grins while doing so did not convince anyone that it was as accidental as they claimed.

Twilight had spotted Harry and glided towards their table, daintily slamming into the table top and sending cracks across its surface. She sighed and looked down at the table, “Cheeseburgers!” she mumbled, embarrassed. She gave Harry and the fillies a rueful smile and rubbed the back of her neck with her right-front hoof. “Still haven’t quite got the hang of these wings,” she said.

The students stared at her in disbelief. It took a lot of power to crack a solid wood table that was thicker than their fists. She should, at least, have had sore hooves. Instead, she barely noticed.

And they had never seen a unicorn with wings.

She straightened, folded her wings, and cleared her throat, “Well, anyway, what’s this about you materializing a ghost?” she said sternly as she fixed Harry with a penetrating glare. Standing on the table, as she was, put her slightly above him. At his hesitant nod, she smiled broadly and started walking in place excitedly, her tail whipping back and forth.

“Was it hard? Did it work the first time or did you have to change the spell matrix? Was it exhausting? How much of your magical reserves did it use? Did you do it yourself or did Sweetie Belle and Hermione Granger help? Did you use your wands? Were you ponies? Did you do it outside or inside? Did that help? Was she a recent ghost? How did she die? Were there any side-effects? Have you tried it again? What did she think about it? Did she ask you to do it? Is she still here? Can I meet her and ask a few questions? I made a short checklist . . . .” A scroll popped out of one of her saddlebags and she held one end up to him. The other end of the scroll unrolled down to the table and then to the edge. Hermione jumped back. It fell to the bench seat, then fell to the floor, and continued to unroll across the floor until it hit the wall.

Harry thought it must be at least ten feet long.

The crowd of students now around him were staring with bugged-out eyes at the alicorn.

“Well? Why aren’t you saying anything?” she demanded, stopping her trot to stamp a hoof, and spread the cracks in the table-top.

“Uh . . . where’s Spike?” was the only thing Harry could think to say. If he had been here, the little dragon would have been trying to slow her down. He was about the only one not an Element of Harmony who could.

Twilight rolled her eyes, and snorted. “That brat, Philomena, didn’t give me time! I had no sooner grabbed my saddlebags, and, poof, here I was!” She lifted a hoof to stamp again, but Harry grabbed her leg.

“Ah,” came the soft tone of the Headmaster as the students parted to let him through. “Princess Sparkle, I presume?” The other Head of House professors followed him.

The alicorn spun in place to face him. “Oh, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore!” Harry could see her blushing. “I’m sorry,” she said, genuine remorse and embarrassment coming out in her tone. “I wanted to send you a message that I was going to be coming tomorrow but that brat, Philomena,” Twilight rolled her eyes, “surprised me and just brought me here, instead of taking the message.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at where the phoenix had disappeared as she brandished her rerolled questionnaire-scroll in her magic. A trill of laughter seemed to hang in the air for a moment. The scroll flew into her saddlebags.

By now, the entire Hall was watching and listening to them. The students were somewhat familiar with the ponies, by now, but this one had arrived via phoenix, whom she had loudly proclaimed a “brat.” She also had both wings and a horn. And the latest gossip spreading across the hall said she was an honest-to-Merlin princess! Most of the Ravenclaws were standing on their benches and the Slytherins had climbed atop their table.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard lightly. “I dare say she surprised us all,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I applaud your rapid transformation into your animagus form so you could fly instead of fall. Excellent reflexes! It was so fast, I didn’t even see you do it.”

Twilight blinked. “Oh, I didn’t . . . .” Harry grabbed her nearest leg and squeezed. She glanced down at him. “. . . ah, yes,” she said continued, “that’s what I did.” Harry was trying valiantly not to face-palm himself with his other hand.

“Well, then,” the Headmaster continued, “perhaps you’d like to return to your normal form and we can discuss whatever brings you here.”

“My normal form?” she said uncertainly, then continued, “. . . Oh, yes, of course. How silly of me. I was so intent on talking with Harry that I forgot to do that.”

Harry’s eyes went wide with horror. From what she had said, she had clearly been in Equestria when Philomena had snatched her. He urgently grabbed for her leg, again, saying, “Wait!”

It was already too late. He was holding her ankle.

۸- ̫ -۸

74 — Terror in the Corridors

Breakfast Saturday morning had been quiet — it was going to be their normal Friday classes. Even the parliament of owls had been a bit low. On the other hand, the huge flocks that had descended into the breakfast hall every day since school had started had probably spoiled the First Years, as the other students seemed to think today’s traffic still was heavier than normal.

The best part of breakfast, for Harry at least, had been the three Aurors coming into the hall in the middle of it. They had marched straight to the Head Table and had asked Deputy Headmistress McGonagall to fetch a “Draco Malfoy” for them. Harry had stared at them, then at Ron and Neville, both of whom shook their heads in stunned silence. It was Ginny’s smirk as the Aurors left for the Malfoy residence that clued the boys into who had snitched on Draco’s bragging.

Scootaloo had rewarded the witch with an extra-large helping from the bacon platter she had claimed for Harry and the fillies.

The twins had watched with incredulous expressions that segued into looks of pride at their sister.

“They grow up so fast,” had said George, wiping a non-existent tear from his face.

“Truly wondrous,” had added Fred, “She hasn’t been here a month and she’s already topped our biggest prank . . . .”

They had both sighed, grinned, and said, “A new goal has been set!”

The Ravenclaws seated nearest them had all shuddered.

Breakfast had passed all too quickly, and soon they had filed into the Potions’ classroom and had handed in their finished potions.

Because they merely had been closely supervised, but had done the work themselves, both Sweetie Belle and Neville had been able to honestly say that they had prepared the potions themselves, to their Professor’s disbelieving raised eyebrow.

Professor Snape had not been happy to collect fourteen small bottles of Boil Cure from the Gryffindors. Especially as all fourteen had to be rated acceptable. Except for Hermione’s, of course. It was rated average. Harry thought it was exactly the right colour, but he wasn’t the Potions Master.

Today’s assignment had been Burn-healing Paste.

Professor Snape clearly thought last week was a freak accident, as he had once again assigned Neville and Sweetie Belle to the same table.

Harry had heard an “AAHHhhhh,” coming from his right. He had turned just in time to see Sweetie Belle finish with “CHOOOooo!”

Fortunately, she had been crouched down low, her head below her table, one hand braced against the table-base, the other against the floor, for support.

He had slowly let out the breath he had been holding, and looked around the room to see the rest of the class had done the same thing.

He had looked back at Sweetie Belle as she stood back up and grinned at him. She had looked at the instructions in her book. Then she had lifted her stirring rod and promptly dropped it — straight to the floor between their desks. She had sighed and stepped over to pick it up. She couldn’t use it — it had dirt on it — but she couldn’t just leave it on the floor.

Harry had sighed and reached into his Potions’ Kit. He had just pulled out his spare rod to offer to her when she had smirked and snatched his stirring rod from beside his cauldron. He had rolled his eyes, but hadn’t said anything. He had thought that maybe his correctly brewed potion which still dripped from the rod — at least he hoped it was correctly brewed — might help her.

She had started to stir the liquid in her cauldron — vigorously in the wrong way. He had been about to correct her when she yelped, dropped the stirring rod in her potion, and shook her hand violently.

Harry had seen a small spider fall from her sleeve into the cauldron. It must have fallen or climbed onto her sleeve from the bottom of her table when she had leaned against it.

“Uh . . . ,” he had started to say when there was a distinct POP from her cauldron, A brilliant pink smoke had exploded from the cauldron, and had instantly filled the dungeon classroom.

Everyone had made a frantic run for door, which had immediately become a choke point, and trapped most of them in the room for a vital few seconds. The Slytherins, with their penchant for coming first and taking the tables furthest from the door, discovered the flaw in that approach as they had been kept in the room the longest.

Harry and the fillies, being in the middle of the room, had been too late to make it to the door before it became clogged. Harry had tried to hold his breath, but the pink smoke had made his nose itch and he had sneezed. Then he had had to take a breath. He heard the same reaction taking place all around him.

“Idiot girl!” snarled Professor Snape, and he cleared the smoke with a wave of his wand. “What did you do?” He had a bubble of clear air around his head.

The knot that clogged the door finally broke through and the entire class spilled into the corridor. “There was a spider!” Sweetie Belle wailed.

The coughing slowly subsided. Harry suddenly realized that there were an awful lot of witches — and wizards — staring at him with lowered eyes and really creepy smiles. Scootaloo, on his left, and Apple Bloom, on his right, both said, almost in stereo, “Harry!” in rather sultry tones. They pressed against his sides in a way that was decidedly not just a friendly pony-bump as he was used to getting at home.

He didn’t move for a moment, unsure of what was happening. However, when he felt two hands caress his bum — and they didn’t belong to the fillies, they were running their hands on his arms — he decided that retreat was the better part of valour. That, and seeing almost the entire class was giving him a look that he only ever had seen between two ponies who were very much interested in each other. Looks he had seen most often during Hearts and Hooves Day.

He transformed into a pony. His smaller height made it much easier to slip around the legs of the crowd and avoid the grabbing hands. He noticed, as he had spun around before running, that it had been Hermione and Ginny petting his bum.

He had barely broken free of the crowd when he heard the stampede start behind him. Spurring him to greater speed were the words he heard hurled after him: “Harry, love, come back! I love you!” came from a half a dozen throats, not all of them female. The cries of “Leave him alone, he’s mine!” faded behind him as scuffles broke out, reducing the number of pursuers behind him.

Scootaloo was not slow, either mentally or physically, as he heard her take to the air seconds behind him. She gleefully declared, “Wait, my love, we’ll keep you safe!” from a yard behind and above him.

Apple Bloom was only a moment behind her. And Apple Bloom’s earth-pony strength could easily catch him. All she had to do was pace him until he was too exhausted to run anymore — an easy exercise when the earth-ponies were pitted against the less athletic unicorns.

He increased his speed. Classroom doors flew by as he rocketed down the corridor. The pounding hooves behind him told him Apple Bloom was gaining ground.

Scootaloo was getting closer, too. He quickly discovered that if he ran up the side of the walls on the corners he could take side corridors faster than she could bank. She always over-flew the turn and had to tightly circle back around, gaining him precious yards.

The portraits did not appreciate his hooves dancing around their frames.

That had not hindered Apple Bloom, unfortunately. Following him, she always had warning and could take the corners faster than he had. “Harry! Slow down!” he heard her yell.

He shot up the stairs, and barely touched them once or twice on the way. The doors to the Great Hall were open. He ducked in there. He ran under the tables to prevent Scootaloo from tackling him from above.

The students studying inside the Great Hall looked up at his frantic entry, with Apple Bloom almost right on his tail. They were more than a little startled to see Scootaloo zoom into the Hall over their heads, followed a moment later by Ginny.

He had silenced his hooves so they couldn’t track him by sound — thank god Hermione had forced them to read the Second Year Spells book!

That hadn’t been an issue for Apple Bloom, she had him in her sight the entire time as she was barely a pony length behind him. Hearing her teeth snap closed as she tried to catch his tail gave him a tiny boost of speed — and he tucked his tail tight to his rump.

The Professors’ door behind the Head Table on the left side of the Great Hall was closed, but Harry used his magic to creak it open just far enough for a pony to fit through. He suddenly jinked to his left, then jinked back, then used the Head Table’s modesty panel as a rebounding board for his hard right turn. He jumped further to his right and slammed on his brakes. Apple Bloom, and then Ginny, shot by in a blur, frantically back-winging. He saw Apple Bloom slide by as she tried to catch him, her teeth barely missing his mane.

He reversed direction and darted underneath the Head Table, again, just as Scootaloo slammed down where he had been. Ginny tried to head him off, but over-shot his position and back-winged wildly to avoid crashing into a startled student at the Gryffindor table.

The room was in bedlam as the four of them raced through it.

Harry made a mad dash to the Professors’ door and slipped past it. He closed the door and ran across the small anteroom to the other door. He heard both Apple Bloom and Scootaloo swearing on the other side of the door, and then ominously, he heard Apple Bloom order, “You two go that way, I’ll follow through here!”

He yanked open the door and took off at a dead run, again. The wrong way, he discovered. He surprised himself and the two pegasi by running under them as they cornered into the corridor from the Entry Hall.

By now, the commotion had attracted attention and both students and professors were looking into the corridor as he blew by their open doors with the other three ponies in close pursuit. Their yelling, “Harry! Cut it out, you know you love us as much as we love you!” merely spurred him into running faster than he had thought he could run. He arrived at the Central Stairs just in time to meet the students, those who had escaped Professor Snape, coming up the stairs from the Dungeons.

Their cries of joy at seeing their beloved filled the stairwell.

He made a frantic jump from the floor to a handrail and thence to the one stair that had just left the ground floor, leaving his ground-bound pursuers behind. That did not stop the pegasi, though, and he powered to the fifth floor. As he was charging down the left corridor he saw one of the many “secret” passages that led to the seventh floor.

He darted in. Behind him he heard Scootaloo, “You follow him here, I’ll head for the exit upstairs and we’ll have our love, safe from the others.”

He heard Ginny’s hooves hit the floor behind him. He had made a strategic error. He was trapped.

Harry slowed to a stop, gasping. Then he tried the only thing that could get him out of being trapped in the secret passage. He screwed his eyes shut, concentrated, and teleported. He hadn’t really thought of exactly where he wanted to go, just somewhere nearby where it was unlikely he would be spotted.

Slamming into something that wouldn’t let him through to wherever his subconscious had selected to teleport made him feel extremely nauseous as he staggered in the corridor. Next time he wouldn’t ignore that particular safety in the spell. Recognizing the door to Fluffy’s room — it was very unlikely he would ever forget that — barely two yards away when he opened his eyes scared at least a year’s life out of him. At first he was relieved that whatever barrier it was that had stopped him, had stopped him. But then he wondered why his subconscious thought a three-headed and angry Fluffy was safer than letting the girls catch him? It left him more than a little bewildered.

He quietly backed away and looked around carefully. No one was in sight. Seeing the broom-closet door just a few yards further away from Fluffy’s door was a god-send. He quickly darted into the small space and then started praying that nobody would think to start looking in broom-closets. Or notice this one.

It took him several minutes to get his breathing back under control. Then his muscles started quivering from his frantic abuse of them, and his adrenaline rush began to fade. He had finally started to relax when he heard footsteps. His eyes went wide and he froze, afraid to move a muscle or make a noise.

“Where can you be, my love,” he heard Goyle say. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from those lying fakes saying they love you. Ha! They can’t hold a candle to my love for you, which blazes like a desert sun and is deeper than the deepest ocean!” Goyle had sighed heavily.

The footsteps continued onward, after a brief hesitation not far from where Harry sat, shaking.

Oh. Yes. Definitely. Harry did not want to be that popular.

۸-ꞈ-۸

Harry woke with a start as he heard a knock on the broom-closet door. He held silent, barely daring to breathe.

“Harry?” came one of the twin’s voices. “It’s safe to come out now.”

“We started a rumour that you were hiding in the hospital wing.”

“Worked like a charm.”

“Yeah, Snape and McGonagall captured all the Slytherin and Gryffindor Firsties.”

“Madam Pomfrey has a potion to cancel the effects of Love Potions.”

“Honest, we wouldn’t prank you on this.”

“It’s already too good of a prank.”

“The whole school is in an uproar.”

“They’ll be talking about this for weeks!”

“And we got tons of blackmail material, too.”

“Wish we had thought of it.”

Harry knew the two of them were outside the broom-closet because the location of their voices kept switching back and forth from one side of the door to the other. He crept closer to the door, and slowly pushed it just far enough open to see outside.

The twins moved so he could see them.

“Honestly?” he whispered.

They both nodded their heads.

He would have been the only First Year at Gryffindor table at dinner that evening, he later learned. The rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin Firsties were confined to the hospital until curfew as Madam Pomfrey wanted to make sure her antidote had flushed Sweetie Belle’s inadvertent Love Potion from the victims. The students were not thrilled. Especially as the Hospital only had two toilets, one for the witches and one for the wizards.

The twins, instead, conducted him down into the dungeons under the Great Hall, and introduced him to the kitchen and the house-elves. It was a wonderful dinner as the twins entertained him with stories of their adventures in the castle. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he asked, they refused to tell him how they had found him. Although, if either of the twins had made a crack about the three of them being at a romantic candle-lit dinner, he would have been out of the kitchen before the other two could move.

They also grilled him thoroughly on what Sweetie Bell had done.

“It must have been the stirring rod,” George said, after thinking for a few moments.

“Yes, it probably had some of your skin-oil on it, as well as skin cells.”

“More than enough material for a love potion.”

“We will need to consult with Sweetie Belle.”

“Yes, it sounds as if the alterations to the Burn-healing Paste make it . . . ,”

“. . . much cheaper and easier to mix than the other love potions.”

They bid him goodbye and left him to watch the house-elves at work.

When he finally dared to venture back to the Gryffindor dorms, shortly before curfew, he noticed additions to the ‘ATTENTION ALL GRYFFINDORS!’ list:

5) . . .
a) . . .
b) Pegasi are not allowed to fly in school corridors.
c) Pegasi are not allowed to fly in the Great Hall.
d) Pegasi are not allowed to fly up or down the staircases.
e) Pegasi are allowed to fly in classrooms — with the Professor’s permission and for demonstration purposes, only.

۸- ̰ -۸

“Well,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he looked at the assembled professors seated at the conference table. “We conclude another boring week at Hogwarts.”

Minerva gave a very unladylike snort as the others grumbled a bit.

He sighed. It seemed everyone had lost their sense of humour this week. “I will just confirm, again,” he continued, “that the accounts in the Daily Prophet published yesterday of what happened Tuesday are, indeed, quite accurate.” He smiled. “For once, Miss Skeeter, managed to stick to the facts. For the most part.” He gave a small smile at that statement.

“The Chamber is well-protected, at the moment, although it is unlikely anyone would stumble upon any of its entrances. Filius, Minerva, and I shall be exploring the Chamber in search of any hidden rooms it might have or items Salazar might have left down there. As soon as we finish, we shall open it up to the students, and then the public.”

He noticed that Quirinus was rather disgruntled — most likely at missing out on all the action. “Yes, I know you would like to be a part of that, Quirinus, but I doubt that there will be any traps or other problems. I’m sure that Salazar deemed his basilisk to be more than capable of protecting his secrets. And any dark creatures that might have tried to nest down there would have made for a quick snack for the snake.”

The professor nodded reluctantly and settled back in his chair, arms crossed on his chest and still scowling. Amusingly enough, he was competing with Severus as to who could scowl more.

“I am pleased to note that everything went well in Hogsmeade. I have received several owls from the villagers complimenting us on how well-behaved the students were and expressing gratitude for the Hogwarts’ elves’ assistance. Thank you all for your hard work at keeping the unexpected outing tranquil.”

He smiled at them and stroked his beard a time or two.

“Severus, have you or Poppy made any headway on Sweetie Belle’s discovery?”

The lanky wizard scowled, “Accident, not discovery.” He visibly collected himself. “It shouldn’t be possible to make a Love Potion out of Burn-healing Paste, but with the addition of a live, immature steatoda grossa spider,” he stopped and looked around the room, sneering slightly, “also called a Cupboard Spider, and a targeting agent — skin oil or a few skin-cells are sufficient — you can create one.” He glared at the far wall. “The potion is extremely fast acting, almost instantaneous. The smoke can be pressed into the liquid. When cooled, it forms a thin paste, which liquefies at body temperature.” He paused and his voice took on a more lectural tone. “The paste isn’t as strong a love potion as the others, and induces what might be better called an infatuation. It is also short-lived and dosages can be as small as to last only a quarter-of-an-hour.”

He stopped and the edges of his mouth barely curved up —which for him was a grin. “Having a large sample of subjects makes such determinations simpler. Several students were already coming out of it as we reached the hospital wing. Knowing where they were sitting in the room made the calculations simpler. It is also easily remedied with the standard love-potion antidote.” He paused a long time, thinking. “I believe it would be proper to name it ‘Sweetie Belle’s Love Potion Number Nine’ because it is the ninth love potion to be documented.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Not Professor Snape’s Love Potion?”

Severus’ scowl was deep and dark as most of the other professors ginned or chuckled. “I did not discover it, I merely refined its properties and production. And I do not want my name attached to a love potion, for obvious reasons.” He glared at everyone in the room. “Poppy is currently monitoring the students still under its influence, and will administer a final dose of the antidote to every student before releasing them, just to be sure.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely. “Yes. If the twins succeed in their efforts with the gender-changing potion, this will make the second potion Miss Belle has discovered in as many weeks. I cannot imagine how many she will have . . . created by the time she reaches her OWLS.”

The entire room shuddered as Severus stared at Dumbledore in horror. But then he frowned and a thoughtful look came across his face. The potions professor shifted to cradle his right elbow in his left hand as his right fist held his chin, his forefinger lightly tapping his lip. A distant look entered his eyes.

“Moving on,” Dumbledore said, “Minerva tells me that the Gryffindor quidditch team try-outs held by Mr Wood failed to find anyone interested in — much less qualified for — the Seeker position. As a result, try-outs for First Years will be held tomorrow, Sunday, seeing as today, Saturday, is the day normally scheduled for the team try-outs and the students were in class, instead.”

That got snickers from both Filius and Pomona and a glare from Severus. He couldn’t object, however, as all the Slytherin Quidditch players from last year were still on the team. That Marcus Flint was happy with his current line-up and had already declined reserving time on the pitch for try-outs was well-known.

Dumbledore smiled genially. “I also have located a new professor for History of Magic. He will be arriving tomorrow. He scored high in his OWLS, and nearly as well in his NEWTS. And I believe most of you knew him when he was here in the late seventies. I will formally introduce him at dinner tomorrow evening.”

That got a few thoughtful looks from those who were here, then.

“And, after the clear failure of the Hogwarts’ charms to detect the presence of the entrance to Slytherin’s Chamber in the second floor Witches’ Toilets, as well as their inability to detect the serpent forty-eight years ago, Princess Sparkle has offered the expertise of some of her people at examining and improving the Castle’s charms.”

Everyone straightened in their chairs.

“You trust them?”

“We don’t need their help!”

“What can they do that our Aurors and Unspeakables can’t?”

He waited patiently for the objections to die down. “We can’t involve the Ministry,” he stated. “I know that there are Dark Lord sympathizers who would attempt to build holes into the protective charms here at Hogwarts. They also would have no compunctions about sabotaging the efforts of the wizards and witches trying to do a good job.” He sighed. “Plus, the Ministry would see this as an opportunity to subvert control of Hogwarts away from the Board of Govenors.

“After considering all the facts, I have accepted her offer and the first consultants should be arriving any day now. Please help them acclimate to the castle and answer any questions they might have. The Princess has promised that they will try to remain out of sight most of the time and will not disrupt any classes.”

He looked up at the Heads of Houses. “Filius, Pomona, Severus, Minerva, tell your students that any Dark artefacts — as defined by the Ministry — found in their possession will be confiscated. Students with these items will be given long detentions, with the exact length determined by the danger of the artefact. The artefacts, themselves, will be turned over to the Ministry to decide if they will be returned to the parents or destroyed and the family fined.” He looked over at Severus as he said, “Hiding the objects somewhere in the castle will not save them. The items will be found, confiscated, and destroyed.

“They may hand-in any artefacts before Monday evening without penalty.”

He turned his attention to the DADA professor, “Quirinus, make sure that any dark artefacts you have are thoroughly secured at all times, and stored in your quarters, office, or the DADA classroom. Any artefacts discovered outside of those three locations will be considered as items that were ‘hidden’ by students and confiscated.”

He swept a look across the gathered professors. “There will be no exceptions. If you, or a student, have an artefact that is classified as dark, you must tell me tomorrow, or remove the item from Hogwarts and its grounds.” They all appeared to understand the gravity of what he was saying.

He turned to the Hogwarts’ librarian. “Irma? I will need you to survey the collection to ensure that all cursed books, or books that belong in the restricted section are, indeed, in the restricted section. The house-elves will be building a glass wall separating the restricted section from the rest of the library. The door will be behind your desk, with a rune-lock on it. You will keep the key on your person at all times when you are here at Hogwarts, and you will leave the key with me or Minerva should you leave for any reason.”

He gave them a stern look. “I will not allow the students’ lives to be unduly jeopardized.”

The meeting ran on for another two hours, with Madam Pomfrey making an appearance near the end.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

Thanks to both Firestorm & Senko for Rule 5.

86 — I Meant to do That

It seemed fitting that the day after Halloween was Friday, and they had Potions’ class to suffer through. As if the troll the day before hadn’t been scary and exciting enough.

No matter how fast Harry moved, he couldn’t cast the bubble-head charm fast enough to escape an explosion from his two friends’ table. And all a shield spell did was stop solid matter, such as flying bits of metal and dirt, not gases. And he definitely wasn’t fast enough to do both, one after the other. As a result, he had taken to casting the bubble-head charm starting near the end of the brewing period. He figured, incorrectly, that he would be safe until then. Others in the class, even among the Slytherins, had come to the same erroneous conclusion.

The only flaw that they saw was in the timing.

Unlike Professor Snape, none of them were magically strong enough for the bubble-head spell to last the entire class. In fact, most of them could barely get it to last three to five minutes, depending on their magical fortitude. So they had to cast it multiple times to make it through to the end of class. And it was exhausting doing that.

As a result, they waited until they thought it was prudent to start casting the spell. That still left them magically and physically tired by the time class ended, but at least they were safe from Sweetie Belle’s catastrophes. And they had the rest of the day to recover.

They just hoped a Sweetie Belle catastrophe didn’t happen in the short periods of time between when the spell expired and they cast a new one. They were confident the odds were low enough that they would be safe. Another erroneous conclusion.

Neville managed to melt his cauldron before the class was a quarter-over, proving a calamity could happen at almost any time. This convinced most of the class that that was the expected Friday disaster. So, they relaxed their guard. Another miscalculation. Naturally, Neville lost his potion in the cauldron accident, received a zero credit. He had to sit quietly at his table for the rest of the class after packing up the remainder of his equipment.

After an appropriate brow-beating by their professor which further tore down his self-confidence.

Sweetie Belle’s kind of chaos — Harry suspected that Discord was involved, somehow — was not predictable. And not dependent upon other events. Halfway through the class, Sweetie’s cauldron started bubbling. It was supposed to do that.

It was only by chance that Harry glanced at her while she was stirring — and saw it was in the wrong direction. The green mist just beginning to shoot sideways from her cauldron was a dead giveaway something was about to go seriously pear-shaped.

Harry’s gasp alerted the others that something they would regret was about to happen.

Almost everyone, at that point in time, had started to stir, was stirring, or had almost finished stirring their potion. That made for a slight delay as they dropped everything and grabbed for their wands. Frantic spell-shouting began and bubbles began to appear around students’ heads.

Professor Snape had had one all class. He was mean-spirited and evil, but he wasn’t stupid. Although why he continued to pair Neville and Sweetie was a mystery. Was he hoping they would vanish or blow themselves up?

The ones with wand holsters — Harry, the fillies, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione — had an advantage in that respect. Their wands appeared in their hands almost immediately. They were also much closer to source of the disaster, which negated that benefit.

But the damage had already spread to the Gryffindors by then. The gas was insidious in its action. It was silent, odourless, and quick, spreading around the room at an alarming rate. Fortunately for the Slytherins, they were far enough from Sweetie Belle that they all successfully escaped the incident, although none of them had moved from their stations. The two previous incidents had taught them that heading for the door was a useless exercise. And just as likely to put them in harm’s way as to save them. It was better to wait and see. After casting the bubble-head charm, of course. And a shield charm, if they could manage it.

Unfortunately, for the Gryffindors, they were not able to get the bubble-head charm up in time. If they had been a table farther away, then maybe. But, as it was, they were too late.

The thing was, nobody noticed, at first, that the potion had already done the damage. They all thought, incorrectly as it turned out, that they had reacted in time and were unaffected.

It was only when the Gryffindors and Slytherins began to relax, thinking they were safe, or that it had been a false alarm, that they began to notice the effects of the potion.

“What?” Sweetie Belle said in the middle of their reactions, still stirring the wrong way.

Harry, thinking he had managed to escape the mysterious potion’s effects, said, “You’re stirring the wrong way and that green smoke isn’t supposed to be there.” He frowned, it had been blue when he first looked, he was sure.

She stopped and watched as Professor Snape slowly sauntered to her table with a massive sneer, drawling so slow and low as to almost be a parody of his normal speech, “What did you do this time, you incompetent nincompoop?” His robes slowly swirled around him in slow motion.

That was a new and strange effect. Harry frowned as he watched.

The Potions’ Master stared into Sweetie’s cauldron for a very long time before he leisurely cast a stasis spell.

Harry was beginning to think something was very wrong. Professor Snape had always hurried to Sweetie Belle’s and Neville’s table when something went wrong, robes billowing menacingly. He had never sauntered. His wand spells were always quick and precise, never slow and drawn out. Even his normal rounds through the classroom were quick, though they appeared unhurried if you watched him. Right now they seemed to be positively glacial in action.

And he had never drawled anything in class as slowly, or in as low a tone, as he did right now. Not even when he was being cruel and sarcastic.

Harry looked around frowning. The other Gryffindors had their eyes on their potions, stirring the carefully, lest they attract the dungeon bat’s attention to themselves. Many of them were frowning. The Slytherins, however, seemed to be watching carefully, barely moving. Several of them had gone back to stirring in the hope the brief pause hadn’t ruined their attempt at today’s potion. They were moving slowly, unsure of what to expect. Harry expected their potions to be failures, based on how slow they were now stirring.

Harry looked back into his cauldron. He immediately noticed that while he was stirring with his left hand, the right occupied by his wand, the liquid in the cauldron was in danger of slopping out. He immediately stopped stirring.

And watched the swirl of the liquid slowly, thickly, start dropping. Instead of being a nice red, as it had been a moment ago, it was now turning pink.

“Oh, pooh!” he heard from Hermione.

Looking, Harry saw her potion was also turning pink.

She put her hands on her hips, the stirring rod still in the potion. “I know I wasn’t stirring it too fast!” she exclaimed.

In only a moment, everyone was staring into their pink potions. At least the Gryffindors were.

Most of the Slytherins were still staring at the professor who was straightening from Sweetie Belle’s cauldron and berating her for her incompetence. Slowly.

And that was when they discovered that the strange green mist that had shot across the room had been an accelerant. As-in, it accelerated whoever had breathed it in. The Slytherins and the Professor weren’t moving slower, Harry and the others were moving faster.

After a few minutes confusion, and trying not to laugh at the professor’s comically slow movements, the Gryffindors were out the door and headed to the Hospital wing. The Slytherins were a slow second, and falling farther behind every moment.

Once they reached the hospital wing, Hermione realized it would take what seemed forever to explain what had happened. She pulled out a paper and quill and quickly wrote out what had happened. She met the Matron at the half-way point between the doors and her office, and handed her the paper. The little witch did not want to wait for the older witch to slowly walk over to them.

The Gryffindors grouped around the nurse as they waited for her to finish reading and tell them, slowly, what she wanted them to do next. Which she did as she chivvied them all to one side of the room.

Harry sat on the edge of a bed with the other Gryffindors beside or standing around him, and sighed dejectedly. Not only had they lost points, again, but Madam Pomfrey was taking forever to scan the Gryffindors. It wasn’t her fault, of course. It was their accelerated sense of time. The normally quick and efficient nurse was moving at a snail’s pace, as far as the Gryffindor’s were concerned.

And the Slytherins finally began to arrive.

Hermione, who had already half-memorized the diagnostic charms from their previous visits, watched Madam Pomfrey cast them five times in slow motion.

“Fascinating,” Harry said, watching the magic move in slow motion.

“Can I see?” Hermione said.

He shared his glasses with her.

“Oh! Wow!” she said, and looked at Harry speculatively. She turned back to watch the nurse’s movements. “Let’s see,” she said smiling, lifting up her wand and imitating the Matron’s movements and incantation.

In the time it took Madam Pomfrey to do one student, Hermione managed three.

Madam Pomfrey stopped, surprised, at the next student when he handed her the completed diagnostic papers. After doing the spell one more time and assuring herself the information was accurate, she followed along behind the little witch genius. “Five points to Gryffindor,” the nurse said, slowly, as she gathered up the papers.

After waiting another half-hour for her to flip through the papers quickly, she said, “You’re dismissed. You’re all in fine health, just running a bit faster. Mickle! If these students complain of being hungry in two hours, and the potion hasn’t worn off, give them food and pumpkin juice.”

Watching the house-elf nod eagerly as his big ears flapped in slow motion was hilarious, in Harry’s opinion. What wasn’t funny was arriving in the Great Hall for lunch and finding the tables empty. Normally, it would only have been a short wait, five or ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before other students appeared and the tables began to fill up. This time they had to wait nearly an excruciating twenty minutes that took what felt like an hour.

This was one of those cases where the second hand on his watch seemed to crawl around the dial — literally. He could count almost three one-thousands for every second!

Fortunately, they spent it discussing what they were going to do that afternoon. The potion should last more than an hour, easily — and so far Sweetie Belles potion accidents always lasted at least until dinner, five hours away. They should have almost a full day, maybe more. And there would be plenty of time to complete their assignments.

Scootaloo said, “Time to bring out the list for Crusadin’, Sweetie Belle!” And gave the four of them a big grin. After reminding the others what they were crusading for, the Gryffindors split into two groups, those who were really not interested in being Spider Wranglers — Ron and several girls — and those who wanted to see what mayhem might result from this.

The resulting fires in the forest, alone, would have garnered them a long harangue by Professor McGonagall — which she did. That the fires were accompanied by a trail of devastation through the forest, the partial destruction of a storage room in the castle, and a “small” yard-tall acromantula frantically trying to burrow down through a dungeon floor — and acromantulas were not a burrowing species — and a second just-as-small acromantula trying to hide in the greenhouse — behind Professor Sprout — had involved Hagrid, and all four Heads of House. Each had lectured them at different times — for different reasons.

The “Spider Wrangler Crusade” resulted in the Gryffindor cohort being confined to their dorm for the entire weekend, with a week of detentions, as well. Their meals were to be brought in by house-elves. Which, considering some of their punishments at home and the damage done this time, the fillies assured everyone that they had gotten off lightly. There was only one weekend of confinement, and detentions with Mr. Filch. And while Mr. Filch was unpleasant, the jobs he assigned were all typical clean-the-house type of chores that Harry and the Equestrians considered normal. They taught the others the tricks they used in making a game of the chores. The chores weren’t fun by any measure, but they did pass faster.

The biggest disappointment, according to the fillies, was that there were no cutie marks gained from that afternoon’s crusading.

On the other hand, the Headmaster had specifically allowed the Gryffindor Quidditch team members to practice with the rest of their team on Saturday. If the potion wore off by then.

The Acromantulas, meanwhile, had learned to run away, very fast, when they saw oddly-coloured and tiny horses accompanied by wizards and witches. Or even alone, they decided later, on reflection. That such small creatures could unintentionally cause so much devastation was beyond belief, even the wizards and witches were awed, the spiders saw.

The decision to move their nest a bit farther — several miles, really — into the forest to avoid any more incidents of that type was unanimous. And accomplished before nightfall. There was even some talk of disguising the nest with coloured silk instead of the normal white so it couldn’t be spotted from above — no one had every told them horses could fly! Or were so quick that even the spiders had problems tracking the little monsters. Yes, being farther away was a prudent move, they had decided.

The centaurs, drawn by the explosions, screams, and overall noise, had overheard the discussions and relayed what they had learned to the Headmaster. These new talking ponies were interesting, but the centaurs didn’t like the wizards and wanted to be left alone. They knew that if they didn’t inform the Headmaster of what was happening he would send wizards into the forest to determine what had changed. They were “proactively” acting to prevent that situation.

Much, much later, the muggle-born in the castle would remember this day and reflect that the ponies, despite being a prey species, were the dominant species on their home world for good reason.

The acceleration potion started to wear off in the middle of Professor McGonagall’s chastising lecture late that afternoon. It was shortly before dinner — their third meal for the day, and that included a nap in between — to the cohort’s immense relief. Getting chewed out in slow motion while you pretended to be sorry and listening was agonising. Especially because her expressions and gestures in slow motion were just so funny.

And they all knew it would only make things worse if they started laughing.

And the lecture had gone on and on and on. Harry imagined only the actual cruciatus curse could be more painful than maintaining, for what felt like hours, that look of sorrowful regret and apology. Stifling the urge to fidget was a major battle. Before the potion had worn off he had been worried his face might never recover. Once it did wear off, the lecture just flew by, to his immense relief. Which he hoped he managed to conceal.

Well, mostly wore off. The cohort still had people telling them not to hurry so much when they weren’t hurrying at all.

Mr. Filch was surprised at their industriousness after the first detention that night. He had certainly not expected them to make a competition in how clean their assignments were, nor in how many they could accomplish in a given amount of time. It gave him an uneasy feeling as it reminded him of a group of pranksters from just over a decade ago called the Marauders.

Which got Harry’s attention when Filch mumbled it aloud. Harry had heard the twins mention that name, too.

And yet another letter was sent to Twilight, and the other students’ parents, by Professor McGonagall.

Hermione was happy to use the time they were restricted to their dorm to “catch up” on her reading. Exploring and crusading had eaten into her reading time the last few weeks. Well, that is, her new schedule for reading time. Book-walking just made it so much faster . . . .

The others used the portraits to sneak around the castle. Several of the portraits were delighted to help conceal them, and even joined them.

It also resulted in three new rules posted in the Gryffindor Common Room that evening after dinner.

..c) Animagi student are not allowed to use that form’s cuteness to convince staff members to do things for them or excuse them from activities, assignments, or punishments.
.....i) Animagi are not allowed to enlist other animagi in this subversion of authority.

Students are not allowed to play with dangerous beasts inside the school corridors,
..a) Or on the staircases,
..b) Or in the classrooms, unless supervised by a qualified staff member.
.....i) For the purposes of this rule, Hagrid is NOT a qualified staff member.
..c) Or in the dorms,
..d) Or the broom-closets, even if they are expanded,
..e) Or student trunks, even if they are expanded,
..f) Or the Hogwarts’ front, side, or rear grounds,
..g) Or the lake (except Gerald, the Squid).

Students are not allowed to try to catch, or actually catch, the spiders in the Forbidden Forest in hopes of getting a Cutie Mark in Spider Wrangling. Or producing their own Acromantula silk. Or any other reason.

One unforeseen consequence of their extra-extra-long Friday was that all their required homework had been completed early. Thus, out of boredom during Friday evening, the cohort got together and started working ahead on all their classes.

۸-~-۸

Castor walked into his house and called, “I’m home!”

Silence greeted him, except for a thumping from the kitchen.

Puzzled he walked to the kitchen. He usually found his wife fixing dinner at this time of the day. She was there, he was relieved to see, just not saying anything. She looked up, glared at him, and returned her attention to the counter.

He sighed softly, walked up behind her, and put his arms around her waist.

“What’s the matter?”

Silence, again. The thumping became a bit more aggressive. The mashed potatoes were certainly getting mashed.

He kissed the back of her neck, and she stopped for a moment, but then resumed mashing the potatoes and scrapping them into a bowl.

He sighed and stepped back.

She continued to ignore him, except for occasional glares to tell him this was all his fault.

He looked around, searching for a possible explanation. It was when he glanced at the dinner table that he had a clue. The morning newspaper was on his placemat. He didn’t need any further information.

“Sorry, honey, but I did try to tell you I was dealing with aliens. It’s not my fault you didn’t believe me.”

The silence got deeper and more profound. Oops. That was the wrong thing to say.

He frowned, then smiled. A quick trip back to his coat and he returned with a set of gold embossed, pound-sized papers.

He walked up behind her and said, waving the papers beside her, “I have V.I.P. tickets to the ball next week . . . .”

She froze again, her attention entirely on the tickets that clearly stated they were for a ball at the new Equestrian Embassy. There were three of them.

She gasped as she stared at the tickets.

They occasionally went to department balls and dances, or even just a night out.

But this!

It would be the most important social event of the year. Something she had only dreamed about attending. And she would be there!

۸-~-۸

Castor, freshly showered, was almost late for the meeting that evening at Number Ten with Sir Walker and Sir McColl. He arrived barely before the Prime Minister, and the Home and Foreign Secretaries did, for their weekly summary of Equestrian activity and their responses.

Despite Twilight’s warning, there hadn’t been any sightings of the changeling, anywhere. Close checking of the surveillance videos on The Leaky Cauldron had not shown anything unusual. Unless the creature had mimicked one of the wizards or witches off camera.

In any case, the creature had gone to ground and all they could do was wait.

The princess had, as promised, followed through with the runes and gems. Number Ten and the most sensitive government locations were now secured from infiltration. The process was proceeding at a steady pace at the secondary locations, his boss had assured him. With any luck, before the month was out, all the important government locations would be covered.

They hoped. It had been decided that until the creature was spotted, they would stockpile the remainder of the small metal plates with the runes. That way they could target the plates to where they were needed the most at the first signs of trouble. It wouldn’t do to put them at all the armouries and then discover the creature at a naval yard and not have anything available to protect the area. Or vice versa.

Finally, the missing meeting members showed up. After the preliminaries were completed, Castor stood. “Things are moving along reasonably with the Equestrians. Twilight is still apologetic about the changeling and tells me that as far as she can tell the creature hasn’t done anything in . . . either world. I am milking that for all its worth for us.

“She did warn the Chief of the Wizengamot the same day she did us, but he hasn’t mentioned seeing or hearing anything. And he did promise to tell her the moment they detected the creature in any of their dominions.”

He sighed. “She did give him the same runes and technology to detect the creature, and does know they installed it in the castle. How much further they went is unknown.”

Sir Walker interrupted. “We’ve managed to get the revealing plates installed on the buildings beside The Leaky Cauldron. We’re hoping that they will force a reaction if the creature gets too close,” he explained to the Prime Minister. “We’re planning to get one of our agents to install them around the door late at night. We might be able to catch the creature if it enters or exits the building.” He shook his head.

Then he smiled, “We’re making good progress with finding those with talents in using this new energy,” which they all knew meant magic. “We’ve managed to uncover fifty in the military and had them reassigned as ‘Special Technology’ experts. We’re assigning them officer ranks. And we’ve only covered half the active services.”

His smile turned wry. “Their commanders all objected to losing what they felt were excellent men and women. We’re beginning to build a typical profile for those talented ones — the biggest lead is a lack of proof of secondary education. Most are quite eager to help us.

“Interviews with them have disclosed that they are all graduates of Hogwarts. They could not find magical employment because they were not half-bloods or pure-bloods. As a result, they returned to our more mundane world rather than starve.

“We’ve also discovered about a hundred that only have a small talent, such as Castor, here. They are also in the ‘Special Technology’ corp., but we’re using enlisted ranks. They haven’t enough talent to really do anything with the energy, but they can detect the advanced technological items and places without difficulty. They are the ones manning the cameras and helping us keep watch on the wizards.”

The group digressed and spent nearly half-an-hour discussing how to integrate the “Special Technology” individuals into their plans.

Castor continued, “I’ve seen the new dome enclosing the Equestrian side of the portal. It appears quite air-tight, with a large revolving airlock between the outside area and the portal.” He shook his head wryly.

“The new building’s walls are crystal clear, using bricks almost thirty centimetres thick.” He took some pictures out of his folder and handed them around. “As you can see, it leaves everything around the tree in full view at all times.” He sighed, “I don’t see how anything could sneak through that kind of coverage. Moreover, they have several guards watching at all times.

“You’ve already seen pictures of the dome they built over the tree on our side of the portal, and its walls are equally thick. I’m not positive, but Twilight said even a Dragon couldn’t break through those walls. I get the impression that a jet could crash into them and leave the walls unscratched.”

The others raised their eyebrows, then nodded.

“Between the two sets of walls, I don’t think we need to worry about any more creatures sneaking through.” He paused, then continued. “I relayed our concerns about cross-contamination and Twilight said, a few days after I mentioned it, that she had installed technology that sterilizes the materials brought through the portal.” He looked up and smiled. “No Andromeda Strain problems to worry about. On either side.”

Castor pointedly looked at the folder in front of the Prime Minister. “There is a sheet of runes in your folders. Twilight thinks we might like to install them in our hospitals and ambulances to fight infections and such. She’s included some for placement on tools and equipment, as well as some that can be sewn into hospital uniforms.”

He grinned at them. “I thought we could make them the circle on the official seal of the government lab responsible for certifying clothing that passed fire-retardant and germ-resistant tests. And make that required to be a patch sewed on all hospital clothing or their labels.”

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

KittyrinnAiko suggested this chapter’s potion-accident. And Senko provided the rules.

101 — Endings and Beginnings

“A wonderfully chaotic thought!” Discord practically gloated, staring intently at four trapped ponies. “What would happen now? Two could easily escape, gliding to safety off the cliff. Or would they stay and fruitlessly fight the doom that faced their family.” The tiny Discord watched with evident delight and anticipation. “Such suspense!”

The wolves were taken aback at the unexpected change in two of their victims. But they quickly recovered and made their way closer. They wanted the four away from the edge, to run. That way none of the wolves, or their prey, would accidently fall off the cliff to their deaths. And it was doubtful the surviving wolves would be able to get to the dead prey before others had scavenged it. No, it would be better if they could get them to run.

The ponies were also stunned at the change. The stallion flapped his wings once and twice. His front legs came off the ground. That definitely alarmed the wolves.

He shouted something to the adolescent. The adolescent was staring at its wings in shock as they moved up and down. It started at the shout, stumbled, and grabbed for the foal with its front two legs.

The wolves started a charge from the side with the mare to drive them in a panic away from the cliff-edge and towards the partially hidden and more numerous part of the pack.

The stallion turned and grabbed the mare in his front legs, and pushed them all over the edge. It was a chaotic few seconds. It became clear that the stallion was gliding quickly a few yards from the face of the cliff. The mare clutched frantically at him, as he did her. The adolescent with the foal was more falling than gliding. The little ones were barely managing to hold each other. It appeared, more than once, that the foal was going to slip free and fall to its death. But both sets were falling far slower than the rocks cascading down from the cliff’s edge behind them.

Their landing, a reasonable distance from the base of the cliff and well past the scree, was rough. But they were alive.

The wolves looked over the cliff’s edge, perplexed.

The audience in the ballroom breathed a sigh of relief.

There was a moment’s silence, filled only with the orchestra’s music and the soft drone from the dance floor. The scene dissolved into air, revealing Discord once again seated in his pink smoking chair.

The ponies standing around them started whispering among themselves. Was Discord really responsible for pegasi? All four princesses had watched the scene intently.

Luna looked at the draconequus with narrowed eyes. “Did that really happen?” she asked suspiciously.

“You wound me!” Discord exclaimed, slapping a paw over his chest where an arrow appeared, blood dripping. “It’s the absolute truth!”

He slyly looked away as the arrow dissipated. “Or are you suggesting that the stallion’s desperate desire to save his family triggered his innate magic to find a solution.” He cleared his throat, “And that I didn’t . . . direct . . . the magic . . . gave it a viable outlet . . . perhaps gave them a bird’s instinct on flying?” He gave her an offended look. “Well, I never!”

He looked at Celestia. “It was all my work.” He shrugged. “But I swear that’s what happened.” He smirked. “And the chaos that a flying pony caused on the plains was delicious. . . .” He sighed happily. “A single, little moment of inspiration, and the chaos continues to today.”

The chair and draconequus disappeared.

Fluttershy and Discord were now dancing a slow dance on the ceiling. They were accompanied by a small band of five Discords playing a music no one else could hear.

The four princesses exchanged looks. The crowd of nobles and court hangers-on around them slowly dispersed to spread the story of what they had seen and heard. And debates on the scene’s accuracy likely would rage for centuries, Albus knew. Especially given Discord’s history of pranking ponies.

Because, how trustworthy was Discord’s word?

A tiny Discord appeared on Shining Armor’s head, and blew a raspberry at Princess Cadance. Princess Cadance narrowed her eyes and glared at Shining Armor. He began to look alarmed and took a quick look around. He looked back at her and raised his eyebrows in hopeful query. He was clearly afraid he had done something wrong to make her angry at him.

It was clear who wore the pants in that marriage.

Albus saw Castor with his wife and daughter not too far away. He wondered what the squib thought of Discord. Did he realize just how powerful the creature really was? Or did he think it all hyperbole, exaggeration, and tricks?

He watched the man’s contemplative expression for several moments until the man looked over at him. The Headmaster smiled and raised an eyebrow. He inclined his head to one side.

Castor narrowed his eye, slowly nodded, said something to his wife. The two stallions slipped away from the whispering royals and the entourage around them. Castor’s wife led their daughter to the refreshments table.

Once the two former men had reached a secluded alcove, they stopped. There was a moment’s silence as they studied each other. Of course, being ponies made it very difficult to really make any judgements based on stance and expression. Albus noted that the man-turned-pegasus avoided looking him in the eyes.

“How did you get involved with the Equestrians?” Albus finally asked.

“Are you going to rape my mind if I say the wrong thing?”

۸-_-۸

Harry saw Thalia returning from the dance floor when she suddenly changed direction from the refreshment table and towards the Hogwarts contingent. Had the Princesses told the Searles that the latecomers her age and younger were actually students from Earth, just as she was?

“Are you really from Earth?” she asked when she reached them.

Apparently they had.

The twins grinned at her and said, “That we are, dear,” and threw their hooves across whichever of the others they could reach. And each other.

Percy frowned at them. “Mostly,” he said officiously. If he’d been wearing robes, Harry was sure he would have been smoothing the fronts down. He pointed at the three Cutie Mark Crusaders, “These three fillies are actually Equestrians. Their sisters are Element Bearers. But we all go to Hogwarts School of . . . Exceptional Students, in Scotland. It’s very exclusive, invitation only, you know.” He didn’t quite preen, but he looked smug.

She stared at them for a moment, then frowned. “So, if you’re ponies, here, then you have magic. Just like me. Except I don’t have enough magic to do anything on Earth. My father told me when we went through the portal that people without magic went through as people.” Percy and the twins exchanged surprised looks. Ron, Ginny, and Myrtle just frowned.

“And that those with enough magic become unicorns.” She stared a moment longer at the twins. “So, can you do magic on Earth? My father said only about one in a thousand people have magic.” She studied them a bit longer. “But you all have magic, because you’re ponies like me, and go to the same school.” She looked down at the floor, then back up. “I’ve never heard of Hogwarts as an English school, so, is it a magic school?”

Harry was impressed that she so quickly guessed they were wizards and witches.

The Weasleys were caught off balance.

Harry stepped forward, “Naw, it’s just a private school. They only invite students who had a parent go there. Both my parents went there. It’s why I got an invite even though I was in Equestria at the time.” He frowned. “I do wonder how the owl found me, though. It really shouldn’t have been able to.” His frown deepened and he looked up at the dancing couple on the ceiling. His gaze sought out Discord in particular.

“Owl?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “For some weird reason an owl brought my invitation instead of regular post.” He made an expression of disgust and shook his head. “My relatives really wouldn’t have liked that.”

She sighed and looked disappointed. She shook her head. “Princess Celestia told me that you were all wizards and witches, and that you went to a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

They all stood silent for a moment.

Several other young ponies had gathered to listen.

Myrtle sighed and looked apologetic. “It’s against the wizarding laws to talk about magic to anyone not magical.”

Thalia glared at the unicorn witch. “But I’m magical, or I wouldn’t be a pony, would I?”

“But not all squibs — wizards and witches who can’t do magic — know about wizardkind,” put in Percy. “So we have to act as if we don’t know what you’re talking about or we’ll be arrested for breaking the law. Unless we meet you in a wizarding place, we have to assume you don’t know about magic.”

Thalia looked around the room. “This place not magical enough for you?” She asked sarcastically.

“Being here doesn’t mean you knew about the wizards and witches on the other side, does it now?” Percy said.

They stared at each other a moment before she reluctantly nodded. She hadn’t known about them until the Princess had told her.

“It’s because we’re afraid that if the muggles find out about us, they’ll restart the witch hunts of old,” explained Ginny. She shivered.

It was Harry’s turn to sigh. “Even though most of the people hurt or killed in those hunts weren’t actually wizards or witches.”

“So, if you talk about this to anyone who isn’t a witch or wizard,” said Myrtle, “the aurors will come and arrest you. You even have to be careful who you tell in your own family!”

“Aurors?”

“Magical police,” explained Harry.

Thalia stared at them, as did several of their audience.

“Do you really use wands?” she asked, changing the conversation.

Ginny popped the wand out of her holster. She had it shoot some sparks, and levitated a piece of cake from the nearby refreshment table. Then cast lumos.

That she was a pegasus and doing magic awed the surrounding ponies and whispering quickly spread the word to those who didn’t see it themselves.

Harry noticed a Guard pony headed their way. He also saw a couple of Guard pegasi watching from overhead, as well. In a matter of moments there were four guards on the floor around them, watching from far enough away not to be a distraction to the conversation. The obvious unconventional magic had drawn their wary attention.

“Here,” said George, and hoofed her his wand. “Say lumos and think that the end of the wand lights up.”

Thalia tried it, but nothing happened. “It just feels like a warm stick to me,” she said, and looked at it in disappointment. She gave it back.

“And that’s why you never received an invite to Hogwarts,” explained Fred. “You haven’t enough magic to work a wand, so . . . .” He shrugged.

Somewhat disgruntled at the way they had lied to her, at first, the conversation didn’t last too much longer. She was also disappointed to confirm she didn’t have enough magic to be a witch. She did, however, get them to let her take a picture of them. And promised to mail them copies when she got home.

Harry told her to just send it to the Equestrian Embassy, addressed to The Weasleys, care of Princess Twilight.

She had barely turned away before there was a crowd of ponies around Ginny, of all three races, demanding she show them more magic. They were all astounded at seeing a non-unicorn so effortlessly manipulate magic. Soon Ron, Ginny, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and Percy were showing off some of the things they could do with wands. Percy, the most advanced of them, was soon the centre of attention.

Harry saw the twins sneak away while the others were occupied. He hoped they hadn’t discovered that salt was the pony equivalent of alcohol to their magic. Combine the two, and, well, it could be as bad as any alcohol-driven party on the other side. Only magical.

۸-_-۸

Albus took a step back at the naked antagonism from the pony . . . muggle . . . squib? After another moment of silence, he said, “I’m sure nothing of the sort will be necessary, unless you plan to reveal the wizarding world to the muggles.” He smiled gently. “And I’m sure you want that holocaust as little as I do.”

The pegasus stared at him with narrowed eyes before he slowly nodded. “I was a sergeant in the Surrey Police when I noticed that there seemed to be a lot of activity in the Green Zone beside Little Whinging.” He continued on to give a brief summary of how the situation with the Equestrians had been kicked up to the Prime Minister. And their efforts to keep the word “magic” out of the public’s notice in order to prevent an antagonistic response by the conservatives in the Church. That they hadn’t suspected there were wizards and witches until they met Princess Celestia and the Prime Minister had mentioned there might be people who could do magic.

That had been a very rude awakening, he explained frostily. As had the revelations of just how wizards and witches tended to regard the “muggles” and squibs.

And that he knew all about Harry Potter, Voldemort, and Hogwarts.

And why the wizards and witches wanted to stay hidden and secret from their non-magical brethren.

Castor stressed that if the wizards could keep their pointy little hats and heads out of the muggle arrangements with the Equestrians, there wouldn’t be any problems with anyone breaking the wizards’ precious Statute of Secrecy. The only people who knew the truth were those that had to know the truth. That, in fact, having the Equestrians at the forefront provided cover for the wizards, until the wizards felt safe enough to come out of hiding. If they ever did.

And that squibs, if they wanted to be pegasi, could come to Equestria and work for the British government. As could disaffected half-bloods, except they would be unicorns. All would be welcome in Equestria, from what the Royal sisters had told him. And an English Embassy on this side of the portal would probably employ hundreds — and service both their needs easily.

“Why hasn’t the Prime Minister said anything to Minister for Magic?”

“How?” came the simple answer. “There is no mechanism for him to initiate contact. Telling the wizarding portrait in the Prime Minister’s office that he wants to talk to the Minister for Magic has been useless.”

Albus sighed. Of course it would be. The muggles had no magic to trigger the magic in the portrait into action. And, unlike most portraits, it wasn’t supposed to be constantly moving — hence it could only be activated from the wizards’ side of the connection.

Plus, Cornelius, a pure-blood, would dismiss any request from the muggle Prime Minister as nothing important. Muggles were, as far as he was concerned, barely more than subsistence-farmers. Totally inconsequential beings unworthy of his attention except in an emergency — a wizarding emergency, that is.

“Well,” Albus said, “We know about the Equestrians, and that they are involved with the muggles, too, now.”

“What are you going to do?” Castor’s eyes narrowed and his stance became a bit more hostile. “If it’s anything that we consider hostile, we are more than ready to take that step. We know where most wizards are, now, and have already trained up hundreds of squibs in our military.”

“Nothing,” Albus said, shrugging, not letting on his alarm that the muggles knew what squibs were. And were actively working with them.

And squibs, by wizarding law, were allowed to work with muggles.

The only restriction under Ministry law was that the squibs could not talk about magic to uninformed muggles. But if the muggles already knew? The laws were rather vague in that respect.

“As long as you don’t threaten the Statute of Secrecy,” the old wizard said.

He sighed. “The Department of Magical Accidents is going to start investigating all instances of accidental magic. The goal will be to catch muggle-born children, and their parents, before their friends notice. The sooner we can get them prepared and informed, the safer we will be.” He paused. “Some will suggest we should foster the magical children with wizarding families.”

“Kidnapping children or coercing their parents is against the Queen’s law.”

They stared at each other.

Albus remembered what Discord had said about the world going up in smoke in retaliation for attacks on muggles. And he had no doubt the muggles would regard the taking of children from the rightful parents as an attack. Especially as it would necessitate obliviating the parents.

It might have worked a generation ago. Or at least before the Equestrians arrived. Now, too many would notice the magic and begin to question.

“I intend to point out that that would be counter-productive in the long term.”

“You need to bring your laws more into line with the Queen’s Law. Many of them are outright contrary to laws we’ve had for decades.”

“It will be very difficult.”

“But if you use the excuse that you are securing the Statute of Secrecy in view of the appearance of the Equestrians on the scene?”

“Perhaps. But still difficult.”

“But better than annihilation. We know where the important wizarding enclaves are all over the world, now. Especially in England. Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, the Ministry itself. Many of the minor ones, too, such as Godric’s Hollow. Moreover, with Squibs, like myself, who aren’t a part of the wizarding world, Her Majesty has our full support. So simply hiding with muggle-specific charms won’t work.”

Albus gave him a long look. If they already knew how to find the Ministry, Hogsmeade, and Diagon Alley, the muggles could do the wizarding world a lot of damage. And the Equestrians were the wild-card. How would they react if the wizards started obliviating their friends, right and left?

“What if we both set up a new department,” Castor suggested, “to allow wizards and witches to work in Her Majesty’s government and with the Equestrians? From your side, to preserve the Secrecy Statute; from our side, to keep the public thinking any magic they see is from Equestrian ‘technologies’ and not wizards or witches. Working together would be better than working at cross-purposes.” Castor paused, then added, “The Queen’s government takes a very dim view of mind rape. That will have to be the first thing to go.”

Albus stared at him levelly.

“And the Equestrians? What would they do?”

Castor shrugged. “They want trade. And they’ve shown they are very nimble at juggling their neighbours.”

He looked over at the two sisters and lifted his chin in their direction. “Princess Celestia has enough magic to move the sun, here. Bloody hell! The Sun!” He shook his head. “Princess Luna has enough to move the moon. I saw them do that yesterday and today. Imagine what they could do if wizards. Piss. Them. Off.” He looked down for a moment. “Or we do.”

He looked back up at Albus. “Working together may be the only way we have to level the playing field with the Equestrians. And we have far more to gain with them as friends than enemies.”

Albus remembered how powerful Luna had appeared when hunting the basilisk. She hadn’t even been winded. And she had shrunk the basilisk almost to the size of a small, harmless garden snake — something no one in the wizarding world could possibly have accomplished. But moving the Moon? He turned and looked at the two sisters. The Sun? The sisters had to have used magic to fool the poor muggle. Castor had to have been tricked by the sisters. There was simply no way anyone, or anypony, could move either the sun or the moon. If they had, astrologers would have noticed that long ago. And he knew neither the sun nor the moon had risen or set at an unusual time in the last few days. Or centuries.

He took a slow breath and carefully studied the four princesses. He slowly stopped looking at them with his eyes and shifted to using his magic. Two brightly glowing images came into view, completely obscuring the other two. He couldn’t see them as individuals, they were too bright for that. He couldn’t even make out their shapes. As before, one was half again as bright as the other. Just how powerful were they?

Something was watching him.

He blinked his eyes, several times. The room swam back into view. Princess Celestia was looking at him, and smirking. Had she actually felt him looking at her? He shook his head. It had to be a coincidence that she was looking at him. No one could pick up on such a small thing when in such a magic-rich location. Especially with so many ponies around looking at their rulers.

Castor looked around the room, as did Albus. Discord was nowhere in sight.

“And, based on what we’ve seen, the Royal sisters might ask the God of Chaos to step in. And I rather doubt he would listen to either of us. So, do you really want the God of Chaos throwing a wobbly at you?” He took a deep breath. “If even half the things they’ve told us about that creature are true, he could wipe out both magical and non-magicals — and not break a sweat. After all, he fought the two sisters to a standstill. They required the help of the . . . Elements of Harmony . . . a magical artefact, to beat him.”

Albus shuddered.

They continued discussing things for the next hour.

Naturally, no decisions could be made, but Princess Twilight would be their contact point for the moment, they decided, before separating. Castor left to find his wife and daughter. And Albus needed some time to mull things over.

Getting the Wizengamot to agree to some of the muggles’ requirements was going to be very, very difficult. Fortunately, the muggles were willing to give him time, if he could get the more egregious wizarding laws revised quickly enough.

During one trip to the refreshments table, he noticed the twins were no longer scouring the ballroom’s walls anymore. They seemed disappointed for some reason. However, later in the evening, he saw the twins dancing, or trying to dance, with other ponies. Mares, he assumed, from their dresses.

۸-_-۸

The ball lasted for several hours before it began to break up.

The children were all dead on their feet by that time, and their sisters had to carry them. And Percy carried Ginny while the twins switched off carrying Ron. The younger ones protested, of course, but not much. Which amused the adults.

Although it could have been just one twin who carried Ron and they merely pretended to switch.

Princess Twilight, of course, refused to let anyone else carry Harry to her castle.

And then she kindly escorted Albus back through the portal.

The reverse trip through the portal security was much more stringent than his arrival. They really did not want someone sneaking into his world.

When he was back in his office, he brought out his pensieve. Then he requested that Severus join him in a nightcap. He poured them both a large fire-whiskey, and settled back into his chair. There was much to discuss. And little sleep to be had before morning.

What he had seen and heard had major implications for the wizarding world. It would take intricate manoeuvring to keep the peace in the new triangle of power between the wizards, the Equestrians, and the muggles. But the benefits far outweighed the difficulties. The most difficult part would be getting the old wizarding families to take muggles seriously.

If he could get the Princesses to assist him, Voldemort would not be a problem. As powerful and cunning as the wizard might become, he still would not be able to stand up to the sisters. And while he might be still on this plane instead of the next, it might not be that enjoyable an existence if someone, or rather some creature, threw him to the moon or sun.

However, clearly the most obvious thing to do would be a new rule waiting for the Gryffindors when the winter hols were over and they returned.

Students are strictly FORBIDDEN to call upon a certain Equestrian-Atlantean during Professor Snape’s lessons. Or any other lesson. Or within Hogwarts in general. Or anywhere near it. Or quote this rule out loud more than once in twenty-four hours. Per whole group and not per person. Just . . .DON’T! Penalties include dismissal from Hogwarts and/or time in Azkaban.

And the other three houses would discover the same rule posted beside their House entrances, inside the common rooms, that would probably leave them all puzzled. Who was this mysterious Equestrian?

۸-_-۸

The day after the Ball started with laughter, then a mournful, duet wail from the twins’ room. The Weasleys quickly gathered, followed by the other Castle inhabitants. They burst into the room to see two very plain looking, dull-coated mares. One was much shorter than the other, with a bushy, stringy mane and tail, and an expression that made her look like an oaf. Her coat was grey, the mane was just a darker grey, and it completely hid her ears.

The other was tall and thin with buck teeth, a crooked muzzle, and brown coat. Her mane, the same colour as her coat, was short, almost unnoticeable, with ears that stuck up twice as high as they should.

No one would ever confuse the two. Making that even more unlikely was the white-furred “F” on the face of the brown mare.

They were still unicorns, fortunately, but the horns were twisted instead of a spiral.

Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or not. Ginny saved him from his dilemma by bursting into laughter and sitting down. A moment later, Ron followed. Percy tried to hide a smile, but it didn’t work.

If his mum hadn’t assured the twins that the poison joke could easily be cured, the Weasleys would have been horrified. But in the meantime, Myrtle grabbed her camera and took pictures.

So it was, after breakfast, that they all adjourned to the Ponyville Day Spa where Aloe prepared a special bath for the twins. Lotus Blossom made sure the rest were properly attended to in the other pool. Harry might have objected if it wasn’t so obvious the mares in the group really liked it. That and it gave him an excuse to cuddle with his mum and no one could tease him about it.

And gave the others plenty of time to tell the Blossom sisters all about the Ball the night before, including Discord’s revelations about pegasi.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

Rule 11 suggested by Firestorm.

105 — Not as Safe as Thought

Author's Note

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105 — Not as Safe as Thought

“At that time, though,” Castor explained, “I said she could visit mine, not knowing what Princess Luna meant.”

He looked at the Prime Minister.

“She literally entered my dreams that night. I had no idea I was dreaming until she spoke up. From what she explained, normally she only enters dreams that are nightmares — nasty red and black roiling messes of cloud, she said — so her ponies can have a good night’s sleep. The blacker the cloud the worse the nightmare. There aren’t many that have nightmares, despite their six million population. Mostly, she said, it’s the small colts and fillies. She reassures them and helps them battle their nightmare. Sometimes she consoles them, other times she tells them to ask for help — when they wake in the morning — with the problems that created the nightmares.

“Rarely, she has to actually fight against a nightmare monster, as-in there are actually monsters who can enter a dream from the outside and attack a person. Such attacks can change their personality or even consume them, she told me. Such happenings are extremely rare, she said. But it is why she roams the pony dreamscape.”

His audience was looking alarmed.

“She did mention that pink dreams are private, and after encountering them when she was just learning of her dreamscape powers — several thousand years ago — she has made it a rule to never go into one.”

That got a few frowns, and snorts.

“Human dreams are very chaotic, she said, and the only ones she had encountered were when Harry Potter first came to their world. They left her very worried about his sanity. The dreams she saw at our experimental hospital with both our patients and the volunteers had lessened her worry somewhat that he was abnormal by human standards, but didn’t reassure her on his complete sanity. She understood that the patients and volunteers were all military personnel and did not reflect an actual cross-section of humanity.” He paused for a drink of water.

“That still left her with the problem of deciding if all humans are insane by pony standards. She hoped that my wife’s and daughter’s dreams might assist her.”

He shook his head. “She can enter a human’s dream and observe it, but unlike pony dreams she cannot subtly control it. She is, in her words, ‘swept along like a feather in a windstorm.’ Fortunately for us, she has great difficulty separating imagination from reliving a real experience. Her ponies’ dreams tend to merely reflect a peaceful reality unless they are having a nightmare.

“It was quite bizarre to have her ask, ‘How did you do that,’ when I had a coffee machine appear and deliver a cup of coffee in my dream.” He frowned. “For some reason it tasted like a banana.” He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He didn’t want to wander in a meeting with the Prime Minister.

“As you can imagine, this is, if you’ll pardon the pun, a nightmare for security.” He again looked around the room. “Fortunately for us, when she does more than simply observe the dream, or tries to search for something specific, she creates what I have heard called a lucid dream. I was immediately aware of her, and could take control of my dream.”

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “That was unusual to her. Most ponies, it seems, do not have the ability to lucid dream. Or, at least, have the ability but rarely need to use it.”

He again shook his head. “However, that isn’t important. What is, is that we must warn everyone that there is a very real and distinct possibility that Princess Luna might drop into one of their dreams. And I don’t know what we can do to prevent that from happening unless we can somehow make our dreams pink clouds all the time.”

He clasped his hands and looked around.

“And, I’m worried that asking her not to enter our dreams, to respect our privacy, could be another problem.” He stopped a moment at their looks, realizing they misunderstood what he meant. “Not that I think she wouldn’t do as we asked, but what if one of those ‘dream monsters’ she mentioned makes an appearance?” he explained. “If we’ve asked her not to look in our dreams, we’re essentially defenceless to something that might be capable of killing us, or doing grievous harm to our psyche.”

There was a moment of silence as they all considered that problem.

“Next, at the Ball in honour of my Knighthood, I met with Albus Dumbledore. The wizard, Headmaster of Hogwarts and Chief Warlock of their Wizengamot — parliament.”

That raised some eyebrows. “I didn’t know he had been visiting Equestria,” said the Home Secretary.

Castor shook his head. “This was his first time through the portal. And to say he was as shocked as I was at the reality of Equestria is an understatement.” His smile was as ironic as his tone when he said, “He is convinced that Equestria is actually Atlantis, but hidden from us by powerful magics we cannot hope to penetrate.”

They stared at him in disbelief.

“He makes a good argument, I must say.” Castor sighed. “He takes the existence of so many human mythological animals in Equestria as proof that the Greeks, and a few other ancient civilizations, stumbled across a portal — which is quite plausible. They never realized that it wasn’t on Earth, and so named the place they went as Atlantis. They assumed it was ‘across the sea.’ Hence, in his mind at least, Atlantis and Equestria are the same place. And that it is hidden here on Earth, masked from the rest of the world.”

Castor looked down at the table and back up. “When I suggested it might be another world, he belittled it. He said wizards had looked for other worlds with magic and concluded ours was the only one.” He shook his head.

“And the reason we will never be able to convince the wizards and witches that Equestria is actually another world is because of the next item on my list.

“However, before I get to that, there was the mention of a prophecy twelve years ago. A creature that the Princesses called the God of Chaos said that because it wasn’t revealed in full by Dumbledore to anyone at that time, we escaped nuclear annihilation via World War Three, and the Soviets using their doomsday bombs in the Urals.”

There was dead silence at that point as the others exchanged horrified looks.

“I don’t know how we can get verification of this, but that’s more M.I. six than five.” He looked over at Sir McColl and shrugged. “I’ll list in my report the exact date mentioned, as near as I can figure. Maybe if we ask nicely, the Soviets will cooperate.” The man adopted a pensive expression and frowned. Major just snorted.

“And I met a creature, Princess Celestia said he was Discord, the God of Chaos. I’m not sure who or what he is. I think my daughter managed to get a picture of him. Whatever he is, he fits the description of our worst nightmare regarding aliens. He claims to be a minimum of six thousand years old.”

He paused to gather his thoughts. “Princess Celestia told me some of the things she has seen him do. If I hadn’t seen some of his antics at the Ball, I would have said she was exaggerating, trying to see how much of a mug I was.”

He looked up with a haunted expression. “He breaks every law of the universe, and considers the universe his play thing. He plays with physics the way a toddler plays with playdough.”

A voice from above interrupted them, “Why, thank you, Warrant Officer First Class Castor Searle, Honorary Knight of the Realm of Equestria.”

Discord was looking down at them through a steel trapdoor in what they knew was a solid wooden ceiling.

“I don’t think anyone has ever given me such a nice introduction.” He bowed as he floated down through the trapdoor.

Their mouths dropped open. Number Ten Downing was under anti-apparition and anti-portkey charms.

Discord slowly spun until he turned right-side up. The trapdoor disappeared.

“Magic?” the Prime Minister said hesitantly, glancing at the others.

Discord grinned a crocodile grin, his face morphing. “Oh, no. What I do is as far above magic as the nuclear furnace of your sun is bigger than a match.”

He opened a square door in the air, reached in, and took out a miniature sun and five planets. Four were small and the banded fifth was much larger and had a giant red spot. The planets hung stationary in their orbits around the sun that he held in the claws of his left “hand.” Little signs floated above them, identifying Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, and Jupiter, just in case anyone couldn’t figure it out from the way the third and fourth planets looked like blue and red marbles, respectively. The blue one had a smaller silver ball beside it with a tiny sign planted into it that read “Moon.” There was a black darkness behind them that made them easy to see.

Smoke began to curl up from where he held the sun with his claws.

Castor noticed that it was suddenly darker outside, as if a cloud was passing over the building. He stared out the windows for a moment, as did the Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary and Sir Walker, who were also facing the windows. The forecast had said it would be a cloudless day, and so far it had been. A rarity in England at this time of year.

Everything in view, however, appeared to be under a cloud. Although none could be seen out the windows.

Discord leaned closer to Major. “The IRA will be in contact, soon. And Benny Hill will pass on.”

He straightened, smiling. Then he looked puzzled and sniffed the air. He looked around the room and then at his smoking claws. From the way he was holding the sun, one of his claws rested against part of the surface, obscuring that portion from the third planet. “Ah!” he said, and dropped the sun, waving his claws and blowing on them. “Hot! Hot! Hot!” he said breathlessly.

Through the windows, Castor noticed, as did the others, that it had turned bright again. The miniature solar system disappeared. Castor feared that whatever had happened, had been seen by nearly every person outside on this side of the Earth. The telly this evening would be interesting.

The strange creature looked at the five men sitting back in shock.

“Well, have to go, Tally ho! There’s a certain pegasi I need to see for tea . . . .” He opened a rip in the air with a sound much like that of a Velcro strip opening. They could see a banded planet through it, appearing similar to Jupiter, but the sun to the side was much, much bigger. There were two moons in profile.

The men knew, somehow, that the other side of the rip was deep space. Perhaps it was the clarity of details on both the star and planet. Or the way the temperature dropped as the heat was sucked out of the room.

He started to step through, then stopped. He looked back at them with an expression of embarrassment on his face. “Oops, wrong pegasi. I said a certain pegasi, not 51 Pegasi.” He slammed it closed, like someone pulling down a window shade. “However, with only a four-day year, a tea with Fluttershy would last a quarter of the year . . . .” He smirked, “Bellerophon is so jealous.” He then opened a new rip. This time it sounded like someone opening a shirt held closed by snaps. Castor could see a mountain in the distance, with what he recognized as Canterlot visible on one side.

Discord stepped through and closed the jagged rip with a giant zipper that slowly faded away.

They sat in dead silence for several minutes.

Castor, his mouth extremely dry, said, “That was Equestria. I recognized Canterlot on that mountain in the distance.” The others turned their attention to him. “Celestia said it required all of her and her sister’s magic, plus a magical artefact, to seal him away and prevent his meddling. She says he’s reformed now, one of their friends, for certain definitions of friend.”

He looked bleakly at the other stunned men, their faces white with shock. “I think it’s safe to say we do not want Princess Celestia or Princess Luna mad enough at us to sic him on us. Or even just they, themselves, taking offense, if they have enough power together to constrain such a creature.”

The others nodded slowly.

There had been more they had planned to cover in the meeting. But after seeing Discord, and Castor’s revelations regarding the sisters, they decided it would be better to reschedule the remainder for another day. After Castor had completed a report on his “vacation” in Equestria and had it in all their hands. With any conclusions or observations he had to make. And photos.

He was going to probably wear out the ribbon on the typewriter.

This creature, as he had said, was their worst nightmare for an alien contact.

Any creature who could open a portal between dimensions, at random will, and across hundreds of trillions of kilometres, made their problems with the Soviet Union and China — or the colonies — pale into insignificance.

Her Majesty’s government would do everything they could to keep Discord and, by extension, the Equestrians, happy with them.

And there would be some rather intense study of the star known as 51 Pegasi.

۸-_-۸

Elly was frustrated and annoyed at the situation, but she couldn’t let anyone realize that her smile was fake. She had awoken at six with the intention of sneaking into the mirror room in the early morning. With curfew over at six-thirty, she had plenty of time to prepare for the day. She knew no one would be up and exploring at that time. Most students preferred to sleep as late as possible.

She had calculated that she would have about an hour and a half, maybe two, before classes started. More than enough time to glean what she could of what might be her heart’s desire and what she might need to do to get it.

Unfortunately, her room-mates had surprised her when she had returned from the shower. They were awake and had wanted to know why she was. A quick, “Woke early and couldn’t get back to sleep,” hadn’t helped. They had decided to get up, too, and accompany her to breakfast. As long as they were up, they might as well get in a bit of studying before classes today.

She couldn’t dissuade them. To tell them, outright, to ‘piss off,’ as the older students sometimes said when friends and acquaintances were annoying, would damage her relationship with them. She couldn’t afford to do that for no reason.

So, she had been in the Great Hall before breakfast, wasting time she could have spent examining the images in the mirror, making small talk with her classmates instead. She didn’t need to study, she had memorized the year’s textbooks. She could take the year-end tests and pass easily. She could probably even pass the practicals of the wand exercises, although her magic was weak in comparison to most.

But she couldn’t let them know that. She had to pretend difficulties to prevent any suspicions that she was smarter than she let on. Still, it wasn’t a waste, as a good infiltrator knew her information thoroughly — a mistake could ruin the infiltration and lead to severe problems, or even death. Practice made perfect, and this forced practice was quite valuable in learning patience. Plus, she was putting the time to good use.

Most of her studying was into the culture around her. There were just so many things she didn’t know that all the others, even the muggle-borns, took for granted. A charm disguised her current book, about the Romans in England, as a standard textbook, to avoid suspicions while she was reading it at lunch.

۸-_-۸

“Could I have your attention, please?” There was a sharp ringing sound as Albus tapped his cup with his wand. It was part way through dinner and everyone was present. Or, at least, almost everyone.

The room quieted down quickly and the students turned to face him.

He smiled genially. “You may remember we had a little excitement last term regarding the infamous Chamber of Secrets.”

There was soft and nervous laughter. Then the room again grew quiet. Perhaps even more-so than before. “We have finished canvassing the extensive chamber, and the tunnels and rooms around it,” the Headmaster continued. “We found what we believe was Salazar Slythern’s study,” he announced proudly. “While there were some books and artefacts, it seems the Founder took most of his work with him when he left the castle.” He scanned the room as excited chattering broke out. “Alas, most of the tomes appear to be in Parseltongue and cannot be read by those without that gift.” He waited for the noise to abate. “Anything that might pose a danger has been removed, and the room itself cleaned. On Saturday, the Prefects will be given a tour of this historic room and its history explained. Objects that we found, items left from when the castle was built, will be on display. As well as a life-size replica of the basilisk that lived there for so long.”

He smiled at everyone in the room. “The tours will be quite educational, if I say so myself, as well as rather fascinating.

“Every Saturday for the rest of the term there will be two one-hour tours for interested students, in groups of ten. The tours will be conducted by the Prefects, and will be organized in order of student seniority. Seventh Years will receive priority, as they graduate soonest. Please see your House news-board for signup information.

“There will be a few tours for Ministry personnel. In May, we intend to open these tours up to the general public on a first-come, first-serve basis. We will charge the public a modest one sickle to reimburse the Prefects for their valuable time and to pay for cleaning and maintaining the facility.”

He smiled again at the students, then raised his arms. “Thank you for your attention.” He sat back down at the table.

The room started to buzz with speculation and anticipation.

۸-_-۸

Elly had tried to sneak away after the last class before dinner, but that had been a failure. Her friends had wanted to discuss the day’s assignments before heading for the library.

Elly skipped dinner that evening, knowing that everyone else would be there. Which left her at least an hour with the mirror — to study what it showed without interference. She was especially interested in what it might show her regarding choices she should make.

Frustratingly, the faces of the humans kept fading in and out. The Equestrians tended to show up the most. Which, when you considered what a bonanza they were in emotion compared to the wizards and witches, was not exactly a surprise. Somehow, though, she couldn’t imagine them being willing partners in donating emotional food to her.

It also wasn’t a surprise that some of the lings in the mirror were her old classmates from when she was training. She would have liked seeing them again. But they were all dead, she knew. Heart’s Desire, and all that.

Once more, she was startled to hear voices outside the room. Again, she hid herself with spells in a corner.

The disturbance was, of course, the Equestrians. This time, however, they had brought the rest of the Gryffindor cohort, as well as Myrtle, the twins, and the rest of the Quidditch team. Without a doubt, the room would have been overcrowded if it hadn’t had been a classroom at one time.

Elly spent more than a few minutes worrying that one of the students would trip over her — literally. The ones not in front of the mirror were wandering around the room and exploring. She wished her new form would let her walk on walls and ceiling as her Equestrian form had. She vowed to see about adding that capability in the future. If it was possible. If she could get it sorted.

“ ’Cor, that is soo brill!” “Blast!” and “Blimey!” were just the beginning of the exclamations from the newcomers. Hermione reminded them, several times, that the mirror showed them what they desired and not what was definitely going to happen in the future. Or had happened in the past. She, it seemed, had somehow found time today to look up the mirror in the library and what it did.

“Apparently,” Hermione began to explain, “The mirror is rather famous for trapping wizards and witches into thinking that what they see in the mirror is real, that if they try hard enough, what they see will become true. Or that their deceased loved ones are really on the other side of the mirror and can hear them and respond.”

She shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately, it can’t do that. The people in the mirror are reflections of the viewer’s hopes and dreams, nothing more.” She sighed heavily. “The reality is that the people you see in the mirror, how they are reacting, and what they are doing, is just a figment of your own imagination.”

She brightened. “But it’s a great tool for seeing what you really want, versus what you think you might want. Especially if you can compare today to what you saw a week, or a month, or a year ago,” she concluded enthusiastically.

“I do wonder why it’s in this room here, though, so easily accessible. And it’s even stranger that we’ve never noticed it before yesterday!” She looked at the others waiting their turn at the mirror. “It must have been only recently put here. While we were on hols, you think?”

Every once in a while, and especially when an Equestrian took a turn, Elly got a brief wave of love. But she resigned herself into being trapped in her corner until they left. Which would probably be just before curfew. In the meantime, she was bored and aggravated at the circumstances.

This time though, she managed to escape a bit early when some of the group started back while the older students stayed. She quickly crossed the room and attached herself to the rear of the group. She still used the notice-me-not, but if anyone did notice they would merely think it was one of their friends, and not a little Hufflepuff.

۸-~-۸

Tuesday went the same as Monday for Elly. She just couldn’t escape her dorm-mates. What a time for them indulge in their camaraderie! Under other circumstances she would have been overjoyed at their acceptance of her and the pleasurable feelings coming from them.

It was late afternoon before she could escape the clutches of her friends, immediately after the last class. She cited being drowsy because, for some reason, she hadn’t slept well the night before.

She saw three students standing on the platform outside the room with the mirror. They were leaning against the wall. She slowed and looked at them, puzzled and annoyed. Why were they here?

At her unspoken question, the Ravenclaws closest to the door said, “Oh, you’re here to see the mirror, too? It’s as fantastic as they say! You’re better here now than later. The line will reach the bottom of the tower soon, I’m sure.”

Elly blinked. Her confusion must have shown.

“It’s the Mirror of Erised. Haven’t you heard?”

She nodded slowly. It was too late to retreat.

Fifteen minutes later she walked into the room as another student, a Ravenclaw, walked out. A Prefect was standing just inside.

The line had grown to the point she couldn’t see it beyond the curve of the tower.

“You get five minutes to stand in front of the mirror. Stand on the ‘x’ on the floor. Wait your turn,” he said — as she had heard him say twice already. He explained that the mirror only showed what you desired, using images from your mind. It did not show the future or past. Nor was it a window to the land of the deceased.

“Time!” he called, after a few minutes.

The student staring at the mirror startled, gave the prefect a questioning look, and then sighed. He stepped around behind the mirror. The Prefect said, as she had heard him say to the others, “Stand on the ‘x’, when I call time, exit behind the mirror so you don’t block the next student.”

It was as she had seen the night before. She took her time in front of the mirror to memorize every detail rather than try to interpret what she saw. The problem was that the longer she stood there the more details and lings that appeared in the mirror.

She heard, “Time!” said beside her. It couldn’t be time already! She had barely stepped in front of the mirror. A quick look at his frowning face and she took a step away from the mirror. She shook her head as she slowly walked behind the mirror and the next student took her place.

“Quite an experience, wouldn’t you say?” said the Headmaster, standing outside the room as she exited.

She looked up at him and nodded, her mind filled with the images she had just seen. She blinked and looked away. The students in the line were now nervous, worried the Headmaster might order them to leave before they had had a turn.

Elly was trying hard not to panic. The last thing she wanted was to be known and recognized by someone in a high position. And you couldn’t get much higher than the Headmaster of the school! For her, safety lay in anonymity.

۸-_-۸

Author’s Note: * Within astronomy, ‘Pegasi’ is genitive singular, not nominative plural.

117 — Calling the Cavalry

A unicorn was dead? Another was hurt? There were centaurs in the forest?

He grabbed his arms, hunched over slightly, and shivered. Who would hunt unicorns? Harry clutched his wand tightly as he remembered Tirek. The giant centaur had stolen his magic, if only for a few days before being overcome.

The girls would never forgive him if he got hurt.

Well, he knew what to do when a centaur was sighted. Not even Rainbow would be able to keep up with him! And if he couldn’t run? Then he bloody well intended to teleport, Hogwarts’ charms or not!

Malfoy’s recalcitrant objections were over-ruled, to all the students’ disappointment, Hagrid led them into the forest.

Harry wanted to object, too. But while his mum merely would be disappointed at him being kicked out of Hogwarts, he wasn’t so sure Princess Celestia would be so . . . forgiving. It was at her behest that he was here in the first place. And he never wanted to disappoint somepony who could literally cook him in an instant. Or banish him to the Moon.

Hagrid split them into two reluctant groups, one to follow in each direction of the trail of silvery-blue blood. Whichever group found the unicorn was to send up sparks to alert the others.

Harry prayed that was all that would happen.

Draco and Pansy insisted that Fang go with them, even after Hagrid told them, “He’s a big coward, he is.”

There was a brief scare for Harry, Ron, and Hagrid as something big moved in the dark, but it was a false alarm. They resumed their search. They travelled deeper into the forest for the next half-hour.

Then came a second scare. “Who’s there?” shouted Hagrid. “Show yerself!” He swung his crossbow up, ready to use it.

It took only a moment for Harry to recognize the creature that came into view. A pony as big as Celestia stepped into the clearing in front of them. He had a gleaming chestnut body and long, reddish tail. However, it was the sight of a man’s body, from the waist-up, where the neck and head of a pony should be that had Harry screaming, “Run!” He barely noticed the bow and arrow the centaur held in one hand.

Harry yanked on Ron’s arm, and charged back the way they had come at full speed — as a unicorn. Four hooves were simply faster than two legs! He had to use his magic to hold his glasses in place.

No way was he giving up see-in-the-dark vision when a monster was chasing him in the forest at night!

Harry slid to a halt at the edge of the forest, where they had first entered. Faintly, behind him, he could hear Ron’s stumbling hoof-steps. He didn’t have night-vision glasses like Harry did.

“Philomena! Philomena!” Harry called urgently, and looked all around desperately.

There was a flash of brilliant light, and the red-and-gold phoenix flamed into view.

“Get mum and the Guard!” Harry said quickly, “There’s a CENTAUR at Hogwarts! He’s only as big as Princess Celestia, so we got a chance! He’s killed one unicorn and hurt another!”

The bird disappeared in another flash of light.

Harry climbed a tree, as high as he could get, and wrapped all four legs securely around the tree’s trunk. He squirmed close, casting a notice-me-not. He didn’t think it would stop the centaur from finding him, but it would slow him down. He made himself as small and quiet as he could.

It was a trick he and the fillies had learned in the Everfree. Predators rarely looked up when following a scent.

He could only hear Ron’s stumbling steps in the darkened forest.

It was clear what had happened. The centaur had surprised and attacked a unicorn, injuring her greatly. The poor soul had managed to escape, but was running in blind terror. The centaur had leisurely chased her, taunting her, keeping her too panicked to think clearly and possibly get away. Hence the blood trail they had found. The monster had carefully herded her away from her family, or anypony else, who would have understood and sought help.

And Harry remembered quite clearly Tirek’s rampage through Equestria, stealing magic and leaving ponies to struggle and die. The ones remote from the cities fared the worst — the animals, like cragadiles, lions, and bears, had taken advantage of their weakness to attack.

It had taken days for his mum to prepare, and even then she had lost. Tirek had absorbed too much magic for Twilight to combat — until Tree of Harmony, and Chaos, had saved them. Thousands had died in the meantime.

There was no hurry, here, for the centaur. Harry’s mum and the Princesses were far, far away. He could take his time and enjoy the terror he inspired. And then steal her magic when the exhausted unicorn collapsed.

Ron, still tripping over forest debris, came into view.

“Hsst,” Harry said, trying to attract Ron’s attention.

Ron stopped and looked around, wide-eyed.

“Up here,” Harry said hoarsely.

“Harry?” Ron said, stunned to find the unicorn hiding high up in a tree.

“Run to the castle! Warn the professors that there’s a magic-stealing centaur in the forest and he’s already caught two unicorns!” Harry said frantically.

Ron glanced at the castle and took a couple of steps, then said, “What’re you doing?”

“I sent Philomena to get my mum! She’ll know what to do! I gotta wait for her here. Now GO!”

Ron, again, glanced at the castle, then back up at Harry. He took a deep breath, then took off as fast as his hooves would take him. He wasn’t quite a blur, but he was trying.

Harry saw him open the castle doors when there was a double-flash of light from below.

“Harry?” called his mum.

He almost fell from the tree in relief.

It was his mum!

“Up here,” he said.

She looked up, then sighed. A purple glow took hold of the colt and brought him down.

He started babbling immediately. “We were in detention and Mr. Filch said we had to follow Hagrid and he took us into the Forbidden Forest to find a hurt unicorn that was bleeding pretty bad and unicorns here are really, really big, so it was real important but then we saw a CENTAUR!” He was hopping up and down and darting side to side to look back into the forest on either side of her. “He must be stealing the unicorn’s magic which is why it was running away and got hurt and the centaur is big! He’s easily bigger than you, maybe as big as Princess Celestia so Ron and I ran away as fast as we could and then I called for Philomena and sent her for you and then Ron caught up and I told him to run to the castle and then you got here and brought me down from the tree and I told you what happened!”

The outside of the castle suddenly lit up as giant balls of light appeared just below the crenellations. The lawn was lit as if it were day.

Harry screamed and covered his eyes. His glasses had gone completely white. He took them off and perched them on the back of his neck, out of the way.

While he was standing there, blinking, there was another double-flash of light beside them. This time a trio of pony Guards appeared.

His mum quickly whirled to face them. “There’s a native unicorn injured in the forest,” she said, and pointed down the trail. “Harry said that he thinks a centaur is responsible. That it was hunting her.”

The sergeant took a quick look around, then ordered, “Corporal Clever, backtrack the trail, find the centaur, and report!”

“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am,” the earth-pony guard said firmly, as he saluted, then started down the trail Hagrid had originally taken. He was very big, almost as big as Big Mac back home, Harry noticed. And he was outfitted with one of the new gun-harness saddles, as were the other two, but his was one Harry had never seen. It seemed to be six barrels mounted in a circle really close together on one side instead of two barrels on either side. There was also a huge box on his other side, with another on his back. And everything was all black. As soon as he entered the forest, his golden armour, weapons, and appearance took on the colours around him, making him almost impossible to see.

Despite what had to be a heavy load, he moved silently into the forest, carrying the equipment as if it were nothing. Maybe it had a feather-weight charm? Huh. On second thought, considering his size and that he was an earth-pony, did he even need a feather-weight charm on his load?

“Corporal Target, Find the edge of the teleport charm, and alert the rest of the troop!”

“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am,” said the slight unicorn firmly, and saluted. She turned and followed her compatriot into the forest. She had the standard two-rifle saddle harness. Like Corporal Clever, her passage was silent and she quickly blended into the forest.

There was another double phoenix-flash and another trio of ponies appeared.

“We’ll set up the first line of defence along here,” the sergeant said, sweeping her leg along the edge of the forest as she gave instructions to the newcomers. “The forest will give us some cover and the opportunity to flank the centaur when he emerges.”

The three immediately took positions around them, and hunkered down. They shimmered and took on the green and browns of the grass around them.

Harry watched with wide eyes.

“Harry,” his mum said, “Are you sure you saw a centaur?”

“Hmm?” He looked back up at her. “Yes,” he said firmly. “But he didn’t have horns like Tirek. But that could just be a trick to confuse us. And he’s still small, maybe only a bit bigger than Princess Celestia.”

In the background behind them, he could see people coming of the castle doors. With his glasses off, he could tell that they were adults only because they were beside someone small, who had to be either Ron or Professor Flitwick.

She sighed. “Harry? Centaurs here don’t steal your magic.”

He looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked suspiciously.

She sighed again, and rubbed her hoof across her forehead. She looked at the figures hurrying towards them.

Harry could hear a steady stream of ponies as they started to come out of the forest behind them, and the sergeant started to give them directions.

“Not enough to assume you’re wrong,” she said dryly.

Suddenly there came a voice from the sergeant. “Sergeant! Corporal Clever. Unicorn down! Civilian! Send a medic! No sign of hostiles. Over.”

“Copy that. Over,” said the pegasus, her head turned to the glowing crystal attached to her shoulder. “You three!” she ordered, pointing, “Follow the trail. Channel one-three-five.”

A glow on the shoulder of the unicorn addressed indicated she was adjusting her communications crystal. The three took off at a quick trot, and backtracked up the trail they had just come down. They dodged around the incoming troops.

A new set of three took up positions around the Princess and Harry.

Suddenly, from a distance in the forest, there came the sound of a saw ripping through wood. Harry looked up curiously. But for the Guards things had just gone from, “there might be a problem,” to, “HOLY CELESTIA! GET YOUR TAILS IN GEAR!”

Three pegasi immediately took to the air, arrowing towards the sound, six more tore into the forest at a run. Guards frantically began setting up equipment on the berms around holes at the forest’s edge as fast as they could be excavated. Newly arriving ponies charged past at a full gallop and headed partway up the lawn, where a different sergeant was already indicating lines of fire, trenches, and engagement positions.

The ripping sound cut out, its echoes dying out quickly. There was a brief whine that suddenly stopped. There was complete silence from that direction, in contrast to the noise of the Guards on the lawn. Harry saw at least six night-ponies burst out of the tree tops and head deeper into the forest.

“Status, Corporal Clever!” the sergeant barked.

More people were spilling out of the castle, and the towers’ windows were suddenly crowded.

The sergeant didn’t get a response.

“Status, Corporal Clever!” she repeated.

The Headmaster could really move, when he wanted, apparently, as he was the first to arrive, followed by Professors Snape, Flitwick, and McGonagall. The professors were all looking at the frantic activity on the castle’s front lawn with astonished expressions.

They must have ordered Ron to stay in the Castle. Other professors waited at the castle door.

Twilight transformed into a person — she remembered clothes, this time, Harry was relieved to see.

Harry wasn’t sure if they were surprised by the activity or the fact that handless ponies, barely waist-high, were making quick work of transforming the area into a defensive redoubt with trenches and foxholes. And that it ran the length of the lawn around Hogwarts.

“What seems to be the problem?” Headmaster Dumbledore asked Harry’s mum, looking around curiously.

“Corpsman Skin, here. Corporal Clever is down, as well as the civilian,” came a voice from the Sergeant’s communication crystal.

“Harry says he saw a centaur,” Harry’s mum said looking between Harry and the Headmaster.

“The clearing looks like he put up a good fight.”

“And that something is killing unicorns,” she looked off into the forest, frowning.

“No sign of hostiles. Over.”

“He suspects the centaur drained their magic.”

“Both are stable, although Corporal Clever has had his front right leg severed and has severe head and chest wounds. Over.”

“Centaurs have no interest in magic, as such,” the Headmaster protested calmly.

“Maybe,” his mum, shrugging. “Our experience has been different.”

Hagrid walked out of the forest, Draco and Pansy behind him. The flood of ponies from the forest flowed around them like water around a big rock in a stream. By now there must be at least a hundred here, Harry realized.

“Looks like both are the victims of cutting curses. Over.”

“In fact, they eschew any association with casting magic, relying solely on their own strength to defend themselves.” Dumbledore said evenly.

“But it is better to be safe than sorry,” she responded, frowning at the Headmaster.

The half-giant was looking around, bewildered by the activity. His crossbow was slung across his back. He seemed to barely notice the six ponies that were escorting him and the two students. He spent more attention on watching where he was going as the knee-high ponies rushed around him. Draco and Pansy crowded close to avoid being trampled by the almost chest-high, to them, armoured and armed ponies.

“The civilian has numerous cuts and wounds. She is barely alive. Over.”

It was weird to see an earth pony walking forward while a unicorn stood braced on his back watching Hagrid behind them. And keeping his saddle-mounted rifles aimed at the wizard — not that the wizard in question understood their significance. The two pegasi hovering directly behind him immediately went higher and to flanking positions as they cleared the forest edge. They had moved to keep better watch on the three humans. Three more joined them.

“Hagrid!” called the Headmaster, attracting his attention.

“Reinforcements have arrived! Over.”

“Perfesser!” cried Hagrid, heading in their direction, still flanked by the Guard ponies. “What’s goin’ on?” he said looking down at the ponies as more poured from the forest and spread out across the lawn. The din was phenomenal as orders were shouted, hooves thundered, and ponies ran and flew everywhere.

“Medevacing unicorn to Headquarters . . . now!” There came the sound of bells.

“Hagrid, what happened in the forest?” the Headmaster asked.

“Huh?” said Hagrid switching his attention to the Headmaster. “Oh!” He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Well, we had jus’ met Ronan when Harry an’ Ron run off back the way we came. A’fore I followed ’em, I asked him if he knew what had been happenin’ to the unicorns.” He frowned. “All ’e said were, ‘Mars is bright tonight,’ an’ then he said, ‘Always the innocent are the first victims.’” He shook his head in mild disgust. “No ’elp, no ’elp at all. Not interested in anythin’ closer then the Moon.”

“Medevacing Corporal Clever to Headquarters . . . now!” came a new voice over the Sergeant’s crystal. It cut off in mid-bell-ring.

“Then, I decided ter head back ter find Harry an’ Ron. Hadn’t gone far when I run into a pony. Almost stepped right on him.” He looked around at the hustling activity that was beginning to slow as the ponies settled into their defensive positions. “He asked ‘which way to the centaur,’ an’ I pointed him down the trail we was followin’ an’ off he went. Then I run inter these fellows and they followed me back here.” He frowned, looking around again. “Makin’ quite a mess, ain’t they?”

“Still no hostiles in sight. Squad ninety-two securing clearing and policing area for tracks. Over,” came another voice over the crystal.

The ponies coming from the forest had dropped to a mere trickle. Harry could see golden helmets, poking out of holes in the lawn, going in both directions between the castle and forest. And squads of pegasi and night ponies patrolled the sky, wheeling in vast circles over the well-lit surroundings of the castle.

“Tracks and traces found, squads one-one-three and eight-seven following. Over.”

It was actually all quite exciting — as long as he didn’t think about the magic-eating centaur lurking out in the forest.

The Headmaster sighed and motioned to his mum. Harry followed. Draco and Pansy began drifting in his direction.

“I fear,” the Headmaster said quietly to Twilight, “That the one who seeks the . . . ,” he paused and looked at her meaningfully, “object is getting desperate.”

The professors exchanged alarmed looks.

Twilight’s eyes narrowed in thought and one eyebrow arched. “The unicorn?”

He sighed. “It is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn in our world,” he said gravely. “Only someone desperate — someone who thinks they have nothing to lose — will commit such a crime. A unicorn’s blood will save you, true, even if you are at death’s door. But there is a terrible cost. A punishment for killing something pure and defenceless, just to save yourself.” He shook his head sadly. “You will have a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.” He stroked his beard, still shaking his head.

Twilight frowned and shook her head. “Yes, I did read about that, I had hoped it was but an old-mare’s tale. Many of your books have contradictory facts and tales in them. It is hard to believe such a thing is possible,” she said sadly, shaking her head. “In our world, a unicorn is a pony. We bleed the same as anypony else.” She sighed. “But your books say that here, that is not true,”

“But who’d be that desperate?” Harry wondered aloud. “If you’re going to be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?”

The adults all looked down at him in surprise. With so many ponies running around, and him being so small, they had forgotten he was the cause of the excitement.

Before anyone could say anything, a Guard-pony trotted up and saluted. “Excuse me, Princess Sparkle, but we’ve captured a centaur. As per standing orders, we gave him the chance to surrender at first encounter. He did. Would you like to see the prisoner, now?”

Twilight startled, “You did? Yes, of course.”

“Bring forward the prisoner,” barked the pony, stepping back and looking into the forest.

“Prisoner?” said the Headmaster, and lifted his eyebrows inquiringly. Professor Snape rolled his eyes, but kept his gaze on the forest. Professor McGonagall looked horrified, with her left hand on her chest. Professor Flitwick just frowned.

“Prisoner?” echoed Hagrid, “ ’Ere now! There’s no call for that!” He stood straighter and clenched his fists.

The Guards surrounding the half-giant stiffened, and a few more weapons were shifted to point in his direction.

A palomino centaur with long blond hair stepped out of the forest into view. He was surrounded by nine ponies. Four of them were flying pegasi. All were keeping well out of arm and kicking range. He had blue eyes, and had his bow slung over his shoulder beside a quiver of arrows.

Several nearby guards shifted position to bring their weapons to bear onto the centaur.

“Firenze,” said Hagrid, stepping towards the centaur. Hagrid’s escort split between watching the two students and the half-giant. “Sorry ’bout this,” he said apologetically, and swung his arms to indicate everything around them. “It’s a mistake, yeh know.”

“Firenze,” said the Headmaster, half-bowing. “It is delightful to see you. I hope everything is satisfactory with yourself and your tribe?” He ignored the numerous ponies turning and pointing those strange tube-things at the centaur. They were crouched and braced as if to attack.

Hagrid deferred to the Headmaster and moved back a step.

“It is, indeed, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore,” the centaur said, nodding his head in greeting. He studied the ponies scattered across the lawn. Most of the activity had died down. Some Guards looked back at him, but the remainder watched the forest intently. As he and the others watched, the gold armour of the settled ponies shimmered and took on the aspects of the ground around them, as did the ponies’ coats and manes. Harry could only see them because he knew what to look for and exactly where to look.

All of the ones on the ground were behind odd-looking equipment laying on the berm of the holes they had dug. Equipment that Harry recognized from war movies on the telly as machine guns and mortars.

In a few moments, it became very difficult to tell the difference between the ponies, or their equipment, and the holes and berms themselves.

There were still squads of pegasi patrolling the edges of the forest and the castle perimeter. The rest were perched on Hogwarts’ roof, staring down from behind hastily built sand-bag-type barriers. They had machine-gun and mortar emplacements beside them, as well. They, too, began to shimmer and disappear as the Guards settled into watchful positions.

They were especially difficult to see with the bright lights below them.

Harry could see the Equestrian army was making good use of the expansion and feather-weight charms. Now that he looked, he could see the sergeant and closer Guards had wand holsters on their forelegs.

Harry wondered if anyone besides the ponies knew what those things that the Guards were pony-handling into final positions were capable of doing.

Nothing was going to slip into the Castle unnoticed. And if it was belligerent and refused to listen to reason? Well, it would not like the results!

And none of the ones watching the centaur had friendly expressions.

The centaur looked back at the Headmaster. “I don’t believe I have ever heard of such intelligent ponies, pegasi, or unicorns. Are they friends of yours?” he asked politely

The Headmaster chuckled softly. “I like to think so, Firenze.”

Twilight looked over to him. “Is . . . Firenze a friend of yours?”

“I like to think so, Princess,” Dumbledore said. “He is one of my contacts with the Black Woods Clan here in the Forbidden Forest. They have lived here for a thousand years. The headmasters at Hogwarts have never had cause to complain.”

The nearby sergeant jolted. “There are more of them?” She nudged the crystal with a wing and started issuing instructions. She walked away from them to keep her conversation private. A dozen ponies, a mix of pegasi and night-ponies, launched themselves from the castle and struck out over the forest.

The humans and Firenze watched, startled.

Harry was impressed. The British soldiers must have been drilling the EUP quite hard. They had been competent before, as he had seen. But this much preparation and organization? So quickly?

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, may I introduce Firenze, of the Black Woods Clan?” Headmaster Dumbledore was the first to recover. “Firenze, it is my pleasure to introduce Princess Twilight Sparkle, of the nation Equestria.”

She hesitated a moment, then transformed into her alicorn form. She beat her wings to raise herself to look the surprised centaur in the eyes. “Hello, Firenze, It is nice to meet you. I apologize for the rudeness of my Guards and this situation, but our experiences with centaurs in my home world have not been pleasant or equanimous. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“No harm was done, no honour was lost,” he said, bowing his head.

“The Equestrians are ponies,” Dumbledore swept an arm to indicate the lawn around them, “as you can see.”

Firenze looked at him blankly for a moment.

“Being a human is their . . . animagi form when they visit us, you might say.”

At hearing the Headmaster’s proclamation, Draco and Pansy exchanged glances. They were almost beside Harry, who was still a pony, but had kept several steps away. They were Slytherins, after all. And while they were used to seeing the Gryffindor ponies running around, the quantity on the Castle lawn was intimidating, to say the least.

“You are beasts?” he asked looking back at Twilight.

Harry bristled and took a step closer, “No,” he said, “we’re ponies! Beasts can’t talk.”

The adults again looked down at Harry. As did Draco and Pansy at his audacity to interrupt an adult conversation. And give away that they were listening to something they probably shouldn’t hear. They rolled their eyes. Not that he cared.

His mum sighed and frowned at him. He blushed, stepped back, and pretended interest in a nearby foxhole with machine gun. The Guards in it took him several moments to discern. They looked very amused, and smirked when they saw that he had finally pierced their illusions.

Harry transformed back to wizard.

“I must ask,” she said after a moment, “if you know of a skill, spell, or artefact to steal a pony’s magic?”

۸-_-۸

Author's Note

Re: hiding in plain sight: Mouse/cat https://youtu.be/vlpuC-MKBrQ

Also, McGonagall treats Harry, here, after getting caught out after getting the dragon to Charlie, the same as she did in canon, with the same justification based on past behaviour. Harry was not a trouble-maker in canon, or here. Except for detentions with Snape for nonsensical reasons. Her actions in canon are ridiculously exaggerated in this scene in canon. If you think I was being unreasonable, then so was J.K.R.