Harry Potter and the Harmony Kingdom: A Remake

“So, first you roast them in a pan, then you blend them with onions and peppers, right?” Pinkie asked, diligently jotting notes in a little booklet, her tongue sticking out in concentration.

Harry nodded, his lips curling into an amused smile. Watching the young mare so focused on learning warmed his heart.

Cooking was one of Harry’s favorite pastimes. Some might think his years with the Dursleys would have ruined it for him, but he saw it differently. Creating a delicious meal—whether for himself or someone else—felt like a triumphant way to stick it to that family of bigots.

Applejack hummed thoughtfully, resting her chin on a callus hand.

“You know,” she began, “Ah reckon one o’ my cousins—Cacao, if Ah remember right—might’ve made somethin’ like this once... though it’s been a while.”

Harry’s curiosity sparked. Applejack’s family seemed to have roots everywhere.

“You have mentioned a lot of relatives before,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Is your family like a clan or something?”

The farmer let out a hearty laugh.

“Ha! You’re not wrong, sugarcube. The Apples are mighty numerous. Shoot, we’re scattered all over this kingdom! It’d be easier to tell ya where we ain’t than where we are.”

“Whoa! Total opposite of mine!” Pinkie piped up, grinning ear to ear.

“We Pies are pretty big too, but we’re all clustered together. Tight-knit rock farmers! We only live off what we can produce ourselves. Totally reject anything from the outside Wordly world or Equestrian influence!” She said this with such pride, her smile as wide as ever.

Harry and Applejack exchanged a look, blinking in unison. Finally, Applejack broke the silence.

“... Pinkie, are y’all Amish?”

“Yep!” Pinkie chirped without missing a beat.

“Huh,” Applejack replied, tipping her hat back slightly as she processed this.

Harry stifled a chuckle.

“So, why exactly did you go and rip the princess a new one, Harry?” Applejack asked, as blunt and direct as ever.

Harry froze mid-motion, his body stiffening. He exhaled slowly, trying to maintain his composure… and then slammed his forehead onto the table. Hard.

(Well done, Potter.), sneered a familiar voice in his mind. (Once again, you’ve managed to land yourself on a royal bad list. Truly a talent.)

“Ohhh, I get it! It was because you didn’t have your glasses, wasn’t it?” Pinkie chimed in cheerfully.

Harry let out a long, muffled groan against the table.

“How do I know that? Well, silly, that would be telling!” Pinkie added with a mischievous smile, as though she’d just cracked the biggest mystery in Equestria.

Harry groaned again, louder this time.

“… Wait. How did you know my mom used glasses, too?” Pinkie suddenly asked, her jaw dropping in shock.

Harry barely lifted his head, just enough to reveal his sharp emerald eyes glinting with a mix of weariness and triumph, before dropping his forehead back onto the table with a soft thud.

Applejack, meanwhile, leaned back in her chair, tipping her hat slightly as a grin crept onto her face. She silently committed the moment to memory. It wasn’t every day somepony managed to outplay Pinkie Pie at her own game.

They chatted a little longer before Harry leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“So… how are you two holding up? After that, well… all that.”

Applejack’s face darkened, and she removed her hat, holding it solemnly against her chest.

Pinkie, however, slowly wrapped her forearms around herself. Her normally bright and bouncy demeanor faded as her expression grew pale, haunted.

The memories of their battle against Nightmare Moon in the decrepit old castle were still raw, still vivid.

“I’m holdin’ up fine,” Applejack said after a moment, though her voice wavered slightly. “Just a few nightmares here and there, but that’s all. I knew what I was gettin’ into… knew the risks. But…” She trailed off, shaking her head as she let out a deep, weary sigh, her grip tightening on her hat. “We went up against a god. How can anypony not be scared clean outta their boots just thinkin’ about it?”

Pinkie looked utterly defeated, her usually puffy mane seeming to droop slightly. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“... L-Laughter wasn’t the answer…” she stammered, trembling. Her vibrant energy seemed to drain away entirely, leaving behind a shadow of her usual self.

The air grew heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and lingering doubts. That was when the rest of the mares approached the table, their presence breaking the tension.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” The blue one called out, immediately taking note of the somber mood. “What’s with the long faces? What did you do, old man?” she added, pointing an accusatory finger at Harry and leaning uncomfortably close to his face.

Before she could press further, a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks.

“Dash, don’t jump to conclusions,” The yellow one said softly, her voice calm yet resolute.

Dash grumbled but backed off, crossing her forearms with a huff.

[To be continued]