Harry Potter and the Harmony Kingdom: A Remake

by Cubot

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Princess Luna, Harry Potter, Mystery, Science Fiction, Profanity, Violence, Princess Celestia, Crossover, Death, Human, Twilight Sparkle, Anthro
Length: 21588

New land, New magicks, New rules. All is changed, except for one thing. People need help in this long night and Harry Potter Master of Death will heed the call, such is the cursed and will of the Boy that lived, such is the doom of a hero.

Twilight Sparkle stared at the hooded figure, a shiver racing down her spine. Her lips moved before her mind could catch up.

"R-run! You can't win against her!"

Nightmare Moon's eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with disdain.

"Who art thou to stand before a GOD?"

The hooded figure chuckled, emerald eyes gleaming from the shadows beneath the hood.

"For you, so-called god, I am the blade that will cut you down. And for you, young lass," he glanced briefly at Twilight, his tone softening, "I’m just a fool with a knack for saving people."

The dark goddess's pupils turned to slits, her anger palpable. The air grew heavy as an icy chill descended upon the room.

Twilight’s breath misted in front of her, her shivers uncontrollable.

"You!" Nightmare Moon roared, her voice reverberating with power. "For such insolence, We shall ensure your suffering spans eternity! Speak thy name, blasphemer, so it may serve as a warning to those who dare defy their Empress!"

The figure, unshaken, let out another low chuckle.

"Lady, that's not the first time I've heard a line like that." He stepped forward, his weapons gleaming in the dim light. "The name’s Harry. Harry James Potter. Now, let’s skip the theatrics and get to the dance, shall we?"

Without another word, he charged, sword and dagger in hand.

Published 2025-01-01 06:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2025-02-08 03:59:59 UTC

Chapter 0.5.1

"Once upon a time," began an ancient and powerful voice, resonating like a melody of ages past. "In the magical land of Equestria, two regal sisters ruled in harmony, creating balance for all who dwelled in their kingdom. The eldest wielded her unicorn magic to raise the sun at dawn, while the younger brought forth the moon to light the night. Together, they maintained harmony for their realm and its diverse inhabitants—earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns alike."

The soft rustle of ancient pages echoed through the empty library, illuminated only by the flickering glow of a single candle.

"But as time went on, the younger sister grew resentful. The ponies reveled and played in the daylight her elder sister provided, but shunned and slept through her beautiful night. One fateful day, the younger sister refused to lower the moon, defying the dawn itself. The elder sister pleaded with her, but the bitterness festering in the young one's heart transformed her into a wicked mare of darkness: Nightmare Moon."

Lightning cracked across the storm-laden sky, the sound rattling the library’s windows as rain lashed against the glass.

"She vowed to shroud the world in eternal night. With great sorrow, the elder sister turned to the most powerful magic known to ponydom: the Elements of Harmony. Through their immense power, she banished her sister to the moon, sealing her away for eternity. From that day forward, the elder sister took upon herself the responsibility of raising both..."

The voice softened, becoming warm and maternal. "...the sun and the moon."

A pause hung in the air, broken only by the sound of gentle snores. Two small figures, nestled together, slept peacefully, their purple forms entwined.

The storyteller chuckled softly, closing the heavy tome and placing it on a nearby nightstand. She bent over the sleeping pair, adjusting their blankets with care.

She hesitated briefly, then pressed a tender kiss on each of their foreheads. "Sweet dreams, my little ones," she murmured, extinguishing the candle with a graceful wave of her hand before slipping silently out of the room.

Minutes passed in stillness, but then the window burst open with a violent gust, the wind howling as if it carried a warning. The room remained undisturbed—save for the book.

Its pages began to flutter, stirred by an unseen force. Moonlight pierced through the storm clouds for a fleeting moment, casting an eerie glow upon the tome. The light danced across the text as the pages settled, revealing a single weathered paragraph.

"...and as the old wizard looked up, he asked wearily, 'Who are you?' The Pale Wanderer smiled, it was kind. 'I am Death.'"

A final flash of lightning illuminated the room before darkness reclaimed it, leaving only the faint whisper of the wind to carry the tale onward.

[Intro song]

[Backup singer]

My Little Pony, My Little Pony
Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahhh...

[Twilight Sparkle]

(My Little Pony)
I used to wonder what friendship could be
(My Little Pony)
Until you all shared its magic with me

[Rainbow Dash]

Big adventure

[Pinkie Pie]

Tons of fun

[Rarity]

A beautiful heart

[Applejack]

Faithful and strong

[Fluttershy]

Sharing kindness

[Twilight Sparkle]

It's an easy feat
And magic makes it all complete

You have my little ponies
Do you know you're all my very best friends~~?

[Intro song stops]

[???]

Just make good to remember that
Even in your next grand adventure.

Twilight groaned in exasperation, her left eye twitching.

(These mares are crazy!) she thought, resisting the urge to scream. Instead of preparing for evacuation, fortifying the town, or even just praying, they were arguing over who would accompany her into the forest.

No logic, no reason, no proper arguments—just a chaotic debate she hadn’t even been part of until they dragged her in.

And the pink one was treating it all like some kind of sports commentary.

“Aaaaarrrghhh!” Twilight mentally screamed again. This day was already shaping up to be a disaster.

It had all started this morning, when she accidentally uncovered evidence that an ancient evil, sealed away for millennia, was about to break free today. Naturally, she’d done the responsible thing and sent a warning to her mentor, Princess Celestia.

Her response? A polite version of “I’m too busy—go touch grass and do me a favor.”

Normally, Twilight wouldn’t have minded. This was Princess Celestia, her teacher, mentor, and literal goddess. Doing her a favor was an honor.

But that favor was to supervise the Summer Sun Celebration in some backwater town called Pony Village.

Of course, she’d accepted. She had to.

At first, things seemed manageable. She started with the Apple family, a clan of earth pony farmers responsible for the catering. She met all sixteen of them to confirm the food preparations were on track.

(Apple Fritter, Apple Bumpkin, Red Gala, Red Delicious, Golden Delicious, Caramel Apple, Apple Strudel, Apple Tart, Baked Apples, Apple Brioche, Apple Cinnamon Crisp, Big McIntosh, Apple Bloom, Granny Smith, and Applejack. Yes, I remember ALL their names. Stupid selective eidetic memory.)

At least the pie was delicious.

Next, she encountered Rainbow Dash, an irreverent pegasus with a name as on-the-nose as her literal rainbow-colored hair. Their meeting consisted of Rainbow crashing into her, leaving Twilight with a mild concussion and ruining her clothes and hair.

On the bright side, Twilight managed to trick her into doing her actual job: clearing the sky of clouds. Better late than never.

Decorations came next. A fashionable unicorn named Rarity had taken charge and was doing a spectacular job, albeit while constantly praising herself.

“Yes, Rarity, you’re doing a beautiful job, uhum!”

Twilight had thought this task would be quick, but the moment Rarity noticed her disheveled state, she was whisked away to a boutique. Twilight emerged with cleaner clothes, repaired hair, and a fresh outfit better suited for Pony Village’s dusty streets.

She might have stayed to thank her, but Rarity kept insisting she model increasingly extravagant outfits. Twilight had to sneak out before things spiraled further.

The music preparations, handled by a mare named Fluttershy, were a rare moment of peace. She was training a choir of birds, their harmony already beautiful despite being unfinished.

Twilight, frazzled and eager to move on, startled the birds with an abrupt introduction, likely setting their progress back to zero.

Fluttershy, however, was gracious. After a brief and awkward exchange, something unexpected happened—Fluttershy recognized Spike’s species.

“An Amethyst Dragon,” she’d said in awe.

That was huge. Even Canterlot’s libraries had nothing on Amethyst Dragons, and Twilight would know—she’d read every book there. Twice.

The three of them had an engaging discussion, Twilight genuinely enjoying the conversation. Fluttershy, though shy, was remarkably intelligent and empathetic.

For a brief moment, Twilight began to relax.

Then the party happened.

“Surprise!” a chorus of voices shouted. Somewhere in the chaos, a kazoo blared enthusiastically.

Twilight stood motionless, her expression stoic, though her left eye betrayed her with an irritated twitch.

“Surprise!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, leaning uncomfortably close to Twilight’s face and blowing a party whistle right at her.

The twitching in Twilight’s eye intensified.

“Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie, and I threw this party just for you! Were you surprised? Huh? Were ya? Were ya? Huh, huh, huh?” Pinkie chirped, her grin practically glowing as she invaded Twilight’s personal space.

Twilight’s hackles rose, her frustration barely contained. Spike, utterly distracted by Rarity, failed to notice the mounting storm beside him.

After a few deep breaths, Twilight managed to respond in a clipped, strained tone.

“Yes. I am. Very surprised. But. Libraries are supposed to be. Quiet.”

Pinkie waved her concern off with a laugh. “Oh, that’s just silly! What kind of welcome party would it be if it were quiet? I mean, duh, bo-ring! You see, I saw you when you first got here, remember? You were all ‘hello,’ and I was all”—she gasped dramatically—“remember? I’ve never seen you before, and if I’ve never seen you before, that means you’re new! And if you’re new, you haven’t met anyone yet! And if you haven’t met anyone yet, you must not have any friends! And if you don’t have any friends…”

Twilight’s eye twitched dangerously as Pinkie’s voice droned on. Her patience stretched thinner with every word, especially as she caught sight of some foals playing hot potato with a pair of delicate, ancient tomes near the lit fireplace.

“…and that made me so sad! But then I had an idea! That’s why I went”—she gasped again—“‘I must throw a ginormous, super-duper spectacular welcome party and invite everypony in Ponyville!’ And now you have lots and lots of friends!” Pinkie finished, beaming with uncontainable joy.

That was the final straw.

“…Get out,” Twilight murmured, her voice low, trembling with suppressed rage.

“Hmm?” Pinkie tilted her head, cupping a hand to her ear. “What was that, Twily?”

“Get. Out.” Twilight’s tone turned sharp, like a blade drawn from its sheath.

The room’s temperature began to rise. Spike, sipping his punch, froze mid-drink.

Applejack glanced at Twilight, concern written all over her face. “You okay there, sugarcube?” she asked, fanning herself with her hat.

“What’s biting you, Fluttershy?!” Rainbow Dash shouted, her usual bravado cracking as she noticed her foalhood friend trembling violently.

“Pardon me, darling,” Rarity interjected, fanning herself delicately. “Did you say something?”

Twilight’s teeth ground audibly. She inhaled sharply before she spoke again, her words enunciated with venom.

“I. Said. Get… Out.”

For a fleeting moment, the room fell silent. Pinkie stared, dumbfounded, before giggling nervously.

“Oh, you’re such a silly filly, Twily! No one can—”

Pinkie reached out to place a hand on Twilight’s shoulder, but before she could finish, Twilight grabbed her wrist with a vice-like grip. Pinkie’s laugh turned into a jumbled cry of pain and confusion.

“I. Said…” Twilight growled, her voice dropping an octave. Her eyes glowed with a predatory purple light as the fireplace roared behind her. “GET.”

The air grew suffocating, the atmosphere heavy with something primal and terrifying. Even Rainbow Dash hesitated, her confidence crumbling under the weight of Twilight’s unrelenting glare.

“EVERYBODY GET OUT, GET OUT NOW!” Spike suddenly barked, his tone cutting through the tension like a whip. Those who could sense the danger didn’t need to be told twice—they bolted for the door.

But Twilight wasn’t finished.

“THE BUCK OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT!” she roared, her voice reverberating through the walls as she spun and hurled Pinkie Pie straight out the window.

The glass shattered, and Pinkie disappeared into the night, her usual boundless energy silenced for once.

The room fell deathly quiet.

Twilight remained in her place, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling with each labored inhale. Slowly, her head turned, her piercing purple eyes glimmering with a fury that promised pain—searing, unrelenting pain—to anyone who dared disobey her command.

The room was deathly silent, save for the faint crackling of the roaring fire. One by one, the remaining ponies hurried for the exit, their hoofsteps a frantic scramble against the hardwood floor.

0.5.2

Twilight was grumbling, practically stomping her way through the library as she examined and devoured book after book, tossing them carelessly onto piles scattered everywhere.

“No... useless... no... why is this even here? No... someone’s getting the rope... no, no, NO!” Her frustration boiled over, and with a sharp cry of anger, she punched the wall. The force rattled the bookshelves, the windows trembling in their frames.

“Ugh! I thought I’d have time to research the Elements of Harmony, but nooooo, silly me! All this ridiculous friend-making nonsense has kept me from it!” She slammed another book shut, nearly splitting the spine. Her voice dropped into a muttering growl as she quoted, “Legend has it that on the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape, and she will bring about everlasting night.”

Twilight paused for a brief second, her voice softening with unease. “I hope the Princess was right... I hope it really is just an old pony tale...”

Despite her doubts, the unicorn didn’t slow down, tearing through tomes and scrolls at a pace that would make a Wonderbolt dizzy.

Meanwhile, Spike heaved a heavy sigh as he worked to put the scattered books back in their places, his small arms struggling with the growing chaos. His eyes flicked toward the window, noticing the moon hanging high in the sky.

“Twilight,” he called, but she didn’t so much as glance his way.

“Twilight!” Still, she ignored him, her focus entirely consumed by the sea of text.

Spike’s patience snapped. “TWILIGHT SPARKLE!” he roared, his voice carrying an authority that finally broke through her concentration.

“WHAT?!” she bellowed back, her fiery glare locking onto him.

Unfazed, Spike shot back with equal force. “IT’S MIDNIGHT! THE CELEBRATION IS ABOUT TO START!”

“What?! WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING SOONER?!” Twilight screeched, her panic evident as she bolted for the door, practically dragging Spike along in her wake.

“…I don’t like her.” Rainbow Dash crossed her arms, her magenta eyes narrowing as she watched the so-called Twilight Sparkle scurry around like a headless chicken, frantically checking and rechecking everything in sight.

“I don’t enjoy gossiping about anypony,” Rarity said with a prim frown, arms folded elegantly across her chest. “But for someone hailing from the capital, her attitude is positively revolting. So crude and un-ladylike.”

Applejack, leaning lazily against a lamppost, simply shrugged. “Eh, I don’t blame her none. She seems the jumpy type—like a rabbit caught in a coyote’s den. ‘Sides, Ponyville ain’t exactly the calmest place this time o’ year, what with the festival and all. Things are bound to get a mite tense.”

Fluttershy nodded quietly, her brows furrowed in concern as her gaze followed Twilight’s frenetic movements. Her hands were clasped nervously in front of her.

Rarity tilted her head toward the yellow mare, noticing her unusually pensive demeanor. “Something on your mind, dear?”

Fluttershy hesitated, pursing her lips thoughtfully before finally speaking. “She just… seems really stressed.”

Rainbow Dash groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Yeah, well, maybe focus on the real issue—like the fact that she just YEETED PINKIE OUT A BUCKING WINDOW!”

Applejack took a slow sip of her cider, shrugging again. “Eh, you’d be lyin’ if you said you ain’t thought about doin’ it yourself at least once.” She smirked, her tone casual. “Plus she a earth pony we can take worse and Honestly? It was kinda cathartic.”

The group paused for a moment, exchanging sheepish glances before nodding in reluctant agreement.

As if summoned, Pinkie Pie appeared, bouncing into view with her usual exuberance.

“Isn’t this exciting? Are you excited? ‘Cause I’m excited! I’ve never been so excited—well, except for that one time I saw somepony new in town and went gasp! But I mean really, who can top that?”

The others forced smiles of varying sincerity.

“Y-yes, dear, absolutely,” Rarity replied smoothly. “Actually, why don’t you come with me for a moment? I think you’ve still got a bit of glass in your mane.”

“Oh, good idea!” Pinkie chirped, still beaming. “And maybe while we’re at it, we could—” Her voice trailed off as she followed Rarity to a quieter corner, chatting incessantly all the while.

Applejack watched them go before turning to the others. “How old is Pinks again?”

Rainbow Dash groaned. “Old enough to know better than to talk like that.”

Fluttershy’s voice was soft not really giving her full attention, but her words carried unexpected sass. “Says the one who reads the E+ version of Daring Doo.”

Rainbow Dash froze mid-grumble.

Applejack, mid-sip of her cider, performed a spectacular spit take before doubling over in laughter, her hearty cackles echoing through the night.

“Fillies and gentlecolts, as mayor of Ponyville,” Mayor Mare began, “it is my great pleasure to announce the beginning of the Summer Sun Celebration!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, the air thick with anticipation. Few ponies ever had the privilege of seeing their princess in the flesh, and tonight was a rare and treasured event.

The town hall was packed to the brim, its interior dimly lit to enhance the brilliance of the forthcoming sunrise.

“In just a few moments, our town will witness the magic of the sunrise and celebrate this, the longest day of the year!”

Twilight Sparkle stood among the crowd, her stomach twisting with unease. Her eyes drifted to the iridescent moon, glowing serenely in the night sky.

As her gaze lingered, the familiar silhouette of the Mare in the Moon vanished before her eyes.

Her heart plummeted.

“And now,” Mayor Mare continued, her voice brimming with pride, “it is my great honor to introduce to you the ruler of our land, the very pony who gives us the sun and moon each and every day, the good, the wise, the bringer of harmony to all of Equestria…”

A golden banner unfurled, revealing a radiant white silhouette.

“Ready?” Fluttershy whispered to her flock of birds. They chirped their readiness, making her giggle softly.

Twilight, meanwhile, was biting her nails, anxiety mounting. Spike placed a reassuring claw on her leg, grounding her.

“…Princess Celestia!”

The curtains parted, revealing a warm light that spilled into the hall. A regal figure stepped forward, illuminated by the glow.

The birds began their melody.

As the figure approached the podium, everypony in the room dropped to one knee, heads bowed and wings tucked respectfully.

A melodic giggle filled the hall, soft yet commanding. “Please, my little ponies, rise. Today is a joyous day.”

The ponies obeyed, their eyes widening in awe as they beheld their goddess. Taller, grander, and more beautiful than any mortal, she exuded an otherworldly presence. Her mere existence captivated them.

The birds fell silent.

“For today is a day to celebrate…” Celestia’s voice rang with harmony, her eyes warm and kind.

Spike tugged on Twilight’s sleeve, his urgency growing.

“T-Twilight…” he whispered.

“For today marks the beginning of a new millennium…” Celestia’s arms spread wide as though to embrace the entire hall.

“A-Angel?” Fluttershy asked nervously, noticing her bunny glaring daggers at the princess.

Spike’s pulling became frantic. “Twilight!!”

“Not now, Spike,” she muttered, her admiration for her mentor clouding her judgment.

(Maybe I was just paranoid. The princess wouldn’t put us in any kind of danger... right?) Twilight thought as her mentor’s eyes met hers, momentarily reigniting a flicker of doubt.

Celestia chuckled softly.

“Remember this day, my little ponies, for it will be the last of this era! This will be the last time the sun is remembered!”

“Huh?” Rarity whispered in confusion, mirroring the sentiment of the room.

“For tonight will…”

The birds scattered in fright as Celestia’s warm purple eyes morphed into slitted, predatory green ones.

“…be…”

Angel snarled, and Fluttershy barely managed to restrain him before he lunged.

“Twilight… i-is t-that…?” Spike stammered, trembling in terror.

“Yes, Spike.” Twilight’s voice was unsettlingly calm in her panic. “She is.”

“ETERNAL!” Celestia’s once-pristine face twisted into a maniacal grin as a whirlwind of darkness enveloped her.

The sound of unhinged laughter echoed throughout the hall.

Rainbow Dash grabbed Twilight by the collar, her magenta eyes blazing. “What the hay is going on? Who is she, and what did she do to the princess?!”

“She’s an ancient legend,” Twilight began, her voice shaking. “A goddess of the night, the moon, and the stars. Banished for a millennium. She’s only remembered as a foal’s tale… but she’s real. She’s the Mare in the Moon. Princess Celestia’s sister…”

The dark whirlwind subsided, revealing a figure both regal and terrifying.

Her mane shimmered like the night sky, her coat as dark as obsidian. Armor of a metallic blue adorned her form, and her sharp fangs and claws gleamed like a predator’s.

The goddess let out another laugh as storm clouds gathered, the moonlight spilling eerily through the windows.

“…She’s Nightmare Moon.”

A crack of thunder illuminated her sinister grin.

[To be continued…]

0.5.3

Harry grumbled as he swatted at yet another bug, its irritating whine buzzing in his ear before he flicked it away.

As usual, his cursed "Potter luck" had outdone itself. He was lost—utterly, hopelessly lost—in a forest that felt as though it belonged to another world entirely.

Still, he supposed he should count his blessings, such as they were. No one was supposed to survive crossing the Veil of Death—except, apparently, someone who had already cheated death before.

So, hooray for convoluted magical resurrections, phoenix tail feathers, and the ever-reliable Potter knack for narrowly escaping demise.

The betrayal that had sent him through the Veil still stung. He really should’ve expected Crabbe and Goyle’s attack—it was practically scripted, considering their track record for idiocy and violence. But Harry had let his bleeding heart rule his head once again.

Their plan to take him down with them had backfired spectacularly. The Veil had consumed the two muscle-bound morons in an instant. Harry, though? The so-called Master of Death? He’d stepped out the other side, alive but disoriented.

And now, here he was.

"Bloody brilliant," he muttered, glaring into the oppressive shadows of the forest.

The ancient woods were alive with magic, raw and untamed. The air thrummed with it, thick as molasses, while the dense canopy above choked off the starlight, leaving only a pale, silvery moon to pierce the gloom. Shadows seemed to shift and breathe, like unseen creatures waiting just beyond his vision.

It was the kind of place where most people would be paralyzed with fear. But Harry? After years of fighting dark wizards, battling magical beasts, and enduring a childhood with the Dursleys, this was just another absurd challenge.

That didn’t make it any less frustrating.

He wiped sweat from his brow and gritted his teeth, stomach growling angrily. Nightmares had ruined his appetite that morning, and now he was paying for it. Thirst, at least, wasn’t an issue; Bill Weasley’s enhanced Aguamenti spell conjured drinkable water with ease.

But as another bug landed squarely on his glasses, his patience snapped.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF MORGAN’S SAGGY TITS DO YOU WANT?!” he bellowed into the night, swiping furiously at the offending insect.

The forest fell deathly silent. For a heartbeat, even the usual nocturnal chorus of chirping and rustling ceased.

Then, a cluster of fireflies appeared, their light flickering in an unmistakable SOS pattern.

Harry blinked at them, dumbfounded.

“Of course,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “Because why wouldn’t the bloody bugs need saving too?”

Despite his grumbling, he followed the glowing trail, pulling up the hood of his cloak as he jogged deeper into the forest.

“Me and my saving people problem,” he muttered.

The path was treacherous. Thick roots twisted like skeletal fingers across the ground, waiting to trip him up. Wisps of mist coiled around his ankles, and more than once, he felt the pulse of illusionary magic trying to disorient him. But the basilisk venom in his blood burned through the tricks, and the fireflies’ glowing beacons kept him on track.

Finally, the trees parted, revealing a sight that stopped him in his tracks.

Before him loomed a sprawling, crumbling castle, its silhouette bathed in eerie moonlight. Towers jutted skyward like jagged teeth, many of them broken and leaning precariously. Vines and moss crept over the ancient stone walls, their once-pristine surfaces now cracked and weathered by centuries of neglect.

The place was massive, grander than anything Harry had seen outside of Hogwarts. But while Hogwarts exuded warmth and life, this castle felt… empty.

No lights flickered in its windows. No sounds of life echoed from its halls. Yet, despite its abandonment, the air around it pulsed with power. The magic here was old—perhaps older than Hogwarts itself—and it clung to the structure like an invisible shroud.

Still, something about it felt… wrong.

Harry’s sharp eyes scanned the area, and his gaze settled on the ground. Distinct hoofprints marked the soil, but these weren’t ordinary tracks.

“...Hoofprints?” he murmured, crouching to inspect them. “No… unicorn, pegasus, thestral… and common horse. But the pattern—bipedal?”

He frowned, trying to piece together the odd arrangement. It didn’t make sense.

“No, it doesn’t matter. Focus, Potter,” he muttered, straightening.

The castle loomed ahead, its shadow swallowing him whole as he stepped closer. His wand hand itched, but he resisted the urge to summon it. Instead, he let his instincts guide him, his senses hyper-focused.

His eyes caught movement—a faint shimmer, a hint of light vanishing into one of the hallways.

“There,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Without hesitation, he broke into a sprint, disappearing into the darkness of the ancient castle.

It didn’t take long before Harry felt it—the magic.

It was dark, oppressive, and thick with malice, like a suffocating blanket of hatred. Yet, as he pressed forward, there was something else woven into it, something that gave him pause. Beneath the layers of raw fury and malevolence lay a faint but undeniable thread of…

Remorse?

Harry froze mid-step, every sense on high alert. His hand moved instinctively to his satchel, retrieving the Cloak of Death with practiced ease. Draping it over himself, he vanished from sight, his footsteps now as silent as the shadows that cloaked him.

Alright, Potter, he thought, creeping closer. You’ve been through worse. Probably. Maybe. Actually… no, this feels entirely new.

The weathered stone columns of the ancient castle offered him cover as he approached the source of the magical clash. He peeked around one of them, his emerald eyes scanning the chamber beyond, and what he saw made him stop dead.

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again.

And again.

(Bloody pastel-colored horse people?! What in Tartarus?!)

The absurdity of the scene nearly broke his concentration, but the situation was far from funny. There were six of them—six strange, vividly colored beings in various states of peril.

In the center of the chamber, a battle raged. A lavender-colored unicorn, her horn aglow with fierce magical energy, was locked in a duel with a shadowy figure. The creature loomed tall and menacing, wrapped in an aura of malice that seemed to warp the air around it.

The lavender unicorn’s attacks were sharp and precise, but her desperation was palpable. Her adversary, on the other hand, deflected her strikes with an almost lazy elegance, as though toying with her.

And then it laughed.

The sound echoed through the cavernous room, a high-pitched, mocking cackle that sent a chill crawling down Harry’s spine. It was far too familiar, like a haunting echo of Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Well, that’s subtle,” Harry muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because the one maniacally laughing is never the villain.”

His eyes darted back to the unicorn, whose magic flared brighter with each desperate attack. But something about the battle didn’t sit right. Harry could feel the regret radiating from the clash, as if the malice and fury weren’t entirely hers—or entirely her choice.

Focus, he told himself firmly, forcing his attention to the rest of the room. There are lives to save. You can untangle the magical morality mess later.

His gaze fell first on the yellow one. She was pinned beneath a pile of rubble and ancient armor, her pastel pink mane tangled and disheveled. Though unconscious, Harry caught sight of a peculiar scene: ants and other small insects were working together to free her. The precision of their movements was uncanny, but Harry had long since stopped questioning bizarre magical phenomena.

Next, he spotted the orange one. She slumped against a collapsed wall, her body battered and bleeding. The brim of her hat was crumpled beneath her, and deep cuts marred her coat. Blood pooled around her hooves, but her chest rose and fell faintly.

A faint drip drew his attention upward.

Harry clenched his jaw as his eyes landed on the rainbow-maned one. She hung from the ceiling, bound by ancient ropes that radiated dark magic. Her body was mangled, her vibrant feathers torn and bloodied. One wing was bent at an impossible angle, bone protruding through the flesh, while the other… the other was gone.

His stomach twisted.

No. Not gone—severed.

The sight filled him with a wave of anger so fierce it nearly drowned his rationality.

He scanned the rest quickly. The pink one was bound and blindfolded, her body trembling violently. Though she seemed unharmed, her distress was palpable, her equine ears flicking in panic. The white one lay crumpled on the floor, bruises forming hand-shaped marks around her neck. Her elegant mane was coated in dust, but she seemed merely unconscious.

Harry’s fists tightened as he surveyed the scene.

This isn’t a fight. It’s a massacre.

He turned back to the duel at the center. The shadowy figure was taunting the unicorn now, drawing out the battle for its own sick amusement.

Harry’s instincts screamed at him to act, but he forced himself to prioritize. The rainbow-maned one was in the worst shape, but freeing her first would risk alerting the shadowy figure. The orange one—the farmer—was his safest bet for a first rescue.

Taking a deep breath, he adjusted the Cloak of Death and slipped into the shadows. His mind churned with spells and strategies as he moved, silent and deliberate.

There was no room for hesitation.

The Master of Death was on the move.

0.5.4

Twilight ducked just in time as another magical projectile shot past her, narrowly missing her horn. She gasped for breath, her heart racing. I need to think, she told herself. I need a plan. I need to keep everyone alive, I—

A chilling laugh echoed through the room.

"Oh little pony, why do you hide?~ Because she is coming tonight~."

Nightmare Moon’s voice echoed, a twisted mockery of a lullaby and her own legend. The words sent a shiver of fear through Twilight’s bones as the dark goddess raised her hand.

With a casual flick, shadowy constructs of timberwolves sprang to life, their glowing eyes glaring hungrily at the unicorn. Twilight barely had time to react before the beasts lunged. She punched the ground with all her remaining strength, releasing a shockwave of magic that shattered the timberwolves into fragments. The effort left her dry heaving, her magic reserves drained, and her body aching from exhaustion.

Nightmare Moon’s laughter rang out again, cruel and mocking.

"Oh little pony, why do you cry?~ Because I’ve been bad, so She will take me astray~."

For the first time in the entire fight, Nightmare Moon's hooves touched the ground, each step slow and deliberate, carrying a weight of inevitability. The dread Twilight felt grew heavier with every step the dark goddess took, each one bringing her closer.

She reached the trembling purple unicorn, and the air seemed to thicken with despair.

"Oh my little pony, for whom do you fear~?..."

Nightmare Moon’s voice dropped to a whisper as she stopped right in front of Twilight, who had collapsed to her knees, unable to move. The goddess barely nudged her, and the impact sent Twilight crumpling to the floor, completely drained.

Nightmare Moon’s smile twisted into something both maternal and horrifying. She cradled Twilight’s head gently, as if about to kiss her on the forehead, but the intent behind it was anything but tender.

"Her name is Nightmare Moon, and my soul she will take... tonight~," the goddess sang, her voice thick with hunger.

Twilight felt a tear slip down her cheek, her body shaking with fear, her eyes fluttering closed as she resigned herself to the inevitable.

Then, just as Nightmare Moon’s mouth opened wide, ready to feast on the unicorn’s magic, the sound of something striking flesh shattered the moment.

That something was the sound of a boot punting someone in the jaw.

Then the whistle of a sword cutting air, a metallic clunk, an angry hiss, a grunt of effort, a wingbeat and then nothing.

Author's Note

Bunus note:

Stand User: Harry James Potter

Stand Name: Wanderer (The Wanderer - DION)

Attributes

Power: D

Speed: A

Range: A

Durability: A

Precision: D

Potential: D

Stand Description

Wanderer is an always-active, formless Stand that manifests as an intangible influence over the user's life, particularly through the manipulation of probability and causality. Unlike most Stands, it does not have a physical appearance but exerts its power subtly and pervasively.

Abilities

Luck Amplification
At its core, Wanderer functions as a "luck stat" enhancer, elevating the user's fortune to extraordinary levels when in critical situations or in unconscious need. Whether it's narrowly escaping danger, succeeding in games of chance like poker or roulette, or achieving improbable outcomes, the Stand ensures the odds tilt heavily in the user's favor.

Causality Weaving
Beyond sheer luck, Wanderer influences the flow of causality itself. It ensures the user becomes a focal point in events of significance, often placing them at the heart of situations that could alter the course of destiny. This ability manifests as an almost supernatural magnetism toward pivotal moments, be it global crises, personal confrontations, or major shifts in the lives of others.

Drawbacks

Unintended Consequences
While Wanderer grants incredible luck, it is a double-edged sword. The Stand’s interference frequently results in the user appearing in the wrong place at the wrong time, often escalating conflicts or creating complications. This propensity to "wander" into trouble ensures that while the user may triumph, the path to victory is fraught with chaos and unintended fallout.

Limited Precision and Power
The Stand’s lack of precision means it cannot be used to control specific outcomes directly. Its effects are general and unpredictable, making it unsuitable for deliberate or fine-tuned manipulation of events.

0.5.5

When Twilight Sparkle woke up she found herself staring at the hooded figure, a shiver racing down her spine. Her lips moved before her mind could catch up.

"R-run! You can't win against her!"

Nightmare Moon's eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with disdain.

"Who art thou to stand before a GOD?"

The hooded figure chuckled, emerald eyes gleaming from the shadows beneath the hood.

"For you, so-called god, I am the blade that will cut you down. And for you, young lass," he glanced briefly at Twilight, his tone softening, "I’m just a fool with a knack for saving people."

(Lass! Name is Harry! If you can hear me I got your mates in a safe place outside this room! Call for help. I keep it distracted!)

The unicorns eyes winded, but prepared herself.

The dark goddess's pupils turned to slits, her anger palpable. The air grew heavy as an icy chill descended upon the room.

Twilight’s breath misted in front of her, her shivers uncontrollable.

"You!" Nightmare Moon roared, her voice reverberating with power. "For such insolence, We shall ensure your suffering spans eternity! Speak thy name, blasphemer, so it may serve as a warning to those who dare defy their Empress!"

The figure, unshaken, let out another low chuckle.

"Lady, that's not the first time I've heard a line like that." He stepped forward, his weapons gleaming in the dim light. "The name’s Harry. Harry James Potter. Now, let’s skip the theatrics and get to the dance, shall we?"

Without another word, he charged, sword and dagger in hand.

The room erupted into chaos as Harry lunged forward, his sword arcing in a silver blur toward Nightmare Moon. The dark goddess sneered, her horn flaring with an ethereal blue light. A crackling barrier of magic sprang into existence, intercepting the blow with a resounding clang that sent shockwaves through the air.

"Foolish mortal," she hissed, the ground trembling with her rage. "Thy toys are meaningless against divine might!"

But Harry was already moving. The moment his blade rebounded, he twisted into a spin, his dagger slicing toward her exposed flank. Nightmare Moon’s form shimmered, dissipating into a wisp of dark mist as the strike passed harmlessly through her. She reappeared behind him, her eyes burning with malice.

Harry barely had time to react before a blast of magic seared toward him. He dove to the side, the beam scorching the floor where he had stood mere moments ago. Rolling to his feet, he flung his dagger with pinpoint accuracy. The blade spun end over end, its enchanted edge glowing faintly as it hurtled toward its target.

Nightmare Moon caught it mid-air with her magic, holding it aloft like a trophy. Her laughter was cold and cruel as she crushed the weapon, a magical construct, into shards with a flick of her horn.

"Is that the best thou can muster?" she taunted, her voice echoing like thunder.

Harry gritted his teeth, his mind racing. He knew he couldn’t overpower her—not directly. But he didn’t need to win; he just had to keep her occupied.

With a flick of his wrist, he drew a small vial from his belt and hurled it at her feet. The glass shattered, releasing a burst of dense, shimmering smoke that filled the chamber. The magical fog swirled and clung to Nightmare Moon, disrupting her vision.

"Childish tricks!" she bellowed, her horn flaring brighter as she unleashed a pulse of energy that cleared the smoke in an instant. But Harry was no longer where he had been.

From above, he struck. Using the room’s architecture, he had vaulted onto a high ledge and leaped down, his sword aimed for her horn. The blade struck true, but instead of cleaving through, it rebounded with a deafening clang as Nightmare Moon’s barrier flared once more.

She snarled, a burst of kinetic force exploding outward and sending Harry hurtling across the room. He slammed into a pillar, the impact knocking the wind out of him. Gasping, he scrambled to his feet, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"You fight valiantly," Nightmare Moon said, her tone almost mocking. "But thy defiance is futile."

"Yeah, well," Harry rasped, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand, "futility's kind of my specialty."

He rushed her again, his movements a blur of feints and strikes. Each time, Nightmare Moon deflected or dodged, her power far outstripping his. Yet for every attack she parried, every spell she cast, precious moments ticked by.

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest as he narrowly avoided another deadly blast. The heat of the magic singed his cloak, but he pressed on, rolling under the beam and retaliating with a slash aimed at her legs. Nightmare Moon leaped back with inhuman grace, her laughter ringing out once more.

"Thou art persistent, mortal. But persistence alone shall not save thee."

Harry’s muscles burned, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel his strength waning, but he refused to falter. With every attack, he forced her to expend energy, to divert her focus.

"Lass!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Now’s the time! Go!"

Twilight hesitated for a heartbeat, torn between her instinct to flee and her desire to help. But Harry’s eyes met hers, fierce and unyielding.

"Run!" he barked, dodging another blast.

Finally, Twilight turned and bolted, her hooves pounding against the stone floor as she disappeared into the corridor beyond.

Nightmare Moon’s gaze snapped toward the fleeing unicorn, her expression darkening. "Thou shalt not escape!"

But Harry was there, slamming his blade against her barrier with all his might. The impact didn’t break the shield, but it forced her to turn her attention back to him.

"Eyes on me, Moonface," he taunted, his grin defiant despite the exhaustion etched across his face. "I’m not done with you yet."

The room trembled as Nightmare Moon roared, her power swelling to new heights. Harry braced himself, knowing the next moments would push him to his absolute limit. But as long as he could keep her here, keep her attention on him, he’d consider it a victory.

Twilight’s hooves echoed loudly against the stone floor as she galloped down the corridor, her breath hitching in panicked gasps. The chilling sound of Nightmare Moon’s roars reverberated through the castle, but she forced herself not to look back. Harry was buying her time, and she couldn’t waste it. Her horn glowed faintly, providing a dim light in the darkened halls as she searched for her friends.

Her mind raced as guilt clawed at her. They should’ve been victorious. The Elements of Harmony were their one chance to stop Nightmare Moon, and they had failed. Was it her fault? Had she misunderstood the ancient texts? Or worse, had she been the weak link in their group? She shook her head, trying to suppress the spiraling thoughts.

"Focus, Twilight," she muttered to herself. "Find the others. Make sure they’re safe."

She skidded to a halt as she entered the grand hall where they had been ambushed. Her heart sank at the sight before her. The aftermath of the battle was evident: shattered furniture, scorch marks on the walls, and her friends lying broken and battered across the room.

Twilight rushed to the closest figure—Rarity. The usually pristine and composed fashionista was crumpled on the floor, her face pale, and bruises in the shape of hands darkened her throat. Twilight knelt beside her, shaking her shoulder gently.

"Rarity! Wake up!" she pleaded, her voice trembling.

Rarity’s eyelids fluttered, and she let out a weak, raspy cough. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Twilight… I… couldn’t… breathe…"

Tears welled in Twilight’s eyes. "It’s okay. You’re safe now. Just try to rest."

Next was Applejack, slumped against a crumbled section of the wall. Her arms and face were battered, her clothes torn and bloodied. Twilight winced as she saw the swelling on Applejack’s knuckles—a testament to her desperate fight. Twilight pressed her fingers gently against Applejack’s neck, relieved to find a pulse.

"Come on, AJ," Twilight whispered, her horn glowing as she used basic healing spells to stabilize her friend. "You’re the strongest of us. You can get through this."

Applejack groaned, her eyes fluttering open for a moment. She mumbled something unintelligible before slipping back into unconsciousness. Twilight swallowed hard, moving to the next friend.

Pinky Pie was huddled in the corner, trembling violently. She was unhurt, but her wide, tear-filled eyes stared at nothing, and her body jerked with every faint sound from the hallway.

"Pinky," Twilight said softly, kneeling beside her. She placed a hand on her shoulder, but Pinky flinched violently.

"Don’t… don’t let her get me…" Pinky whispered, her voice breaking. "I can’t… I can’t…"

Twilight hugged her tightly, stroking her hair. "It’s okay, Pinky. She won’t hurt you anymore. I promise."

Twilight hesitated before pulling away. She didn’t want to leave Pinky like this, but the others needed her.

Her breath caught in her throat as she reached Rainbow Dash. The pegasus’s once-proud wings were a heartbreaking sight. One was twisted at an unnatural angle, and the other… was gone. Blood had dried where the wing should have been, staining Rainbow’s torn shirt. Cuts and bruises covered her face and body, and her breathing was shallow and labored. Twilight’s hands trembled as she gently touched Rainbow’s shoulder.

"Rainbow," she said softly, tears streaming down her face. "Please… Please, stay with me."

Rainbow’s eyes flickered open, and she grimaced. "T-Twilight?" she croaked. "The others… Are they… okay?"

Twilight nodded quickly, her voice cracking. "They’re alive. You’re all alive. But we need to get out of here."

Rainbow let out a weak chuckle that turned into a wince. "Guess… I didn’t… stick the landing… huh?"

"Don’t talk," Twilight said, forcing a shaky smile. "Save your strength."

Finally, Twilight found Fluttershy. The timid healer was crumpled near a fallen pillar, her head resting against the cold stone. Twilight’s heart sank as she saw the gash on her temple and the faint swelling that hinted at a concussion.

"Fluttershy," she whispered, using her magic to gently scan for further injuries. She sighed in relief when she found no signs of internal bleeding. Fluttershy didn’t stir, but her chest rose and fell steadily.

Twilight worked frantically, using what little magic she had left to stabilize her friends. Once she had done all she could, she sat back on her heels, staring at the broken forms of the ponies who had trusted her.

I failed them, she thought bitterly, her head sinking into her hands. The Elements didn’t work because of me. I wasn’t strong enough, or smart enough, to figure it out. Now an innocent pony is risking his life because I couldn’t stop her.

She stood, her legs shaking. Her horn sparked weakly as she conjured a makeshift stretcher for Rainbow Dash. She would need help carrying the others, but for now, she could manage.

As she began to move her friends, her thoughts turned to the fortunate appearing stranger, to Harry.

Please… hang on. Just a little longer.

Harry rolled across the stone floor, narrowly dodging another devastating blast of magic. The heat of Nightmare Moon's attack singed his cloak, but he refused to falter. He lunged forward, his sword flashing in a tight arc toward her chest. The blade struck her barrier again, rebounding violently with a crackle of energy.

Nightmare Moon laughed, her voice cold and echoing in the dark chamber. “Thou art naught but a nuisance, mortal. Thy strength wanes, thy hope fades. Surrender now, and We may yet grant thee a swift end.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” Harry said, panting heavily as he adjusted his stance, “but surrender’s never really been my cup of tea.”

Her eyes narrowed, her horn sparking with unrestrained power. “Then thou shalt perish in thy defiance.”

She unleashed another torrent of magic, the raw energy ripping through the air with enough force to shake the entire room. Harry dove behind a shattered pillar, the blast reducing it to rubble around him. He gritted his teeth, clutching his sword tightly. His arms ached, his lungs burned, but he forced himself to stand. He wasn’t going to stop now.

As Harry rose, battered but unbowed, a faint hum began to fill the air. It was subtle at first, just a gentle vibration that seemed to echo within his chest. Neither he nor Nightmare Moon noticed it immediately, too focused on their deadly dance. But as Harry’s resolve burned brighter with every defiant strike and every sharp-witted quip, the hum grew stronger.

"You fight for naught!" Nightmare Moon roared, frustration creeping into her voice. "Thou canst not save thyself, let alone those weaklings thou sought to protect! Thou art alone!"

Harry smirked, his emerald eyes gleaming with unyielding determination. “Alone? That’s rich, comin’ from the likes of you. But here’s the thing—I’ve faced worse odds, and I’m still standin’. You lot always think bein’ untouchable makes you special. Hate to break it to you, but power’s nothin’ without purpose.”

The hum grew louder, resonating through the room. Harry staggered slightly, his sword vibrating in his grip. A soft, golden glow began to seep from the shattered pillars and broken floor tiles, filling the space with an otherworldly light.

“What sorcery is this?” Nightmare Moon demanded, her voice tinged with unease.

Harry didn’t answer. He was too focused on the warmth that began to course through him, dulling his pain, steadying his breathing, and clearing his mind. It wasn’t magic—not like hers, at least. It felt… deeper. Familiar, like an echo of something he’d always known.

As the glow surrounded him, Harry’s memories flooded back—moments of standing firm against impossible odds, not for himself, but for the people who needed him. He saw his friends, his battles, the times he’d thrown himself into danger because no one else could or would.

“It’s not about power,” Harry said, his voice steady as he met Nightmare Moon’s glare. “It’s not about bein’ a god, or bein’ invincible, or scarin’ people into submission. It’s about protectin’ the ones who can’t protect themselves. It’s about standin’ up, even when it hurts, even when you think you’ve got nothin’ left. That’s strength.”

The glow intensified, pulsing with every word. Nightmare Moon stepped back, her confidence faltering as the Elements of Harmony, still dormant, began to react to Harry’s unshakable conviction.

Harry’s mind raced. He didn’t know where the strange power came from, but it wasn’t enough to defeat her outright. He needed a plan—a desperate, insane plan. His thoughts turned to the faint scars on his forearm, reminders of his encounter with the basilisk.

Basilisk venom… It’s still in me. My blood could work. If she’s invulnerable to magic, maybe this anti-magic is exactly what I need.

"You talk a lot about bein’ untouchable," Harry said, his tone turning almost conversational as he sheathed his sword, drawing her attention. "But I reckon you’ve never met someone like me."

Her eyes narrowed, her horn sparking with energy. “What art thou scheming, mortal?”

Harry smirked, stepping closer. “Oh, you’ll see, love.”

He moved fast, closing the gap between them before she could react. Nightmare Moon raised her hand to strike, but Harry’s speed caught her off guard. He grabbed her wrist with one hand and her jaw with the other, forcing her to look directly into his emerald eyes.

“Let’s see how untouchable you really are,” he said with a cheeky grin, and before she could pull away, he leaned in and kissed her.

Nightmare Moon’s eyes widened in shock as Harry’s lips pressed against hers. His blood, tainted with basilisk venom, slipped past her lips, forced into her mouth by the kiss. She jerked back violently, coughing and choking, her hands clawing at her throat.

“What… What hast thou done to Us?!” she screamed, her voice breaking with panic as her body convulsed.

Harry stumbled back, wiping his mouth as he watched the venom take effect. “Basilisk venom,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Anti-magic. Guess even gods have their limits.”

Nightmare Moon staggered, her power faltering as the venom coursed through her, disrupting her magic. Her aura flickered, cracks forming along her barrier. Harry could feel the resonance from the golden glow growing stronger, the Elements reacting to her weakened state.

He collapsed to his knees, exhaustion finally catching up to him. His vision blurred, but he forced himself to stay conscious. The Elements’ power was building, and he had done his part. Now, all he could do was hope that whoever this strange magic was meant for would finish what he had started.

“Right,” he muttered under his breath, smirking faintly despite the pain. “Your move, magick.”

The glow became blinding.

Author's Note

Bonus idea:

Stand User: Lyra Heartstrings

Stand Name: Roll Fallout! (Roll Out the Fallout! - The Chalk Eaters)

Attributes

Power: C

Speed: B

Range: B

Durability: C

Precision: C

Potential: A

Stand Description

Roll Fallout! takes the form of a bipedal, humanoid figure clad in futuristic yet weathered and dilapidated armor reminiscent of a post-apocalyptic warrior. Its design features intricate details of wear and tear—rusted metal, dented plates, and faded insignias—hinting at untapped power lying dormant within.

Abilities

"Punchy Ghost" Functionality
In its current state, Roll Fallout! functions as a classic close-combat Stand, capable of delivering rapid and powerful punches at mid-range. However, this straightforward offensive capability appears secondary to its true, as-yet-unrealized potential.

Dormant Potential
The Stand’s rusty, incomplete appearance suggests that it has yet to awaken fully. While its exact abilities remain largely unknown, the A rank in Potential implies that Lyra has only scratched the surface of what Roll Fallout! is capable of. Further development or specific conditions may unlock transformative powers, potentially altering its role from a simple combat Stand to something far greater.

Connection to "Heaven"
Lyra’s awakening of the Stand is tied to a mysterious book she read about "Heaven." This connection hints at a deeper narrative or purpose behind the Stand, possibly linked to existential themes or a grander cosmic force. This element remains shrouded in mystery but suggests a thematic focus on resilience and survival in a decayed or challenging world.

Drawbacks

Incomplete State
As Roll Fallout! has not fully awakened, its current abilities are limited and lack refinement. The rusty armor may also serve as a metaphorical shield, indicating an internal struggle or untapped reservoir of strength within the user.

Undefined Specialization
Unlike other Stands that exhibit clear, specialized abilities, Roll Fallout! is currently defined by its general combat prowess. Until its full potential is unlocked, its role in battles or broader events may be unpredictable or less impactful compared to fully realized Stands.

0.5.6

The void pulsed with the rhythm of her thoughts, each beat an agonizing cycle that coursed through her body like a slow-burning fire. Luna's mind was trapped in fog, suffocated by cold, unseen chains that bit into her essence. She couldn’t remember who she was, only fragments of betrayal, shame, and pain swirling in the haze.

She existed—bound, tormented, waiting. For what? A memory flickered, then faded. The void whispered her name, but it felt like an echo of someone else. And then...

“Well, if this isn’t bloody familiar,” a voice broke through the oppressive silence.

thoughts faltered. This was no whisper of the void. It was warm, alive. She blinked through the haze, finding the source: a tall figure, his ragged clothes and wild hair out of place against the bleakness. He exuded an aura of resilience, his sharp green eyes glowing like embers in the dark.

“You’re... not the void,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Too right, I’m not,” the man replied with a smirk. “Name’s Harry. Don’t ask how I got here; I’ve no bloody clue. But this place? It's awful, isn’t it?” He studied the chains binding her. “You look like you’ve been stuck here a while.”

Luna hesitated, struggling to form words. “I... don’t know who I am.”

“That’s alright, love. Happens to the best of us,” Harry said, crouching to examine the chains. “Now, these? Ugly things. Let’s see what we can do.”

As his hand neared the chains, the void vibrated, resisting him, but Harry didn’t back down. “Bloody stubborn, aren’t they?” he muttered. “Don’t worry, Luna. We’ll figure it out. You’re not staying here forever.”

The sound of shattering filled the air. Light pierced through the void, blinding and overwhelming. Harry shielded his eyes as the darkness dissolved around them.

Harry gasped, jolting awake. The ground was solid beneath him again, the oppressive weight of the void replaced by the cool stone floor of the ancient castle. The shattered remains of the Elements of Harmony pulsed in the air, glowing brightly. He could barely move, every muscle aching, but the faint sound of hooves drew his attention.

The door creaked open, and Twilight Sparkle entered the room alone, her horn glowing faintly. She froze at the sight of Harry, battered and sprawled on the ground.

“You’re... alive,” she murmured, rushing to his side. “Hold still. You’re hurt.”

Harry groaned, attempting to sit up. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “Just... tired.”

Twilight ignored him, her magic already working to stabilize his wounds. “You’re lucky to be alive. The Elements—” She stopped, glancing at the radiant gemstones hovering nearby. “They activated, but they’re not enough alone. We.. I need to finish this.”

“Finish what?” Harry asked, wincing as he moved.

“The nightmare.” Twilight’s gaze turned to the crumbled remains of Nightmare Moon’s power at the room’s center. “I’ll return for you. Just... rest.”

“No.” Harry grabbed her hoof weakly. “It’s not just her. There’s someone else. She’s... trapped. Luna. She needs help. Use my blood.”

Twilight paused, her expression softening. “Princess Luna?” she asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Just... don’t leave her behind.”

Twilight’s horn flared, and Harry drifted into unconsciousness as her magic soothed his injuries. “I promise,” she whispered.

Twilight paced the shattered chamber, her hooves clicking against the cold stone floor. The remnants of the Elements of Harmony lay scattered, their once-glorious light dimmed, as though mocking her failure. Nearby, Nightmare Moon lay in a crumpled heap, breathing shallowly, her dark form flickering like a dying flame.

And then there was him—the green-eyed stranger, unconscious but alive, his presence as much a mystery as his origin. Twilight’s gaze darted to him, to the cloth torn from his tattered shirt, and then to the faint smear of blood it bore.

Her heart pounded as she considered the unthinkable. “The Elements didn’t work,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “Maybe I used them wrong... maybe...”

Her magic flared instinctively, lifting the fractured gemstones into the air. She willed them to respond, to reignite, to deliver the harmony that was supposed to banish the darkness. But the shards remained inert, their light extinguished.

“No,” she said, her voice firmer now. “They can still work. They have to. Friendship, harmony—it’s what Equestria is built on.”

But her resolve wavered as she glanced at Nightmare Moon again. The alicorn’s eyes flickered open for a moment, gleaming with defiance despite her weakened state.

The memory then came rushing back: the way the darkness in the void had recoiled, the way the air had shifted when the stranger’s blood had spilled.

Her stomach turned. “No,” she muttered, shaking her head. “That’s... dark magic. Or something worse. I can’t... I shouldn’t...”

But the Elements had failed.

Twilight swallowed hard, her throat dry. “What if this is the only way?” she asked herself. “What if I don’t do this, and she wins? What happens to Equestria then? To my friends? To... everypony?”

The weight of the question pressed down on her. Her friends were counting on her. Princess Celestia was counting on her. She looked at the unconscious stranger again, his green eyes closed, his face slack with exhaustion. There was something unsettling about him, something that didn’t belong in this world—but there was also something powerful.

She approached him cautiously, her hand trembling as she picked up a bloodied scrap of cloth. The dark implications clawed at her mind, but she pushed them aside, her gaze narrowing as she turned toward Nightmare Moon.

The fallen alicorn stirred weakly, her eyes widening when she saw what Twilight held.

“No,” Nightmare Moon rasped, her voice barely audible but sharp with panic. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Put that down.”

Twilight froze. “You’re... afraid of this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nightmare Moon’s eyes darted to the cloth, her expression twisting into a mix of fear and fury. “You don’t understand,” she hissed. “That blood... it’s not meant for—”

“Save it,” Twilight snapped, her tone uncharacteristically harsh. “I don’t have time for your games. You don’t get to play the victim now.”

The alicorn’s expression darkened. “If you use that, you’ll regret it. You’ll curse yourself and everything you hold dear. Is that what you want?”

Twilight hesitated, her heart hammering in her chest. But then she thought of her friends, their faith in her. Of Princess Celestia, her mentor, who had trusted her to save Equestria. Of every pony who would suffer if she failed.

Her jaw clenched. “You don’t scare me,” she said, her voice trembling with determination.

Nightmare Moon tried to recoil as Twilight approached, but her weakened body betrayed her. “Don’t!” she snarled, her voice cracking. “You don’t know what that will do!”

“I don’t care,” Twilight said, her voice breaking. “I don’t care what it does to me. Equestria comes first.”

Without another word, she pressed the bloodied cloth to Nightmare Moon’s lips, forcing her to drink. The alicorn thrashed weakly, but she was too weak to resist. Her eyes burned with hatred—and fear—before the blood touched her tongue.

The reaction was immediate. Nightmare Moon’s body convulsed, her form flickering violently as though caught in a storm. The darkness around her seemed to writhe, screaming in protest. Twilight staggered back, her breath caught in her throat as the room filled with a blinding, otherworldly light.

Nightmare Moon’s screams echoed through the chamber, and for a moment, Twilight thought she had made a terrible mistake. But then the light intensified, and the darkness began to peel away, layer by layer, revealing something beneath.

Or someone.

Twilight shielded her eyes as the last remnants of the darkness were burned away. When the light finally faded, Princess Luna lay before her, trembling and small, her wide eyes filled with tears.

Twilight collapsed to her knees, her chest heaving. “It worked,” she whispered, barely able to believe it. “It actually worked.”

But as her gaze flicked back to the unconscious stranger, unease coiled in her stomach. Whatever his blood had done, it wasn’t natural.

It wasn’t over.

Author's Note

Bonus Idea:

Stand User: Rarity Belle

Stand Name: Party 1920! (Party Like It’s 1920 - The Swing Hoppers & Wolfgang Lohr)

Attributes

Power: D

Speed: A

Range (Offensive): D

Range (Autonomy): B

Durability: C

Precision: A

Potential: B

Stand Description

Party 1920! is a refined and graceful Stand that takes the form of a cat-like figure adorned in a pseudo-tuxedo, embodying sophistication and dexterity. Its abilities center on the manipulation and enhancement of textiles, blending utility, creativity, and combat effectiveness. The Stand exudes a personality of its own, acting as a polite and resourceful assistant with semi-autonomous behavior.

Abilities

Textile Manipulation
The Stand's primary offensive ability lies in controlling fabrics with precision and skill. It can animate threads, cloth, and other textiles for binding opponents, setting traps, or creating defensive barriers. Its claws, though not exceptionally powerful, serve as effective tools for close-range attacks when necessary.

Wardrobe Enchantment
Party 1920! specializes in imbuing clothing with unique properties, turning garments into works of art with practical or magical enhancements. This can include:

Strengthening fabrics to make them blade-resistant or bulletproof.

Adding magical properties, such as boosting spells or providing elemental resistance.

Cosmetic enhancements like glowing in the dark or shifting colors.

Adapting outfits for specific purposes, from high-fashion designs to functional combat wear.

These enhancements cater to the user’s needs, allowing Rarity to create both functional and glamorous attire. 3. Semi-Autonomy
Unlike many Stands, Party 1920! has a measure of independence. It exhibits the demeanor of a courteous gentleman, often engaging in tasks without direct commands. This includes mending torn fabrics, repairing rugs, fixing blinds, or even styling hair. Its autonomy makes it an invaluable partner in both Rarity’s boutique and everyday life.

Medick.

When Harry woke up in pain, he found himself in a holding cell.

Nothing new, if he were honest.

His wrists were cuffed, and heavy chains secured him to the wall. Around his neck, a strange circular disk attempted to suppress his magic. The artifact was adorned with sharp metal spikes that forced him to hold his head upright. A few drops of his blood had already stained the device, the venom on the spikes designed to debilitate further resistance. However, if the faint, tingling sensation of his magic slowly returning was any indication, it wasn’t working as intended.

"Bloody morons," Harry muttered under his breath, his irritation overshadowing his discomfort. He straightened slightly at the sound of a heavy metal door creaking open.

A figure stepped into view—a pony in golden armor, resembling a cross between a Spartan warrior and an ancient Greek hoplite. The silence stretched as the guard’s piercing gaze met Harry’s weary one.

Finally, the guard spoke, his voice booming in the echoing chamber. "So, you’re finally awake."

Harry squinted in the general direction of the voice, his glasses confiscated and Merlin-knows-where. "Incredible powers of observation, sir guard," he deadpanned.

The guard ignored the sarcasm, his tone crisp and authoritative. "You are currently detained in the capital of the Kingdom of Equestria, Canterlot, for the crime of using blood magic and encouraging others to engage in that forbidden practice."

Ah, that. Harry barely stifled a groan. He hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but it was probably that purple unicorn he’d advised. She must have used his blood to complete the ritual and free Luna from captivity.

(Wait... Luna?) Harry paused mid-thought. He didn’t recall hearing that name—he was sure, thanks to his Occlumency training. So how did he know it now?

(Maybe some of her memories transferred while we were in her mindspace? Could be,) he mused.

Before he could delve deeper, the guard’s voice cut through his thoughts. "For reasons beyond my comprehension, Princess Celestia Helios Equestria—our holy, grand, and eternal ruler—has expressed a desire to meet you. You will be escorted to the throne room shortly. Any attempt to escape or act of defiance will be met with force. Is that clear?"

Harry sighed inwardly. (Wonderful. Another self-important royal with a legion of fanatical devotees who thinks herself godlike. Just another Thursday for you, Potter.)

Outwardly, he replied with a smirk. "Crystal."

Harry quickly realized teasing the guard had been a poor choice. The "accidental" bumps into walls, statues, ornamental suits of armor, guards in actual armor, and doorframes became all too frequent. What should have been a straightforward 15-minute escort turned into a painful, humiliating gauntlet.

The collar digging into his neck didn’t help matters. Each jarring collision made the spikes bite deeper into his skin, leaving a trail of droplets on the polished floors and even some walls.

He’d also lost count of how many times he’d bowed to a white blur in his vision, assuming it was the Princess, only to realize it was a statue—or worse, a cleaning pony. The giggles of nearby staff did little for his dignity.

At last, they arrived before an ornate double door and entered what Harry guessed was the throne room. The space had an air of importance, with light streaming through what seemed to be a stained glass mural. Gold accents gleamed everywhere, reflecting a calm, icy blue hue from the walls.

No purple, though. He noted that absence absently.

They stopped at the center of the room, standing on what he assumed was a circular symbol. A sun motif, no doubt, given the "Helios" part of the Princess’s name.

After a beat of silence, Harry spoke. "So, where’s her highness?"

"She’s not here yet, as you can’t see," the guard replied.

"Oh, brilliant. So, when does she plan on gracing us with her presence?"

"When she pleases."

"Really? She calls for me and doesn’t even have the courtesy to show up?"

"Clearly, she has more pressing matters if she’s not here yet."

"Obviously."

"Obviously," the guard confirmed, his tone dry.

More silence followed.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well, as you kindly pointed out earlier, I can’t see. That’s because I don’t have my glasses. Care to explain why they were taken and whether I might get them back?"

"Your glasses, along with your cloak, sword, vials, and potions, were confiscated and are currently being examined by our magics and curses department."

"...They do know my glasses only have maintenance charms, waterproofing, and a not-fall-off enchantment, right?"

"They’ll determine that for themselves," the guard replied, a hint of a smirk in his voice.

Harry huffed, bemused. He couldn’t see the guard’s face clearly, but he could feel the satisfaction radiating from him.

Another pause.

"You’re aware I’m bleeding on her carpet right now, right?"

The guard’s tone turned amused. "Do you normally babble this much?"

"Only when I’m nervous and hungry," Harry admitted with a shrug.

It was true, Harry hadn't eating anything since yesterday morning and his stomach was protesting vehemently.

The guard huffed, this time in a good-natured way, before lapsing into silence again.

The unmistakable creak of doors opening echoed through the throne room. Harry didn’t need to see to know something important was happening. The guard, however, ensured he didn’t miss the cue, firmly guiding—and more accurately forcing—him to kneel.

What followed was a steady rhythm of approaching footsteps—or hoofsteps, Harry corrected himself. Oddly, they sounded more like high heels striking marble. The sharp, deliberate clicks were accompanied by smaller, lighter steps, creating an oddly synchronized cadence.

A chorus of gasps rippled through the room, followed by a flurry of hushed whispers. Harry, ever curious, tilted his head slightly and breathed in deeply.

The air was thick with sweetness—cloyingly so. His senses reeled, and he nearly gagged at the overwhelming saccharine scent.

Unable to resist, he blurted, "To the one who just ate a quadruple-layer devil’s cake, how in the name of magic are you still alive?!"

Celestia was a being that most would consider ancient—if they were feeling polite.

Having lived through the nomadic era of her species, the Wendigo invasions, the wars and unification of the three tribes of ponies, the creation, foundation, and expansion of her once kingless kingdom, the Tirek catastrophe, the Umbra War, the Nightmare Moon rebellion, and countless other events both triumphant and tragic, she believed she had seen everything the universe could throw her way.

As it often did, the universe took great pleasure in proving her wrong.

The princess froze mid-step, a blush creeping across her pristine white coat at being so brazenly called out.

(How does he know?!) screeched the immortal voice in her mind.

She could have dismissed the comment—Faust above knew she had heard, said, and done worse in her time. But the sheer amazement, genuine astonishment, and even concern radiating from the man kneeling before her threw her off balance.

It didn’t help that her precious student, Twilight Sparkle, was looking at her with the kind of disappointment usually reserved for overdue magic reports. Meanwhile, her more valiant friends struggled to stifle their laughter—though some failed miserably.

Celestia cleared her throat, regaining her composure, and continued walking to her throne. "I’m afraid that’s nothing for you to concern yourself with," she began, her voice as smooth and regal as ever. She had just reached her seat when the man interrupted.

"NOT my concern?!" Harry’s voice was incredulous, his emerald eyes blazing with righteous indignation. "Well excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me, Princess, but if you checked my wallet, you’d see I’m a healer! A medic! Things like this are my concern!"

Celestia’s regal poise faltered as the man launched into a full-blown tirade about proper nutrition and the catastrophic effects of excessive sugar consumption.

Her majestic shoulders slumped slightly as she took her seat. She knew, in her many centuries of experience, that no rank, title, or divine status could shield her from the wrath of a dedicated medic on a health crusade.

Twilight and Fluttershy, the kind-hearted , nodded solemnly at each of Harry’s points, their disappointed glances somehow more cutting than any blade.

Rainbow Dash and Applejack were laughing openly now, clutching each other for support as they leaned against a column to keep from collapsing to the floor.

Rarity, ever composed, murmured, "Oh dear," while placing a thoughtful hand under her chin, content to observe the unfolding spectacle.

Meanwhile, Pinkie Pie—resident baker extraordinaire—was turning an alarming shade of green. The more Harry ranted about the perils of sugar, the more her vibrant pink hue seemed to drain away.

"I think… I’ll cut back on sugar for a bit," Pinkie mumbled weakly, her tone so uncharacteristically subdued that it bordered on surreal.

Harry finally finished, breathing heavily as though he’d just completed a triathlon. "…And that’s why you should use honey, not sugar!"

Silence blanketed the throne room.

Celestia, still processing the whirlwind that had just occurred, raised a hand with regal grace—though her voice betrayed her exasperation. "Free him… and feed him. Anyone who shows that level of—ahem—passion about the health of others cannot possibly be corrupted by dark magic. Twilight, my faithful student, see to it."

The guard, who had wisely stayed silent throughout the entire debacle, stepped forward and gently unlocked Harry’s restraints, escorting him from the throne room with significantly more care than before.

Twilight and her friends bowed briefly before following, their muffled giggles still audible as they departed.

Once alone, Celestia covered her face with a hand, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Shall we inform the kitchen staff about the change in diet?" came Luna’s voice, teasing yet smooth, as she materialized from the shadows with an impish grin.

"Hush, Luna," Celestia murmured, her voice muffled by her hands. But a small smile tugged at her lips when she heard something she hadn’t in over a hundred years—her little sister’s genuine, joyful laughter.

Author's Note

Bonus Idea:

Stand User: Pinkamena Diane Pie (Alter! Pinkie Pie)

Stand Name: C, B, T (A Cruel Barbie’s Thesis - Yoko Takanashi: Evangelion and Aqua: Barbie Girl - Remixed and mashed up by Matt N.)

Attributes

Power: A

Speed: A

Range: E

Durability: A

Precision: B

Potential: E

Stand Description

C, B, T is a normally formless, always-active Stand, existing as an abstract entity tied deeply to the fabric of reality itself. Manifesting from Pinkamena Diane Pie's fractured psyche, it grants her the ability to perceive and interact with truths beyond mortal comprehension, including the metaphysical "handwriting" of destiny and the creative forces shaping existence.

Abilities

Vision Beyond Reality
C, B, T allows Pinkamena to perceive the "Penned Hand of God" and the "Forge of Creation," metaphors for the forces that dictate fate, destiny, and the structure of her reality. She sees herself and others as mere characters in a grand narrative, their lives shaped by higher beings' whims. This revelation shattered her psyche, splitting her into:

Pinky: The cheerful, obedient alter ego who adheres perfectly to the "script."

Pinkamena: The true self, rebellious and aware of the puppet strings controlling her world.

Dimensional Awareness and Interaction
Like D4C, C, B, T enables limited interaction with parallel worlds and alternate dimensions. While Pinkamena cannot freely traverse these realms, she can observe and occasionally influence them, leveraging this knowledge to manipulate events or gain insight into the multiverse’s mechanics.

Reality Subversion
By glimpsing beyond the fourth wall, Pinkamena can subtly disrupt the "script," introducing chaos into the narrative designed by the "higher beings." This ability grows stronger when working with others who can defy fate, such as Harry and his Stand, Wanderer. Her defiance acts as a metaphysical wrench in the gears of destiny.

Psychic Resilience and Insight
Pinkamena’s exposure to existential truths grants her an unshakable will and sharp insight. She can predict outcomes, read between the lines of fate, and discern hidden truths, though this ability is often colored by her nihilistic worldview.

Drawbacks

Fractured Psyche
The Stand’s awakening fractured Pinkamena's mind, creating a divide between her two personas. This internal conflict weakens her emotional stability and limits her Stand's potential, as only full reconciliation between Pinky and Pinkamena can unlock C, B, T’s true power.

Limited Range
Despite its immense power and speed, C, B, T operates within a highly restricted range, focusing almost entirely on the user’s immediate surroundings or metaphysical awareness rather than direct physical interactions.

Existential Weight
Pinkamena’s awareness of her reality’s artificial nature is both a strength and a curse. It fuels her defiance but also burdens her with despair and cynicism, which can hinder her actions and relationships.

Character Arc and Motivations

Pinkamena Diane Pie’s life changed when she realized her existence was controlled by "higher beings" scripting her every move. Initially, this led to deep nihilism and defiance, as she saw herself as a mere doll in a cosmic game. However, the arrival of Harry and Wanderer, a Stand that disrupts the flow of causality itself, gave her hope.

Now, Pinkamena uses C, B, T to fight back against the forces that control her world, seeking to rewrite her own destiny. Her ultimate goal is to fuse her fractured personas, uniting Pinky’s cheerful resilience with Pinkamena’s rebellious determination, becoming whole and free.

This journey is slow and arduous, but her resolve is unyielding. Every step she takes disrupts the "script," bringing her closer to seizing control of her own fate and liberating her world from the "Penned Hand of God."

Meet the six (Part one)

The Mare Six followed the guard and the strange captive to the barracks' eating area, though they lagged behind to converse amongst themselves.

Rainbow Dash was still giggling and guffawing, her wings twitching with residual laughter. "W-What was all that about?" she asked, wiping a tear from her eye.

Applejack, now calm but still sporting an incredulous smile, chuckled. "That was about as crazy as the time Uncle Ripe Tomato wrestled a yak into submission for callin' his calzone a 'pizza taco.'" The farmer shook her head, ignoring the incredulous stares of her friends. "Bless his heart, that yak never knew what hit him."

Rarity placed a hand on her chest, her brows furrowed with worry. "Well, it was... certainly a unique experience, to say the least. But my heart goes out to that healer. The poor dear looked absolutely dreadful. I can't imagine the stress he must endure."

Fluttershy fidgeted with her fingers, her gaze drifting in the direction the captive had been taken. "I-I could hear his stomach rumbling... it was faint, but... oh, it sounded like he hadn't eaten in days," she murmured softly, her voice tinged with concern.

"And that thing around his neck! What was that?" Pinkie Pie asked, unusually subdued. She still looked shaken from the healer's impassioned rant about processed sugar, her curls slightly deflated. The thought of that collar — a cruel-looking device — sent a shiver down her spine. "It looked like some kind of torture contraption."

Twilight, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, her gloved hand resting thoughtfully on her chin. "That, Pinkie, was a magical suppression collar," she explained, her tone clinical. "It's used on high-profile prisoners. From what I could tell, that was one of the smaller models available. Given the size and shape of his neck, it makes sense. His neck is shorter than ours or even a dragon's, so the fit isn’t perfect."

The group leaned in as Twilight continued, her voice steady but grim. "The spikes inside the collar are designed to prevent relaxation and make it impossible for the wearer to forget it's there. In his case, the imperfect fit likely caused the spikes to dig into his skin, leading to lacerations. That’s why he was bleeding."

A heavy silence fell over the group as they absorbed this information, the weight of Twilight's explanation settling like a fog.

"And how do you know that?" Rainbow Dash finally asked, her expression a mix of curiosity and unease.

Twilight shrugged, adjusting her glove. "My brother works in the military," she said simply, as if that answered everything.

Harry was busy stuffing himself with as much food as he could while still using cutlery, his movements deliberate but hurried.

He had been right in his earlier assessment: these humanoid ponies had a diet far more vegetarian than a typical human one. While they abstained from red meat, he noted that some of them seemed to enjoy fish. What they served him was simple but nourishing: reheated shredded fried fish mixed with tomato and onion, a side of beans, and a cup of something that tasted like daisy tea.

To some, this meal might have seemed meager, almost insulting. But to Harry, who had endured far worse while living with the Dursleys and during his time evading Voldemort across Britain, no meal was too small to appreciate.

"Whoa! Easy there, Doc! We’re gonna need to call another medic if you keep that up!" a rookie guard exclaimed, his voice breaking the silence of the desolate cafeteria.

"Leave him be, Flash Sentry," admonished the captain, the same one who had made Harry a human pinball earlier after being teased. "It’s clear the doctor hasn’t had anything substantial to eat in quite some time."

"No, no, it’s all right. He’s right," Harry said, slowing his pace and waving a hand dismissively. "The last thing I want is to choke to death before finishing this meal. That would be bloody embarrassing."

After a few seconds of silence, Flash spoke again, his curiosity getting the better of him. "So! How did a... well, whatever the Tartarus you are... end up in the middle of the Everfree Forest?"

Harry hummed thoughtfully around his cup of tea before replying. "Oh, you know, the usual. Someone was in danger, I got called up. It turned out to be a trap involving a dark, evil lord I’d already vanquished almost five times by that point. Then two bloody morons pushed me—and themselves—into a mystical artifact of Death. Not allegorical, not metaphorical, just Death straight up. But surprise! I’m not dead yet. So I explored. Some bugs told me someone else was in danger, for real this time, so I heeded the call and helped a group of damsels in distress vanquish a crazed dark goddess. You know, Thursday."

He took a sip of his tea, entirely aware of the incredulous looks he was receiving.

Flash visibly rebooted before responding in a casual tone, "Sounds like Thursday." He raised his cup, and Harry clinked his teacup against the rookie’s with a small grin.

They both chuckled, joined by an amused snort from the captain, before the cafeteria doors swung open. The colorful ponies Harry had seen earlier in the castle entered.

At least, he thought it was them. He was still without his glasses.

Brilliant.

"Lady Sparkle, Lady Elements," the captain and rookie greeted in unison, bowing deeply. The gesture wasn’t just for Twilight as the princess’s student but also for the Elements of Harmony—the heroines who had gone above and beyond to save not just Equestria but the entire world from eternal darkness. They had even freed the forgotten goddess of the moon from the fiend that had corrupted her, reuniting the two royal sisters after an unimaginable separation.

Their reverence, however, made them miss the uncomfortable looks that flickered across the faces of the newly arrived mares.

Twilight raised a hand in a dismissive motion, an almost perfect mimicry of Princess Celestia’s habitual gesture. "There’s no need for such formality, Captain Nimbus. We’re here under the princess’s orders, as you know, but also out of personal curiosity. Would you kindly leave us alone with Mr. Harry, please?" she asked, her tone polite but firm.

The two guards bowed once more and began to leave. Flash, however, hesitated briefly, casting Twilight a subtle salute and a warm smile. She blushed lightly but nodded in acknowledgment, a small, shy smile gracing her lips.

The moment she did half turn she was meet with the expectant eyes of Rarity, her relationship senses tingling.

"So who would that be hum?".- The fashionista asked.

Twilight simply sigh.

Harry continued eating, letting the lively banter of the mares wash over him as they teased and joked with one another. Their dynamic was both amusing and endearing, but he kept his focus on finishing his meal. He wasn’t about to let good food go to waste.

That was, until someone sat directly across from him. He paused, noticing a blur of orange and brown in his still-unfocused vision.

"Howdy there, partner! Name’s Applejack," a cheerful voice greeted. The speaker extended a hand in greeting, her tone carrying a distinct southern drawl that reminded Harry of the old American Wild West movies.

"Harry James Potter. A pleasure," Harry responded almost automatically. He reached out to shake her hand but misjudged the distance, his fingers instead brushing her forearm. It was soft but firm, with a noticeable strength beneath the surface. The air around her seemed to carry the faint, comforting scent of apples and cinnamon.

"Blimey, sorry about that," Harry apologized, quickly adjusting to meet her hand properly. When he did, he was surprised by the strength in her handshake. It was firm, almost challenging, but not unpleasant.

"No harm, no foul, sugarcube," Applejack replied with an easy chuckle, her green eyes twinkling with good humor. She leaned back slightly, her posture relaxed, before drawing him into light conversation. Her warm demeanor and straightforward manner put Harry at ease almost immediately, and he found himself engaging more than he expected.

They were deep in a discussion about growing tomatoes when another of the girls joined their table.

"...So that was Uncle Ripe’s secret all along? Feeding the tomatoes sugar water as they grow?" Applejack mused, still incredulous.

Her family had spent years trying to uncover Uncle Ripe’s secret recipe. His sweet tomato sauce was the crown jewel of his foreign dishes and the pride of their family’s culinary experiments.

Harry shrugged with a smile. "Well, that’s what Neville did, and he was the one with the green thumb in our group."

"Ooh! When you manage that, can you give me some, Jacky? That would be awesome-sauce!" An energetic voice interrupted from Harry’s left.

Both sets of green eyes jumped. Applejack shifted into a defensive posture, while Harry, startled, nearly slashed with the knife he’d been using to eat. The blade came perilously close to the intruder’s throat before he managed to stop himself.

"BLOODY HELL, LASS! Don’t sneak up on a bloke like that!" Harry barked, his voice laced with lingering adrenaline as he lowered the knife. He shoved it into his pocket, exhaling sharply to calm himself.

Pinkie Pie froze, her usual bubbly demeanor replaced by a moment of genuine contrition. Memories of their encounter with Nightmare Moon—and the unnervingly cold feel of metal against her skin—flashed through her mind. She swallowed hard.

"I-I’ll keep that in mind. Sorry," she stammered, her tone sincere.

Harry studied her for a moment before nodding. "And I’m sorry for overreacting. But really, lass, you can’t just jump on people like that."

Pinkie nodded fervently, her curls bouncing with the motion. "Got it! No more surprise greetings. Pinkie Promise!" She mimed a quick motion, sticking her hand across her chest and poking herself in the eye for emphasis.

Applejack, who had been watching the exchange with a mix of concern and amusement, finally relaxed. "Well, sugarcube, consider that a lesson learned for both of ya. Now, how ‘bout we get back to tomatoes?" She winked, lightening the mood as the three settled back into conversation.

Author's Note

Bonus Idea:

Stand User: Princess Luna Newstar

Stand Name: Mass D (Mass Destruction Act 1 - Persona 3: Reloaded)

Attributes

Power: B

Speed: B

Range: D

Durability: B

Precision: B

Potential: A

Stand Description

Mass D is an armor-like Stand that functions exclusively in the dream world. Drawing on the latent energy of Princess Luna’s darker alter ego, Nightmare Moon, it manifests as a sleek, mystical armor that dramatically alters her appearance, save for her flowing blue hair, which remains a marker of her original identity.

This Stand serves as both a protective and empowering force, enabling Luna to navigate the dangers of the dreamscape while battling nightmares and threats within the subconscious realms of others.

Abilities

Dream World Mastery
Mass D allows Luna to move freely and safely through the perilous landscapes of the dream world, granting her immunity to the chaotic and often volatile nature of these mental realms. It provides unmatched agility, endurance, and spatial awareness in this domain.

Borrowed Power
A unique feature of the Stand is its ability to let Luna borrow moves or spells from allies who are present in the dream world. This power makes Mass D highly versatile, as it enables her to adapt to a variety of combat scenarios, incorporating the strengths and abilities of others into her repertoire.

Enhanced Physical Capabilities
The armor amplifies Luna’s physical strength, speed, and endurance to extraordinary levels, allowing her to perform feats that would be impossible in her normal state. These enhancements make her a formidable force against even the most dangerous adversaries in the dream world.

Nightmare Resilience
The Stand’s durability and defensive properties are unparalleled in the dream world, enabling Luna to survive and counter otherwise lethal threats. It serves as both her shield and sword in battles against the manifestations of fear and despair.

Drawbacks

Dependence on the Dream World
Mass D functions only within the dream world, rendering it ineffective in the physical realm. Luna must rely on her own abilities and resolve outside this domain.

Risk of Reverting to Nightmare Moon
The armor draws its power from the residual essence of Nightmare Moon. While this grants immense strength, it comes at a cost: the more power Luna uses, the greater the risk of succumbing to her darker alter ego. This internal struggle requires constant vigilance and self-control.

Limited Range
The Stand’s D-rated range confines its effectiveness to close-quarters combat or immediate surroundings, making Luna rely heavily on her enhanced mobility and adaptability in battle.

Personality and Usage

Mass D embodies Luna’s duality—a reflection of both her desire to protect and her ongoing struggle with the remnants of Nightmare Moon. The Stand's potent capabilities symbolize Luna’s resolve to redeem herself and guard the dream world from harm, yet its reliance on a dark power serves as a constant reminder of her vulnerability to corruption.

Luna uses Mass D with caution, knowing the stakes of losing control. Her journey with this Stand is not just about protecting others but also about confronting her own inner demons and mastering the balance between light and shadow.

In the dream world, Mass D is an awe-inspiring force of hope and fear—a guardian against nightmares and a testament to Luna’s strength and resilience.

Conversation with a Apple and Pie

“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]

Meeting the six (Part 2)

Twilight coughed into her hand before beginning, straightening her posture as she addressed the visitor.

"So. Harry James Potter, correct?" she asked, slipping seamlessly into what her brother often referred to as her "politics mode."

"That's correct," Harry confirmed, instantly recognizing the shift in tone. He, too, adjusted his stance, stepping into what he privately called his own "diplomatic mode." Years of dealing with wizarding politics had trained him well, and he knew the importance of matching the formality of his counterpart.

The other mares watched the exchange in silence, their curiosity evident, but none dared to interrupt the formalities unfolding before them.

Twilight took a deep breath before rising to her hooves, the practiced elegance of her movements displaying her royal tutelage. Understanding the protocol, Harry followed suit, standing as well. The air between them grew thick with unspoken tradition and power.

"As the sole heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Midnight, I, Twilight Sparkle, extend our deepest gratitude for your invaluable aid during the Nightmare incident," Twilight declared, her voice steady and regal. "If there is anything within my power to grant, do not hesitate to request it."

She punctuated her words with a deep bow, a rare sign of formality that made the weight of the moment all the more significant.

Harry, for his part, did not respond immediately. He understood the gravity of such declarations. Words spoken in these circumstances were not mere pleasantries; they carried weight, influence, and binding intent. He took a moment to weigh his response carefully, ensuring that his request aligned with both necessity and propriety.

Finally, he inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her words before speaking.

"As the head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter and Peverell, I, Harry James Potter, accept the gratitude offered. In return, my request is simple yet vital: I seek safe haven within your lands for the foreseeable future. As a foreigner in this realm, I stand without ally or home, and such sanctuary would grant me the stability to find my footing in this unfamiliar world."

The room held its breath as the words settled, the significance of the exchange not lost on any present. Twilight's eyes met his, searching for deeper meaning, but she found only sincerity and calculated precision. A request for sanctuary—politically delicate, but not unreasonable given the circumstances.

A moment later, Twilight nodded, a small yet decisive motion.

"Then it shall be granted."

They shake hands and with that, the first true accord between their worlds was sealed.

"What in the Buking name of Celestia was that?!".- Dash the crash ruin the moment like a stone through glass.

"Politics Dash/Lass/Dear/Silly/sugar-cube/Rain".- All the present entone at the same time in a deppand tone making the rainbow mare to sweat nervously.

"Ha! Jinx! Now you all owe me a soda!" Pinkie exclaimed.

The girls, except for Dash, groaned, but Harry just chuckled.

(Nice to see some things stay the same no matter the world.)

Rarity took the opportunity to step forward, batting her lashes. "Now that the formalities are out of the way, darling, how about a proper introduction? A dashing stallion like yourself must have quite the tale to tell—especially if you managed to hold off a goddess." She finished with a flirtatious wink.

Applejack rolled her eyes. She was more than used to Rarity's habit of flirting with anything that so much as breathed.

The stallion in question chuckled once more.

"Well, as you might have heard, my name is Harry. Harry James Potter. Freelance investigator, licensed healer, wizard, fool and hero wannabe extraordinaire. In short, just a bloke who's been dealt a bad hand by life, people, and fate—but still tries to make a difference. Preferably in a positive way."

"Well, ya certainly did, sugarcube. You sure did," Applejack agreed with a nod.

The mare, however, noted that the stallion was rather humble—if a bit self-deprecating.

"And that’s exactly what I want to understand…" Twilight said, her tone shifting to something more formal. "How did you do it? No—better question: how was it even possible?" She hesitated for a moment before uncovering her gloved hand. "... And is it reversible?"

Fluttershy, Rarity, and Pinkie gasped in surprise.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash hissed in sympathy.

Harry frowned. His vision wasn’t the best without his glasses, but even he could see that something was wrong.

It was an odd and unpleasant sight.

Twilight’s hand wasn’t deformed, nor did it have any abscesses, but where her fur had once been a brilliant purple, it was now a dull, lifeless gray.

It was as if the color—no, the life—had been drained from the limb.

Harry’s emerald eyes sharpened, turning almost reptilian as he extended a hand cordially.

"May I?" he asked.

Twilight, both cautious and intrigued by the self-modification magic he had displayed earlier, extended her hand.

Harry took it delicately, his magic-enhanced vision flaring to life as he examined it.

Normally, magic flowed through a being like a river of fiery, colorless energy, coursing through pathways that mirrored the bloodstream—overlapping with, but distinct from, the actual blood vessels. This was why blood magic had been the first ever discovered; humans had to cut themselves to cast even the simplest of spells, like Repulso.

Wands and other foci merely served as guides, allowing magic to be directed and controlled, preventing it from scattering chaotically.

That was how it worked for humans.

For these hyper-evolved equines, however, magic functioned differently.

It still coursed through pathways across their bodies, yes—but it wasn’t contained.

Magic permeated their very being, from their coats and fingernails to their blood and bones.

For wizards, magic was an ability—something that could be stripped away without being fatal.

For ponies, magic was life itself.

Without it, they wouldn’t just weaken.

They would die.

"Can you move them?" Harry asked gently, pushing aside the surge of self-loathing that always arose when he harmed someone—even unintentionally.

Twilight nodded and flexed her fingers.

Muscles and nerves responded as they should, but magic did not flow.

Her entire hand had become an anti-magic zone. Even the briefest contact with his poisonous blood had caused significant damage to these beings. It was fortunate he had control over it.

"They respond normally, no delay in input… but they feel strange," Twilight observed, her voice clinical, almost detached. "I can sense them, I know they're there, yet… they feel empty. Numb."

It sounded like a scientific report, merely an intellectual curiosity to her.

At least, that was how it appeared at first glance.

But Harry knew better.

She was curious, yes—but also unsettled. Not hopeless, though. Hermione acts the same way sometimes…

"You also seem different, darling," Rarity commented after a brief moment of deliberation.

Twilight blinked. "How so?" she asked, tilting her head.

"You seem more… calm?" Fluttershy spoke up softly for the first time since entering the room.

Pinkie nodded rapidly. "Yup! You’re way more relaxo and plaxo!"

Twilight frowned in thought.

"...You're right. All three of you are. I just feel… less explosive?" she murmured, as if realizing it herself for the first time.

"Well, if anyone knows, it's the old man. So! What did you do, bastard?" Rainbow Dash demanded, shooting a glare at Harry.

He ignored her. His focus had shifted to something on Twilight’s wrist.

"Dash, please behave," Fluttershy scolded, giving her childhood friend a look that made the pegasus back down—for now.

"Old man? What in tarnation bit ya to make that assumption?" Applejack asked, a bit confrontational.

It was rare to find someone as honest as her family was.

And that’s exactly what this bizarre stallion was—honest.

When he described himself, he wasn’t downplaying his abilities on purpose or trying to hide something.

He genuinely believed he was exactly as he said—nothing more, nothing less.

(A fool… Guess that’s what ya gotta be if ya go against a god and still dream of bein’ a hero…) Applejack thought.

"What? Did he enchant you like Jaime Cúmulo?" Dash teased, never one to back down from a challenge. Her tone was the kind that would’ve gotten anyone else punched in the face.

Silence fell over the room.

Rainbow Dash paled as her friends stared at her blankly.

"Who?" was the unspoken question on every mare’s mind.

Then—

"OH MY! OH MY!"

Rarity shattered the silence with a glass-shattering squeal, her hands flying to her cheeks.

"Dashy! I didn’t know you knew Cúmulo! Oh, we simply must discuss this over tea—no! Coffee! Shaken, but not stirred!" she gushed, grabbing the athlete’s hands in excitement.

Rainbow, for her part, could feel every ounce of her rude and cool persona melting away like an ice cube in the desert.

(My street… creed… ruined…) she lamented internally, fully aware that while Rarity wasn’t one for gossiping behind anypony’s back, she had a remarkable talent for loose lips when it came to less important secrets.

It was only a matter of time now.

The rest of the mares chuckled—except for Twilight, who merely raised an eyebrow, still not entirely used to this kind of camaraderie.

"Well, that was entertaining," Harry remarked, humor lacing his voice as he finally pulled away from Twilight’s wrist. "But I’m done here."

The ponies blinked and turned their attention back to Twilight’s hand.

The color was steadily returning, the lifeless gray giving way to vibrant purple once more. Meanwhile, Harry casually wiped something off her wrist with a napkin.

"Good job!" Pinkie cheered before tilting her head curiously. "But what did you do?"

Harry smiled at the energetic mare, his slit pupils making the expression look almost predatory.

"I just removed… well, my blood, from her system," he explained. "I forced it out through her sweat. Since the venom in it wasn’t active— as it had a different objective—her magic should return to normal quickly."

He held up the napkin. In the center, a dark stain glistened, reeking of metal and acid.

Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes. Shifting them always left them dry—snakes, after all, couldn’t exactly blink.

When he opened them again, they were back to their usual round, kind emeralds.

"Now, regarding her attitude change..." Harry mused before tilting his head slightly. "Hmm… answer me this—when you were a youngling, did you ever experience magic surges? And I mean really powerful ones."

Twilight considered the question briefly before nodding.

"Now that you mention it, yes. I had them quite frequently—or at least, that's what my family told me." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I think… yes, during my first magic surge, I transmuted my parents into potted plants… and then back, thankfully."

Her friends all stared at her with raised eyebrows.

Harry, on the other hand, simply nodded, his expression turning more serious.

"I see… Well, this might sound like a load of bollocks, but you might have had a case of Magic Overflow."

[To be continued...]

Author's Note

Author’s Note: For anypony wondering, I’ve aged up the main cast.

TL;DR: The Mane Six and other characters are now in their 20s.

I’m not exactly sure how old they were at the start of the series, but given that they act like adolescents—both literally and figuratively—I’d estimate their original ages to be around 15 to 17, give or take a few years. Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Rarity seem to be the oldest, as they have established jobs.

Applejack’s situation is a bit unclear, but it’s likely that Big Mac was the real owner of Sweet Apple Acres after their parents passed.

Pinkie Pie is not an employee or a helper—she’s an apprentice. This could mean she wasn’t even old enough to have a part-time job when she started working at Sugarcube Corner. It’s also very likely she ran away from home, considering how gloomy and restrictive her upbringing was for someone as energetic as her.

Twilight, on the other hoof, is a recent graduate from a school for geniuses. Who’s to say she didn’t graduate years ahead of schedule?

Exposition and royal musings.

"Magic Overflow..." Twilight frowned, considering the concept.

"Yes, Magic Overflow," Harry confirmed with a nod.

"Hmm." Rarity tapped a delicate purple fingernail against her chin. "...Oh dear, it does sound like that."

"And for those of us who aren't unicorns, what does that even mean?" Dash demanded more than asked. She hid it well, but there was definite concern in her voice.

"It means exactly what it sounds like—an overflow of magic in one's body," Harry explained. "Also sometimes called Magical Overclock, it's a condition usually triggered by extreme stress or intense magical exertion. When the body perceives a life-threatening situation, it forces itself to generate as much magic as physically possible to respond." He shook his head. "Think of it like Magical Adrenaline… but don’t take my word for it."

Murmurs of comprehension spread through the room.

Twilight, for her part, closed her eyes, already running through a mental checklist of possible symptoms.

"The best way to be sure is to check myself. If I find at least four of the five symptoms, I’ll inform my physician."

She took a deep breath, just as an old friend had taught her long ago, and concentrated.

Checklist:

First: Temperature Check. A pony experiencing Magical Overflow tends to have an elevated body temperature. However, if I've been in this state for too long, I should actually be running colder than usual.
Casting self-care temperature check spell… Reading… 26°C.
I’m usually around 29°C. I used to think this was normal due to my magic affinity for fire or my bond with Spike.
[Point in favor] [Check on Spike later]

Second: Hyper Awareness. Like adrenaline, Magical Overflow enhances focus—but instead of sharpening physical reflexes, it heightens the sixth sense—awareness of oneself and others in the world.
[Ambiguous—needs further testing.]

As Twilight continued her self-check, the conversation at the table carried on.

"Well, that's all good to know, but you still haven't answered her!" Dash growled, frustration seeping into her voice. "HOW. AND. WHY. DID. THAT. HAPPEN!?"

Fluttershy frowned at her friend but didn’t intervene this time—she was just as curious and concerned.

Harry internally rolled his eyes. By now, he had seen things far more terrifying than an angry female—human or not—but he answered nonetheless.

"It’s my blood," he stated simply, holding up the blackened napkin once more. "Due to… certain events in my past, it has developed anti-magical properties. During the fight against the Dark One, Lady Twilight must have come into contact with it. It was absorbed through touch, and… well, that happened."

"There won’t be any side effects, will there?" Applejack asked, her concern evident.

Harry smiled at her—his friend?—and nodded reassuringly.

"No. Although it functions similarly to venom, it’s still part of me. My intent was to only target the Obscurus possessing Princess Luna, not Twilight. Because of that, the 'poison' inside her was, fortunately, dormant once its objective was accomplished. It only drained small amounts of her magic." He paused, thoughtful. "In fact, I suspect that’s what actually allowed her body to relax from her magical overdrive."

"Sooo, in short, you helped her by bleeding on her…?" Pinkie summed up, tilting her head.

"Oh! And what’s an Obcuros?" She completely mispronounced the word.

Harry let out a short, amused laugh.

"Ha! You could say that."

Then, his expression darkened. His posture shifted into something far more serious, and the change was immediately felt by everyone at the table.

"An Obscurus is… bad business. Really bad, bloody business," he said grimly. "In short, it’s an amalgamation of negative emotions and repressed desires, mixed with highly compressed magic. A raw, destructive force of magic and nature."

For a moment, a deep sadness crossed his features before he steadied himself and continued.

"Usually—and regrettably—these monsters are, more often than not... children."

A collective gasp filled the room.

"WHAT?!" Applejack bellowed, echoed—shockingly—by Fluttershy.

Harry could only sigh heavily before continue explaining.

[Royal Gardens]

(This… wasn’t supposed to happen.)

Celestia repeated the thought once more as she sipped her tea, maintaining an outwardly calm demeanor.

The prophecy clearly spoke of six ponies… one foreigner from a clan and five locals from the town near the ancient forest. Together, they were meant to become the new Bearers of the Elements and free my sister…

But that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, a human—and one from a clan—had been the ones to free her. And the Elements… were now semi-dormant.

For a moment, a faint frown marred her otherwise serene face.

A human…

It had been a long time since one last set foot in this realm. And every time one appeared, fate itself seemed to be thrown into chaos.

The last one helped them discover steam technology and the concept of a train… but the one before that nearly succeeded in plotting her assassination.

I suppose only time will tell if this one is an ally… or a problem.

A gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Celly… art thou well, sister?”

Concern shone in Luna’s teal eyes as she carefully placed a hand over her elder sister’s.

Celestia shook her head lightly and offered a genuine smile, giving her little sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You worry too much,” she replied fondly. “I’m fine, little sister. Just contemplative. Much has changed in the thousand years you were gone. I was merely deciding what to show you first.”

Luna studied her for a moment, her expression making it clear she didn’t fully believe her. But she didn’t press. It wasn’t her place to do so—not after her own fall.

“Very well, then, sister of mine. If we may make a suggestion…” Luna straightened slightly, a touch of excitement slipping into her voice. “We wish to know more about this… radio that some of the guards were speaking of.”

Chapter 0.9

Harry gazed out the window, the rhythmic chuffing and soft crackling of the locomotive filling the air. The steady motion of the train, the faint scent of steam and metal—it all stirred something deep within him. Nostalgia, warm and bittersweet, settled in his chest like an old friend.

With a quiet sigh, he closed his eyes and took in the crisp morning air. A placid smile graced his lips as he allowed himself a moment of peace.

"Doing good, doc?" Flash Sentry’s voice pulled him back to the present.

Harry turned to the stallion, now able to get a proper look at him thanks to the return of his glasses. Flash had a bright yellow coat of fur and feathered wings, his wild dark blue mane giving him the perpetual appearance of someone who had just rolled out of bed. His blue eyes held a casual, friendly glint, and he wore denim pants paired with a black leather jacket over a simple t-shirt—one that bore the emblem of what Harry could only assume was some kind of sports team. He noted the absence of footwear, though that made sense given that Flash, much like a satyr, had hooves.

"Aye, just reminiscing about old times is all," Harry said, offering his parole officer a small smile.

That was one of the conditions for his release. He was an enigma, a potential danger, and so someone had to keep an eye on him. As luck would have it, that someone happened to be this particular guard—a familiar face, one he had already met. More conveniently, they were both heading to the same destination.

"Reminiscing, huh?" Flash tilted his head before breaking into a grin. "Lady Dash was right—you do sound like an old man!"

Harry merely shrugged. "She’s not wrong. I’m in my thirties. Thirty-five, to be exact."

"Bullshit," Flash shot back instantly. "You don’t look a day past your twenties."

It was an amusing observation, though Harry supposed it made sense. Flash had never seen a ‘hoo-man’ before, but it was obvious to him that the man sitting before him still carried the air of someone in his prime.

Harry simply chuckled, shaking his head. "If you believe so, if you believe so."

Turning his gaze back to the window, he watched as their destination came into view. The town was small but picturesque, its quaint charm standing in stark contrast to the grandiose mountain citadel that loomed in the distance—the capital of this land, Equestria. The two locations were connected by a railway, an old line aptly named ‘The Old Road.’

Fitting, I suppose.

Had he been younger, a teenager perhaps, he would have scoffed at the almost comically cheesy naming conventions he was starting to notice. But then again, wizards—especially those from the British Isles—were hardly any better. If anything, they were worse.

"A few minutes before arrival now. Get ready," Flash instructed as he grabbed his trunk.

Harry nodded, following suit as he gathered his belongings. For better or worse, this place would be his home—at least for the foreseeable future.

Author's Note

This was meant to go with the previous chapter but I just got free to write as I traveling tomorrow

Stand Name: Lil Theory

(Little Theorizing — The Stupendiom)

[embed]

(Inspired by "Little Theorizing" — The Stupendium)

User: Sunny Starscout

StatRating
Strength: D (?)
Speed: C (?)
Range: ???
Durability: D (?)
Precision: D (?)
Potential: ???

Stand Ability: "The Growth of Thought"

Lil Theory is an unconventional Stand, offering neither an immediate boon nor a direct hindrance to its user. Instead, it thrives on the user's pursuit of knowledge, feeding on their ideas, speculations, and hypotheses. Its power evolves dynamically based on how close the user gets to uncovering a fundamental Truth.

The Stand gains strength as an idea progresses from mere speculation to a well-supported hypothesis, and eventually, a full-fledged theory or fact.

If a hypothesis is refined and proven with irrefutable logic or evidence, the Stand may unlock new abilities reflecting this deeper understanding.

However, should the user's belief in their theory be shattered beyond doubt, Lil Theory devolves, resetting to its weakest state and forcing the user to start from scratch.

The closer the user is to absolute Truth, the more their Stand aligns with the essence of The World Arcana, symbolizing enlightenment, mastery, and ultimate realization.

0.9.2

"You sure about this, Twilight?" Spike asked, his clawed hands buried in the pockets of his purple and green jacket.

The train let out a final whistle and chuffed to a halt at the station.

Twilight Sparkle merely smiled at her assistant, the kind of patient, reassuring smile only a parent could give when trying to soothe their child.

"As I told you before, Spike, I gave my word as heir of our house. I must do this. And besides, you know that if push comes to shove, I can defend myself. Plus, Harry isn’t anything like the despicable nobles from the other houses. You’ll see—you might even like him."

Her smile then shifted, gaining a glint of something far more intense. Spike recognized it immediately—hunger, but not for food. This was Twilight’s unquenchable thirst for knowledge. The other ponies waiting at the station, however, lacked his insight. Given her past outbursts—particularly the infamous Nightmare Night incident—they wisely took a few steps back.

"And think of all the wisdom he must have!" she continued, eyes shining. "Coming from such distant lands, imagine all the exotic knowledge!"

A small giggle escaped her, one that sent the weak-willed fleeing and the more cautious bystanders taking another subtle step away.

Spike sighed. "If you say so."

Truth be told, he didn’t know what to think of this Harry character. Twilight and the rest of the girls spoke well of him whenever his name came up. That irked Spike’s draconic pride more than he cared to admit—especially when Lady Rarity had gone on about his ‘striking emerald eyes.’ I have green eyes too!

On the other claw… he had hurt Twilight.

Whatever that ‘anti-magic-blood’ thing was, it had set his instincts on edge. Sure, Harry had healed her afterward, but it still didn’t sit right with him. This was something he and Harry needed to discuss face to face, if only to settle the unease gnawing at his draconic instincts.

Spike let out a deep sigh. Sometimes, being a dragon was more trouble than it was worth.

So, as he often did when faced with stress, he decided to mess with his closest relative.

Spike gave Twilight a knowing smirk, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You sure you’re not just excited for the arrival of a certain rookie guard, hum?"

"Who are you talking abou—oh." Twilight’s face turned crimson, and she let out a quick, flustered growl. "Hush!"

Spike only laughed in response.

Another one this one definitely much more masculine soon join him.

"HAHAHA! So, what’s the joke?" Flash Sentry asked, curious as he eyed a laughing—lizard? Gecko?—wearing a purple and green jacket over a simple white t-shirt and black sports pants. He also had no footwear, but given his reptilian feet, that wasn’t surprising.

The reptile smirked, an expression that Harry recognized anywhere.

"Oh! Flash, hello! It’s nothing, just Twilight’s daily reminder that she’s a Tsundere." Spike finished with a pair of finger guns, making the guard burst into laughter.

Twilight groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Ugh, I knew letting you read those Neigh-ponese comics was a bad idea."

Both non-human males shared a blank look, then turned to Twilight before speaking in unison.

"Says Miss ‘I am the bone of my sword’?"

Twilight’s shoulders slumped in defeat as the two broke into full laughter, their camaraderie already apparent.

"Ugh, why do I associate with either of you again?" she muttered, her question rhetorical.

Harry, however, chose to answer. "Why do we keep up with family? Because they’re important to us. What harm is there in a few jokes if they keep those closest to us happy?"

Harry chuckled as Flash, embracing his new ‘older sibling’ role, pulled Spike into a noogie.

"Oh! Lord Potter!" Twilight suddenly straightened, as if remembering her manners. "Apologies for not noticing you sooner!" She bowed, her formal etiquette kicking in automatically.

Harry simply waved her off. "I have that effect on people, yes. And just Harry will do. It would be unbecoming of a guest to be addressed so formally, wouldn’t it?"

Twilight considered his words before offering a small, approving smile. "It would be, it truly would be."

Chapter 1: The ticket. (Part 1)

A unicorn, a pegasus, a dragon, and a wizard walked through town.

In most places, this peculiar entourage would have turned heads, drawn whispers, and left onlookers staring in curiosity—or even alarm. If they had been in human London, the sight of a talking unicorn alone would have been enough to cause a commotion.

But in Equestria?

Ponies barely batted an eye.

Oh, they noticed, of course. It wasn’t every day they saw a human strolling through town. But Equestria was a land of wonders, where one could occasionally spot a wandering griffon merchant, the zebra mystic from the Everfree, or even the odd dragon seeking a peaceful life among ponies. So, while the odd creature in their midst was an uncommon sight, it wasn’t unheard of. Most just raised an eyebrow, gave a passing glance, and carried on with their day.

"So, this is Ponyville, huh? Look lively," Flash remarked, hauling his travel trunk along the dirt road leading to the town’s center. His voice carried a mix of curiosity and mild skepticism as he took in the bustling scene before him.

Ponyville was alive with activity. Merchants called out their wares from colorful market stalls, the clang of a blacksmith’s hammer rang through the air, and the mouthwatering aroma of fresh-baked goods drifted from a nearby bakery. Ponies weaved in and out of shops, chatting, laughing, bartering—a constant, flowing current of movement and energy.

Twilight hummed in agreement, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd.

"It certainly looks that way," she said thoughtfully. "But from what Applejack and Rarity told me, it’s not always this busy. The town is usually much quieter. This sudden influx of travelers is because of the Summer Sun Celebration. Ponyville is a popular resting spot for visitors—it has much of what Canterlot offers but without the extra travel or the, well, exorbitant prices."

Harry chuckled, a nostalgic smile creeping onto his face.

"It reminds me of a place near the school where I learned magic—Hogsmeade," he mused. His gaze softened as he let out a wistful sigh. "Ah, what memories..."

"...Okay, now I’m starting to believe you when you say you’re thirty-five," Flash murmured, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

Twilight and Spike stumbled mid-step, nearly tripping over their own hooves and claws.

"Wait, what? You’re lying!" Spike blurted out, staring at Harry in disbelief.

There was no way that could be true! The Ho-man—or whatever he called himself—didn’t look a day over twenty!

Harry merely shrugged, an amused chuckle escaping his lips.

"My... well, I suppose you could call it my tribe—we age slowly once we reach maturity," he explained casually. "I knew a couple of blokes well over a hundred and thirty who still looked like they were in their prime."

That part wasn’t even an exaggeration. Granted, those particular individuals had some extra advantages—François, the Veela, and Professor Flitwick, a half-goblin, both had longer lifespans thanks to their mixed heritage. But Harry wasn’t too far off from them in that regard. His own circumstances placed him in a similar category, whether he liked it or not.

"...Would you permit me to run some tests?" Twilight asked, her eyes glinting with an unmistakable hunger for knowledge.

Flash and Spike groaned—not exaggerated, but deeply weary. They knew exactly what kind of "tests" she meant, and experience had taught them just how thorough Twilight could be when she got like this.

Harry, however, burst into open laughter, his voice carrying a note of pure understanding.

"Oh, I know that look," he said between chuckles. "You two have my sympathy."

Because he’d been there.

He had seen that same gleam in another pair of brilliant, inquisitive eyes.

Hermione had the exact same expression.

They continue to walk and talk until they reach the hostel where the two would be staying for the time being, not before Harry accepting the purples researcher's request.

Much to her delight and the males pity.

[Cozy Rest Stable]

[Early Morning]

Flash Sentry yawned as he stretched, the familiar stiffness of sleep quickly leaving his limbs. His training had turned him into an early riser, and combined with the fact that he was naturally a morning pony, the moment he sprang out of bed, he was fully awake and ready to go.

"But first—bathroom," he mumbled before heading off to take care of necessities.

When he emerged, he was surprised to find his charge—one Medic Harry (James) Potter—already up and about, preparing something on the room’s small electric stove. The unmistakable aroma of coffee filled the air.

"Wait, where did you get that?" Flash asked, blinking at the small pot of instant coffee bubbling away.

Harry barely glanced up as he gave the mixture a slow stir. "Oh, I brought it with me. You never know when you’ll want a good mug of coffee," he replied, his British accent more pronounced as he took in the rich aroma of freshly brewed caffeine.

Flash raised an eyebrow. "...Okay, first—where did you even keep that? And second—can I have some? I’ll pay if you want," he added, already reaching for his wallet.

Before he could pull out a single bit, a floating mug drifted toward him, held aloft by an unseen force. Flash hesitated for only a second before graciously taking it by the handle.

Harry chuckled. "One: My people have really perfected the science of—let’s call it deep pocketing," he said with a knowing smirk. "And two: you don’t need to pay me. This isn’t even my really good stuff, just my travel supply. Easily replaceable."

Flash nodded in appreciation—

"Just a warning it is quite..."

— And took a cautious sip.

Only for his entire body to jolt as a noise escaped him. A strangled mix between a groan, a wheeze, and a gasp all at once.

Harry smirked, watching with clear amusement as his pegasus guardian recoiled slightly, his expression contorting into something that could only be described as "pony who bit into a raw lemon."

"...bitter," Harry finally finished a smile on his lips, taking a far more composed sip of his own.

Once the initial shock of the bitter coffee subsided, the two fell into easy conversation. But, in true old man fashion, Harry wasted no time going straight for the jugular.

"So!" he began, far too casually. "How long have you and Lady Twilight been courting?"

Flash, who had just taken a sip of water to cleanse his palate from Harry’s questionable brew, promptly choked. He coughed, sputtered, and barely managed to keep himself from spraying the liquid everywhere. After a second of struggling, he cleared his throat and composed himself.

"Cough—What?! No! We—ahem—we are not dating or ‘courting,’ you old geezer," Flash huffed, his wings twitching slightly in irritation. "We’re just… close friends."

The way he trailed off at the end did not go unnoticed.

Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? Could’ve fooled me."

Flash let out a soft, almost wistful chuckle.

"I wish, old man. I wish."

He took another sip of the coffee, this time managing to keep a straight face—mostly. He only scrunched his nose a little.

Harry gave him a long, knowing look but chose to say nothing more.

The conversation drifted to another topic after that.

It took a few more sips, and a more than few scoops of borrow sugar but at the end the coffee was drank and the mugs and pot got cleaned.

Just in time as a rapid series of knocks on the door caught their attention.

"Mister Harry!".- More knock's.

"Mister Harry!".- And more knock's.

"Mister Harry!".- And even more knock's.

The wizard chuckled as he went to open the door.

"I'm coming, i'm coming lass just hold your...".- Here Harry hesitated not sure if the expression he was about to use was offensive in any capacity so he went with: "...hounds."

"... but that's the ranger's job?".- The one who confusly asked behind the door was revealed to be Pinkie Pie, as she was carrying a big bag.

The mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked goods and breakfast betrayed the bags contents.

Harry smile widen, now this was a great way to start the day.