Professor McGonagall skidded to halt as she approached the Hospital Wing. The cat animagus could see a crowd of students already gathered at the Hospital Wing’s doorway — three and four deep. She ducked into an alcove and transformed back to a witch. She took a moment to bring her breathing under control — even as a cat, running that distance was not an easy effort.
She straightened her back and smoothed her hair before storming down the corridor and through the doorway, scattering students like a wind scatters leaves. The smarter ones, not that many, headed back to their dorms, not wanting to attract attention and possibly lose points. The ones who couldn’t control their curiosity crowded close to the open doors, listening and watching.
The knot of short Gryffindor students gathered at the foot of one curtained-off bed made her targets easy to spot. Madam Pomfrey was standing at the foot of a nearby bed with a single student on it, reading the results of a diagnostic charm. Harry spotted her, and nudged one of the girls.
As the Transfiguration professor came up, she heard the Healer saying, “You’re fine. You need to brush your teeth more often and eat a few more vegetables, I’ll notify the house-elves to steer more vegetables to your end of the table. Otherwise you’re fine.” She sounded a bit miffed at delivering such good news. Laying on the bed was Ron Weasley, who wasn’t sure if he should be glad or not at that news.
She looked up with a frustrated expression to Minerva. “They’re all in perfect health! A few pounds underweight, magically low, but otherwise, fine.”
The Deputy Headmistress studied her First Year Gryffindors. They were all grouped around a girl sitting on the other bed, who was laughing and grinning wide enough to almost split her face. She was holding up hand, making a fist, and just staring at it, at the moment.
The girl was wearing a hospital gown and had brown hair and eyes. She appeared to be about fourteen, based on the numerous pimples that decorated her face. She squinted whenever she looked up at one of the surrounding students.
“What happened?” the professor asked the hospital Matron.
The Healer put her hands on her hips and glared at the students on the other side of Myrtle’s bed. “Apparently,” she said frostily, “a Princess Twilight Sparkle sent them a book about ghosts. It had a spell for materializing ghosts. They decided they wanted to see if they could get it to work.”
The other students finally had noticed Professor McGonagall had arrived and were sporting various expressions of guilt, contrition, and worry. She was not surprised to see that the three Atlanteans and Hermione Granger had moved to the back of the cohort and were trying to look innocent, with varying degrees of success. Harry was slightly in front of his three friends and had an expression of resignation.
Madam Pomfrey frowned at Myrtle and said, “It worked brilliantly. My scans show her to be an average fourteen-year-old witch, indistinguishable from any other Fourth Year student physically — although her magic reserves are severely depleted. Understandable considering what happened. Her only flaw is that she has a severe case of acne. However, I have potion which will clear that right up, but she’ll have to wait until her monthly is over before she can take it.” She sighed, and looked over at the professor. “I’m surprised you got here before either Albus or Filius.”
She had no sooner said their names than the two came striding through the Hospital Wing doorway. Professor Flitwick stopped just inside and started shooing away the students gathered there. The threat of points being taken had most of the mob rapidly heading to safer pastures.
Just before he closed the doors, however, a winded and gasping Percy, no longer in his pony form, managed to squeeze inside. The two followed far behind the older wizard already approaching Madam Pomfrey.
“Ah,” said the Headmaster as he came close. He gave a twinkling-eyed look at his two subordinates and then turned to the subject of the hour. “How are you feeling this fine Saturday afternoon, Miss Warren?” He studied her carefully.
Still smiling broadly, the witch hopped off the bed and spun on her toes, arms stretched high over her head. “I’ve never felt better,” she proclaimed joyously.
Professor McGonagall was pleased to note that all the boys were hurriedly inspecting either the floor at their feet or the ceiling above as the witch’s hospital gown fluffed out and inadvertently exposed more of the young witch than a young wizard should properly see.
“Myrtle!” came Hermione’s indignant voice. “There are boys watching!”
The newly resurrected student glanced over and said, “They can look all they want — I feel far too good to care!” Several of the boys looked up, surprised at that statement, then hurriedly returned to examining the floor when they realized their Head of House was watching them. Myrtle might not care, but the gimlet eye that their Head of House was giving them said that she did! And looking would result in swift retribution.
From the corners of his eyes — it was odd how much less he had in the way of peripheral vision as a human — Harry noticed that the fillies were also grinning. And giving him sly looks to see if he had had the nerve to peek at the young witch. They seemed oddly disappointed that he was still resolutely examining his shoes.
Ha! He wasn’t stupid. He knew the adults would respond quickly if they caught him peeking at naked girls, even with their permission. Aunt Petunia had made her opinions on that subject known when he had inquired, as a small child, about why girls wore dresses and boys didn’t. She had taken it to mean something he hadn’t understood at the time, although he had understood the frying pan that had knocked him across the kitchen in the middle of her tirade, to Dudley’s loud braying guffaws.
After living in Equestria where things were a bit more . . . direct, he thought he knew what his Aunt had thought he meant at that time. But he wasn’t in Equestria at the moment. So home rules were expected. He kept a close eye on the adults’ wands and where they were pointed.
Myrtle shook herself happily, “And in a few days I’ll be back to normal . . . .” She glared at Hermione, “You have no idea what it’s like to be stuck at that time of the month for forty-eight years, two months, and twenty-five days!”
Most of the boys look mystified at that comment, but the girls all looked horrified. They might not yet be of age for that sort of thing to be an issue, but they had all heard their mothers and older sisters complain of the experience. And it explained perfectly why Myrtle the ghost had been always so melancholy, quick to take offense, and flee at the slightest excuse. And the crying. The incessant crying. Yeah, that explained a lot.
The adults were a bit more sanguine about it, and amused.
And Harry remembered how Aunt Petunia was always a bit more likely to lose her temper with him once a month.
“Would you care to elucidate what happened?” Dumbledore smiled kindly at Harry, no doubt taking in the reactions of the rest of the First Years in trying to avoid his gaze.
“Well,” Harry said, “After Scootaloo accidentally informed Professor Binns that he was dead, we wrote to Twilight and asked if she had any books on ghosts.” Harry blinked, thinking. “There aren’t any ghosts at home,” he said. “But I know they have books about Nightmare Night,” he paused, uncertainly, “that’s their version of Halloween, you see, so we thought she might.”
He shifted nervously, “She did. We got them,” he stopped and looked at his friends. “Wednesday morning? Yeah, Wednesday morning, and we’ve been reading them since then.” He sighed and looked out the windows. “After lunch, Hermione suggested we try out some of the spells.”
Hermione gave him a betrayed look.
۸-ꞈ-۸
“It’ll be fun! New spells that no one else knows about! We aren’t doing anything against the rules. What could go wrong?” Hermione pleaded.
They exchanged looks. It sounded okay. And it wasn’t like they had anything else planned for the afternoon.
The three fillies looked at each other and grinned. “Cutie Mark Crusader Spiritualists,” they yelled, slapping their hands at each other in a failed high-five. Harry reluctantly added his hand to the group.
The few students left in the Great Hall gave them questioning looks, as did several of the students in their group.
“But who can we get to try them on?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“We could ask Nearly Headless Nick,” suggested Ron, looking around to see if he was visible. He wasn’t.
“Oh! That’s a good idea!” said Hermione enthusiastically. “There’s a spell for summoning a ghost if you know his or her name. Come on!” She shoved her Spells for Ghosts — If They Were Real back into her rucksack, swung her legs over the bench and stood.
The rest of the cohort followed her out into the Entry Hall and up the staircase. After a few minutes walking, she went into an empty classroom. “This one isn’t in use,” she said them as they followed her. “This way we won’t make a mess that will upset a professor.”
“So, the first spell is . . . ,” she said, after taking Spells for Ghosts — If They Were Real, out of her rucksack, which she had set on the desk at the head of the room.
“Here it is.” She set the book down with one finger to hold it open and studied it carefully. She sighed and looked at her wand. “Okay, I’m not sure how to cast this with a wand, but here goes.” She held her wand in front of her and her brow creased as she carefully intoned, “I summon the one known to me as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington!”
Nothing happened, except the tip of her wand glowed slightly. She stood still, unmoving, maintaining her stance, her face set in concentration.
Suddenly, Scootaloo yelped as something frigidly cold swept through her. Everyone jumped, but then a white form took shape in front of Hermione. It was Nick, looking quite confused.
“It worked! It worked!” Hermione said, hopping up and down excitedly.
“I say,” said Nick, looking around in surprise, “What is this?”
“Oh,” Hermione said, still excited, but no longer hopping like a demented pre-teen. “We have this new book!” She pointed at it. “From their homeland,” she pointed at the Atlanteans. “And it has all sorts of spells about ghosts and we wanted to try them to see if they really worked, but we didn’t know where to find a ghost, but the book has a summoning spell, so I used it, and here you are. Would you mind helping us with the other spells, please?” She clasped both hands together and tried to imitate the begging looks she had seen the three Atlanteans use so effectively the previous month at the Weasleys. “Pretty please?”
Nick floated back and looked across the group of students, all of whom had similar pleading expressions. A smile touched his lips. “It has been a long time since anyone has asked me for a favour,” he said. “I believe I can be of service. What is it you wish to attempt?”
There followed almost an entire hour of different spells being cast by everyone in the group. Harry, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle even tried them as unicorns to see if there was a difference. There was. As before, spells just seemed easier coming out of their horns.
“Sir Nicholas,” Hermione said matter-of-factly, “you told us that you died when a headsman chopped your head off, but he didn’t quite do the job properly.”
“That is true, my dear,” Sir Nick said sadly, flopping his over dramatically.
“So,” she hesitated, “did you die immediately?”
He pushed his head back upright and stopped still, as still as only a ghost can be, and stared at her.
Just as she began to fidget, he sighed. “No, my dear, I did not.”
The entire room gasped.
He stared at her, then at the rest of the room.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, there’s this one spell in here,” Hermione gestured at the book on the desk, “that says it can materialize a ghost.”
Sir Nick perked up at that statement.
“But it has a qualification. It materializes them as they were just moments before they died.”
Sir Nick narrowed his eyes and stared at her.
“So,” she swallowed, intimidated by the look she was getting — she didn’t have the experience with that that the CMC did — and continued, “If you died immediately, then the spell would materialize you to just before the axe hit you. But if you died a minute or so later, then it would materialize you to just after the headsman had cut your head mostly off.” She glanced out the window and turned a bit green. “Which would be very messy, and you would die because we don’t know any spells to help you.”
He stared at her a few moments longer, then slowly nodded. “I see. Yes, that would be very bad. Very bad, indeed. I don’t think I would like that very much.”
The ghost sighed. He clearly didn’t want to talk about the subject, but there would be consequences if he did not.
He settled a bit lower to the ground, almost as if he were sitting. “Death seldom comes instantly,” he said sadly. “Your brain needs blood and air to live, but dying rarely instantly stops that from happening. A sword to the heart still leaves the heart beating for several moments, and it takes a while for the brain to use up the store of air in the blood it already has. Poison can take several minutes to completely kill you. Drowning takes several minutes.” He stopped and looked at their stricken faces.
“I have heard,” he said carefully, “from muggle-born students that the muggles have revived people who officially had no heart-beats and had taken no breaths for several minutes. People who, by all rights, would have been declared dead when I was alive.”
The muggle-born all nodded as their friends looked at them uncertainly.
“So, when the headsman did his duty, I did not die immediately. I fear, as you suggested, that if you were to attempt that spell on me, none of us would be pleased with the result.”
They stood quietly, thinking. Several of them looked slightly nauseous.
“So,” Hermione said, “this spell is useless.”
“No, my dear,” Sir Nick said. “Not useless, just very limited. A drowning victim, a poisoning victim, someone who didn’t die from extreme physical violence, all those could benefit.” He smiled sadly at her. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for thinking of me, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t help me.” He started to fade from sight, drifting towards the ceiling.
He stopped.
“You might ask Myrtle Elizabeth Warren, in the second-floor girls’ toilets. Her death was rather dramatic. And instant.”
He faded out completely as he went into the ceiling.
After a few minutes to discuss the matter, the Gryffindor First Year cohort decamped to the second-floor girl’s toilets. The girls had all heard of Moaning Myrtle, with the dire warnings to leave her alone! They spent part of the trip explaining what they knew to the boys.
While the subject matter had been depressing, the thought that maybe they really could bring someone back to life was exciting. And got more-so the closer they got to Myrtle’s haunts.
Fortunately, she was “home.” Not that that home was inviting. It was the gloomiest, most depressing set of toilets Harry had ever seen. On one wall was a large, cracked, spotted mirror, above a row of chipped sinks. The room was barely lit by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders. The floor was damp, and the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched. One of them was dangling off its hinges.
“What are all of you doing in my toilets?” she demanded, hands on transparent hips. “And you boys,” she added pointing. “You’re not supposed to be here!”
Hermione took a breath and stepped forward. “Myrtle, how did you die? That’s why we’re here. We want to know everything you remember!”
A few minutes later, after an overly theatrical and dramatic recreation of her death, Myrtle was in a much better mood.
“So,” Hermione said, “You died instantly? No difficulty breathing, no bleeding? Just, one second you’re glaring at these eyes glaring back at you and the next, you’re dead?”
The ghost nodded eagerly. “Yes, just like that.” She grinned, “And then I made Olive Hornby regret ever picking on me! Her and her friends both! I made them all miserable, just like they did me.” She grinned evilly at them. “There’s nothing like floating through someone at three in the morning and listening to them scream in surprise at the sudden waking.” She laughed a laugh that would do a cartoon villain proud. “And after doing that several nights in a row, they spend the next few nights in sleepless dread waiting for the next time. Only, I didn’t do it! Oh, yes, they regretted teasing me.”
The entire cohort decided not to get on Moaning Myrtle’s bad side. Especially if she stayed a ghost.
Hermione carefully explained what they wanted to do. And what Sir Nick had said.
Myrtle stared at her. “You mean I could be a real person again?”
“We think so. All the spells in the book,” she hefted it in her hand, “have worked perfectly.” She gave a little hop of joy.
Myrtle stared at her intently. And then looked at the rest of them. They could see she was thinking it over.
“But why would I want to do that?” she said. “My life here at Hogwarts was horrible! For four years I had no friends, and everyone looked down on me for being a muggle-born.” She sighed. “The only real fun I had was tormenting Olive Hornby and her friends after I died.” She grinned. “That was the most fun I’d ever had. I made her fail potions by invisibly sticking my finger in her cauldron when her OWLS came around.”
“We’ll be your friends,” said Scootaloo. “We know what it’s like to be teased.” The other two fillies and Harry nodded. “We won’t let you down.”
She stared at them a moment. “I’m a Ravenclaw, and you’re Gryffindors. I’m in Fourth Year and you’re all ickle Firsties.”
They shrugged their shoulders. “So?”
She studied them a bit longer. “My family was told I was dead.”
“So, we’ll be your family,” Apple Bloom said. “You can come stay with us during holidays.”
They all nodded.
“You’re siblings?” She giggled.
“No,” Harry said. Then the four proceeded to introduce themselves. “And I know that Princess Sparkle would never say no to you staying in the castle,” Harry put in. “Especially if you can’t return to your family.”
“And we know you’ll like our home a lot, you can do all the magic you want and no will complain!” said Sweetie Belle. The rest of the cohort looked at them enviously. And made a promise to themselves to get invited over during the hols.
“You’re Harry Potter,” she said slowly. “The famous Harry Potter.”
He scowled. “Yes, that’s me. But I didn’t do anything, my parents did.”
“And I can live with you?” she asked cautiously.
“Whichever one of us you want to live with, we’d be happy to take you in.”
“And we got plenty of bits, so you’ll not have to worry about buying things you need,” Scootaloo said.
“I promise, you won’t regret it!” added Sweetie Belle.
Myrtle suddenly frowned and started to look angry. “This is all a joke, isn’t it? Let’s prank Myrtle! She’ll fall for this! She’s always good for a laugh!” She spun in place, as if to run off.
“No! It’s true! I swear! I Pinkie Promise it’s true!” said Sweetie Belle.
Myrtle stopped and looked her. “Pinkie Promise?” she said sceptically, “You’re having me on!” She was getting angrier.
“Cross my heart,” Sweetie Belle said quickly, making a cross sign over her heart, “and hope to fly,” she mimicked flying by flapping her wrists, “stick a cupcake in my eye,” she pretended to smash something in her eye. “We think we can use this spell to materialize you!”
Harry, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom all nodded their heads quickly while the rest of the cohort stared at Sweetie Belle as if she were barking barmy.
“What?” Myrtle said, flummoxed now, and no longer angry.
“Oh,” Scootaloo said, “nobody would dare break a Pinkie Promise!”
Harry gulped, “Yeah, you do that . . . .”
There was a growl from the other end of the room. Turning, they saw Pinkie Pie’s head coming out of one of the furthest sinks. “Losing a friend's trust is the fastest way to lose a friend . . . FOREVER!” she yelled the last word, glaring at them as she slowly sank back out of sight into the sink. The room seemed to shimmer for a moment.
The fillies and Harry shuddered. “Yeah,” Apple Bloom said, “That!”
Myrtle stared at the empty sink. She floated over to it and looked down into it. She drifted back to them, still staring at the sink. She turned to face Sweetie Belle.
She slowly nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.” She gave a sad laugh. “It’s not like I really like my life right now, now is it?”
Following the directions in the books, and first scourgifying the floor thoroughly, the cohort quickly drew a ritual circle, using salt Harry and the fillies took from their potions’ kits — which required a quick run to their dorm. Then Harry, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle transformed into unicorns, startling the ghost.
“Oh,” she said, “You’re so cute and adorable!”
“I think I should be the one to give the drop of blood,” Sweetie Belle said to Hermione. Harry understood why she was volunteering, she was the only true unicorn in the castle! And while the spell would probably work just fine using only a witch's blood, why take an unnecessary chance?
The three of them argued until they decided on a compromise. Both girls would donate a bit of blood — Harry didn’t because, as Hermione put it, “You’re a boy, and who knows what adding a boy’s blood to the mix will do?”
They all book-walked the spell, to Myrtle’s intense jealousy at seeing the spell in action. And to make sure they all understood exactly what was expected to happen, and when.
“I want to be a person again just so I can use that spell,” she declared before they started.
Hermione read the book out to them to make sure they were following the directions exactly while the other two did the actual casting — they had pulled rank. “We’ve been using unicorn magic a lot longer than you have,” was the argument they used.
With the circle drawn, the unicorns took their places as the rest of the cohort watched from the edges of the room. They had their wands out, slightly glowing with magic, ready to cast protective shields should they need to do so. Or to assist if more magic was needed.
Which it had been. Not much, just that when the three unicorns started to show a strain, the others had added a bit of their own.
۸- ̫ -۸
When Harry had finished with his explanation, with some additional comments by others, The Headmaster turned and studied his new student sympathetically.
“Excuse me, Miss Warren, may I cast a few spells?” he asked the witch.
“Certainly, Headmaster,” came the cheerful reply.
The students watched in silence as the old wizard cast one spell after another for several minutes, only pausing long enough to study the results of each. Hermione looked awed at the spells being cast with such precision and rapidity. Her fingers were twitching as if she wanted to note down everything she saw.
Harry tried to use what Twilight had taught him, but the spells were too complex, or cast too quickly for him to grasp more than the barest of outlines.
Finally, Dumbledore stopped and considered the young witch, eyes twinkling. “First of all, Miss Warren, let me be among the first to congratulate you on your return to the land of the living.” He bowed.
Laughing, she curtseyed, and, in pulling against her gown as she did so, brought blushes and nervous glances elsewhere from the boys behind her. “Thank you, Professor. I can honestly say I couldn’t be happier myself.”
Continuing, the Headmaster said, “Professor Flitwick, as Head of Ravenclaw House,” he indicated the short professor, who bowed slightly, “will take care of introducing you to the rest of your House, and making arrangements to allow you to complete your education. I’ll ask the house-elves to see if they can retrieve your belongings from storage. I believe we saved everything.” He smiled gently. “I’ll also contact the Ministry to see if I can get your wand returned. If not, then Professor Flitwick will accompany you in replacing your belongings and wand. And again, welcome back. I look forward to seeing you pass your OWLS and NEWTs, at last.” He nodded at her, still smiling, then turned his attention to the Gryffindor students.
“Might I see this wondrous book?” he asked, eyes twinkling and a smile on his lips, his eyebrows raised hopefully.
The Equestrians and Hermione exchanged looks, then Hermione said, “Of course, Headmaster. But it does belong to Princess Sparkle. She only loaned us the books from the Ponyville library.” She knelt down and reached into her rucksack. A moment later, she stood and held a book out to him. Its title was, Spells for Ghosts — If They Were Real.
“Books?” he repeated back as he took the one he was offered.
“Oh, yes, sir, she sent us three books, the other two are,” she said and again knelt down to rummage in her rucksack. “The other two are Ghosts, Fact or Fiction? and Ghostly Spells,” she explained holding them up for him to see. “This one,” she explained, lifting up Ghostly Spells slightly higher, “is mostly illusion spells and spells that make things scary — you know, say things in a scary voice, make things give off spooky lights and sounds, like for Halloween parties.” She frowned. “Although it appears they call it Nightmare Night. A few are supposed to detect ghosts if they are hiding.” She glanced at the other Gryffindors. “Nick was kind enough to let us try some of them on him and they all seemed to work just fine, except the ones that we didn’t want to try. They were rather insulting, honestly.”
Dumbledore looked up from reading the introductory text in the book he held and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
“Oh,” she said, “Some of the spells were to see if he was malevolent or had died while under a geas or curse. And, of course, we didn’t want to use any of the spells that might bind or exorcize him.”
Dumbledore nodded in understanding.
“And Ghosts, Fact or Fiction? is just a bunch of stories and legends about ghosts, with only a few spells to detect or exorcise them. And the spells were mostly the same as the ones in Ghostly Spells — which is an older book — or were very similar in intent,” she concluded.
“Might I borrow this?” the Headmaster asked, lifting slightly the book he was holding.
Hermione looked over at Harry uncertainly, her question to him obvious.
Harry shrugged. “I don’t think Twilight would mind, but it would be better to ask first,” he said hesitantly.
She nodded. “I think I had better ask her first, Headmaster,” she said respectfully and apologetically, half-fearing he might be offended and get upset with her.
He nodded. “I’ll give this back to you after dinner, then,” he said, “and we can owl her about me keeping it for a longer time to read.”
Relieved that the Headmaster hadn’t been offended at her request, Hermione nodded eagerly.
Harry frowned. The Headmaster had made it appear as if he were honouring her wish to ask Twilight, but at the same time he was borrowing the book for the rest of the afternoon! He should have returned it to her immediately. He barely restrained himself from saying anything. Wizards. You just couldn’t trust them! He’d bet his entire share of their bank account that the Headmaster would make a copy of their book before they got it back.
“Now, then,” the old wizard continued, “What spell was it that you used?”
“It’s on page ninety-seven, sir. After seven pages of explanations.”
He flipped to the back of the slim volume. “Ah, yes,” he said, “I see.” He flipped back to the chapter’s beginning and started reading. “Hm,” he said, softly. “I see.” He looked up at the students watching him intently. “Well, then, carry on.” He turned and headed for the doors still reading the book. He stopped after a few steps.
“Oh, Professor Filius?”
“Yes, Albus?”
“After you get Miss Warren settled in, please come see me.”
“Of course.”
۸- ̫ -۸
i doubt they had potions for that (or fumbledork forbade them in canon)back then so this makes her attitude as a ghost make even more sense than the whole "got murdered" explanation alone did.
...someone needs to confront dumbledor before this sort of thing gets out of hand.
Well... I’ll be honest I’d probably do the same if I came across an interesting book that violates the laws of the natural world
Okay I’ll wait for permission but let me just read it now?
Nice
Also, shouldn't the title be "Don't Tease, Myrtle"? The comma is important.
9196982
Get over it he wasn't even headmaster when she was a student.
More strange spells from Atlantis
quick little nitpick... correct me if I'm wrong but I always thought it was "Nightmare Night" not "Nightmare Moon Night"... Either way, I think Nightmare Moon Night is a little bit of a mouthful.
That would explain so much if it was canon.
And Pinkie, never change.
Wow, Harry really has become a brat hasn't he? I'm still hopeful that someone at Hogwarts can do something about his and the CMC's attitude.
9197025
it is just nightmare night, but it is based on nightmare moon so maybe Tkepner thought it more fitting as nightmare moon night, but like you said that is more of a mouthful.
That explains a LOT.
The blood of an unicorn. So hardly repeatable... Unless you're equestrian
Made sense. Not resurrecting per se, but effectively became. I wonder if there are ghosts in equestria, abeid rare? It would explain the books more than theoretical works.
Pinkie is such eldritch horror
Well this is going to make all the teachers want to visit Atlantis very shortly. I wonder how fast the truth will get out, my bet is before Christmas.
But when she starts describing her death wouldn't they find the Chamber of Secrets faster
9197058
this probably leads to dumbledore sending the house elf that TKepner was talking about before when he was asking what one would look like in equestria.
9197059
there not hunting for it, so the connections haven't been met yet.
I've heard of a walkthrough, but that's a bit different.
Hm. If someone had the math skillzors:
Forty-eight years, two months, and twenty-five days
Minus the Eleven years of Harry's life
Makes thirty seven years since Tom Riddle went to Hogwarts, plus or minus whatever year he was in when the Chamber of Secrets was first opened.
Also making Hagrid 48+11 (at least) years old, or fifty-nine at the beginning of the first book.
Well well, so he has an Equestrian book detailing Equestrian culture. I wonder if this will be the moment where he connects the dots and realizes that these outsiders are from a wee bit more 'outside' than he initially expected.
How did Dumbledore”s sister die?
I would probably copy it too even though it would be unethical. Cause I’ve become jaded and selfish....
Well... That book might give a lot away if it mentions the tribe of the ghost... and considering some specifics a spell might have about caster and requirements..
9197005
It's a bit of an underhanded angle to go with, I think it would be much fairer if he simply asked to skim the book to make sure there aren't any spells that really shouldn't be cast without permission first. After all, he is the one who is the headmaster of a school full of ghosts and children. The spells might do dangerous things, so it's his responsibility to know first. I'm pretty sure that angle would have worked better.
9197028
You're kidding, right? The headmaster having that book might reveal secrets that the Equestrians don't want to be revealed. Twilight should probably be the one to consider that question. Dumbledore just fast-talked his way around that worry concerning first year students. Harry's attitude and worry is fully justified. Plus, he knows that Albus Dumbledore is someone who plays fast and loose with the truth and has his own agenda. The ponies probably discussed that in detail in private. A discussion Hermione (whom is borrowing the books) wasn't privy too.
And despite noticing this, Harry didn't make a scene. How is that bratty?
What could that man be up to?
9197016
no, no, no, you misunderstand. this isn't a dig at evil dumbledore (i know, shocker). if they had this potion back then it would have been new. even the most careless instructor could not in good conscious allow an untested potion amongst students. it was undoubtedly months after Myrtle's death before they would have allowed it in Hogwarts. also, i was totally shocked to learn i was the first person to comment on this chapter.
So Dumbledore's going to try and bring the Potters back? Here I was thinking he'd just try to correct the effects of the Dursley's "care" on Harry's body with a super healing potion or something.
9197057
All you gotta do is take a cup of flour...
The idea that Myrtle has been stuck in the emotional state of her period for all this time makes way too much sense.
Also, Dumbledore acting like he just expects everything to go his way is setting him up for a tremendous fall later on.
I'm enjoying this arc tremendously, now that we're out of the worldbuilding / relationship-building phase of Equestria meets Earth.
9197106
Interesting angle (bringing the Potters, and others killed by the killing curse back), but I think you need to have access to their ghosts first.
It might be an interesting connection with the resurrection stone, but Dumbledore doesn't have access to that.
Everyone is a few pounds underweight? Presumably Neville as well, since everyone does everything as a group? Did the spell physically construct her body using their bodies as a source of materials, equivalent exchange style?
I refreshed the page a dozen times today, looking for this update.
9197028
He's not wrong, though. If you had your mother's car, and I asked if I could borrow it, and your response was that I should ask your mother, would you expect that I would borrow the car until I found out if I had permission? Yes, there's a difference between a book and a car, but it's still what happened.
Edit: ninja'd by 9197098
Okay, well we know that Equestrian unicorn blood does possess some arguably similar effects to garden variety unicorn blood. These children just skyrocketed into Quirrel's radar, I think. Also, three cheers for Myrtle, the
eternallyformerly PMSing ghost! Excellent chapter!9197106
Kinda need a ghost for the spell to work, and as far as we've seen the Potters didn't stick around as ghosts.
9197028
Harry is right here. Dumbledore asked for a permission, and then acted without waiting for a yes. Propably does not mean go ahead.
9197107
no no no. flour isn't enough. you need a pile/ring (the circle kind, not the finger kind) of sugar/candy/sweets (yes, there is a distinction as any confectioner will tell you) as well otherwise you are more likely to summon Donut Joe or Maud coming to see why you are bothering her sister.
9197123
It was meant to be a Cupcakes joke.
9197114
That might be the safe way to do it, alright.
9197125
and you missed the point of my continuation. i would laugh heartily at Maud glaring at anyone for trying to bother Pinkie and getting her instead (unless i was the one who did it in which case i would run for the hills).
9197025
9197031
For some reason I see that as the (90's) British version of the name. One of those minor things in HP fanfiction when you suddenly realize that the characters use some different phrases than most of the internet.
9197059
9197070
Myrtle really doesn't have enough information to make any connection. All she saw were some eyes, and that doesn't even really imply that those were the cause of her death. Besides, everyone assumes that whatever happened back then is decades past being any danger to students.
A spell that can materialize ghosts...
And it's in a spell book that the 'Atlanteans' are comfortable handing out to school children...
Seems to me that the Nicolas Flannel's little rock is going to come in second place on the list of 'Thinks the Dark Lord is Going To Be Interested In.'
One of a kind magical maggufin vs standard issue library book... I can see why Dumbeldore might be a weeeeeee bit concerned...
I'm only confused on one detail due to the language of the spell saying "materialization", is there a duration set for it or is it an instant permanent effect? None of the power casters are detecting anything but that could just be due to the spell creating a passing facsimile of life. Of course the only way to check would be to use some manner of some manner of spell nullification on Myrtle and I suspect she'd be against any experiment that would potentially 'kill her' again.
Then again this spell did include unicorn blood (even if it was a foreign breed compared to what wizards are used to) and the HP world did establish that unicorn blood can give life if I recall correctly. And Nick's speech does imply that this isn't a ritual that could be easily repeated on other ghosts due to 'unique' circumstances involved.
I guess Dumbledore's letter to Twilight will be rather long... I guess from content of the book he can deduce that either all Atlanteans are animagi that can turn into pony or that they are magical ponies that can turn into humans. I wan't be surprise if he will stick to the first idea, since that will easier to plug into his worldview.
9197119
Would that stop him from trying? Also, wasn't there a summoning spell? Would that even work on ghosts that passed on?
If it does, he might try to bring his sister back.
Was pinkie human or pony at the time?
9197184
It's Pinkie Pie. Therefore the answer to your question is "yes".
Too true I hope that Equestriains use copyright protection spells.
EDIT: now I think of it I can imagine Twilight putting an array of protection spells on her precious books, especially any that she lends out and doubly so for the CMC (with high strength sap repelling charms.)
9197122
Dumbledore didn't have to ask. He could have confiscated that book flat-out, and probably should have. And then sent a strongly-worded letter to Twilight asking her not to send potentially dangerous books to reckless and unapologetic children.
The point is, Harry is complaining about Dumbledore fast-talking his way into having the book, when he and his friends are flaunting multiple school rules and rules-lawyering the rest like spoiled brats.
9197117
Except you're driving the car, while underage. And you don't know how to drive. And the car has never been serviced. I'm not saying Dumbledore was wholly justified, but they're using spells he doesn't know about to circumvent the rules he just put in place. Unless he wants to add a rule that they can't do anything, he has to know what they can do.
9197098
Because he acts like he's entitled to that consideration. Yes, Dumbledore fast-talked them into letting him borrow their book, when he could have just as easily confiscated it and read it anyway (and should have, given they were using spells he didn't know existed to skirt rules in a way they knew would get them in trouble). To be blunt, Harry doesn't care at all about Hogwarts or its rules, and yet he expects a degree of autonomy and respect that he has demonstrated he doesn't deserve.