This room in St. Mungo's was a typical standard room. It had an adjustable bed, a small bedside table, and a high-backed visitor's chair. The walls were a sterile white, without even a hint of decoration. In short, it was very much the same as its brethren; it was a place most people would go out of their way to avoid.

What made the room noteworthy was its occupant. Her reputation drew rumors like flies to honey. Her presence drew stares like an automobile accident. Her mind drew a disturbing conclusion; she would have had more visitors if she were still in Azkaban.

Her family had visited, but she could swear they stayed only as long as they were obligated. One dear sister had insisted that she had her hands full minding children. She had claimed she would spend more time once the train had departed for Hogwarts. The woman knew better than to believe such a transparent lie.

The other dear sister apparently worked at the hospital. That sister would visit sporadically, sharing a sentence or two before dashing off. It was clear something was weighing on her mind. It didn't take clairvoyance to deduce what that was.

Her cousin had reluctantly graced her with a single visit. He was now lord of the house of her birth. He had borne news of the annulment of her marriage. He had borne news of her reinstatement into House Black. He had obviously not wanted to stay a second longer than necessary before leaving with his childhood friend. Mercifully, that meeting had been brief. She had no illusions as to what awaited her; he had borne news that when she returned, she would find her room exactly as she had left it. No doubt he knew that the room was her last message to her dear father.

Although her time in Azkaban had also been a lonely existence, the hospital exuded an aura of tranquility that promoted introspection. For the first time in many years, she could now reflect on her childhood and the indelible impression her father had left during her formative years. He had taught her sisters and her the same lesson: they were less than worthless. They had committed the unforgivable crime of being female. Without a son to carry on the family name, they were just burdens to be endured until they could be fobbed off on unsuspecting fools.

As night turns to day, so, too, did her thoughts shift from her father to her mother. It was she who had made childhood bearable. It was she who had provided them with the love that her father had denied. It was she who taught them what was needed to comport oneself as a high-born lady. It was she who had nurtured them, providing the affection and knowledge they would need to be successful with their lives.

The most important lesson was the keystone of her plots and schemes. Men were fundamentally worthless. They were selfish, self-absorbed, uncaring creatures with little, if any, utility beyond their basic biological function. They were meant to be used and discarded.

As a true Slytherin, she had multiple schemes in motion, each triggered by an impediment to her ultimate goal. Each was set to move her closer to her inevitable conclusion. One plan that had borne fruit had earned her a hefty upgrade in both accommodations and diet.

She smiled ruefully as she contemplated the upgrade. Instead of dwelling with the damned, she now lay among the sick and dying. Instead of what barely qualified as edible, she now had hospital food. Admittedly, she'd always have more room for that fruity gelatin. The rest of the fare, however, she'd have rejected if things had been normal.

Biding her time had been fruitful in other ways. She knew that patience was her friend. There had been nights when she had contemplated subtly directing the fools toward the family vault. Such thoughts were unworthy of a Slytherin. Such a move would surely sink her stratagem.

As she lay in her bed, she could now contemplate the only man she had found worthy of her time. He was perfect in mind, body, and spirit. In her mind's eye, she could see the rugged handsomeness of his powerful body. Even now, she could practically feel his virility reaching out across the miles. He would rule the wizarding world as it should be led.

It turned out that the timing was perfect; she was free exactly when she needed to be.

With a forlorn glitter in her eyes, she turned her gaze to the south and issued a small pout.

A smile crept over her face. If anyone had been present, that expression would have given them nightmares for the rest of their days.

As he stole a glance at the large, perforated paddle that hung above the desk in the tidy office, he could not help but think how on some days he hated coming to school. He could swear most of the teachers hated him. He could swear all the students hated him. Still, he had to come in every school day. After all, he was the headmaster.

He already knew it was going to be one of those days. It wasn't even lunch time, and things had already gone off the rails. Getting a direct call from the Secretary of State for Education had been a complete shock. Protocol dictated that he should have been given time to prepare for a meeting with the boss of bosses. There was something fundamentally wrong about such a high official chatting with a common primary school headmaster as if they were nearly peers.

The call had come just in time to introduce the observer for the interview. The secretary had assured him that this was simply a precautionary measure. The fact that the observer was the country's leading expert in child psychology was supposed to be of no importance.

The headmaster sighed as he waited patiently. His guest was seated in the chair against the wall to his left. Despite the man's causal clothing, he exuded an air of importance. The headmaster could not recall the last time he had been so stressed over a meeting with one of his students. The wait was already ratcheting up the tension to unbearable levels. Still, he had to project a calm demeanor. It simply would not do for the headmaster to be more nervous than the student.

He mustered his poise when Mrs. Yorkshire ushered the girl in question into his office. With a smile he did not feel in his chest, he dismissed the teacher and gestured for the student to enter and take the seat in front of his desk.

“Good morning, Miss Thomas,” the headmaster said encouragingly. “Please be at ease; you are not in any kind of trouble.”

As he expected, the headmaster could practically see the tension in the room tighten like a garrote.

“Y-you wanted to see m-me, Mr. Smith?” the girl stammered out as she took the proffered seat. She sent the visitor sitting next to the wall a curious look.

“Yes, Miss Thomas.” The headmaster nodded. “We need to discuss your choice of transportation this morning. There have been several concerns raised.”

Inwardly, Mr. Smith relaxed a little; the girl hadn’t completely lost her spirit.

“That is not what is at issue here,” the headmaster said. “Rather it is a question of your safety. I am well aware that broom riding is a beginner’s class at the school your brother attends. This leads me to contemplate the wisdom of allowing you to continue to fly one to school.”

“Training brooms have safety spells on them,” the girl explained. “People ride them all the time before going to Hogwarts.”

“Oh?” The headmaster arched an eyebrow. “What kind of safety spells does the broom you rode have?”

“Dean says it has a plus ten percent rating for avoiding rampaging pixies,” Eva returned.

‘You wouldn’t be saying that if you were being chased by a horde of rampaging pixies,” the girl returned.

“I’m afraid you are not helping your case,” Mr. Smith replied. “The fact remains that your safety remains in doubt. There is more potential for injury here than, say, crashing a bicycle. This is a low-flying aircraft.”

“You’re not going to allow me to ride my broom to school anymore,” Miss Thomas said with an accusatory pout. The tightness in her voice clearly showed the strain of trying to sound calm.

“Not without first consulting your parents as well as some experts from the magical society,” The headmaster stated firmly. “No doubt the Civil Aviation Authority will want a say. The broom shall be staying in my office until one of your parents comes to collect it. This is not punishment; this is merely a precaution. I hope it will prove to be unnecessary, but I do not see it that way right now.”

Eva pouted at him, her disappointment clear on her expression, but she held her tongue.

The headmaster glanced down at the list of questions his visitor had requested that he ask. “So, Miss Thomas, are you a pony? Be subtle,” he read.

Miss Thomas gaped at him, and the headmaster noted that his visitor looked like he was valiantly refraining from performing a facepalm. Glancing down again, he saw that the question was followed by ‘Be subtle’ in parentheses. Well, he hadn’t checked that box, now had he.

“N-not at the moment, I’m not,” Miss Thomas finally managed to rasp out in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "Excuse me. I'm just a little hoarse."

“Mmm hmm.” The headmaster nodded. “I should inform you that your younger sister transformed in her classroom earlier this morning.”

“She did,” the headmaster said. “Apparently, she can support a classmate’s weight, airborne, for a good fifteen seconds.”

“No harm done,” the headmaster said. “We want to make it completely clear that none of our equine friends need worry over attending our schools. All are welcome and will be treated like any other student, barring any necessary and reasonable accommodations, which will be reviewed.”

On the return from the winter holiday, the atmosphere on the Hogwarts Express was supposed to be one of gloom and resignation. The inundation of new students added an electric atmosphere that was normally associated with the beginning of the school year. If there was one thing that Faye's experience as prefect had taught her, it was that change often meant trouble. She was determined to check every compartment, just to head it off before it got out of hand.

A green-haired boy said, "Hello. How may I help you?" Fay raised an eyebrow; this was clearly the first pony boy whom she had seen."

Fay quickly took note of the compartment's occupants as she replied. "I'm just doing a routine inspection. With all the new students, I wanted to be sure everyone was settling in." Turning to the girl with the lilac hair, she said, "How was your break, Miss Tiara?"

“Very profitable,” the young Slytherin replied. “If not for the cake, I’d say it was excellent.”

“Yes.” The last Malfoy shuddered as he answered for his betrothed. “Cupcakes and teeth don’t mix well.”

“You wouldn’t think so if you had been there,” Silver Spoon said with a shiver.

“Right then,” Fay answered. “I can see that there isn’t any activity I should be concerned about going on in here. I’ll just be on my way.”

“Goodbye,” said the children as the door slid shut. Faye was still contemplating the strange conversation when she knocked on the next compartment's door.

“Ah,” Fay said, sliding the door open and doing a quick head count. “I see you all managed to squeeze in here.”

“There’s plenty of room,” Potter said, lifting his head from where it had been lying on Patil’s barrel.

“The ceiling certainly isn’t crowded,” said Bates, who was snuggled against the Minister’s daughter.

“Starting to regret her learning your name, aren’t you?” Finnigan said without bothering to open his eyes.

“I’ll manage,” Fay said. “That’s an awful lot of puffskein you have there,” she noted.

“They’re gifts from the townsponies,” said Scootaloo, presenting one in her upturned hoof. “Here try holding one close to your face.”

“Do I look like I was born yesterday?” Fay asked. “I prefer my nostrils unviolated, if you don’t mind.”

Fay chuckled. “Try to stay out of trouble,” she said, sliding the door shut. She started to continue to the next compartment before thinking better of it. She pulled a handkerchief out of her robe pocket and transfigured it into a plaque which she attached to the door with a sticking charm.

Warning!

Toxic levels of cuteness within

Enter at your own risk

The tension in the laboratory was palpable. When the idea for the project was conceived, the woman in the lab coat had rationalized that there would be time to finish later. It was now later. She deeply regretted not having finished earlier.

If she were being completely honest with herself, she would admit that she had made the right decision. Her old self would have spent the past few weeks sequestered until the project was finished. Her current self had realized there were more important things. Family was at the top of the list; the break had been a time to make memories with them. Her heart and her head simply could not focus on anything else at the time.

She cursed the irony that thoughts of family were now driving her to finish yesterday, if not sooner. With laser-like focus, she had thrown herself into her work. While she knew that the apparatus would likely not be needed for months, she also knew it was a crucial defense for her son and his friends. She would not leave them vulnerable.

She started slightly at the voice. When had her husband come in? She could have sworn she was alone. "Huh? What?"

"Are you all right?" Sirius repeated. "You've been staring off at nothing since I got here."

Twilight sighed as she set down the thaumatic heterodyne transmitter she had been holding. "I'm sorry, Sirius. It's just that I miss Spike so much. Ever since I was a filly, he's always been there with me. I still can't accept that he's left for school."

“Empty nest syndrome is bad enough when you're prepared for it,” Nissy said.

Twilight whipped her head around to face the speaker. How could the woman have come in without her noticing?

Twilight looked at her work instead of at the woman. “I know he’ll be back. I’m just being silly.”

Twilight practically gave herself whiplash when she turned to face him. He was here too? She must have really been lost in her thoughts.

Tears trickled from her eyes. “Part of me is so angry that he abandoned me. Another part has never felt sadness like this before. What’s left is so proud that he showed such initiative.” Twilight took a deep breath. “I’m being selfish, and I’m hating myself for it.”

“Sounds complicated to me.” Rainbow munched on a doughnut as she examined what Twilight had been working on. “But I kinda understand how you feel, what with Scootaloo going, too. I just keep telling myself they are going out there to learn to be awesome.”

Twilight whipped her head around again. Rainbow was here too? She really had been out of it!

Twilight picked up a tuning matrix and said, “I need to get this finished before the foals get to the school.” She sighed. “I’ve only managed to triple check it so far.”

“Isn’t this your evil upheaval wizard whacker?” Pinkie asked, joining in with Rainbow, inspecting the objects on the table.

Twilight's neck grew sore from all the sudden movement. Pinkie was here too? What had she . . . Actually, that one wasn’t surprising in the least.

“I’m thinking triple checked means it’s ready,” Remus said. “This is coming from someone whose friends consider him to be anal when it comes to preparing for pranks.”

“I still have time for another couple of inspections before I take it to Hogwarts and give it to Minerva McGonagall,” Twilight insisted. “There are at least fifteen protocols I need to go over before its initial activation. It does need to cover the entire castle and grounds after all.”

“It’s not doing anything.” Rainbow pouted. “I was expecting a kaboom. Where’s the kaboom?”

“It hasn’t blown up . . . yet,” Sirius said. “In my books, that’s a good start.”

Furtively, Twilight checked several indicators. “It’s working. You’re not supposed to realize it’s engaged; it is a subtle defense after all.”

“Anticlimactic!” Pinkie whined. “You got us all worked up over nothing. I thought it was supposed to blow something up.”

“It’s not supposed to be flashy.” Twilight huffed. “What it does is disrupt all of the magic from Voldemort. Any of his magic within its sphere of influence wouldn't have enough coherence to blow his nose, much less lift a pin."

“Wait!” Pinkie interjected, focusing her hearing deeper into the house. “Do you hear screaming?”

The teachers' lounge was filled to capacity. For the most part, the professors pretended to be there just to socialize before the term began. Anticipation hung heavy in the air. Something different was about to happen; everyone could feel it. The goofy grin on the divination professor's face was a blatant sign that someone knew what was about to happen.

Frustrated, Berrytwist spoke up. “So, Sybil, what’s with that knowing smirk?”

“She means that you look like the cat who swallowed the canary,” the muggle studies professor stated.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Professor Trelawney waved off the accusation. “Minerva, have you had the extra bed in the apprentices' chamber prepared?”

Professor McGonagall sighed. “Yes, though I fail to see why you’ve been so insistent. Princess Celestia would have given some warning if she intended to send another apprentice.”

“I never said she was sending another apprentice,” Professor Trelawney countered.

Minerva drew her lips into a tight frown. “Just because you got lucky with the betting pools as of late doesn’t mean . . .” She stopped when an owl flew in from an orthogonal direction and landed on the desk next to her. She and the other professor stared at the crest bearing the sisters' symbol on the owl’s pouch. Then, as one, they turned to look at the still-grinning divination professor before returning their gaze to the owl.

Minerva cast one more glance at Sybil before producing her wand and placing the tip on the owl’s pouch. “Ex dimittere,” she intoned.

The sound of retching preceded the arrival of a dark-coated, bat-winged mare who looked stunned over the whole experience.

“Indeed,” interjected Professor Trelawney. “it has been. Professor Snape, why don’t you escort our new friend to her new quarters?”

The other professors in the room stared at the new mare while she stared hungrily at the potions master.

“Aren’t you going to say something about how your inner eye predicted this outcome?” Bathsheda asked.

“Right, then,” said Professor Goodman as that declaration was digested. “I propose that Sybil is no longer allowed to participate in any betting pools.”

The new mare remained quiet and unobtrusive as she took in the reactions of the humans present.

“I suppose the after-hours patrol schedule is going to need to be reworked,” said Mrs. Rockwell, one of the recently-hired professors.

“I am sure we’ll manage,” Minerva said as yet another owl appeared to demand her attention.

“You know,” Filius said as Professor McGonagall untied a scroll from the avian’s leg. “With all of the changes going on of late, one is almost tempted to overlook the fact that owls have come to consider such banal things as physical barriers to be optional.”

Minerva let out a sigh of relief. “We have our first complication,” she said, the tone of her voice belying the words.

“Considering she was probably expecting news of a fire-breathing dragon, anything less would be good news,” said Bathsheda.

“Don ‘t be silly,” Minerva said. “The notice of the fire-breathing dragon came several days ago. That’s old news.”

“You know, I can’t tell if she is joking or not,” said the muggle studies professor.

“This . . .” Minerva waved the scroll in her hand. “. . . is from the mayor of Ponyville. It would appear that several of their children have turned up missing. With the new wards Bill Weasley has helped set up to let them know when anyone underage enters their forest, she knows they are not there; she suspects that we may have some stowaways planning on joining our new semester.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Professor Goodman said. “However, I, for one, would like to revisit the topic of fire-breathing dragons.”

Director Amelia Bones was not a happy person. Being knee-deep in paperwork was never her favorite activity in the best of times. The situation she now faced threatened to make this the worst of times.

The muggle authorities were clamoring for her cooperation, and they were more than willing to pay for it. Already, three classes for new aurors had been scheduled, financed, and finalized. There would be tiers of skill among the new recruits as the muggles felt there was much utility in even the least qualified candidates. The muggles were notably outraged that individuals with seven years of magic school were being wasted on dead end jobs doing paperwork. They had dangled substantial sums to poach even the most menial clerks.

The Ministry was already making plans for the elimination of all the jobs associated with maintaining the Statute of Secrecy. They had feared the consequences of a sudden glut of jobless witches and wizards. They now found themselves coordinating with muggle employment agencies to meet the heavy demand for any magical.

Even a dropout could cast a simple stasis spell and activate a preprogrammed portkey. Two simple skills would almost guarantee a position with a muggle ambulance service. Several lives had already been saved by eliminating the time needed for an ambulance to transport a patient.

Skilled workers were in even more demand. Muggle hospitals were competing with each other to poach healers from St. Mungo's. They were even soliciting the graduating class at the magical medical academies. That was just the tip of the iceberg.

Amelia could fill her day just by reviewing open job opportunities for any enterprising magical. The muggles had known of the magical world for less than a month, and already they were creating jobs that could never have existed until the magical world merged with the muggle. There simply were not enough magicals available to meet the demand.

What was more surprising were the ideas that magical artifacts had inspired among the muggles. Something as ordinary as an exploding snap was working its way into law enforcement as a training aid. The Americans even wanted to put a vanishing cabinet on the moon, of all places.

All the department heads in the Ministry were swamped by the sheer volume of innovation from all of the fresh minds introduced to magic. Amelia wasn’t sure how Arthur was managing everything on top of maintaining relations with the ponies. It seemed that the wizarding world was determined to take every last second of his time for his expertise on muggles. He undeniably deserved more than the raise that came with his new position.

Despite all the disruptions, Amelia still had to fulfill all of the normal responsibilities of her job. While it was a relief that Dumbledore had escaped his captors, apparently no worse for wear, she was still unsure whether to categorize the disappearance of the key witnesses to his abduction as evidence theft or jailbreak. Even the Unspeakables were still debating the methods and merits of administrating veritaserum to rocks.

The thought of veritaserum brought a frown to her face. Several individuals high in the chain of command for muggle law enforcement had expressed desire to get their hands on a bottle or two of that particular potion. Merlin knows how such a breach of ethics would shake the status quo.

Amelia sighed. She was fooling no one but herself. The status quo was dead and buried. Combining magical principles with muggle technology and the unscrupulous was a recipe for disaster. She fervently prayed it wouldn't blow up in her face.

Hazy Days and Magical Ways

by Dogger807

Chapter 2: Realizations Set In