//------------------------------//
// Chapter 15: Nobody is Qualified for Any of This 
// Story: Humphrey Dinklehuegen and the Talking Horses 
// by Unwhole Hole 
//------------------------------//

	In one corner of the Import and Export warehouse, two mooks had been assigned to patrol the various entrances and exits to ensure that nothing went wrong during the blood transaction. Of course, being mooks, they were not doing any of that. Instead, they were standing off to the side of one of the warehouse’s atria and comparing wand length. 
“Ha!” said Mook #1. “Mine IS longer!”
“Well mine is thicker at the base!” retorted Mook #2. 
“Thicker around the- -no it isn’t! You’re lying!”
“No I’m not, look! See! Thicker!”
“Oh yeah, well- -it’s still shorter! And that means you have a stunted personality!”
“And a long one means that you’re compensating!”
“Compensating? For what?!”
They both paused. Neither actually knew what that meant. As they stood perplexed, one of the proximity charms went off, sounding a series of annoying but minor beeps.
“What was that?” said Mook #2.
“Relax,” said his partner. “It’s the protection charm, but with that sound, it’s nothing big. Not human sized. Probably a bird. Or a marmot.” 
“Marmot?”
“Oh yeah. We get marmots in here all the time. Remember that one spring where it rained?”
“No.”
“Well, marmots. Marmots everywhere. I swear, we ate marmot for a month.” 
“What’s a marmot?”
“Kind of like that thing.” The mook pointed toward a brown hairy creature awkwardly climbing through an improperly sealed vent. It seemed to be having a great deal of trouble, and then suddenly fell approximately four inches and landed on its back, squealing and crying as it struggled. 
“Wait a minute,” said Mook #1. “I don’t think that’s a marmot.”
“You’re right…I think that’s a sheep!”
They both immediately started drooling and approached the creature. By this time, it had managed to roll itself onto its side and face them, smiling. 
“Hewwo nice mustuhs!” said the sheep. “Am Kiwi! Be nyy fwends?”
“Aw, it wants to be friends! Isn’t that- -COME HERE YOU LITTLE WOOLY!”
He lunged forward, and the sheep just barely managed to slip past him. 
“Get back here!” shouted Mook #1 as he chased after it. “I’m gonna make a shepherd’s pie outta you!” 
“Nuuuu!” cried the brown sheep as it waddled away. “No am fow shephewd’s pie! Am made fow huggies and wuv!” 
The pair of mooks chased it into one of the empty front rooms. It took several attempts, but seeing as it was slow and not especially smart, they eventually managed to corner it in a dark and empty room. 
“There we have it,” said Mook #2. “Come here, sheepy sheepy sheepy…”
“Do you know what we do to sheep in the United Kingdom?” said Mook #2, drooling heavily now. 
“N…no…” squeaked Kiwi.
“Well, you’re about to find out!” 
They lunged, but as they did, something tiny jumped out of the fur on the sheep’s back. They saw it drop to the floor, and then enlarge itself into what both of them perceived as a sheep with less hair and a horn sticking out of its head.
“Stupify!” shouted Sweetie Belle. Two bolts of red light shot out of her horn, striking the mooks in their respective heads and rendering them unconscious. 
Sweetie Belle stopped to admire her handiwork, and then turned to Kiwi. “Are you okay?”
“No,” said Kiwi, covering his eyes. “Am twaumatized!” 
“Oh, well, you’re not even a real animal anyway, so, um…that’s okay? Maybe?” 
A second object jumped from Kiwi’s fur, and Sweetie Belle pointed her horn at it. “Engorgio!” she said. Almost as soon as the beam struck the insect-sized Ivan, he began to return to normal size. When he reached his normal height, he looked down at the glass bottle he was holding. 
“Это хорошее зелье!” he said. He reached down and picked up Kiwi, tapping the creature with his wand and turning it into the Ivanhat, which he then placed on his head. 
“Are you ready for this?’ said Sweetie Belle.
“Da,” said Ivan. He reached into his coat and removed a tiny bottled filled with a fluid that was glowing vigorously with blue-green light. 
“What is that?” asked Sweetie Belle, taking a step back.
“Is Ivan’s most powerful potion! Distilled from a water from the basement of Chernobyl reactor and potatoes grown in Dzerzhinsk!” He pointed at the potion with one of his free fingers. “Ivan died to get the ingredients in this potion! Then drank potion, and came back! Twice! Or so Ivan thinks. Does not know. Potion is extra strong, for the emergency use only.” 
“Well, let’s hope we don’t have to use it.” 
“Ivan does not hope. Ivan only Ivans.” 
With that, Ivan walked off to complete his part of the mission. Sweetie Belle set to work moving the boxes and old folding chairs in the room out of the way until she had cleared a space. Once she deemed it adequate, she charged her horn and projected a signaling runeset on the ground. Into this she placed a small, round stone and stepped back. 
Almost instantly, the air distorted with a small pop. Humph and Sunflower both disapperated, and Humph slammed into the concrete floor. Sunflower, looking slightly green, doubled over and very nearly spilled her oats.
“Bloody heck, Dinklehugen!” she moaned. “You call that apiration? THAT? I’ve had abdominal surgery less disorienting!” 
“Sorry,” said Humph. He dusted himself off and stood up. 
“Did you hit turbulence?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“When don’t I? We took a few…er…detours. Let’s see, Greenland, Novosibirsk, Detroit, somewhere with chickens, a swamp- -oh, and Clyde says hi.”
“Clyde?”
“The weird swamp hillbilly. I think he said hi, at least. Sunflower kicked him in the head pretty hard.”
“He tried to touch my butt,” she said, crossing her arms. “He deserved it.” 
Humph looked up at Sunflower. She had once again undergone a wardrobe change, this time to a short black tank top worn under a tactical vest that held several pistols.
“What?” she said. 
“You’ve got a real Lara Croft thing going on there.”
“Focus, Dinklehuegen.”
“Oh, I am.”
“On the mission, I mean. Not on me.” 
“Oh.” 
“Do I need to leave you two alone?” asked Sweetie Belle, raising an eyebrow. 
“Niet,” said Humph. “I’m fine for now.”
“Do you know your parts?” 
Sunflower drew a pistol and chambered a round. “Shoot wizards. Save our friends. Get out without dying.”
“Wait, what are we dyeing?” asked Humph. Sweetie Belle and Sunflower glared at him. “Kidding! Sort of,” he said. “Well, that’s a lie. But…” His body warped and shrunk as he converted himself to his thylacine form. 
“Holy- -” Sunflower swore repeatedly, trying to stay as quiet as possible. “A THYLACINE? A- -a THYLACINE? Seriously?!”
“Is there something wrong with that?” said Sweetie Belle.
“Only that they’ve been totally extinct for almost a century, and- -” She sighed. “You know what. No. I don’t even care at this point. With the level of intelligence of these dullards, they’ll probably think he’s a dog.”
“Wait…he’s not a dog?” 
“You know, if I could reach you, I’d slap you lightly in the back of the head right now.” Sunflower turned to Humph. “And it’s not like you’re adorable or anything, but that’s actually a mildly competent transformation. Now go. Hopefully this works.”
Thylacine-Humph nodded and slinked off through the shadows, following his nose toward the scent of pony. 

A group of wizards was playing cards on the floor of the main warehouse, as was their custom. On this particular day, though, their poker game had a new player. The wizards were all sweating and shaking as they pooled their last remaining knuts in a bet against the game’s leader: a mandrake wearing a green visor cap. 
“How is he this good?” whispered one of the wizards to a witch sitting beside him.
“It’s that poker face,” she said, her hands shaking. “Those beady little eyes…I just can’t- -I fold!” she cried. 
“Not me,” said the wizard on her other side of her. “Full House!”
The mandrake stared at him- -or pretended to, as it was likely blind. Then it put down its cards: a Straight Flush. 
“What- -how did you- -what did- -GAH!”
“Come on! He’s counting cards!”
“With what? He doesn’t even have a brain!”
“That means- -that means we’re losing to STARCH!”
The mandrake smiled as it reached forward and collected its winnings. 
“Privet!” said a voice behind them. Every wizard suddenly turned at once, standing up and drawing their wands at a smiling, long-nosed, gray-skinned man in a trech coat and ushanka hat. The troll of the group took a moment to recognize Ivan, but then he burst into tears and hid behind a short wizard. 
“YOU!” cried a wizard. “You’re that madman from the other day!”
“Yeah! That’s him!”
“I have radiation burns because of you!”
“I’m sterile because of you!”
“Wait, what?”
Ivan just continued to smile. “Comrades,” he said, taking a serious expression. “Ivan has come to say how sorry he is being for the events of that occurred in recent.” He sighed, and looked extremely downtrodden. “Ivan sometimes gets the carried away, and forgets that tiny leetle British wizards are not as durable as strong Soviet ones. British wizards, they like tiny, baby witches. So very fragile.”
“You’re not helping your case.”
“But Ivan is being here to apologize! Has brought the gifts to make the better!” He reached into his coat, causing all of the wizards to lean forward, preparing their spells. Instead of drawing his wand, though, Ivan produced twenty six bottles of his potion. 
“What is that?” asked one of the wizards.
“Is Ivan’s magic potion! Passed down from Ivan Ivanovich to Ivan Ivanovich since Ivan Ivanovich! It is being the great much good! Two hundred and six proof!” 
The wizards looked at each other, and then reluctantly agreed to be friends if it meant free potion. About forty seconds later, they had shared half of one bottle and were completely passed out. Ivan had drank the remaining twenty five, and then become locked in a heated debate over the merits of Lysenkoism with the mandrake. The mandrake, of course, was not actually able to talk above a series of low grunts and meaningless muttering, but Ivan did not seem to realize this. 
Two figures passed by Ivan and into the warehouse. One was a small unicorn, her body mostly disguised with a disillusionment charm. In the other direction, a thylacine moved swiftly through the shadows. 
In between the shelves, John and Lester were inventorying a crate of live lethifolds and a small silo of horseradish seeds. 
“Darn it,” said Lester. “There’s six less than there were a week ago.”
“Do you think they’re eating each other?”
“They had better be. But…just to be safe, I think we should avoid sleeping for a few months.”
“Agreed.” John looked to the side, lifting down a small model of a winged unicorn. As he did, he saw a thylacine pass by, stopping for a moment to stare at him before moving on. “Lester,” he said. “I think my tumor’s acting up! I think I just saw a Tasmanian tiger!” 
“Welcome to my world,” muttered Lester. He groaned and grabbed his stomach. “Oh…I shouldn’t have tried to eat that battlegorse…” 
Sweetie Belle, still concealed, edged past them. She knew the limitations of her spell; she was not really invisible, but just covered with a glossy chameleon sheen. Since this was not the first time she was covered in some kind of sheen, she knew enough to stay in the shadows where the distortion around her body was less noticeable. 
As she crossed between two shelves, a wizard holding what appeared to be a head in a jar of greenish fluid started down the path next to her. The head swiveled, eyeing Sweetie Belle suspiciously and winking. The wizard, though, did not see her. Unfortunately, he was on a collision course with the young pony.
Sweetie belle was forced to squeeze through a narrow gap between two shelves. As she did, her flank brushed against a precariously placed steel bucket. She hardly noticed, and as she passed, the bucket tipped and suddenly came crashing down onto the hard concrete floor below.
As soon as the bucket struck the hard surface, two more identical buckets spilled out of the top. When they emerged, two more buckets spilled out of each of them, and so on. Sweetie Belle was immediately covered in a deluge of pails. 
John rushed around the corner and cried out. “Mah buckets! Who spilled my buckets?! Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take to get them back in there? Why do we even have this?!” 
As he lamented the spillage of the enchanted buckets, he noticed a small distortion in the pile trying to pull its way out. For a moment, he thought it was just the tumor, but then he lifted his wand.
“Incarcerous!” he yelled, and a distortion shot from his wand that rapidly resolved into a rope, binding the object. It squealed and fell, sliding down the buckets onto the floor. “Intruders!” shouted John, “Lester, sound the alarm!”
Lester obliged, shooting an alarm spell into the center of the warehouse. It exploded into a plume of light, and a klaxon started to sound. 
From above on a catwalk, Humph watched these events unfolding. As soon as he saw what was happening, he shifted back into his human form. “Well,” he said to himself. “Guess we aren’t going to do this sneaky-style.” He stood up, and cupped his hands around his mouth. “HEY!” he yelled, drawing the attention of the entire warehouse. “Mandrakes!”
The mandrakes- -who by this time nearly outnumbered the conscious humans in the warehouse- -all looked up at him. Humph smiled, and then continued. “You see all these guys? Guess what? They support SCOTLAND NATIONAL!” 
The mandrakes watched, and then turned to the wizards surrounding them. Being wizards, the wizards had no idea what Humph was talking about. The mandrakes, though, did, and after several seconds they screamed in fury and piled onto every nearest wizard, pummeling them with their rooty fists. Those who were not incapacitated by the initial sonic blast were quickly overrun by vegetable hooliganism. 
Sweetie Belle, taking advantage of the chaos, turned to John and Lester, both of whom had also taken advantage of the chaos to lunge at her. 
“REDACTUM SKULLUS!”
A blast of light struck the pair. Both of their heads rapidly shrunk. Lester took the brunt of the spell, and his head shrunk to the size of a plum.
“My head!” cried John. “It’s finally normal sized!”
“And mine is tiny!” squeaked Lester, feeling his tiny head between two fingers. His voice was comically high pitched. “How am I supposed to wear a hat now?!”
“Incindeo!” cried Sweetie Belle, directing the spell backward at herself. It ignited around her, searing away the ropes that bound her and sending a tidal wave of buckets out into the main corridor between the shelves, tripping several wizards in the process. It had the unfortunate aspect of overwhelming her disillusionment charm, and as it cleared she was left standing in the middle of a small crater unhidden. 
“YOU!” peeped Lester. “I’m going to- -”
Before he could attack, several small explosions rang out throughout the warehouse. Sweetie Belle at first thought that they were spells, but then she heard the whine of bullets and saw the secondary explosions of the bullets detonating on whatever they came in contact with. She turned to see Sunflower- -who had formerly been instructed to take up a sniping position- -galloping through the crowd of confused wizards, bashing some out of the way and trampling others under her hooves. 
John ducked to cover, but Lester drew his wand as bullets landed around him.
“Ha! You’ll never hit my tiny head!” he called as loudly as his comically diminutive head and mouth would allow.
“Accio stunod!” called John, pulling Lester away with magic. 
From above, Humph now started running across the catwalk he had been standing on. The wizards below were completely confused and startled, having no idea what was going on. More, though, were rushing into the main room expecting a fight. A small group of them had started up the stairs after Humph- -after all, he had been the first to announce his presence- -and he was contemplating a way to stop them with the limited number of spells he actually knew how to do properly.
That was when he spied what appeared to be an enormous egg carton immediately next to the nearest staircase that the group was approaching. “I wonder if there are actually eggs in there,” he said to himself. He raised his wand. “Gestatimus!”
A spiral of golden light left his wand, and as soon as it struck the egg carton the lid suddenly started to move under its own volition. Within seconds, a number of baby snakes burst out, attacking the wizards who were nearby. 
“Snakes!” cried one, “why did it have to be SNAKES?!” 
“Huh,” said  Humph, watching. “I guess there were eggs.”

In the rooms below, Eugene turned his head quickly at the sound of the klaxon. “What- -now? NOW? Why did I even hire those Mooks in the first place…” All around him, the various inferi collectively known as Rott were working with his equipment, beginning to process the unicorn blood into whatever it was they were using it for. Several of them were just standing around doing nothing, and this infuriated Eugene. “Aren’t you going to do something?!” he cried.
One of the Rotts turned toward him slowly. “It is…not our concern.” The inferi then went back to operating a centrifuge. 
Eugene swore under his breath. The only other individuals in the room were Gisla, Maggie, and Liu. He turned to the three of them. “Get up there!”
“Finally,” said Liu, cracking her knuckles. “I’m going to smash some heads in!” She immediately charged up the stairs and out before Eugene could stop her and remind her that she did not currently have a wand. Gisla, meanwhile, seemed to actually understand the significance of what was going on. Somehow, a group had managed not only to breach the security of the Central Warehouse but they were actually conducting a battle in the middle of an array of priceless artifacts. There was no telling who they were- -Ministry, Brownfinger, any number of criminal organizations, or even Rott’s rival Death Eaters. In his gut, though, Eugene knew that it had to be the unicorn-tamer. 
“I’m going to need to use some supplies,” said Gisla.
“Use anything. DO anything. Just keep them from getting down here!”
Gisla nodded and raced after Liu. Maggie went to follow her, but Eugene stopped her. “Maggie,” he said.
“W- -what?”
“Take this.” He reached into his pocket and removed a long, dark colored 
“What is that?” said Maggie. 
“A military prototype. The Americans made them. It’s elder. With a small ‘e’. Take it.”
“I- -I can’t take your wand! You need it, boss!”
“Need it? What the heck am I supposed to do with it?” His eyes narrowed. “You seriously don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“I’m a muggle. You could give me the real Elder Wand and I wouldn’t even be able to make it spark. Trust me, you’re going to put this to good use.” 
Maggie was wholly surprised. Not that her boss was a muggle, that actually made sense. Instead, she was astounded that he actually trusted her enough to give her an artifact that she knew was worth far more than she ever would be. 
“I won’t mess up. You can count on me.”
“You had better not.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Because if you do, you’re not going to make it back.” 

In a different room, Fluttershy and Trixie perked up, hearing the sound of commotion from outside their locked stable. 
“What was that?” said Fluttershy. 
“It’s nothing,” said their guard. “They probably tried to steal Blorg’s pudding again. Those idiots.”
Trixie knew better, though. She was not sure if the sound upstairs was a rescue or an attack, but something told her it was the former. She reached out with the magic of her horn and pulled the wizard guard’s wand out of his pocket.
“Hey!” he cried. “Dirty horse, give me that back!”
“Obliviate!” she said, pointing the wand at the wizard’s head. A silver beam struck him in the forehead, and he slowed before stopping a few feet from the pair of ponies.
“Um…” he said. “Where am I?” He looked down at the ponies. “And who are you?” He paused. “Actually…who am I?” He paused, as if trying to remember. “I feel like decades of childhood trauma have been erased, and I certainly don’t feel a need to prove myself by engaging in illegal smuggling to try to win the approval of my apathetic father. So…I’m going to go get a job as an accountant. As soon as I remember where the door is.” 
“Defindo,” said Trixie, cutting the leather reins that held her and Fluttershy to their housing. She then started toward the door, but collapsed.
“Trixie!” cried Fluttershy, moving to help the other pony up. 
“The Weak and Anemic Trixie is feeling a little…woozy,” said Trixie. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone for the extra cookie…” 
“Hold on,” said Fluttershy, lifting Trixie onto her back. Then, with great difficulty, she pulled her newfound friend toward the door to the stable. 
“Alo…hamora,” whispered Trixie, unlocking the door. Fluttershy reached up to turn the knob, only to find that a doorknob was impossible to turn with hooves. She struggled for a moment before turning to the unicorn on her back. “Trixie! I can’t do it on my own!” 
“Need more…peanut…butter…” moaned Trixie.
The door handle then spontaneously turned. The door swung open, and Otto stepped in.
“Otto!” squeaked Fluttershy, stepping back. “Please, don’t- -”
“Hurry!” he said, gesturing toward the door. “While they’re distracted! Go!”
“You- -you want us to escape?”
“Of course! Quickly, there isn’t much time!”
Fluttershy was shocked, but quickly came to hers senses. She would normally have been petrified to be in this situation, but with Trixie anemic, it all came down to her. She nodded, and pushed her way through the door.
“Be free, tiny horses! Be FREE!” called Otto after them. 

By this time, spells and bullets were flying everywhere through the warehouse. Sweetie Belle had surrounded herself with a number of autonomous charms and jinxes that she ran simultaneously, striking from every angle in a way that any being lacking a magical organ sticking out of his or her forehead would hardly even be able to comprehend, let alone accomplish. Behind her, Sunflower had ducked behind cover and was nowhere near out of ammunition. Humph was being Humph.
Ivan, meanwhile, stood in the center of the chaos, periodically sipping on his potion. He enjoyed the pretty colors of the spells going off, and he only seldom had to dodge a passing curse. It did not especially concern him.
Then, from across the room, a small Asian Scot emerged from a door to the lower levels and locked eyes with Ivan. She immediately recognized him, and her expression hardened. She then completely ignored the spells around her, pushing past her comrades. When any of them got in her way, she picked them up and threw them.  
When she was within range, she started sprinting. Within seconds, she was moving quickly, and she expected the long-nosed man in her path to run or try to dodge. That would make it fun. Instead, he just kept standing there, smiling, and it infuriated Liu to no end. She sprinted even faster, and he still did not budge. Then, with all her strength, she punched him in the gut. 
Normally, getting punched in the gut by a fifteen year old girl would only be mildly painful. Liu was somewhat unique in more than one way, though. As one of only a few dragon animagi in history, she had unique attributes that other animagi did not. One was that her strength partially carried over to her human form. A full-strength punch could crack through reinforced concrete. Against a human target, it was a death sentence. 
The blow struck Ivan, but he still did not move. Liu felt it connect, but it was like punching solid steel- -or extraordinarily dense wax. It did not matter, though. The impact may not have sent him flying backward, but that just meant that his organs had absorbed enough force to crush a truck engine block like an aluminium can. She smiled, knowing that she had just gotten her revenge.
“Hm,” said Ivan, Liu’s fist still in his gut. “Ivan is feeling the hungry…wonders if would be making the borsch for lunch…”  
Liu’s eyes widened. “How- -how are you still alive?!” she cried. “How are you not even in pain?!”
Ivan nonchalantly took a sip of his potion. “The magic,” he said, dismissively. Then his expression hardened. “You cannot hurt Ivan in such a way. Am Soviet. Eat Mosin-Nagant for breakfast. Without any miwkies.” 
Liu jumped back. She had heard about a race of Soviet wizards, but had never seen them for herself. She reached for her wand, only to find that it was missing. This compounded her disorientation, but her next course of action immediately became clear to her. Her shock quickly faded, and she laughed. “Oh boy,” she said. “This IS going to be fun!”
Her body warped, and several nearby wizards were thrown out of the way as she metamorphosed into a full-grown, fire-breathing dragon. Ivan looked up at her, and felt his hat quiver with fear.
“Yes,” he said. “That is correct, leetle friend. It is time.” 
He reached into his pocket and removed the tiny bottle of glowing potion. He flipped off the lid and downed it. Barely seconds passed before he flexed and hulked out of all his clothing, leaving him three times his previous size, twenty times his previous muscle mask, and dressed only in an ushakna, seven gold watches, and a hammer-and-sickle belt buckle around what was left of his trousers. The force of the communism was so strong that he simultaneously sprouted Brezhnev eyebrows and a Stalin moustache.
Ivan stared at his opponent, his eyes narrowed to black points for the first time in a long time. Then he roared wildly toward nothing in particular as he charged the dragon. 
“IVAN IS THE MOST MAGICAL COSSACK!” 

As Ivan entered a magical fistfight with Liu, across the warehouse, Sunflower ducked for cover behind a rack of strange metal spheres and crystalline skulls as she reloaded. She cursed herself for not having taken ponyjuice potion before entering the fight; although she was stronger and faster in her natural form, her body was a much larger target. She had only narrowly avoided a disintegration spell that had scorched part of her side, as well as several smaller spells that had left scratches on her front legs. 
Her reprieve in cover was short lived. A witch was attempting to flank her. The woman, clearly, was an idiot. Sunflower raised one of her pistols, and was about to pull the trigger when she hesitated. There was just no sport in doing it at point-blank range. 
“Is that a gun?” laughed the witch. “Seriously? I guess it’s true! You’re just a dumb animal! You centaurs are no better than common horses. I mean, what’s a gun supposed to do against me? I have MAGIC!” 
“You’re the one taunting a woman with a gun.”
“WOMAN!” chortled the witch. “That’s RICH! You’re just a BEAST! In fact, I’ll even give you a chance. Just surrender. My kids would love to have a new pony to pull their sleigh at Chistmastime.”
Sunflower just sighed and pulled the trigger on her gun. The witch raised her wand.
“Protego,” she said, feigning a yawn. The bullet struck the shield, but since the spell had been lazily and sloppily constructed, it did not compensate for the explosive charge in the end of the bullet. The second explosion shot a feedback wave through the witch’s wand, splintering it instantaneously. 
“W- -what?” cried the witch, now on the verge of tears. “That was an heirloom…” 
“Have you ever heard the expression ‘Why didn’t Potter just use a Gun’?” Sunflower gently kicked the witch out of the way. “Now go away, new muggle, I have work to.”

As a griffon, Gisla did not have any innate magic. She could not use a wand, nor could she cast any manner of spell. Of course, that had never been necessary for her kind to lord over humanity for millennia as de-facto gods. When she entered the battle, she immediately approached a large and unassuming crate. With one quick swipe of one of her claws, she tore through the wood and the contents spilled out onto the floor.
Reaching down, she picked up on of the weapons. She dusted off the top surface, seeing her father’s noble seal still ingrained in the metal of the weapons’ stock. From the other side of the box, she picked up a modular magazine with an Unlimited Ammunition charm. Even after seventy four years, they were still just as functional as the day they had been created. 
“Ehre sei das ein wahres Königreich,” she said to herself as she rounded a corner and opened fire. 
The wizards in the room were smart enough to jump out of the way. A few mandrakes were not, and they were shredded into the equivalent of mashed potatoes. A few bullets even sprayed into Liu and Ivan, both of whom were locked in combat, but neither seemed to notice. They were not Gisla’s primary target anyway.
She concentrated fire on the area where she knew where the centaur was hiding. As she advanced forward, she licked her lips, savoring the smell of the gun as it heated up and anticipating the taste of freshly roasted centaur. That is, if there was any usable meat left.  

Sweetie Belle barely managed to duck out of the way in time to avoid the bullets. Her momentary lapse in concentration caused her spells to shut down around her. As they did, she realized just how exhausted she had become. Her special talent was not for magic, after all. The only way she was able to do so much was because human magic was so incredibly easy. She was just a filly, though, and she immediately realized that the other side was playing for keeps. This terrified her, and for a moment she froze.
As she did, though, a wizard was slung down from the catwalk above. His arms, it seemed, had been replaced with his legs and his legs replaced with his arms. It was an unfortunate and unpleasant sight. Worse was the fact that he landed on a mandrake, and it whined in anger and annoyance. This time, Sweetie Belle did not have time to cover her ears. She heard the sound it made.
She was not paralyzed, though. In fact, she immediately realized that the sound was not even that complex. It was really just a matter of seven independent notes, all of which existed in a kind of harmonic vibrado with upticks on every third sixty-fourth note. Several of them were far, far higher than the range of human hearing and several were far lower. All were within Sweetie Belle’s natural vocal range.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “I can make that sound!”
Turning away from the struggling mandrake and the now partially frozen man with the mismatched limbs, Sweetie Belle took a deep breath- -deeper than any she had ever taken- -and leapt out into the gunfire. 
Before any of the bullets could hit her, she screamed. She hit the combination of notes necessary to create a mandrake cry perfectly, and the result was immediate. Many of the wizards who had ducked to avoid Gisla’s machinegun fire suddenly froze in awkward positions, and at least five soiled themselves. Then the wave hit the unusually large and aggressive looking griffon across the room, and she was knocked back. She struggled for a moment, reaching for her feather-hidden ear holes, but Sweetie Belle continued the cry. Within ten seconds, the griffon’s legs began to stiffen. She fell forward, her red-hot gun clattering away from her. Just for safe measure, Sweetie Belle continued the blast for another twenty seconds- -and then passed out from lack of oxygen. 

Trixie was heavy. Unusually so, as a product of poor diet and general excess. Fluttershy, being extremely soft and not at all muscular, was having extreme difficulty moving her through the hallways that lead to their escape. Moving TOWARD the sound of fighting also went against every cowardly instinct she naturally held as well. 
That was when she heard something slithering in the dark shadows of the unlit corridor. Fluttershy squeaked in terror, and backed toward a small area lit by a dim and flickering indandescent light bulb. 
Whatever it was moved again, and Fluttershy thought she saw it. She nearly fainted. Then something as tall as she was approached her from the shadows. 
Fluttershy nearly fainted- -until she saw that it was a truly gigantic, long-fanged snake. It was not alone, either; there were several more behind it. 
“Oh,” said Fluttershy, laughing at how silly she had been. “It’s just an adorable little creature.” She then looked them in the eye and addressed the snakes in their native language. 
The snakes, surprised to have found a parselmouth, looked at each other, puzzled. Then they explained to Fluttershy that they had just been hatched and were both confused and scared and had no idea where their mother was, or why they had not been born from chicken eggs. Fluttershy did her best to calm them down. 
Once that had been settled, she explained her situation. The baby basilisks were more than sympathetic and agreed to help. A pair of them took Trixie from Fluttershy and helped carry her. As Trixie was transferred, she stirred. “Oh Starlight,” she said, hugging the snake’s back. “Yes I will marry you and Twilight, even if you have really clammy dry skin…” 

Wizard dueling was not Humph’s specialty. He had never had cause to fight anyone, and spent most of his time with muggles. As such, his reaction speed and repertoire of abilities was not highly varied.
A wizard approached  him from the front, and Humph raised his wand.
“Take a leedk!” he cried, firing several of the onion-like vegetables at the approaching wizard. The opponent was surprised, at first, but then started to push through the vegetables before dicing them with his wand- -until Humph accidentally summoned a sack of frozen oranges that beamed the wizard into unconsciousness.
“Oops,” said Humph. “Sorry, I didn’t- -wait a darn dirty minute, who keeps FROZEN oranges?!”
Ignoring that, he leaned down to pick one up. As he did, the space above him distorted as a disintegration spell grazed his back, vaporizing a hole in the wall near him. 
Humph looked at his own wand. “That wasn’t me,” he said, hoping it was not. He stood up and turned around to see a familiar witch pointing a long, sparking wand at him. 
“Oh, hey!” said Humph.
“Lacarnum inflamare!” shouted the witch. Her wand sparked and she was forced partially back by the immense recoil, but as she spoke a six-foot-wide sphere of fire shot from her wand.
“Extinguishus!” said Humph, raising his own wand. Water shot from the tip of his wand in a torrent- -or at least he thought it was water until he smelled the signature aroma of petrol. The result was a small detonation that disrupted the fireball before it could reach him. Although he was singed, he was otherwise fine. 
“Defodio!” screamed the witch, advancing forward.
Humph tried to dodge, but instead slipped on an orange. When he fell, a random spell shot out of his wand. Those, in his opinion, were always the best kind. 
It struck the witch in the ankle, immediately turning her over as it raised her up by that limb. She cried out and blushed as she grabbed at her long skirt to keep it from falling open. 
“Oops,” said Humph. “Sorry!”
The witch gracefully shifted, freeing herself from the spell. She raised her wand and opened her mouth to fire another ridiculous spell, but Humph reacted quickly, summoning an especially fat leek in her open mouth. As she tried to remove it, he jumped down from the catwalk and started sprinting. 
“No you don’t!” she shouted, leaping after him. 
“Obscuro!” retorted Humph, pointing his wand over his shoulder. A blindfold appeared over the witch’s eyes, and, unable to see, she landed hard against the ground and several buckets. 
Humph, meanwhile, shifted into his thylacine form and ducked between two large bookcases. Maggie managed to get her blindfold off just enough to see this happen. She stood up, repairing her broken bones and tendons and shifting her own body into that of a thin pre-teen girl. She used her wand to resize her clothing and dashed after Humph, using her now smaller form to navigate the passages that her adult body would be too fat to get through. 
At this point, Humph was at a disadvantage. As far as he knew, thylacines were not able to talk, nor could they hold wands- -let alone would he be able to find out exactly where his went when he transformed- -but Maggie was still able to cast spells with ease. Bolts of light in every color shot past Humph, and he skittered around on the floor trying to avoid them. 
For a moment, he thought he had lost her, and he came skidding around a corner and nearly ran into Sunfower. He barely managed to stop, and then only by converting himself back into his human form.
“Oh, Sunflower, thank goodness! I’m getting chased by a crazy witch with some kind of super-wand and an average bust size! Well, mayble just a little bit below average- -but that’s not the point!”
“Don’t worry,” said Sunflower. “I’m on it.”
“Oh, by the way,” said Humph, standing up. “I don’t know how you do it, but throughout this whole fight, how are you keeping your tail so perfect? It looks amazing!”
“Oh,” said Sunflower, looking back at her tail. “Thank you. I’m glad you like- -”
She was silenced by a sudden punch to the face. She screamed and took a step back, the sudden surprise agony causing Maggie to revert to her normal form. 
“HA!” said Humph. “I knew my inkling was inkle! I was thirty percent sure you were a fake! You may be cute, but you’re no Sunflower!” 
“I think you broke my nose, you bloody git!” said Sunflower.
“Oops. Sorry. Hold on.” Humph raised his wand. “Reparo!”
The resulting detonation knocked them both back, with Maggie flying into a shelf and Humph tumbling across the floor and barely avoiding getting stepped on by Liu, who Ivan was now forcing to hit herself with her own hand. 
Humph did not miss a beat, though. He raised his wand just as Maggie raised hers. “Duckiflors!” he cried. A bolt of golden light struck Maggie’s wand, and it instantly shimmered and shifted, exploding into a duck. 
“Wh- -WHAT?” shouted Maggie. “How is that possibly reasonable?!”
“Wow,” said Humph, looking in amazement at the crimped straw that he called a wand. “That hair really IS great and powerful!” 
Maggie dropped the duck and reached for her original wand. By the time she got it out of her robes, though, Humph was already on top of her- -literally. He held her hand back, and she punched him repeatedly. Being unable to feel pain, though, Humph hardly noticed.
They rolled around for several minutes before Maggie cried out.
“Wait a minute!” she said. “Hold on! Stop! I’m starting to enjoy it!”
Humph stopped. He was straddling her, and he looked down at the place where their bodies met.
“Is that what I feel?” he said. “Um…are you…”
“A woman? Well, I’m a metamorphomagus, so I can go either way…”
“Ah…so that’s…”
“Yeah.” 
They both blushed. “Do we really have to do this?” asked Humph.
Maggie blushed even harder and her eyes widened. “Do- -do what?” she sputtered.
“Fight,” said Humph. “I mean, I’m just here to save my friends.”
“Friends?”
“Yeah. My pony friends. Trixie and Fluttershy.”
“The unicorns? They’re…your friends?”
“Fluttershy’s a Pegasus, but yes. Friends. I mean, what did you think? They’re sentient creatures, not livestock.” 
“Oh,” said Maggie. “So…you’re not an evil dark wizard?”
“Nope. Just a necromancer. And even then, only marginally.” 
At that point, Sunflower rounded the corner, firing several shots into the direction of the nearest wizards. When she took cover, she saw Humph straddling a familiar woman and immediately froze.
“YOU!” She cried. “What- -what are you doing?! Get off her, you pervert!” 
“Oops,” said Humph, blushing and standing up.
“‘Oops’- -if I had more than one clip left, I’d shoot you! And I’m going to shoot here right now!” 
“Actually,” said Humph, watching a silent black mist creeping over the ground. “I think we have a bigger problem.” 
He leaned out of cover and looked out into the battlefield. A number of wizards were lying and moaning in various stages of magical injury, mostly as a result of Sweetie Belle’s paralyzing scream. On the far end of the room, Ivan and Liu had converted back into their human forms and, though bruised and battered, continued their fight in the most wizardly way possible: by taking turns slapping each other in the face. 
The mist grew increasingly thick, though, and in the distance several tall black-cloaked figures emerged.
“Oh, great,” said Maggie. “NOW they show up.” 
Sweetie Belle, who was just starting to regain consciousness, looked up to see a dark figure crossing silently toward her. He turned his head slowly in her direction. His face was covered in a silver mask, but Sweetie Belle could hear him so clearly that it was as if his mouth were mere inches from her ears. 
“The…unicorn. Our blood.” 
The figure reached out a long-fingered hand, and Sweetie Belle immediately felt as awake as she ever had. 
“Repelo- -inamicum!” she choked. She had badly strained her voice, and the highest she could speak was barely above a whisper. From the shimmer of the spell that surrounded her, though, it appeared that it worked, at least weakly.
As soon as she called out the name of the spell, she heard a different spell from behind her.
“Accio adorable!”  
Sweetie Belle felt herself picked up and drawn quickly out of the dark-cloaked man’s reach, pulled backward into Humph’s grasp. The figure’s head slowly turned as she moved, its dark, unseen eyes never leaving her. 
Then it stepped forward. There was a wave of distortion as Sweetie Belle’s spell suddenly became visible and it burned into the man’s surface. As far as Sweetie Belle knew, no living thing would be able to pass the barrier.
This man, however, did. A moment after passing, he sort of slumped to one side. Then the red gem below his hood sparked, and he returned to his normal state. The others behind him immediately began to advance as well, with each passing through the spell with only a few moments of hindrance. 
“Bloody blood!” cried Sunflower, raising her pistols and unloading them into the nearest of the advancing dark wizards. Each bullet struck, but the figures did not even try to dodge. They just absorbed the bullets, hardly noticing any form of injury.
“What- -what in the name of vibrating broomsticks ARE THEY?” cried Sunflower angrily as she finally ran out of bullets. 
“Sweetie Belle,” said Humph, still holding her. “Can you do that sonic screech thing again?”
Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No,” she croaked. “I’ve lost my voice!”
“So you’re a little hoarse?” 
Groaning, Sweetie Belle conjured a magical silver hand and slapped Humph. 
“It won’t work,” said Maggie. “They’re inferi Death Eaters. You can’t hurt them. In fact, I would say all three of you are totally stuffed.” 
“But I’m not hungry at all,” said Sweetie Belle.
“Wait a minute,” said Humph, dropping the unicorn he was holding. “Inferi? That means they’re already dead!” He grinned wildly and turned toward the advancing horde. “That means I can use my most powerful spell!”
“I just told you,” said Maggie. “A killing curse won’t work on them. They’re already dead!”
“Just watch,” said Humph stepping forward.
“No, you idiot, get back here!” cried Sunflower. 
“Don’t worry about it, this’ll be easy. You might want to cover your ears, though.”
“Wait,” said Sweetie Belle, “why?”
Humph approached the Death Eater. He raised his wand, but so did his opponent. Before Rott could speak, though, Humph called out his spell. 
“Expelliarmbus!” 
The resulting explosion was so powerful that it sent Sweetie Belle flying backward into Maggie and even knocked Ivan and Liu- -both of whom were totally oblivious to the Death Eaters- -to the ground. The force was so great that it even shattered Sweetie Belle’s perimeter spell. Strangely, though, there was no explosion. Before Sweetie Belle had been thrown by the force, she had just seen the Death Eater vanish, his body imploding into a plume of black soot. 
The other Death Eaters stopped, looking to the small crater where their comrade had once been standing. 
“What- -what in the name of all that is holy did you just do?!” cried Sunflower, her volume in part because of her temporary deafness.
“The ‘expelliarmbus’ spell,” said Humph, looking back at her. “It causes every molecular bond in a person’s body to simultaneously decompose. Full intrinsic subtraction in any material object. Neat, huh?”
“That- -that’s NOT what it does! How did you even THINK that is POSSIBLY the correct action of a spell called ‘expel’-‘i’-‘armus’?!” 
Humph looked confused. “Wait…you mean this isn’t what it’s supposed to do?”
“NO!”
Humph looked at his wand, then back at Sunflower. “But isn’t that the spell that hairy kid used to murder that Grindenwald-knockoff political revolutionary back in ’96?”
“What are you- -NO! NO, you IDIOT! Well, he did, but that’s not the point! It was supposed to be a beautiful display of righteous pacifism where he used a purely defensive, nonlethal spell after offering his mortal enemy a chance at redemption!”
“Uh…no. According to your books, he systematically murdered the guy by hunting down every single one of horcruxes and destroying his immortal soul one piece at a time. They brutally murdered a dude without even taking the time to hear out his ideology.” 
“Kind of like you’re doing here?” noted Sweetie Belle.
“No! I’m not killing anyone! Expelliarmbus!”
Another Death Eater vaporized. One lunged at Humph, though, but Sweetie Belle leveled her horn at it. “Expelliarmbus!”
The Death Eater exploded in a plume of ash. Sweetie Belle was shocked that she was able to do that, but suddenly felt her confidence rise to Trixie-high levels. Using it for that purpose, though, was wrenching for her insides and immediately made her feel nauseous and drained. 
Humph, meanwhile, just continued to do it with impudence. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself. More Death Eaters were coming, though, and Sunflower finally decided to act. 
“Come on,” she said, picking up Sweetie Belle and putting the unicorn filly on her back. “Can you do a shield? Around me?”
“Y- -yes, I think I can.”
“Do it.”
Sweetie Belle did, and before the spell was even complete, Sunflower charged forward. She trampled several wizards in the process, but managed to kick a Death Eater in the face, knocking away his skeletal mask and revealing the gaunt skull beneath. As disgusting as having something like that touching her hooves was, she still pressed forward, picking up Humph and slinging him over her back before charging forward, leaving Maggie behind to watch. 
“ACK!” squealed Humph, his eyes widening. “Too high! TOO HIGH!”
“You idiot, do you have any idea what an honor this is for you? Now run defense or- -”
“Too high! I’m going to fall off!” He slid forward and wrapped his arms exceedingly tightly around Sunflower’s midriff. As insulting as it was, the centaur found that she actually somewhat liked it. 
“If your hands move any higher, I really WILL throw you off,” she warned. “Sweetie! Looks like it’s up to you!” 
Sweetie Bell nodded and expanded her shield, charging it with offensive portions of spells that lashed out at the dark wizards. Although she was not able to vaporize them and keep the shield at the same time, she was at least able to knock them back or sometimes light them on fire.