“Scootaloo, it’s time to wake up.”
Scootaloo slowly opened her eyes, and blinked at the light softly infusing the clinic, smiling as she recognized the voice. She was still in her pony form and was curled up on top of one of the clinic’s beds. A wide yawn gave way to a contented smile; here was one she owed much to.
“Good morning,” she said ebulliently, as she rubbed her eyes with her hooves. “I haven’t got a chance to thank you. You’ve given me so much in such a short time. I can’t thank you enough. Because of you, I can fly. Look at my wings! they grew! Madam Pomfrey says I’ll be able to use them properly now.” She was babbling but didn’t care; she needed to tell him how much it all meant to her. She rolled off the bed and then hugged him tightly with both forelegs and wings.
“Yes, about that,” he said, bringing one gloved hand to his chin to rub it while he patted her head gently with its mismatched partner. “I can see that it is an almost perfect growth. However, there are some imperfections that will work themselves out, given time. Unfortunately, you are going to have to wait at least a week without flying to avoid the complications that could cause you to lose your new-found freedom.”
“What??!!” Scootaloo’s head snapped up and her eyes widened to their fullest extent. “That is so not fair!”
“No,” he agreed, chuckling softly, “it’s not. Nonetheless, it is better than what you had just one day ago.”
Scootaloo could only nod her head in agreement. It would be torture not to try her wings for so long, but, in comparison to not having them ever, well, there was no comparison.
“Don’t look so down. It really won’t be that long until you can fly on your own. Meanwhile, you do have your broom.” Patting her on the head, he gestured to the side table with her things on it. “Go ahead and put your pendant back on; I have a surprise for you.”
Despite wanting to relish the sight of her corrected wings, Scootaloo did as she was asked. The now-human, little girl looked up with pleading eyes. “Are you sure I have to wait a week?”
Nodding, he handed her a small copper band. “Yes, I afraid so. Now, if you’ll please put this on your finger.”
Once it was in place Scootaloo asked, “What does this do?”
“We both know that it would only be a matter of time before you found some reason where you just had to fly.” He fixed her with a knowing gaze. “The first function of this ring is to keep you human for two weeks, so don’t even bother trying to remove it.”
Holding up her hand to look at the offending band, Scootaloo frowned. “But you said only a week!”
“Better safe than sorry.” He then handed over two more rings. “One of your professors can change into a cat and back at will. It’s a skill called ‘animagus’. After a few times observing her, I had an idea. These mimic the ability quite precisely. As a matter of fact, they are much more convenient than putting on and taking off a necklace every time you want to change. Personally, I think you’ll be rather pleased with the results.”
“These are going to stick Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle in human form too?” Scootaloo asked as she accepted the proffered items.
“No, they don’t have the potential of causing themselves harm like I know you will.” He smiled again at the little girl. “Be patient and you’ll get your wings. Two weeks are not forever, after all.”
“I know.” Scootaloo gave him a small smile. “It’s just that I’ve had to wait forever already.”
“I know; waiting is torment given form.” He gave her a serious look. “But, I trust you will weather the storm.”
Scootaloo gave him a look letting him know the absurdity of the statement was not overlooked.
“One more thing before I go, well two, actually. First of all, I took fifty galleons from your household account, and secondly, I have two expense forms for you to sign here.” After receiving the signatures, he turned to leave. “Enjoy your time at school and don’t forget to cause a little chaos along the way.”
Scootaloo stared sadly at the copper ring on her finger before smiling and saying, “Thank you again, Discord. I can’t thank you enough for everything.” Then after a thoughtful pause, she continued, “Oh, you might want to avoid Ponyville for a bit; they’re a little upset that we didn’t leave them a note or anything.”
<->
“If’n you want, I can show you my new potions lab now. Just come up to the dorm with me,” Apple Bloom said to the twins, not long after they returned to the Gryffindor common room. Scootaloo wasn’t there yet, so the first-years decided to stick around for a while in hope that she would show up soon.
“We can’t,” one twin said.
“. . . go up to your dorm.”
“The stairs don’t like. . .”
“. . . masculine visitors.”
“What?” the gathered first years said in unison.
One of the twins shrugged and said, “Go on and give it a go Ron.”
Not trusting the twins in the least, Ron nudged Neville. “Go on. Give it a go.”
Neville looked at Ron and shrugged. He then made his way up the stairs to the girls’ dorms followed closely by Dean. They hadn’t gotten to far up before there was a loud gong noise, and the stairs transformed into a slide, causing the two boys to tumble down back into the common room.
“See. . .” One twin stated.
“. . . the stairs. . .”
“. . . are totally. . .”
“. . .biased,” they finished together.
Apple Bloom rubbed her chin thoughtfully for a second then said, “Wait here a sec.”
She then rushed up the stairs and came back shortly with her shrunken trunk. She expanded it and opened the lid, showing a staircase leading down. “Okay. All you boys, in ya go.” When all the first-year boys and the twins had entered, she closed and shrunk the trunk. She then went back up the stairs with the shrunken trunk.
The remaining Gryffindors watched the stairs expectantly for about a minute. When nothing happened, one of the sixth-year girls turned to her friend and said, “Did a first-year just figure a way around the anti-boy wards?”
Her friend just dully nodded.
“Something we’ve been trying to work out for a couple years now, right?”
Another nod.
“Right then.” The sixth-year girl turned to the audience still in the common room. “This never happened.” She was met with a wave of like-minded nods.
<->
“Cor!” Ron murmured looking around the sitting room. “It’s right nice in here, it is.” The rest of the boys agreed and claimed seats to wait in.
They had barely sat down when the lid opened once more and Apple Bloom called down the stairs, “All right, Fred, George, come on out now. Ah want to show you mah lab.” The twins quickly exited and were replaced by Lavender, Parvati, Philomena and Sweetie Belle.
“It’s about tea time,” Harry noted as he studied the kitchen. “Mind if I whip something up?” He wanted to contribute to the group, and cooking was something he was good at.
“Go right ahead,” Sweetie Belle said, making her way over to join him. “I’ll help.”
“I’m just planning on doing some quick scones and tea,” Harry said as he opened cupboards, looking for the right supplies. “Why don’t you have a seat and let me do the work this time? You still look knackered from all that running around.”
Sweetie Belle studied him for a second before saying, “Okay, just this once, but you’re going to teach me how to make scones, later. Whatever they are.”
Unaware of the disaster he just averted, Harry nodded and said, “Sure, I’ll be glad to show you. They’re easy enough.”
<->
Rainbow Dash sat on a cloud and contemplated her life. It had been pretty good as of late; she had great friends, a good-paying job that didn’t require too much effort, and she had been part of some national-level adventures, even. Sure, she wasn’t a Wonderbolt, yet, but that dream was becoming more and more attainable as each day passed. In truth, she had just recently matured to the point where that dream lost its position of prime importance in her life. She had realized there were things whose value she placed much higher.
Just last week, if somepony had told her that there was something that she would be willing to sacrifice her Wonderbolt chances for, well, she would have thought that somepony crazy. What a difference just one week could make.
These thoughts dredged up memories of her mother. It still hurt to think about how her mother had disappeared one day, abandoning her and her father with no warning. Rainbow could not understand how any mare could do that. The pain resurfaced and left Rainbow wondering how she would stack up as a parent, herself. Would she be just as awful? Was it even worth trying? Did an abandoned filly even have the right to consider being a parent? How could she even consider not being one?
<->
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. A muggle government would have given the non-essential workers the day off, but the wizarding bureaucracy mandated that there be at least a skeletal staff available to the public at all hours. Still, not much ever happened during this time period, and James Tilley was wasting away the afternoon at the counter of the Ministry’s Records Department. If one were to ask, he’d deny that he was napping standing up. He was just thinking really hard, and that’s why he missed the entrance of the man in the brown business suit. Just because James didn’t notice him until he was standing right in front of the counter did not mean James had been napping.
“Good afternoon,” the man in the brown suit greeted the Ministry employee. “I have some paperwork to notarize and file if you’d be so kind.”
Shaking his head slightly and suppressing a yawn, James gave a plastic smile in greeting and said, “Of course, I’ll be glad to help.”
The man held out a stack of papers. “I have four copies of each here: one for the ministry, one for Gringotts, and one each for the families involved.”
“Good, good,” James said as he used his wand to magically check signatures and add a notarization mark to the forms; only then did it dawn on him what he was notarizing. The “Daily Prophet” would spend a shiny sickle for this news.
<->
Apple Bloom popped open the lid of her trunk and was exiting the sixth compartment when Scootaloo entered the dorm room. “Hey Scoots.” She waved as she made way for the twins to follow. “Where have you been all day?”
“They fixed my wings!” Scootaloo squealed with the widest smile on her face.
“Wings?” George asked.
“You’ve got wings?”
“That explains. . .”
“. . . how you fly. . .”
“. . . like your born to it.”
“Ah’m so happy for you Scoots!” Apple Bloom said as she hopped over to hug Scootaloo. “Let me see ‘em! Let me see ‘em!”
“I can’t.” Scootaloo looked at her feet in sadly. “Discord said I have to wait two weeks to avoid hurting myself. He locked me in human form.”
“Aww!” Apple Bloom deflated at the news. “But at least your wings are fixed now; that’s so wonderful. Until then, you’ve got your broom.”
Scootaloo nodded vigorously, unshed tears in her eyes.
“Here, Fred, hug her for a second,” Apple Bloom ordered and raced back to her trunk.
One twin turned to the other and said, “You’re Fred.”
Fred jumped slightly at the news before heading to Scootaloo with his arms open wide. “Oh, right, I forgot.”
Scootaloo giggled into his arms, as he fulfilled the terms of a hug, appreciative of the support.
Meanwhile, Apple Bloom was calling down into her trunk, “Sweetie Belle, come here for a minute!”
There were sounds of movement from below then, “What’s up?” Sweetie Belle asked as she climbed out of the trunk.
Apple Bloom leaned close and whispered the news to her. Sweetie Belle’s eyes went wide and she scurried over to share in the hug between Fred and Scootaloo, shedding tears of happiness the entire way. “Scootaloo, that’s fabulous!”
<->
“I’ve never seen a one o’ them act in that manner afore,” Hagrid was saying to the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, a pale man named Quirrell, who had come seeking confirmation on rumors heard in the halls. They were standing outside Hagrid’s wooden hut where Quirrell had caught up with the groundskeeper.
“Surely, th - th - there has been some similar episode in the p - p - p - p - past,” Quirrell stuttered as the late afternoon light beat down on his purple turban. “She can’t be the first girl to draw a unicorn from the forest in such a m -m - m -m - manner.”
“I’ve not heard tell of any such thing.” Hagrid shook his head to the negative. “Normally, the unicorns, well they avoid any large group o’ humans, they do. They rarely let new people near enough to get a clear view, let alone come out of the forest to meet one. Was the most amazin’ thing I’ve evar seen, the way she came right out o’ the forest and trotted right up to that firsty. Practically, pushed the other firsties out o’ her way, she was in such a hurry, she was.”
Quirrell paused to consider the news and how it would affect his own contingency plans. “P -p - please, l - l - let me know if this has any e - e - e - effect on the other unicorns,” Quirrell told Hagrid as way of saying goodbye. He had already concluded that the Belle girl would require some scrutiny.
<->
Fay entered the first-year dorm, and was not surprised to see that it was empty. Luckily, the girls had keyed her and the other two female prefects to their trunks’ 5th compartments last night before bed time, making it easier to find them. Fay started opening trunks, and on her second attempt, she heard voices coming up from the interior of the trunk. “Sweetie Belle, are you down here?” she called as she descended the stairs.
“Yes,” came the reply as Fay found the entirety of the first-year class plus the Weasley twins having tea in the crowded sitting room, half their members finding seating on the floor when they had run out of chairs.
“Tea?” one of the twins offered when he saw the shock showing on the prefect’s face. “Harry made scones.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Fay said, finishing her descent, “but first, Sweetie, Professor McGonagall would like to see you in her office.”
Sweetie Belle’s face drooped at this news; had Professor McGonagall heard about the whole unicorn incident already?
“Don’t worry,” Fay said seeing the worried look. “I don’t think you’re in trouble or anything.”
“Do you know what she wants?” Sweetie asked defensively.
“You’ll have to go see for yourself,” Fay replied as she nudged Dean out of one of the chairs to claim as her own.
“Okay,” Sweetie Belle said as she put down her tea cup and scurried up the stairs, “I just hope you’re right about me not being in trouble.”
After the girl had made her exit, Fay turned to the remaining occupants of the trunk and asked, “How did you manage to get boys up the stairs, and can you teach me how to do it?”
“You’re not going to tell on us?” Parvati asked warily.
“Technically, it’s not against the rules.” Fay smirked as Harry handed her a cup of tea. “The charm’s been on the stairs since the time of the founders, and no one has ever bypassed it before. Before now, there simply has never been a need for such a rule.”
“Why is there a spell on the girl’s stairs and not on the boys’?” Apple Bloom inquired. “That seems a might unfair.”
“The founders thought that girls were more trustworthy than boys,” Fay said before she sampled the tea.
“Isn’t that backwards?” Scootaloo challenged from her seat on the floor.
<->
It didn’t take Sweetie Belle long to find her way to Professor McGonagall’s office, just long enough for her to think up all kinds of doomsday scenarios. She was, therefore, fairly nervous by the time she knocked on the office door.
“Come in,” was the crisp command issued from within.
Timidly, Sweetie Belle entered an old-fashioned office, neat and tidy as one would suspect, knowing its owner. The furniture was all made of dark hardwoods lending an atmosphere of severity to the orderly room. This was only compounded by the woman sitting behind the desk, who was frowning at a letter she had been reading.
“Have a seat, please.” Professor McGonagall gestured at the uncomfortable-looking chair placed in front of her desk.
Sweetie Belle hurried to comply. “You wanted to see me, Professor McGonagall?” she stammered once she was seated.
“Yes, Miss Belle.” Professor McGonagall put down the letter she had been reading and gave Sweetie her full attention. “I assume you have read today’s ‘Daily Prophet’.”
“I’m too young to get married!” Sweetie immediately replied.
“Indeed, you are,” Professor McGonagall allowed. “All the same, that is not why I have asked you here today.”
Sweetie Belle tilted her head inquisitively as she waited for the other horseshoe to drop.
“No, our present concern is the Wizengamot seat you currently hold.” Professor McGonagall’s lips pressed together in a thin line.
“I hold a what now?”
“You hold a position of power in the wizarding government,” was the clarification Sweetie Belle received.
“They do know I’m only eleven, right?”
“They are aware; however, the law is ancient and does not have age stipulations.” Professor McGonagall never lost her neutral expression on her face.
Sweetie Belle tried a different angle. “But, I’m not even a citizen!”
“Also, irrelevant.” The gaze of the professor never left Sweetie Belle’s own eyes. “Part of the purpose of the law is to encourage you to settle on British shores.”
“But . . . but . . . but . . . but,” Sweetie Belle sputtered, wondering what the buck she had gotten herself into.
“That pretty much accurately sums up my own reaction,” Professor McGonagall said then gestured at the letter she had been reading. “I have here a letter commanding you to claim your seat tomorrow at the monthly session.”
“But . . . but . . . but . . .” Sweetie Belle intelligently supplied.
“You may, of course, assign a proxy to act in your stead.”
Sweetie Belle shot Professor McGonagall a hopeful look. “Would you like to be my proxy?”
“I’m afraid I wear too many hats as it is.” Professor McGonagall shook her head. “Teacher, head of house, and deputy headmistress all take a good portion of my time as it stands. I would not be able to devote the time necessary for politics.”
Sweetie Belle thought for a second. “Okay, but how do I let them know I’ve chosen a proxy?”
<->
“I’d say it was about time we go get Hermione,” Parvati stated. “Supper will be soon, and I’m sure whatever Sweetie Belle was called for will see her at our table in time to eat. Hermione, on the other hand, seems the sort to ignore the passage of time if she has a book in front of her.”
This put the discussion of football versus quidditch on hold, which was a good thing since Dean, Seamus, and Ron were starting to get heated in their debate. Apple Bloom looked up from where she was talking potions with the twins and then reached over to nudge the napping Scootaloo.
“Huh? What?” Scootaloo snapped awake.
“Get a move on, Scoots,” Dean insisted. “Time to get a meal in ya.”
“Didn’t we just have scones?” she asked.
“That was hours ago,” Lavender corrected as she started up the stairs. “Come now, we have to collect Hermione first.”
“Why aren’t we traveling by phoenix?” Scootaloo yawned as she gained her feet.
“Philomena took off a while ago.” Harry explained, “I think she went to find Sweetie Belle.”
<->
Rarity was just finishing her evening dishes when there was a knock on her door. Humming to herself, she crossed her showroom and opened the door to find Rainbow Dash waiting patiently.
“Good evening darling,” Rarity drawled, stepping to the side so Rainbow that could enter. “What a surprise; you don’t normally call so late.”
“Yeah.” Rainbow rubbed the back of her head with a hoof. “I was hoping I could pump you for information.”
“Pump me for information?” Rarity closed the door behind Rainbow Dash and led her into sitting room. “Are you sure you don’t want Twilight instead?”
“Twilight’s the best for the bookish stuff.” Rainbow explained. “What I need now is real hooves-on experience.”
“Oh?” Rarity raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Are you needing vestments for a special occasion?”
“No, no.” Rainbow sat on her haunches and waved her foreleg dismissively. “none of that fru-fru stuff. I wanted to know how you manage to practically raise Sweetie Belle and still run a successful business.”
Rarity blinked in surprise. “That’s a rather specific subject.” Then, she gasped, “Have you found somepony that you want to have a foal with?”
“What?!” Jumping to her hooves Rainbow Dash started shaking her head vigorously. “No, that’s not it!”
Rarity couldn’t help but giggle happily at her friend’s discomfort and was about to press the point when an owl flew in an open window.
“Oh look.” Rainbow thankfully pointed at the bird. “You’ve got mail.”
“So, it would seem,” Rarity acknowledged and retrieved a rather thick envelope from the bird. “I still think it is odd to send mail by owls.”
“That looks too official to be from the fillies,” Rainbow noted as she examined the package in Rarity’s magical grasp.
“Hmm, you are correct,” Rarity opened the envelope. “I’d better take a look at this; we can continue our conversation in a minute.”
Pulling out the first page, Rarity read the missive.
Dear Mrs. Rarity Belle,
This is your official notice that as of today, one Petunia Dursley has signed the magical guardianship of the minor Harry J. Potter over to your care. Since the acceptance of said responsibility was part of the contract you signed, there will be no delay in the implementation of the status change. Also, part of the signed paperwork is the acknowledgement of your right to assign a new caretaker for the minor. We hope that you take great care with this decision, considering the sensitivity of the matter.
Sincerely,
James Tilley
Ministry of Magic: Hall of Records
While Rainbow Dash looked on curiously, Rarity stared at the page for a second then said, “What?” . With her eyes narrowing, Rarity pulled out the next page.
Dear Mrs. Rarity Belle,
This is your receipt for the filing and notarization of the binding marriage contract between one Harry J. Potter and Sweetie Belle. Let it be known that the contract has been validated through means of magical inspection and all signatures have been confirmed as authentic. The original is properly filed in the hall of records and as such considered legally binding. A copy of the contract has been included for your records.
Sincerely,
James Tilley
Ministry of Magic: Hall of Records
Rarity’s mouth was hanging open by the time she finished the second letter.
“What?” Rainbow Dash prodded Rarity’s side with a hoof, “Are the fillies, okay? What’s wrong?”
“Rainbow, darling,” Rarity said as she pulled the remaining paperwork from the envelope, “would you be so kind as to fetch me my bat? I fear I will be needing it after all.”
<->
Albus Dumbledore was at his desk, poring over a book detailing the magic theory behind prophecies, when the owl arrived. Seeing that it was from the ministry, he put a bookmark in the tome he had been reading and examined the missive. He barely finished the last line before he bounded to his feet and hurried to the floo. It looked like he would be paying a late-night visit to the Ministry.
<->
Arthur Weasley was spending a quiet evening with his wife. Without the children in the house, the only unexpected noise was the occasional banging from the resident ghoul in the attic. After a stressful day at work, it was relaxing not to have any immediate worries to concern himself over.
True to form, just as he was settling into the couch with his wife an owl arrived and started tapping at the window to be let in. Sighing, Arthur waved his wand to open the window and was dismayed to see it was a ministry owl. What could they want that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?
He had barely gotten the letter in hand when another owl arrived and made its way to Molly. On that one, Arthur could see that it was from his son Bill, no reason for concern. Taking the dive, Arthur opened his letter and skimmed the contents. Dumbfounded by what he had gleaned, he reread the letter. Then to be sure, he read it a third time.
“What is it dear?” Molly asked apprehensively as she held the unopened letter from Bill.
“I’ve,” Arthur stopped to lick his lips and tried again, “I’ve been given a proxy seat on the Wizengamot.”
“You're joking!” Molly gasped, fully aware that the Weasley family had been dreaming of regaining a seat for more than a century. “How is that even possible?”
“It appears that we have a phoenix-bound, little unicorn animagus to thank for this.” Arthur waved the Ministry letter for emphasis.
The two adults sat in silence for a minute as the implications sank in. Finally, Arthur said, “Are you going to read Bill’s letter? There is no way it can be more shocking than this.”
Tittering at her husband’s attempt at levity, Molly opened her son’s letter and read. By the time she had finished, her eyes were wide and mouth was gaping open.
Letting the hand holding the letter drop Molly turned to her husband and said, “Arthur, your son wants to know why it appears he has access to a discretionary account with ten thousand galleons.”