Dinner was a salad that Spike previously had prepared and placed in their refrigerator — basically a big wooden box with a magic spell on it to keep everything in it cold.
Twilight floated three big bowls onto the kitchen table and sat down. Spike hopped up onto a special chair that put him at the right height to eat. That left several other chairs grouped around the table. Apparently Twilight frequently had guests over to eat. Harry managed to climb up onto the chair where his salad had been placed. He had to prop his fore-hooves on the table.
And yes, he was right, Spike did eat jewels.
“But isn’t that expensive? Where I come from jewels are not cheap,” Harry said, staring.
“Nah,” said Spike, “You can find them all over the place out here. The expensive ones are the ones that can be enchanted.”
Harry shook his head wonderingly. “Where I come from, jewels of any kind are valuable and expensive. And enchanting is what they look like, not something you do to them.” He was amazed at the thought that what he considered valuable was as common as dirt.
He looked around his bowl for any silverware. He was about to ask where the forks were when he noticed that Twilight had levitated the salad into her muzzle and started chowing down. He frowned as he watched her, then decided to give it a try himself.
After several moments of nothing happening, Twilight noticed his difficulty and sighed. He felt a warmth around his . . . forehead . . . and a moment later he saw a large ring float over to Twilight. “I don’t think you need this anymore, do you?”
Harry had forgotten about that thing after wearing it for so long. It was as if a fog had lifted from his thoughts. They were clearer now. He shook his head, and again turned to stare at his salad.
“Spike, would you get Harry a knife and fork?”
“He’s a unicorn!”
“He also has never used his magic before.”
Sighing, the dragon-child grumpily got down from his chair and retrieved the utensils from a drawer.
“Hmm,” Twilight said quietly, “This is odd. This suppression ring is cracked.” She held it up rotating in front of her eyes. “It must have been defective.” She gave him a contemplative look. “I wonder when that happened.” A smile quirked her lips. “I guess we’re lucky you didn’t teleport away earlier, right?” She placed the broken ring on the table.
Harry just stared back at her.
Spike hopped back up onto his chair, sliding a knife and fork over to him.
Using what he used to call his index finger, Harry managed to pick up the fork.
At first he was taken aback when he saw the dandelions in his bowl, but then, he reflected, that as an herbivore such things were normal. To his surprise, it actually tasted good. All too soon he found himself licking the bowl clean — which Twilight never said a word about — and that was in spite of stuffing himself earlier with muffins and cupcakes!
The rest of the evening they spent with her teaching him how to levitate things. By the time he started yawning, and protesting he wasn’t the least bit sleepy, he had managed to lift a bottle cork.
He marvelled that his bed really was right beside Twilight’s.
He had never felt anything so soft before in his life, and he fell asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
۸-~-۸
Going down stairs as a quadruped was not a pleasant experience, Harry decided. The moment his butt was higher than his head, his brain insisted he was about to take a header down the stairs and to immediately stand and go down the stairs standing upright, like a proper monkey. So, he did. And it worked just fine. He wobbled a bit, and there wasn’t a railing to hold onto, but he made it.
Unfortunately, the next time he went down the stairs, Twilight was watching and he tried to do it as a pony would. And ended up tumbling the entire way down. It wasn’t too awful, that is he didn’t have a concussion nor a broken arm like the time Dudley had pushed him, but it was still disagreeable. It would take a lot of practice before he would ever feel comfortable doing that. He decided to learn how to teleport as soon as possible — if he could do it by accident, then he could bloody well do it on purpose! That way he could skip the stairs.
Harry stopped the moment he saw the school house. It was as unlike the primary school in Little Whinging as he could imagine. It was a wooden building, red, with fancy decorations of lines and diamonds painted on the walls. Giant hearts had been carved into the walls and then windows placed in them such that the tops of the windows almost covered the hearts, leaving the hearts’ tops and sides in view. The windows were tall and thin, easily double the height of the hearts, with a set of three visible on the side he could see. The roof was steep, with a bell tower capped by a heart-and-arrow shaped weathervane, and the roof’s edges were decorated with more hearts and curled lines. There was even a porch with its own tiny roof decorated exactly the same as the main roof. A flagpole was beside the building, featuring a galloping pony at the top and a red flag that ended with two points.
It was, without a doubt, the most girly building he could imagine.
And it terrified him.
In Little Whinging he had been excited to go to kindergarten, at first. A chance to get out of the Dursley house and actually meet other kids! Kids that weren’t Dudley’s friends, kids that Dudley hadn’t bullied into avoiding him. Kids whose parents didn’t think he was a miniature hoodlum.
That hadn’t lasted the day. Dudley had either chased off anyone interested in being a friend or alerted the other bullies about a new victim. He was right back where he had been at the house, only with more bullies. And, rather quickly, the other kids had discovered he was the perfect mug. They could do almost anything they wanted and as long as the teacher didn’t actually see them do it, they could blame Harry without worrying about getting into trouble themselves. Even the nice kids took advantage of the get-out-of-jail-free card that blaming Harry gave them.
Harry had discovered later that his uncle had sent a letter, via Dudley, to the teachers explaining that Harry was “untrustworthy.” That he was a liar and a thief. That if anything went wrong, it was most likely Harry at fault. And, for some reason, the teachers had taken what his uncle had said as gospel truth.
Since then, every advance in grade had been with the same kids as the previous year. The kids who had been interested in being a friend had turned on him. He became the outsider — no one liked him, everyone was mean to him. Sure there might be one or two new kids from families that had just moved to Little Whinging, but for the most part it was always the same group of bullies — almost everyone else in the class. And the new kids, perhaps being afraid of being treated the same as he was, went along with the group. Soon, they, too, blamed him for things they had done because they knew they could get away with it. Or they were mean to him because they needed someone lower in social rank than they were to vent their frustrations on.
Was this going to be the same? Was he again going to be blamed for anything and everything that went wrong? Was he going to be alone in a group?
“Are you alright, Harry?” She had noticed him shivering and the panicky look in his eyes. “There’s nothing to worry about. You’ll make lots of new friends. You already have three in Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom,” Twilight said warmly.
Harry wasn’t convinced. After the previous night’s total freak-out he wasn’t so sure they would want to have anything to do with him. That’s what would have happened in Little Whinging. Whoever had seen his melt-down would eagerly tell their friends while laughing, and then the entire class would spend days making fun of him. And ostracising him. In addition to their normal “blame Harry” incidents.
He took a shaky step forward and they slowly advanced to the school, with Harry dreading every step. Twilight kept encouraging and nudging him, but he didn’t hear a word of it over the pounding of his own heart and fears. He wasn’t like the rest. He was a person masquerading as a pony. Once again, he was the freak, the weird one in the bunch, the one who was different. They just didn’t know it, yet. But when they did . . . .
This time everything was backwards. The unicorns could do magic, the pegasi could fly, and the rest could make plants grow. All he could do was teleport when he was terrified out of his mind. He was a one trick fake pony.
Cheerilee met them at the door. “Oh, good! You’re right on time. Class will start in about half an hour and I want to go over a few things with you, Harry Potter.” She looked over to Twilight. “You can stay, if you want.”
Twilight looked at the way Harry was shivering, “Yes, I think I will, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Come on inside.”
Inside, Harry could see that the school was divided into two classrooms, one on each side, with a small anteroom for cloaks and boots.
“This room,” she pointed to the left, “is for the older students, like you Harry Potter.” She gave him a quick smile. “The other is for younger students and my assistant, Miss Hackney, teaches them.”
Harry nodded jerkily.
“What I’d like to do is for you to be up here by my desk when the school bell rings, then after everypony is seated, I’ll introduce you. I’ll tell them you just got out of the hospital yesterday and you might still be a little unsettled. Alright?”
Harry nodded in tandem with Twilight.
“Your desk will be this one here,” she said, walking into the classroom and placing her hoof on the back of a chair at the rear of the classroom. There were twelve desks, three across by four deep. His desk would be in the last row and in the middle. Each desk had a small stool to sit on.
Harry nodded.
“Now, then,” she continued, walking to the front of the classroom, “You’re more than a little behind the other students regarding Equestria’s history, so you’ll need to study hard to catch up.” She looked back at him. “I’m sure your little friends will be happy to help you. And if they can’t, Twilight can!” Twilight chuckled along with Cheerilee. “Your reading is slightly above your age level, Harry Potter, so that will help. Unfortunately, you can’t write with either your unicorn magic or mouth writing, so I’ll have to give you remedial lessons after school until you’re reasonably proficient.” She looked at Twilight. “It’ll be about an hour at first, then drop to half-an-hour for a while. Whatever help you can give him at the Library will speed that up.”
She stopped and stared at Twilight. “He’s a colt. He doesn’t have your single-mindedness. He needs time to play with his friends. No more than an hour a night! Okay?”
Twilight blinked, then nodded, “Yes, of course.”
“Your math skills are quite good, Harry Potter. You’re ready for secondary arithmetic already, a year ahead of your age group, which I’m told is almost ten.” She looked back at Twilight, “You might see if he has any interest in pursuing that, it would help with his spell casting, as you know.” She turned back to Harry, “I might ask you to help out some of the other students, if you think you wouldn’t mind?”
Harry stared at her, momentarily stunned out of his nervousness. Him? Help others? He nodded several times, “Er, yes, if you think I can help,” he said shyly.
“Excellent,” she said, very pleased. “Well, why don’t you put your school things in your desk while we’re waiting?”
A few minutes later he was back beside her desk. Waiting for the school bell. Listening to the growing crowd of ponies outside calling and yelling to each other. He noticed a couple of ponies poking their noses into the room and rapidly retreating upon seeing him. He kept shivering. He tried to control it by locking his knees, but that didn’t help. He couldn’t stop taking small gasps of air, and then nervously swallowing, as he stood there, waiting and trying not to run out of the room in a panic.
Finally, the minute hand of clock at the back of the room reached eleven. Cheerilee grabbed the rope in the room’s corner closest to the hall, and her desk, with her mouth and yanked down. The bell above the school began to ring.
Immediately he heard the stomping of hooves on the porch and running into the anteroom, then several ponies boisterously burst into the classroom, hurrying towards their desks. The first three through the door stopped only steps into the room, causing a bottleneck as the ones behind them, not expecting the leaders to stop, crashed into them and knocked them all to the floor.
Harry blinked at the pile of ponies at the classroom door. If he hadn’t been so anxious, he would have laughed at the jumble. It took several minutes to sort out as the ponies outside tried to push their way in so they wouldn’t be counted late and kept knocking down the ponies in front as they tried to stand back up. Cheerilee just stood and shook her head ruefully. Twilight hid her grin behind her hoof.
Finally, every pony was seated and staring at Harry. Except for the Cutie Mark Crusaders, of course, they were waving hello. They were in a group at the back, with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom sitting in front of Sweetie Belle. His desk was behind Scootaloo and beside Sweetie Belle. He smiled wanly at them, still taking small panicky gulps of air. His stomach hurt, too.
“Good morning, everypony!”
“Good morning, Miss Cheerilee,” responded the class.
She smiled broadly. “Today, we have a new student, Mister Harry Potter!” She waved a hoof towards him. “He’s only recently arrived in Equestria, so he’s going to need a bit of help in catching up with us in some subjects, such as Equestrian history, geography, the Princesses, and the nobles. Plus, he only got out of the hospital yesterday, so he is still a bit unsteady on his hooves. He’s recovering from breaking his shoulders, so please, no rough-housing until he’s completely recovered.” She stared at a couple of the colts.
“Now, then Harry Potter, would you like to tell us a little bit about yourself?”
Harry startled and stared at her, wide-eyed. She hadn’t told him she would do that! He looked out into the classroom and saw everypony looking at him expectantly. He opened his mouth, and at first nothing came out. But then, something did . . . .
All that air he had gulped came back up.
In other words, he belched.
Not a simple small burp, like from an upset stomach or a soda. No, this was different.
It was clear. It was loud. It was long.
And he couldn’t stop it.
Harry had heard telly shows where fog horns blew in the background.
This was deeper. This was louder. This was longer.
He could feel the floor vibrating under his hooves. Or was it that he was vibrating against the floor?
He imagined he could hear the windows shaking in their frames.
He sat back and clamped both fore-hooves over his mouth the moment it stopped. He stared at Miss Cheerilee, horrified. She’d throw him out for sure!
She was staring back at him in astonishment, as was Twilight.
The class stared at him in amazement. Most of the girls’ shocked expressions slowly moved to frowns of disapproval, although more than a couple of the colts grinned widely in delight. One loudly said, “Wicked!” and started to laugh. “That was awesome!” said another, laughing as well. Soon, the entire class was laughing.
Harry just stared at Cheerilee. It was only when the edges of her mouth twitched up and she said, “Well, that’s a memorable introduction!” that he started to relax. “Well,” she continued after a pause, “You might as well take your seat, Harry Potter.”
“Harry,” he mumbled, “Just call me Harry.” His face was hot with embarrassment, but at least his stomach didn’t hurt, anymore.
She nodded, “Okay . . .Harry.” And smiled.
All three of his filly friends gave him hoof bumps as he sat, and broad grins. Scootaloo murmured, “Wicked introduction!” to him
Morning recess was a mob around Harry as they all tried to question him. He tried to be as honest as possible without revealing he had come through a portal. He didn’t want them to think he was any more abnormal than he already appeared.
Twilight waved goodbye as she headed off to do whatever it was she did.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, Diamond Tiara brought everything to a halt. “That’s not a Cutie Mark! That’s a scar! What happened to you?” She pointed at his flank as she, and everyone else, stared at Harry’s butt, aghast.
Harry shrugged as he shuffled, embarrassed at the attention to his naked butt. “I don’t know, that’s always been there.” He tried to tuck his tail close.
She looked around at everypony and asked, “Does that mean you can’t get a Cutie Mark?” She shrank back, as if afraid she might catch a disease.
Harry shrugged again. “Twilight said I should get a Cutie Mark when the time comes. And that it might even erase the scar when it does. Or not.” He didn’t care one way or another. He didn’t understand what the fuss was about, he just wished they’d stop staring at his butt.
The end of recess brought an end to that line of questioning.
Lunchtime was fun. It was the first time he had ever had someone to play with on the swings and slides. And watching the pegasi fly around playing tag was enlightening. You had to watch in all directions!
As she had said, Cheerilee spent an hour with him after school teaching him how to hold a pencil in his mouth and write. The straight strokes weren’t straight, and circles were impossible. But even he could see an improvement when they stopped.
Twilight walked him back to the library while grilling him on his day.
However, before he started on more practice, either with his mouth writing or his magic, she wanted to do an experiment.
“I’ve spent all day devising these experiments, so we’ll know where to concentrate our efforts!”
۸- ̫ -۸
“Umm, Twilight?” Harry asked nervously, “I normally don't question the scientific method, but are you really sure this is going to work?” (*)
“First off, the scientific method is a body of techniques for investigating the phenomena of our world. What we are doing is simply one step in that process,” she replied airily while making sure the straps on Harry’s colander helmet were secure. Wires came out of it to the boxy desk his forelegs were propped against, and thence to some equipment at the side of the room. “Secondly, I know this will work. The Whooves-Gait test is the most accurate and well-known magical analytic test in existence.”
Harry gave Twilight a worried look.
“Now, because I’m doing a test on your magic you’re going to feel a slight tingle just under your fur.” Twilight put a pair of welder’s goggles over her eyes and then gloves, — no, gloves were for hands, those must be socks on her front hooves. They looked to be made of rubber. Those were for protection from the electricity, he supposed. He only now noticed that she had thigh-high work boots on her rear legs and was wearing a rather thick lab coat. “This tingling is normal, but please say something if you feel a burning sensation, all right?” she said soothingly
“What’s with the goggles and that outfit?” he asked worriedly.
“Safety first!” she said kindly as she pulled down a large electrical lever. Harry was not reassured. He winced as the lever clicked home.
The test was . . . well, it was strange. Harry squirmed a bit and tried to keep from laughing, but it wasn't easy. It felt as if someone had taken a feather and was using it to tickle every square centimetre of him. Thankfully, it only lasted for ten seconds before Twilight switched the machine off and moved eagerly to the printout that was now spewing from an opening on the side of the machine.
He was very relieved to discover that his scar had barely hurt at all, just a mild warm feeling on his forehead.
“Well,” Twilight said after perusing the printout. “You seem to have a normal affinity for magic. The magic surrounding you — a shield, for want of a better word — isn’t hostile and seems quite passive. However, the spell fragment in your forehead is hostile and the shield is only active at that location — the two seem to be in equilibrium with one another. The shield is powered by itself, apparently, which should be impossible. I suspect my test isn’t sensitive enough, which would mean that the ambient magic in the world is supporting the shield. And being ambient magic it shouldn’t be powerful enough to do that.”
She looked up at Harry. “You said you’ve always had that scar, so that must mean that there is magic in your world, or both the spell fragment in your scar and the shield would have fallen apart long ago.”
She danced a little quick-step, spinning in place, grinning broadly with her eyes wide and gleaming. “Oh, this is soo exciting! A self-sustaining shield without runes!” She looked over at her equipment. “I’ll get started on modifying this for tomorrow!” She sighed happily. “You, on the other hoof, should start practising your mouth-writing!”
Harry sighed and headed upstairs.
۸-~-۸
Borrowed from Irrespective’s story “No Nose Knows,” fimfiction. With a few . . . alterations. (Included here just so I could do the omake below. And it’s an omake because Harry’s reaction is totally out of character for him at this time.)
“Umm, Twilight?” Harry asked nervously, “I normally don't question the scientific method, but are you really sure this is going to work?”
“First off, the scientific method is a body of techniques for investigating the phenomena of our world. What we are doing is simply one step in that process,” she replied airily while making sure the straps on Harry’s colander-turned-into-a-helmet were secure. “Secondly, I know this will work. The Whooves-Gait test is the most accurate and well-known magical analytic test in existence.”
Harry looked at the straps securing his fore-legs to the equipment he was leaning against. He gave Twilight an apprehensive look as she tugged on the rear-leg straps to make sure they, too, were secure. He was well and truly bound in place.
“Now, since I’m doing a test on your magic you’re going to feel a slight tingle just under your fur.” Twilight giggled oddly while putting a pair of welder’s goggles over her eyes and then black gloves — no, gloves were for hands, those must be socks on her front hooves. They were thickly quilted rubber, he thought. He only now noticed that she had thigh-high work boots on her rear legs — shiny black boots that looked sturdy enough to wade through lava.
She levitated a bulky white lab coat over her torso. According to the telly shows, lab-coats with stiff quilted criss-crossed stitching were usually lead-lined. “This tingling is normal and nothing to worry about,” she continued. “But please say something if you hear screaming that isn’t you, you start seeing dead ponies, or you feel as if your horn is being ripped out of your skull, all right?” she concluded sweetly and much too cheerfully.
He was becoming seriously alarmed and would have left, if he could, especially after that last statement. “What’s with the goggles and that outfit? And is all this,” he nodded and tugged at the straps as he asked nervously, “really necessary?” He gulped. He was even more immobile than he had been in the casts at the hospital.
“Safety first!” she shouted as she grabbed a large electrical lever and laughed maniacally. “Prepare to do SCIENCE!” she yelled enthusiastically as she yanked the lever down.
Harry was not reassured.
Harry wondered why she didn’t use her magic to pull the lever.
Harry winced as the lever clicked home.
There was a moment’s thoughtful silence. Then he screamed. Twilight reflexively slammed the lever to the opposite position. “Harry!” she yelled, panic-stricken.
He slumped back into the chair.
His head lolled to the side, eyes almost closed.
“I’msorryI’msorry!” she shouted as she darted over to him. “Whereareyouhurt?” She began frantically casting diagnostic spells.
He cracked an eyelid wider open and looked at her, grinning widely. “Gotcha!” he whispered. Then he started to laugh.
Twilight stared at him uncomprehendingly. Slowly, she sat back onto the floor.
“You should have seen your face!” he said, between bouts of laughter. “You should see your face, now!” he amended, laughing even harder as he tried to point a strap-restrained hoof at her.
Later, as he hung magically stuck by his hooves to the basement ceiling, he shouted, “I regret nothing, nothing, I say.” He chortled. “Oh, god, her expression! Purr-riceless!”
Up above, he heard the library door open and hoof-steps enter. They came to a slow stop. After a moment, he heard Applejack say, “Twilight? Why is yer basement giggling?”
۸- ̬ -۸