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// 29 — The Naked Lunch 
// Story: If Wishes were Ponies . . . . 
// by tkepner 
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Twilight rolled her eyes at Pinkie's antics and turned her around to face the table. She then pushed her down into a chair, and sat beside her. Harry sat beside Twilight, hoping to head off any misunderstanding for the vegetarian Equestrians. He couldn’t even imagine how they would react to juicy luncheon steak, or even a simple bangers and mash. One visit to a meat counter, and experimenting with bacon at breakfast, wasn’t preparation enough.

After everyone had seated themselves, Harry noticed there were two unoccupied seats. Had the barkeep miscounted them? 

Tom was staring, stunned, at the pink-haired woman. He remembered the incredible chaos that this one person had inflicted upon his staid pub just this morning, and now the entire pub was in an uproar again. A happy uproar — he could see one wizard laughing so hard he had tears going down his face and he would swear that one witch was about wet her pants she was laughing so hard — but nothing like his normal, quiet pub. A pub that hadn’t had this many customers in many a year. He turned and went back to the bar. He stopped dead on seeing his reflection in the bar’s mirror. He looked at the reflection of the rest of his pub and the laughing. He shrugged and went behind the bar. He said something to the witch standing in the door to the kitchen, who was trying to stifle her own giggles.

She hurried over to them as the Equestrians settled in around the table. Professor McGonagall was staring at Pinkie Pie, who was grinning back at her, very pleased with herself.

“Would you like a cupcake?” she said holding one out to the professor. The witch slowly shook her head, “No, thanks, I don’t want to spoil my appetite.”

“Okey doki loki!” Pinkie said, downing the entire cupcake in one impossibly big bite. “Beff iea arri err ha’ . . . .” she said.

“Pinkie! How many times do I have to tell you no talking while chewing!” Twilight said sharply.

Pinkie looked chagrined, but made a show of swallowing. “I said,” she giggled, “best idea Harry ever had, making the cupcake cups edible!”

The rest rolled their eyes.

“What’ll you have?” the serving witch asked.

Harry, hoping to head off a disaster, loudly said, “What meatless salads do you have?” The Equestrians looked at him, puzzled — weren’t all salads meatless by definition? Then they looked slightly nauseated as they realized that his action of even asking  meant that here they would put meat from an animal in a lovely salad. They gave an uncertain look around the pub.

“We have an English Garden salad: Onions, cucumber, goat cheese, tomatoes, potatoes, and red beans, with a mayonnaise, mustard and honey dressing. Then we have a Ploughman’s salad: Cubed ciabatta bread, cherry tomatoes, gem lettuces, sliced red onions, cored and sliced apple, six pickled onions, and grated Cheddar with an olive oil, cider vinegar, and brown sugar dressing. And we have a pea and bean salad. Peas, corn, green beans, pimentos, celery, bell pepper and onion with a marinated sugar, black pepper, salt, oil, and vinegar dressing.”

“Oh,” said Applejack, “I’ll have the Ploughman’s!”

“Me, too,” said Apple Bloom.

The other’s quickly made their selections.

Professor McGonagall watched and noted that none of the Equestrians seemed interested in the rest of the pub’s menu.

Harry gave a sidelong glance at Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash. “Dash, Scoots? I’d suggest the fish and chips.” They shrugged. Harry looked up at the witch taking their orders. “Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo, and I will have the fish and chips, please.” He pointed out the other two to the waitress.

McGonagall said, “Oh, if you don’t mind, I’ll change my salad to a fish and chips.”

“And to drink?” queried the server.

“Do ya’ll got Apple Cider?” asked Applejack

“Yes, we do.

Twilight looked around at the others who nodded. “We’ll all have that,” she said.

“Even the children?”

Twilight cocked her head sideways. “Is there a reason why they shouldn’t?”

“Well, it is alcohol.”

Twilight looked at the others. They all shrugged.

“Um, Twilight?” Harry said. She looked at him. “I think we should have apple juice instead.”

“Okay, if you think so.” Twilight nodded to the witch, who noted it down and headed back to the kitchen.

Twilight looked at Harry, “Why is Apple Cider a problem?”

Harry thought a moment and glanced at the Professor listening intently. He leaned close and whispered, “Well, you know how too much salt is bad for ponies back home?”

Twilight nodded.

“For people, alcohol is like salt is to ponies. And salt to people is nothing except it makes things taste better. So, the apple cider here is like the ‘special stock’ apple-salt cider Applejack has hidden away.”

Her eyes went wide at that.

Twilight frowned deeply, clearly thinking about the differences in metabolism it would take to make alcohol affect humans the way salt affected ponies. Harry knew she would probably be lost in thought until their lunch arrived. Maybe it had something to do with the way magic flowed through the mana-pathways in their bodies.

Abruptly, there was a flare of green light from the big fireplace at the other end of the room. To the Equestrians’ amazement, a wizard stepped out of the flames. He was tall, thin, and very old, with a silvery beard that reached all the way to his waist. He wore long robes and a purple cloak that swept the ground.

He started for the bar as he looked casually around the room. He saw their table and smiled. He reached up and touched his glasses, then winced and blinked rapidly. He adjusted his glasses and, still smiling, changed direction to head their way. As he got closer, Harry could see he had bright light-blue eyes sparkling behind half-moon spectacles. His nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. Why he hadn't fixed it properly was beyond Harry. He had an extraordinarily long beard that reached to his waist. A braided string was halfway down it, making it look like a front-facing pony-tail. Harry thought it looked silly. Pony-tails, like Applejack favoured, belonged in the back, not the front.

“Professor McGonagall,” he called, “What a pleasure to see you. I thought you might still be showing the new students around.”

“Good morning, Headmaster,” she replied, standing to greet him, “we just finished. Their wand selection took much less time than I thought it would.” She smiled uncertainly, glancing at the herd. “They were quite . . . efficient.” She cleared her throat. “This is the Headmaster at Hogwarts, Professor Albus Dumbledore.”

Harry stared at the wizard intently. This was the man responsible for those disgraceful books. Harry didn’t like any adults, except ponies, and this one now had two strikes against him. Just looking at him made Harry angry. He glanced at Applejack. She was frowning slightly at the old wizard. Good, Harry thought. It’s not just me. He took a deep breath and tried to relax.

“Are these new students?” the old wizard asked looking at Harry and the girls.

“Yes, they are, Albus.” She pointed at Harry, “This is Mr. Harry Potter.” She moved on to the girls, pointing at each in turn around the table. “Miss Scoot Aloo, Miss Sweetie Belle, Miss Apple Bloom, and Miss Hermione Granger.” Each nodded and said a soft, “Hello.”

The wizard nodded to each, murmuring their names in turn. Harry noticed that in his case the old wizard had looked at his forehead, at his faded scar, instead of actually at him. Something about the way he studied it made Harry uneasy. As if he expected it to be or mean more than simple scar.

Then she moved on to the relatives. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” Mr. Granger stood and reached across the table to shake the wizard’s hand while Mrs. Granger nodded. “And this is Miss Twilight Sparkle, Miss Pinkie Pie, Miss Rarity — who is Miss Belle’s sister, right?” She waited for Rarity to nod. “Miss Fluttershy . . . ,” who peered at the Headmaster through her fringe and scooted closer to Rainbow Dash, “Miss Apple Jack, who is Miss Bloom’s sister.” Applejack smiled proudly at her sister. “And Miss Rainbow Dash.”

Dumbledore greeted them, his gaze lingering on both Twilight and Pinkie Pie.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your journey through Diagon Alley,” he said sincerely, glancing around the table and finally focusing on the children. “I imagine you five are quite thrilled at getting your wands.” They nodded enthusiastically.

“What wand did you get, Harry?” He looked at the boy, his gaze again stopping on the partially hidden scar.

“Oh, I don’t have it yet. Mr. Ollivander is putting it together for me. For all of us, actually.”

“Really?” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. “That is most unusual. Normally he has a wand right in his shop that is a perfect match. Did he not have the right cores or wood for your wands?”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t it at all. The Princesses . . . I mean Celestia and Luna gave me their . . . the hairs from alicorns that they thought I could use in my wand. Scootaloo had a feather from a Pegasus, Sweetie had a unicorn hair, and Bloom had a piece of wood from the apple tree her great-great-great-grandfather planted hundreds of years ago and a hair from an earth-pony. And Twilight gave Hermione a hair from another alicorn and a piece of wood from her library tree. Mr. Ollivander said they were great fits!” Harry almost missed the way Dumbledore’s eyebrow twitched slightly at hearing the words earth-pony and alicorns.

“Did he, now,” the wizard said in a kindly tone, contemplating what Harry had said and leaning back in his chair to think.

The fireplace flared green again and this time two people came out, a wizard and a witch, one after the other. They brushed themselves off and went towards the exit to the Alley. It was the start of a stream of wizards and witches coming through the fireplace at short, regular intervals. Many of them were escorting children either the same age as himself and the girls, or older.

Some headed for open tables in the pub, or joined friends, to have lunch before heading into the Alley, Harry presumed. All stopped to take a long look at the big banner over the bar and the strangely made-up barkeep, Tom. There were more than a few smiles and snickers in reaction to the sight. The bartender just smiled and waved at them.

Harry sighed as the others nodded. “But we won’t get them for seven days.”

“Seven days?” That specific length of time was important, if Harry read the old wizard’s expression right.

“Yeah.” The kids all looked a bit down knowing they would have to wait a week.

“Why don’t you join us, Albus?”

Dumbledore looked over at the strange sight that was Tom the bartender. “Yes, I think I shall.” He pulled out his wand and a gentle wave transformed the normal dining chair into a plush dining armchair. He settled into it with some satisfaction.

Their waitress witch showed up at that point with a floating tower of carefully stacked dishes, which she quickly glided into place in front of each of her customers. Harry was so glad he showed the Equestrians how people used knives, forks, and spoons. The alicorn and unicorns had caught on quickly, although he thought that they were cheating by using their magic to manipulate the utensils and simply pretending they were using their hands.

Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy had always used their wing feathers as fingers, so that wasn’t too much of a transition to using real fingers. Of course, they had it easier because fish and chips were finger foods, and nothing that required utensils. The others were not so fortunate. Harry kept his head down and concentrated on his fish and chips and hoped it wasn’t too much of a spectacle. Scootaloo and Dash watched what he did and followed his lead.

Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster, and the Grangers were very puzzled as they watched, surreptitiously, as the Equestrians fumbled their utensils as they tried to eat their lunches. It was as if they had never used them before. Or only rarely.

Fortunately, or at least Harry thought it was fortunate, the fireplace flared green again, a wizard stepped out, looked around, spotted their table, and headed over towards them. This wizard stood out from the rest of the patrons at the pub in that he was tall and thin with bright red hair. He wore glasses and had blue eyes.

Harry realized the new wizard had spotted the Headmaster and was headed for him with a big relaxed smile.

As he drew near, Dumbledore looked over at him and smiled, “Arthur! Come sit with us.” Professor McGonagall looked up, distracted from her surreptitious study of the mysterious foreigners. The other wizard smiled in return and said, “Of course, Headmaster.”

The old wizard turned to the rest of table. “I was originally going to have lunch with Arthur. I hope you don’t mind if he sits with us. He works at the Ministry of Magic.”

Harry smirked as he saw Applejack give the Headmaster a distrustful look.

They all said they didn’t mind and the Headmaster introduced them to Arthur Weasley. After telling Arthur their names, he added, “Arthur has three boys at Hogwarts, with another starting this year. A daughter, Ginny, will be starting next year.”

“The Grangers,” he said, speaking to Arthur, “are escorting their muggle-born daughter through the Alley today.” Mr. Granger having already shaken hands with the newly arrived wizard, nodded, as did Mrs Granger. Hermione watched quietly.

Arthur sat down in the chair the old wizard had just conjured. Harry noticed that the table was now full instead of having any empty places. He wondered about that. How had the bartender known two more wizards would join them? Had it all been arranged beforehand? Being with the Cutie Mark Crusaders had taught him to distrust coincidences — they almost always resulted in the Crusaders being covered in tree-sap. He took an intent look around the pub for hidden trees or buckets of sap.

“The rest of our guests,” the Headmaster continued, “are foreign witches, I believe.” His eyes twinkling, he looked at Harry, “Except for Harry, here, of course.”

Arthur looked at the older wizard, eyebrow raised.

Twilight froze and stared at the old wizard. “Er, what?” she said cautiously.

He smiled gently, “That you can use magic is self-evident.” He nodded at the fork that was hovering over her plate.

She must have let go of the fork at some point without noticing. Not that that mattered, as she expected that Professor McGonagall had informed him of their magical abilities. It was the foreign part that threw her.

Twilight blushed and grabbed the fork. Harry buried his face in his hands. Scootaloo said, “Oops,” and exchanged smirks with the other fillies. Ha! It wasn’t their fault the truth was leaking out.

“You can do magic and if you had been born in England,” the wily old wizard continued, “you would have received a letter from Hogwarts when you were eleven. You didn’t, thus you aren’t from England."

Harry looked between his fingers, frowning. Professor McGonagall had to have told him they knew magic. So why the act? Or was that for anyone who might be listening?

“Am I correct?” He smiled at her, calmly, waiting.

She took a breath and thought a moment. “Princess Celestia is going to be so mad at me,” she murmured just loud enough for Harry to hear. She cleared her throat and said, softly, “Yes, we are new to this country, to this world, even.” She glanced around the pub, which was noisily ignoring them. “Does that change anything?” she asked carefully.

He smiled broadly, “No, of course not. The children have their Hogwarts’ letters, so they are admitted to Hogwarts. That you and your friends are strangers to England, and our world, is of no consequence.” He stroked his beard like an elderly grandfather would. “I am merely curious where you come from.”

“We had hoped we could get the fillies and Harry to Hogwarts without incident and then quietly return home.” She picked at her salad, taking a bite.

“Might I ask where your home is?”

Arthur and Professor McGonagall were listening closely, Harry noticed.

Twilight took a deep breath and looked at each of her friends. Pinkie was busily building a pyramid of muffins. Fluttershy had hidden herself behind Rainbow Dash, somehow, without moving from her chair. Dash had finished her fish and chips and was looking for their witch waitress. Rarity, like Harry, had buried her face in her hands, but was peeking between her fingers. Applejack shrugged at Twilight’s look. Twilight nodded to herself. “We’re from Ponyville.”

Harry's hands over his face masked his surprise at her answer.

That had been a long and involved discussion the previous night, she later told Harry. Princesses Celestia and Luna wanted normal relations with the humans. That is, trade and the exchange of ideas and technology. The wizards, on the other hand, wanted to keep their society a secret from the other humans. This led to a problem, a conflict of interest. The Equestrians didn't understand completely why the wizards and witches wanted to live that way, but they were not about to reveal the wizards and witches just so they could trade with the other humans.

In order to protect the wizard’s secrets, they would have to conceal certain facts.

He nodded agreeably. “Does everyone in . . . Ponyville use magic?” he asked, smiling. He knew they were concealing where they came from. It could only be because the name would draw undue attention. And there were few places with that sort of reputation. And Professor McGonagall's patronus message from Ollivander's reduced the number of possibilities even further.

Based on the Headmaster’s failing to recognize the name, Harry wondered if either Professor McGonagall or the Headmaster had ever seen the address on his Hogwarts’ letter, or were they were addressed and sent by magic? He hoped it was the latter.

Again, she glanced at her friends. She took another bite of her salad as a delaying tactic.

The witch waitress had seen Arthur arrive, and was now standing beside his chair. Dash leaned across the table and said, “I’ll have another of those fish and chips!” Arthur quickly placed his order for the same.

As soon as she left, Twilight answered Dumbledore’s question, “Yes.”

“And what of the muggles?”

Twilight looked at him blankly. “Muggles? Those are people without magic, right?” She glanced at Professor McGonagall. “There aren’t any muggles in Ponyville.”

The two wizards and the witch stared at her in surprise.

She tilted her head. “Or did I misunderstand your question?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. If anything, I probably worded the question incorrectly,” he said deprecatingly. He paused. “It’s just that I am unaware of any country that doesn’t also have muggles living there.”

Twilight smiled. “I think I understand your confusion. Every pony . . . person in our . . . homeland . . . uses magic.”

He frowned slightly. “Does it not happen that sometimes a child is born without that ability? Or so little that they cannot properly use it?”

Twilight leaned back in shock. “A fo . . . a child with little or no magic?” She looked uncertainly at the other mares. “I don’t think that’s possible. Everything in our homeland has magic. I know I would have read of such a thing in the Royal Library when I studied medicinal spells, if it had happened.” She frowned, thinking. “There is an extremely rare medical condition that afflicts some in the unicorn tribe,” she mused quietly, “where the mana pathways are underdeveloped or weak. But with little magic itself?” She hummed a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”

The wizards and witch exchanged looks. “Never?” said Dumbledore.

“Well, maybe not never — I suppose it could happen.” She frowned in thought. “Discord might know of such a thing happening when he ruled.” She shuddered. “But that was over fifteen hundred years ago.” She smiled. “So, none since then for sure, and probably for the thousand years before he overthrew the Princesses. Any parent with such a child would have rushed to Princess Celestia immediately. I’ll ask the Princesses and Discord when we go back, just to be sure.”

“Amazing,” Dumbledore said softly. Arthur and the professor exchanged thoughtful looks. Harry saw they had noticed how she had said Discord used to rule long ago and yet was still alive.

The witch returned with the orders for Arthur and Dash, and left.

“Professor McGonagall noticed last night that you were surprised we used wands.”

Twilight shrugged. “Magic is innate. Some are better at it than others. Some have bigger pools than others. But every . . . one has some. All you need is to memorize the spell matrix. Then it’s a simple matter of how much power you can supply. If you have enough, the spell works. If not, it doesn’t.”

She didn’t add that they had never thought of wands to facilitate using magic because unicorn horns were natural foci. And that pegasi, who worked magic through their wings, and earth-ponies, who worked magic through their hooves, wouldn’t have ever thought of using something else to focus their magic. It just hadn’t occurred to the ponies.

“Is all your magic non-verbal, then?”

“Actually, no,” Twilight said. “We do use singing for some spontaneous Harmony magic, usually triggered by strong emotions or desires. And sometimes we have used ancient runes to control magic.” The alicorn’s speech was reaching that familiar lecture mode the Equestrians knew so well. “In point of fact, Ponhenge has some very interesting runes . . . .” Harry elbowed her. “Ow!” She looked at him angrily.

“Focus, Twilight,” Applejack said dryly, “Focus!”

Twilight blushed and muttered, “Sorry.”

The old wizard looked disappointed.

“Might I ask how you and Harry met?” The old wizard’s eyes twinkled as he waited for an answer.

Twilight looked at Harry. He frowned, but then slowly nodded. She turned back to the Headmaster. “In truth, Harry found us. His . . . relatives . . . are not very nice.”

Applejack snorted. “Ought to throw the lot of them in the dungeons and throw away the key, I say.” Harry noticed that the old wizard saw Rainbow and Rarity nod solemnly. He sighed and hoped the wizards hadn’t noticed that AJ had said dungeons and not jail or prison.

Pinkie Pie had distributed and eaten the muffins in her pyramid and was now passing out muffins to the other customers in the pub, to every non-Equestrian’s amazement. She darted over to Harry and gave him a hug. “He’s my favourite colt! Well, except for Pound Cake, that is.”

Harry threw a hand over his eyes. “Oh, the horrors! Second place, again!” Pinkie giggled in response. Which wasn’t all that difficult an accomplishment, anyway.

The old wizard chuckled at the byplay, but kept his eyes on Twilight.

She glanced worriedly at Harry, then looked back at the Headmaster. “I think the rest is for him to tell. We have helped him as much as we could, and he’s made terrific progress. Suffice to say, when he received his letter we decided to give him the support his relatives had denied.” She glanced at Professor McGonagall. “He decided that he would only go to Hogwarts if his filly friends could go.” She looked back at Dumbledore, “Fortunately, you sent letters to the fillies as well, making that a moot point.”

The Headmaster exchanged looks with the professor. “I am pleased to hear that Harry has decided to join us, with his friends.” He sat a moment, his eyes twinkling madly. He looked over at his wizard friend.

Mr. Weasley spoke up, “Well, because you are new to the wizarding world, perhaps you would be interested in seeing a wizarding home? I would be delighted to show you The Burrow, and introduce you to my wife and children. It would also give the children,” he nodded at Harry and the girls, “a chance to meet up with some of their classmates. It wouldn’t hurt to start Hogwarts knowing some of the things that wizarding children know just because they grew up as wizards and witches.” He paused and looked at the Grangers. “Your daughter won’t be at a disadvantage regarding magic, as most wizarding families don’t let their children practice magic until they get their wands after they get their Hogwarts letter.”

Harry could see the Grangers relax a little bit as a tension they hadn’t acknowledged was relieved. He didn’t miss Sweetie’s smirk as she looked at him. Who needed a wand to practice magic when you had a horn?

Mrs. Granger looked at her husband. “It would be nice to see just what it is like to live in a world of magic.” Mr. Granger nodded. “Yes, what Professor McGonagall showed us on Sunday was interesting, but not very practical.” Hermione was nodding so fast Harry was worried her head would fall off.

“Then,” the Headmaster said, “If we have finished with our repast, perhaps we should adjourn to The Burrow?” Harry noticed that the Headmaster, unlike Mr. Weasley, hadn’t bothered to order or eat anything. So much for a luncheon with a friend!

The others, however, had devoured their lunches with alacrity.

A quick exchange of looks and murmurs, and some finger licking, and they were soon gathered in front of the fireplace as Twilight settled their bill with the bartender. The fireplace was tall enough for someone to stand with only a minor stoop and wide enough for two people to stand beside each other. The fire was quite low, barely any flames showing.

“This is the Floo-network,” Arthur explained. “It connects most wizarding homes and business locations. It’s operated and maintained by the Ministry and is perfectly safe.”

Twilight finished paying the bill and re-joined them. Arthur smiled at her and continued, “You take a generous pinch of Floo-powder from this pot here,” he pointed to a pot in a small alcove in the side of the fireplace brickwork, just below shoulder height for the adults. “You take a deep breath and throw the Floo-powder into the fireplace. Wait for the flames to turn green. When they do, step into the flames and announce where you want to go in a firm, clear voice.” He smiled. “It’s really simple and easy. Don’t let it fluster you.

“The one mistake people make is to throw in the powder, step into the flames, and then take a breath.” He shook his head. “You get a mouthful of ashes and start coughing before you can say the destination. At worst, you cough while speaking and end up going somewhere you didn’t intend.” He looked at them, scanning them all, to make sure they understood. “So, take a breath, throw the powder, wait for the green flames, then say where you want to go as you step in!”

He smiled again. “I’ll go first to show you how it’s done, and to tell my Molly that company is coming.” He turned and took what looked like a good spoonful of powder in his hand. He looked back at them. “We’re going to The Burrow, two words, The Burrow,” he repeated carefully.

He threw the powder into the flames. When they turned green he stepped into them while saying, “The Burrow!” He disappeared.


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