//------------------------------//
// 30 — The Red-headed League 
// Story: If Wishes were Ponies . . . . 
// by tkepner 
//------------------------------//

They all looked at each other, waiting to see who would be brave enough to go first. Not surprisingly, it was Dash. She inhaled sharply, took a bit of Floo-powder in her hand and tossed it into the flames. After they turned green, she stepped into them and said, “The Burrow.” Harry thought he saw her start to spin as she vanished.

“I will go last,” announced the Headmaster, “in case someone needs help.”

“And I have paperwork back at Hogwarts, so I’ll take my leave now,” said Professor McGonagall.

After that, one after another, they followed Dash’s lead. Twilight, Applejack, and Rarity insisted that Harry and the fillies go before them. And Apple Bloom and Scootaloo insisted on going before Harry. The Grangers would follow the Equestrians.

What Mr. Weasley had failed to mention was the spinning that took place as Harry flew through the Floo system. He could see various fireplaces flying by with glimpses of sitting rooms, kitchens, dens, and businesses, some with people in them and some without — basically, any room with a fireplace linked to the network, he decided. As each approached, he felt himself spinning to face it as if it might be his destination. Finally, one fireplace seemed to grow larger as he approached, until it, and the sitting room beyond with many standing people, was all he could see.

He shot out of the fireplace as if he had been catapulted — a sensation he remembered quite vividly from the Pony-Pitcher they had built.

“Woah!”

“Ah!”

“Look out!” he heard as he slid to a halt with a solid thud against a couch, knocking it and its occupants over backwards.

Harry blinked and tried to figure out what had happened and why he was upside down. Into the silence, he heard,

“’Cor! I’ve never seen anyone leave the Floo like that!”

“Oh my goodness! Are you all right?”

“Impressive!”

“Now that’s an entrance!”

“Do you . . .”

“. . . think we could learn . . .”

“. . . to do that?”

“Are you alright, Harry?” Apple Bloom said from beside him. She grabbed his arm and lifted him to his feet. Scootaloo took his other arm.

“I’m fine. Just . . . surprised,” he said. Rubbing the back of his head, Harry looked around. Pinkie Pie was holding a sign up that said “7”.

Two tall thin boys with bright red hair who looked exactly alike were holding signs that read “8”. They looked at the signs with puzzled expressions, before setting them down and starting to right the couch and help a younger girl, also with bright red hair, to her feet. They all had infectious grins. There was no doubt these were some of the Weasley children. Over by a door, beyond which he could see a kitchen, was a short, plump, kindly-looking woman with reddish hair. Standing beside her, shaking his head in disbelief, was Mr. Weasley.

In short order, Sweetie Belle, Applejack, and Rarity came stumbling out of the fireplace, barely keeping to their feet, but managing it. Twilight, though, followed Harry’s lead, and shot across the room like a human battering ram, once again knocking over the couch and its occupants. Except Twilight bounced up off the couch and hit the wall behind it, sliding to the floor.

Harry sighed. A quick look at Pinkie Pie revealed her holding up a sign that said “10”. Beside her were the twins and little sister, all also holding signs that said “10”. A smaller red-headed boy held a sign that said “9”. The red-heads all looked puzzled at exactly where the signs had come from and how they had ended up holding them.

A pained “Ow” came from Twilight as she regained her feet, rubbing her head and then her bare right shoulder.

The twins announced, “Blimey that’s even . . .” 

“. . . more impressive an entrance . . .” 

“. . . than that wizard’s!”

Their mother said, “George, Fred, behave!” 

“Yes, mum,” was the quick stereo response.

“But . . .”

“. . . still . . . ,” they mumbled, giving each other a sneaky smile.

Headmaster Dumbledore made an elegant entrance as he casually stepped from the fireplace and then flicked his wand to remove the copious amounts of ashes spread across the room. He surveyed the upended couch, Twilight getting to her feet and straightening her dress so it didn’t quite reveal as much as it was, and the signs being held up, with a soft smile and twinkling eyes. “Floo travel can be tricky for some people,” he said. “I trust everyone made it here, though, correct?” Various nods reassured him that they were not missing any members of their group.

Once the sitting-room was set to rights, the introductions began.

“. . . and this is Harry Potter . . . .”

There was an “eep!” from the red-headed girl, who quickly fled the room. Harry saw her peek back inside the sitting-room from the kitchen. That and everyone stared at his forehead. He just stared back at them. First in the pub this morning and now here. What was the fascination with an old scar? It was a nice scar, he thought, a really ace lightning shape. Kids who saw it when he was in primary had always been impressed, until Dudley had spread lies about him doing it to himself just to get attention. And his mane had kept it mostly hidden in Equestria.

It had been much more vivid last year. For some reason, after Tirek’s battle with Twilight in Ponyville, Harry’s scar had started to fade. He missed the old library. It had been cosy.

After the introductions, Mrs. Weasley said, “Well. Would anyone like tea?” The adults all readily agreed. “Wonderful!” she said. She looked at her older boys who were bored and already trying to decide what they wanted to do next. “Boys, why don’t you set up the tables in the garden lawn, the kitchen isn’t large enough for us all. Ron? Ginny? Why don’t you show Harry and his friends the garden and orchard?”

“Orchard?” Applejack and Apple Bloom said almost simultaneously, and looked towards the kitchen where the older boys were already headed.

Almost as soon as they left the house through the kitchen door, Fluttershy spotted a couple of chickens. With a gleeful “Oh!” that was almost loud enough to qualify as a whisper, she immediately bounded over to them.

Twilight took one look behind her at the house and grabbed Mr. Weasley. “Show me the spells you used!” she demanded. Mr. Weasley was only too happy to oblige as they started walking around the house, Twilight peppering him with questions so fast that he barely had time to answer one before she asked another.

Pinkie was the last out of the kitchen and was carrying a cake. She gave the twins a wide smile as she placed the cake on one of the two tables they had just set up.

Harry saw Molly gave Pinkie a puzzled look. She turned to Rarity and said, “Where did she get the cake?” Harry stifled a laugh.

Pinkie, now standing beside them, said, “Oh, I baked it!”

“When?” came the bewildered response.

“Just now.” Pinkie had a dazzling smile in place.

“Where?”

“Why, in your oven, of course, silly-billy!”

“But you couldn’t have, not even with magic could you bake a cake that fast!” Molly declared, hands on her hips.

“Oh, it wasn’t fast at all, about forty minutes. And then I frosted it, which took another five minutes.”

The witch stared at Pinkie, “But you weren’t in the kitchen that long!”

“I work fast,” she said, tilting her head slightly.

“But . . . .”

Rarity tapped the woman lightly on the arm. Molly looked at her, frowning. “Don’t,” said Rarity. “You’ll just get a headache and you still won’t understand.” She gave her a significant look, “It’s just Pinkie being Pinkie,” she said emphatically.

The twins were alternating staring at their mother and at Pinkie. “I don’t think anyone else,” one started.

“. . . has ever flummoxed mum . . .”

“. . . as thoroughly as us.”

Then, to change the subject, Rarity asked, “And the tea?”

The twins looked at each other. “Flying?”

“Quidditch?”

“An excellent suggestion . . .”

“. . . my dear brother.”

“To the broom shed!” They both pointed dramatically at a small shed built into the side of the house.

“Flying?” said Dash excitedly, almost leaping over to join them.

“Oh, yes,” said one.

“We try to get . . .”

“. . . as much flying practice . . .”

“. . . and Quidditch . . .”

“. . . as we can . . .”

“. . . in the summer.”

“Show me!” she said as she eagerly followed them.

Meanwhile, Applejack and Apple Bloom were inspecting the closest apple tree in the orchard. Harry, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and the two youngest red-heads trailed after them, half listening to the entertainment behind them.

Rarity sighed and looked at Mrs. Weasley. “Would you like help with the tea?”

“Oh, no, dear. I’ll have it out here in no time at all,” Molly said, after a bewildered look around at how quickly her guests had all disappeared. Pinkie was currently crawling under the roses looking for who knew what.

The Headmaster just stood by the house, taking in everything that was happening. He paid especially close attention to Pinkie when he believed she wasn’t looking at him.

Applejack studied the tree with a critical eye. “Not in the best of condition, is it, Apple Bloom?”

“Nuh, huh,”

Applejack placed her hands against the tree and looked up into the branches and at the tiny apples growing there. She closed her eyes.

“What’s she doing?” asked Ginny.

“Usin’ her magic to look inside,” came Apple Bloom’s reply.

Applejack kicked off her sandals, and dug her toes into the soil. “That’s better.”

That was when they heard, “waaaAAAAHHHHhooooo!” and Rainbow Dash shot by barely over their heads, riding a broom.

Harry and the fillies exchanged looks. Wizards and Witches could fly? On brooms? Applejack blinked and said to Ginny, “Humph. How about that . . . .” as the four Equestrian foals took off back to the house so fast Ginny later swore she could see red, orange, yellow, and white coloured trails behind them. Ron hurried after them. Hermione wasn’t as interested in flying, but still decided to follow the others. Applejack shrugged and walked over to the next tree. “Let’s see how you’re doing.”

Rarity sighed as she saw Rainbow Dash vanish among the treetops. She took the cup and saucer that the witch had floated over with her wand. Molly was staring off in the direction Dash had disappeared, as well. Rarity added the bit of sugar she liked and took a sip. She smiled appreciatively. “This is excellent tea, Molly Weasley.”

Dumbledore, who had taken a seat across from Rarity, nodded after taking a sip. “Wonderful, as always, Molly.” The Grangers murmured their approval, too.

Brought back to the garden, Molly said, “Thank you. I rather like this blend.”

Rarity looked around the garden area again, noticing the fillies and Harry closely following the instructions that the two tall twins were giving them at the shed’s door. She smiled, knowing that would keep them occupied for the rest of the afternoon.

Rarity turned her gaze back to the wizard and witch at the table with her, smiling. “So, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Professor Minerva McGonagall told us about this statute of secrecy? Why is it needed, precisely?”


۸- ̫ -۸


The twins, seeing the kids charging towards them had already taken two more brooms from the shed. “Sorry,” one said.

“We only have . . . ,” said the other.

“. . . two extra brooms.”

“They belong to . . .”

“. . . Charlie and Bill.”

“But they won’t mind . . .”

“. . . if we let you . . .”

“. . . borrow them today.” They handed the two brooms to Harry and Apple Bloom, who had managed to arrive first.

Scootaloo mumbled, “Aw, horsefeathers! How come he always loses the unimportant races at home?”

Hermione and Sweetie Belle crowded close to inspect the brooms with the others.

“Now then,” said one of the red-heads as Ron slid to a halt beside the shed and ducked inside. “Straddle the broom . . .”

“. . . like this.” concluded the other as he demonstrated.

“Hold the handle . . .”

“. . . like this . . . ,” they said together as one repositioned Harry’s hands on this broom while the other held his broom up for them to see his grip.

Bloom and Harry quickly adopted the same stance as the twins. “Now, push off . . .”

“. . . gently with your toes . . . .” The twin on the broom demonstrated, “. . . to go up.”

“Lean forward . . .”

“. . . to go forward.”

“Lean backwards . . .”

“. . . to slow down . . .”

“. . . or stop.”

“Push the broom down . . .”

“. . . to go down . . .”

“. . . and pull up . . .”

“. . . to go up.”

“And Bob’s your uncle!” they concluded in chorus.

“You can’t go too high . . .”

“. . . or the muggles might see you.”

“And stay over the orchard . . .”

“. . . but not too close to the edges . . .”

“. . . for the same reason.”

For several minutes the two newbies flew around the house, experimenting. Harry felt as if his face might break in two, it was so much fun and he was grinning so hard. He saw Ron give his broom to Sweetie Belle. Reluctantly, he landed back beside the watching Hermione and Scootaloo, followed by one of the twins. He handed his broom to Scootaloo. “You’re gonna love this Scoots.” Reverently she took it and stood astride it as the twins had shown her. The one who had followed Harry leaned over and nodded approvingly at her grip. “That’s the ticket!” he said. His brother landed a moment later.

Scootaloo hovered for a moment, moved slowly forward and turned around to face them, a giant grin on her face. She looked around, making the broom spin gently, twirling her in a circle. She took a deep breath as she lifted her nose, as if she were smelling the air. She stopped and exhaled, looked over at them and grinned even wider. She rolled her shoulders, yanked the broom almost vertical, and shot into the air straight up, leaving behind a trailing and faint “YAHOOOOOoo.”

Just before they lost sight of her, she arched over backwards and plummeted back down, laughing like a madwoman. She pulled out just feet above them to shoot off into the orchard while rotating around her broom.

After a moment’s stunned silence, the twins said, “That one’s . . .”

“. . . a natural . . .”

“. . . I’d say . . .”

“. . . wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry. “She’s been dying to fly for years.” Apple Bloom landed and held out her broom to Hermione.

“Oh?” said one.

“Do you live . . . ,” said the other.

“. . . among muggles?” finished the first one.

Harry and Apple Bloom glanced at each other. “It’s complicated,” said Harry. “We don’t have flying brooms, and there aren’t any muggles around.” He half-smiled shyly. “In fact, until I got my Hogwarts letter we didn’t even know there were muggles, wizards, or witches.”

The three red-heads stared at them. “No muggles?”

“No wizards?”

“No witches?”

“No magic?”

“What?”

“Oh, we have magic. Everypo . . . everyone has magic. It’s just that we never thought about using wands. Or brooms for flying,” Apple Bloom explained.

The three Weasleys stared at them. “Um, flying carpets . . .”

“. . . perhaps?”

“Flying carpets!?” Apple Bloom and Harry exchanged looks. “That sounds like fun!” said Apple Bloom. She grinned at Harry and said, in a low tone, “Cutie Mark Crusaders Flying Carpet Makers?”

Harry grinned back. “Perhaps another day.”

“But if you don’t have wands,” said Ron, “how do you do magic?”

Harry looked around uncertainly and shuffled his feet nervously. “We just do.”

The twins looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

Harry looked around, and then stepped over to the shed. “Like this.” He stepped back and as he did a hoe, rake, and shovel floated out beside him.

“‘Cor!”

“Blimey!”

“Brill!”

“What else can you do?” Ron eagerly asked.

“Teleport?” Harry looked unsure. “Illusions?”

“What’s telapart?”

Harry frowned. “Teleport.” He closed his eyes, then looked back into the shed. He frowned. “I’m not sure I can do that here, but here goes!”

He concentrated, then staggered as he nearly lost his balance on the shed’s uneven floor. When he stepped out the three red-heads went goggle-eyed.

“You can apparate?” Ron breathed. His brothers appeared equally astounded.

“Not well, yet.” Harry looked around the garden area and sighed. “At home, I can get about four or five. . . miles, tops. Never had to go farther, actually, so maybe I could do more.” He shrugged. “I don’t really know what my limit is.” He looked up as Twilight and Mr. Weasley came around the corner of the house, still discussing how the house used magic. “Twilight can go over several hundred miles. Princess Celestia can go anywhere in the world.”

Ron turned to Apple Bloom. “And you can do all that, too?”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “My magic is Earth magic. Anything to do with the Earth, Ah can work with it.”

The boys looked puzzled.

“Like this.” Apple Bloom walked over to a nearby bush that wasn’t doing as well as the ones to its sides.

“That’s dill planted there . . . , ” said one of the twins.

“. . . and that one is always a bit small,” finished the other.

Apple Bloom nodded and dropped to her knees. She put her hands in the dirt to either side of sickly plant. Nothing happened for a moment, then, to the red-heads’ amazement, the plant began to grow. Its stalks grew taller and thicker, and the buds suddenly burst open into brilliant yellow blooms.

She leaned back, then stood. “The soil thar’s a bit sandy, drains the water away too fast. Try a good helpin’ o’ manure before the winter and work it well into the ground. Don’t over water it.”

Harry grinned. “I bet Applejack’ll have a whole list of things you need to do for your orchard. And your crop this year will be fantastic!”

“wheeeeEEeeeeee!” Scootaloo zipped by them.

Sweetie Belle drifted over to them, not nearly as confident in her flying skills, but still sporting a huge grin. Hermione was following her at a much lower altitude and had a hesitant smile.

“And what’s her specialty?” asked one of the twins, watching Scootaloo disappear into the orchard again.

“She’s a pegasus. They handle the weather at home — move the clouds, make it rain, stuff like that.”

“A weather witch!” They exchanged looks.

“That’d be handy . . .”

“. . . at Hogwarts.”

“Just imagine . . .”

“. . . always perfect weather . . .”

“. . . for Quidditch!” The twins grinned widely at each other.

“What about you?” asked Ron, looking at Sweetie Belle.

“She can do magic like me,” Harry said. “She can’t teleport yet, but she’s been doing levitating since she was a fo . . . toddler.”

The Weasleys looked at Sweetie Belle with awe.


۸- ̫ -۸


For a long moment the elderly wizard looked at her. “You have never heard of the Statute of Secrecy?”

Rarity tilted her head, “No, dear. Everyone has magic. It would be silly to try to keep that a secret.”

“Interesting.” He sighed and took off his glasses. He pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping the lenses. “The International Confederation of Wizards proposed the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1689 and it became established law in 1692 — three hundred years ago.” He put his glasses back on and gave her a long look. “It was thought at the time that wizards and witches in every country in the world had been contacted and were a part of the Confederation.” He smiled ruefully, “Apparently not.” He cleared his throat.

“It was a response to the muggle witch-hunts going on long ago. As the witch-hunts grew ever fiercer, wizarding families began to live double lives, using charms of concealment to protect themselves and their families. Wizarding families were prone to losing younger family members, whose inability to control their own magic attracted Muggle witch-hunters. By the seventeenth century, any witch or wizard who chose to meet with Muggles became suspect of colluding with the muggles. Some even became outcasts in their own communities.”

“Witch hunts?”

“Yes. The muggles accused wizards and witches of treating them as inferiors, of using their magic to sicken livestock, ruin crops, steal, and commit other crimes against them. Basically, anything that went wrong for a muggle was blamed on a witch or a wizard, true or false was of no concern. It didn’t matter how trivial a matter it was; if someone dropped a bucket of water, it was because an evil witch made them do it, not that they were simply clumsy. They also accused witches and wizards of consorting with Satan, the demon of Christianity and opponent of the God they worshipped. Sometimes just the accusation, without proof, could get the priests to destroy a family.”

Rarity nodded several times, thinking. “And were they? Doing those things?”

Mrs. Weasley, Rarity noticed, looked guilty.

“Are they still doing those things?” she added, arching an eyebrow and leaning back in her chair.

“Unfortunately,” the Headmaster said, “there are always those who feel that they are superior to others and act upon those feelings without considering the repercussions of their actions.” He shook his head sadly.

“So, the muggles were justified, in part, in chasing after wizards and witches. And if the only wizards and witches they met did them evil, then it would be easy for them to assume that all witches and wizards were evil, would it not?”

“I suppose that is so,” said the Headmaster sagely.

Molly looked guilty, still, but then she brightened.

“We are trying to put a stop that. My Arthur is the director of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. It’s his job to hunt down items that were enchanted by wizards and witches that have fallen into the hands of muggles.” She frowned, “Although there are a few who do that on purpose. He told me last week that he had found a few vanishing keys.”

“Vanishing keys?”

“Oh, yes. A wizard will duplicate a muggle key and enchant the key to keep getting smaller until it vanishes. It’s very hard, though, to convict anyone because no Muggle will admit their key keeps shrinking — they’ll insist they just keep losing it. And then find it again when they don’t need it.” She shook her head ruefully. “Bless them, they’ll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it’s staring them in the face . . . .”

Rarity turned her attention to the Headmaster again. “You mentioned a god and demon? Can you tell me more?”

Dumbledore adopted a scholarly contemplative expression, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his hands’ fingers together over his stomach. “The major religion in England is Christianity. The believers worship an entity known as God. A key feature of this religion is that it has a demon known as Satan that tries to trick believers into betraying their god. They call this demon Satan, the King of Lies.”

Rarity nodded her understanding. “And where does this God live?”

The wizard, witch, and Grangers, exchanged looks.

“Well, according to the Bible, the book of the Jews and Christians, he lives in Heaven with his son.”

“Jews?”

“Christianity is an offshoot of the Jewish religion. They share the same holy book, with the same God and Satan. One thousand nine hundred and ninety-one years ago, the Christians say that God sent his son into the world to teach a new way for his followers to get into heaven, splitting off from the Jews.”

“Wait,” Rarity sat up straight, frowning. “Why aren’t the Jews Christians if their God told them to obey his son?”

“The Jews don’t believe that Christ is the son of God.”

Rarity sat back and stared at them in disbelief. “And their God hasn’t corrected them? Why does she allow this? That makes no sense! Unless this God enjoys conflict? How distasteful!” She shook her head, making an expression of mild disgust. “Is she a God of Chaos?”

Again the others exchanged puzzled looks.

Mr. Granger sat forward, looking at Rarity. “No one can ask God or Christ directly, they’re in Heaven. We only have what was written down two thousand years ago when Christ was preaching to the Jews.”

“And you can’t make an appointment to go to Heaven and ask?”

They all frowned. After a quick puzzled look at his wife, Mr. Granger continued, “Only after you die do you go to Heaven. And if you’ve failed to follow the teachings of Christ, you may go to Hell instead.”

Rarity was shaking her head. “No, this makes no sense. If you can’t talk to your god directly, how do you know she even exists? Much less that the stories about her are true.”

The Headmaster chuckled softly, “And there you have the crux of the matter between wizards and Christians. A Wizard wants to see evidence that there is a God — if there is, wouldn’t magic reveal him? — and the Christians say you must take it on faith.”

After a moment of watching Rarity still shaking her head in disbelief, he asked, eyes twinkling, “And what of yourself and your friends? What do you believe? Do you have a religion?”

She sighed and took another sip of her tea. “I suppose we don’t really have a religion. Oh,” she waved her hand dismissively, “some pray to Princess Celestia, and more lately, Princess Luna and Princess Cadenza.” She paused. “And, fortunately, Twilight hasn’t had enough attention yet for it to be an issue. But there’s no organized religion, no holy book of what Celestia has said. Unless you count history books. Celestia actually discourages pon . . . people worshiping her. She says it’s annoying and wastes her time. And leads to fights as po . . . people argue about what exactly she meant when she said something she considers trivial. Such as the time she said every . . . one should brush their teeth. There were fights about how toothbrushes should be made to properly show respect for Celestia.” She shook her head.

“And what Princess Luna says about worshipers isn’t language fit for mixed company! You start praying to her and you’ll be getting nightmares every night.”

That got the Grangers and the other two frowning again.

Slowly, considering his words carefully, Dumbledore asked, “Doesn’t Princess Celestia rule your homeland?”

“Oh, yes!” Rarity straightened. “She’s ruled for over two thousand years now, except for that period when Dis . . . the God of Chaos ruled.” She paused and wrinkled her nose. “Confidentially, I don’t like saying his name,” she said, “It might attract his attention.” She gave a delicate shudder, “You do not want him popping up in front of you!” She sighed. “Fluttershy claims he’s reformed, but I don’t know.” She stared at her cup for a moment before taking another sip. “However, no one is positive exactly how long he ruled.” She shook her head. “It was impossible to keep track, but that was at about one and a half thousand years ago.”

Then she said, “Princess Celestia has an open court every weekday in Canterlot. Anyone can petition to be heard. The wait list for non-governmental business is long, though, I’ve heard you have to make an appointment a year in advance, now. But if it’s a real emergency she’ll see you immediately.”

The others thought about that for a moment. “Who is the Queen?” asked Dumbledore.

“Queen?” Rarity tittered behind her hand. “We don’t have a Queen. Or a King. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are co-rulers. You can’t have two Kings or Queens, but you can have as many Princesses as you want.”

“Ah,” said the Headmaster, stroking his beard, “I suppose you can.”

“And we’ve had a thousand years of peace with her as our ruler, so we have no complaints!” She gave them a happy smile. “You know the old curse — well, it’s not really a curse, it’s not a spell of any kind, but still, some call it a curse — ‘May you live in interesting times’? Well the last thousand years have been positively boring!” 

Her smile slowly went away. She scowled delicately and murmured, “Though, the last two years have been a bit excitable . . . .”

The wizards looked at her questioningly, clearly wondering what had been happening in the last two years.


۸- ̰ -۸