The Ravenclaws and Slytherins leaving their Charms class were puzzled that the entire Gryffindor and Hufflepuff First-year cohorts were waiting. Not only were they there already, but most were sitting and had clearly been waiting for some time.
Draco, yet again flanked by his pals Crabbe and Goyle, gave Harry and the fillies a long look before sneering and stalking away.
After most of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws had left, Harry and the fillies went in, with Scootaloo trying to hang back and pretend she didn’t know what was going on. Hermione and Ginny managed to stay just far enough back that they could escape notice as they headed for chairs.
Professor Flitwick was a tiny little wizard who stood on his desk, with a staggered pile of books stacked beside it to form a convenient staircase.
Harry frowned, wondering why he hadn’t just made a regular staircase and platform instead of obviously making do with the materials at hand. He had been here several years and that should have been more than enough time to customize the arrangement to his satisfaction. Maybe those books were by authors he disliked?
From her expression, Hermione was more than a little offended to see that someone would defile books so far as to actually walk on them — and reduce them to the level of mere flooring. That it was a professor doing so merely increased the depth of disrespect displayed to those undeserving tomes. Harry shuddered to think how Twilight would react to such a desecration of holy objects.
The professor was surprised to see his next class start filing in almost before the previous one left. “Yes?” he said to the four students as they came up to his desk. “Can I help you?”
Apple Bloom pushed Scootaloo to the forefront. Scootaloo had on her innocent face, trying to give the impression she was just an innocent bystander in the latest Cutie Mark Crusader fiasco. She cleared her throat. “Um, Professor?”
He nodded encouragingly.
She took a breath, “We were just in History of Magic and Professor Binns left.”
“Left?” inquired the puzzled professor.
“Yeah. He, um, passed on?”
“Passed on?” The diminutive wizard’s arched his eyebrows incredulously.
Scootaloo shuffled her feet awkwardly. The others held still so as not to draw the attention of their teacher — a skill they had developed in the Everfree Forest when evading predators. “Yes. I think he said ‘School’s out completely! For me, that is,’ and then flew up into the back right-hand corner of the classroom and disappeared, laughing.” She waved her hand to indicate the direction and then swallowed. “And now there’s no one to teach History of Magic.”
“Oh dear,” he said quietly and stared at the filly intently. He sighed, then waved his wand and said, “expecto patronum.” An unfamiliar silvery animal flew out of his wand and stood on its hind legs looking up at him. “Go to the Headmaster. Professor Binns has gone and we need a History of Magic teacher as of right now.” The silvery beast nodded and ran off through the air and through the hall wall. All the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs watched in stunned surprise. Most had never even heard of that magic, much less seen it.
He turned to the four students and said, “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”
After their hesitant explanation, with a few comments thrown in by the other students, mostly Hermione and Ginny, Professor Flitwick introduced himself to the class. Unfortunately, the rest of the class was boring in that most of it was about wands, taking care of wands, and general magic theory. Their professor tried to make it interesting, but even so, the only spells they “learned” were the two basics, lumos and nox. Which Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the fillies had mastered very early last month.
There was a slight bit of excitement when Professor Flitwick saw both Harry and Sweetie Belle using their magic to take notes. They were listening intently, with one hand propping up their chins and the other on their desks anchoring their papers, as their quills quickly scribbled away.
“Oh my!” he said excitedly, “Who taught you that?”
Harry and Sweetie Belle exchanged puzzled looks. “Um, Twilight taught me last year, and Sweetie Belle picked it up from me, I guess.”
“And that was before you got your wands, right?”
They both nodded and said, “Yes, Professor Flitwick.”
“It was a little tricky at first,” Harry continued, “but the longer we did it the easier it became. Sweetie Belle learned it faster than I did because she helps her sister with her sewing, so she was used to moving needles and threads quickly with her magic.” He wrinkled his nose. “Now, I barely have to think about it. And the writing is soo much cleaner, which makes it easier to read later.”
That turned into a quick impromptu discussion of wandless magic and how it differed from wanded magic. And the benefits of being able to take notes while their hands were busy doing something else.
Neither of the two pointed out the obvious usefulness of casting magic while desperately holding with all four limbs onto the safety of a branch, or galloping at full speed from certain death at the teeth of hungry pursuers.
“Three points each, Mr. Potter, Miss Belle, for such an excellent display of fine control, and with wandless magic, no less!”
In all the excitement, no one noticed that the other two fillies were mouth-writing with their quills.
۸- ̫ -۸
Lunch started with an announcement. The Headmaster struck his goblet several times to make a gong-like noise to attract everyone’s attention. “As many of you have no doubt heard, Professor Binns is no longer with us.” He was looking directly at the Gryffindor First Years cohort as he said this.
There was a brief break as shouts of relief ran through the hall.
The Headmaster smiled. “Hm, yes. It appears that he had not realized he was dead and a ghost all this time. I believe it was Miss Aloo, in Gryffindor, that brought that to his attention.”
There were many interested looks directed her way.
“He has moved on to the next great adventure of his life after almost two hundred years teaching History of Magic. I am sure we will all miss him.” The Headmaster halted and peered over his glasses. “In the meantime, History of Magic classes are cancelled until a suitable replacement for the position can be found.”
“Here’s hoping the new one is still breathing!” shouted one of the twins as the Headmaster sat back down. “And knows more’n just Goblin Rebellions,” put in the other one.
The Hall broke into laughter for a few moments before moving on to their lunch.
۸- ̫ -۸
Transfiguration class was fun, at first. Harry saw the cat sitting on the desk at the front of the classroom, as they all filed in after lunch, and laughed.
The cat glared at him.
The fillies were equally amused. They sat themselves at the front of the class, as usual. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo sat on either side of Harry, while Apple Bloom sat behind him. The fillies had been changing positions in each class so far so that the each had a chance at watching Harry’s back. Hermione and Ron traded sitting beside whomever was behind Harry. Ginny usually took the seat on other side.
Harry, the fillies, and Hermione grinned at each other, and at Lily Moon. She was the only other muggle-born in the class to receive a visit from Professor McGonagall and see her animagus transformation.
“What’s so funny?” Ron asked. Ginny and Neville also looked on curiously.
Harry, after a quick glance at the still-glaring cat, grinned at him and said, “You’ll see, just wait until everyone is here.”
Watching the other students and their astonished reactions when the “cat” on the desk transformed into their Professor had those six snickering out loud.
From their brief meetings in July, Harry had assumed that she would be a strict teacher. Her leading statement that transfiguration was complex and dangerous, and that anyone messing around would be banned, proved that, and was taken to heart by the herd.
They were all very impressed when she changed her desk into a pig and back again, although the Equestrians couldn’t help but think of Discord’s abilities. They couldn’t wait to get started, but the complicated notes they had to take demonstrated that that wasn’t likely to happen soon.
Harry and Sweetie’s wandless penmanship earned them a raised eyebrow and little else. Harry was tempted to change into his unicorn form, but decided that maybe that might be considered showing off.
Three-quarters of the way through the class, Professor McGonagall gave them each a match and told them to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, Harry and Hermione had managed to turn their matches all silver and pointy, and earned them a point each for Gryffindor. Sweetie, on the other hand, had a nice long sharp needle with a hole for the thread at the opposite end. She got two points.
Sweetie Belle, Harry knew, had a lot of practice with her sister helping her sew. That gave her a rather thorough knowledge of how a needle looked and felt in her magic. And Harry thought he had an advantage in consciously using magic for over a year, especially for his note-taking.
That made Hermione’s progress all the more impressive, which he made sure to tell her. She pinked a bit at his compliments.
Everyone had really been looking forward to their next class, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry was hoping for a few tips they might be able to use against the timber-wolves, cockatrices, manticores, and other pesky denizens of the Everfree that they had had a few run-ins with in the past. Unfortunately, the room was pretty bland when they entered, with nothing more frightening than the strong aroma of garlic. The other students who had already had his class had said at lunch that the garlic smell, which centred on Quirrell’s turban, was to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania. Apparently, he was afraid the vampire might track him down one of these days.
When they asked him in class about his turban, he had said it was a thank-you gift from an African prince for disposing of a bothersome zombie. Harry wasn’t sure he believed that story. Especially after Quirrell pinked and started talking about the weather when Seamus eagerly asked for more details.
On top of that, Quirrell’s lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. Between his stuttering, stops, and half-finished sentences, it was difficult to understand anything he said.
Later, the Weasley twins told the First Year’s that the turban was stuffed full of garlic so that Quirrell had vampire protection wherever he went. Harry . . . was not convinced.
Afterwards, all-in-all, it was a disappointing class, the Gryffindors agreed. Which was odd, they also agreed, given that their text, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, seemed to be a thorough and interesting introduction to the subject. They would have to take extra time in the evenings to study the text, they decided.
Peeves the Poltergeist was a major nuisance. He was in unapologetic prankster to the nth degree. Dropping wastebins on their heads, pulling rugs to make them trip, pelting them with chalk or other small items, sneaking up behind them, invisible, to grab whatever they were carrying — yes, he was one for pranks, he was.
The three fillies had quickly adopted a triangle strategy around Harry, much as they had when they had visited Diagon Alley. Each watched their surroundings closely — unlike Diagon Alley, here they expected an “attack.” Even if it was only from Peeves or an excitable fan of the Harry Potter books, it was still annoying and distasteful. Their Everfree escapades had taught them many survival techniques. With wands in hands, they were quick to use the shield spell Harry had taught them earlier that month after their experiences in the Alley. Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were quick to catch on and stuck close to the Equestrians. It didn’t take long before the other Gryffindor Firsties joined them to present a united front.
The other ghosts didn’t deliberately pull pranks, but it was still a nasty surprise when one of them glided out of the door you were about to open. Or worse, glided out of a wall or floor, through you, and then on to wherever they were going without so much as a by-your-leave! What made it especially irksome was that it was like being plunged into chilly water when one passed through you, leaving you with a chill to the very bones for several minutes. While it was shocking, after climbing a lot of stairs and feeling overheated, it was kind of nice, at least right now. In the middle of winter, though? The thought made Harry shudder. It would leave you freezing the rest of the day.
۸-_-۸
“Thank you,” Castor said to the small group of ten men after they had boarded the small bus with frosted windows, “for volunteering for this experimental procedure. Now that the physicals are complete and you’ve signed the non-disclosure agreement, I can tell you that you are not going to be fitted with new prostheses using classified experimental technology, as you were told previously.” He continued before they could begin to express their opinions at being lied to, “We will be attempting to regrow your lost fingers or hands.” That stopped any protests.
“These procedures are a joint effort between Her Majesty’s government and Royal Equestrian Technologies, and are considered, at the moment, to be Top Secret. Please do not discuss this program with anyone not involved in it until we give you clearance to do so. You may simply say it was an experimental procedure and you don’t know any more than that.
“We will be taking you to a new facility, in a secret location . . . .”
The path to the portal now had a permanent canopy, and the walkway was much wider. The tent had been replaced by a wooden building with a transparent but frosted roof.
With the help of the previous group of volunteers, and the use of some magic that Twilight called don’t-notice-it on the tree itself — a curtain hid the tree, they simply pushed through the curtain and arrived at the portal’s other side — these ten would never realize they had left Earth. The wooden spiralling deck had its own canopy, now. And with a repeat of the don’t-notice-it magic, targeted at the humans, they wouldn’t see the enormous walls surrounding the park-like setting on the other side.
The new building on the other side of the portal appeared, from the inside, to be a normal hospital facility, looking out into a small forested area. It would fool them for the few days it would take to regrow the fingers or hands that had been lost.
If everything worked as they hoped.
۸- ̬ -۸
Hermione suggested that they get an early start on their assignments after D. A. D. A. let out, but was out-voted. “Are you kidding?” demanded Dean. “It’s nice and sunny outside. And we haven’t even taken a look at the Forbidden Forest! We can do our assignments after dinner.” The fillies, Harry noted, perked up at the mention of the wizarding equivalent to the Everfree Forest. He sighed in resignation. It was only a matter of time . . . .
Thus, they spent the next two hours exploring the castle’s grounds.
Apple Bloom stood in front of the Forbidden Forest, hands on her hips, staring into it intently. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle flanked her. Harry and the other Gryffindors stood nervously behind them. A few of the other first year students had taken to following them rather than walking alone. When Harry looked back at the group behind him, he saw Percy headed their way, having seen the large group near the forest. Several other students had started to drift over, as well, expecting a little entertainment at watching Percy cow the Firsties.
“Don’t look that imposin’, does it?” Apple Bloom drawled.
“Eenope,” said Scootaloo, getting a frowning glance from Apple Bloom.
“It doesn’t look scary at all,” Sweetie Belle said. “Not like the Everfree, whatsoever.” She shivered.
“It’s supposed to have werewolves, trolls, and giant spiders in it. There are also centaurs and unicorns who don’t like wizards or witches,” said Ron, looking into the forest curiously. “At least, that’s what my brothers told me. And poisonous snakes.” He shuddered. “It’s got a lot of Dark creatures in it.”
“What’s a werewolf?” asked Sweetie Belle.
Ron stared at her. “It’s a monster. They look like normal wizards and witches, but once a month during the full moon, they turn into wild mindless monsters, wolves, that hunt and kill people for fun. If you get bit by one, you turn into one of them, too.” He shuddered, again.
“Just once a month? And only during the full moon?” Scootaloo sounded disappointed, which garnered her some questioning looks from the other students.
“No manticores?” asked Sweetie Belle.
Ron shook his head, “Not that I’ve heard.”
“How about cockatrices?”
“Uh, no?”
“Timber-wolves?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Hydras?” asked Scootaloo.
“Not that my brothers have mentioned,” he said.
“Chimeras?”
“No.”
“Tatzlwurms?”
“What?”
“Stellar beasts like Ursa Majors or Minors?” asked Sweetie Belle, somewhat disbelievingly.
Ron shook his head no.
“Are you sure this is the Forbidden Forest?”
Ron nodded.
Harry had the oddest desire to ask if there was any limburger in it.
“Can’t be all that dangerous, then,” Apple Bloom sneered, “Sounds more like the White Tail Woods than the Everfree.”
“Sounds down-right friendly, actually,” Sweetie Belle said. “I mean, the trees don’t even look slightly scary or anything.”
“Are you saying that that Everfree forest has those creatures in it?” asked Dean suspiciously.
Scootaloo snorted, “Yeah, we’ve run into all those monsters in the Everfree Forest. It’s just outside of Ponyville.”
The other students looked at the three girls incredulously.
Harry snickered, “RD still teases Twilight about getting turned to stone and needing Fluttershy to use The Stare to get the cockatrice to change her back.”
More than a few jaws dropped at hearing this. Many plainly did not believe it.
“Giant spiders, though,” Scootaloo said speculatively, staring into the forest with a half-smile. She turned to the other two fillies and grinned widely. They took the cue and the cry rang out over the lawn, “Cutie Mark Crusaders Giant Spider Wranglers!” and slapped their hands together in an awkward three-way high-five. It worked better when they were ponies slapping their hooves together.
Harry face-palmed.
The students around them exchanged looks, and clearly thought that the three foreigners were completely barmy.
Percy cleared his throat. The younger students quickly turned to face him, most not realizing a Prefect had followed them. There was a bit of a crowd now. “The Forbidden Forest is forbidden for students to enter without a Professor as an escort!” he said firmly. “If I hear any of you — any — have gone into it, it’ll be a week of detentions, if not a month, at least.” He stared at Harry and the Equestrians. “And I’ll be sure to inform your Princesses.” He crossed his arms and glared at them, frowning, and attempting to copy his mother’s formidable continence. It was a good effort, but couldn’t hold a candle to Applejack or Rarity when they were on the CMC warpath.
The three fillies gulped and looked innocent. It wasn’t nearly as effective while they were humans, Harry noticed. The four of them nodded slowly, indicating they understood his challenge. Harry’s nod was more in resignation, he knew he had almost zero chances of preventing any forest explorations. The best he could do was moderate the resulting damage.
He shook his head. Sap, he knew, would be involved — this was a forest, after all. Well, at least that third-floor corridor wouldn’t have any sap. He hoped. Cutie Mark Crusader Castle Explorers had been that rallying cry. He sighed. He wondered if the wizards had fire-and-flood insurance.
Several of the listening students exchanged glances at hearing the word “princesses” in connection with the three unusually named girls. One of whom had managed to get rid of a teacher that day — their very first day of classes, actually. Quite an achievement, when you thought about it. It had been accidental, but still — the school was now short a teacher. And the three foreign witches knew princesses, plural. As in, more than one.
Harry sighed as he watched. He could almost read the other students’ minds just from their expressions. There was going to be a lot of gossip and rumours about the fillies. And him. As if he didn’t already have enough problems with rumours from those stupid books.
Not even here a day, and already developing a reputation. He wondered how long it would take before the sight of Harry and the fillies, intent on an adventure, would send the other students scurrying for cover like the citizens of Ponyville did when they saw Scootaloo zooming down the street with the other three in the cart behind her.
“So,” said Sweetie Belle, in an obvious ploy to change the subject, “werewolves. They only change once a month?”
Percy nodded.
“Why would they want to change if they turn into mindless beasts?” asked Scootaloo.
“They don’t have a choice,” explained the Prefect. “As soon as the full-moon rises in the evening, they change and become mindless vicious beasts. It’s a terrible curse.”
The three fillies exchanged looks. Watching the moon here go through its different phases over the last month, and even disappearing completely for a night, had completely thrown their world-view through a loop. It was so unlike Princess Luna’s moon, which always appeared as a full moon. Or sometimes a half moon when she was feeling lazy. Or a quarter-moon when she feeling mischievous. But it was always up in some form every night.
“And they can’t do it any other time?”
Harry sighed, he could almost read Scootaloo’s mind, Only one night a month? Phhht! That was nothing to worry about. Now, nightly, that would be a problem for the Cutie Mark Crusaders.
“Werewolves,” she said softly, rolling the word around in her mouth, and giving a sly look at her three co-conspirators. Only Percy’s presence prevented an enthusiastic cry of Cutie Mark Crusaders Werewolf Hunters, Harry knew.
Percy shook his head, “No.”
“Do they hunt other animals?”
“Only if they’re hungry.”
“So, if we were ponies we would be safe?” asked Apple Bloom thoughtfully.
Neville was nodding his head in agreement, clearly following Apple Bloom’s thoughts as well as Harry was.
Percy frowned, “Perhaps, as long as they weren’t hungry,” he said. “You would at least have a better chance of running and escaping.” He glanced at Scootaloo, “Or flying and escaping.” He paused. “Not that you’ll be going into the Forest, will you.” he said emphatically.
They hastily shook their heads — they well-knew the lesson that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. And a month’s grounding was usually worth it — if they were caught. And they actually had a pretty good record at not getting caught. Naturally, their sisters and relatives didn’t know that little fact.
“Just asking, you know,” Sweetie Belle said, “Hypothetically speaking, that is. In case we saw one. They are supposed to be in this forest. So, you know, it could happen.”
Percy maintained his disapproving glare. “Right,” he said sarcastically.
“Wait a minute!” said Dean. “What do you mean ‘if you were ponies?’ Are you saying you can turn into ponies?” he asked incredulously.
The three fillies looked at their friends and smirked.
Harry sighed. He was doing that a lot lately.
Scootaloo snorted. A moment later, a small orange pegasus with a purple mane was flapping her wings above the group.
The gasp from the watchers echoed off the castle walls far behind them.
There was a brief burst of giggles and snorts from several of the Firsties.
A few seconds later, half the Gryffindor cohort had transformed into unicorns, pegasi, or just ponies. After a moment’s stunned silence, the girls watching all reacted the same: loud excited squeals followed by dashing forward and grabbing one of the ponies. “So cute!” was the loud cry, followed seconds later by “So fluffy!”
Harry, fortunately, he thought, managed to dodge his closest starry-eyed fan and took off running for the castle.
“Coward!” Ron yelled after him as he struggled in the arms of a big second-year Ravenclaw girl.
The boys watched in shocked silence.
Percy just sighed and kept watch on the forest.
Scootaloo’s hovering above them allowed her to launch herself higher and evade the two girls who had leapt up at her. She laughed as Ginny struggled to escape the clutches of a surprisingly strong, for her size, Hufflepuff first-year.
The boisterous group at the edge of the forest with the technicolour miniature pegasus flying overhead drew attention from all over the lawn.
Several upper-year girls broke into runs at seeing the small red-and-gold unicorn with a black mane and tail racing across the lawn towards the castle entrance.
The strategy of running for the castle had a major flaw. The closer he got, the more girls there were who saw him. Which quickly led to him getting trapped in a circle of admiring, cooing fans. “Aw, bollocks,” he said.
Just as they were closing in, he transformed back.
The girls stood around him, stunned.
“You’re a wizard!”
“You’re an animagus!”
“Merlin’s Sack!”
“Change back!”
“Yeah, change back!”
“Maybe later,” Harry shot back at them. “I gotta get my friends.” He turned and started back towards the group. The older witches followed him. The group was much larger by the time he arrived.
Percy had arranged a system. Each girl was allowed only five minutes to cuddle with a pony before she had to let someone else have a turn. He convinced Harry to participate by saying how unfair it was to his friends. Harry almost challenged him to transform as well, but decided that because Percy was the one enforcing rule upon the mob, it would be better not to. Who knew what it might devolve into if he lost control. And, Percy might like to keep that secret a bit longer.
He could hold that over the Prefect if he did catch them doing something that was . . . not exactly in the rules. Maybe. Well, it would be worth the shot.
Girls were going for their third or fourth turn an hour later when the Percy announced they had to head inside to wash up for dinner.
Naturally, the main topic in the dinner hall were the Gryffindor First Years’ animagus forms. Talking technicolour unicorns, pegasi, and “normal” ponies were unheard of in wizarding history. The Slytherins tried to make fun of them as multi-coloured “freaks.” However, that fell flat in the face of their obvious envy at the Gryffindor First Years having a skill so few adults ever mastered.
And what that meant for the Gryffindors’ magical power. That two of the hated blood-traitor Weasley children were animagi had major implications in the social strata of the “pure-blood” faction at the school.
Harry suspected that Professor McGonagall was going to get a lot of requests about her mentoring students to become animagi.
During dinner, Harry noticed, Professor McGonagall seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time glaring at the Headmaster, who seemed rather uncomfortable at her expression. Naturally, he couldn’t hear any of their conversation, but Professor Quirrell and the greasy-haired professor to one side seemed highly amused. And the other professors appeared a bit worried at the drama on display involving the normally staid Transfigurations Professor.
Abruptly, she half-turned to speak with someone behind her chair. After a grumpy glare and clearly a few furious words, Professor McGonagall came over to her First Years. They were puzzled at her approach. Harry didn’t think they had done anything to get her attention.
She stopped behind Neville. “Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Ollivander is here and would like a brief word with you. Follow me, please.”
Neville looked shocked, and almost tripped as he hurried to catch up with her.
Harry exchanged grins with the girls. They knew that the wand-maker wanted to meet and measure Neville for his new wand. And check to see what wand he currently was using. By this time next week, Neville would have a new wand.
۸- ̫ -۸