If Wishes were Ponies . . . .

by tkepner


82 — Can You See Me?

The goblin led Elly down stairs and through tunnels until she was sure they had left the magical confines of Diagon Alley and were under the “muggle” portion of London.

The goblin finally stopped before a large door with intricate carvings. He knocked, then opened the door and strode inside. He deposited the bag and note on the desk and promptly left. No words were exchanged.

The camouflaged changeling noticed the four guards, with their spears, swords, and knives, stationed in the four corners of the room as she entered it.

The low ceiling would hamper flight, but then she was smaller than them in her ling form, which should give her an advantage considering how high the ceiling was, at least a yard above her head. She should be able to handle the five, but it would be mostly due to her surprise attacks and shapes. Her wings would give her a distinct advantage.

She ignored the chair in front of the desk and remained standing. If she sat, she would be blind to anything behind her, and it would severely limit her choices should things . . . not go well.

She did not have much information on the goblins outside of their interactions with wizards and witches she had seen outside the building. And goblins in Equestria were almost impossible to find, anyway. They much preferred their own company and kept themselves far from any of the other races. So much so, that many races considered them a figment of legend.

Lings knew the truth. But was any of it relevant to here?

The goblin at the desk barely glanced at her. He casually spilled the gems on his desk. He quickly separated the three magic-bearing gems with his long fingers and studied them carefully. The remainder he barely looked at, taking only a moment to examine each.

While he was doing that, another goblin knocked and opened the door. She turned slightly and stepped to the side, putting the chair between her and the new goblin. The goblin at the door merely stood there for a moment, and stared at her through a crystal on a staff before he just as quickly left.

Knifethrower leaned back in his chair to stare under his bushy eyebrows at her. “I will give you twenty-seven thousand for these three, each.” he gestured at the three magic-gems, “and ten thousand for the others.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “No haggling. That’s our top price.”

While the goblin radiated disdain for her, there were no traces of dishonesty in him — well, none that mattered in this transaction.

She shrugged. “That seems fair,” she said.

He stared at her another moment suspiciously — which seemed their default attitude in business — then opened a drawer and tossed a leather wallet on the table. At her puzzled look he sighed dramatically. He explained how a wallet worked and that she didn’t have to carry all the gold with her. And that the credit card in it was usable with muggle merchants, all for a small fee.

While he was explaining, there was thump from his desk. Stopping momentarily, he looked in a drawer, and read something off the paper he removed, He grunted, then dropped the paper back into the drawer, and continued his explanation in bored tones.

She didn’t intend to return to the muggle side any time soon, but the option to do so without losing access to her money would give her an advantage she hadn’t had before.

“Or do you want an acromantula silk wallet,” he finished, sneering slightly.

Again, she shrugged. “Is that more expensive?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “That one will do,” she said nodding at the wallet on his desk.

He paused a moment, frowned at her, then asked, “Are you a muggle?”

She smiled slightly, then said, “I have not yet purchased a wand.”

Again he stared at her. Then he slowly nodded. With eyes narrowed, he asked, “Are you an Equestrian?”

She concealed her start as best she could. However, by the glee she perceived, the goblin had detected it.

She took a deep breath to centre herself and prepared, mentally, for the fight that was sure to ensue. “Yes.” Her heart began to thud in her chest. She dared not show fear, or anything other than confidence. The legends said that to do otherwise could lead to conflict.

He studied her carefully, taking note of her posture, which she hoped he hadn’t noticed was a bit different from previously. He nodded. “We do not care what happens outside of Gringotts.” Then he sneered, “We are not slaves to the Ministry as are many wizards.”

He continued a moment later, grumpily, “As long as you obey our laws inside the bank, you will be allowed to visit. Your money is safe with us, regardless. The only activities your vault will incur are normal fees, except for any fines that might be leveed for infractions against Gringotts. Payment demands from anyone are ignored unless you authorize them.”

She relaxed a bit and tilted her head, “Will you tell anyone I have been here?”

“We tell the ministry only who has an account here, and where they say they are from. We do publish a record of the top ten Vault holders.” He grinned toothily, “Or rather, those that are active.” He paused, then smirked. “You are not a Top Ten depositor. For a small fee we can ensure that no one knows that you are an Equestrian or that you have a vault here.”

He leaned back and considered her for a moment. “If you were to give us information about this Equestria, we could forgo that fee,” he said in a sly tone. “For sufficient information, we could even forgo the normal vault fees for a period of time.”

He leaned forward. “The other Equestrians have been here only once, and information is difficult to come by. However, we know they are animagi and have other forms they can switch to, ponies, it would seem. You could start with showing us yours.”

She considered very carefully what her options were and how she might use them to her advantage. Her instructors had mentioned that information could have a bit value to ponies — limited by its accuracy, amount, and timeliness. That really wasn’t a ling’s concern — only collecting for the hive had any real value. But sometimes their targets desired to know things, about other ponies, which could lead to love collecting from the one they were with.

While it was tempting to give the information about the ponies as revenge, she really didn’t know the value of what she could tell the goblins. Or if it would come back to her later, to her distress. In most cases, ling’s were never around later when the accuracy or timeliness of the information they supplied became known.

A smart infiltrator did not give away the hive’s secrets.

But this wasn’t about the hive, it was about the ponies.

But it was about her home world.

Which she could not return to, considering who controlled the portal.

But how would it harm her if she refused to help them?

Could she take the chance it wouldn’t?

However, unless it threatened the hive, the here and now was more important than maybes and what-ifs.

And yielding information might win her alliance and support from a powerful goblins. Or, at least, a neutral stance regarding the ponies.

“The ones you have met are my enemies,” she said carefully. “How do I know you won’t sell me to them to recoup your payments to me and take my vault?”

Knifethrower leaned back and scowled at her. “Gringotts’ treaty with the wizards forbids such actions. The treaty does not allow even the Ministry to get information from us not provided for in the treaty.”

“Which is?” she asked.

“We are only obligated to tell them an account exists for a specific account holder, not how much is in it,” he started reluctantly. “We are not permitted to transfer money without the account holder’s permission, nor provide access to anyone other than the holder of the account’s key, or whomever the account holder authorizes. We cannot release information about one account holder to another. The items in a vault can only be released to the account holder or a designated being. The vaults are sacrosanct — we touch nothing in them unless collecting a fee, payment, or fine.”

“Would I be violating any rules by disclosing what I know of another account holder?”

He grinned, showing many sharp teeth. “As long as it is not any details of the holder’s account, no, you are not violating any rules. Neither are we in asking about or paying for any additional details about our clients. And we are, after all, not inquiring about anything in a vault.”

“What is forbidden to put in a vault?”

“Anything that would put Gringotts at risk, such as explosive potions or artefacts, or items that would allow unauthorized access to Gringotts or any vaults.”

“And the fine?”

“Confiscation of the item and a thousand galleons, minimum. More according to the item’s danger. The amount is set by a committee of goblins and Ministry officials on each incident.”

She stared at him for several moments, then, in a flash of green fire, transformed into a gold-coloured unicorn mare with a two-tone blue mane and tail and green eyes. Her cutie mark was a five-pointed star with smoke coming from it. She stood so that the goblin had a clear look at her cutie mark.

She had seen a unicorn like that in Canterlot.

“An agreement on what you will give for information is needed,” she said, sitting down on the chair once she returned to human form. “And that states the information will not be used to attack myself, the ponies, or anyone else I might mention. The only exception is if they physically attack Gringotts or the goblins in general — except in self-defence of themselves or others.”

It was a bit more complicated than that, but she was satisfied with the result. She didn’t know if they would honour such an agreement in full, but the wizards appeared to trust the goblins with their business. And she could detect no evidence of treachery or deceit in his emotions. Nor in those in guarding the room. All she felt from them was satisfaction in an agreement.

For five thousand galleons, and a number of free services for seven years, she told them of the present Equestrian political situation, as well as its population and size. She included information for the last decade, and more general information about the last thousand years. And the neighbouring countries and makeup of the populations, and their general histories, too. She mentioned Equestria’s rulers without saying exactly what they were capable of doing, just that both were over two thousand years old; quite skilled as fighters, diplomats, and rulers; and very powerful magically.

The longer she talked the more relaxed the goblins became.

It took several hours. They offered drinks. She took water.

She did not tell them of the conflict between the lings and the ponies in Canterlot. Nor that the ponies were treating extensively with the “muggles.” In any case, their questions were centred on the Equestrians’ activities in their native world, not this one.

The goblins were especially interested to learn that magic was openly practiced in all of Equestria, that there were no restrictions, and that there were goblins there, although reclusive in the extreme.

Elly did take advantage of their offer to mask her account as a revival of an old account that they knew was unimportant to the wizards and witches of England. The last known recipient of the name, a half-blood, had died in 1895.

Her new name was Elly De Rippe and cost her only a few drops of her disguised blood on several different papers. Her new-to-her old Vault was surprisingly full of galleons. Except for the “extra” payments, the rest came from her gems and gold coins, the goblins assured her. There was furniture, and books in a bookcase, from the previous owners. There was no property, though. It had been disposed of for tax payments to the Ministry many years ago.

Knifethrower concluded their business, with an offer. “If you wish to share any more information, our doors are open to you.” From his suspicious feelings, she knew he suspected her of not telling them everything she knew, he just didn’t know if it was valuable to them. His disappointment at her detected escape through the portal was clear. They both knew that detection meant an upgrade of its defences.

Most of the Alley was quiet when she left Gringotts and she easily made her way to The Leaky Cauldron. It cost a galleon for a room for the night, which included breakfast the witch behind the bar assured her.

۸-_-۸

She passed most of the morning waiting for the shops to open by sitting in a corner and observing the wizards in the tavern. She slowly consumed two cups of “tea.” A strange brew, she thought, and a bit bitter. She had accepted the breakfast and ate it. She would dispose of what she didn’t need, later, as she had been taught.

The first time a wizard came through the floo, shortly after she sat down, surprised her. She realized she should have expected that from the lectures she had overheard. Plus, the wizards and witches appeared to be a close knit group. The barman seemed to know everyone who came through as he greeted most of them by name. Although, if he was the first line of defence for Diagon Alley, it would make sense for him to know all the regular attendees to the Alley. She wondered if he used magic to do so.

A group of four rather clumsy wizards and witches, not that she was all that graceful, came through the floo at about the time she decided to visit the wand making wizard. Fortunately, she, at least, had had several weeks experience in the hive practicing as a minotaur while a working for the rank of cadet infiltrator. And had spent the last two weeks carefully studying how humans moved.

She followed them as they went to the enclosed courtyard. The lead wizard used his wand to open the wall, which was just as impressive a piece of magic this time as it had been last night. She could use such a wall to hide her hive in the future.

The wizards nodded to her, acknowledging her presence. “Extraordinary isn’t it?” the lead wizard asked her as they stepped into the Alley. His freely-flowing emotions were a mix of pride and excitement.

It was at that moment that she realized the group of four were actually ponies.

The outflow of emotions from the witch was exactly what she would expect from a pony who was seeing this for the first time — wonder, excitement, fear of the unknown — all in flavours she distinctly found familiar. And very unlike the flavours she sensed from the humans around her. The wizards and witches tended to more suspicious and cautious. And bored with the routineness of their actions.

The other two wizards were clearly pony guards, as their attention was on the other wizards and witches in the alley, constantly scanning for trouble, and noticing everything not a threat as an after-thought. Just as the guard ponies did in Ponyville and around the portal while on duty.

Her training allowed her to remain calm, but she slowly drifted back as they made their way down the Alley towards the shop she wanted as well — Ollivanders.

She sighed as they went into the shop first.

She was in a quandary.

If she ran off, she would probably escape their notice.

But she wanted to know what the ponies were doing here and this was an excellent opportunity. And, at the same time, she needed to watch them and see how the humans reacted to them.

If she tried to discretely spy on them from outside, however, the guards would notice her.

She sighed again, and followed them inside. As her instructor had said, “If you act as if you belong there, the ponies will never see anything out of the ordinary.”

The proprietor was already greeting his four customers. “Good morning,” he said a soft voice. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. Which was odd considering the large windows that fronted the shop and door. “It is good to see you again, Mr. Marks. Is your wand still serving you well? Alder wood with a unicorn hair core, I recall. Your own, too.” He raised an eyebrow inquiringly. As Mr. Mark nodded, the old man turned to the rest. “I am Mr. Ollivander.”

That was interesting. He had somehow divined, or he had been told, that they were ponies. She had thought they were trying to keep it quiet. Maybe it was that they were just not proclaiming they were from another world.

The lead wizard took a long and wide box from his robes and handed it to the old man. “A few of our first attempts. I’d like your opinion on them.” He swept his hand to indicate the others, “And new wands for these three.”

Elly sat on the rickety chair to one side. “I also want a wand,” she said, “But I’m not in a hurry. I can wait while you help them.” She nodded at the four Equestrians.

Mr. Ollivander spent a moment staring at her before nodding. “If you have no objections?” he said to the others, inquiring with a tilt of his head.

They quickly declared they did not mind in the slightest.

The next hour was fascinating to Elly as she saw magic being performed through a wand and not a horn. And that selection process seemed to be almost random as Ollivander named wand woods and cores as he handed them over without any apparent methodology.

Knowing that the ponies were designing and building their own wands was another sign that Equestria was changing rapidly. And not to the lings’ benefit. In the future they would have to worry about magical defences from every pony, not just the unicorns. She couldn’t help but feel she was right in leaving the old world behind. At least, here, the lings would be on an equal magical hoof with the humans.

“Usable,” Mr. Ollivander said of the four wands. “How did you decide on the length of the hairs and wood?”

Mr. Marks looked at the witch, Bright Star, he had called her.

She shrugged, “It felt right,” she said.

Mr. Ollivander smiled. “An excellent answer.”

He looked closely at one wand, “I do not see any signs of cutting on the wood,” he continued. “So, I presume you have already discovered how to place a wand-core without disturbing the rest of the wand?” He looked up at Bright Star.

She nodded, and said, “The core follows the core-grain of the wand to prevent any instabilities created by crossing a grain. It is entirely contained in the wand’s core.”

He nodded approvingly.

After receiving advice on how to improve their wands, and things they needed to think about in wand making, the four ponies left. As they did, Elly realized she had be unconsciously absorbing love from them — Mr. Mark for his student and their work; the others for their new wands. It hadn’t been much, but it had made a difference to her reserves.

It really was very startling how much more freely love flowed from the ponies. And how relieved she was that they had left.

“Now then miss,” the wand maker said as the door closed, “I assume this is you first wand, correct?” He stared at her in a strange fashion, almost as if he could see something she couldn’t. Her magic, perhaps?

She nodded.

He studied her for a moment, then fetched a box and reverently held out its wand to her. Thirty minutes and many wands, later, he stopped and stared at her. “I wonder,” he said hesitantly.

He went into the back room and emerged several minutes later. “Hawthorne, an excellent wood for charms and concealment magic, with a very powerful alicorn hair from your home,” he said, holding the open box to her. She gave him a long look before she reached to pick it up. It seemed to leap into her hand.

Sparks flew across the room when she touched it.

He smiled broadly. “Yes, a perfect match.”

She glanced at the rather large pile of boxes at one end of the counter.

“A powerful wand. It will serve you well.” He stared at her, making her uncomfortable. “Yes,” he said, finally, “A powerful wand indeed.”

He took a quick breath and straightened, “Now, would you like a wrist holder, as well?” he indicated a counter to one side of the small shop.

Minutes later she left with a leather brace on one arm that was hidden from others’ sight by a spell. Not only did it easily contain her nine-inch wand, but it was comfortable, too. She wondered if the holster and wand would be usable when she transformed. And how holding a wand would affect her rather pedestrian ling magical casting.

She also left with the names of two tutors in magic, one for transfigurations and the other for spell casting. And the admonishment that she should make sure her tutors notified the Ministry.

The threat that the Ministry might otherwise take some kind of action against her was not stated in so many words, but she took the warning to heart.

She headed for the bookstore the old man had recommended, Flourish and Blotts. She hoped she’d be able to read them. She had a lot of reading to do. The goblin’s questions about Equestria had suggested areas she needed to investigate.

And she needed to find a place where she could surreptitiously feed herself. Staying in the Alley was not even sustaining her levels. Any serious magic use would deplete those too quickly for comfort. And take a long time to renew.

Time, she was worried, she might not have.

۸-_-۸

It was Friday, again, and the purple Gryffindor cohort was nervous as they approached the Potions classroom. Today’s potion was supposed to be a vitamin potion. What Sweetie Belle, or Neville, might do with that had them all nervous.

Surveying the room as they entered, they couldn’t help but notice the new seating arrangements. The normal-coloured tables and chairs where all occupied by the still purple Slytherins, except for the tables closest to the point of the purple triangle that divided the room. The purple chairs were, naturally, left for the Gryffindors.

Unhappy with the selections, but knowing it was useless to argue the matter, the Gryffindors settled in their new seats. They started setting up their equipment.

As usual, after sneering at them all, even the Slytherins, Professor Snape ordered, “Today’s potion instructions are on the board. Get started.”

Harry sighed and followed the orders. He couldn’t help but glance at Sweetie and Neville both before and after each step in the brewing process. As did most of the class. To say they were goosey was an understatement.

There were several odd noises or exclamations from Sweetie’s and Neville’s table area. Each unexpected noise resulted in a wave of spreading panic across the room as students frantically grabbed their wands and cast the bubble-head charm — just in case.

Professor Snape spent a good deal of time peering into the mistrusted two students’ cauldrons. That, of course, meant both students were extremely nervous in their brewing. Although his close attention to those two did mean the other Gryffindors managed most of the class without his presence behind them. For which they were grateful.

Unfortunately, grabbing hastily for your wand meant you had to stop what you were doing. That, in turn, meant the mixing results at some tables were decidedly off from what was expected at the end of class. Which seemed to arrive without any catastrophes, to everyone’s amazement.

Sweetie looked triumphant while Neville looked relieved.

Professor Snape looked suspicious.

Each student carefully decanted their potions into small bottles, some were powders or creams instead of the expected liquids. And the colours ranged across the rainbow.

As a result, most of the class received poor grades. However, Professor Snape seemed intrigued by the brilliant, day-glow yellow colour Sweetie Belle’s potion had instead of the dull purple it was supposed to be. He removed the stopper and waved his hand over it gently, wafting any smell it might have in his direction. There was a distinct mint smell instead of the normal dirty-socks the book said the vitamin potion should have.

He looked at her with narrowed suspicious eyes. Sweetie shifted uncomfortably, then whispered, guiltily, “I thought a mint leaf might help . . . .”

Snape sighed, replacing the stopper, and carefully set the bottle aside. “Troll,” he sneered at her.

“But she didn’t blow anything up!” protested Scootaloo.

He leaned back and frowned at her, then said, “Troll. And two points off for questioning my judgement.”

Scootaloo gave Sweetie a shrug as if to say, “Well, I tried,” as they hurried out of the room.

۸-~