//------------------------------//
// 86 — I Meant to do That 
// Story: If Wishes were Ponies . . . . 
// by tkepner 
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It seemed fitting that the day after Halloween was Friday, and they had Potions’ class to suffer through. As if the troll the day before hadn’t been scary and exciting enough.

No matter how fast Harry moved, he couldn’t cast the bubble-head charm fast enough to escape an explosion from his two friends’ table. And all a shield spell did was stop solid matter, such as flying bits of metal and dirt, not gases. And he definitely wasn’t fast enough to do both, one after the other. As a result, he had taken to casting the bubble-head charm starting near the end of the brewing period. He figured, incorrectly, that he would be safe until then. Others in the class, even among the Slytherins, had come to the same erroneous conclusion. 

The only flaw that they saw was in the timing. 

Unlike Professor Snape, none of them were magically strong enough for the bubble-head spell to last the entire class. In fact, most of them could barely get it to last three to five minutes, depending on their magical fortitude. So they had to cast it multiple times to make it through to the end of class. And it was exhausting doing that. 

As a result, they waited until they thought it was prudent to start casting the spell. That still left them magically and physically tired by the time class ended, but at least they were safe from Sweetie Belle’s catastrophes. And they had the rest of the day to recover.

They just hoped a Sweetie Belle catastrophe didn’t happen in the short periods of time between when the spell expired and they cast a new one. They were confident the odds were low enough that they would be safe. Another erroneous conclusion.

Neville managed to melt his cauldron before the class was a quarter-over, proving a calamity could happen at almost any time. This convinced most of the class that that was the expected Friday disaster. So, they relaxed their guard. Another miscalculation. Naturally, Neville lost his potion in the cauldron accident, received a zero credit. He had to sit quietly at his table for the rest of the class after packing up the remainder of his equipment.

After an appropriate brow-beating by their professor which further tore down his self-confidence.

Sweetie Belle’s kind of chaos — Harry suspected that Discord was involved, somehow — was not predictable. And not dependent upon other events. Halfway through the class, Sweetie’s cauldron started bubbling. It was supposed to do that. 

It was only by chance that Harry glanced at her while she was stirring — and saw it was in the wrong direction. The green mist just beginning to shoot sideways from her cauldron was a dead giveaway something was about to go seriously pear-shaped. 

Harry’s gasp alerted the others that something they would regret was about to happen.

Almost everyone, at that point in time, had started to stir, was stirring, or had almost finished stirring their potion. That made for a slight delay as they dropped everything and grabbed for their wands. Frantic spell-shouting began and bubbles began to appear around students’ heads.

Professor Snape had had one all class. He was mean-spirited and evil, but he wasn’t stupid. Although why he continued to pair Neville and Sweetie was a mystery. Was he hoping they would vanish or blow themselves up?

The ones with wand holsters — Harry, the fillies, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione — had an advantage in that respect. Their wands appeared in their hands almost immediately. They were also much closer to source of the disaster, which negated that benefit.

But the damage had already spread to the Gryffindors by then. The gas was insidious in its action. It was silent, odourless, and quick, spreading around the room at an alarming rate. Fortunately for the Slytherins, they were far enough from Sweetie Belle that they all successfully escaped the incident, although none of them had moved from their stations. The two previous incidents had taught them that heading for the door was a useless exercise. And just as likely to put them in harm’s way as to save them. It was better to wait and see. After casting the bubble-head charm, of course. And a shield charm, if they could manage it.

Unfortunately, for the Gryffindors, they were not able to get the bubble-head charm up in time. If they had been a table farther away, then maybe. But, as it was, they were too late.

The thing was, nobody noticed, at first, that the potion had already done the damage. They all thought, incorrectly as it turned out, that they had reacted in time and were unaffected.

It was only when the Gryffindors and Slytherins began to relax, thinking they were safe, or that it had been a false alarm, that they began to notice the effects of the potion.

“What?” Sweetie Belle said in the middle of their reactions, still stirring the wrong way.

Harry, thinking he had managed to escape the mysterious potion’s effects, said, “You’re stirring the wrong way and that green smoke isn’t supposed to be there.” He frowned, it had been blue when he first looked, he was sure.

She stopped and watched as Professor Snape slowly sauntered to her table with a massive sneer, drawling so slow and low as to almost be a parody of his normal speech, “What did you do this time, you incompetent nincompoop?” His robes slowly swirled around him in slow motion.

That was a new and strange effect. Harry frowned as he watched.

The Potions’ Master stared into Sweetie’s cauldron for a very long time before he leisurely cast a stasis spell.

Harry was beginning to think something was very wrong. Professor Snape had always hurried to Sweetie Belle’s and Neville’s table when something went wrong, robes billowing menacingly. He had never sauntered. His wand spells were always quick and precise, never slow and drawn out. Even his normal rounds through the classroom were quick, though they appeared unhurried if you watched him. Right now they seemed to be positively glacial in action.

And he had never drawled anything in class as slowly, or in as low a tone, as he did right now. Not even when he was being cruel and sarcastic.

Harry looked around frowning. The other Gryffindors had their eyes on their potions, stirring the carefully, lest they attract the dungeon bat’s attention to themselves. Many of them were frowning. The Slytherins, however, seemed to be watching carefully, barely moving. Several of them had gone back to stirring in the hope the brief pause hadn’t ruined their attempt at today’s potion. They were moving slowly, unsure of what to expect. Harry expected their potions to be failures, based on how slow they were now stirring.

Harry looked back into his cauldron. He immediately noticed that while he was stirring with his left hand, the right occupied by his wand, the liquid in the cauldron was in danger of slopping out. He immediately stopped stirring. 

And watched the swirl of the liquid slowly, thickly, start dropping. Instead of being a nice red, as it had been a moment ago, it was now turning pink.

“Oh, pooh!” he heard from Hermione.

Looking, Harry saw her potion was also turning pink.

She put her hands on her hips, the stirring rod still in the potion. “I know I wasn’t stirring it too fast!” she exclaimed.

In only a moment, everyone was staring into their pink potions. At least the Gryffindors were.

Most of the Slytherins were still staring at the professor who was straightening from Sweetie Belle’s cauldron and berating her for her incompetence. Slowly.

And that was when they discovered that the strange green mist that had shot across the room had been an accelerant. As-in, it accelerated whoever had breathed it in. The Slytherins and the Professor weren’t moving slower, Harry and the others were moving faster.

After a few minutes confusion, and trying not to laugh at the professor’s comically slow movements, the Gryffindors were out the door and headed to the Hospital wing. The Slytherins were a slow second, and falling farther behind every moment.

Once they reached the hospital wing, Hermione realized it would take what seemed forever to explain what had happened. She pulled out a paper and quill and quickly wrote out what had happened. She met the Matron at the half-way point between the doors and her office, and handed her the paper. The little witch did not want to wait for the older witch to slowly walk over to them.

The Gryffindors grouped around the nurse as they waited for her to finish reading and tell them, slowly, what she wanted them to do next. Which she did as she chivvied them all to one side of the room.

Harry sat on the edge of a bed with the other Gryffindors beside or standing around him, and sighed dejectedly. Not only had they lost points, again, but Madam Pomfrey was taking forever to scan the Gryffindors. It wasn’t her fault, of course. It was their accelerated sense of time. The normally quick and efficient nurse was moving at a snail’s pace, as far as the Gryffindor’s were concerned.

And the Slytherins finally began to arrive.

Hermione, who had already half-memorized the diagnostic charms from their previous visits, watched Madam Pomfrey cast them five times in slow motion. 

“Fascinating,” Harry said, watching the magic move in slow motion.

“Can I see?” Hermione said.

He shared his glasses with her. 

“Oh! Wow!” she said, and looked at Harry speculatively. She turned back to watch the nurse’s movements. “Let’s see,” she said smiling, lifting up her wand and imitating the Matron’s movements and incantation.

In the time it took Madam Pomfrey to do one student, Hermione managed three.

Madam Pomfrey stopped, surprised, at the next student when he handed her the completed diagnostic papers. After doing the spell one more time and assuring herself the information was accurate, she followed along behind the little witch genius. “Five points to Gryffindor,” the nurse said, slowly, as she gathered up the papers.

After waiting another half-hour for her to flip through the papers quickly, she said, “You’re dismissed. You’re all in fine health, just running a bit faster. Mickle! If these students complain of being hungry in two hours, and the potion hasn’t worn off, give them food and pumpkin juice.”

Watching the house-elf nod eagerly as his big ears flapped in slow motion was hilarious, in Harry’s opinion. What wasn’t funny was arriving in the Great Hall for lunch and finding the tables empty. Normally, it would only have been a short wait, five or ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before other students appeared and the tables began to fill up. This time they had to wait nearly an excruciating twenty minutes that took what felt like an hour.

This was one of those cases where the second hand on his watch seemed to crawl around the dial — literally. He could count almost three one-thousands for every second!

Fortunately, they spent it discussing what they were going to do that afternoon. The potion should last more than an hour, easily — and so far Sweetie Belles potion accidents always lasted at least until dinner, five hours away. They should have almost a full day, maybe more. And there would be plenty of time to complete their assignments.

Scootaloo said, “Time to bring out the list for Crusadin’, Sweetie Belle!” And gave the four of them a big grin. After reminding the others what they were crusading for, the Gryffindors split into two groups, those who were really not interested in being Spider Wranglers — Ron and several girls — and those who wanted to see what mayhem might result from this. 

The resulting fires in the forest, alone, would have garnered them a long harangue by Professor McGonagall — which she did. That the fires were accompanied by a trail of devastation through the forest, the partial destruction of a storage room in the castle, and a “small” yard-tall acromantula frantically trying to burrow down through a dungeon floor — and acromantulas were not a burrowing species — and a second just-as-small acromantula trying to hide in the greenhouse — behind Professor Sprout — had involved Hagrid, and all four Heads of House. Each had lectured them at different times — for different reasons. 

The “Spider Wrangler Crusade” resulted in the Gryffindor cohort being confined to their dorm for the entire weekend, with a week of detentions, as well. Their meals were to be brought in by house-elves. Which, considering some of their punishments at home and the damage done this time, the fillies assured everyone that they had gotten off lightly. There was only one weekend of confinement, and detentions with Mr. Filch. And while Mr. Filch was unpleasant, the jobs he assigned were all typical clean-the-house type of chores that Harry and the Equestrians considered normal. They taught the others the tricks they used in making a game of the chores. The chores weren’t fun by any measure, but they did pass faster.

The biggest disappointment, according to the fillies, was that there were no cutie marks gained from that afternoon’s crusading.

On the other hand, the Headmaster had specifically allowed the Gryffindor Quidditch team members to practice with the rest of their team on Saturday. If the potion wore off by then.

The Acromantulas, meanwhile, had learned to run away, very fast, when they saw oddly-coloured and tiny horses accompanied by wizards and witches. Or even alone, they decided later, on reflection. That such small creatures could unintentionally cause so much devastation was beyond belief, even the wizards and witches were awed, the spiders saw.

The decision to move their nest a bit farther — several miles, really — into the forest to avoid any more incidents of that type was unanimous. And accomplished before nightfall. There was even some talk of disguising the nest with coloured silk instead of the normal white so it couldn’t be spotted from above — no one had every told them horses could fly! Or were so quick that even the spiders had problems tracking the little monsters. Yes, being farther away was a prudent move, they had decided.

The centaurs, drawn by the explosions, screams, and overall noise, had overheard the discussions and relayed what they had learned to the Headmaster. These new talking ponies were interesting, but the centaurs didn’t like the wizards and wanted to be left alone. They knew that if they didn’t inform the Headmaster of what was happening he would send wizards into the forest to determine what had changed. They were “proactively” acting to prevent that situation.

Much, much later, the muggle-born in the castle would remember this day and reflect that the ponies, despite being a prey species, were the dominant species on their home world for good reason.

The acceleration potion started to wear off in the middle of Professor McGonagall’s chastising lecture late that afternoon. It was shortly before dinner — their third meal for the day, and that included a nap in between — to the cohort’s immense relief. Getting chewed out in slow motion while you pretended to be sorry and listening was agonising. Especially because her expressions and gestures in slow motion were just so funny.

And they all knew it would only make things worse if they started laughing.

And the lecture had gone on and on and on. Harry imagined only the actual cruciatus curse could be more painful than maintaining, for what felt like hours, that look of sorrowful regret and apology. Stifling the urge to fidget was a major battle. Before the potion had worn off he had been worried his face might never recover. Once it did wear off, the lecture just flew by, to his immense relief. Which he hoped he managed to conceal.

Well, mostly wore off. The cohort still had people telling them not to hurry so much when they weren’t hurrying at all.

Mr. Filch was surprised at their industriousness after the first detention that night. He had certainly not expected them to make a competition in how clean their assignments were, nor in how many they could accomplish in a given amount of time. It gave him an uneasy feeling as it reminded him of a group of pranksters from just over a decade ago called the Marauders.

Which got Harry’s attention when Filch mumbled it aloud. Harry had heard the twins mention that name, too.

And yet another letter was sent to Twilight, and the other students’ parents, by Professor McGonagall.

Hermione was happy to use the time they were restricted to their dorm to “catch up” on her reading. Exploring and crusading had eaten into her reading time the last few weeks. Well, that is, her new schedule for reading time. Book-walking just made it so much faster . . . . 

The others used the portraits to sneak around the castle. Several of the portraits were delighted to help conceal them, and even joined them.

It also resulted in three new rules posted in the Gryffindor Common Room that evening after dinner. 





7.   
..c) Animagi student are not allowed to use that form’s cuteness to convince staff members to do things for them or excuse them from activities, assignments, or punishments.
.....i) Animagi are not allowed to enlist other animagi in this subversion of authority.
8. Students are not allowed to play with dangerous beasts inside the school corridors,
..a)  Or on the staircases,
..b)  Or in the classrooms, unless supervised by a qualified staff member.
.....i) For the purposes of this rule, Hagrid is NOT a qualified staff member.
..c)  Or in the dorms,
..d)  Or the broom-closets, even if they are expanded,
..e)  Or student trunks, even if they are expanded,
..f)  Or the Hogwarts’ front, side, or rear grounds,
..g)  Or the lake (except Gerald, the Squid).
9. Students are not allowed to try to catch, or actually catch, the spiders in the Forbidden Forest in hopes of getting a Cutie Mark in Spider Wrangling. Or producing their own Acromantula silk. Or any other reason.






One unforeseen consequence of their extra-extra-long Friday was that all their required homework had been completed early. Thus, out of boredom during Friday evening, the cohort got together and started working ahead on all their classes.

۸-~-۸


Castor walked into his house and called, “I’m home!” 

Silence greeted him, except for a thumping from the kitchen.

Puzzled he walked to the kitchen. He usually found his wife fixing dinner at this time of the day. She was there, he was relieved to see, just not saying anything. She looked up, glared at him, and returned her attention to the counter.

He sighed softly, walked up behind her, and put his arms around her waist.

“What’s the matter?”

Silence, again. The thumping became a bit more aggressive. The mashed potatoes were certainly getting mashed. 

He kissed the back of her neck, and she stopped for a moment, but then resumed mashing the potatoes and scrapping them into a bowl.

He sighed and stepped back.

She continued to ignore him, except for occasional glares to tell him this was all his fault.

He looked around, searching for a possible explanation. It was when he glanced at the dinner table that he had a clue. The morning newspaper was on his placemat. He didn’t need any further information.

“Sorry, honey, but I did try to tell you I was dealing with aliens. It’s not my fault you didn’t believe me.” 

The silence got deeper and more profound. Oops. That was the wrong thing to say.

He frowned, then smiled. A quick trip back to his coat and he returned with a set of gold embossed, pound-sized papers.

He walked up behind her and said, waving the papers beside her, “I have V.I.P. tickets to the ball next week . . . .”

She froze again, her attention entirely on the tickets that clearly stated they were for a ball at the new Equestrian Embassy. There were three of them.

She gasped as she stared at the tickets.

They occasionally went to department balls and dances, or even just a night out.

But this!

It would be the most important social event of the year. Something she had only dreamed about attending. And she would be there! 


۸-~-۸


Castor, freshly showered, was almost late for the meeting that evening at Number Ten with Sir Walker and Sir McColl. He arrived barely before the Prime Minister, and the Home and Foreign Secretaries did, for their weekly summary of Equestrian activity and their responses.

Despite Twilight’s warning, there hadn’t been any sightings of the changeling, anywhere. Close checking of the surveillance videos on The Leaky Cauldron had not shown anything unusual. Unless the creature had mimicked one of the wizards or witches off camera.

In any case, the creature had gone to ground and all they could do was wait.

The princess had, as promised, followed through with the runes and gems. Number Ten and the most sensitive government locations were now secured from infiltration. The process was proceeding at a steady pace at the secondary locations, his boss had assured him. With any luck, before the month was out, all the important government locations would be covered.

They hoped. It had been decided that until the creature was spotted, they would stockpile the remainder of the small metal plates with the runes. That way they could target the plates to where they were needed the most at the first signs of trouble. It wouldn’t do to put them at all the armouries and then discover the creature at a naval yard and not have anything available to protect the area. Or vice versa.

Finally, the missing meeting members showed up. After the preliminaries were completed, Castor stood. “Things are moving along reasonably with the Equestrians. Twilight is still apologetic about the changeling and tells me that as far as she can tell the creature hasn’t done anything in . . . either world. I am milking that for all its worth for us.

“She did warn the Chief of the Wizengamot the same day she did us, but he hasn’t mentioned seeing or hearing anything. And he did promise to tell her the moment they detected the creature in any of their dominions.”

He sighed. “She did give him the same runes and technology to detect the creature, and does know they installed it in the castle. How much further they went is unknown.”

Sir Walker interrupted. “We’ve managed to get the revealing plates installed on the buildings beside The Leaky Cauldron. We’re hoping that they will force a reaction if the creature gets too close,” he explained to the Prime Minister. “We’re planning to get one of our agents to install them around the door late at night. We might be able to catch the creature if it enters or exits the building.” He shook his head.

Then he smiled, “We’re making good progress with finding those with talents in using this new energy,” which they all knew meant magic. “We’ve managed to uncover fifty in the military and had them reassigned as ‘Special Technology’ experts. We’re assigning them officer ranks. And we’ve only covered half the active services.” 

His smile turned wry. “Their commanders all objected to losing what they felt were excellent men and women. We’re beginning to build a typical profile for those talented ones — the biggest lead is a lack of proof of secondary education. Most are quite eager to help us.

“Interviews with them have disclosed that they are all graduates of Hogwarts. They could not find magical employment because they were not half-bloods or pure-bloods. As a result, they returned to our more mundane world rather than starve.

“We’ve also discovered about a hundred that only have a small talent, such as Castor, here. They are also in the ‘Special Technology’ corp., but we’re using enlisted ranks. They haven’t enough talent to really do anything with the energy, but they can detect the advanced technological items and places without difficulty. They are the ones manning the cameras and helping us keep watch on the wizards.”

The group digressed and spent nearly half-an-hour discussing how to integrate the “Special Technology” individuals into their plans.

Castor continued, “I’ve seen the new dome enclosing the Equestrian side of the portal. It appears quite air-tight, with a large revolving airlock between the outside area and the portal.” He shook his head wryly.

“The new building’s walls are crystal clear, using bricks almost thirty centimetres thick.” He took some pictures out of his folder and handed them around. “As you can see, it leaves everything around the tree in full view at all times.” He sighed, “I don’t see how anything could sneak through that kind of coverage. Moreover, they have several guards watching at all times.

“You’ve already seen pictures of the dome they built over the tree on our side of the portal, and its walls are equally thick. I’m not positive, but Twilight said even a Dragon couldn’t break through those walls. I get the impression that a jet could crash into them and leave the walls unscratched.”

The others raised their eyebrows, then nodded.

“Between the two sets of walls, I don’t think we need to worry about any more creatures sneaking through.” He paused, then continued. “I relayed our concerns about cross-contamination and Twilight said, a few days after I mentioned it, that she had installed technology that sterilizes the materials brought through the portal.” He looked up and smiled. “No Andromeda Strain problems to worry about. On either side.”

Castor pointedly looked at the folder in front of the Prime Minister. “There is a sheet of runes in your folders. Twilight thinks we might like to install them in our hospitals and ambulances to fight infections and such. She’s included some for placement on tools and equipment, as well as some that can be sewn into hospital uniforms.”

He grinned at them. “I thought we could make them the circle on the official seal of the government lab responsible for certifying clothing that passed fire-retardant and germ-resistant tests. And make that required to be a patch sewed on all hospital clothing or their labels.”


۸-_-۸