//------------------------------// // 6. The Green Green Grass of Home // Story: Harry Potter and the Little Pony Problem // by Georg //------------------------------// Harry Potter and the Little Pony Problem The Green, Green Grass of Home - - ⚡ - - “Hey.” A small hoof nudged Harry Potter on the cheek several times with increasing force. It took him a moment to realize that the nudges meant Twilight Sparkle had not been able to send the magical ponies home, and a second moment to remember that Aunt Petunia would be along at any moment. He struggled to an upright position, put on his glasses, and fumbled for his trainers, which one of the ponies had apparently unlaced in the middle of the night and put right next to the bed. And cleaned. And put in new laces. Having ponies in his room was both terribly frustrating and… weird. They seemed a little like miniature four-legged house elves, and about as much trouble. At least when he managed to get his eyes open and look around, there did not seem to be quite as many ponies scurrying around the room as when he had gone to bed. And the clock showed he still had about ten or fifteen minutes before Aunt Petunia would barge into his room to wake him up, although the weekend had just started, and the schedule changed at her whim. As he yawned and laced his trainers, Harry became slowly aware of yet another pony perched on the headboard of the bed. This one was wearing golden armor with a fuzzy blue crest on his helmet, and standing at attention while holding a short spear much like a pencil crooked in one foreleg. The pony looked him straight in the eye, seemed to resist the urge to criticize Harry’s baggy t-shirt and trousers, then lifted one hoof to the side of his helmet. “Big Perch to all patrols. Clay Pot has begun his day. Status report on the facilities?” The pegasus seemed to listen for a few moments, then turned back to Harry. “Sir, the facilities are clear, the toilet paper has been refilled, and we have procured a new toothbrush to replace your defective one. Both Uncle and Aunt are still in bed, while Tubby is downstairs watching the magical entertainment box. You are cleared for your morning ablutions, provided you make haste. We have observed Aunt moving in a rapid fashion yesterday, and she may awaken at any time.” “That’s… fine,” said Harry, still trying to soak it all in. “And you are?” The tiny armored pony saluted. “Commander Hardhooves, Captain of the Canterlot Protective Unit, Guest Section. We are responsible for Twilight Sparkle’s security while she is in Canterlot, and that’s why I believe she…” The armored pony hesitated, which Harry could understand totally. After all, if he had some small portion of his magic pulled to an alien dimension and reconstituted as a tiny person where the natives were so different, he would have been more panicked than any of the tiny ponies had been so far. “She summoned a bit of your mystic bits here,” completed Harry, trying not to wince at what his Hogwarts teachers would think of his terminology, or how Hermione would roll her eyes. “So what are you guarding her against?” “Actually, we’re guarding you,” admitted Hardhooves with an embarrassed scratch at the back of his neck. “And coordinating the situation, since there are so many civilians involved. Plus, I think having us around makes her feel a little less nervous.” “She said every pony she summoned allowed her to learn more about the spell,” mused Harry before cold realization soaked in. “How many of you did she summon?” “Five,” said Hardhooves, which allowed Harry to begin relaxing until he continued, “Out of the day shift, of course. Then the five on night shift, two alternates, the support staff, and the gardeners.” “Gardeners?” asked Harry, terribly afraid of where the conversation was going. He glanced out the window and was held in astonishment while the tiny pegasus continued. “Princess Twilight said she couldn’t concentrate with you out in the yard, slaving away at the bushes instead of working on your backlogged homework. So she brought up a few of the castle gardeners to help the farmers from Ponyville she brought up earlier, and—” “Done,” declared a small brown pony who trotted in the bedroom door with Minuette the unicorn right behind him. “I must say, some of the bicycle parts had gotten bent somehow, but a little bit of ingenuity—” “And some magic,” added Minuette under her breath. “—we got it put together and ready for you, along with fixing the bent-up bicycle in the garage. Even added a few minor improvements,” completed the pony, arranging his hat at a jaunty angle. “It’s not my bicycle!” hissed Harry, trying not to lose his temper. “That’s Dudley’s bicycle! He’s already downstairs! His favorite morning television program is on! Did he see you?” The small brown pony drew himself up in indignation. “Of course not! Do you think I’m a common temporal mechanic?” Whatever Harry was about to splutter in response was cut off by Commander Hardhooves suddenly getting an intense expression and barking out, “Everypony take cover. Aunt is on the move, repeat, Aunt is on the move. Garden detachment, report.” Ponies went scurrying everywhere in Harry’s room, much like a nest of puffskeins that Harry had once seen Molly Weasley sweep up while dusting. In several seconds, the only pony that could still be seen was the tiny pony commander, still whispering into his helmet. “Garden detachment, respond! Aunt is coming! Get all civilians to sheltered positions before she sees you. Come in, garden detachment!” Harry looked out of the open window, his eyes widening with shock. There were dozens of colorful ponies scurrying about under the bushes of the front yard, doing all the gardening tasks that Harry would normally get stuck with on weekends. Thankfully, none of the neighbors seemed to be out and about yet, but he could hear Aunt Petunia’s footsteps on the hallway outside of his room, and in just a few moments, she would see just what he was— “Hide!” hissed Harry, stuffing his pillow over the tiny armored pony before leaping onto the window sill. It was a long way down, but he had fallen off his broomstick further, and by hanging onto the edge of the window with his fingers, he reduced the shock of landing from painful to just slightly stunning. Thankfully, there was an evergreen bush to break his fall, although it had served that exact same purpose a year ago when Uncle Vernon had fallen into it, and Harry was not sure how much more squashing it could take. And to his relief, there did not appear to be any ponies in the bush who had been crushed beneath him during his awkward landing. “Ah see you’re up early,” said Applejack, who sauntered up while Harry was sucking in a breath. “Good to see somepony so enthusiastic about getting to work, even though the sun’s been up for more than an hour now.” “My aunt is in my room,” Harry hissed while staggering to his knees. “She’s going to see all of you, and my life will be over!” “Oh!” Applejack whirled in place, put one hoof in her mouth, and let out a sharp whistle that probably could have been heard in Hogwarts. Every pony in the front yard looked back, then scattered into bushes and tufts of grass that Harry could have sworn were not able to conceal a fleabeetle. “Where are you at, you lazy boy!” Aunt Petunia’s voice filtered down from above, giving him just enough time to begin nipping broken agapanthus fronds off the bushes and give a short prayer of thanks that the rosebush had not been under his window. “Out here, Aunt Petunia,” he called back. “I wanted to… take care of this bush before going into the back yard.” Petunia’s sharp features soon graced Harry’s open window, and she scowled her way around looking at every plant in the front yard, including the young elm tree that had a rather large nest in the branches. “Chirp, chip,” said the suspicious bird nest in a most unconvincing way. “Well… finish up out here and get into the back yard where nobody can see you,” snapped Petunia. “Did you even start breakfast like you were supposed to?” “Um… Uh…” Harry spotted a pink pony sheltered under a nearby bush, who was nodding frantically so fast she was nearly a blur. “Pinkie— I mean yes, Aunt Petunia,” he blurted out, “I hope you made something good,” she grumbled. “Your uncle was up half the night putting Dudley’s bicycle together.” Harry was not quite sure if what Vernon had been doing could be classified as putting the bicycle together instead of just shuffling the parts around, and he most likely had not stayed up more than a few minutes more than his usual habit. Still, Harry kept his mouth shut and bent back to pulling the last few wilted leaves and crooked stems off the agapanthus plant before heading inside. After all, he wanted to see what was for breakfast too. * * * “Whoa.” Harry had seen smaller breakfasts laid out for entire Houses at Hogwarts, or at least the narrow confines of the Dursley’s kitchen made it seem so. Every single horizontal surface that could hold plates of pancakes was stacked solid, piled high, and dripping with syrup. At first, Harry tried to figure out why Dudley had not seen the horde of tiny ponies dashing around the kitchen making all this food, but with the way his chubby cousin was glued to the telly, an elephant stampeding through the living room could have easily been missed. “What have you been up to?” snapped Petunia from right behind Harry, which made him start. “Using up all of our kitchen supplies before your Aunt Marjorie visits tomorrow!” Harry was running out of excuses… actually had run out of excuses a few days ago and was now just making things up as he went. What was worse, there was something about Aunt Marge’s visit that he had forgotten in the chaos that the tiny ponies had brought with them. He had even written a note about it, somewhere in the maze of scribbled parchment upstairs in his room. “Let me get these pancakes to Dudley before they get cold,” he blurted out. It would at least give him a minute to think, or two minutes because Dudley sent him back to the kitchen twice to get butter and the right kind of syrup. With each trip, it seemed as if the collection of pancakes and waffles in the kitchen became smaller. The reason became clear when he saw a colorful tail under a plate vanish around the corner of the stairs, so he quickly grabbed a napkin as an excuse to make one last trip to his cousin. “Here you go, Dudley. Do you need anything else?” he added in as pleasant a voice as Harry was able. “Hush up,” snapped Dudley. “I can’t hear the programme!” Aunt Petunia was scowling by the doorway to the kitchen, apparently oblivious to the last few plates of pancakes creeping across the floor behind her, each with their own tail. “Well?” she huffed. “Did you want some pancakes too, Aunt Petunia?” Harry scurried around her and picked up one of the last two remaining plates, trying his best not to smile when she began looking around the kitchen for the other missing plates that had been right there a few moments ago. * * * Banishment to the back yard was not the punishment that Aunt Petunia thought it was. That’s not to say it was a picnic, because he still had hours and hours of shoveling and raking the disgusting fertilizer ahead of him. But with all of his little helpers, the work went about the same as if he had been back at Hogwarts, laboring in the greenhouse with Madame Sprout. Except for a lack of carnivorous plants. “Now this is the life,” declared a sweaty Applejack, who was holding the base of the rosebush while Harry dug up the dark earth around it. “Out workin’ in the sunshine without a care in the world.” “Aunt!” declared one of the watchful guards, leading to a rapid scurrying around the yard just before Aunt Petunia poked her thin nose out of an upstairs window. She looked around with her regular scowl seeming just a little deeper than usual, snapped a few orders at Harry, and vanished back inside. After a few moments, the rest of the ponies came out from their hiding places and resumed work, including Applejack. She braced the rosebush straighter and continued, “Of course Ah suppose every rose has its thorns.” “All I see is thorns,” grumbled Harry, who was sucking on his thumb where he had pricked it while grabbing for the falling rosebush. “Yew got your kinfolk, your life, and a place to call home,” countered Applejack. “There’s plenty of ponies — and I suppose people too — who can’t say that. You got friends too, from what you said earlier, and money.” “True.” Harry jabbed the spade into the ground and turned over another lump of fresh dirt. “I also have a very powerful wizard who wants me dead.” “Voldy-mart,” said Applejack with a frown. “Makes me wish we could take our Elements of Harmony and give him a good rainbow shower.” Harry thought about the concept before discarding it. Even if by some wild stroke of fantasy it was possible to bring all of the six ponies and their magical artefacts here, and by an unlikely chance they managed to find and use them on whatever spectre of Voldemort remained, the aftereffects would be… unspeakable. The Ministry of Magic would have kittens, to say the least, while thousands of elderly witches and wizards would most likely die of heart attacks from the cuteness. And, of course, The Boy Who Lived would immediately become The Boy Who Brought Colorful Cute Ponies, and he would never live that down if he survived to be two hundred years old. “Speaking of showers, where did the hosepipes go?” Harry looked around the yard for the expected coils of green hose to no avail. All the work they had done in the yard needed to be soaked in so the nutrients from the fertilizer would be absorbed and the roots would not dry out. In school, the Fifth Years and above would use the Aguamenti charm on their plants, although Harry’s class had not learned it yet, so Professor Sprout kept their homework correctly watered. Muggles used garden hosepipes, which seemed so odd to the Weasley family and so ordinary to Harry. He wondered how Arthur Weasley was getting along with their garden, which flourished and overgrew the small plot of ground behind their oddly proportioned country house. “What’re you looking for?” Applejack tromped the loose soil around the base of the rosebush and continued, “Ah sent Rainbow and the rest of the weather team up to get us some good old natural precipitation, if’n that’s it.” “Natural…” Harry looked up and saw the billowing clouds starting to gather in clumps, which seemed to have tiny little specks of color around them if he squinted just right. “Pegasi can control the weather?” “Sure as shootin’ they can. Why, Rainbow Dash is the best durned cloud wrangler anywhere. Ah told her we just needed a long soak after we got done with the back yard, but knowin’ her an’ seeing how many clouds you got up there, she’s going to water half the countryside.” Weather magic was not taught at Hogwarts before Sixth Year, if Harry remembered Hermione's moaning about it correctly. She had some ideas about improving it, much like every field of magic that she talked about. Since the weather around Hogwarts did not seem to be influenced by important events like upcoming quidditch games, Harry had always thought there must have been some pretty good reasons why wizards left the sky alone. To make matters worse, since Hogwarts taught spells to control the weather, and nobody did, that meant that the Ministry of Magic monitored such spells. He was so hosed. “You have to stop them,” hissed Harry. “Muggles will see them, the Ministry will find out and they’ll track you all back here and they’ll expel me from Hogwarts!” “Ain’t nopony gonna see Rainbow if’n she don’t want to be seen,” said Applejack. “You probably should get inside before it begins. She likes starting things with a bang.” The rest of the tiny ponies around the yard appeared to be getting ready for the rain too, from collecting tools to getting the empty bags stuffed into the trash bin. A distant rumble of thunder drew Harry’s eyes up again, and he forced his breathing to slow. If he did not know there were tiny winged ponies up in the sky, he might be able to discount the flickers of color he saw flitting around the edges of the rapidly moving clouds as some sort of reflections of the afternoon sun. He stood out in the fading sunlight until the first bits of mist began to drift down, just in case he spotted Ministry broomsticks up in the clouds. Then when the rain started to fall in occasional bursts of huge drops, he scooted under the eves of the house to take off his shoes. The mud in the tracks of his trainers would fall off inside the house and Aunt Petunia would make him vacuum, which would make Dudley complain about the noise and demand he ‘vacuum quieter’ somehow. That is unless the Ministry of Magic showed up before then to cart him away. A rolling peal of thunder rumbled around the sky, giving Harry a momentary tightness in his chest. He didn’t particularly like thunder. It reminded him of unpleasant things that floated around the edge of his memory without ever coming out into the open. Lightning was deadly and random, striking where it wanted and resisting most efforts to control it. The Daily Prophet had a particular corner on the second page where they liked to feature witches or wizards who were out flying in inclement weather before crossing a bolt of lightning. Most of them survived, of course, because it took a lot to kill a wizard, but the resulting photos left little to the imagination. “Are you afraid?” A yellow pegasus with enormous eyes delicately touched down on his knee and folded her wings up. If she had not said anything, Harry might not have even noticed, much as if she had been a passing butterfly resembling the teeny pink marks on her rump. Fluttershy, that was her name. Despite her bright colors, she was the last pony that Harry feared his aunt and uncle would spot, because she seemed to have developed hiding into an art form. “A little,” admitted Harry. “Thunderstorms are always so violent, and you never know if lightning will strike the house. When I was small and the power used to go out, it was so dark in my cupboard that I could almost taste it. I kept thinking the noises of my aunt and uncle stumbling around the house with a candle were some terrible and dark monster out to—” Harry caught the look of impending fear on Fluttershy’s face and quickly edited his words “—hurt me. I guess the cupboard was both a prison and a refuge.” An ear-splitting crack of thunder matched the brilliant flash of lighting cleaving across the sky, illuminating all of Little Whinging that he could see through the mass of pink and yellow that clung to his face and trembled against his glasses. Fluttershy was almost rigid with fear, and twitched with every new crack and rumble of the ongoing storm, even after all the lights in the house flared up and went dark from a lightning bolt that hit somewhere in the neighborhood. Harry really did not know what damp pegasi were supposed to smell like, only that Fluttershy had a flowery/herbal/sweet scent like she had been sipping on nectar like bees. He was more concerned by sharp little hooves scratching against his glasses, and put a hand up to hold onto the terrified tiny thing. She trembled under his fingers, although less after he stroked the back of her neck and held onto her for a while. “Sorry,” she whispered just barely above the fading rumble. “Lightning here is loud.” “That’s… understandable.” Harry glanced around to make sure he was not being watched, because having the Ministry of Magic find out about the ponies was starting to look like a distant second place finisher. If Dudley saw him petting a tiny pastel-coloured flying pony, he was not sure if his cousin would run screaming to Uncle Vernon or just keep the incident as some sort of blackmail material for the rest of his life. They sat there together for a time while the pegasus-powered thunder and lightning played itself out above the dark cloud cover, and Petunia and Vernon clattered around the house behind him. From the sounds of it, Dudley was no help at getting the lights back on, but it did let Harry keep track of his relatives by simply keeping a small portion of his attention on the constant complaining while the rest of him was free to… pet. “Do your pegasus friends have a chance to—” Harry considered the flitting bits of color in the sky, which looked a lot less like the drudgery of watering and more like some sort of equine quidditch match. “Oh, Rainbow doesn’t get a chance to play with wild weather at home,” said Fluttershy in a quiet whisper. “Other than storms out of the Everfree Forest, and she pushes them away from the town so they don’t break things. It’s good to see her having fun.” Another crack and rumble of thunder made the trembling pony tunnel deeper into Harry’s shirt. The rain started up with a quiet hiss, quite different than the frequent flashes and bangs up in the clouds. Thankfully, there was enough of an awning over the back patio door that Harry did not get immediately soaked, and the rain tended to muffle the ongoing pegasus playground noises. It was strangely peaceful, mostly because of the pony petting, but also due to the wet scent of damp earth and plants that began to sweep through the yard, as well as not having to sweat under the midsummer sun. The longer he sat there with the pony in his lap, the more other ponies came out of hiding to gather around him and watch the rain also. The sun was just beginning to set somewhere outside of the thick cloud cover when the lights came back on in the house, and the ponies promptly began to scatter. During his quiet time, several of the ponies had cleaned the dirt out of his trainers and returned the damp soil to one of the wet rosebushes, so there was no reason why Harry could not go right back inside to prepare supper. Well, other than he really did not want to. “I’m going to miss you,” he said, carefully setting Fluttershy down away from the glass patio window so his aunt and uncle would not see. “I was getting all stressed out by having so many of you here without seeing the advantages. It’s been so nice to have somebody to talk with.” “I’m glad you were here too,” said Fluttershy, who was taking nervous glances into the house where Vernon and Petunia were scurrying around. “It would have been so frightening if we had to talk with your relatives. They’re so big and loud.” “That’s it for now!” declared a loud voice above Harry. “Everypony inside and into the shower so we can get toweled off! Hey, what’s for dinner?” Harry Potter looked up at the colorful tiny pegasus who was hovering by one of the back windows while a stream of soggy pegasi flowed into the house behind her. Even with the brief glance he had, it was obvious that there were far more of the ponies now. That tense sensation of knotted muscles began to creep up Harry’s back again, and he could feel his temper rising, made only worse by the purple winged pony who bounced off the window sill and tumbled to the ground a few feet away. “Rainbow!” The little alicorn staggered to her hooves and glared upwards. “Sorry, Twi!” The pegasus grinned and darted into the window with a fading, “Early birds get the hot water!” “I am so going to remember this tomorrow morning when we go home,” said Twilight Sparkle under her breath. She turned with an obvious smile to Harry and cleared her throat, only to get cut off. “You’re going home tomorrow morning?” asked Harry quickly. “You’re sure this time? Absolutely certain? Because I don’t think my aunt is going to believe that many pegasi out in the backyard tomorrow are just colorful birds with hooves.” “Absolutely positive,” chirped Twilight. “I established a full baseline for the transmission matrix by summoning the weather team from Ponyville and took leyline transits while we were laying out the storm. Um… It may rain off and on for the whole week after we’re gone, if that’s not a problem, because I had to tie—” “A week is fine,” assured Harry. “We get a lot of rain anyway. Just as long as you’re sure nobody saw you up there.” “Absolutely.” Twilight gave a sharp nod. “Now, about dinner this evening. I’m starving. All this flying really worked up an appetite.” “I’ll make a nice rice pilaf with mushrooms,” said Harry. “It expands easily into more servings than my relatives can eat, and I’ll just call the cooking an ‘accident’ like normal. They’ll never notice.” “Boy!” came the sound of Vernon’s bellowing from inside the house. “Why haven’t you started cooking yet! And why is Dudley’s new bicycle out in the front yard’s flower bed?” “Whoops!” Twilight quickly put a wing over Fluttershy and lit up her horn. “We’ll just get out of your way.” There was a flash of light, and the yard was empty of equines again, although Harry had to consider one thing when he went inside to begin his evening ordeal at the stove. I wonder if I could just keep one of them?