Harry sighed. Apparently, it was tradition at Hogwarts that the students waited for their exams to be graded before they went home, instead of the school simply owl-mailing the results. As a result, they had to hang around for a few days. Which made the whole ‘End of Year Feast’ rather a bit of a let-down. He had thought they would be returning home the next day on the Hogwarts’ Express. Instead, it would be next Saturday, the twentieth.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” his mum said after the End of Year Feast, when they were at The Burrow. “But you really should finish out the year with your friends at the school. I know you’d rather just return home, I’d rather you did that, too.” They were in the sitting room, his mum pacing in front of the fireplace, with him and the five witches sitting on the couch or its arms watching her.
“But the other students will notice if you aren’t there. And there will be rumours, once more, that you are getting special treatment because of who you are. It will draw attention to you even more than the kidnapping did. And not in a good way.”
She sighed at his disappointed expression. “There are many reasons why I’m asking this of you. The major reason we are having you attend Hogwarts is for you to experience some of what your heritage is all about. Both your mother and father attended school here, learning this fascinating approach to magic. I think that this is a good opportunity to give you an idea of what they learned and how that made them what they were. This way, when Sirius or Remus tell you a story about your parents, you’ll know what they are talking about, and have a better understanding of them.”
He sighed and nodded. He did want to know more about his parents. Not that he didn’t love his mum, of course. But she was his mum now, they were his parents, then. From the histories he had read, and the stories he had been told, his parents had loved him just as much, if not more, than his mum. They had, after all, sacrificed their very lives to protect him.
He resolved to learn as much about his parents as possible. It was only right to do so. He owed them that, if nothing else. He couldn’t let their memory die.
She pulled him from the couch and hugged him. “Harry, there is a reason Riddle attacked your parents’ home ten years ago.” She pushed him back, holding him at arms-length, her hands on his shoulders. She looked him steadily in his eyes. “Apparently, there is a ‘true’ prophecy about you, one that was issued well before you were born. It says that you will be the pony to destroy, or, rather, vanquish, the Dark Lord. Which everyone thinks you did ten years ago.”
The fillies sat there in shock at the revelation. Then they lunged to their feet and surrounded Harry and his mum in a group hug.
A prophecy that he had been the target that night ten years ago, just as he had been the target last week? The Dark Lord had gone to their home that night to kill him, not them? Just as he had chosen Harry out of all the students at Hogwarts last week? He had gone out of his way to kidnap Harry, when other students would have been easier to capture, and less likely to be noticed as missing. And the original reason was a prophecy made before he was born?
Ten years ago, he suddenly realized, his parents had willingly sacrificed themselves to save him. The Dark Lord’s attack on Harry had not been merely an accident of time and place. Ever since arriving back here, after getting his Hogwarts’ letter, he had had a feeling that that attack wasn’t as random as everyone had thought. His parents had known the Dark Lord wanted Harry, that the Dark Lord wanted Harry specifically. They could have stood to the side and then been safe.
It was simply incredulous to think that what had happened in his nursery was the result of anything he might have done!
He had read the stories about that night. While most followed the same narrative of when and where things had happened, they dramatically differed on the details. Some had his father in a long, dramatic, and desperate fight, with declaration, speeches, and demands. Others said he had dodged a few spells and then had been killed.
No one knew what had happened in his nursery that night, but the stories were as varied as they were many. They had only one detail that they all agreed on — his parents had died from the Killing Curse.
Knowing the Dark Lord was after him, his mother and father, most likely his mother, had done something to protect him. Something so powerful, it had done what had never happened before — reflected the killing curse back at its originator, even after his parents were dead.
And Harry had, somehow, survived the same curse. Because of what they had done.
And he knew it was true. How he knew, he couldn’t say. It was just a feeling that he had. Deep, deep inside was the feeling that, impossible as it seemed, the Dark Lord had died after casting that curse at him.
“Unfortunately, after last week, we know he is trying to come back.” His mum sighed sadly. “It doesn’t matter if the prophecy is true or not, Tom believes it is true and is acting accordingly. Which is why he did what he did ten years ago, in singling you out. And the reason was the same for last week.”
Unluckily, Harry knew, he was famous in the wizarding world for both surviving the Killing Curse and vanquishing the Dark Lord. Something his parents had done, not him. They were the ponies who had destroyed the Dark Lord, the first time.
As a baby, Harry had neither the magic nor skill to destroy such a powerful wizard. But the backwards, stupid, simple-minded, dunderheaded wizards had decided he, Harry, a baby, had beaten the Dark Lord! Imbeciles.
Not that his mum used those words to describe witches and wizards, but they were appropriate.
He couldn’t help snorting in derision at the very thought that he had beaten the Dark Lord.
Just like he hadn’t beaten the Dark Lord this time, either. It had been his mum to the rescue. And the Headmaster. He had been only moments from death.
“And now,” his mum said, “everything you do in public is scrutinized closely.”
But the belief that he had beaten the Dark Lord meant he was a symbol to the witches and wizards. He was as famous here as Princess Luna was at home!
Everypony watched and reported everything he did, just as the ponies did Luna at home. He was both praised and criticized for almost everything he did. Just like Luna. He could do no wrong, he could do no good.
He could only hope the attention would shift to somepony else quickly. And it usually did. But it always came right back to him, again and again.
She pushed him back, again, to arms-length. She studied his reactions carefully. “Never worry that I am anything but proud of what you have done, or will do, in this school. What you’re learning here is a valuable experience that the Princesses hope you can share with others when you finish it.”
He nodded, dazed, in reply.
“Right now, the Princesses are setting up an entire schooling system, for adults, to bring this knowledge and expertise to our ponies. But what you are learning here is how future generations of ponies will learn while they are colts and fillies. The insights you, and the fillies,” she had looked over at the three witches sitting nearby, “can give us will be invaluable in designing what is appropriate for us.” She had looked back at him, and dropped her arms to her sides.
“You four know what it is like in Equestria.” She looked at Harry and the fillies as they slowly sat back on the couch.
“Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo, you three know what it is like to be a pony. The wizard and witch tutors we’re bringing through do not have that understanding. They still feel and think like humans, not ponies. And that colours how they approach all their subjects. Ponies have an innate understanding of magic that the humans just can’t comprehend, simply because they aren’t using magic, like we do, from the moment they learn to walk.”
She had smiled at them. “When the Princesses asked you, Harry, to go to this school last year, they had no idea what they were asking. Nopony understood just how different magic was in this world.” She took a deep breath.
“Nor did anypony understand just how difficult a place this world is for magic users. There are a thousand times more people here than there are ponies in Equestria. And there are a hundred times more ponies than there are witches and wizards in England. So the problems are incredibly complex. And the Princesses want to do everything they can to simplify those problems.
“We have an excellent relationship with the non-magical humans. Unfortunately, their history and fear of magic is going to make it difficult to maintain that relationship. But we will still try. There is too much to share between us, that will benefit us both, to just give up.
“We want an excellent relationship with the witchkind. There is so much they can teach us about using magic in ways we never suspected. But with their secretive attitude, and disdain of anything that hasn’t been in their society for generations, it is going to be a difficult undertaking.
“Which is why we’re asking you to join the rest of your friends at Hogwarts during the day instead of just going home right now. Like it or not, your name, Harry Potter, is a symbol to these witches and wizards. And we have to take that into account with everything you do. As a result, you staying, or not staying, at Hogwarts will have an impact on what the Princesses want to do with witchkind in this world.
“And, while the Princesses would like it if you stayed here, if you decide to not return here in September, in view of what has happened this year, they have told me they will honour your decision and not mention it again.”
She pulled him up again and hugged him, joined by the fillies. “Don’t worry about the prophecy. That’s for us adults to take care of. We will deal with him, just as we did last week. If you need to be involved, we will tell you and coach you. And, above all, protect you. You’re my son, I couldn’t do less.”
“Besides, do you really want to just abandon your friends?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said softly.
“And, this gives you the opportunity to decide who you would like to come visit us in Ponyville this summer. In addition to the Weasleys and Grangers, of course.”
He just stood there for a few minutes, basking in the glow that ponies cared about him in a way no one here had ever done — except maybe his parents.
۸-~-۸
He and the Weasleys continued to floo to the school, through Dumbledore’s office, every morning and then return to The Burrow every evening after dinner. During the day, they had optional classes to attend, or they could spend their time playing or studying with their friends.
The Guards had noticed the trebuchet by the lake when they had first arrived and quickly built one of their own. Throughout the day came the steady Thunk! Splash! as the students and guards relaxed and used them. Seeing the pegasi Guards play dodge-pony with the devices had inspired a new sport of dodge-broom. Madam Pomfrey had not been pleased at the new influx of broken bones that had precipitated.
The Quidditch students didn’t care.
And right now, Harry was sitting in the stands, watching a ‘pick-up’ game of Quidditich between Ravenclaw and some off-duty pegasi Guards. Despite their unfamiliarity with the game, the pegasi were making the Ravenclaws work for every goal. At the moment, Ravenclaw was ahead by two goals.
After this game, the Hufflepuffs had scheduled their own game against a different team of pegasi.
It was all rather fun to watch, but he would have sooner gone home.
But Neville had told him that there was a protocol to inviting somepony to visit you at your home. If they were close family friends, like the Weasleys and Grangers, a simple, “come on over,” was adequate. But if you didn’t know the parents, a more formal approach was required.
He pulled a scroll and quill from his rucksack. He stared at the Guard Seeker circling high overhead. Now who would he like to see come visit this summer?
۸-~-۸
Having to take the Hogwarts’ Express back to London, and then the floo to the Embassy, instead of doing something faster and more direct, was disappointing. On the other hoof, it did give everyone a chance to say goodbye to their friends until next September.
Making matters worse, as far as he was concerned, was that both Bon Bon and Lyra insisted on traveling on the train, too. As if he had to have foalsitters at his age.
The carriages to the Hogsmeade train station were escorted by the EUP, of course, to the watching villagers’ surprise. They had known something had happened at the school two weeks ago, but details had been sorely lacking. Seeing scores of barely waist-high ponies, wearing strange golden armour and other equipment mounted on saddles, both flying and pacing the carriages left them speechless. That half of the ponies walking were unicorns merely added to the villagers’ confusion. Unicorns didn’t wear armour, they didn’t march in formation, and they certainly didn’t start a conversation with you when you rhetorically asked what was going on!
Oh, they knew about the Equestrians having pony animagi forms, and they had seen several of the students in those forms before. Not to mention that there had been that strange situation earlier in the year with the explosions coming from the forest behind the castle and a couple of ponies in the village. But there was a difference between seeing two or three students changing into animgi, and then seeing scores of stern-faced armour-wearing examples right in front of you. That they were in pony forms, now, instead of appearing as wizards and witches, was especially confusing.
Harry noticed, while waiting for his and his herdmates’ turn in the carriages, that the ponies were clearly packing up their equipment and leaving. The mess and other tents had been packed away, the weaponry emplacements were in process of being dismantled, and the various dugouts, trenches, and foxholes were being filled back in. Earth ponies were busy restoring the lawn to its original condition. By tomorrow, he knew, no pony would ever know they had been there. It was quite an accomplishment, truthfully.
To his surprise, and he really shouldn’t have been, he saw that Guards were sitting on top of the train. There were at least three on top of each car.
The trip was nowhere as bad as he had expected. There was almost a constant stream of people dropping by to say goodbye for the summer. It also let Harry, and the fillies, pass out invitations to their friends to visit Equestria. And plenty of time to peruse the wonderful photo-album that Hagrid had put together as a leaving gift.
Harry learned from Neville that the school year was timed to end so that the students would always be home before the Summer Solstice, the twenty-first, Apparently many of the more traditional wizarding families celebrated it.
It also meant Harry and the fillies would be home in time for the Summer Sun Celebration in Equestria.
Arriving in London to find his mum, Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Sirius was a pleasant surprise. He and the fillies looked forward to spending the night at their homes. And the giant party tomorrow.
۸-_-۸
Elly stared at the rock. She was in her luxuriously-furnished “sitting room” as they called it, in her newly refurbished mansion. It wasn’t in Scotland, as she had told everyone. The Goblins had talked her into this one, it was only about two hundred miles, as the Goblins had said, from London. It was far closer to the humans than she had wanted, but the price had been better than anything else.
It was equipped with a floo-connection, but that was currently closed. The floo had actually taken a lot of thought. She hadn’t wanted to select a name that might give any Equestrian a pause on hearing it. Similarly, she had wanted to acknowledge her heritage. In the end, after hours of indecision, she had decided “Locum Tenens de Rippes,” Holding Place of the Rippes, would do the job.
It wasn’t a simple name anyone could guess, which made it safer. It held nothing that might attract an Equestrian investigation. And none would ever make the connection hidden within it, which she found very satisfying.
In any event, powerful protective and mild repelling charms were up, and powered, on the mansion, itself, to keep the curious away. Both magical and not. The War Charms that the goblins had established had cost almost as much as the entire rest of the property. They were currently dormant and awaiting activation, should they ever be needed.
It would take her most of the summer to dig her escape tunnel and the preliminary storage chambers under the mansion. She had decided not to have the Goblins do any of the excavation. The fewer that knew of her hive’s existence, the better. And, she knew she would have a hive. The Mirror of Erised seemed quite certain of that, based on what she had seen in it. It might not be a traditional hive, but it would be hers.
Her new home was a combination of a non-magical estate of several hundred acres, the Riddles, and a magical family fallen on rough times, the Gaunts, another several hundred acres, totalling six hundred and seven acres. The Gaunt homestead had been abandoned for too long and the Goblins had razed it.
The caretaker’s cottage was one of several clustered near the new entrance to the combined estate. There would be room for more, if needed. The presence of a village not far away was both a bonus and detraction. It made a convenient source of food and extra labour beyond her estate, but it also brought the estate closer to the eyes of outsiders.
But the convenience of the nearby village was just a bit too enticing.
The only other problem was the graveyard on the site. She didn’t want to neglect it and have someone wonder why she was ignoring traditions. They might come to investigate! She would hire locals to clean up the location so that it no longer looked so desolate and abandoned. That she was considerate of local feeling would probably win her latitude in her dealings with them. And lull suspicion that she was an evil Equestrian monster.
Any goodwill she could establish in the area would be to her distinct advantage! Good neighbours would do a lot to deflect any questions outsiders might pose.
Or could it, perhaps, be moved to a better location — one not on her property? If it wasn’t on her property, she didn’t have to make allowances for unexpected visitors seeing things they shouldn’t.
It was the Monday after returning to London Saturday on the Hogwarts Express. She was pointedly ignoring the letter in her rucksack. It was an invitation from Harry Potter to visit Ponyville this summer.
The mere thought of it made her shudder.
The mansion was nice, she supposed, once more glancing around the room. The Goblins had expended no small amount of galleons refurbishing and furnishing it. Ten bedrooms did seem a bit too much to her, having only ever seen the average-pony houses in Canterlot, briefly, and Ponyville. But the Goblins seemed to think this was appropriate for someone with her resources, so she didn’t think any more about it.
Unfortunately, as the only ling, pony, or person in the building, it had felt rather . . . empty. Especially after living in the dorms with constant company for the last ten months. Which was why she had spent the nights in the small storage closet beside the empty wine-room’s door in the cellar. It was much cosier when she added in pillows and blankets — she had gotten spoiled at Hogwarts sleeping in a bed. And much more reminiscent of her hive back in Equestria than the huge bedrooms above.
She would have started making resin walls down there, but she had plans for a proper hive and didn’t want to waste the effort. Any room that a non-ling might see was to be left entirely alone, in that respect. She didn’t want to leave any evidence that things weren’t exactly as they appeared.
The one wall she had planned to use as an access would be carefully removed and replaced when she figured out the trick used at platform nine-and-three-quarters. It looked and acted like a wall until the right person approached it with a ticket. She wanted to tune it to only accept lings.
It was a long-term project, given her current understanding of magic. In the meantime, a rotating wall would suffice.
She had no worries about food. The Gryffindor party to celebrate winning both the Quidditch and Hogwarts’ House Cups for the first time in seven years had been a bonus she hadn’t anticipated. Three more full jars — one had started out half-full — and part of another had been added to her collection. Once more she had eleven-plus jars. More than enough to last her until December, much less September. She could even stretch it out further if she made a few trips to Madam Puddifoots Tea Shop. And that was assuming she couldn’t entice any newly-married tenants to the caretaker’s cottage.
The current caretaker was a sour old man, barely managing to keep things from falling apart. That the villagers all viewed him with suspicion was not helpful in the slightest. Suspicions of him would become suspicions of her.
Queen Mother would have disposed of him. But here, that would attract unwanted attention. It would be worth the money to send him to retirement far away. Give him a lump sum of money, a ticket to the Caribbean, and he would no longer be her problem. Perhaps buy a small cottage, there, with free rent to make sure he stayed put.
First, this morning, she had carefully licked off the love clinging to the resin-coated Stone — that had made for a nice breakfast and filled her nicely, she wouldn’t need to eat again all day, maybe two. It had then taken her only a few minutes of careful tapping with a hammer and chisel to remove the resin. The rock was now revealed in all its dubious glory.
She swept the resin aside. She would recycle it into her tunnels. Waste not, want not.
The Stone was a translucent-red in colour, longer than it was wide, roughly shaped, with odd angles and curves. It was only a bit larger than her fist. No one would ever mistake it for a gem. It just didn’t have the required clarity and shine. Nor facets.
Although, when the light hit it just right, it almost seemed to glow deep inside.
It didn’t look very impressive. It looked like an oddly-shaped piece of something broken off from a glass sculpture. If she had seen it in Equestria, she wouldn’t have looked twice. If it had been in her way, she would have kicked it out of sight without a thought.
From what she had heard from the gossips at Hogwarts, though, this was the so-called Philosopher’s Stone. An item of incalculable value. The thing that an evil wizard had kidnapped Harry Potter to get. Not that she could figure out what the pony had to do with this rock.
“You can make gold from lead with the Philosopher’s Stone,” they said. “And make a potion that will grant you longer life each time you drink it.”
She snorted. Not that she knew how to make it do either of those two things.
It did have an interesting smell, however. An enticing odour. And the feel of it was softer than a ling would expect of a rock. Both were things she had not noticed previously.
The longer she looked at it, the more she realized that it was attractive, in its own way.
She noticed a small speck of green resin on one side.
She gave it a quick lick. Her saliva should make it an easy matter to remove the offending material — it was hers, after all. To her surprise, the Stone had a taste! She frowned, and tried again. What was that taste?
It almost reminded her of how love tasted, but it wasn’t as sweet. She would have thought that some of the love in the jar had soaked through the resin — which was supposed to be impossible if she had done it right — except it had a slightly sour taste, too. It seemed to change, as she continued to lick it. It actually tasted good!
She seized a corner of it in her teeth and tentatively bit down on it. To her surprise, a tiny sliver broke off. She held it in her mouth, working it from side to side, the taste of it constantly changing. Her mouth filled with saliva and she swallowed . . . and couldn’t find the piece with her tongue anymore. It was gone.
She stared intently at the stone, and then grabbed the end in her teeth and bit down hard. There was a crack, and a tiny fingernail-shaped chip broke off. This one tasted different, spicier — like victory.
She sat the Stone back on the table and stared. Slowly, she picked it up and dropped it back in its jar, still partially filled with love. Sealing the jar closed, again, she carried it into the cellar. She carefully excavated a pocket in the wall and sealed the jar in it. She took her time and carefully blended the new surface until it looked just like every other brick. To anyone who came in and looked, it was just another brick in the wall. Completely unnoticeable unless you were a ling and searching for it.
She wandered back upstairs. Why had she taken a bite of that? Why did it feel so soft? Why did it taste so good? Why did it make her feel odd? She decided she would leave it alone for a while.
Next on her schedule today was to inspect the greenhouses and tiny village by the gate. And then wander the perimeter of her estate. That should finish off the day. And provide her with the mental map she needed for her tunnels.
۸-_-۸