The howling winds smothered the “alohomora” even as it left the lips of the black unicorn filly pointing her horn at the rear door of the facility. A curtain of fluffy flakes hid the figure who stood waist deep, silhouetted against the blanket of white. The soft click of the latch opening announced the wave of foals who charged into the kennel as quietly as ghosts. One pair flew to the ceiling on leather wings while another pair used feathered. They latched themselves at strategic locations along the ceiling. Simultaneously, two earth ponies rushed forward and took up station on opposite sides of the door leading to the hallway. Three black unicorn foals brought up the rear. All hope of entering unnoticed died as every dog in the facility enthusiastically greeted them.
“Mum?” Hermione called out as loudly as she dared.
From above, Abigail's disembodied voice replied, "She's not here." Looking up, Hermione could see only darkness.
“Ooooo,” Seamus said, shifting into a human boy clad in a shozoku. “Is that a tranq gun? Come to papa.”
“Seamus, leave that alone,” Parvati scolded. “They aren’t going to leave a loaded gun lying around, and we don’t have time for you to figure out how it works.”
"What's there to figure out?" asked Seamus. "You just load, point, and shoot."
“Just leave it,” Sweetie said. “We just want to get in and out. Philomena is waiting for our signal, and I don’t want to keep her out in that cold for any longer than I have to.”
Suddenly, the door to the hallway opened, admitting two men. “Alright what’s with the commotiooooooooooooon!” the first one through said as he found himself on the receiving end of a perfectly executed tomoe nage. Dogs whined as their cages broke his fall.
“What! Ooooof!” the second in line exclaimed as Neville took his legs out from underneath him.
*Pfft!*
“Ack!” the second exclaimed as the dart that blossomed from his shoulder added emphasis.
“Bill!” the formerly flying Englishman called out. “Hey! Watch were you’re pointing that! Not in the face! Not in the face!”
*Pfft!*
Parvati watched the two succumb to their drug-induced slumber. “I withdraw my objections.”
“I thought we were just going to have Hermione stun everyone,” Abigail said as the men noisily dozed.
“I can cast stupefy, too,” Sweetie huffed.
“Yeah, and we all saw that you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn at five paces,” Dean countered.
“I’m not that bad,” Sweetie seethed.
“Maybe it was ten paces,” Parvati acknowledged, “but that doesn’t change the fact that the safest person in the room would be your target."
“Lavender,” Neville said, “Apple Bloom is gonna have a fit when she hears you’ve been throwing men around again.”
“Right now, I just want to help Hermione free her parents and get back to Mum and Dad. I’ll take the thousand laps around the Quidditch pitch.”
“Maybe we should save the arguing for later.” Luna’s disembodied voice drifted downward. “I can hear voices from down the hallway.”
“Right!” Sweetie agreed. “Onward! Cutie Mark Crusader Hostage Rescuers!”
“Yay!” The battle cry cut through the cacophony of barking dogs as the room rapidly became ponyless.
“So much for subtlety,” Parvati moaned as she joined the charge.
Emma sighed as she lowered what would have completed a grand slam and looked at her husband, who was sprawled out on the table with his tongue hanging out. “Sweetie, you really need to work on your aim.”
“Oops. Sorry Mrs. Granger.”
“Never mind that,” Dean said. “Call for the evac.”
“Oh, right,” Sweetie said. “Philomena!”
A burst of flames answered her call.
“Slow down, children,” Emma commanded, using a hoof to nudge one of the unconscious women who was splayed atop the table. “There is no reason to get excited.”
“They kidnapped you,” Seamus protested.
“We managed to work it out,” Emma said, turning to prod the other woman. “Why don’t you go ahead and wake everyone up?”
“Is that a good idea, Mum?” Hermione asked.
“Yes, we need to deescalate,” Emma said. “There has been more than enough forced unconsciousness today.”
The roar of thunder and a flash of lightning filled the room.
“All right! Nopony . . . move?” Rainbow Dash commanded as she hovered above several other ponies and took in the view.
“You’re late,” Emma dryly noted.
“What happened here?” Twilight asked, her horn still glowing defensively.
“The kids happened,” Emma answered.
“Kids?” Shining Armor asked. “You drafted baby goats?”
“It’s a term that humans use to refer to all children,” Lyra corrected. “What she’s saying is that the Cutie Mark Crusaders happened.”
“Okay. That makes a lot more sense.”
“Twilight, could you wake everyone up please?” Emma asked, using her hooves to collect the cards spilled across the break room table.
“Including the humans?”
“Yes, please.”
“All right.” Twilight’s horn flashed.
“Sweetie!” Rarity gasped, noticing the formerly white unicorn filly for the first time. “What did you do to your coat?”
“Um, we used shoe polish so we could hide better. Hermione does glow in the dark.”
“Noooooo!” Rarity called out before swaying and fainting onto a red divan that miraculously appeared.
“You should have waited before reviving everypony,” Bon Bon suggested, watching as Rarity dramatically dropped.
“Huh? Why are there ponies everywhere?” Marcy, the human veterinarian, asked, groggily raising her head from the table. “And where is the Billy-Bob Brigade? I thought they were only going to check on the dogs.”
“They’re taking a nap,” Seamus said smugly.
“Great, the cavalry is here to erase our memories,” Sally muttered, lifting her own head and blinking rapidly.
“We can do that?” Shining Armor asked, throwing a worried look to his younger sister.
“The humans do have a spell that does that. It’s how they keep themselves hidden,” Twilight acknowledged.
“Twilight, Sugarcube, jus' so ya know, it would do wonders fer my state of mind if y'all never learn that there spell,” Applejack said, absently fanning Rarity with her Stetson.
“That goes double for you,” Bon Bon told Lyra.
“Already know it,” Lyra said. “In fact, now is exactly the right time to use it.”
“You don’t have to,” Marcy raised her hands defensively. “It’s kind of meaningless now.”
Lyra smirked as a golden aura covered her horn. “Obliviate.”
Both women eeped and ducked under the table.
“Just kidding,” Lyra said. “I don’t have a license and I’m in no hurry to do permanent damage if I messed it up.”
“Not funny!” Marcy yelled.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Fluttershy said, causing the humans to note her presence for the first time.
“Lyra, we don’t want Emma and Dan to get in hot water with the Ministry,” Twilight said. “That’s why everyhuman here is just going to agree that this never happened.”
“Works for us,” Sally said.
“How do we know they’ll keep quiet?” Rainbow asked.
“Pinkie Promise,” Twilight stated flatly.
“That’ll do it,” Applejack agreed. “Ya’d have ta be a mite touched in the head to break a Pinkie Promise.”
“That reminds me; we left Pinkie alone at the hospital,” Sweetie said.
Everypony in the room turned their attention on the unicorn filly. “Y'all did what now?” Applejack asked, exasperated.
“Is that vanilla frosting?” a healer asked.
“No, Amaretto,” replied his colleague. “It’s rather good, too.”
With a scowl painted on his face, Draco Malfoy followed his cousin through the uncomfortably deep snow. He was regretting his decision to follow her out into London for the large breakfast she had craved while the rest of the house still slept. Though he had to admit that her mistrust of the house elf had some merit. Why she chose trudging to a muggle restaurant over flooing to a wizarding establishment was beyond him, especially since the storm the night before made the trek miserable and cold. Draco wasn’t sure why he had decided to tag along.
It had taken a good forty-five minutes to travel from the family house to a modern café with large windows and a glass door for an entryway. The chilled air had left him anticipating hot tea to warm his bones, muggle restaurant or not. He was stomping the snow off his boots when the waitress came over with a pair of menus in her hand.
“Table for two, dearies?” the older woman asked, flashing a welcoming smile.
“Yes please,” Nymphadora said, removing her hat and freeing her short pink hair from the confining brown wool.
The waitress blinked in surprise upon seeing the unexpected color, then turned and noted that Draco had an unusually pale blonde shade to his own hair. Then, she violated all rules of personal space by reaching out and running her free hand through Nymphadora’s now-exposed pink tresses. “I never would have dreamed this possible. You don’t have roots; this is natural.” The waitress breathed, “You’re a pony.”
Nymphadora blinked; she hadn’t expected to run into a witch slinging hash at the local muggle café, but how else could she have made that leap of logic? “Actually, no, I’m a changeling.”
The waitress froze, eyes going wide in terror with her hand still in the younger woman’s hair. “One of the Fae?” A tremble made its way over her body.
“Nah, Equestrian changelings are completely different,” Nymphadora said reassuringly, not wanting to cause a scene for the muggles by going with the obvious prank just waiting to happen. “Only the name is the same. Don’t worry, Fae still haven’t been seen for centuries.”
The waitress breathed a shuddering sigh of relief and withdrew her hand. “I suppose you’ll be wanting something vegetarian then? I’m sure the cook can whip you something up, even if it isn’t on the menu.” She turned to eye Draco expectantly as she asked Nymphadora the question.
“Nah. I’m here for as much greasy meat as I can stomach,” Nymphadora said. “Not sure what Draco wants, though.”
“I’ll be eating human style,” Draco snapped. “If I wanted pony food, I’d have owled myself to Diamond and eaten with her.”
“You’re a changeling, too?” the waitress asked.
“Earth pony,” Draco said proudly, puffing out his chest with pride.
Nymphadora used the long sleeve of her coat to cover her casting of a discreet notice-me-not spell since the topic was becoming something she’d have to obliviate from any muggle who overheard.
“Well then, let’s get you seated and fed.” The waitress said, motioning for the duo to follow.
Common wisdom had dictated that the war that had forged a coalition of disparate nations would have been the story of the century. Conventional wisdom had been unwise. Around the world, people now struggled to understand the implications of one reporter’s work. In the island nation, variations on a theme were bandied about by talking heads. In the typical household, the telly played in the background as people argued about its message.
“Welcome back, and good morning to those just joining us. We are, of course, discussing the shocking revelations that bombarded the airwaves just this previous evening in a coordinated release worldwide — the joint declaration that magic, of all things, is real and has been hidden from the general population for generations. My first guest of the day is a professor of social and political theory from our beloved Oxford. Please welcome Dr. Simon Burrows.”
“Thank you, Grant. It is an honor to be on your program following such a revolutionary announcement.”
“It is a mind-boggling thing that we are learning. Obviously, this changes our understanding of the world in ways yet to be considered. I’m curious to hear your thoughts on the matter.”
The professor took a deep breath before saying, “Our world has just been shaken off its very foundation. By that, I mean religion, already on the decline, has just been dealt a mortal blow. All that is left is waiting for it to bleed out.”
The host openly frowned deeply at that. “You are, of course, exaggerating. There isn’t the slightest chance that this news would have such a dramatic effect on what people believe. There is no need to be such an alarmist.”
“It is not an exaggeration,” the professor said. “One of the most important revelations from last night was one mentioned almost in passing. The Greek and Roman gods must have been ancient wizards and witches, mortals with extraordinary powers who made claims to divinity. How long, then, is it before people make the connection that the same thing doubtlessly holds true for the founding individuals of all modern religions. Mohammad flying towards the heavens on a flying steed is no longer unthinkable, but at the same time, no longer divine. Jesus walking on water is now a petty parlor trick, as is the summoning of fish and loaves. In that context, Buddha’s golden bowl is almost laughable.”
The professor paused as the host absorbed his words with eyes bulged in disbelief. “Miracles are no longer miracles; they are something the woman down the street can do for a lark. What impressed your father and your father’s father will be commonplace for your children. Yes, there will be die hard traditionalists, but their influence has been cut off at the knees.”
“That is preposterous,” the host snapped. “Their power lies in their parables. People have a need to believe in something greater than themselves; that is what makes them strive to be better than what their base instincts dictate.”
The professor shrugged. “We now see that their faith is based on the mundane, not the miraculous.”
“Wizards cannot create whole universes. They cannot raise the dead back to life. I refuse to even think that Jesus was just some wizard bloke who decided he’d pull the world’s most callous prank.”
“That is because you’ve been conditioned to obey and not question.”
“Have you stopped to consider that these witches and wizards are nothing more than devil worshippers who care for nothing but their own greedy desires?”
“And that, my dear boy . . .” The professor smirked smugly. “. . . is exactly why they went into hiding in the first place.”
In the overstuffed treehouse that served as Ponyville’s library, Shining Armor made his way to the kitchen. Yawning, he craved the nectar of the gods. He had suffered through a long, late night. It had taken forever to calm Clouded enough to get her to sleep on the lumpy couch, and flushing the adrenaline from what turned out to be an unnecessary rescue of the Grangers had taken most of what was left of the night. He wanted to sleep through lunch, but he had promises to keep.
Things would improve once he had a nice pot of brown wakefulness. He had learned a spell to brew an instant batch that could wake the dead. Once he finished that, he could surprise his mother and Spike by cooking breakfast. Surely, they would appreciate getting to relax that morning while he handled the chore.
An enticing aroma broke him from his reverie. Someone had beaten him to the punch. He drooled in anticipation as he opened the kitchen door, only to witness true horror. On the table, on a bed of papers, lay the coffee carafe. It was dry as a bone.
Pulling his focus back, he saw that the papers on the table were covered with arcane calculations. Pulling back further, he spotted the culprit. His baby sister was sitting behind an assortment of sophisticated instruments for measuring different characteristics of magic, lost in thought. Clearly, she had spent the night trying to analyze the attack on the colt that had taken place under her roof.
“So, what exactly happened?” Shining asked, startling his sister out of her analytic fugue.
“Oh! BBBFF!” Twilight said excitedly, not seeming the least bit tired. “I’ve isolated the residual thaumic oscillations corresponding to the attack and correlated them with the median harmonic . . .”
She was cut off as Shining reached out with his magic to clamp her muzzle shut. “Twiley, please, I just woke up. The magic kindergarten version please.”
Twilight shook her head to loosen his grip. “Sorry,” she snarled with a glare. “There is just so much data to go over.”
“Only half of which I’d understand,” Shining said. “If that.”
Twilight fixed him with disapproving eyes before starting over. “You see, Harry Potter is famous in his world because his parents were killed by an evil stallion by the name of Voldemort. The monster attacked the colt’s family when he was just a year old. The father was killed first, then the mother. Harry Potter was the third target and supposedly the spell used was reflected back at the caster, leaving Harry unharmed, except for that scar he has.”
“Magical surge?” Shining asked.
“That is what most of the humans believe, but the protective spell around Harry suggests that it was his mother’s work. She gave her life to save her foal.
Shining nodded his head with respect. “What does that have to do with what happened last night?”
“Her protection wasn’t perfect. A piece of Voldemort’s soul was lodged in Harry’s skull. That’s why the scar never healed properly. Meanwhile, a part of his mother stayed to protect him. That’s the fight we witnessed last night; his mother finally drove out the monster. We were planning on using the elements on him before he goes back to school, but that is no longer necessary.”
“What was that attack? Is Voldemort still out there then?”
“That was Voldemort’s soul calling to the fragment. I don’t know what prompted it, but it could mean he is not gone for good.” Twilight grimaced. “It could also mean something was destroying him and this was a last-ditch effort on his part to anchor himself to the living world. There isn’t a way to tell with the evidence available.”
“If he returns to his world, is Harry Potter in danger?”
“Just the opposite. His mother’s magic is attuned to Voldemort on an intimate level and is no longer burdened with the constant battle against the fragment. If he got within a thousand trots of Harry, Voldemort would find the experience disastrous at best.”
“What of the other foals? Is it safe to send Clouded back?”
“I can make some crystals that use Harry’s protections as a template. They won’t be as strong, but they will make the wearer immune to any spells cast by Voldemort and, to a lesser extent, cause him pain if he gets too close. In fact, with your help, I can design a passive shield that will cover the entire school and its surroundings. It will target Voldemort directly and will be harmless to everypony else. Harry’s mother’s magic has become so uniquely specialized to counter Voldemort’s very soul that it is foal’s play to mimic and amplify.”
“Hmm, if somepony had a shield like that tuned to you, could you counter it?”
“Yes, but I’d have to know it was there first. But that couldn’t happen, anyway; I never split my soul, and there isn’t a hostile magical force that knows my essence that well. This spell would have only one specific target and is only possible because of the singular circumstances leading up to the unique spell matrix.”
“Let’s get to work then.” Shining yawned. “After I brew some coffee.”
Twilight nervously rubbed the back of her head with a forehoof. “Would you believe I finished the last bean?”
Shining sighed. His paradise was lost.
The recuperating colt opened is eyes and was greeted by the sight of cream-colored fur. With a sigh, he snuggled closer, only turning his head enough to note that he was buttressed in by mint-colored fur on the other side. For the first time he could remember he felt . . . safe? Wanted? Loved? It was similar to when he slept next to the members of his herd, but fundamentally different.
“Good morning, Harry Potter,” Bon Bon said lazily. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes ma’am,” Harry muttered happily.
“That’s ‘yes, Mom’,” Lyra teased. “We promised Lilly Potter that you were our own. Don’t doubt that for a minute.”
“Yes, Mom,” Harry said, a smile claiming his face.
“That’s better,” Bon Bon said and nuzzled Harry.
Harry did not giggle. He adamantly avowed he had never done anything of the sort.
“Before we get up, it’s time for serious parenting,” Lyra said.
“Huh?” Harry murmured.
“Right after breakfast, you and I are going to have a visit to the hospital, just to reaffirm everything is all right with you,” Lyra said.
“But Twilight’s mum and dad took me last night,” Harry complained.
“And you are going again today,” Bon Bon said. “Afterward, you are spending the day with me and Lyra in the shop. We could use the extra help, it being the holidays and all.”
“Okay, I’m happy to help. But do I really need to be seen by a doctor again?”
“Yes,” the two mares said in unison.
The little girl opened her eyes and immediately regretted it as the sunbeams offended her sensibilities. Moaning in protest, she brought her hand up to block out the intrusion only to find something flat and hard struck her head, forcing her to close her eyes again.
“Ow!” she complained.
“Astoria, you’re awake!” she heard her mother exclaim.
“Yes, mother,” she replied dutifully.
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Astoria said, feeling the bed react to her mother sitting on it.
“That is expected,” Astoria’s mother said. “Don’t attempt to change back. The doctors don’t want you to strain yourself, and they are not sure if the suppressor ring on your horn will prevent an attempt.”
“Horn?” Astoria groaned, opening her eyes once more only to close them again. “Doctors?”
“Yes.” Astoria heard her father’s voice but couldn’t focus on him just yet. “The blood curse reacted badly to your unicorn body and was rejected. You are cured, but you will be spending the next several days in bed.”
“Bed?”
“Yes, dear,” Astoria’s mother said. “You need your rest.”
A door opened. “Pardon me, I need to get through.” Astoria heard an unknown voice say. “The alert that she is awake just came.”
“Yes, nurse, do not let me intrude on your duties.” The weight of her mother left the bed.
Astoria contemplated opening her eyes again when a wave of magic washed over her.
“She is recovering nicely.” Astoria heard the nurse say. “Now, little one, go back to sleep.”
Astoria felt another wave of magic and knew no more.
A not so little girl opened her eyes and immediately regretted it as sunbeams offended her sensibilities. Moaning in protest, she brought her hand up to block out the intrusion.
“Mum!” she heard before her eyes focused.
“Lavender,” she croaked dryly. Then, fear gripped her heart. “Your father?”
“He’s sleeping in the next bed.”
“How is he?” The fear did not lessen.
“The healers say he’s doing better than he had any right to. Werewolf bites are resistant to normal magical healing but Philomena cried on him, and that was enough.”
“Werewolf?” Lavender’s mother whispered, tears forming.
“Yes, but don’t worry,” Lavender said. “Zecora can make a potion that will cure you. We just have to wait until spring for more ingredients to bloom. They have already used up all of her stock curing a lot of werewolves.”
“You weren’t hurt?” Lavender’s mother went to her next worry.
“I’m sorry,” Lavender sniffed. “I wasn’t there to protect you.”
A weak laugh followed. “Never put yourself in danger to protect me. It is my job to protect you, not the other way around.”
“I’m strong; I could have thrown a barrel at it.”
“No!” This was said, maybe a bit too forcefully. “Your life is more precious to me than my own.”
“Mum.”
“No, I am thankful that you were not present.”
“But.”
“Lavender.”
“Mum.”
“Come here. I need a hug.”
Lord Greengrass stood on a balcony gazing across forest and field at the distant town that the pony guard accompanying him indicated. He stood several steps back since the railing was so low as to be useless if he were to falter. “That is the town where Lady Belle resides?” he inquired.
“Yes, sir,” the guard answered. “If we hurry, we can catch the early train and be there in an hour or so.”
“That will not be necessary. If I can see it, that shall be enough.”
The guard looked at him questioningly as Lord Greengrass placed his hand on the guard’s withers and focused his will.
After the bang, the guard collapsed to the ground wheezing. “That was awful.”
“The first time is always the worst, and I’ve never been here before, making it even more so,” Lord Greengrass said, eyeing the ponies gawking at their unexpected arrival. “Take a minute to compose yourself.”
“Is he all right?” a mare asked, trotting up to examine the fallen guard.
“Yes,” Lord Greengrass said. “Side along apparition is unpleasant but not dangerous for one as practiced as myself. While we wait for his stomach to catch up, would you be kind enough to direct me toward the dwelling of Lady Rarity Belle? She has been kind enough to look after my daughter while we sat with my youngest in the hospital, and I must offer her my gratitude.”
“Um, sure; it’s just down the street. The Carousel Boutique. You can’t miss it.” The mare pointed out a direction with her hoof. “If you see an unattended trunk out front, steer clear of it. It’s got a nasty temper.”
“Thank you for the directions and the warning,” Lord Greengrass said before addressing his guide. “Are you sufficiently recovered?”
The guard only grunted as he found his feet.
“Then, let us proceed.”
Nymphadora groaned as she pushed her plate away from herself and towards Draco, who was sitting on the bench across from her, muggle watching.
“Turn it up!” she heard another patron demand. “He’s giving an address.”
The waitress crossed over to the telly and obliged, causing the general conversation to falter in the café. They turned their attention to the bespectacled man on the screen.
“..will mean changes and an adjustment to our way of seeing the world. Hate and mistrust cannot be allowed to take root.” The telly continued at a louder volume. “I will therefore once again emphasize that violence against our fellow countrymen shall not be tolerated and indeed shall be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. They have stayed hidden for a reason, and that reason is an affront to humanity. I shall be directing the House of Commons to consider legislation reinforcing the basic civil rights of all citizens, magical or not. I will also be requesting that those same protections be extended toward all people, regardless of their species. There will not be a repeat of the circumstances that drove our brothers into hiding.” The telly paused for effect. “We will welcome our cosmic neighbors, the ponies, with open arms. We will prove that this generation is better than those that came before it. We will go into the future with our heads held high, not as the lone bearers of sapience, but as one of many races.”
Nymphadora gasped and turned to look at the waitress who was smiling at her warmly. Her blood ran cold as realization struck. The waitress wasn’t a witch. The shield of secrecy that had protected the wizarding world for centuries had been shattered.