“The next thing I remembered was waking up in a hospital run by ponies,” Harry concluded, just as calm as when he had started. He might have been talking about the weather, from his attitude. He had recited the story enough times.
“And I was a pony.” He spread his forehooves, “like this.”
The looks the Headmaster was receiving from Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick were just a bit short of blistering. From Professors McGonagall’s expression, a near duplicate of what he had seen on his uncle just before a beating, Harry knew that there would be a very loud conversation after he left. And Flitwick would be backing her up, based on his expression. Why they should be upset, he didn’t understand. His treatment at the Dursleys had nothing to do with them, not even indirectly.
The Headmaster had explained last night that the Dursleys, being his only relatives, had been the only choice for where he should go.
It was interesting to note the differences, however, between how ponies reacted when he told the story and how these wizards and witches reacted. The ponies always hugged him, many with tears in their eyes, and tried to console him. These people just sat there, like lumps on a log. Stupid wizards.
Professor Snape merely looked a bit disturbed. Professor Moody looked thoughtful, and nodded at Harry when he saw him looking at him. The Headmaster was stone-face, although he stroked his beard as he stared at Harry.
Harry chuckled. “Apparently, I was a bit of a celebrity in Ponyville. I was the mysterious colt found at the edge of the dangerous Everfree Forest.” He looked at them and smiled genially. “It has much the same reputation that your Forbidden Forest has, except much deadlier.”
Professor Snape gave him a look of clear disbelief and derision.
Harry stared at him. “I know for a fact it houses hydras, cockatrices, timber-wolves, cragadiles, and manticores. And at least one Ursa Minor. Dragons and sea serpents are also known to visit it from time to time. Twice, that I know of, Ponyville has been invaded by plants or monsters from the forest.” He looked at the Headmaster, curious. “Can you say the same for your Forbidden Forest?” He carefully did not mention that the Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest would trump all the creatures in the Everfree, in most ponies’ minds. And prompt a permanent, and large, Guard post just outside it.
Dumbledore slowly shook his head.
“I was asleep for most of my time in the hospital. They tell me that the first time I woke up, I panicked and it was all they could do to keep me in the room to heal. So they used a sleeping spell on me until I was well enough.” He sighed.
“By that time, my mum . . . ,” He paused and frowned. “Well, okay, she wasn’t my mum at the time. I mean by that time Princess Sparkle, except she wasn’t a princess at the time, either, had visited me and cast a translation spell, so that when I woke the next time, I could understand what everypony was saying.”
He shrugged. “There really isn’t much more to tell. At first, I stayed with my mum until they understood that I really was from another world and not making up stories. By then she had decided that it would be better if I stayed with her to learn how to be a unicorn and to learn magic. An orphanage would have been overwhelmed with my ‘special’ needs, she said.” He looked out the window to the Forest. “I mean, I was still having trouble walking. Stairs,” he said with a shudder, “were my bane for years.” And why he had struggled so hard to learn to teleport, but he didn’t tell them that. It might be his ace-in-the-hole. “And I would forget things, too.” He looked away for a moment. “Still can’t remember everything from before Equestria.” He looked back at them.
“My mum thinks I fell through an ancient portal, but she was unable to locate it. She thinks it was either a transient portal or intermittent.” He shrugged and looked at the Headmaster. “We have another portal in our castle that leads to a different human world.”
His audience all sat up at that revelation.
“But it only opens every thirty moons, about two hundred and seventy days, for three days, and was stored in the capital, in a vault. She thinks that maybe the one I fell through was the same, that it was Harmony magic that led me to it during the brief time it was open. But we don’t know its period. It might be moons, years, decades, or even centuries.” He sighed. “With no other information, despite diligent searching by the Guard and scholars, the portal remains impossible to find.”
“I went to school, learned about Equestria, and learned magic. A bit later, she adopted me. Then I moved to Canterlot to go to Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. And now,” he concluded, spreading his forelegs widely, “here I am.”
“How interesting,” Dumbledore said. He leaned back in his chair. “Very interesting, indeed,” repeated the Headmaster. “You shall have to tell us more about Equestria later.” His eyes twinkled as he smiled at Harry. “Well, I think I speak for all of us when I say we are happy to see that you are finally back home.”
Professor Snape did not look happy at all. He sat with a stoic blank expression while the rest nodded or murmured assent.
Harry tilted his head questioningly, “Home? This isn’t my home, Headmaster.”
۸- ̰ -۸
Spike pushed the meal cart into the library. Normally, food and drink were forbidden, but he knew, as did the librarians, that the odds of getting Twilight to take a break and go to the cafeteria to do something as unimportant as eating were virtually zero. As it was, the three mares were surrounded by towers of books.
Twilight had been diving into a new book almost every half hour, searching thoroughly for any tidbit that might help her. Trixie and Starlight Glimmer were almost as dedicated. At least all the ponies had taken a morning nap after the all-nighter.
«Any luck?» he asked hopefully as he steered the cart towards the enormous pile of discarded books.
«The Great and Powerful Trixie must admit it has been fruitless, so far,» came the despondent reply from the blue mare with her muzzle in a book half as big as she was. The other mare simply sighed as she looked up.
The two mares cleared a spot beside themselves for the plates he hefted over to them. They both started munching on an apple as they continued to skim the books and refer to the set of seven blackboards — covered with diagrams and equations — arranged beside the table. He poured tea and apple juices for them.
Starlight looked over at the empty spot. «She should be resurfacing in a moment,» she said. «And thank you for the food.» She got up and stretched.
«Anything I can do to help!» he said. «The portal to Sunset Shimmer’s world is going into a lab down in the Crystal Caverns as soon as it gets here from Ponyville. Princess Celestia told me she’ll write to her in the communications book. It’ll arrive with the mirror. She’ll ask Sunset and her friends if they can come through and maybe help. They might have a perspective from their technological world that might make a difference.» He ducked his head slightly. «You know, Harry’s home being technological, non-magical, and all that.»
Starlight sighed, nodded, and returned to her desk and book.
He sighed and flopped face-down on a pile of pillows. «Both Princesses,» his voice was muffled by the pillows, «are going through their private libraries searching for anything that pertains to portals.» He was silent a moment. «Several scholars are searching through the treasure vaults for anything that might have been overlooked in previous centuries. They’re even checking the old Castle of Two Sisters in case something was missed in the last ten times we searched it for something important.»
He rolled over on his back. «I hope Harry is alright,» he said softly. «Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom are going spare. Sweetie Belle has blown up Rarity’s kitchen twice already — and she was still in her room. And Applejack told me Big Mac saw Apple Bloom mistakenly bucking a fence post instead of an apple tree. She even had baskets set out around it.» He sighed. «It’s the not-being-able-to-do-anything that gets to you, ya know?»
He chuckled sadly. «Even Prince Blueblood is looking out of sorts, although with him it’s hard to tell. He always looks out of sorts about something! Just, right now, it’s more than usual. He accused Harry of going missing on purpose to avoid his diplomacy lesson today.»
He walked over to the boards. One was a summary of the magical conditions in the Ponyville Plaza that Princess Celestia had outlined — it was all diagrams and equations and numbers. Another had a depressingly short set of descriptions on how the magic that had apparently snatched Harry was different from the magic they knew. New details were added as they discovered something relevant in the books. He hadn’t a hope of understanding anything written on those two boards. In fact, he wasn’t sure all three mares understood what was written.
A third board listed everything they knew Harry had had when he had arrived, and where it had gone to since then. Most ended with, «Discarded, disposition unknown.» A team of ponies was hunting them down now.
The remaining three were equations and diagrams on Portals, both finding them and creating them. What those didn’t have was a way to steer a portal opening to a specific location, either a world or a place in that world. Only one rune specified location, and why it meant ground level was pretty obvious.
«Oh, Princess Luna told me to tell you that they are bringing in a few ponies who are geniuses in magical mathematics. Maybe they can get a handle on this,» he said turning from the boards.
He sighed. «I’ll get more tea.» He looked over at the table’s empty spot and frowned. «And a few more pillows and blankets.»
۸-ꞈ-۸
“My home, dear Sir, is Equestria,” Harry said politely to Dumbledore. “That is where my family is, that is where I belong. I have no doubt that my mum is turning over every stone, looking behind every tree . . . ,” he smirked, “reading every book, in an effort to find me.” Then he smiled. “And when she does get here, she will bend every effort to breaking your Goblet’s spell. It shouldn’t take her more than a few days.”
Professor Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in surprise, the others leaned forward, frowning at his declaration.
“Not your home?” cried Professor McGonagall in dismay. “How could this not be your home?” she continued, clearly upset. “You’re a wizard,” she stated firmly. “This is where you were born! Your parents were born here! You’re a hero, here! You belong here!”
Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head —as if he cared about such things. “Belong here?” Harry said incredulously. “How ever did you come that conclusion?” He sighed.
“According to my aunt and uncle, my parents were drunken wastrels, hoodlums of the worst sort, who never worked a day in their lives, living off the charity of friends, and fighting constantly against a rival gang. They died in a car crash, which is why I have this scar,” He waved a hoof at his forehead. “And my aunt and uncle had to take care of me, stretching their tiny budget almost to the breaking point.”
He huffed angrily.
“My aunt and uncle resented my very presence, and made no effort to hide their feelings. They treated me as if I, a child, were somehow at fault for all of my parents’ failings and my living with them.”
He shook his head angrily. “It took years of counselling before I understood that I wasn’t to blame. That to blame a child for the failings of the parents is the mark of a weak mind, a failing of intellect, a fault in the character of the perpetrator. Only the most despicable and petty excuse of a pony would take out their dislike for a parent on the child,” he said heatedly. “Especially if the parent is dead.”
For some reason, Professor Snape looked as if he had been insulted while Professor Moody was amused, as was Professor Flitwick. Professor McGonagall had an expression of astonishment. The Headmaster was looking at Snape, with his eyes twinkling and a faint smile.
“All of which are failings my childish aunt and uncle fell into. They made me live as if I were in tartarus. I lived in a cupboard under the stairs, my meals were the scraps of food leftover from their meals, I was treated like a slave — forced to do all the cleaning, laundry, cooking, and gardening — and I was beaten for things I never understood. If I did anything better than my cousin, in school or out, except chores, I got beaten.” He stared at them, then took a deep breath to regain his control, which was beginning to fray. “If that is the way you treat someone important who belongs here, I’d hate to see how you treat an insignificant stranger!” He sighed.
“My memories of here are nothing but of misery and despair.”
“My mum, on the other hoof, treats me with respect and kindness. She cares about what I do and who I am. She was the first pony, or person, to hug me!” he stated firmly. “I have friends in Equestria. And I have three fiancées who are probably going barmy worried about me. I have a place in Equestria where I am not only welcome, but wanted.” He looked at the Headmaster incredulously. “Why on Earth would I want to stay here and not return home to Equestria?”
He noticed Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick were looking a little sick at his litany of complaints. The Headmaster’s eyes were no longer twinkling. Both Professors Snape and Moody were impassive.
“As for being a hero? I think not. Only a simpleton would believe that a toddler of fifteen months could somehow beat a Dark Wizard with decades’ experience in wielding magic. It is far more likely that my parents used the months they were in hiding to devise a trap for the wizard that was started the moment he came in the door. I think my mother’s last act was finishing that spell in the hopes it would protect us.” He looked at all five of them. “Which do you find more likely? That two talented and skilled adults, in desperation and with time to prepare, created a magic trap that caught the dark wizard by surprise? Or that a toddler with no understanding of either magic or the events around him, somehow managed to overcome that same wizard after his had parents failed?”
Silence greeted his question. Even Professor Moody was looking a bit uncertain and taken aback.
The Headmaster stared at him, unblinking, clearly thinking over everything he had said. Finally, the wizard sighed. “Nothing can be done about the past,” he said sadly. “We will attempt to make you feel at home, here.” He paused and stroked his beard.
Harry had to raise his eyebrows in disbelief. “I doubt you’ll succeed. All three schools look on me as an interloper in the Tournament. Do you really think any students in Hogwarts will choose befriending me, the competitor to the Hogwarts contender, and alienate themselves from their friends?” He snorted derisively, “I think not.”
Ponies would easily do it. They seemed to have a deep well of friendship that they drew from. Perhaps it was because they were a prey species at heart and sought cooperation and close companionship. Their very survival in ancient times had depended on accepting each other and working together. The humans, however, were predators, and constantly strove against each other.
Dumbledore sadly stared at him. “I believe you will find you are wrong. You will find the students of Hogwarts to be fair and selfless,” the Headmaster said as he leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands once more.
Harry, and the professors, looked at the Headmaster as if he were daft.
After a few moments of thinking, he continued, “Now, then, do you really think your . . . mother . . . will find you?”
Harry could see the man was genuinely curious as to why Harry was so sure of her success.
Harry smiled, then chuckled. “She is a genius at magic. If anyone can do it, she can. After all, a few years back when Star . . . when someone tried to change the present by changing the past ten years before that, she and Spike went through a dozen horrifying timelines before finally restoring the correct future. She bested Mad King Sombra, fought Tirek to a standstill, prevented Queen Chrysalis from taking over Canterlot, and defeated many other villains.”
Professor Snape stared at him. “Impossible,” he snapped. The others uncertainly looked back and forth between them.
Harry shrugged. “Believe what you will,” he replied calmly.
“Plus, she has some experience with portals to alternate universes. It is merely a matter of her tracking me down through all the possibilities. I’m sure my descriptions of United Kingdom, and Number Four Privet Drive in particular, will help narrow things down considerably.”
How odd that Headmaster Dumbledore looked faintly worried. “It would take a great deal of magical power to do that,” he said. “The Goblet of Fire has had centuries to accumulate the magic it expended in bringing you here.”
Harry smiled. “Oh, she has power aplenty. When she fought Tirek, she created a new pass through the Smokey Mountains and made a lake half-a-mile in diameter. The fight was visible from most of the country.” He shook his head and smirked, “The Guard named the lake, Twilight’s Temper, and the new passage through the mountain, Twilight’s Strike.” He glanced at the Headmaster. “Tirek is in prison in Tartarus.”
Professor Snape scowled. “An exaggeration, no doubt. No one could have that much magical power,” he said dismissively.
Harry again shrugged. “I know what I saw, and I have seen the lake. And every pegasus in Equestria has seen the pass,” he said, just as dismissively. “Finding me may take her time, but she will never give up. If nothing else works, she will ask Discord, the God of Chaos for help.”
“God of Chaos?” Snape said incredulously. Professor Flitwick looked especially interested.
Harry sighed. “He’s . . . a bit hit or miss,” he said reluctantly. Harry chewed his lower lip. “He’s nice enough, but erratic. He exists for chaos. Calling for his help, he’s just as likely to laugh and eat popcorn, while watching ponies trot in circles and confusion, as he is to do anything constructive. His idea of helping might be an obscure riddle.” Harry looked at the Headmaster darkly. “He would enjoy the chaos that my entry to this ridiculous tournament has created.”
Professor Snape rolled his eyes. “A childish figment of your imagination,” he declared dryly. “Created to salve your hurt feeling when you mother fails to show up. When nothing happens, you can just claim he didn’t want to help.”
Harry was tempted to try, right now. But, as he had said, it was just as likely that Discord would simply watch things play out. Or, worse, he would want to add to the chaos — his promise to Fluttershy didn’t extend to these humans. And as long as Harry was safe? He would have no incentive to help — quite the opposite, in fact. He’d feel free to meddle as much as he liked.
Harry shrugged. “What you believe or not is irrelevant. You will see the truth when my mum shows up.” He smiled slightly. “And she won’t be amused.”
He looked at the table and noticed that it now had a full tea set in place. He lifted the cup and took a sip. No sugar, but at least it was warm and soothing. He had been talking a lot. He contemplated reflections in the tea cup. Just how long would it take her?
Not that that mattered given his being stuck in the Tournament for the next eight months. Unless she could somehow unravel its magic. But artefacts like that rarely were so easy to circumvent. She might understand it in a matter of days, but negating its magical contracts might not be possible. Those things were decidedly difficult — Celestia send all lawyers to tartarus.
Professor Moody, after staring at him for some time, gruffly said, “Professor McGonagall says you can hold a wand in your hoof. Can you show me?”
Harry shrugged and used his hoof to pull out the wand. He held it up and slowly waved it.
Professor Flitwick got off his chair and came over to Harry, inspecting his hoof-held wand closely. “Marvellous!” he said, “Can you cast with it?”
The others were watching intently. Professor Moody’s artificial eye had stopped moving randomly and had locked onto the wand, instead. Harry wondered if he could see the magic fields like Harry could when he concentrated.
“I don’t know, professor, I haven’t tried.”
“Try casting lumos with it,” the diminutive professor urged. “Push your magic into the wand, and say lumos while wanting the end of the wand to light up.”
Harry shrugged. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, he discovered. His first “lumos” made the tip of his horn light up, instead. “Huh,” he muttered, after looking at his horn cross-eyed for a moment. “It’s not the same lighting spell I normally use.”
Except for Flitwick urging him on, the others watched in silence.
The second time, he had to consciously direct his magic to his hoof. Not a spell to his hoof, but actual, raw magic. Both the tips of the wand and his horn lit up. The third time, only the wand lit up.
“Excellent,” said the Professor, excitedly. He grinned at both the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. “Can you cast different spells through your horn and the wand?” he said excitedly.
Harry lifted his tea cup for a sip while lighting his wand. He only spilled a bit of the tea, just a few drops as the cup shook unsteadily in his magic. It was kind of odd, with two flows of magic, and both were a bit unsteady. But not any more complicated than Rarity using her magic to manipulate fabric, needles, and thread all at the same time. He couldn’t help but wonder if he could do the same thing with two wands and his horn.
The Headmaster nodded amiably, eyes twinkling. “We shall have to assign you some tutors, to help you adapt to wanded magic,” he said to Harry. “Several from your own age group, I would say. Then a few from upper years as you begin to catch up.”
Professor Snape merely scowled while the others nodded their agreement.
Harry looked at them curiously. Were they really that naïve? He remembered his time in Primary. People would follow Dudley’s lead in picking on Harry, either to impress the large boy, or to escape such treatment themselves. People would pretend to be his friend so they could get on Dudley’s good side by betraying Harry to him later.
If the Hogwarts’ champion was anything close to popular and well-liked, or, like Dudley, universally feared, why should these wizards and witches act any differently?
They weren’t ponies, after all. Ponies never did that. Well, at least most ponies he had met.
“And why should they help someone who competes against their Hogwarts champion?” Harry said mildly. “If they help me and I beat your contestant, won’t their friends be angry at them? Might they not seek to aid their contestant by misleading me? Setting me up to fail?”
Professor Moody smiled at him approvingly. “The boy’s got a point, Albus. Being friends is one thing, but actively helping him against their own? Anyone who helps him is going to get grief from his housemates. There’s no reason to help the boy, for them.”
The Headmaster shook his head. “If we ask some students to help in the interests of fair play, I’m sure they will give him their full support.”
“Perhaps we could offer extra-credit points to those who help?” suggested Professor McGonagall. “Or give them the position of Interns?”
Dumbledore nodded. “If we don’t receive any volunteers, I believe we may try that approach. But I hardly think it will be necessary.”
Harry noticed that Professor Moody was just as sceptical as he was.
The Headmaster looked over to Harry. “It is getting late. Thank you for your time, Mr. Sparkle.”
He nodded, hopped off the chair, and left the room. At the bottom of the stairs, he looked around and sighed. Sure — they would teach him. Just as the professors sent him back to his dorm knowing he was unfamiliar with the castle and likely to get lost.
He walked to a nearby portrait. The stern-looking wizard, holding a cane, didn’t move until Harry spoke. “Can you tell me the way to Gryffindor Tower? I’m new here, you see,” he said apologetically, feeling like an idiot for talking to a painting.
The wizard looked at him and startled, almost falling down. “Merlin’s tears! A talking horse!”
Harry scowled. “No, sir, I’m a pony, a unicorn to be exact.”
The wizard in red scowled right back at him. He sniffed disdainfully. “Animals in Hogwarts, what has the castle come to!” he said contemptuously. He shook his head sadly. “Down the hall,” he said stiffly. “Turn right. When you reach the Grand Staircase, it’s on the seventh floor.” He suddenly reverted to only looking like a portrait.
Harry sighed and shook his head as he started for the staircases. Obviously, the portrait was of a bigot — but what else should he expect from a wand-waving pure-blood wizard? Well, at least he didn’t scream and faint like one of the Flower sister’s would have done. Nor had he run away and hidden in fear like most of Ponyville had when Zecora first arrived in town.
Harry wasn’t sure which of those reactions was worse. Probably the bigotry. Ponies, at least, had learned to accept strange things in Ponyville. Even the Flower sisters had stopped fainting whenever Zecora accidently surprised them from behind.
He found the staircases easily enough. He didn’t even have to wait for them to align with him like he usually did. Right in front of him was a staircase that went from this floor to the seventh!
Unfortunately, when he was almost there, the staircase shifted, almost knocking him down. It finally stopped moving — on the sixth floor. He sighed and looked around. None of the staircases went to the seventh floor, unless he went to the second floor. And, naturally, the staircase he was now on only went down to the third floor. And there wasn’t a staircase that went from the third to the second, he’d have to go to the fourth, first. And continuing to the seventh from the sixth was just as convoluted.
He was tempted to try to teleport, he really was. But he was pretty sure he was too tired to pull it off. And one of the portraits adorning the walls around the Central Stairwell probably would tattle on him and reveal his secret, he was sure.
He exited the stairs on the sixth floor and approached another portrait. This one was of distinguished man with a short, trimmed moustache and beard. He was seated on a chair, slightly turned and with his hands folded on a small table at his side. A brass plate on the frame said: Professor Vindictus Viridian.
“Excuse me, sir,” Harry said politely, “But what is the easiest way to get to the seventh floor? The Central Stairs do not appear to be cooperating.”
The wizard looked down at him and sighed. “I’ve heard about you,” he said disapprovingly. “You used to be a boy,” he stated reproachfully.
Harry just stared at him.
Vindictus pursed his lips, then pointed. “At the end of that corridor is a stairs that goes up one floor.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said flatly. As he walked away, he hoped, probably vainly, he realized, that the rest of the wizarding world wouldn’t be so judgmental as the last two portraits. He started around the stairwell towards the indicated corridor.
He had finally reached the stairs at the end of the corridor and was about to start up when he heard a sniffle.
He stopped and stood silent. The faint sound of cloth rustling reached him. It came from under the stairs. A person would never have noticed.
He walked into the open space beside the stairs and found that the space under the stairs wasn’t enclosed as one might expect. Tucked into the corner near the bottom of the stairs, where she couldn’t easily be seen, was a girl with dirty-blonde hair and protuberant silvery eyes that stared at him disturbingly in the dimly-lit area. “Are you alright?” he asked as he lit his horn. Her posture, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, was reminiscent of when he was hiding from Dudley’s gang. He noticed her bare toes sticking out from under her robes.
“You are remarkably free of nargles,” she said dreamily, looking slightly over his head.
He resisted the urge to look up. “Am I?”
“The wrackspurts seem to like you, though,” she added twisting and turning her head a bit to look at the area around his head.
“They do?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need help?”
“No,” she said quietly. “I was looking for my shoes and decided to take a rest.”
He blinked. Yes. She was being bullied. “My name is Harry Sparkle. What is your name?” he asked softly.
She looked up at him quizzically, as if surprised he would bother to ask. “Luna Lovegood,” she finally said.
۸-_-۸