//------------------------------//
// Ch. 13 — News 
// Story: The Triwizard Pony 
// by tkepner 
//------------------------------//


Hit 600 Likes on Monday! Thanks!
Here’s a chapter to celebrate!
Next goal, 700 Likes for early release of the next chapter!







Ch. 13 — News




Rita Skeeter’s article appeared the next day. While it purported to be about the Triwizard Tournament, it turned out to be a highly-coloured fabrication about Harry’s life, starting with the headline, “What Happened to Harry Potter?” The almost-full-page moving image of Harry’s face made him cringe. The article, continued on pages two, six, and seven, and was accompanied by more pictures of Harry, some closely focused on his hooves, ears, and horn. And constantly repeated that he was now a unicorn horse.

The only saving grace, as far as he was concerned, was that he always appeared calm and collected, sometimes smiling and turning his head slightly. Occasionally, ears flicking and turning, he frowned slightly and looked at someone off-picture. And that whatever magical potions or spells the paper used in their photography duplication seemed to recognize and make allowances for his don’t-notice-me spell on his helmet. Oddly enough, unlike the real-life spell, the one in the paper refused even to let him see his helmet unless he concentrated real hard on not being distracted to other things in the newspaper.

The names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions, misspelled of course, had been squashed into the last line of the article, and Cedric hadn’t been mentioned at all.

Whatever publicity the Ministry had been hoping the Tournament coverage to generate for them was completely lost in the speculation of how and when Harry had been changed into a unicorn. And what had been happening to him since Halloween, 1981.

That a Gringotts heredity parchment had named him, despite his appearance, as the real Harry Potter could not be questioned. That it also declared him the adopted son, Prince Harry James Potter Sparkle, of an unknown Princess Twilight Sparkle was scandalous in the extreme! Loud were the in-article questions and denunciations as to how the Ministry could have allowed this travesty to happen to their hero and saviour — turned from a wizard into an animal!

Well, at least they weren’t calling him a monster and demanding he be incarcerated somewhere.

In addition, Rita seemed outraged that Harry was not representing Hogwarts in the tournament, that he was, instead, the Champion for the, again, unknown, Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.

After breakfast, Harry spent an hour composing a rebuttal, not that he really thought the paper would print it. But, it was worth a try. After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Harry studied the finished letter carefully. It had taken several drafts, but he was pleased with the final edition. It was clean, the lettering was precise and legible, and there were no blemishes.

After using a duplication spell, he placed the original in his new trunk. He had managed to trade the other one in and purchased this one for only a few galleons more. That his original had been so recently purchased had also helped keep the new one reasonable in price. It featured an entire compartment for books and other storage, in addition to the two compartments his previous trunk had had.

He started off towards the owlery. 

He hadn’t gone any farther than the Common Room when Luna jumped up from a chair and waved him over.

“Hello, Harry,” she said cordially. “I don’t know if you have heard, but my father publishes The Quibbler. I would like to interview you for a story in it about the Quadwizard Tournament. Would you be interested?”

He studied her for a moment, then duplicated his letter one more time. He hoofed the letter to her and said, “This should get you started. And Colin took a large number of pictures at the Wand Weighing yesterday. You might want to ask him for publishing copies in exchange for a by-line and paying him for the film he used. I’m sure that Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime would be happy to give you details about the Tournament, as well.”

Her eyes lit up as she reverently took the parchment.

“As long as you don’t reveal anything I ask you to keep secret, I don’t see why we couldn’t have other interviews, later, too,” he said. He smiled at her. “Better get started on this one, first, though,” he said over his shoulder as he started to leave for the owlery, again.

She nodded, but was already engrossed in reading his statement.


۸-_-۸


 

Below his carefully drawn stylized-graphic of Equestria’s Ying/Yang Two-Sisters flag, it said:

To Editors of the Daily Prophet,
 
The scope of the errors in your article on Saturday about myself, Prince Harry James Potter Sparkle, are breath-taking to behold. So, let me provide you with a few facts.
 
First: I am a unicorn PONY, now, not a horse. There is a difference.
 
Second: according to a Gringotts heredity parchment, I am the legitimate son of Head of House James Potter and his wife Lily Potter (née Evans). It also confirmed that I am the legally adopted son of Princess Twilight Sparkle.
 
Third: I have lived the last five years in a place called Equestria. Equestria is in a different world/universe. How I got there when I was nine, no one knows. My adoptive mum went to great lengths, and expended considerable resources, in researching that and has never uncovered either how or why it happened. It just did.
 
Fourth: An unknown person, or persons, entered my name into the Goblet of Fire as an entrant into the Triwizard Tournament. They confunded the Goblet into choosing candidates from four schools instead of three. Their apparent reasoning was that by making me the only entrant from a fake school, I would have to be chosen as the champion for that fake school. 
 
They obviously thought that when I did not show up for the First Task, that the Goblet’s magical contract would penalize me by removing my magic, and, thus, kill me. (I know from experience that it wouldn’t have, but that’s another story.) Or, they thought that the publicity generated by my being selected would force me to come out of hiding, and become vulnerable to their schemes.
 
Why would someone do this? Headmaster Dumbledore has concluded, and the other judges concur, that this unknown person, or persons, are probably followers of the dark wizard called Voldemort. He suggested that they did this in an attempt to get revenge for the “death” of their leader because they had no other way in which to reach me. 
 
Instead of merely selecting me, the Goblet brought me here to Hogwarts to compete. Not exactly coming out of hiding, but still making me visible and vulnerable to them.
 
As a result, the Headmaster, and the other judges in the tournament concur, has concluded that there is a significant risk that I am still in danger of direct, or indirect, actions on the part of Voldemort’s followers to finish what they started.
 
Fifth: Some have suggested that I should be considered a Hogwarts Champion. Considering that the Goblet of Fire chose me to represent a fourth school, for any official, either in the Ministry or Hogwarts, to ignore that decision and place me under the Hogwarts banner is to be at risk of retaliation by the Goblet for ignoring its decision. Considering that the Goblet of Fire had the magical power to reach across to another universe to bring me to Hogwarts, the extent to which the Goblet of Fire might retaliate against someone who dared ignore it is not something most wizards would wish to contemplate, much less actually experience.
 
Sixth: Regardless of the name of the unknown fake school used in the Goblet to select me, I am a proud student of Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, and will compete as such. However, I have no intention of trying to win. I am at a severe disadvantage in magical knowledge and training compared to the other Champions, being three years behind them in age and schooling. I also know almost nothing about the magic practiced here as compared to Equestria. In view of that, I will participate only enough to satisfy the minimum requirements of the Goblet’s magical contract.
 
Seventh: Speculation as to my life after my parents’ died on October 31st, 1981, Halloween, and last Halloween when I was brought here by the Goblet, is just that, speculation. Only I and my relatives know what happened during the intervening years. Anyone who claims specific knowledge about any events in that period, except, perhaps, Headmaster Dumbledore, is probably lying.
 
And finally: There are many who regard me as a hero and saviour for “killing” Voldemort. The possibility of this being true is vanishingly small. It is far more likely that my parents, a full-grown wizard and witch, in desperation and with time to prepare, created a magic trap that caught the dark wizard. Only a simpleton would believe that a toddler of fifteen months, with no understanding of either magic or the events around him, could somehow beat a dark wizard with over fifty years’ experience in wielding powerful magic. Especially if his parents had already failed to overcome that same wizard.
 
In closing, I sincerely thank you for this opportunity to set the record straight.
 
Prince Harry James Potter Sparkle
 

۸- ̬ -۸


 

The weekend seemed to fly by. Jonathan and Liza, his Gryffindor tutors, didn’t seem to mind in the least devoting many hours on both days, each, to helping him practice. He had thought them generous during the week, helping him in the evenings, but this was over the top. As Jonathan grinningly said, “That Hayscartes’ spell you showed us has made revising really easy, and that has freed up more than enough time for us to help you.” He had looked at Harry slyly. “Besides, who knows what other spells you might be able to show us . . . .” And while both tutors knew the spells taught in Hogwarts quite well, their differences in approach made it interesting.

Surprisingly, Ginny, Luna, and Hermione had all volunteered to help, as well. That had helped him advance during the day, somewhat sporadically, as they could correct and help him when they had free periods. And in the evenings, Jonathan and Liza took turns as breaks in their own studies.

“Aren’t you worried that you’ll be ostracized for working against Cedric Diggory?” Harry asked the three lower year Gryffindors. “Jonathan and Liza can say they are helping because the Headmaster asked them. You three can’t.”

“It’s only fair,” Hermione explained with a huff. “How anyone could claim we’re against Cedric just because we’re helping you learn the basics of our magic is ludicrous! It would be like taking away Cedric’s wand and sending him into the tournament without it. He’d be completely helpless with the magic he knew being almost useless! And, unlike Cedric, you didn’t ask to do this.” Her eyes had narrowed and she stared off at one of the walls in their practice room. “It’s not as if they’ve been all that friendly to me anyway,” she muttered darkly.

It was only because of his exceptional pony hearing that he had heard her murmur “She’s a nightmare. Bossy know-it-all. Indeed.” She had a flinty look in her eyes.

Ah, yeah, a little bitter anger there, he could tell.

Ginny looked at her friend worriedly. Luna walked over to where Hermione had been blindly staring and had studied the wall carefully. Harry had wondered, abstractly, if she could see anything different, there.

Then she had turned back to him. “And it’s a wonderful opportunity to revise and make sure we remember all the material!” She had grinned. “And I’m sure Jonathan and Liza will have insights based on what they’ve learned since they were in those classes.” Plus, being able to switch off working with Harry meant they had plenty of time to do their own assignments and practicing.

In view of the upcoming tournament task, they had agreed that that they should concentrate only on how to cast the spells, and vary their potency. Theory and understanding could come later. 

He wouldn’t be able to keep them all sorted, but he would at least have the basics under control and not unintentionally over- or under-power a spell.

Thus, with their constant tutoring, and taking breaks only for meals, he had managed to make it through the second year texts for charms, transfigurations, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Naturally, sometimes a Charms spell would lead to a DADA spell or transfigurations. Sometimes the opposite occurred. There was a reason, after all, that the classes taught things in the order that they did.

He was so tired at the end of each day he could hardly put one hoof in front of the other as he went upstairs after practicing in the evenings. He was usually out cold by the time the others made their way out of the Common Room.

Before he knew it, it was after breakfast on Monday and everyone else was leaving for classes, while he had free time until lunch and Arithmancy.

Now that he wasn’t nearly comatose from exhaustion or concentrating on the spells, he had time to reflect about the weekend. He really had made a lot of progress. While he didn’t remember everything perfectly, he had a good handle on what he thought were the most important spells. He could save revising the lesser spells for later. 

To celebrate his progress over the weekend, he decided, he would thank his tutors for all their time with a spell they didn’t know. And after seeing how often they had had to use the reparo and finite charms after each tutoring session, he knew the perfect one to teach them. The Fail-Safe spell for returning things back to normal, a combination of the finite and the reparo — an especially useful spell, he had learned, for whenever Discord happened to be around.

He spent the hours before lunch working on the third-year spells in DADA. Unlike the previous teachers of the class, Professor Lupin actually seemed to have been competent. Or, at least, so it appeared, based on Hermione’s rather detailed notes. He had been quite relieved that the Third Year DADA text had been focused almost exclusively on the different dangerous creatures in this world, and what would or wouldn’t work in dealing with them! As a result, there were only maybe a dozen spells for all that year. Meaning, that he could practice the spells he had learned in the morning that evening with the others since they had been in classes. And that meant he could start on Fourth Year spells. Given how close to the start of the school year it was, there weren’t that many spells to cover. He would be caught up with Hermione in class later in the week!

Thus, he spent the morning practicing the third year spells, finishing just before lunch and giving himself time for a quick scan through the fourth year DADA.

Hermione’s notes, when he read them early last week, had been quite startling. He never would have expected Professor Moody to introduce the three so-called Unforgiveable Curses on the very first day of class. Especially as they weren’t mentioned except as side-notes in the textbook.

Hidden in her notes was the implication that they were all three extremely sensitive to how much magical power you put into them. The professor’s comment, that Avada Kedavra was a curse that needed powerful magic behind it had been enlightening. That the entire class could cast it at him and he thought he wouldn’t get even a nosebleed had been more so. If your power was below a certain level, it would fail, but when you crossed that line, whatever it was, it was instantly fatal to the target. 

Did that mean even an average wizard could kill a vastly more powerful wizard, regardless of their power differences? And that it could go through a shield no matter how powerful the one casting it?

No wonder it was considered an unforgiveable — the powerful wizards were terrified that even an average wizard could best them in a duel if they didn’t dodge fast enough! It made a colt or filly as dangerous as a fully trained and powerful Guard unicorn.

Neither her notes nor the textbooks said it, but based on their descriptions and what little was discussed on the mathematics of casting, each of the three’s casting power was almost on an exponential scale. Small amounts of results, despite massively increasing the power, until suddenly results shot almost straight up. 

The imperius was by far the least harmful in intent, but most dreadful in its insidious implications. Like the Mad King Sombra and his helmets, you could not countermand your orders — only weep later at what you had done. On the other hoof, it had a plateau. You could train yourself to overcome, or even totally resist, that spell. All it took was determination and practice. And his mum would tell you, he had determination in spades.

He would learn that defence!

Fortunately, as he had read from her notes, he could ask Professor Moody for help achieving that.

Next was the cruciatus, the pain curse. Thank Celestia, no one in Equestria had created a spell like it! It could not be overcome, was the general consensus, if cast by someone of the required skill. It operated by causing every nerve in the body to signal injury, overwhelming the victim’s brain with paralyzing levels of phantom pain. Long enough exposure could cause permanent neurological damage, and even kill the victim.

Except, Harry knew, you can turn off the pain receptors in the brain with a simple spell.* The doctors in Equestria used it when they had to operate on a pony. The Guards were taught it as well, for it was better to fight on when grievously wounded then let the pain of your injuries impair your abilities and cause your or your companions’ deaths.

Did the wizards not know this? Didn’t they have an equivalent spell? If he could remember it, and translate it to the proper runes, he could permanently ink it somewhere on his body with a trigger rune-set for that spell. If someone were to cast the cruciatus, the runes would activate when it hit him, and it would look as if they had miscast spell when he didn’t react at all. And because you actively had to power the spell, the moment their attention broke, the spell stopped. Then the runes could slowly subside, and no one would be the wiser.

That was a remote possibility, though. He had only seen the spell once, in one of the books his mum had left out while researching something. He doubted he’d be able to remember it in full. But he’d still try, though. He might get lucky.

The last curse, avada kedavra, was like the other two, harmless, and then, POW! Unlike the pain curse, however, once you got to the right level, you could take out opponents who were much more powerful than yourself.

The imperius and cruciatus were power-level dependent. That is, if the person you were casting against was substantially stronger than you, neither would work!

But not the Killing Curse. Once you reached that power level, it was just as deadly to a person as it was to a mouse.

Fortunately, both the pain and killing curse required that you actively hate the target. Dislike wouldn’t do it. He sorta doubted there were many ponies in Equestria who could muster the sort of feeling those two required.

The other common feature of the three was that they merely had to touch you. Anywhere. A finger, an ear, anything that was a part of your body. Your clothing or armour would do nothing to protect you from them. 

Of the three, only the imperius and cruciatus could be blocked by an adequate shield. The avada kedavra simply powered its way through magical shields, no matter how powerful. The same was true for physical shields, too, unless the item doing the shielding was extraordinarily strong.

The best strategy was simply to not be there when that spell arrived after being cast. The next best solution was to put something solid, like a steel plate, thick brick, marble, of even one of your enemies’ bodies between you and it. Oddly enough, for all three, if they missed their target there was an explosion! But if they hit a soft-body, the curse operated without creating any damage. Which was really weird.

Harry had the odd thought, after reading Hermione’s notes, that if the killing curse killed the spider, would summoning spiders from the area around you also work as protection and without property damage? Spiders, he knew, were almost everywhere.

Well, no matter. There was no way for him to practice those curses, not that he intended to.

After lunch and Arithmancy, Hermione helped him practice the spells he had tried that morning. Ginny and Luna showed up as well. Their DADA class had just let out, and they were more than happy to help out with the spells with him and Hermione. Nothing like getting a head start on the competition!

That took until dinner. Then Jonathan and Liza took over. It only took an hour to cover the third year spells, and then they started on the fourth year spells.

On Tuesday, he started third year charms, and Wednesday was Transfigurations. He planned to alternate those two until he was caught up on them, as well. Which he could easily do on this weekend without working himself into exhaustion, again.

Wednesday, at breakfast, the owl parliament arrived and an owl dropped a box to Luna. She squealed happily, dropped it on the floor behind Harry, and tapped it with her wand. It immediately grew to a much larger size. Harry saw, when she opened it, that it was packed with issues of TheQuibbler with a giant headline across two lines, “Triwizard Tournament becomes Quadwizard!” Underneath it were two smaller headlines, “Harry Potter Returns” and “Goblet of Fire Champions!” She gleefully handed one to him.

Unlike the Daily Prophet, The Quibbler’s approach was much more like a newspaper from Equestria, Harry was relieved to see. Under the Champions’ article headline was a line of photographs featuring the champions, with nice write-ups of each photograph. While Harry did get much more print than the others because of the article about how he had abruptly appeared in the Great Hall and what had happened after that, it was far more focused on the Tournament than the Daily Prophet. Actually, that wasn’t been that high a bar to overcome.

There were also at least a score of casual photographs of the four champions in various settings as the two articles continued on other pages, and articles on each school appeared. There was even one article about Krum’s Quidditch career. The conveyances used by the other two schools were also covered. And numerous quotes from students in all three schools, as well as the schools’ heads, were scattered throughout. 

Easily, half of the entire newspaper was about the events at Hogwarts. And while the newspaper wasn’t as thick as the Daily Prophet, it still had far more facts and only a tiny bit of speculation. And the speculation articles were easy to spot.

Colin’s byline was on every photograph, and he beamed like a new proud and giddy parent as he perused his copy and showed it to his friends. Colin, it seemed, had a few business smarts of his own, as except for the pictures from the wand weighing ceremony, all the other champions’ photographs included several other students as well, with none repeated.

Interestingly, Luna Lovegood had the byline as the reporter on several of the articles.

Students quickly lined up to buy their own copies, especially as word spread about those students who appeared in any of the photos with the champions! It didn’t take Luna long to sell out, and she excitedly told the disappointed latecomers that she would have more that evening. All she had to do was make a floo call!

Oddly enough, while the taciturn Krum was usually seated at the Slytherin table, Colin had captured very few Slytherin students in the photographs with him. And none included Draco Malfoy or any of his friends. From the photographs, one might think that there were only three Houses at Hogwarts, and not four.

The Slytherin habit of maligning and avoiding association with muggle-borns had definitely not worked in their favour this time.

Harry had to laugh. Blueblood had him told it never hurts to be courteous to your enemies. Open hostility rarely played well in the press. And there were far more opportunities to turn things to your advantage with courtesy than rudeness. And here was a clear example. Just from looking casually through The Quibbler, the lack of Slytherin photos and quotes made it seem as if the Slytherins were churlishly shunning the world-famous Quidditch star. And anything else to do with the Tournament.

All because they continuously picked on Colin, the muggle-born photographer, and the unusual “loony” Luna.

Even as Luna sold out her father’s newspaper — she had suddenly become extremely business-like and no-nonsense — Harry noticed that two owls delivered a newspaper, each, to Headmistress Maxime and High Master Karkaroff. And that whatever the source, probably important newspapers from their own countries, both appeared quite pleased at the articles they were reading over their breakfasts.

He had to wonder, though, just when the third-year had managed to do all that writing? Or had her father done the writing from her notes? Still, that was an awful lot of writing to do in such a short time, especially as she had spent most of the weekend with him, practicing spells.

Friday, Hermione told him that Saturday was a Hogsmeade day, when third year and above students could visit the village. “Come on, Harry,” she said as they entered the Common Room after finishing the practices for the night. “It will do you good to get away from the castle for a bit.”

Both Ginny and Luna, who were behind them, readily agreed.

Considering that the first task was only four days away, he knew that he should probably take a break. Spike had told him all about Twilight’s frantic all-night studying before a test, and then taking the test bleary-eyed and exhausted. “If you’ve been studying all along, all you’ll need are refreshers the day before and you should be just fine,” he had told Harry. Which had worked for him very well at Celestia’s School in Canterlot. He had seen other ponies embark on binge-studying without a break, and not get as much of a boost out of it as they had hoped.

He would use Sunday to complete the studying for third year Charms and Transfigurations. And relax and look around Hogsmeade on Saturday and the castle on Monday.

It was a nice leisurely walk down the road to Hogsmeade, although at one point Harry had heard noises in the forest to the side of the castle.

Seeing where he was looking, Herione said, “Oh, the Ministry is building something for the first task over there.”

He nodded and turned back to the road. 

“It’s the only all-wizarding village in Britain. Hogwarts: A History says that it was founded by the wizard Hengist of Woodcroft as he was fleeing persecution by Muggles. Students have been allowed to go there almost since it was established, but in 1714 they decided only third-years and above would be allowed. It’s got all sorts of shops in it, you know. My favourite is Tomes and Scrolls, the local bookshop, of course. Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop has all types of quills and parchment should you run out. There’s Dogweed and Deathcap, an herbology shop if your kit’s running low.  There’s Ceridwen’s Cauldrons, which sells cauldrons if you ever melt yours like Neville sometimes does, he gives them quite a bit of business, I hear. The Three Broomsticks Inn is wonderful for a meal or if you’re thirsty. And a lot of the witches like Gladrags Wizardwear, a clothing shop. They sell socks that scream when they get too smelly.”

Harry listened as she prattled on about what he would find once they arrived. Ginny, behind them, was hiding giggles behind her hands. Luna was just walking dreamily along beside her.

“Oh,” she pointed at a building set some distance from the village, and almost as far from the road they were following as the village, at the moment. “That’s the Shrieking Shack! It’s supposed to be the most haunted place in England.”

He looked at her, puzzled. 

“Yeah,” she said, “I know, there are more ghosts at Hogwarts. But it’s said that there used to be the most horrible and terrifying noises coming from that shack. Sounds that could be easily heard in town. Someone told me it was haunted by a werewolf ghost who’s is looking for another victim to claim. Or else hunting for the one who bit him.”

Harry slowly nodded and made a mental note never to go there. And never tell the fillies about it either. They’d start making plans for a visit almost immediately. “Cutie Mark Crusaders Ghost Busters! YAY!” Never mind that they all had cutie marks already.

Soon enough he was gorging himself on large cream-filled chocolates as they exited Honeydukes. He had a big bag of other candies shrunken in his pocket.

He looked down the street to see Rita Skeeter and her photographer friend leave the Three Broomsticks pub. For a moment, he considered avoiding them by dodging back into the shop behind them, but then decided not to do that.

They almost didn’t notice him.


۸-_-۸