//------------------------------// // 3. Far From Home // Story: Sweetie Belle - Hogwarts Exchange Student // by Georg //------------------------------// Sweetie Belle - Hogwarts Exchange Student Far From Home Sweetie Belle was… a lot of things. Nervous, of course. She had been nervous about the trip before, of course. And embarrassed, too. With all the eyes staring at her around the room, she was more embarrassed than when Rarity caught her and Rumble in a broom closet, trying to figure out why his glow-in-the-dark watch wasn’t. Naked also, which she was perfectly used to when covered in her pony coat, and unused to with the very thin and almost hairless human skin she was wearing now. And cold, which only made sense. But most of all, she was aware that she was an exchange student, and as such, she was an ambassador of sorts from Equestria to here. Ambassadors did not curl up on the floor with their hands over their eyes and whimper. They stood tall, just like Princess Celestia in her human form, who stood by her side with a proud smile meant for her and only her. The woman standing to her other side was very much not smiling. She was a tall, thin human, with a pointed hat that only made her look taller, and a complete collection of clothes in shades of black and more black, which contrasted greatly with Celestia’s flowing pale blue and vibrant pink silks. Instead of a smile, the woman wore an expression much like Mayor Mare looked whenever the Crusaders broke something in a particularly innovative fashion, most often with fire. And yet there was something in the woman’s blue eyes that bespoke of a time long ago when she too had been covered in tree sap while trying to find her special talent. A membership in the sisterhood of disaster, so to speak, which surprisingly enough matched a few sparks in Celestia’s soft violet eyes too. It was a confusing situation, but made Sweetie’s heart slow its frantic pounding with the additional thought that if she had brought Rarity along, her sister would have had a fit over the woman’s drab clothes, or twice the angst and agony if she had seen the elderly humans around her in the large room wearing robes in such a revolting color of puce. Sweetie knew better than to bring any of those clothes back through the portal with her, or Rarity would come storming back through with intent. And fire. There was certainly a storm brewing in the crowd of elderly humans watching her now. They had begun to shout and point fingers almost immediately when she had appeared, and the volume and the hand-waving continued to grow until Sweetie wished Princess Celestia would tell them to be quiet. Then again, Celestia was in somepony else’s country, so ordering them to be quiet would probably not work. The older lady bent over and removed a shawl from her thin shoulders, draping it across Sweetie’s bare and slightly chilly front. “My word,” she said in a low tone of voice that the squabbing humans most likely were not able to hear. “I haven’t seen them in such a tizzy since Hagrid started school. Hold still for a moment.” The woman produced a short stick, more like a twig, and made a series of short swishes in midair that corresponded with the shawl transforming into an ensemble of clothes on Sweetie’s body, although her odd feet with the stubby little ‘toes’ on them remained bare. An additional twitch of the stick made socks, then shoes to cover them up, and one long swish of the stick made her small saddlebag twist and nestle onto Sweetie’s back, changing colors until it matched the same dull shade of black as the rest of her magical clothes and settling in place with the quiet clink of shifting gems. The outfit was warm and welcome in the chilly room, although the clothes pinched in awkward spots on her new human body. “Thank you, Headmistress McGonagall.” Princess Celestia’s smile was unchanging, as eternal as the Sun Princess and bright enough to make even the dismal black of the woman’s clothes seem to take life. “So nice to finally meet you in person. Sweetie Belle, this is Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmistress McGonagall, this is your new student, Sweetie Belle, and I am Celestia.” Sweetie could see the elderly woman’s eyes momentarily dart to the top of Celestia’s head where a thin golden tiara rested, then back down to look the princess straight in the eyes. Despite many ponies finding such directness in confronting Princess Celestia to be uncomfortable, the human had no such reluctance, and kept her calm demeanor as if meeting a princess from another world who wished to downplay her title was an everyday occasion. “Thank you, Celestia,” said McGonagall with a short nod of her head that made the pointed tip of her hat bob. “I have to admit, there were some things missing in your correspondence—” “Entirely my fault,” said Celestia, who reached out and held McGonagall’s hand. “Do take good care of Sweetie Belle for me, please. Princess Twilight says great things about her. I’m certain she will do your school proud.” “Excuse me,” said Sweetie, who had been a little distracted from the conversation by the room’s noisy occupants around them, who seemed more like an audience around a stage than any sort of school room that she had seen before. “Are those the other students? And do they shout like that all the time?” She had wanted to ask why they all seemed to be so old, with tufts of grey hair and wrinkles peeking out from where their puce robes and pointed hats did not cover. It did not seem to be a very tactful question, reinforced by the humorous response of Headmaster McGonagall snorting back a quick laugh with a hidden smile. “No, Miss Belle. Those witches and wizards are members of the Wizengamot. They are responsible for all the laws our wizarding world live under. Do you have anything like that in Equestria?” Sweetie Belle looked up at the squabbling figures around her, at least fifty of them scattered across several benches and arguing at the top of their lungs. “Just Princess Twilight and her friends, and they don’t shout at each other unless they really need to.” “Order!” barked a pudgy man seated about center in the collection of benches. He rapped a short stick on the table, which made a loud banging noise that did not lower the sound level at all, even after he repeated his call and banged on the table several times. Sweetie Belle could feel Celestia’s gentle touch on her back, urging her to stand straight on her hind feet, which she managed after a few false starts and some swaying. Standing up like that was a lot like going to Apple Bloom’s dance lessons only without the tiny pink cloth shoes. The humans seemed to do this balancing act instinctively, so she was probably going to have to get used to it. A little careful checking revealed her horn was gone too, which did not panic her very much since Headmaster McGonagall had used magic to make clothes appear out of nothing, so humans used those little sticks like unicorns used horns. When in Roam, I suppose. Celestia took her position so close to Sweetie’s side that the flowing pastel cloth of her gown drifted across her skirted knees, while the headmaster for the school stood on Sweetie’s other side. They both simply stood and watched the shouting elderly wizards and witches, which was what human unicorns must have been called here. Eventually, the members of the Wizengamot began to look back, partially because of the pudgy man hammering his wand against the table, and presumably a little to look at the odd student standing between two tall teachers. “Gentlewizards. GENTLEWIZARDS!” bellowed the man between loud thuds of his wand until the noise died down into a lot of wide-eyed stares at Sweetie and one female human somewhere back in the crowd who said “Dawwww,” before quickly shutting her mouth and trying not to look as if she said anything. “Did I do something wrong?” asked Sweetie Belle in a nervous voice that shifted unexpectedly into a near squeak, which seemed to cause one elderly wizard in the back of the group to clutch his chest and sit down abruptly. “That is what we are to determine,” said the pudgy wizard in a near growl. “My name is Balthasar Bulstrode, and I am the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. You are Miss Celestia, I presume? The letter we received was remarkably short on specifics. Are you an instructor at your school?” “A founder of several, in fact, and semi-retired now,” said Princess Celestia in a remarkable display of understatement. “Teaching is such a joy, but many times I find I learn as much from my students as they do from me. It helps me feel what it was like to be young at times,” she admitted. “Very well, then.” Balthasar Bulstrode checked a sheaf of papers sitting in front of him. “This would be your student, Sweetie Belle? A unicorn?” Sweetie nodded, because she was afraid to squeak again. Scootaloo always said she sounded like Squeaky Belle when she got nervous, while Apple Bloom just said she needed to calm down and not take things so personal. Thinking about her friends made Sweetie feel at least a little more confident, and she straightened up to look the chubby wizard in the eyes. “Headmistress McGonagall,” said Bulstrode in a low voice on the edge of thundering, “You said everything about this student exchange was completely ordinary. What is the meaning of this?” “For Hogwarts, this is ordinary,” said the slim woman to Sweetie’s side. “All twelve of the school governors have approved the transfer, including the heads of each House. I believe all of our paperwork is in order, so if you will approve the school’s request, my student and I can be on our way back to Hogwarts.” “Not so fast.” Mister Bulstrode puffed up a lot like a frog who was trying to croak, completely filling the large chair he was occupying. “I don’t see how we can approve this student for admission into our school. She was clearly a unicorn when she came through the portal. A wizard or witch must have a wand, and since Clause Three of the Code of Wand Use prohibits the use of wands by non-humans, she is obviously ineligible.” There were a number of ‘here-here’ and ‘indeeds’ in the crowd, along with some turned-up noses, while most of the witches and wizards seemed reluctant to say anything. Headmaster McGonagall had no such hesitation and took one step forward. “Mister Bulstrode, you are correct in your interpretation of the law. ‘No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand.’ The Code is quite clear.” The tall witch turned to Sweetie Belle with a twinkle in her eye. “Therefore I see no problem here at all.” The shouting began among the wizards at once, stopping only when Bulstrode hammered on his table again. “You saw the creature when she came through the portal,” he blustered. “She’s a unicorn!” “Really?” Headmaster McGonagall looked Sweetie Belle over from top to bottom and put a hand on her shoulder before turning back to address the Wizengamot again. “You did pass your class in the care of magical creatures, Mister Bulstrode, so you can accurately identify a unicorn, correct?” Sweetie Belle was about to speak up about how she really was a unicorn when she felt McGonagall’s thin fingers tighten on her shoulder. Balthasar Bulstrode swelled up like a bullfrog again and fairly spat, “Just because she can appear to be a human does not mean—” Then the most peculiar thing happened. Headmistress McGonagall shrank, and in less time that it took to blink twice, had turned into a short-haired grey cat with thin black stripes, or perhaps a black cat with a number of large grey stripes, it was rather difficult to tell which. The cat proceeded to stride deliberately in front of Sweetie Belle’s feet and sat down, facing the fat man who appeared to be slowly suffocating by way of turning crimson. Sweetie wanted to pick her up, but her sister Rarity’s cat Opalescence had trained her well, so she sat down with Celestia to pet the cat/headmistress while waiting. “Point of order,” called one of the other wizards, a mousy-looking man with very small, green spectacles. “A simple majority vote of the Wizengamot is all that is needed to pass this on. Whether the unicorn can turn into a human, or if this… Sweetie Belle, was it?” For such a tall and striking woman, Princess Celestia seemed to have faded into the background to the point where nohuman in the Wizengamot was even looking at her. Instead, they were all looking at Sweetie Belle, who silently nodded. The man continued, “Or if a human can turn into a unicorn, the result is still the same. We’ve had students at Hogwarts who have been part this and that for centuries. Even one of the professors has some goblin ancestry, if I recall. The key is that they are human, and therefore eligible to be schooled. The debate on if any relaxation of Clause Three is warranted due to the meritorious actions of various non-humans who took part in the battle against—” there was a fractional hesitation “—Voldemort is a separate issue. The case here appears simple. Since Sweetie Belle is in a human form, and has been approved by the Governors and Headmistress of the school, she should be granted the rights and privileges of a student for this limited time. Since all appropriate authorities of the school have already unanimously approved the transfers, I see no reason why we cannot proceed to a vote.” “I hereby second the motion,” said an elderly witch in short, clipped words. “This is an outrage!” The rest of the Wizengamot burst into furious discussion as Bulstrode shouted further, although it became quite difficult to hear him. Sweetie could hear the repetition of the word ‘travesty’ several times, and several of the humans even seemed close to coming to blows over their arguments. If this was the way the humans determined their laws, Sweetie was quite content to keep Equestria’s current system of princesses, despite the occasional heavenly hiccup. After a long time which she spent petting the Headmistress/cat with Celestia silently by her side, the humans settled down and voted by raising their wands. It was close, closer than Sweetie was comfortable with, but she was not too nervous. When the chubby man hammered the Wizengamot back into order, the two Equestrians stood back up and brushed off any loose cat hairs, although McGonagall remained sitting on the floor, washing diligently behind one ear. “Very well,” growled Bulstrode. “I will accede to the will of the Wizengamot, but we will be watching your student very closely, Headmistress.” There was a sense of motion and the slender witch was standing by Sweetie again, nodding at Bulstrode. In no time at all, Sweetie found herself trying to say goodbye to Princess Celestia, which apparently involved a handshake and a few moments of awkward finger-wiggling until they could figure out just which one went where. “You were both right.” Sweetie beamed. “I’m so glad I trusted you.” “I’m glad we both trusted each other.” Celestia reached down and picked up Sweetie’s knapsack from where she had dropped it in order to pet the headmistress, and held it during the several attempts it took Sweetie to put it back on. “Now go on, pay attention to your teachers, and make friends. Before you know it, you’ll be back in Ponyville with a whole year’s worth of experiences to share, so go out there and make some memories.” “Thank you, Princess. I will.” Sweetie walked unsteadily away with McGonagall’s hand on her elbow to stabilize her unpracticed gait in the direction of a side door. Just before they reached it, she whispered, “Professor McGonagall, did you mind when we were petting you?” “Not at all, child. Just don’t let the other students know.” McGonagall patted her on the elbow and wrinkled up her nose. “Interferes with school discipline.” Then they departed the dark courtroom and opened a door into the future. - - Ω - - Theodore Nott found stepping out into the open center of the Wizengamot to be far less nerve-wracking than he thought it was going to be. Part of that was due to a large silver mirror in the middle of the room with a tall, regal-looking woman he had never seen before standing next to it. He had always liked new experiences and trying to puzzle out challenges before any of his class. The mirror was most likely the anchor for the portal spell they would use to travel to the mysterious northern land that the letter had been so reluctant to describe adequately. The woman, however… Her colorful clothes were made of thin silks in white and pastel colors, drifting as if she were standing in a gentle breeze, which was odd because there was no wind at all in the stuffy room. She was certainly not a Vela, even though she had the perfect posture of a model, the eyes of a goddess, and the form… of something that Theodore should probably find something more interesting to look at before he was caught staring. He decided to look around the Wizengamot chambers instead. Admittedly, for a room which Theodore had never wanted to see in the first place, it seemed remarkably harmless. There were not even any imprisoned spirits chained to the walls or gruesome monsters held back by arcane wards to tear the livers out of anybody who awoke the ire of the Wizengamot. In fact, it looked much like the dusty old theatre in the basement of House Nott, which several centuries ago had been a gathering place for wizards to display their talents on stage. That had ended, of course, with the unfortunate demise of Backfire Nott, who still haunted the bowels of the House, offering wizardly advice to anybody foolish enough to take it. The murmuring wizards of the Wizengamot looked more like some sort of social group that would have been right at home in House Nott’s basement theatre some centuries ago, casting disapproving glances at their fellow performing wizards and making snide comments on their parentage. Nott had to remind himself that despite their harmless appearances, their combined power was more than sufficient to do away with any criminal brought before them and their legal power could reach across the world to summon such criminals from any other wizarding domain. The Wizengamot’s greatest weakness was the members themselves, and their view of each other as rivals. As long as that delicate balance was maintained, their actions were likewise weak and relatively ineffectual, but when their attention was unified by some sort of outside threat, they forgot their internal quarrels and moved with immense strength, although frequently in the wrong direction. Even the Dark Lord himself never challenged the Wizengamot directly, taking the subtle approach of intimidating and subverting the individual members while working in the shadows. Those shadows seemed to flow around Theodore as Professor Vector left his side, moving to her seat with her peers in judgement. He pulled his luggage trolley forward with his head held high, ignoring the whispering witches and wizards in favor of the tall woman who so dominated the center of the room. And in return, the woman bestowed upon him a similar evaluating glance which seemed to sweep all the way through his head as if he were made of glass, and she was admiring the way the light twinkled in his soul. “Ah, Mister Nott,” said the tall woman with a practiced smile. Theodore was used to smiles, and the way they were used to cover up other emotions, or as a distraction for some sort of unexpected attack. Then there were the guileless smiles of the witless who were begging to be taken advantage of by those smarter or more powerful. This smile… was not. It seemed to be an honest smile, much like the one he had once seen on Professor Dumbledore’s face when he had first looked at Harry Potter after sorting. It was a proud smile, filled with concern and hopes for the future, but having a small fraction of a shark in it too for anyone who would attempt to thwart the smile’s owner and their plans. This was not the smile of someone who could be bribed, threatened, or bought, and the realization brought a sharp chill to the bottom of Theodore’s Slytherin heart. “Good morning, Professor—” Theodore hesitated just a moment before saying the unfamiliar name “—Celestia.” Lesser students would have followed up by praising the learning experience they were looking forward to, or buttering up the movers and shakers that had made arrangements for the upcoming trip. It was all just unneeded chattering, because the decisions had already been made, and everything Theodore was taking with him was already packed into three stout trunks and pulled behind him on a fat-tyred trolley like he was off to the train, sans tracks. Not that the upcoming trip made him nervous. At least not too much. After all, Theodore knew transport spells. He had traveled by Disapparation before, as well as Floo powder, flying carpet, and all manners of magical transportation. Even the Portkey spell had been reasonably understandable during his Advanced Charms class, all of which were wizard spells in which he had earned his Outstanding rating, and most certainly would have excelled in the N.E.W.T. examinations which had been cancelled for obvious reasons. This year would provide a totally different experience than anything he had seen before. Passing through a mirror created by another dimension did not seem to be a very safe form of transportation, even if it had been approved of by fifty or so of the Wizengamot. He would have much rather set foot inside one of the Muggle aeroplanes, because at least he would have been able to see out the window. “I’m not really what you would call a professor,” said the tall woman, not changing her peaceful smile in the slightest. “I only teach my students certain lessons that others cannot. For your personal instructor, I have selected a very special individual. He asked for an older student with extensive experience in the nastiest curses, hexes, jinxes, and dark artifacts that our world could provide, and when I could not find one of my students who met his criteria, I was exceedingly fortunate to find you. With the permission of your wizard’s council, of course.” “Just one moment, Ma’am.” Balthasar Bulstrode stood up at the main table of the Wizengamot, giving Theodore a brief, concerned look. “I don’t recall Professor McGonagall saying anything about sending one of our students into such a dangerous environment.” The woman was obviously a master manipulator. Somehow she managed to make a simple glance at the charred Hogwarts emblem on Theodore’s luggage and a raised eyebrow into such an effective wordless argument that Balthazar Bulstrode spluttered and coughed before even attempting a retort. “Not that Hogwarts is dangerous. Any more. Now that—” Bulstrode stopped again, apparently steeling his will and bursting out with “—Voldemort is gone for good. Ahem. Yes. What kind of danger were you planning on sending this young man into?” Celestia nodded slowly as if conceding the point. “Much as your world has lived through the destruction of a great evil with the defeat of your Voldemort, our Crystal Empire too has suffered with the destruction of King Sombra. Many of his spells and devices remained buried after his death, but over the last few months, there have been signs of these destructive elements reemerging. If that were not bad enough, certain… powers are not content to see these evils destroyed when they can be bent to their own wills.” “Well, why not request the services of one of our Aurors?” responded Bulstrode with an obvious sense of wounded pride. “They have great experience with dark magic and how to fight it, while the student you have selected is but a boy.” “He is an adult by your laws and ours,” countered Celestia almost instantly. “And as for his age and experience, your Aurors are indeed powerful and talented, but Equestrian magic is different than yours, as you have so clearly seen. We have need of a young and flexible mind who will not respond to situations with reflexes honed against a different sort of magic, because such practiced reactions are far more likely to be dangerous than safe in our world.” “If so,” started Balthasar Bulstrode, “after his year of education is over, he will return to us unprepared for life in our world.” “I do not believe so, or I would not have sent Sweetie Belle to your world for a year,” responded Celestia in a perfect verbal parry. “His experiences will change him for the better, allowing young Theodore greater knowledge of both magic and cultures from each of our worlds. Both of our students have flexible minds that will benefit by this exchange, and in return I believe so will all of us. In any event, it is ultimately the decision of the students, and their judgement. What do you say, Mister Nott?” Theodore was shocked, because he had been following along during the conversation as if it had been a duel between an old, cagey witch and a flailing amateur wizard. The woman had not used her words like knives, to cut and slice away at Balthasar’s arguments. Instead, she had agreed with the fat old fraud, and used his own words to prove her points. If there was any hidden meaning or selfish intent on her part, he certainly could see none of it. What he could see was opportunity far beyond his first instinctual reaction when he had received the letter. “I believe I can do this,” said Theodore. “What Professor Celestia stated is correct. Since their magic is different than ours, the most experienced Auror placed in their world would be at significant disadvantage. I’ll be able to provide a different point of view on a problem they obviously need assistance with, or she would not have come to us.” Left unspoken was the idea that some of this dark magic could be sampled, or used after Theodore returned, or even better, tucked away in one of the special compartments in his luggage much like the purloined Time Turner he had ‘found’ during the chaotic last few days at Hogwarts. Balthasar Bulstrode seemed discontented at the way the conversation had turned, although he allowed the rest of the Wizengamot to vote anyway, and obviously withheld his own when the number of wands raised against Theodore’s travel plans could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Since Bulstrode could not block the action, he gave a brief speech speckled with ‘uphold the reputation of our world’ and ‘great responsibility’ several times, leaving the distinct impression that the older wizard had thought up the entire idea himself. Theodore did not point out the obvious deception, but simply nodded along with it, keeping his face set in the impassive mask that he had used for many years at Hogwarts to hide his thoughts. Then it was time, and Theodore Nott faced the shimmering surface of the mirror to observe the reflection of the tall young man and the beautiful woman by his side. He extended his elbow as his father had taught him, and made note of the powerful grip that Celestia had when she took it. Then they both stepped forward, into their reflections and through the magical portal. The world spun and twisted around Theodore, much worse than a bad trip through an obscure Floo exit point and making it very difficult to maintain a firm grasp on the trolley with his luggage. He did, of course, because the idea of going back to find misplaced portions of his things was not on his list of things to do when arriving. Then the spinning of the world ended with a sharp wrenching sensation, allowing him to take a quick step forward so he was not overrun by his luggage, which would have been a wonderful way to introduce himself to whatever was waiting on this side. Theodore brushed off his suit, counted the cases on the trolley, and turned to face the woman… ...who was most certainly not a woman.