“Are you gonna eat that?” Lyra looked expectantly at the cake that was still on Bon Bon’s plate.
The spell was broken. With glistening eyes, Bon Bon lifted a hoof to pull the plate a bit closer to her side of the table. “Honestly, Lyra . . .”
“Sorry. But it’s just been sitting there, and . . . “
“Just be thankful that I’m allowing cake for breakfast, just this once,” Bon Bon countered. “We should be setting a better example for our son.”
The confectioner had a long last found contentment. Now that her soulmate and their child were seated at the breakfast table with her, she finally felt that her life was complete. Somehow, she could not bring herself to look at them, not yet.
“She’s right,” the pegasus colt sitting at the table noted. “You’ve been staring at your slice for five minutes now.”
A smile came to Bon Bon's lips as she turned her gaze to her son. His royal blue coat was complemented nicely by his messy black mane and tail. The smile started to fade when she noted that his stature was more typical of somepony two years his junior.
“I’m sorry, Harry Potter.” Bon Bon held up a forehoof when the colt started to protest. "I know you only want me to use half of your name, like a human would, but you'll have to give me time." She sighed. "I'm just not ready for this. It's happening way too soon."
“Bon Bon.” Lyra gave her partner an empathetic smile. “Winter break can’t last forever. Harry needs to go back to school. He’ll be back for another break not too long after Winter Wrap-Up.”
“We just got him.” Bon Bon whispered,” I’m not ready to let him go.”
“I know.” Lyra’s voice lacked the joy it normally held. “I so want to hug him close and tell him he can’t leave.”
“I’m sorry.” Harry’s head dipped as his ears laid back on his skull. “I didn’t mean to hurt you two.”
“It’s not your fault.” Bon Bon sniffed. “Don’t think for one second that it is.”
Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. This was a whole new experience for him. Half a year ago, he would never have dreamed that he didn’t want to leave his home to go to Hogwarts. Then again, a half year ago, where he lay his head at night was his relatives’ house, the Dursleys'.
That place had never been his home. Never was he welcome there. They had taken every opportunity to let him know that he was an uninvited nuisance, the only thing keeping them from enjoying normal lives. He had been treated worse than the lowest scullery maid. He had been relegated to a cramped closet under the stairs. The only respite from their torment had been those rare days when he had been ignored.
Half a year had made all the difference in his world. Now, he had a normal room with what he assumed was a comfortable bed. He had yet to spend a night there; instead, he had been nestled between his two new mothers. Despite being on an alien planet in a body not his own, he had finally found a home.
“Don’t worry about us,” Lyra said. “We’ll manage. Your job is to enjoy your time with your friends and get good grades.”
“Hermione, Parvati, and Sweetie wouldn’t let me get bad grades,” Harry said. “Ron gets mad because they don’t let him play as much wizard’s chess as he would like. You should have seen the fit he threw when Sweetie had Philomena take his set back to the Burrow until he finished his homework.”
“We’ll trust them to keep you in line then,” Bon Bon said.
“Actually,” Harry said, “it’s Apple Bloom who keeps us in line. She ended up putting Ron in a headlock.”
After a decade-long absence, the lord of stately Black Manor had returned. His new life was as far removed from his stint in Azkaban as a flobberworm was from a nundu. The predominant new constant in his life was the woman cuddled in his arms. The one drooling on his shoulder from behind was a new addition to his nascent herd. The smells of yeast and sweets reminded him there was a missing member, one whose baking skills put the house elf to shame. How Pinkie Pie had managed to extricate herself without waking anyone was far beyond anything that Sirius could understand.
To be honest, half of the things that Pinkie did were beyond him. Sirius swore he'd eat the sorting hat if that woman didn't know how to apparate on an instinctual level. Twilight had claimed she could write a book on Pinkie's antics. Sirius knew that claim was a gross understatement.
In all ways that mattered, the pink party pony was now his wife. Any thoughts that he may have had of staying a confirmed bachelor after his release had been quickly crushed. They had not only been crushed, but also muddled, minced, pureed, and atomized. He was now married thrice over. To be more accurate, he was bonded in heart and soul in ways that not even the Reaper could rend asunder.
Matrimony was not the only surprise that had greeted him outside the prison walls. The unconscionable cruelty of wizarding law had denied the victims of Azkaban any outside contact; he had believed that he had been abandoned to his fate. Now, he found that his family had not only survived but also grown.
When he had left, of those that he would have claimed kinship, there had been only his uncle Alphard, his cousin Andromeda, and her family. Unfortunately, his uncle hadn’t survived Sirius’ absence. However, his heretofore estranged cousin Narcissa had been welcomed back into the fold with her betrothed, Moony. Although he had been denied Harry's custody, he knew the boy was in good hooves. Then, there were the other children, a complete surprise. Never would he have imagined taking in the spawn of a Deatheater. Luckily, his own experience of the elder Potters accepting him into their home and hearts was a good template. He refused to visit the sins of the father on Draco.
The biggest surprise was his adoptive son. Sirius found Spike to be very much the little boy, although he still was cautious with the family jewels around the hatchling. The one who posed the greatest quandary, however, was the lost cousin recuperating in St. Mungo's; it remained to be seen whether she was an innocent lamb or a black sheep. More properly, for his family, an outcast would be a white sheep. That metaphor was a serious mismatch for the Black family.
Despite his decade of torment, Sirius found that life could hardly have dealt him a better hand. The only thing he needed to make his life complete was a bit of rat pâté, with a side of fava beans.
The conversation at the breakfast table was decidedly one-sided as a very human Scootaloo nursed a bowl of porridge. The way Spike was carrying on, one would think he was returning to Hogwarts instead of Draco and Scootaloo. The girl did her best to channel her favorite Power Pony, but despite how much she yearned, heat vision was beyond her grasp. For the moment, Spike was spared the indignity of becoming a crispy critter.
Then again, he was a dragon; frost breath was probably the way to go.
“The new rules for naval combat will be out next month,” Spike told Draco. They had spent their spare time during the holiday engrossed in a role-playing game, and it tended to dominate all of their conversations. “I’ll get you a copy and have an owl deliver it.”
“You are lucky; you don’t have school work eating into your time,” Draco grumbled, poking at his black pudding. “I’m not going to be able to read the new rules until the next break rolls around.”
“Eh.” Spike shrugged. “I’ve got to do something. Ever since Twilight stopped her regular lessons with the princess, I’ve had more free time than I know what to do with. Being her number one assistant isn’t exactly overwhelming anymore.” He gave a half-hearted sigh. “With Kreacher and Pinkie doing all of the cooking . . . on top of all of the things Owlowiscious does . . .”
“More time for you to do what you want,” Draco said enviously, oblivious to Spike's feelings.
“Yeah,” Spike agreed gloomily. “More me time. It's not like Twilight has much for me to do these days.”
Scootaloo blinked at the small dragon and came to a decision. “Come to school with us.”
Spike blinked back at her in surprise. “Scootaloo, I couldn’t do that. Twilight needs me.”
Pausing with another spoonful halfway to her mouth, Scootaloo said, “You just said she’s got more help now. Besides, you’ll be a better assistant when you come back.”
“I . . .” Spike said, “I can’t just abandon her. Besides, it’s too late to enroll.”
“We just have to ask Discord,” Scootaloo said around a mouthful. “He can send an owl back in time.”
“I could use your help training Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.” Draco perked up and immediately got on the bandwagon.
“Dream on,” Scootaloo snorted.
“At the very least, he could run interference,” Draco insisted.
“I am not getting involved with that crazy filly,” Spike returned.
“You’d be a big help for your cousin,” Draco countered.
“I have my sights set elsewhere,” Spike said with finality.
“Rarity,” Scootaloo coughed.
“She’s too old for you.” Draco whined, “I need help, now. Greg and Vincent are useless.”
“I am not getting involved with that filly,” Spike reiterated. “It doesn’t take a genius to know who's wearing the bridle and who is holding the crop in that herd.”
“But . . .” Draco objected.
“Give it up.” Scootaloo said. “They have you blindered and whipped, and you know it.”
Spike openly chuckled at the exchange.
“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you.” Scootaloo swallowed a mouthful. “You’re just as bad as he is.”
“That’s not true . . .” Spike started as suddenly another individual appeared in the room.
“Here we go,” Discord said placing a shrunken trunk on the table in front of Spike. “Your school supplies are all enclosed.” He snapped his claw and a copper ring appeared. “You will be needing this as well. I think that covers everything.”
The three children stared at the draconequus in shock.
“What?” Discord returned their stares.
“How?” Draco started.
Discord pulled back his nonexistent sleeve to check the oversized watch that appeared on his wrist. “Am I early?”
The children continued to stare.
“What can I say for myself?” Discord shook his wrist before placing his ear next to his timepiece to check its integrity. “Time can be so wibbly wobbly.”
“Ah,” Scootaloo stated smartly.
“What’s ten minutes one way or the other?” Discord tossed the wristwatch into his mouth to chew on it thoughtfully. “Should I come back after you have made your decision?”
Spike sighed as he looked at Draco. “I’m still not helping you with Diamond Tiara.”
The bedlam that was the first day of school after the holidays was nothing new to Mrs. Barker. She had held her post for over three decades, and it was still both her honor and her pleasure to be the first person outside of their homes from whom her students would receive guidance on a regular basis. With justifiable pride, she could honestly say that she remembered each and every student whose life she had touched. Given the length of her tenure, some would ask her whether she had seen everything. After all, she was now teaching some of the children of her former students.
Befitting her station, she would honestly answer no. It was rare, but she would occasionally come across something original. She had seen fads come and go and come again. She had seen long-forgotten ideas dredged up and touted as new. However, the revelation of magic, real magic, was unquestionably a new experience.
Just this morning, she had received tacit confirmation that at least two of her former students were capable of using magic. It was not uncommon for the older children to arrive on a bicycle borrowed from a sibling. However, this morning, one of her former students flew in on a broomstick, claiming she had borrowed the conveyance from her older brother.
Going under the assumption that the talent was hereditary, Mrs. Barker now found herself in an uncomfortable position. The girl's younger sister was one of her current students. The little one's bright and outgoing personality made her impossible to dislike. Mrs. Barker struggled to find a way to see if her student had the talent without revealing it to the rest of the class. There was no way to tell if the girl would be uncomfortable with the situation.
Fate intervened with the subtlety of a runaway train.
“Did your big sister fly to school?” the Dixon boy demanded of the Thomas girl as the students were settling in.
“Yup.” Rosie frowned. “Eva left without me. Grandmum had to drive me, instead. Dean’s going to throw a fit over his broom when he finds out it’s missing from his trunk.”
“You would’ve fallen off,” the Addams boy asserted maliciously.
“Nuh uh.” Rosie scowled. “Brooms have spells to keep you on them. 'Sides, I can fly on my own.”
Mrs. Barker struggled to decide what to do about the revelation of a third magical child.
“You can’t fly,” the Dixon boy asserted. “You’re fibbing.”
“Can too!” Rosie said.
“Cannot!”
“Can too!”
“Cannot!”
“Can too!”
Sharply, Mrs. Barker said, "Tyler! Rosie!"
The two children looked at her guiltily and ceased their bickering. Given her success with Rosie's older siblings, Mrs. Barker decided that the best course of action would be to treat the girl as she would any other student.
“Cannot.” The Dixon boy defiantly stuck out his tongue.
The teacher was about to admonish him when Rosie replied, “Can too! See!” With those words, the young girl shrank and transformed into a little horse, with wings.
Rosie flapped her wings lazily as she hovered a bit below the ceiling. "I can fly. I can fly! I CAN FLY!"
The Addams boy looked at the adorable airborne amazement and uttered the thought passing through every student's mind. "Cool!"
Forcibly quashing her astonishment, Mrs. Barker commanded, "Rosie, change back . . ."
In a surprising display of parkour, Grace, the smallest girl in the class leapt onto her desk, sprang to the counter, jumped to the side of a cabinet and pushed off. She screamed, "Mine!" as she performed an impressive midair tackle.
Platform 9 ¾ was bustling with activity. Wizards and witches were saying goodbye to their children after what many would remember as the most eventful winter break ever. There just weren’t any words that adequately described the complete collapse of their shield of secrecy.
In one of the fireplaces situated around the area, the merry flames shifted to green before a young man strode confidently from them. With an absentminded flick of his wand, he removed all traces of ash from his body. He didn’t get four steps before the next traveler was ejected from the flames in a less elegant manner. The figure of a woman came to a skidding halt at the young man’s feet.
“Are you all right, Berry?” Barnaby asked, leaning down to help the woman to her feet.
“You mean besides leaving my dignity on the other side of those flames?” Berry Punch asked. She had scarcely stood up when the next traveler appeared. This one was a little girl who managed to retain her upright position even though she stumbled forward into her mother.
“How’d you like your first floo trip, Berryshine?” Barnaby asked her as she trembled.
Berryshine looked up and shook her head with a frown.
Barnaby chuckled as the flames went green again, this time ejecting Bon Bon. “You’ll get used to it,” Barnaby said as he tugged the two females out of the landing zone.
Berryshine shook her head a second time.
The flames continued to spit out people, many of whom had notably colorful hair.
After everyone had arrived, Lyra addressed Harry. “I don’t want you to go,” she said tearfully.
Harry shifted nervously from foot to foot. “I’ll be back for Easter,” he said meekly, obviously not enthusiastic over leaving his new mothers behind.
“We know.” Bon Bon did her best to sound cheerful. “Just remember you promised to write us at least once a week.”
“I'll remember,” Harry promised just before he was tackle hugged by a low flying bushy-haired missile.
“There you are!” Hermione declared before Harry managed to regain his bearings. “I’ve been waiting here with my parents for almost an hour. We would have been here sooner if not for the crowd outside watching people go through the barrier.”
“Hermione, let 'im breathe,” Apple Bloom said, coming up behind the other girl. “’Sides, y'all just saw him two days ago.”
“Apple Bloom!” Hermione changed her hug target.
“How does she not have a glomping cutie mark?” Scootaloo asked. “Oooomph! I’m happy to see you too Hermione.”
“Scootaloo!”
The train would be leaving soon.
She could not shake the feeling of dread in spite of herself. She had already lived through the pain once; a family member had boarded that accursed conveyance, never to be seen by muggle eyes again. Now, she stood ready to send off her own flesh and blood.
There was so much potential for disaster. There was TOO MUCH potential for disaster. She had already suffered through it once. She lost her sister and had been cursed to hate her nephew. Now, she stood ready to send off her own flesh and blood.
This time, it would be different. This time, she was no longer blind to the secret world. This time, she had friends who knew of her plight. This time, she would not be defenseless.
She had been given a gift that was precious beyond measure. It had always been her dream to enter the secret world. It had always been beyond her grasp -- until now. What she had coveted was second nature to her benefactor. What she had thought was impossible, a purple unicorn had seen as routine as fitting glasses.
Now, she was part of the world that had stolen her sister. More importantly, now her son was also part of that magical world. A part of her still called it freakish. That part of her was duly ignored. Her childhood dream was there for the taking, and take it she would. She would honor the memory of her sister. She would do her family proud -- all of her family, despite what she had been doing for years.
She would spend her evenings with the Grangers and their tutor. Enrollment in a recognized magic school was required for an adult to own a wand. Fortunately, the accreditation process allowed for a one-instructor school.
She would no longer be the woman she had been forced to become. She would no longer be the exaggerated caricature of an evil stepmother. She would always bear the shame of what she had been forced to do. She had lost so much to that woman . . . so much time . . . so much love. There were so many wrongs that she had to right.
She would gladly punch the woman she had been in the nose, despite knowing she would probably break her hand in the process. She would gladly throw all her strength to avenge herself on her tormentor, despite knowing that the battle was lost before it had begun. So much had changed in so little time, and it was just the beginning.
She struggled not to break under the burden she now bore. She was now a witch. Her sister had been a witch. Her son, through the intercession of a purple unicorn, was now a wizard.
Magic had stolen much from her family. The time had come to reclaim what was rightfully theirs -- with interest.
She watched as her husband set their son's trunk on a trolly. The time had come. The die had been cast.
“Come along Dudley,” she said, sorrow and joy warring for her voice. “You have a train to catch.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked the pink filly with a hedgehog cutie mark as she sat on the comfortable couch.
“Probably not,” said the athletic pegasus colt, ruffling his wings. As he shifted to move a little further from the filly, he continued. “But I’m tired of letting the Crusaders have all of the fun. I’m done doing normal.”
“We are so going to get grounded,” whined the filly.
“It’ll be worth it,” said a brown colt, tapping the propeller on his beanie as he sat on another chair. “You didn’t see the arcade the Crusaders took me to.”
“Have I mentioned how pathetic it is that you agreed to come along, just for some video games,” said the first colt.
“Hey!” the second colt objected. “I didn’t come just for the video games. This is going to be a real-life adventure.”
“Keep it down,” said the filly. “We don’t want Apple Bloom opening her trunk until we get there. All the time we spent gem hunting will have been wasted if we get caught before we get there.”
“Please be quiet,” begged a lavender unicorn filly who anxiously paced across the room. “My human will be there; I can’t let this opportunity pass me by.”
“Okay. okay,” said the first colt. “Excuse me for getting excited. It’s not like we’re sneaking off to go to school in another dimension.”
“Eh,” said the second colt. “The Crusaders did it, how hard can it be?”
There was much more to the security system than the spikes atop the wrought iron. The gates swung open at his presence. He entered, crossing the ward line. The magic of the castle reached out and permeated his very being. Ancient magics checked for dangers new and old. Probes thought to be infallible checked for deceit. Echoes of what had been resonated with what was present. Ultimately, the castle recognized its master. Without fanfare, the magics yielded and passed control back to him.
He was home.
The crisp January weather was a welcomed change from the environs of his former accommodations. Every day above ground was a good one. As he made his way to the portcullis, he could not help but put a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step. He had no doubt there would be challenges ahead. He had no doubt he would overcome them; he always did, after all.
The magic of the grounds whispered to him, telling a tale easy to interpret. It told of what had happened and what was going on. He put on a winning smile for the crowd he knew was waiting on the other side of the door. With practiced nonchalance, he entered.
When he finally arrived at the entrance hall, an elderly witch approached, followed by the rest of the faculty.
"Albus?" said Professor McGonagall.
"Minerva," replied Dumbledore with a welcoming smile. "It is good to see you. I see you have brought everyone. Good morning, all.”
She openly frowned at the salutation. “Albus, the last we heard, you were carted off to parts unknown. I think we deserve more than a casual greeting. What happened?”
“Ah,” Dumbledore said, striding toward the Great Hall. “Therein lies a story, one best told over a plate of kippers, unless I miss my guess. My protein intake has been somewhat restricted of late.”
Frustration marred McGonagall’s face as she and the rest of the professors trailed after the elderly headmaster.
“I see that our teaching staff has doubled,” Dumbledore said conversationally as they progressed.
“It was unavoidable,” Minerva grumbled through gritted teeth. “We will be receiving an influx of students later today.”
“Change has reared its ugly head.” Dumbledore sighed. “It often does with annoying regularity.”
“I am surprised you haven’t planned for it,” Professor Snape said with just a hint of sarcasm.
“Ah, Severus my boy,” Dumbledore said without turning to address the man. “It has come to my attention that you have had a change of status since the last time we spoke. I understand that congratulations are in order.”
“Yes, thank you,” Severus said. “The break has been more eventful than I had anticipated.”
“You have been encouraged to socialize with Sirius Black, or so I hear.” Dumbledore mused, “I trust that wasn’t too stressful.”
“We have reached an accord.” Only an incredibly brave individual would have told Snape that his reply was sullen.
“Good. Good,” Dumbledore said. “It was past time you let go of that particular hatred.”
“I do not wish to discuss my personal life at this time,” Severus returned, “or ever.”
“Of course not,” Dumbledore said. “My boy, you have always been one for reclusiveness. Still, I wish you the best in your personal relations.”
“Albus!” Minerva blurted. “Where have you been? The board is breathing down my neck waiting for an answer to their demand!”
Dumbledore stopped before speaking with a regret-filled voice. “Ah yes. That was a hard decision, one I can’t say I appreciate, though I understand the underlying concerns.” He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “In the end, there can be only one answer; my place is here. As much as it pains me to say it; perhaps it is time to retire the old guard and let the new have its head where politics are concerned. There is little I could accomplish on that front. Fortunately, I still have some wisdom to impart on the hearts and minds of the next generation."
“Where have you been?” Minerva repeated.
Dumbledore sighed. “I was forced to take an unscheduled vacation.” The gathered professors shuffled at those words. “I had some long conversations with an individual who was concerned with my modus operandi. Yes, I do believe that is what they call it nowadays. Let’s just say that we also reached an accord”
“What kind of accord?”
“Ah, Miss Berrytwist,” Dumbledore said. “I see you have decided to stay in your equine form. I must say I do like your coloring. It does leave me wondering how you’d look with a black stripe running through your tail and mane. It would emphasize the whole dark and brooding aura you project.”
“I’m going to have to agree with Albus on that one,” Filius piped up, brandishing his wand. “Shall we find out?”
“Let’s not,” Berrytwist snarled.
“I think it would look good on you,” Septima opinioned.
“I think she looks just fine how she is,” Marcy said as she stepped between her roommate and the charms professor.
“I agree,” Goodman added.
“Such loyalty,” Dumbledore said. “Is this a new herd I see forming?”
Three people answered simultaneously.
“No,” said Berrytwist.
“Yes,” said Marcy
“Maybe,” said Goodman.
They shared a surprised glance with each other.
“Maybe?” said Berrytwist.
“No?” said Marcy.
“Yes?” said Goodman.
Septima said, "I'm sure they'll have everything sorted out long before the term is over."
"Are you willing to put your knuts where your mouth is?" asked Bathsheda.
Minerva could swear that Dumbledore flinched at that question.
Gesturing, Filius said, "I do believe Septima is missing something there."
Minerva could also swear that Dumbledore flinched at that assertion.
"Why is everyone looking at me like that?" asked Bathsheda. "Sybil has taken all our galleons."
Minerva could swear the Dumbledore had sighed in relief.
“Ah, young love.” Dumbledore smiled. “It’s always so refreshing.”
“You’re getting off topic,” Minerva said. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you disappeared only to reappear after all of the hard work has been completed.”
“I have faith that you all managed smartly without my interference,” Dumbledore said, continuing toward his plate of kippers. “Just as I have faith that we will all manage the new trials that we are surely destined to face in the near future.”
“Is he always so enigmatic?” asked the new muggle studies professor.
“Sadly, yes,” said Professor Snape.
“So, this is par for the course then?” concluded the muggle studies professor.
“What a strange phrase,” Septima said. “But I can infer that the answer is ‘yes’.”
“Yes, that is a peculiar phrasing,” Filius stated. “Where does it originate?”
“It refers to a relaxing game popular among us non-magicals,” replied the muggle studies professor. Smiling wistfully, he said, "There's nothing quite like breaking two paycheck's worth of equipment and throwing it in the lake."
“Are we just going to continue to ignore the fact that Albus just came waltzing back, smiling as if nothing has happened, after being kidnapped by individuals unknown?” Severus commented.
“You mean like we did for you?” Berrytwist asked.
“That is a valid point,” Filius added.
“Does that mean they took him for breeding purposes as well?” Goodman asked.
More than one professor shuddered at the thought.
“I’m afraid these old bones are past their prime.” Dumbledore chuckled. “Shall we hurry? I can hear something fishy desperately calling my name.”
Minerva scowled as she followed the headmaster to his waiting meal. He was obviously hiding something. She would find out what that was, no matter what it took.