//------------------------------// // Chapter 11: Travel Options // Story: Hazy Days and Magical Ways // by Dogger807 //------------------------------// The wind was a vampire, threatening to suck out every last bit of warmth. It was cloaked in a swirling white mask that reduced the world to two pony-lengths in every direction. The unending desolation would crush hope in all but the most foolhardy -- or the most determined. Mi Amore Cadenza was one of the latter. She was a mare on a mission. With Celestia as her witness, she would not fail. She had not come unprepared. Her entourage included the best cold weather specialists that Equestria had to offer. Using every trick at their disposal, they were able to guide her toward the sanctuary in the storm. Cadance smiled as she let her mind wander. She had her Shiny at her side and a multitude of support ponies at her back. She would make Auntie proud. Then, she would take a nice long soak in a hot bath. With hot chocolate. Lots of hot chocolate. Snuggling with Shiny. Nice warm Shiny. The fantasy was so captivating that she did not at first register the wall of magic. Her backside was still experiencing an unfettered blizzard while her front half had emerged into a pleasant spring day. The ravenous wind was replaced by a warm breeze. Fresh grass tickled hooves where there should have been snow over permafrost instead. The respite was enough to take one's breath away. In the distance, however, lay something far more remarkable. It was a city older than Celestia herself, a city made of crystal. Next to the pink princess, Shining Armor used a forehoof to lift the snow goggles from his eyes. “We have arrived,” he stated, awe in his voice. “It’s here.” Cadance breathed. “It’s really here. Auntie was right.” “I think I see ponies among the buildings,” Shining said, squinting as he shaded his eyes with a forehoof. “They’re back.” Cadance smiled. “That means the old king could be back as well.” Shiny reminded her with some hesitation. “Then it is time to do what is necessary,” Cadance said with steel in her voice. “The city must survive.” Shining replied, "I always knew you had the heart of a fighter." Cadence gave a grim smile. "The old Cadence would have been shaking in her hooves. The pink queen knows she can handle the black king." The Transfiguration classroom was now the exclusive domain of the Gryffindors. “It’s not fair.” Lavender crossed her arms in front of her chest, pouting fiercely. “Not fair?” Professor McGonagall scowled from where she was sitting behind her desk, having held the Gryffindors back after class. “I fail to see how holding you and your classmates to the same standards as the rest of the student body could be considered unfair.” “But we weren’t hurting anyone,” Dean spoke up. “In fact, we were providing pizza and things for everyone.” “Shall I consider that a confession?” Professor McGonagall asked. “In case you have forgotten, students are not allowed to leave school grounds unaccompanied. If a promise is required from your phoenix to halt that transgressions, then that is what shall be. Princess Celestia has already spoken to her on the subject, and it has been agreed that you shall have your wings clipped.” “Princess or not, anypony clipping my wings is dead,” Scootaloo snarled, taking a step backward as the rest of the herd closed ranks in front of her. Immediately, Professor McGonagall regretted uttering those words. “I was referring to your excursions with the help of Philomena," she said in a placating tone. "Children as young as yourselves should not be traipsing across the entirety of the United Kingdom unsupervised. It was a poor choice of words, I did not mean that literally, Miss Aloo.” “I did,” Scootaloo said. “If anyone gets anywhere near my wings with a pair of scissors . . .” “Miss Aloo!” Professor McGonagall snapped. “I shall not be spoken to in that tone of voice. Five points from Gryffindor.” Hastily, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle huddled with her and quickly exchanged whispers. The professor could have sworn she could see the air shimmering above the redhead. “I'm sorry, ma’am,” Scootaloo said contritely when she broke the huddle. “I just want to make it clear that my wings are off limits.” “Understandable,” Professor McGonagall said. “Now I suggest you and your friends head to your next class, before I am forced to find more reasons to take points away from my house.” “This sucks,” Seamus said as he followed his herdmates out of the classroom. Minerva sighed as she watched them go. Without a word, she took a muggle object out of her top drawer. Twilight had attached a small crystal to it so it would work in a magic-rich environment. After the professor pressed a small button on it, tiny numbers began counting up, marking the seconds as they passed. In a meeting room in an anonymous building in Whitehall, a meeting was taking place. “So,” said a nondescript man sitting at the head of the table, “what have we learned this week?” “Don’t eat Every Flavour Beans,” one of the other men immediately quipped. “Oh?” asked the man running the meeting. “Yes, petrol-flavored beans look just like licorice-flavored.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” “The cheesecake flavored ones are to die for,” said a third man. “Pity they are so small that they just leave you wanting more.” “I hardly think our time should be wasted discussing delicacies,” said the man in charge. “I suppose you don’t want to hear about cockroach clusters either then?” “I hope you’re joking,” pleaded someone further down the table. “Keep hoping.” “We are drifting off topic,” said the man in charge. “Actually,” said a woman in a smart business suit, “I have one more food-related item that may be pertinent.” “Please continue.” “Our little centaur is lactose intolerant,” the woman said. “The poor dear made a mess in the girl’s loo.” “I see.” A note was made on a conveniently-placed pad of paper. “How is she faring otherwise?” “She tolerates the attentions of the other students well enough,” the woman said. “Enjoys it even. Her friend, Miss Thomas, on the other hand, has refused to take pony form ever since her classmates started bringing bows to class. She is a little tomboy. The whole class is adapting as is the wont of small children. The novelty of having nonhumans in their midst is quickly dissipating. One discrepancy of note is also food-related. Licenta consumes about two times what her peers do, resulting in some jealousy when snack time rolls around. The other children can’t understand why she’s getting more than they are, and she is too willing to share -- well, with the exception of when we serve apple slices, anyway. This was easily rectified by using alfalfa sprouts to make up the extra mass. She considers them a treat.” “Good, good.” Another note was made. “I needn’t remind you that the wizards have reduced the centaurs to an endangered species, confining them to isolated locales. These people need our help, and the Queen means to see that they receive it.” “Of course, sir.” “What news of the elder daughter?” “She still hasn’t changed at school. She is much more reserved than her younger sister. We only have second-hand knowledge of her changing at her friend’s houses, confirming that she is a pegasus like her siblings, and most likely her mother.” “Any developments on the unicorn child?” The woman shook her head. “The neighbor remains our only witness to his or his mother’s true nature. He hasn’t been tempted by the alfalfa sprouts offered in his cafeteria but has shown a preference for both apple pie and apple strudel when it’s served. The only thing to mark him as anything other than a normal child is that he has informed his friends that he will be joining his cousin at Hogwarts next year.” “Have we ascertained how they are keeping their hair within the normal color spectrum?” “Sir,” another man answered for the woman, “our observer, who had a tour of Canterlot, has reported seeing several ponies with manes that would be unnoticed in the general population. It is safe to say that any ponies integrated into our society would have been chosen from those.” “That still doesn’t rule out the use of dyes,” another man noted, “or magic.” “We are too far behind the curve,” said the man in charge. “I want a way to conduct an accurate census of the ponies already among us.” Inside her herd’s tidy apartment, Nymphadora breathed a sigh of relief, glad to get away from the nightmare, if only for a little while. The cake was a lie. What was supposed to have been a casual lunch was instead an hour-long interrogation, and things had been no better when she had returned to her home. Things had picked up where they had left off when her tormentor had shown up at her doorstep the next day. Luckily, as she suffered the older griffin’s attentions, a polite knock had been a convenient excuse for a break. Steeling her nerves, she opened the door. "Hello?" she said when she looked down and saw a strange unicorn looking expectantly back at her. “Oh!” the unicorn broke out into a wide grin upon seeing the griffin answering the door. “You’re taking a form more compatible with your boyfriend.” “He’s not my . . . Mum?” “I would hope he’s not your mum.” The unicorn continued to grin. “That’s my job. Besides, I’m rather sure he’s the wrong gender.” “Mum? What are you doing here?” Nymphadora asked. “Can’t a mother visit her daughter?” Andi asked, waving her hoof down the hallway. “Besides, your father needs your help with something.” “What?” Nymphadora looked down the passage just in time to witness the notice-me-not spell being dropped, revealing Twilight and a changeling in its true form. “Hello dear,” the changeling said in her father’s voice. “I haven’t figured out the mechanics yet . . .” “Eeeeeeeeeeek!” The sound of retreating hooves could be heard further down the hallway. “. . . and that keeps happening,” Ted Tonks finished. “Your aunt is ecstatic over having a new source of love honey,” Andi confided. “I swear, she’s become addicted to the stuff.” “Who is it, Tonks?” Glados said, coming up behind the other griffin to have a look over her shoulder. “Tell them to go away; we’re not finished tweaking your look yet.” “Tonks?” Andi frowned. “Don’t tell me she’s got you calling her that. Her name is Nymphadora.” “Mum!” Nymphadora gave a full-bodied cringe. Glados tilted her head in thought. “Nymphadora? That's a lovely name.” “No!” Nymphadora muttered, taking several steps backward to allow her family in. “No, no, and no!” “It’s your name, dear,” Andi said, accepting the invitation. “Who is it?” Gordon asked, coming to stand next to Nymphadora in a vain attempt to shield her from his mother. “Hello, Gordon. I’m glad you’re here, I was afraid that I was going to have to have my daughter track you down.” Gordon’s head rotated sharply as he refocused on the unicorn leading two others into the apartment. “Mrs. Tonks? Er . . . Hello. It’s good to see you.” “Likewise.” Andi beamed. “You are Nymphadora’s mother?” Glados said, eyeing the unicorn. Then turning her head, she took in the sight of her son standing next to the hen she was grooming to be the perfect match. “Are we doing this?” she asked bluntly. “You’d better believe we are,” Andi replied, her smile somehow growing wider. “This isn’t good.” Gordon murmured as Nymphadora groaned. Grinning, Twilight asked, "Can you feel the love tonight?" Gordon and Nymphadora looked her in the eye. As one, they flatly said, "No." Open Book loved her job. Attending to the royal library was a reward unto itself, so much so that she almost felt guilty getting paid for it. She would have gladly given bits for the privilege. Giving a tour to a large group of foals was its own special kind of bliss. She loved helping ponies find the information they sought. It was a pity these foals were not going to access what they wanted, but the lesson wasn’t going to be wasted, and who knew? There may even be an aspiring mage among the bunch. That was not to say it wasn’t a peculiar assortment of foals. While mixed company wasn’t uncommon, there were actually two bat ponies in the mix, a rare sight indeed, not to mention the white owl that was riding on the back of the blue pegasus colt. “Here we go,” Open Book said to the foals. “But I’m afraid this is as far as we go today.” She pointed at the extravagantly carved door that barred their progress. “While it is laudable that you wish to know more about teleporting, it is knowledge that isn’t accessible by the general population.” “Laudable?” “She means commendable, Scootaloo.” “Commendable?” “Er . . . admirable.” “Well, why didn’t she just say so?” “Anyway,” Open Book continued. “You see, this door is a test. A simple test, yes, but a test nonetheless. One must have a basic understanding of magical theory to open it. Simple levitation will not work. However, once you’ve put in the time and effort, you’ll be able to access the books in the room beyond. It’ll take a lot of work, but I’m sure that a few of you will master the skills needed to . . .” “Alohomora.” *Click* “And I see one of you already has those skills.” Open Book held out her hoof to bar the progress of the rest of the foals even as she watched the fluorescent orange filly practically gallop into the next chamber. Open Book pulled the door shut with her magic. “I am sorry, but she will be the only one allowed to enter. It is a test for each individual not . . . What are you planning to do with that stick?” “Alohomora.” *Click* “Umm . . . What? How did you do that without a horn?” Open Book closed the door once again after watching an earth pony enter a place not normally accessible by a member of that tribe. “Well, that was unexpected. I think it might be a first. Honestly I’m not sure . . .” “Alohomora.” *Click* “Are you kidding me?” Once again, the door was pulled shut as Open Book turned to address the remaining foals. “Something's not . . . Oh, I see you all have sticks.” “Alohomora.” *Click* “I may not be the smartest mare, but even I can recognize a pattern.” “Bombar . . .” Several of the other foals quickly tackled the colt. “Seamus!” “What? I can’t let Dean be the only one with a cool fire-based cutie mark!” Open Book sighed, “Line up. Let’s keep this orderly.” One of the perks of being a prefect was having access to every room in the dormitory. Percy took full advantage of that to enter one of the twins' trunk unannounced. “I’m off to the village,” he called out, rapidly descending the stairs. “Dainty wanted me to ask if there was . . . What are you doing with Magah?” One of the twins turned to look at him. “The firsties asked us to keep an eye on her for a while. It seems she will let them out of her sight if we keep her occupied.” “That’s not what I meant,” Percy clarified. “What is she wearing?” “She likes playing dress up,” said the other twin. “And we need to practice our transfiguration,” finished the first. “Where’s the rest of it?” Percy asked. “Rest of what?” “Her outfit,” Percy said. “That’s it.” “Oh,” said Percy . . . . . . “We should probably feel guilty for this,” said a twin. “You really should,” said Percy. “But you have to admit that shade of blue looks good on her,” said the other twin. “Red!” demanded Magah. “Want red!” . . . . . . “We are going to get so much hate for this,” said a twin. “This is so wrong.” “So very, very wrong.” “We should be ashamed.” “So very, very ashamed.” “I’ll be right back,” Percy said. “I’m sure one of my roommates has a camera.” “Worth it!” chorused the twins. Soon after the sun had been put to rest and the moon called to do its duty, the royal sisters were enjoying some time together in the comfort of their private lunarium. Contentedly, they lay upon several overstuffed cushions as they traded stories about their duties. “Sister, dear,” Princess Luna asked during a lull. “We see that thou dost enjoy the company of thy pet tonight.” “Yes,” Princess Celestia acknowledged. “I thought it would be best for her to spend the night here. After all, the foals were just informed that she will not be spiriting them all over the countryside anymore. Hopefully, this will curtail any resentment.” “A wise precaution.” “Yes.” Princess Celestia nodded. “It is our hope that this will contain the Crusaders for a couple years at least.” “Thou were ever the optimist.” “They are but children.” Celestia chuckled. “Rambunctious, but they do have limits.” “We are looking forward to the day when should a problem arise, we can just point them at it and command them to fix it,” Luna confided. “'Fix' being a relative term,” Celestia said. “They shall discover the drawbacks of developing a reputation for doing the impossible,” Luna said wisely. “Still, while doing the difficult is impressive, I suspect that doing the impossible will take even them some time.” Celestia chuckled. “Where, on that scale, dost thou rank finding a new method of transportation?” “Don’t tell me that you are already buying into that reputation,” Celestia said as she spotted Raven Inkwell waving a hoof at her to get her attention. “Yes, Raven?” “Your highness,” said the unicorn. “I think this would be the proper time to inform you of a report I have received on several foals bypassing Oncoming Storm’s door in the library. The descriptions match some familiar faces, so it may be relevant to this conversation.” Celestia blinked at Raven a few times before turning her attention back to her sister. “That doesn’t mean . . .” “The basic treatises concerning teleportation are kept behind that door, are they not?” Luna interrupted. “True, but teleportation isn’t something you can look at the theory for and then poof, you’re off. We are still looking at a couple years' grace here,” Celestia countered. “There still does exist the question of how the clever little foals didst arrive at our library,” Luna reminded her. Celestia sighed, “Obviously, they owled themselves. Besides, you can go to any bookstore and purchase a tome on how to teleport. Oncoming Storm’s door really is rather useless if you stop to think about it.” “I disagree,” Luna said. “A pony must invest either time or money if they dost wish that knowledge. As to the difficulty of teleportation, we suggest a wager. If, by this time next week, one of their number hast a cutie mark declaring their competence in the art of teleportation, thou shalt return the bag of delectable chocolate covered espresso beans that Ambassador Heartstrings had gifted us and thou hast so rudely confiscated.” “One of their number with a . . . You have yourself a bet, and if your premonition does not come to pass, then I shall burn the sweets, and you shall not ask for replacements.” “Thou dost drive a hard and unfair bargain.” Luna pouted. “One bag verses a lifetime of deprivation. We detect disparity.” “Very well, if you win, not only will you receive the bag back, but I will never interfere with your acquisition of chocolate covered espresso beans again.” “Then, as we hast heard spoken, thou hast a deal.” “Shall we add my acquisition of fire whisky to the wager?” Celestia asked hopefully. “No.” “Luna,” Celestia whined. “That is hardly . . .” but that was as far as she got before there was a flash of green flames and she found herself with a faceful of human foal. After bouncing off the Princess of the Day, said foal landed on the pillows with a plop, only to stare up in shock. The princesses looked down and returned the favor. “Um,” the filly ventured. “April broke the rule about tickling a sleeping dragon.” The princesses continued to stare. “Am I dead?” the human foal asked meekly. “What in the name of Merlin is going on in here?” Professor McGonagall demanded as she entered the common room. She was met by the sight of the male students being cornered by the female students. There wasn’t a boy in sight who wasn’t sporting visible red welts. From the way the boys stood, it was obvious that they had received far more punishment than what was visible. “What’s the meaning of this?” “It’s just some basic instruction in proper behavior,” Fay growled. “Just some basic instruction?” Professor McGonagall said in disbelief. “I could hear the screaming all the way in my office. We are not barbarians. Surely your basic instruction could be performed without so many stinging hexes.” “Magah pretty!” “Good lord! What is she wearing?” Professor McGonagall gasped. “The boys were practicing their transfiguration.” Fay informed her. “Right.” Professor McGonagall turned to leave the same way she had come. “Carry on, then.” As she settled down behind her desk, the screams continued unabated. Just before she cast a silencing charm, Professor McGonagall heard the boys call out, "Still worth it!" The earth filly reread the letter recently delivered to her by an owl, gritting her teeth all the while. She was not a happy pony. Dear Dull Roar: My name is Fay Dunbar. I am a prefect for Gryffindor house. Let me begin by expressing my regrets that my first communication with you is under these circumstances. In fact, I would have considered the matter closed if not for a conversation with Apple Bloom. She has emphatically insisted that I write to you to inform of and explain a recent incident in my house. Apple Bloom has also assured me that there is no chance that you will not find this letter infuriating. For that, you have my apologies as de facto alpha mare. There has been a conflict between my responsibility to administer punishment and the rights afforded the Weasley twins by virtue of their membership in your herd, of which I have only recently been informed. According to Apple Bloom, I have unwittingly committed an atrocious breach of protocol with the recent punishment administered to the twins’ persons. Rest assured that no permanent damage was inflicted. Our school nurse promises that the welts will recede in a few days. They will not be healed earlier since Madam Pomfrey agrees that the punishment was warranted. I have been instructed to inform you that such corporal punishment is extremely uncommon and is almost unheard of in this day and age. However, the punishment was proportionate to the infraction. I fear I must put this into perspective. The majority of the male population of my house has also shared in the punishment. It is only the novel circumstance of herd agreements that compels me to write you on the subject. Apple Bloom has been very vocal over the cultural incongruity. She has gone so far as to promise to use me as a projectile if I so much as consider doing the same to one of her colts without informing her first. She has made it amply clear that it is her right and responsibility to deal with situations such as this for her herd. She also informs me that the same applies to you and the twins and that I should have contacted you to see that proper punishment was administered. I fear this is where cultural conflict comes into play. While, in your culture, I may have acted at levels worthy of a blood feud, in mine, I was well within boundaries. However, in this case, both cultures must be taken into account. That is why I am writing to offer a formal and sincere apology. It was not and is not my intention to initiate hostilities. It is my hope that we can come to a mutual understanding and move past this incident. Please let me stress that the twins have not taken permanent damage nor were they alone in receiving repercussions for their actions. In fact, I have already been in contact with Dainty Lace, as her stallion Percy was also involved. That meeting reinforced the importance of writing to you with all due haste. It is also why I take sole responsibility for the punishment administered; the other females were acting under my guidance. Again, I respectfully remind you that this is an unintentional cultural clash. I also remind you that the twins have grown up in and are familiar with the culpable culture. Let it be known that I have every intention to honor your customs and norms. No disrespect or insult was intended. I ask for your forgiveness and understanding. Please do not let this be a reason for conflict. Furthermore, I hereby pledge to contact you if a similar situation arises, prior to any punishment being administered. Yours sincerely, Fay Dunbar P.S. After having Apple Bloom proofread this letter, I must update my description from de facto alpha mare to a status similar to deputy sheriff’ A minor thing maybe, but it does highlight that there are cultural differences that we still have not uncovered. No, the filly was decidedly not happy as she reread the letter. The store clerk was not unfamiliar with famous people entering his store, let alone someone who had been dominating the airwaves recently. The one who entered his shop fit that category. It was a shock that she entered without any type of bodyguard or visible security of any sort. Still, she had an easygoing, friendly smile, marking her as someone he would love to get to know better. However, he was well aware that that wasn’t likely to happen. “Good evening, miss.” He smiled back at her. “How may I help you?” At his words, her smile only grew wider, proving that she wasn’t overwhelmed by her fame. “Hello,” she said. “I need ten pounds of chocolate covered espresso beans.” The clerk replied, "You're in luck." Gesturing to a neatly arranged stack of dainty baskets, he said, "We have a gift pack going for just under ten quid." Puzzled, the woman asked, "Quid?" "Pounds sterling." "I meant pounds in weight," said the woman. “Ten pounds?” he asked in shock. “Why on Earth would you need ten pounds of expresso beans?” “I never said anything about Earth.” She ran her hand through her distinctive aqua and white hair. “Sybill just sent me a letter saying that I was going to need to send them to Equestria for the next solar flare.”