//------------------------------//
// Ch. 27. Change is on the Horizon 
// Story: If Wishes Were Ponies, Book II 
// by tkepner 
//------------------------------//

Albus made himself comfortable in the private dining room at the Three Broomsticks. His appointment should be arriving at any moment. He had arrived several minutes early so he would have time to settle himself and review what he needed to accomplish. 

It was a rather delicate matter.

He did not have to wait for long. Soon, Rosemerta opened the door and ushered in his guest. The witch she brought in was obviously nervous and unsure of why she had been invited to have lunch with the great Albus Dumbledore. Of course, she had met with him before, in the Ministry. But that was usually in his official capacity as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Lately she had met with him as Headmaster of Hogwarts, in meetings along with Ludo Bagman, head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and her boss.

She had changed from the slightly plump girl she had been in Hogwarts, and was now a slim young witch. The surly girl he had seen had changed a bit, although the surly part might have been because she was complaining to him about various situations in Hogwarts, at the time.

She had had a reputation of not being very bright, and very nosy. Sirius remembered her and had told him, “She was a few years above me, but I still had a few run-ins with her. She was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. She was constantly complaining about one thing or another. Especially things she had in which she had reason to involve herself!” The wizard had shaken his head ruefully. “If she had kept her nose out of other peoples’ business, she wouldn’t have had half the problems she did.”

Which pretty-well matched his own recollections of the witch.

Her reputation, now, of being forgetful was something she had not been in school. He hadn’t noticed it himself, but a few casual conversations over the last few weeks with some of his more approachable graduated students in the Ministry had confirmed the change. That was not a good sign, based on what he had been told by the Princess.

Standing, he swept his arm towards the chair opposite his. “Good day, Bertha,” he said jovially. “It is good to see you, again. How have things been for you in the Ministry?”

She gave him a nervous look and patted her right hand on her hair. “Oh,” she said quietly, “Quite well.” Then she frowned. “But I seem so forgetful, lately.”

“Ah, yes,” he said consolingly, “It comes from being overburdened. You have so many things to keep track of that you’re bound to let a few slip by.” He settled back down as she took her seat. He didn’t look at his menu, instead giving the waiting Rosemerta a plowman’s platter order. “The fish broth is quite good,” he gently suggested. “I found it very filling, the other day.”

She gave the menu a quick scan, then said, “I’ll just have the fish and chips, please.”

Rosemerta closed the door with a promise to return shortly.

Albus smiled at the still nervous witch. “There’s nothing, really, to worry about, my dear,” he said. “I just wanted to get your impressions on how the Tri-wizard Tournament is shaping up. I thought this might be a more relaxing venue, where we wouldn’t be interrupted. When I’m at the Ministry, people just can’t seem to stop themselves from seeking me out.”

She stared at him, blinking. “The French seem to be in favour it, the Bulgarians are a bit more reserved,” she said cautiously.

He asked questions about the Tournament, her interactions with other witches and wizards in the Ministry, and some of her conversations with the foreign Ministries. He probed her surface thoughts lightly with his legilimens ability, listened carefully, and compared her answers with conversations he had had in the Ministry with the same people. Several times he had to prompt her response, or correct a detail here and there. They had finished their meals and were just talking when he said, “When you first started working the Ministry, you were moved around through several departments, correct?”

She nodded, “Yes, it was quite confusing at times. Sometimes I mixed up which department I belonged to, and who the head was!” She shook her head ruefully. 

He nodded understandingly. “Yes, I’m rather familiar with that problem. My Chief Warlock aides seem to change every time I walk into the Wizengamot.” Watching carefully, in several meanings of the word, he said, “At one time you worked in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, with Bartemius Crouch, Senior, correct?”

She blinked rapidly, but nodded and took another drink of her butterbeer.

“Did you ever have cause to visit him at his home?”

She cocked her head sideways, and frowned. “I want to say yes, but . . . I can’t recall ever doing that.”

He caught a brief flash of her standing in front of a Ministry floo with a folder-full of parchments, then stumbling out without them. Then it was gone.

“No,” she said more firmly. “I’ve never been to his house. I did have some urgent parchments, once, but he came to the Ministry before I could go looking for him.”

In her mind was the stern visage of Bartemius, very angry, almost in a rage, his wand in his hand at his side.

He asked a few more questions, but felt he had enough evidence to proceed. He sighed sadly. He said, “Now, Bertha, I have something a bit more personal to ask you.”

Her relaxed state vanished rapidly. “Yes?” she said nervously, picking up and putting down her utensils, then taking a sip of her butterbeer.

“A friend of mine has heard a rumour that you might have been obliviated of something, several years ago. She fears that your apparent forgetfulness, today, is merely a side-effect of that.”

She gave him a horrified, disbelieving look.

“And, I must say,” he continued, “That some of the things you’ve said today seem to support that.” He paused. “I remember how you were in Hogwarts, and you weren’t nearly as forgetful as you are now.”

He gave her a steady look. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but with this Tri-wizard coming up, it’s better to be safe than to take a chance on such a serious allegation from one of the foreign Ministries derailing everything.”

She mutely nodded, eyes wide.

“I am a quite accomplished legilimens,” he said soothingly. “Rather than make a big deal out of what is probably nothing, may I take a quick look at your memories to see if there’s anything that isn’t as it should be?”

She stared a moment longer. “Is it really necessary?”

He stroked his beard. “Yes, my dear, I truly think this is the best way to handle the situation. I promise not to look at anything personal, only the issue as it was described to me.”

She stared at him a bit longer, then blinked. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Well, if you truly think it is necessary . . .,” she said reluctantly, her voice trailing off.

He nodded.

After another few moments thinking about it, she said, “All right.” She nodded and straightened herself in her chair. “Let’s do this. What do I do?”

He smiled gently. “Just relax, and stare into my eyes. Don’t think of anything special, just let the memories come as they may.”

She closed her eyes, took another deep breath, then let it out. She opened her eyes. “Okay,” she said quietly.

His wand was in his right hand, under the table. “Legilimens,” he said softly. He pulled gently on that image of the stern Bartemius with his wand at his side. The first few images were of the wizard in his office, in meetings, greeting her and dismissing her at the end of the day, and a myriad of others. However, every time the stern, very angry visage started to appear, it dissolved. However, there was enough to the image that he could get the impression of a non-Ministry location. While Barty had been angry with her before, regarding details of Ministry business, they had always been in the Ministry. That particular memory was not.

He slowly withdrew and looked out the lone window in the room that overlooked the street in front of the inn.

He reached inside his cloak and handed her the small potion bottle. “For your headache, my dear,” he said, contemplating what he had seen and what he should do next.

“I am afraid,” he said gravely, “That it appears you were memory charmed.”

She burst into tears.

He smiled. “However, I don’t think it was for any nefarious reason regarding yourself. I think you just happened to witness something you weren’t supposed to see and someone decided that an obliviation was the proper course of action.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, they were not a master Obliviator, and therein lies the root of your forgetfulness.

She looked a little relieved, as she wiped her tears away with her hands.

“While I’m an accomplished legilimens,” he said regretfully, “I am not a Master of the craft.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “However, Professor Snape is. I would like for him to give me his professional opinion, if you don’t mind?”

She gave a slow, hesitant nod.

“In the interests of keeping this out of the public eye,” he said consolingly, “and to not warn the perpetrator of our suspicions, I think we should handle this at Hogwarts. Should my suspicions prove true, Madam Pomfrey can call for any Healers she needs and maintain your privacy.”

“But . . .,” she said hesitantly, “I need to return to the Ministry, there is so much to do!”

“Yes,” he agreed, “There is much to do, but in my opinion, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, getting this settled is of higher importance.” He slowly stood. “I will notify Ludo that I have need of your services for the rest of the day.” He paused. “If longer is needed, we shall say you are in Bulgaria, dealing with an unexpected problem for the next week.”

He escorted her out of the room, and they set out for Hogwarts. He decided that while Poppy was getting a proper Healer to look at Bertha, he would inform Amelia that he was issuing a search warrant for Barty’s place. He would tell her that she needed to conduct the raid, herself, and to take a team with her. The details would be in the warrant that Barty was concealing someone or something important in his home, perhaps under an invisibility cloak.


^·_·^


“We don’t really have a choice, do we?” said Sir Walker, the Director General of MI5. “We have to contact the ling. That the ling is obviously entrenched on the wizarding side is unfortunate. Our Special Technology people have given us no signs that the wizards are aware of the ling, at all. Neither has either the wizarding government, nor Dumbledore,” he said glumly.

He huffed morosely. “That ling has been inordinately well-behaved and hidden.” He unhappily shook his head.

Castor shrugged. “The changelings did manage to hide from the Equestrians for well over a thousand years.” He shook his head wryly. “That means they do have more than a little talent at blending in and being invisible while in plain sight when they need to be. It’s probably instinctive, by now.” He sighed.

“If we can bring her into our control, however, that will solve our problem, won’t it?” he said. “Plus, with her being well-established in the wizarding world, no one will suspect her of being an agent for us. She could be invaluable to us, in that respect, keeping an eye and ear on the wizards and what they are up to.”

“And we can’t flood the area with agents as she would be able to pick them out of the crowd by their non-typical feelings for the setting,” his superior said glumly.

“We wouldn’t even know she had come close before she ran,” Castor said, nodding. “It has to be all above-board with one contact ling — no other agents of either species. Not even at a distance, because we don’t know how far her emotional reach is, nor which direction she will come from.”

Patrick gave a slow nod. He didn’t like the situation they were in, but they really didn’t seem to have any other choices.


^·_·^


Elly was in a bit of a quandary. She had finally narrowed down the identity of the discordant student. The problem was, how could she convince anyone that something was wrong? She had conclusive proof that the student in question was under some kind of mental control from someone, but it was proof only acceptable to a ling.

The four lings had just finished the fourth-year spells and were getting books from the library to start fifth-year. * With access to Elly’s hive mind — a wonderful resource for storing and sharing information — the three first-year lings didn’t have to research their assignments, just query the hive-mind and it would offer up what was known on the subject that Elly had already researched. The more one concentrated on a subject, the more material that became available. It saved them hours of work every day. They still listened in to their classmates conversations, of course, in case someone found something new. But still, a great time saver.

That freed them to work on the new second-year spells, with each tackling a different spell. As a result, they had finished the second-year spells by mid-October, and third-year spells by Christmas, with the fourth-year taking until now. Once they completed the seventh-year curriculum, they would concentrate on becoming masters at the spells they knew they would need for instant casting.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t learned any spells capable of detecting mind magic. At present, it was all theory.

Which was why she was standing outside the door to Professor Lockhart’s office. He had probably forgotten more spells than the lings knew, and still readily knew far more than they did. Plus, being a very famous, incredibly flamboyant, and an adult, he would distract the attention from her when the story came out. After all, which was more likely — that a student detected a possession? Or the Professor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts?

From what Hermione had discovered, he was probably a fake. However, based on what the older Hufflepuffs said, he was still a good improvement over some of the DADA professors they had had in the past. 

Elly could certainly say he was an improvement over last year’s professor, that was for sure!

It was rather sad that a fraud was better Professor than someone who was actually competent in the subject!

All she had to do was convince Lockhart to take action. Considering his fame for being an adventurer, and loving being the centre of attention so much, it shouldn’t be that difficult.

“Come in! Come in,” came the cheerful response to her hesitant knock.

The professor was at his desk. He was autographing pictures for his fans, judging by the two stacks of photographs on either side of him. He set the photograph he had just finished signing onto the bigger of the two stacks. 

For a fraud, he worked quite hard, not even slacking off over the Easter holidays. If only he put that much effort into the DADA, he could be the best teacher for the DADA that Hogwarts had had in the last twenty years.

He tasted of happiness and mild curiosity.

He was, as always, it seemed, immaculately dressed in baby-blue robes, with his hair perfectly coiffed, and just the barest traces of makeup highlighting his best features. He grinned happily at her. “What wonderful timing! You’re just in time, Miss De Ripp, for one of my new personalized photographs!” He pulled a photo from the smaller stack, signed it with a dramatic flourish of his favourite ostrich quill, and held it out to her.

She took it and simpered as she had observed the older witches do when the Professor gave them his undivided attention. “Thank you, professor,” she gushed, and admired the photo as if it were something precious instead of just a piece of paper. “I don’t know what to say!”

The photograph was of the professor standing in a dramatic pose with a unicorn foal at his feet, as if he were protecting the small horse that barely reached his waist, horn included. The filly was looking up at him in wonder, with Hogwarts in the background. It was really quite stunning, in fact. The professor looked down at the unicorn with a loving smile, then gazed fiercely off the photograph as if something were threatening the foal. The filly looked up at him, amazed, then gazed at the castle for a moment, before returning to him.

Elly wondered who had doctored the photograph for the man, as she knew the foal would have bolted for freedom the moment he came with her sight. All unicorns, here, did that when adult wizards or witches approached, she had been told. Only the presence of virgins was tolerated, and certain other individuals such as Hagrid.

Colin had probably taken the photograph when the Equestrian unicorns had smuggled the filly inside the castle earlier in the school year. With a copy of the negatives from him, and a skilled developer, it wouldn’t have been difficult to merge the picture of Lockhart in front of the castle with the one of the filly staring in wonder at the sparks the unicorns had been casting with their horns to entice it into following them.

“That’s perfectly alright, my dear. It is a rather spectacular picture of me, I have to admit. I dare say, you’ll be the envy of your dorm when you come in with that!” He paused a moment to gift her with one of his award-winning smiles. “You can tell everyone that they are available for only fifteen knuts each! A special deal for students of Hogwarts only.” He pulled another photo off the pile, signed it with a flourish, then looked back up at her. “Was there something else I could help you with? Did you have a question on any of my books?”

She looked at him, and bit her lower lip lightly, as if indecisive. “Well, you see, professor, I’m a bit worried about one of our classmates.” She hesitated. “He’s been acting strange.” she paused, then hurriedly said, “That is, one moment he’s acting normal, then the next he’s acting in a way very unlike normal, then he acts normal, again.” The professor was tasting, feeling, more of caution and doubt.

The professor gave her a condescending smile. “All of the students in Hogwarts are at that age where their perceptions and reactions to those of the opposite sex, and sometimes the same sex, are undergoing dramatic changes as they get older. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong,” he said in a conciliatory tone. He pulled another photo from the unsigned stack.

She shook her head quickly. “No, that’s not what I mean.” She paused again. “It’s whenever he’s around Mr. Potter, you see.  He looks at Mr. Potter, he gets a really odd expression, like he’s about to fly into a rage, then he’s suddenly calm, and he ignores Harry. Then, a bit later, the whole sequence repeats.”

Lockhart gave her a disbelieving look. He was clearly perplexed and wary. And interested now that Harry had been mentioned. The feeling of greed began to edge into his emotions.

“Well, you see, it reminds me of what happened at the end of last year — did anyone tell you about that? Someone cast the imperio on a student, and kidnapped Mr. Potter with the intent to kill him. And this classmate . . . well he’s acting a bit like that student did back then. Erratically, I mean.” She stopped and liked her lips nervously. “It turned out the wizard who cast the imperio on the student was possessed by an evil spirit.”

Lockhart leaned back in shock. “Possessed? Imperio?” His emotions were in turmoil, with hint of greedy anticipation.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “You can ask the Headmaster for details, if you want, or even Professor McGonagall. He’ll explain everything to you.” She nodded earnestly, and continued. “So, is there a spell that you can cast to check for that? Check to see if someone is possessed or under an imperio?”

The professor had a very thoughtful expression. “Hmm,” he said softly. There was more than a bit of greed in the mix of his emotions. He blinked. “Yes, yes, there is.” 

“Oh, good,” she said, acting relieved. 

He took a deep breath and looked at her. “But it is far out of your current capabilities, so I won’t try to teach you,” he said firmly.

She shuddered. “While it might be nice to know, I’m not about to confront a possibly violent fellow student!” She paused. “But don’t take my word for this,” she warned. “I could be, as you suggested, mistaken.” It was her turn to take a deep breath. 

“You should watch how Mr. Goyle reacts in the Great Hall at meals when Mr. Potter is there. Especially when he’s at the Slytherin table and sees Mr. Potter come in. It might not happen that first time, but I’m sure if you watch him for a few days, you’ll see what I mean.”

She suddenly straightened up as if she had had an idea. “You know . . . you could come up with an excuse to cast the detection spell by bringing up Voyaging with Vampires.” She could see he was intrigued at her idea. She could taste his greed rising as she enticed him into her plot. “You could demonstrate the spell on a couple of students and “accidentally” select Mr. Goyle as one of the targets! That way, if all this is my imagination, no one will suspect a thing is out of the ordinary! No one will be able to criticize you for suggesting something was wrong when it wasn’t. It would just be something you were doing as a part of the class.”

She could feel his excitement growing as he listened.

“If I’m right,” she went on, “then Mr. Potter will owe you quite the favour, won’t he?” She bounced happily on her heels. “And because you’ll be prepared, if Mr. Goyle is possessed, you’ll be able to subdue him before he has time to react.” She grinned happily. “The Headmaster will be delighted with you!”

She gasped, then said, “Oh, oh!” excitedly. “I bet this would make a great book for you, how you saved Mr. Potter from an evil plot! I bet, I bet, with both of you in it, the incomparable Gilderoy Lockhart and the Boy-Who-Lived, it would be a bestseller! It would put all of your other books to shame!”

His eyebrows shot up.

She had him, she could tell. She buried the urge to grin.

She put on a pleading expression. “Oh!” she exclaimed hesitantly. “But please don’t tell anyone I came to you!” with bit of begging in her voice.

He gave her a startled look.

“Well, after what happened last year, I don’t want people to think I’m stalking Harry.” She made herself blush. “I only happened to notice, that’s all.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “He’s nice and all, I don’t want to cause problems with his . . . herd-mates, as he calls them.” She forced a deeper blush.

A slow grin stole across his face and he gave her a smirk. “I understand, my dear. Ah, to be young again and in love!” He clapped his hands together and adopted a dreamy look.

“Oh!” she said quickly, almost tripping across her words, “I’mnotinlovewithhim! . . . He’s not nearly as impressive as you!” She clapped her hands across her mouth as if she had said something she regretted saying out loud.

He smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Oh, of course, Miss De Ripp. But give the boy a few years, and I’m sure he’ll give me a run for my money, should he so choose.” He paused. “But I assure you that I’ll keep your assistance private. No one shall ever know what you’ve confided in me.”

“Thank you, thank you,” she said gratefully. She sighed happily. After a moment spent staring at each other, she said, “Well, I best be going.” She turned and started for the door. She couldn’t believe how easy that had been.

However, just as her hand touched the doorknob, she heard the word, “confundus” come from behind her, then “obliviate.”

Elly’s hand on the doorknob to leave Professor Lockhart’s office helped her keep her balance as she swayed slightly. She felt something change, and the last few minutes became a blur. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a voice said, “You don’t need to worry about your classmate, Miss De Ripp. Enjoy your new autographed photo, and be sure to tell everyone they are available at a special Hogwarts discount of only fifteen knuts!”

She shook her head to clear it of the fog that seemed to be there. Yes, that was why she had come to the professor’s office, to tell him of her suspicions about Goyle. But the boy wasn’t really a problem, as the Professor had said. He might be a bully, but he wasn’t anything she needed to worry about. She had been spooked for no real reason.

Plus, he had given her this wonderful autographed picture of himself and a unicorn foal!

“Thank you, professor, I shall treasure it forever!” she said enthusiastically.

Out in the hall, when she met with her lings and started to their dorm, the other three went into an uproar. Seconds later, she knew that the Professor had just tried to erase her memory. He had taken everything following his statement, “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong,” after she had first expressed her doubts about a classmate. 

His assurance that, “No one shall ever know what you’ve confided in me,” was certainly true! Not even she would have remembered!

That the shared hive-mind had protected her memory was not as surprising as it felt. After all, now that there were four of them in close proximity, it was the sum total of all their experiences. Normally, unimportant details in their shared hive-memory would be discarded after a day. 

However, with them just a few steps away in the hall, waiting, they had felt him tugging at her memory. He would have had to obliviate all of them for the hive-memory to be affected.

The professor’s actions threw everything they had thought they knew about him into discord. The only reason they could come up with for his actions was that he intended to do something about the situation. When he did act, he wanted everyone to think he had acted alone, that he had been the cautious, suspicious one — as a good DADA professor should be!

Unless he was in collusion with the one controlling Goyle. She doubted it, though. She knew he wasn’t the pulling the strings of the puppet, his emotional reactions would have been completely different. He had been surprised, but not alarmed at her for discovering a possible plot. His primary feeling at the moment he cast those spells had been greed.

She almost went into a rage at what he had done, but she knew she needed him to take care of this problem. She wouldn’t retaliate until later. Maybe she could subvert him to her advantage? Her trainers in the hive had made it quite clear that blackmail could be an important part of infiltration, giving a ling powerful protection in pony society. 

In the meantime, she would make sure she and her siblings were never alone with the untrustworthy wizard. She would warn a few others to be careful in his presence. Currying further favour with the Potter herd could be useful. She might never need it, but should she, then it would well worth the effort.

In addition, she had to consider how rapidly he had reacted to her suggestion that he take credit for discovering the threat to Harry. He had obviously done such things before. How many of his adventures in the books were stolen?

The four spent the next day looking up and practicing the obliviate and confundus hexes. The three new lings didn’t yet have the familiarity with magic, nor, apparently, the power and focus needed for the obliviate. However, the confundus was another story. That spell made the victim confused, befuddled, overly forgetful, and prone to follow simple orders without thinking about them.

The four had great fun making each other do silly things. Surprisingly, Elly had the most resistance to the spell, and recovered the fastest. Then Elly would practice the obliviate to make them forget what they had done. By the time the train arrived a few days later, after sundown, Elly expected to be reasonably proficient in both spells. Collectively, though, they intended that she become more than simply proficient!

They wanted her to be as accomplished in the skill as their wayward Professor, if not better. 

If she became adept enough, then she could reverse a simple obliviate. She needed that skill. The fate of her hive might depend on it! It would take a lot of practice, though.

Fortunately, there were a lot of students in Hogwarts. None of whom would miss a few minutes out of their day, every once in a while.

In the meantime, however, the four would take a very close look at their professor’s books. She wanted to see if they could gain any insight into his true character by comparing what he wrote with what they had seen in the classroom. Just how many of his actions were a façade?


^·_·^