I fell onto the bench in the great hall, not quite panting, but also lacking enough energy to get angry and just burn the whole castle down. That would have been how a wizard would have dealt with this.
The whole day, showing returning and new students around, had been tiring—but also exciting. After two years at Hogwarts, I was finally well-known for who I was and not something my parents had done.
The professors had all been waiting in their various rooms, and as I led around a third group of ten students, one had asked Professor Sparks what her class on offensive magic was going to be about.
"Fire," I said, tasting the word and feeling excitement start to push back at the lethargy of the day. It also served as a wake-up call to another of my hungers. First I set my glasses down, then jumped to my hooves, looked around to get my bearings, and slipped under the table then over a row of benches to get into the fireplace.
I let my anger boil. I glared at the small fire consuming the logs already and spat a curse at them—burning them up in seconds—then spent the next ten minutes stomping around in a circle and letting my own fire replace the wood as heating for the room.
That's when I glanced up and saw her standing there, looking at me in confusion. Draco Malfoy.
Anger, though, was the last thing I wanted to let target anyone when I was like this. Shaking my head and banishing what little fury was left by sending a plume of flame up the chimney and out into the Crystal Empire sky, I let normalcy reassert itself. "Malfoy."
The worst bit was I admired what she was doing. Like me, she'd embraced being a pony. She'd even defied being a Slytherin.
Looking back at me, Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Potter?" A moment after it left her lips, she looked a little surprised by it.
"Nothing. I just—I just thought it odd you left Slytherin when they're having so much trouble."
"Yeah? Well, it turns out that when your family is rich and comfortable, they don't tend to want to go to a new world where they won't be either. That's what my father said. I guess there is an advantage to being a poor mud-blood." She turned away from me a moment after my fire flared again.
I wanted to scream at her and tell her she was being a git. That we should all work together and protect each other—My flames sputtered out, though, when I realized how I felt about her. Just being around her got me angry.
"Harry? Are you okay?" Another feminine voice this time, and one I knew better. Turning, I saw Hermione looking at me.
"Yeah. Just hadn't gotten enough anger out today." Shaking to get most of the ash off my hooves, I bounced out of the fireplace just as a house-elf started setting a fresh fire in it. "Sorry," I said to them.
The house-elf shrugged at me, lit the fire, and vanished again.
"Do you think they'll ever turn into ponies?" I asked Hermione.
"Harry…"
"Huh?" I looked up at Hermione, trying to figure out what she was upset about. Witches, I had learned, were about as predictable as a quidditch snitch.
Huffing out a breath, Hermione narrowed her eyes at me, not saying a word. This meant I was probably not going to be able to get to talk to her for a few days unless I answered just right. Okay, let's try not lying. "Sorry, I just get really worked up every now and again and—We haven't really figured out how to stop, so I just need to spend some time really angry each day."
"Oh." She looked and sounded surprised. Did it work? "Sorry, Harry, in all this—this—I kinda lost track of everything going on in everyone else's lives. How is—err—how are you taking this kirin thing?"
I did it? I did it! Wow, either I got better at this, or I was just really lucky. "It's a bit surreal. All the unicorns can do magic with their horns to pick things up and stuff, but when I try it, things just catch on fire. It's like every spell I do now wants to be fire unless I tell it not to."
She seemed to reassert her normal self. "Well, if that's how magic is now, that's how it is. Are you excited to try the new classes? I know I want to try some of that new Transfiguration teacher's spells. She said a lot of her abilities are just part of her, but I think she has to be lying about that. It wouldn't work unless she wasn't fully human, and I know you're going to say that no witch or wizard is pure human, but that's not what I mean and you know it."
Forget everything I just thought, witches are still crazy and I was probably just lucky. I nodded to her, then shook my head, as seemed right to do. Rescue finally came by way of Addera slithering up to us and then around us so that she had us both kinda trapped.
"Hello, Harry Potter. Are you prepared for dinner?" Addera asked.
I shuffled sideways and leaned my head against her pony body. It was always such a relief to have Addera around. Even back in Ponyville, some days just went so poorly that I couldn't wait until I could curl up in her coils and let her be between me and the world. Learning that everything I touched with magic from my horn caught fire was one such. "Yeah. Didn't you eat yesterday?"
"I did, but I have been trying to keep myself to smaller meals. Using magic more often helps with that, Harry Potter, since I can burn up a lot of energy that way." She turned in a circle quickly, gathering her tail around just the two of us and then picked me up with the very end of it balanced under my hooves. "It means I can spend more time with you and your friends."
Hermione interrupted, saying, "We should probably take our seats. There aren't as many Gryffindor students now, but the newer students came in first and we need to get seats behind them."
"Behind?" Addera asked.
"They'll have the sorting ceremony. It's important to leave room at the front for first-years." In full instructor mode, Hermione seemed happier. "Then Prof—Headmistress McGonagall will call them up one by one, put the hat on them, and see what it says."
Addera set me into a comfortable coil of her body and then followed Hermione to the bench—well back from the front. "That seems inefficient. Why not use many hats, Hermione Granger?"
"There's only one sorting hat. It's a rite of passage for new students to be sorted, and the hat is good at creating the right amount of pomp and pageantry for such an event. It will be odd not to have Dumbledore here for it." Taking her seat, Hermione seemed so much bigger now—though she had shrunk a little, it was more a case of me having shrunk a lot.
"When does the food come out?" Addera asked.
"We wait until after the sorting," I said, finding a nice cozy coil to sit on.
And that's when the flood came. A rush of students that seemed to fill the great hall poured in, only to filter out as the new ones, few though they were, crowded to the front and the older students shifted back to the benches.
It shouldn't have been surprising that most of the new students didn't have any signs of becoming a pony, they shouldn't even have wands yet, let alone be casting spells. That was true, at least, for the human ones. Looking proud as could be, four pony foals were standing at the front with the new students—all of them unicorns.
"So, what do you think, Harry?" Fred asked as he inched closer to me. "Which house do you think gets the most?"
"Are you taking bets?" I asked.
"What? Me? Of course not, harry." Fred gestured to George.
George, who was balancing a bunch of little coins on his hoof, looked over at me. "Taking bets is my job this time. How many will I put you down for?"
"Including the ponies?" I asked, and got a nod. "Make it seven." Reaching into my pack, I pulled out one of the smallest coins I had, a gold bit, and flicked it to George.
The bits were a gift from Twilight, and while I didn't want to just give them away, a gold bit wasn't worth much.
"A gold one!" George turned it over on his hoof. "How much is this worth, 'Arry?"
I snorted. "Their currency is all messed up here, George. Gold coins are almost worthless. It's the big disks of aluminium that are the biggest value." When he stared at me like I'd gone crazy, I nodded. "It's true."
"Here they go," Fred said.
Ron, for all his brothers being really excited about the sorting, was staring at his wand. He still didn't have a new one, his brother's old one (that Charlie had actually made himself) sat on the bench before him.
"Hey, Ron, you're still using Charlie's wand?" I asked him.
"Yeah. It likes me, I like it, and Mum helped me learn a few things it's really good at. Willow, they say, is really good at doing healing magic." He lifted out a little bottle of oil and a cloth, then set to work polishing the gnarled and irregular wand.
"Willow is also good for protective magics." Hermione looked far more in her element, what with getting to correct Ron on something.
"Of course it is. That's why I'm going to focus on brawling and magic spells to help me get close. That way I can just thump a wizard with a brick or something." Reaching into his coat, I saw Ron pull out half a brick and set it on the table. Then he pulled out a weighted beater bat with his hoof. "I've been practicing with Fred and George. They know all the—"
"… right and—" George said.
"… wrong places—" Fred said.
Ron smirked and nodded to his older brothers. "… to hit someone. It mostly translates to ponies, too, but I've had to talk to the guards at the palace."
Hermione looked horrified. She turned away from our conversation—the sorting being more interesting to her.
"Well, I guess I'd rather be hit on the head and wake up later than have someone use a memory charm on me. But still, Ron, how is that going to help you against other wizards and witches? Or anything magical for that matter?" I asked.
Ron tilted his chin up in the display he always got when he had done something he was actually proud of. "Ask Ginny. I've been getting her help to get used to resisting and countering spells."
"Where is—?" was as far as I got before Fred pulled out Ginny's diary. A moment later Ginny manifested herself and sat down beside me. "Hi, Ginny."
"Hello, Harry." She looked both odd and familiar at the same time. It was definitely Ginny's voice and her outline, but there was little but drawing lines making up where her body should be. "Thanks for reminding Fred."
"I'm—That is—" I stopped to take a breath. There was something good about having this group back together. Ginny hadn't been part of us as a group long, but she was a Weasley through and through. "It's good to have us all back together."
"You wouldn't believe how often Ginny had been asking about you," Ron said.
"Ron!" Ginny's shout echoed around the great hall in a moment of silence.
A throat-clearing followed it, then the gravely voice of the sorting hat said, "Ron. Ronald Weasley. Perhaps I should have put you in Slytherin?"
Laughter echoed through the great hall. Even the Slytherins themselves laughed. Ron seemed like he wanted to bury his face under the table.
Ginny smirked at him, but turned her attention back to me. It was odd, though, I noticed the linework of her form seemed a little pinker. Then it dropped back to almost-black. "It's odd, though. In the book, when I go to class, it's all Tom's memories of Hogwarts, so I have to keep going to all the stupid Slytherin meetings and common room."
"I bet that's weird, Ginevra Weasley." Addera kept facing the front, watching the sorting progress. "Have you learned any insights as to why Draco Malfoy would have left Slytherin?"
"I didn't really—I mean, if he has a brain-cell between his ears, he'd get out of there just to not have to deal with them." Ginny seemed so certain of that I couldn't help from grinning.
"I take it you don't fancy spending time there either?" I asked.
Ginny's snort seemed so like her old self I could forget that it had come from a magic construct. "All I can say is it is a lot of fun when I practice dueling against them."
"You enjoy beating them up, Ginevra Weasley?" Addera asked.
"It—A little. Whenever I'm not dueling against them, they're plotting things against me, or rather they're plotting against Tom. Also, they're not real. I can beat them up and it's the same as punching a sack of grain." Shrugging her shoulders, Ginny actually managed to look confused about the line of questions—her head was tilted a little to the side and she'd crossed her arms.
Fred Weasley looked through his notepad and smirked. "'Ave a gander at this." He showed the page to George, whose face lit up just as wide as his own. "Not a single one bet five."
"You heard what 'Arry said, right? Aluminium's worth more'n gold here." George pulled out the gold coins he'd thought had made him rich and grumbled as they rolled back down his hoof and back into his little pouch. "Lucky we didn't bring any galleons, eh?"
"Is silver worth anything? I got a lot of sickles. Easier to move than galleons an' all that." Reaching back to his own coinbag, Fred felt the weight of it. "We should have somethin' quick and head back. Don't want to miss a chance to teach the newbies about doing some fleecin'. Never know when Gryffindor might get some new talent."
"You think we'll get to play quidditch this year?" George picked up his knife and fork and dove into the vegetarian lasagna that had appeared on the table.
Shoveling food as fast as his twin, Fred shrugged his pony shoulders. "Beats me, but we'll need more gaffer tape if we do."
"We all will. At least we can duplicate it." George paused a moment after he said it, then turned to see Fred was staring at him with the same, knowing grin. "There's out big grift for the year. We need to find all the gaffer tape, replace it with Geminied tape, and then sell our own Gemini tape—made to last a day at most—of course."
"Of course." Fred felt a rush of excitement—the same he always felt when they'd put together a plan to make a pile of coin. Of course, most of the time their plans fizzled partway through, but it wasn't about the destination, it was the mischief they made along the way.
"No one would be stupid enough to stay taped to their broom more than a day, right?" As he asked it, George's face got a bigger and bigger grin, and he watched the same blossom on his brother's face.
"Unless someone messed with the sticky part, you mean?" Fred asked.
"More or less." George pushed his plate away and stood up. "More… or less?" His grin didn't fade as Fred stood up along with him and they both left the great hall.
As they dodged around stairs and made their way through Hogwarts, George asked, "We're going to have trouble if someone else gets the same idea."
They both paused at the top of a staircase that was slowly swinging to align with the balcony that contained the entrance to the Gryffindor tower, and said, "Filch."
Stepping off the stairs, the pair made their way just inside the tower entrance before pulling out their map—the Marauder's Map. George drew his wand and tapped the map in Fred's hooves. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
"There 'e is. Filch is in his office. Probably eating."
"Missus No—"
"None of that." Meara Norris glared at Argus Filch. "I have a first name, Argus, you spoke it at our ceremony."
"I—I couldn't—" Slumping down to his knees, Argus leaned against Meara's legs. When her soft hand met his hair, he started to weep.
Crouching down, wearing not a stitch of clothing, Meara tilted his jaw up to look into Argus' eyes. "Tell me what happened."
"F-From the start?"
"No, Argus, from when things returned to normal."
Just the sound of his name on her lips was pure joy. "The spell broke along with all the other charms and wards. That was months ago. When I found you, you were in your favorite spot, in the morning sun, but—
"You were human again, Meara." It was the first time he'd spoken her name in so long and it teased more tears from him. "I carried you to my quarters and put you in my bed. The house-elves helped feed you and—and—"
"It's alright, Argus. Now, did the spell at least work? Were you able to do magic?" Meara asked.
"No. That's the worst of it. All this time and I still have no more magic than any other squib." Jumping to his feet, anger filled Argus. "It's not fair, Meara! Why don't I have magic but they do?!"
"Argus Archibald Filch!" Done with the whining tone before it had even fully started, Meara invoked Argus' full name. "This is inappropriate behavior. What year is it?"
"N-Nineteen Ninety-Three."
It was a fight not to reveal her pain at losing so many years, but Meara managed it. "You will be a wizard, Argus, thirty years or so is nothing to a wizard." She looked around the sleeping quarters. "Do you have my wand still?"
Walking over to the nightstand, Argus reached for the bottom drawer—its handle covered in dust. "I also have your clothes, your hat, and everything you had with you that night."
When he carefully laid her shirt, dress, robe, and hat before her, Meara felt her heart soar at the site of her things. After those, and while she started getting dressed, Argus set down her wand, several rings, a key, and a necklace.
When she had her dress and shirt on, she reached out her hand and touched her wand. Years of catching up focused down to a minute moment and Meara let out a laugh of pure joy. She reached out for her robes next and pulled them on, then her rings, necklace, and finally her hat. "Are you ready for the next attempt, Argus?"
Shrinking back a little as she picked up her wand for the second time, Argus forced himself to remember who and what Meara meant to him. "M-Meara! Be careful with your magic. Using it will—"
"I haven't forgotten events before I passed out, Argus. I know that becoming partly equine isn't just unavoidable, it's required. We came from different worlds, you and I, which is why this will be easier for me than for you. We will persevere."
Biting his lower lip to keep from warning her further, Argus watched as Meara's fingers changed from human flesh and bone to the strange crystalline form of a crystal pony's flesh. The spell she was working on was one he'd seen worked before, but last time she'd reversed it at the last minute and directed it at herself.
This time, as she worked the spell, Meara kept it aimed true at Argus. The magic wasn't weak, by any stretch of the imagination, so she felt more and more of her body changing from the casting. "What will we make of you?"
"I still need my job, here!" Argus watched in awe as a small glowing dot on Meara's forehead started extending outward, growing into a long, crystalline horn. He gasped just in time to feel the spell take effect.
Meara's magic followed her will but it also drew on the nature of the world itself. When she thought of a small reptilian creature capable of manual labor, she expected a kobold or lizardman, what she witnessed unfolding was Argus growing feathers.
A feeling akin to pins and needles dialed up to eleven rushed across Argus. In the wake of the sensation a swarm of feathers sprouted from his skin and puffed out their vanes. A raucous pattern of coloring from green to yellow and orange to bright red spread out. Large talons formed out of his feet—ripping his shoes apart—while his hands formed into hand-like versions of the same.
The strangest change for him, though, was watching his beak grow-in and push forward from his face. He reached his hand-claws up and felt as the big, curved beak formed and it shifted his face around to suit it.
"Well, that's not quite what I planned. How do you feel, Argus?" Meara already approved of her new familiar's appearance. The colors, strength, and youthful appearance of him lacked just one thing to be perfection.
"Amazing, Meara. I haven't felt this young in twenty years!" Flexing his arms and claws, Argus Filch ran one hand down his feathers and laughed. "How soon before we know if it worked?"
"The bond is just starting, Argus. Here, reach for my magic and make your hand light up." The bond of witch and familiar was still tenuous, but Meara let her magic flow down it to Argus.
Argus knew many ways to make light. He'd studied spells—wand gestures, pronunciation, hand gestures, and even intent—but none of it had ever worked because he had lacked magic. Now, bereft of a wand, not having a human larynx, and hands shaped more for their claws than ability to gesture, he only had the magic. And the magic, combined with his intent, was enough.
A glowing sphere of light appeared in Argus' hand. Both he and Meara stared at it for several seconds before either of them could blink.
"We did it," Argus said, before he felt Meara's arm around him, pulling him against her side.
Meara had been unable to resist working the boon of youth into her familiar bond with Argus. "You did it."
"It was definitely a pony. A princess." Rake spat into the dirt around the small group of huts they'd built in the grasslands—then had to stomp on the flames she'd accidentally made. "All kinds of powerful dream magic, but she couldn't get past me."
Charles Weasley rolled his eyes and laughed. "Yeah, she wasn't happy about that, but thanks for letting her talk. She seemed worried about where we are and if we're safe. Can you believe she wanted to send an army to rescue us?"
"Why would you need an army? You have dragons." Rake gestured away the question with one talon. "We could still go looking for your family."
"I know they're safe, they know I'm fine. We can communicate any time we want—but it would be nice to go back around New Year or so." Charlie flicked an ear when he felt something touch it, then shook his whole head when he felt it again. "These damn flies are annoying." The extra weight on his forehead was starting feel natural.
"They don't bother me," Rake said, blowing a little smoke.
Barking a laugh, Charlie stood up. "How're things going with the cats?"
"None within half a day's flight in any direction. Those cow-beasts are moving closer, but they'll probably leave if they realize there are predators here." Rake rolled her shoulders and stretched out her wings. Since growing her adult scales, she'd grown and grown and grown—to the point where she'd been worried it might be greed growth.
Standing up and walking around to Rake's side, Charlie reared up and started working his hooves into the softer scales—and muscles—of Rake's wing and shoulder. "Joints still sore?"
Drawing a deep breath to spit literal fire at the hint of being called weak, Rake flopped onto her belly and instead moaned out bubbles of liquid-like smoke. "Don't ever stop that, please?"
"Only to swap sides. You're growing a lot, Rake. I have no idea how you get enough energy to do what you do and grow, but even I can tell you have growing pains. Limbs getting bigger, stronger, and heavier—while your muscles and tendons are still catching up. Take a few days off flying—walking too. Just laze around a bit and spend some time with your hoard." Feeling the tense muscles, Charlie worked his hooves into them and slowly rolled the knots out.
"How do you know so much about dragons?"
Charlie didn't stop massaging, but he did turn his head to look into the one closed draconic eye he could see. "Are you actually asking me that?"
Rake couldn't summon the energy to want to move. "I mean Equestrian dragons. Your dragons are—"
"Big, dumb critters that like to fly around when they're growing from juvenile to adult—too." No other dragon would take the barbs he gave Rake, mostly because none of them would recognize the hint of humor he added to them.
Laughing, Raking sighed. "It's like its not even my body anymore. I'm getting so much bigger I thought I was greed-growthing."
"I'll concede there are some things I don't know about. What's up with greed-growth?"
"We've talked a bit about it before. It's when a dragon gets too greedy for their own good or when they think they own too much. A dragon is as big as their ego." Rake was about to complain as Charlie stopped, only to feel him climb up and over her back to start on the other side. "And here I am, surrounded by six giant, walking diamonds who all swore allegiance to me. No wonder I got huge."
"Huge is good." Finding similar knots in the muscles on Rakes other side, Charlie started into them. "Huge is powerful. Are there any downsides to greed-growth?"
"Eventually the dragon will wake up to the fact they aren't rich, then they shrink again."
"Wait, so let me get something straight, this only affects young dragons, since adult dragons are already too insular and self-serving to get off their butts even if a mountain was going to fall on them?"
"Mmmm…" Rake let the groan taper off without a reply at first, but finally she nodded just a little. "Pretty much."
"Then what's the difference between greed-growth and actually growing up, if dragons just become greedy and self-important anyway?"
Rake opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again and let rings of smoke pop out her nostrils one at a time. When Charlie didn't say anything else in five minutes, she sighed. "There needs to be some kind of talk to explain all this."
"Rake"—Charlie climbed up onto her back and found the muscles that crossed her spine—"it might surprise you to learn this, but I don't think Torch was a good teacher." The muscles here took a lot more work to get to—a hard plate of interlocked and fused large scales protecting her spine.
Laughing, flexing her claws and stretching out even more, Rake barely managed to say, "I think you're right, but who else would have the job?" before a groan of bliss stole her ability to talk.