July 18th, 95th Year of the Tenth Celestial Century
"Now you tell me the sacrifice," said his employer once the two of them were alone.
"No, first I secure our privacy," said Riddle. Then he began building it one ward at a time.
They stood not in the throne room of Night Court, but in an anonymous location of Riddle's choosing – a dilapidated barn on an abandoned farm he once saw on his first flight to Manehattan.
He cast perception spell after scrying charm after listening-device locator, the number of which well exceeded the over-forty privacy spells he once knew. He now used pony and wizard magic alike, invoking every security effect known to him, from spy-detection to eavesdropping-prevention. Some spells were semi-permanent, like the notice-me-not ward, while others were only active for a brief moment, like the Deathly Hallows detector.
"Now I tell you the sacrifice," he said after he was finished. "But first, you will promise to keep the exact wording of your Vow at the forefront of your mind. You will promise to wait until I have fully explained what I am willing to explain. And you will promise not to moralise at me."
"This was not part of the deal."
"Seeing as how it was never a 'deal' in the first place, but simply something you and your sister decided I would do, I think I may now simply decide to modify it. Be thankful that I do not modify it more."
His employer sighed. "Fine. I am fine with those conditions. I promise to wait until you are finished, and I shall not judge you harshly for whatever you have done. Not that I could in the first place. Conveying that truth to you was the whole point of my Vow."
Riddle shrugged. "Significant revelations have a tendency to change minds. Such as the fact that my immortality ritual requires the sacrifice of sapient life."
His employer, he could tell with his Changeling senses, grew very sad at this. "I suspected as much." She gazed directly into his eyes. "How many have you sacrificed for the sake of yourself, my fool?"
"Since arriving on Equus?" asked Riddle. "Two," he said, truthfully but deceptively.
His employer was surprised, and a little less sad, by his answer. "Do not think I did not catch the implication, but… only two?"
"The base sacrifice is a single life," he said. "Not ten. Additional sacrifices simply add to the security. As I have honestly promised in the past, multiple times by this point, no innocent Equinoids have been physically hurt or killed by me. And now you know exactly how many non-innocents have been killed."
"So…" she said, her eyes going a bit distant in thought. "Chrysalis?"
"And King Sombra's agent," he nodded in confirmation. "I should mention that Nightmare Moon was not all your own doing. If you heard voices in your head, they were not your own."
His employer did not absorb that information emotionlessly, but she did not reply how he expected. "You will not succeed in distracting me," she said after ten seconds. "Very good try, though. And thank you for telling me. But I would like to focus on the part where you killed them instead of taking them into custody."
"What more is there to say?" asked Riddle. "They were threats to the world, and I disposed of them. You already know the reasoning for Chrysalis, and the agent was much the same. Beyond that, you said you would not moralise."
"Correct," said his employer, her outside far calmer than her inside. "I will not judge or reprimand. But for your sake, I will analyze and advise. Or at least attempt to do so." She began pacing within the confines of the secure barn and the security charms. "Do you care about the lives of others at all, my fool? Even the ones you have saved?"
"For the most part? No."
"What about the parts that are not included in 'most'?"
"I maybe care."
"Silver and Memory?"
"Silver alone," he said. "And I do not know if I truly care. We have a camaraderie that I have never shared with anyone else in my life. But even then, there were many things he did not see my way, which came as a disappointment. But more pertinent than that, he's gone now, and in leaving he likely betrayed me. So as I said I do not know if I still care for him. I do not know if I ever did."
"You are much older than him," his employer observed. "Did you have any friends when you were younger?"
"None that I can remember."
"A result of the orphanage?"
"Partly."
"You had no role models to teach you the right way of things?"
"Using your framework of 'right' and 'wrong', there would have been only one, or perhaps two, and they betrayed me more strongly and directly than Mr. Silver ever did." Riddle paused thoughtfully. "The primary influence between those two was the owner of the voice you heard from the Mirror, if you are curious."
His employer's eyes showed understanding. "How did he betray you?"
"At one point, I begged him to introduce me to his mentor, who was publicly known to possess a morally neutral method of immortality. Instead of helping, or even giving a reasonable explanation about why my request was a non-starter – for it was, though I did not know it at the time – my former role model instead decided to give me a lecture on how unvirtuous it was to be afraid of death. Up until that point, he was the only adult I had ever come to trust."
"And after that lecture," said his employer slowly, "you never trusted anypony ever again."
"Precisely," he said. "After that day, I also stopped trying to be 'good', using the same reasoning you did for becoming Nightmare Moon. If the world's most 'wise' and 'virtuous' wizard was going to call me evil just for not wanting to die…"
His employer nodded. "How many non-equinoid sapients have you killed?" she asked. "As I said, I did not miss the implication."
"I think I would prefer to keep that answer to myself," he said. "It was not a part of our deal."
"That is telling enough," his employer replied, growing sad once more. "Oh, fool," she said. "You do not know how badly I wish to buck you in the face right now. And hug you. You do not know how badly you needed a hug back then, when he said that to you."
"What I needed was someone who understood my perspective," he replied with a shake of his head. "Not physical affection."
"You needed both," she replied. "And now you may have both."
"I don't think I 'need' either anymore," said Riddle. "It is far too late now."
"It is never too late," she said. "At the very least, it is never too late to be understood." She adopted something of a lecturing tone. "Some ponies, and even more griffons and minotaurs, believe that the solution to death is to not be afraid, but I have never agreed with them. I agree with your fear. Death is a terrible thing, and I wish it did not have to happen. I have watched all but one of my fillyhood friends die, and if not for Tia, I might have wished to die myself. I would much prefer it if that wasn't the case. I wish my friends hadn’t died. I understand your hatred for what you call moralizing, since it played a key part in such a negative moment of your life. I also understand your willingness to sacrifice the lives of others for yourself. Griffons do not hesitate to sacrifice the lives of fish for food, nor should they. And while what you have done crosses the threshold from neutral to wrong…" she took a long pause, as if searching for the exactly correct words to say. "…If an evil being must be stopped anyway, I can understand the reasoning that says their deaths may as well be put to use. But-" she said, the Canterlot voice startling him slightly, "-thou will not do it again. Ever. Now that thou have obtained immortality, thou will stop this madness. Am I understood, Tom?"
His eyes widened only slightly in surprise. "Where did you hear that name?"
"Thy mirror-trapped betrayer said it, and I have not forgotten. Do not distract from the issue, my fool. If thou seekest happiness, thou must stop seeking the deaths of others. It is evil of the greatest degree, and it must end."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then thou willst never achieve happiness, and I shall be forced to revoke all privileges and concessions I have ever granted thee if it happens again, even if it is another villain you slay."
He chuckled. "Fine. As long as I wish to maintain those, I will not do it again."
"Thou will not do it again, period."
He shook his head. "My free will says otherwise. When the time comes, it is inevitable that I will be tempted. The question is whether you can offer a better alternative."
"Happiness is a better alternative."
He huffed in disbelief. "Even if it were, I've yet to experience it. I've yet to benefit from it. Why should I give up a certainty of benefit for a possibility of happiness?"
"This is not a negotiation, fool. It is a dictum."
"A dictum I can ignore if I please," he said with a roll of his eyes. "If you insist on those terms, let's do it this way. Think of this as your deadline. By the time the next threat rises, if I value your company and advice more than I value the final addition to my Horcrux system, then I will not kill for that reason. That is an honest promise."
She stared at him. "The final… Horcrux addition?" she asked, her lips testing the word, her voice no longer imperious.
"Yes," he affirmed. "I made a magically binding promise to my student that I would kill no more than three creatures for that purpose while on this planet. I only have one allotment left. Once all three are done, I can only kill Equinoids in self-defense, an allowance which is unlikely to ever be necessary."
"And once you leave this planet?"
He shrugged. "My student also observed that I need no more security than I already have back home, using an analogy with fenceposts. I have slowly come to agree with his perspective, after thinking about it myself. I literally have one left to make. Maybe two or three more on my home planet, if I think of any modifications between now and then. Is that so bad?"
"Yes," said his employer. "It is."
"Good," said Riddle. "Consider that your motivation to speed along my improvement. If you fail, the next threat will simply be my next Horcrux opportunity. If you succeed, it will not."
"I already have motivation," she said. "Why are you doing this?"
"I am displeased with my current progress," he said honestly. As recently as a week ago, his wand produced not a flicker of Patronus Light. The emotion of happiness that he could now feel in others is still refusing to arise from within himself, even if he knew how it should feel and where it should come from on a body-mechanical level. "You have Vowed to help me find happiness, but you have not Vowed to succeed as quickly as possible. If you truly care for the life of a Dark Lord, and I still don't see why you would, then help faster."
There was an extremely long pause as his employer regarded him and his argument.
"So be it," she decreed at last. "But this shall not be a one-sided effort, my fool. I do not intend to haul a two-pony cargo load up a mountain by myself, where thou relaxes on top of the cargo instead of helping to pull it, drinking alcohol and gorging thyself unhealthily all the while. Thou must promise to abide by my advices and acquiesce to my requests, not simply follow them at thy own leisure whenever it dost not annoy thee. I have heeded thy military suggestions to the fullest. It is time thou heedest my own offerings of aide with equal fervor."
Now it was Riddle's turn to be silent for a time as he stared into the steady gaze of the Alicorn of Night and Dreams.
"So be it," he echoed her words. "But I reserve the right to change my mind if your suggestions don't seem like they're working."
"Good enough," said his employer. "So long as you do not give up in a week, I think that should do. Now step forth."
"For a hug?" he asked, his tone making his distaste clear.
"After reading so many books on biology," said Princess Luna, "you should know by now that many mammals need physical affection from their mothers to be properly socialized and happy. Since you never had it, you need to make up for lost time. I promise not to go overboard. I promise that I will only do it when I believe it is strictly necessary, and I promise that it is strictly necessary for your improvement. Now step forth."
"You have no ulterior motives?"
"Like what?"
"Romance."
She laughed at that, which surprised him. Hadn't she said he was attractive, once upon a time?
"No, my fool," she answered. "As it stands, you would make an utterly terrible father. That is the metric I use to evaluate suitors, and the metric I have used to reject every one thus far. Your hugs will be for the sake of friendship and happiness, purely and simply. If that ever changes, I will let you know. Now please come and receive one. And open your senses as you do."
Already regretting the life choices that led him to this moment, he did as advised.
"Know that this is what you needed after the mirror-trapped being lectured you," said her honest and slightly furious voice from behind his ears. "If an extremely intelligent and diligent and ambitious young colt had come to me with such a plea… you were all those things when you went to the one in the mirror, correct?"
"Yes."
Except the colt part, but that didn't have much to do with what she was asking. And he hadn't been as intelligent because (a) he was younger and (b) he hadn't added the power of Ravenclaw's Diadem to his Horcrux system by that point. But he was still a straight-O student.
His employer's emotions conveyed something like a brief flash of happiness at his reply, but her voice did not show it as she spoke on.
"I would have said to you what my sister and I have agreed to tell no-one," she said in a voice of importance and gravity. "I would have said that you could achieve long-lasting life if you discovered a new form of magic and shared it with the world. I would have said that many ponies have tried, but none prevailed in doing it deliberately. My sister and I decided long ago to stop inflicting the cruelty of false hope upon so many ponies, including ourselves." She briefly rubbed her cheek on his. "But I would have made an exception for you. And finally, I would have asked why you were so fearful. Assuming it was not simple narcissism and selfishness, I would have attempted to find the fundamental cause of paranoia in your environment and root it out, though it is likely too late now." She released him from the hug. "Speaking of which, I would like to know more about those two murder attempts. Were such things common in your youth? And I would like to know exactly what you have done to the perpetrator."
He weighed the consequences of honesty for a moment, found them acceptable, then spoke. "No, murder attempts were not common in my youth. Or even rare. They were non-existent until much later in my life."
"That points to physical or emotional abuse by your caretakers or peers," said Luna. "Or extreme neglect. Or a combination of all three. But go on. What were those two methods he used? I've never seen them before."
"The first attempt was a bastardized form of Transfiguration poisoning."
"Transfiguration?" asked his employer.
"What ponies call changing magic," he said. "The wizards of my home universe have formalized the magic into its own school. Specific charms for specific transformations still exist, but we are trained from youth not to need them. We call it 'Free Transfiguration'. You asked how I cheated bingo, and the answer is that I Transfigured my bingo board into one that had already won. I can teach you the principles later, if you wish. The boulder you saw was likely Transfigured into a microscopic speck, then flicked into my wine. Is that a good enough explanation for now?"
"Almost," she said. "If that was a 'bastardized' form of it, what is transfiguration poisoning in general?"
"Tell me your own guess," he said. "Before I tell you the answer."
If she was going to 'teach' him positive emotion whether he liked it or not, he was going to teach her to start thinking on her own whether she liked it or not.
She frowned at not being told outright, and then his Changeling sense told him that she was thinking about the problem. The 'thinking' state of mind is not quite an emotion as much as it is a lack of emotion, which is still something he can sense, since it often feels like a rare and unusual exception to otherwise emotional creatures.
"It is important not to guess about changing magic," said his employer after a brief pause.
"That is the correct answer," said Riddle approvingly. "Now guess anyway. Transfiguration poisoning does not usually involve a large boulder, but it does often involve wine."
The perpetrator in the standard Hogwarts textbook Transfigured gold into the entire volume of wine, and copycat criminals have historically done the same. That gave paranoid wizards an incentive to invent a specific counter charm to detect it. What had made Quirrell's attempt special, and almost successful, was how he had avoided the standard counter charm by Transfiguring the boulder into a tiny amount of non-wine material that made up only a small fraction of the base drink.
"The medical ailment is technically called Transfiguration sickness," he said, giving another hint when she didn't seem like she was making progress. "Poisoning is the deliberately induced version."
"Transfiguration sickness…" repeated his employer, her lips tasting the word, as they had tasted Horcrux earlier. "I do not think I need to guess what that is. That is what happens when changing magic reverts after a changed object has been imbibed or otherwise absorbed into the body. Correct?"
He nodded. "That information was not readily available in any of your textbooks. Did your sister censor it?"
"She must have," the Night Princess nodded. "I was gratified to learn that all liquid and gaseous changing spells had been lost to time, and that the field of study has been strictly restricted. I thought it had been the work of Starswirl and subsequent academics, but you are likely right that my sister had her own hoof involved more than anypony else. Now, what of the method that actually succeeded in killing you?"
Riddle thought for a moment, then walked over to the side of the barn, finding and picking up a suitable piece of wood that had fallen from a stall door. It took about five seconds to transfigure it into the weapon Quirrell had used. Riddle followed proper safety procedures by aiming it at the wall, away from the two ponies in the room.
His employer walked over, looking and feeling curious. "What is that?"
"It is the M Twenty-Four Sniper Weapon System, the combat version of the Remington Model Seven Hundred rifle."
When he got back from his first vanquishment in the body of Quirrell, one of the first things he'd done was get up-to-date on modern muggle warfare to see how much their technology had progressed and how much more of a threat they had grown to pose. He'd also done it to add their power to his own; he had at least not neglected muggle firearms at that point in his life, even if he had utterly (and stupidly) dismissed science as something to be desired.
Using Quirinus Quirrell's passport, he'd gone to Texas, which generally has the widest selection of firearms and the lowest suspicions about English-speaking adults who inquire into them. He hadn't needed so much as an I.D. when he was only asking questions.
"It uses a seven point sixty-two by fifty-one millimetre short action cartridge," he recited, "and has an overall length of sixty-nine point eighty-five millimetres." In order to transfigure something made of multiple parts, it helps to know the names of all the components – or at least all the removable ones. It also helps to know dimensions, and modern muggles helpfully include those in their armaments, down to the fractional millimetre. And while he wasn't certain on the ammunition, at a guess… "With how much damage it did to my head and nothing else, the bullet used was most likely a one hundred and seventy-five grain hollow-point round."
His employer seemed utterly lost by this point, as expected.
"Right…" she said slowly. "Can you give the lay-pony's explanation?"
A simple request, on the surface. It would take some skill to simplify his own answer down to something that could be understood by an outsider.
He decided to begin with the broomstick overview of the issue first, then narrow in on guns afterwards.
"In my home universe," he began, "magic and mundane are separate. Magic is not as abundant as it is here. To start, not all sapient creatures have it. Only a tiny fraction of the world's population possess what we call the blood of Atlantis-" his employer gasped, which he noted for later reference, "-and that caused… let's call it historical conflict. The magical population of the world decided to segregate itself long before I was born, implementing what is now called the International Statute of Secrecy. Muggles – what we call those who do not have magic – are entirely ignorant of wizards. Some superstitious muggles still believe in magic, but the most intelligent muggles view it as purely false, since they have no evidence of its being true. They have focused their industrial efforts on the mundane world for the past centuries. This weapon," he gestured at the sniper rifle, "uses no magic at all, which is why it can be Transfigured. Its mechanics and engineering use only the physical laws of the universe. Think of it like an extremely advanced bow and arrow. It uses a combination of combustion and pressure to launch a small metal projectile at speeds far faster than the eye can see. Observe."
He transfigured a watermelon and floated it to the far end of the barn. Once it was there, he established wards to prevent any of the gun smoke, or evaporated watermelon contents, from reaching his or his employer's lungs. Then he muttered the charm of true-shot, having learned from Quirrell's example, and magically pulled the trigger, since he had no finger to do it. The gun adjusted its aim slightly and fired at the watermelon.
His employer jumped at the noise, then stared at the detonated watermelon in shock.
"The combustion means that precautions must be taken to avoid Transfiguration sickness," Riddle concluded his explanation, "but that's little trouble for a competent wizard. Normally, there's a faint smell of smoke in the air."
"That weapon seems inherently lethal," his employer remarked with worry.
"Muggles don't have access to stunning spells," Riddle said dryly. "Well, I suppose they do, after a fashion, but such trinkets are slow and short-ranged – not at all useful on true battlefields, though they suffice for guard work, at least when the criminal does not have a gun."
"Just how violent is your home universe?" asked Luna, looking intently at him.
"Far more than this one." He frowned at his knowledge of nuclear weapons. "Guns are only the tip of the iceberg. It only gets worse from there."
"Your universe's inhabitants seek only to kill their enemies in warfare?" she asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. "I suppose that explains how there wouldn't be a shortage of Dark Lords for you to kill."
"There wasn't, but…" he tilted his head. "Not all war victors seek genocide. Not even most, I would say. In the modern age, anyway. And sometimes, they avoided delivering death during battle as well. Muggles have invented chemical agents like tear gas and pepper spray, the uses of which you can probably guess from the names alone. Muggles have invented rubber and bean-bag bullets to use against riots and mobs, and flash grenades which stun combatants with bright flashes and loud noises. But even as muggles made non-lethal explosions, they also invented extremely lethal explosions. Possibly greater than you can imagine."
"How bad is it?" she asked, looking like she was afraid of the answer.
"It is a danger that eclipses anything magic can still produce, at least in my world. And muggles did it without even knowing about magic in the first place, and thus without knowing caution or restraint. Muggle politicians now have control over that power. Muggle politicians from multiple, belligerent, enemy countries have control over that power. It's not something possessed by a single benevolent country, like Equestrian control over the sun and moon. And even worse, wizards are so ignorant of muggle affairs that only myself and maybe three other influential wizards even know about the problem in the first place. Most wizards see muggles as stupid, powerless, or both. Barely worth considering or noticing on a daily basis. And other muggle technologies are progressing to the point where they will soon see through our anti-muggle wards. You can likely imagine what that means in the long run."
His employer looked and felt truly horrified now. "Your world is doomed."
"My thoughts exactly," he agreed. "Although Mr. Silver believes that it is not. I myself took a few precautions to prevent its immediate end, at least one of which has triggered already. But yes, if something is not done, that world is indeed doomed."
"And you want to go back there?"
"More like I want to leave here."
"Why?" asked Luna. "I thought you selfishly cared for your own life. Why do you want to return to a doomed universe?"
HPMoR Chapter 22: "When this flawed world seems unusually hateful, I wonder if there was somewhere else that I should have been."
"You know," said Riddle after a pause. "That is a very good question."
He ignored the quibble that in all likelihood, only the world itself was doomed by nuclear weapons, not the whole universe. But now that Mr. Potter had gone back, it was dangerous to throw himself back into the fray with that ambiguous and foreboding prophecy at play.
Why does he want to go back? Was his distaste for colourful ponies and 'the magic of friendship' really so strong that he had utterly overlooked a very simple solution to the dilemma of a doomed planet? Why not simply stay on Equus? This world seemed more than big enough to maintain his interest, and he had already adjusted to the most annoying parts, like the constant singing and the aggressive affection…
"I will think about it," he answered her question honestly. He had an important question of his own that he did not want to forget. "Now, would you mind telling me how you recognized the term 'Atlantis'?"
He hadn't encountered it anywhere in his reading of Equestrian texts, but then, his employer is older than the texts. Did the Mirror's most ancient inhabitants somehow learn the name of their creators? But the Atlanteans probably had a different name for themselves, no? Or was this another instance of parallelism, like with Manehattan and Canterlot? Did some form of 'Atlantis' exist here? Did they have a version of the lost city story in their literature, with a slightly different, pony-based name?
"I…" said his employer. "In truth, I do not fully know if I did recognize it. It could have been my imagination, but I feel like I should know the word. I think I heard it at some point, perhaps when I was very young. I shall have to consult my memories and see if anything comes up."
Or maybe it is like the words of false comprehension, thought Riddle to himself, Which can be understood and spoken by all intelligent creatures, even if their meaning is lost. Maybe, for whatever reason, the Atlanteans programmed the Mirror to have its fabricated creatures react to Atlantean commands, or their presence, or even the invocation of their names, and my failure to know the Atlantean tongue is preventing me from fully accessing that feature.
Then again, it was a bit of a stretch to extrapolate such a complicated theory from such minor evidence. At this point there's no way to tell, and probably no way to uncover the truth without talking to a true Atlantean who had worked on the Mirror. And unless an Atlantean had been trapped by the Process of the Timeless, he'd likely never know the truth.
"I believe we are almost done here," said his employer. "I have but one more worry. My fool, what precisely did you do to that griffon?"
Once more, Riddle weighed the consequences of revealing unknown magic – this time Obliviation – to a princess of Equestria.
"I healed his body, as I said I would," he started off easily enough. "I gave him a jewel that would fetch a high price, and gave him an appearance that would not be accused of my murder. His old one was not his birth appearance in any case, and I don't think he gained any friends since his arrival on this planet, so he shouldn't have lost much with the change. And then…" he trailed off. His employer waited patiently for him to continue.
He didn't like that he was being pressured into revealing Obliviation like this. He would have preferred to exchange a better advantage.
But he decided that it ultimately didn't matter too much. It's not like it worked on her in the first place, and even if he was forced to use it in the future on somepony else, properly crafted memory charms do not leave any evidence, so he could probably get away with it. Plus, she was bound not to tell anyone his secrets.
"And then I removed all his memories of interaction with me," Riddle admitted, "going back to the moment I first possessed him, which he said had ruined his life."
Luna stared at him. "You… removed his memories…" she repeated.
"Correct," said Riddle. "He was a wandering adventurer, and he was rather content with that passion. He should now believe that the dungeon trap he triggered – the one that originally resulted in his possession – brought him here instead. He lived a solitary life on the other side, so he's not exactly missing anyone, or being missed. I thought that returning him to his old lifestyle as much as I could would be the best thing to give him."
"It might have been," Luna agreed. "But how did you remove his memories?"
"Magic," Riddle shrugged. "Actual magic," he clarified, before she could get annoyed at his common reply to those who question how he does things. "It's a charm from my home universe. I was reluctant to speak about it for obvious reasons."
"It's permanent," his employer said in an apprehensive voice, "isn't it?"
He nodded. "Memory wipes are unrecoverable unless a wizard goes out of their way to use the reversible version. And most don't. If you insist that I introduce memory charms to Equestria, I advise that you make them illegal outside of officially sanctioned purposes, and require extremely high security clearance for ponies to even know about them, let alone learn and use them. In my home universe, the standard introductory text is available in a public school library that adolescents as young as eleven can browse and learn from. I would prefer for Equestria to be more competent than that."
"Noted," said Luna. "If we go down that route, it shall also be illegal to remove anything related to a pony's happy memories. Can you describe how it is cast, so I know what to look for?"
"With a wand and a word," said Riddle after weighing yet another revelation, "which means that I am not quite sure if it can be learned by unicorns. The Patronus Charm, I understand, is an exceptional spell that can be cast on pure emotion, if the emotions are strong enough. Most other spells cannot be done that way. Most require wands, at least when first learning them."
"Wizards from your homeland require wands?"
He nodded, and drew his own with a wordless Emergus. He dispelled the gun and watermelon Transfigurations with a gesture, then said "Wingardium Leviosa."
His employer watched as the wooden board that used to be the gun – now missing a small chunk that was probably the bullet – floated into the air without any visible glow sustaining its flight, which any unicorn spell would have produced.
"Is that how you have been floating your silverware at dinner all this time?" she asked. "And your textbooks in school before then?"
"More or less," he confirmed. He didn't bog down the conversation with technicalities about the many various levitation charms and the specific ones he used most often.
"But you never used a wand," his employer observed with a frown. "Or can you make it invisible… no, your hooves were often beneath the table… can wanded levitation magic go through solid objects?"
He shook his head. "Knowledgeable wizards can do it without the wand, with enough practice. Think of it like hornless magic."
"What else can they do?" she asked, now sounding and feeling far more curious than before.
"Too many things to list off the top of my head."
"Can they do more than ponies, as Miss Sparkle suspects?"
"Yes," he answered. "Wizards have less raw power than unicorns, but they have far, far more variety."
"And that is how you did so well in the university's magic curriculum?"
"Yes, though diligent scholarship also played its proper part in that affair. I had to learn many new magical theories and spells, and I had to study for the general knowledge tests as well, like Equestrian History. And since wizards care little for mathematics and even less for science, I had to learn those from scratch, which took more time than anything else."
"When did you start studying?" she asked. "No, wait. Could you first say when you arrived here?"
"The same day you did," he answered. "I started studying not long after. A few days later, at most."
Luna's eyes went distant. "That would have given you… two months to study for the entrance exam?"
"About that much time, yes."
"I am told most ponies spend their entire youths preparing for that test," said Luna. "And most do not succeed. Yet you had top marks. How did you learn so much in two months?"
"I don't sleep," he answered.
"You don't-" she began incredulously, then cut herself off. "Of course you sleep, fool! Everypony sleeps! It is not something that can be discarded. The mind needs rest."
"I get mine in fifteen-minute bursts."
"That-" said Luna. "That- that is awful. 'Tis no wonder you are so unhappy all the time! You need more than that! You need dreams and respite! Have you not read about REM?"
"It would eat into my productivity," he said. "Besides, I've had the habit for two and a half years… no, make that twelve years. Breaking it now would be difficult."
"Hold," she said, raising a hoof. "I do not wish to change this subject – we will speak more about sleep and happiness – but how do you go from thinking you have had the habit for two and a half years, only to correct yourself to twelve years?"
Riddle tilted his head, considering yet another secret to tell. The others have been trivial compared to this one.
It was strange how even despite its significance, despite the theoretically dire consequences, he still felt like sharing. It was… unlike him, to consider telling her this. Even if she had been Vowed to silence. The ponies believe that honesty begets honesty, and that once you start saying the truth, it becomes easier to keep saying the truth.
And this particular truth, he decided, was worth telling, since it had been one of the most significant events that had shaped him into the man/pony he is today, and his employer has often told him that the more she knows about his past, the better she will be able to help him find happiness; that might have been an excuse to get him to say more, but she is Vowed to secrecy, so…
"If I tell you," he said, "you will consider it a secret of mine." That she would keep her Vow went un-mentioned and un-insisted, since it was Unbreakable.
"Yes, yes," she said. "I consider everything you have told me thus far as secret, and it will all remain secret unless you give me permission to speak. Now please answer my question."
"Very well. But first…"
His employer did not question him as he re-cast those security charms which were one-off detection spells instead of semi-permanent barriers. She watched his work in silence, seeming to understand.
"My immortality system," he said when he was done, "works through physical anchors. The original version, which did not provide true immortality, required a victim to touch the horcrux. When designing the improved version in my imagination, I thought my spirit should be able to float freely and resurrect myself at my own leisure. But when I finally died, I found myself anchored inside my devices. And in the height of foolishness, which felt like the height of cleverness at the time, I had hidden my anchors in places that no-one would ever find them. If you are about to laugh-"
He found himself embraced in another hug.
"How long were you trapped?" asked a soft, sad voice from behind his ear.
"Nine years and four months," he answered, diligently ignoring his instinct to leave the hug. It was better than laughter, at least.
"Were you aware for it?"
"Yes."
The pressure around his neck became a bit firmer.
"It wasn't as bad as it could have been," he said uncomfortably. "I put the time to good use, and I had a decent view."
"It certainly was as bad as it could have been," she said. "You could not sleep the entire time?"
"I could not, but-"
"You could not dream? You could speak to nopony at all?"
"No-"
"How are you not insane?"
He frowned. "Insanity would have gone against my interests. I used the time to ponder ancient magical riddles, and to reflect on the mistakes of my life which brought me to that moment, especially the failures in decision-making that got me killed."
"You used the time to punish yourself further?" she asked. The hug tightened yet further. "Oh, fool. Did you consider- no, of course you would not consider making yourself immortal in the first place to be a mistake."
He extracted himself from the hug. "Death is the worst possible fate, and I overcame it with the strength of my ambition and the power of my mind."
"There are fates worse than death."
"I disagree."
"You do not think eternal torture would be worse?"
"Not unless it rendered me effectively dead. The only thing worse than my death would be such torture followed by death."
"And you did not consider to extend that same courtesy to others?" she asked. "You do not see it as hypocritical to inflict what you see as the worst possible fate onto other living creatures? Other beings who likely went through similar foalhood abuse as you did, given that they grew to be Dark Lords?"
"It would only be hypocritical if I believed in universal morality, which I do not. Nor can I think of any example in magic where such morals would be…" he trailed off.
An example came to mind of a time when understanding that kind of morality did prove useful.
"Nor can I think of more than one magical example where universal morality has proven to be correct and just."
The Mirror operates by the 'fairest' ruleset he had ever encountered, at least up until the moment it sent him here.
"What about law?" his employer asked. "Should that not be universal?"
"No," he said. "Some beings are more competent than others. Idiots who are too stupid to breathe should be legally disbarred from certain actions, lest they take someone important with them as they depart this world. Blueblood and his lethal stunner is a prime example."
"His firing that stunner at you was already illegal," said the Princess. "You are missing the fact that the mentally deficient are often ignorant of the law, or do not fear it enough when they break it. Making laws to specifically punish them further would not fix or mitigate the issue, and it would not be fair to them if they have done nothing wrong."
"Requiring proof of competence before allowing potentially dangerous behaviour is not a punishment. Furthermore, if the same test is required of everypony, it is universal."
The Princess sighed. "We are getting lost in the unimportant weeds of this argument. Suffice it to say that I consider it hypocritical for you to so willingly kill others while simultaneously considering death to be the worst possible fate. You instinctually considered it hypocritical for my sister to criticize your immortality when she was immortal herself; please try to see the similarity within your own state of mind."
He frowned, but had nothing to say in reply to that. She was coming close to moralizing, but it was a logical criticism of his mental state, not an objection to his actions on moral grounds. She was calling him inconsistent, not evil, which is a form of criticism that his mind can't simply ignore.
"Now, I can think of three ways to speed along your progress. Will you promise to give them a fair attempt?"
"I will make no such promise until after I know what you are proposing," he said evenly. "I will promise to hear them, at least. I trust they are new suggestions?"
"Yes," said his employer. "First, I would like to bring you to my Astral Plane and show you some of my memories. Then I would like for you to begin showing me some of your own memories. And finally, I would like for you to adopt a more normal sleep cycle. I have no intention of entering your dreams, but you should have them in the first place. That you are not dreaming is likely contributing to your unhappiness and stress."
Riddle frowned. "I'm willing to try the last one," he said, despite the fact that it would cut into his productivity. "But I don't see the point to watching your memories, and you know not to pry into mine."
"The point of watching mine should become self-evident after the first session," said the princess. "As for your memories, I cannot possibly begin to help you find happiness if I am not more familiar with the specific causes of your unhappiness. Your unwillingness to share is evidence enough that the trauma was bad. It does-"
"Wrong,"
"-not have to be me- beg pardon?"
Riddle shook his head. "The severity of my past experiences has absolutely nothing to do with my unwillingness to share," he said. "That is the honest truth."
His employer was giving him a puzzled stare. "Then why are you so reluctant?"
"It is related to a fact that you now know," he answered. "I come from a different universe, and there are certain things about that situation that I do not feel like sharing." Like the fact that he used to be a different species altogether. As far as he could tell, she hadn't figured that out yet.
"That still does not quite answer why," she said. "What do you fear would happen if you told me?"
"It would cause you to look at me quite differently."
"It cannot possibly change how I look at you more than the secret to your immortality has," said Luna.
He tilted his head. "You say that now," he replied.
She shook her head. "My opinion of you will not change for trivial reasons that a difference in universe might produce. It will only change based on actions you have taken, and even then, I will take mitigating contexts into account. Given the Vow I have taken, I have no choice but to avoid judging you whenever possible, and to avoid sharing what you tell me with anypony else. I will analyze and advise, not moralize."
"I still don't like the idea."
His employer sighed. "It shall be nigh impossible for me to help you without knowing of your past."
Riddle stared at her for a long moment. "Very well," he said. He didn't exactly trust that she wouldn't be alienated by his alien nature, but her Vow would prevent the information from leaking, unless… "But first," he amended, "I must teach you a form of magic that we know in my home universe to make sure the information stays secret. And in the future, we will be doing this-" he waved his hoof at their surroundings "-in the Astral Plane, to avoid eavesdroppers the easy way."
"Why must I learn your magic when I have already taken the Vow?"
"Do you want me to demonstrate the problem?"
"I suppose?"
"Then think of something you don't want known, a secret you wouldn't want others to figure out. Preferably something trivial."
"You have a mind control spell in your home universe?" asked his employer. "Something that would force me to reveal it?"
He looked her in the eyes. "Yes, and you will be learning to guard against those as well, but I didn't even need them to figure out that you wet the bed when you were young."
Her eyes widened, and his Changeling sense informed him that she was embarrassed. "How did you do that?" she demanded.
"Magical mind reading," he replied, disclosing yet another ace in his sleeve. "We call it Legilimency. It works through eye contact, and it's another technique from my home universe, one that you will consider a secret of mine." (And therefore her Vow should prevent her from revealing it to others, and maybe even prevent her from avoiding eye contact with him, since she was bound not to use the information against him.)
His employer's eyes widened even further at the information he'd just given her. "So that is how you divined Blueblood's tryst!" she declared triumphantly.
"Indeed," he nodded, then decreed, "You will be learning the counter of Occlumency. That will prevent, say, the griffon we met earlier from reading your mind, or other members of my home universe from doing the same, if they somehow arrived here."
"Understandable," said his employer. "If that is your condition, then we will begin right away- actually, first, I have a question. How many times have you used… Legilimency, was it?"
He nodded.
"How many times have you used it on my subjects?"
"Aside from Blueblood?" asked Riddle. "None."
"None?"
"Unless you include Mr. Silver," he amended in realization, "but those times were exclusively for his own Occlumency lessons, and I'm not quite sure if he truly qualified as one of your subjects."
"I am surprised you did not do it more," she remarked.
"I'm a bit surprised myself," he replied. "In my last job, I was under heavy scrutiny. I constrained myself to using it only when necessary. I accepted that circumstance because most of my actions would be amusements to pass the time. Whenever you throw Legilimency into the mix, it ceases to be game, so I had to be more careful about its use than I'd ever been before. I got into the habit of not resorting to it when there were more creative options…"
Or when there was the risk of being discovered. If he knew alicorns could not inherently detect mental intrusions, as the princess just demonstrated, he would have used it much more liberally, especially on Celestia. It would have been useful when she was being reluctant about the Mirror and when she was keeping Mr. Silver's secrets. It still might be useful for that second one.
On the other hoof, with a thousand additional years of experience, Celestia might have developed some kind of Occlumency equivalent that she forgot to bring up with her sister…
"Did you use it on any beings who were not my subjects, other than myself?"
…or his employer might decide to start regularly asking him if he has Legilimised anypony. It would probably be wisest to continue restraining himself from taking the easy way out on that issue. He had already resolved to ask Mr. Silver directly about the accident/intent behind the escape. No need to rush things and make a mistake.
"Until yesterday, I would have said that I've used it on exactly two native Equinoids aside from Blueblood," he honestly answered. "Now that I know that the griffon was not a native Equinoid, I can honestly say that it was only one. On that note, Legilimency has a strange interaction with the Changeling Hive mind. If you get to the point of learning it yourself, do not use it on them. I'm not sure if that interaction only happens when the user has a Horcrux, but I wouldn't recommend putting it to the test."
His employer blinked a few times. "I see," she said slowly. "Magical accident indeed. So… you encountered the Changelings in the Crystal Caves beneath Canterlot… saw that they were keeping Princess Cadence prisoner… Legilimized Thorax to figure out what was going on, since it was clearly not a game… and then you ended up possessing him instead?"
"Correct," said Riddle, appreciative of the fact that she was keeping up without him needing to explain every little detail.
"And you still have not broken any laws that you can recall?"
"Other than the extremely minor incidents you already know about, like the library book, and the major incidents of the two Horcrux rituals, and a few other, morally neutral rituals that improved the survival chances of myself, Mr. Silver, and Ms. Granger, nothing else comes to mind."
"Well," said Luna, blinking a few more times. "Credit where credit is due. I believe you have been an upstanding member of Equestrian society thus far, if I ignore your general unpleasantness towards other ponies, which is often unnecessary and occasionally goes too far… but I digress. Even if you did kill them for selfish reasons, Chrysalis and Sombra's servant were both threats to this nation, and I am particularly relieved that the second one is no longer with us. Either incident alone would have earned the highest medals of military honor a thousand years ago, and I think even my sister would understand if she learned about them… well, she would understand for Sombra's servant, at the very least. It might even raise the number of beings she has ever hated to four."
"Just to check," asked Riddle, "you are not describing an intention to tell her?"
"No," she confirmed, "just remarking on her likely reaction. Tia has largely outgrown her protectiveness of me, but if she hears of the insidious nature of the attack I suffered, which directly caused our conflict and Nightmare Moon and my banishment, I believe she would hate not just Sombra, but the being who carried out his will. But I am digressing again. So long as those 'morally neutral' rituals are truly neutral, I think I can say with confidence that you have been on the correct path for some time now, as far as your actions are concerned."
Riddle was tempted to say he couldn't tell her until she'd learned Occlumency, but decided that would just delay the inevitable. "One is a ritual without a name," he explained, "so I just call it the fusion ritual. Under ordinary circumstances, it sacrifices a magical creature to temporarily bestow its powers upon another being. The side-effects are potentially fatal after the ritual wears off, but I have a way of making it permanent so that it never wears off. I've used it to attain a few useful traits for myself and my students, sacrificing the bodies of solely non-sapient creatures to that end."
It was a close shave, being able to say that honestly, but neither Chrysalis's clone nor the phoenix's clone had been sapient. They didn't have the potential for sapience either, since magically-created clones – homunculi, as some alchemical texts call them – do not possess the capacity to develop independent thought. A long tradition of alchemy has only found a single exception to this rule: putting an existing mind into a clone will allow the homunculus to have independent thought. But even then, it's not the clone that's thinking, is it?
And since homunculi are temporary magical constructs (without the Philosopher's Stone, at any rate), such pursuits were abandoned long ago by wizards seeking avenues to immortality. Transferring your mind from your damaged body into that of a healthy clone would not have worked. Even when they're actively sustained by outside magic, clones deteriorate very quickly. A week is the current alchemical world-record for longest-lived clone. And since the ritual that could make a viable human wizard clone requires the sacrifice of another powerful magical creature, trying to sustain one's self that way is an extremely losing prospect.
Yes, he had looked into that method when researching the Philosopher's Stone and alchemy. Yes, he had looked into every aspect of the theory to see if it would work. But even if indefinite preservation of life was theoretically possible with an infinite number of creatures to sacrifice in order to make clones of himself to jump into sequentially, and even with his desperate desire to avoid death, he didn't even consider the cloning method to be a last resort. He wanted to survive his death, not spend most of his time every day prolonging it.
"Creatures such as?" his employer asked for clarification, referring to the creatures he had sacrificed for the fusion ritual.
"I started with a couple of creatures from my home universe that don't exist here," he answered.
He silently teleported one of his false teeth into his robes. He retrieved it manually with a hoof, transfiguring it into a plain marble as he made physical contact so it wouldn't look like a tooth when he brought it to bear. He then floated the marble a good distance away, de-Transfigured it, and watched in amusement as his employer jumped slightly.
"That is a mountain troll," he gestured. "It has strength, spell resistance, and the ability to regenerate from almost anything aside from brain injuries, old age, and certain powerful magics like Fiendfyre. Trolls also turn to stone in sunlight, but the fusion ritual does not transfer… explicit weaknesses. Now I have all of its strengths in myself."
If he had gone with the additional unicorn sacrifice, not just the original one to become an alicorn, he would also have gained unusual speed, vitality, grace, and (unfortunately) an undispellable aura of innocence and purity.
Maybe he should look into a means of deactivating undesired properties? Or better yet, a means of having explicit control over every bodily magic. That could also help with the phoenix problem.
"Is that how you caught Blueblood's stunner?" asked his employer. "With a spell-resistant hoof?"
"No, that was pure skill," he said as he retrieved and re-transfigured the troll. "I did not acquire trollish spell resistance until December."
"And trolls are unintelligent?"
"They are not intelligent," he confirmed. "And even if they were, I've taken to using a cloning system that allows me to bypass that problem. I have a ritual that produces a roughly equivalent effect to the mirror pool, although it takes the sacrifice of an Ursa Minor for every new clone. Did you hear about that Ponyville incident, by the by?"
"No," she said with a frown, "but I know of the pool."
"Then you know that the clones it produces do not have the capacity for intelligence or sapience, correct?"
"Yes…" she said, still frowning. "That is why my sister and I determined that there is nothing morally abhorrent about returning the clones to the pool."
He nodded. "If I told you that my fusion ritual accepts clones, and that I can make clones at will using my own methods, can you see how that bypasses the problem of sapient sacrifice? If, say, I ever decided that I wanted the magical properties of a dragon, can you see how it might be done without doing something 'morally abhorrent', as you called it?"
"Do the clones you create have the same properties as those produced by the mirror pool?"
"Exactly the same." As far as he could tell, anyway.
"Then yes," she answered, "I can see how that might be done without moral issues, though most modern ponies do not agree with the deliberate sacrifice of animals, even dangerous ones like Ursa Minors. You are lucky I am so familiar with carnivores. I do not like how you have used ritual magic so often and so readily, but…" she trailed off.
"But when the 'Dark' side-effects can be bypassed," he finished for her, "and when they do not have a corrupting effect on the mind, and when they are put to positive use, you are capable of tolerating them?"
"Yes," she sighed. "You do know that the reason you will not be tried for the crime of ritual magic has nothing to do with the fact that you convinced us to change the law afterwards, yes?"
"I suspected that might be the case," he allowed. "Your Vow is the only reason I'm telling you any of this."
"If your past use of ritual magic within our borders comes to public light, I will insist you not be tried," she claimed. "So the Vow is not the reason either. Though it may have helped me to not judge you long enough for my mind to reach this conclusion."
"Then I don't understand," said Riddle. "Why wouldn't you have me tried? My noble status?"
"That has absolutely nothing to do with it. The reason you will not be tried for ritual magic, my fool, is because you have found ways to do them morally, like you did with the Vow. And if you continue to find ways to do ritual magic morally, your efforts will henceforth be encouraged. I suspect my sister will take much longer to come around, but I also think that she eventually will come around after you deem it acceptable to tell her."
"If I deem it acceptable," he corrected. "And if you're being honest about your appreciation for what I've done with rituals, then I already have a few suggestions…"
All of which she immediately shot down.
"None of that is moral, my fool."
"Not even the first one?"
"There is a difference between sensible and moral. Having a dying unicorn bind Unbreakable Vows might be sensible, but it is not moral. The moral thing would be saving the dying pony, if at all possible, not using them like a resource. The only thing you have suggested with perhaps some merit is to offer reduced sentences to criminal unicorns that consent to binding Vows. But even that is a very slippery slope, and easily corrupted by bureaucracy. I will not tolerate anything along the lines you've just proposed, just as I shall no longer tolerate your killing others to create additional Horcruxes, no matter how much of a threat they are. It is sensible, but not moral. If you find a way to bind Vows without permanent sacrifice of magic, or if you find a way to make Horcruxes without permanent sacrifice of intelligent life, then we shall talk. Do it morally, and I will consider it. And when I say 'morally', I mean without negative consequences, especially death, to any intelligent beings involved, as you have accomplished with your combat and fusion rituals."
"That is a bit of a special case, not something to expect on a general basis."
"You are not confident in your ability to duplicate your success?"
He thought about it. Is he unconfident that he can duplicate the Philosopher's Stone? Yes, in fact. He's not confident at all. As for the rest…
"I'll think on it," he said. "It will probably take years, if it can be done at all."
"As an alicorn who has defeated death in himself, you have all the time in the world."