Sweetie Belle - Hogwarts Exchange Student
Bump in the Night
Hogwarts never slept. Being made of stone and wood, that went without saying. The students in the building slept, of course, and most of the paintings with witch or wizard subjects had a fair chance of them being slumbering even during the day. That meant when the portrait of the Fat Lady creaked ever so slightly open and trainer-clad foot extended to prod around in the darkness for the stone staircase landing, nobody should have been able to see it.
“Good evening, Miss Lilley. Watch that first step.”
Sparrow stumbled and nearly fell, landing on her knees with her knapsack dropping beside her with a thud. “Percy?” she asked the darkness.
“Associate Head of House Weasley,” said Percival. “And I didn’t think you of all the students would be sneaking out at night to run away from school.”
A faint light illuminated the broad stairway landing as Percy lit his wand, looking down at the slender First Year with a slow shake of his head. “No excuses, please. And the other two of you, come out also.”
Sweetie and Wycliffe slipped out behind Sparrow, both looking embarrassed in their own particular way. Sweetie Belle was only wearing one of Sparrow's oversized shirts with a garish British flag embossed on it, while Wycliffe had a full billowing blue nightshirt and green knit hat, leaving only his face and slippers exposed to the night air.
“Any others back there?” asked Percival.
All three of them shook their heads, although Sparrow frowned fiercely. “Wait a minute. Do students run away from wizard school all the time?”
“Only the first night,” said Percival. “Dumbledore used to give them all the most fascinating lecture and a lemon drop before sending them back to bed. Nobody ever spoke about it afterward.”
“A lemon drop?” said Wycliffe with a yawn. “How do you know?”
“That’s beside the point.” Percival firmly closed the painting door and motioned the three of them to follow him and his illuminated wand. “There will probably be other students at the Headmistress’ office, so let’s move along and we can get you back in bed before you know it.”
The stone floor of the castle was chilly on Sweetie’s bare human feet and she was tempted to turn back into a unicorn except she would make an awful clatter in the silent hallways they were hustling down. Sparrow did not seem to mind making noise and trudged along with her trainers slapping against the floor until her pace turned back into her normal brisk stride.
“I didn’t see you following me,” said Sparrow, “but how did Wycliffe get here from the boy’s wing of the dormitory?”
“Something woke me up,” said Wycliffe. “I thought it was a house elf, but it poked me in the side until I came out from under the covers and then I noticed the room’s door was open.”
“House elves are not permitted in student’s rooms while they are present,” said Percival.
“Then who woke me up, Professor Weasley?”
“That is beside the point, Mister Nott. When we return to your dormitory room, we can see if Mister Chuffnell was pulling some sort of prank on you.”
Wycliffe opened his mouth as if to argue the point, but closed it rather quickly and remained quiet until they arrived at a spiral staircase ascending up into a shadowy room full of wonders. Sweetie was instantly entranced because so many of the silvery devices and bubbling pots full of colorful liquids looked very much like much of Twilight Sparkle’s laboratory, which she was forbidden to enter. That did not mean Sweetie had not peeked in once or twice, but those brief glances could not hold a cupcake to this magnificent seven-layer cake with frosting of a room.
Wood was definitely the theme, polished to a fine glow and sweeping around the room in great abundance where it framed crystalline panels protecting fascinating objects or supported shelves filled with whistling and spinning devices. Wood framed dozens of portraits of old wizards and witches all around them, most of which had their owners snoozing quietly in their chairs except for one that looked more recent than the rest, which just had an old wooden rocking chair and no human in it. There was even wood underfoot, buffed to a fine finish and warm on her toes after the stone floors of the castle, and curved around steps up and up and up to shelves and niches containing so many books that Twilight Sparkle would have immediately gone into a reading coma and been unable to be distracted for days.
At the far end of the room there was a wooden perch where a slumbering bird who looked much like Philomena was dozing, but the most important feature of the wonderful office was a majestic wooden desk covered in drawers and shelves that just cried out to be explored. Around it, comfortable wooden and padded armchairs were strewn around in abundance, one of which was big enough even for Hagrid the castle magical creatures teacher, although five straight-backed plain wooden chairs in front of the desk seemed to be their inevitable destination.
“Ahem,” called out Headmistress McGonagall from behind the desk. “Miss Belle, if you could please come here with the rest of your friends. We will begin in a few moments when our last errant student arrives.
Francis Helpenstell was sitting rather forlornly on one of the chairs spread out in front of the fascinating desk, his short brown hair lying flat against his head and a look of dread that not only covered his entire face but slopped over to everything else. Even his shoulders were bent into a slumping posture and his hands drawn up into his lap with his fingers intertwined, holding onto a small golden bit of metal. He obviously was not dressed to be in the Headmaster’s office since his golden and black tie was tied up in a messy knot with various bits and pieces of it sticking out in all directions, much like he had tied it in the pitch darkness. His large feet sticking out from under the school robe were likewise unprepared for the trip, since they were bundled up in a pair of red socks but with no shoes.
“Francis—” started Sweetie Belle, but Headmistress McGonagall cut her off with a sharp glance and a few short words.
“Please remain quiet, Miss Belle. Every one of you will get your chance to speak, and I’d prefer not to have anybody repeat what could be a painful confession.”
That was all well and good in the long term, but Francis seemed to be hurting so much that Sweetie could not just sit there and let him suffer in silence. She reached out one human hand and poked him on the side of his hind leg, continuing until he reached over to chase her sharp finger away. Then she captured his fingers in her own hand and just sat there.
At first, Francis made a token effort to reclaim his hand, but when Sweetie tightened her grip, he stopped tugging and just allowed his hand to be held. He did release her hand like it was red-hot when Evelyn Carnarvon came silently into the huge office, being escorted by a pretty young witch with flyaway hair suspended around her head like fog.
It took a moment for Sweetie to remember the older girl’s name was Luna since she looked nothing at all like an alicorn, but she could remember the sparkling cardboard glasses perfectly well. When she returned to Ponyville for the Hearth’s Warming break, she fully intended on bringing several pairs back for her friends, and at least one for Pinkie Pie.
“That should just about do it,” said Headmistress Mcgonagall with a sideways glance at a nearby portrait of a rather chubby lady with pink cheeks and a considerable amount of unruly mane which was tucked up into a kerchief. The lady in the painting nodded and scurried out of the frame, returning in a few moments with a second nod.
“They’re all sleeping, Headmistress,” he said.
“Very good, Dilys.” McGonagall turned and regarded the five students sitting in front of the desk on their hard wooden chairs, then her features softened. “I really didn’t expect so many of you would try to run away from Hogwarts,” she admitted.
“Sweetie and Wy didn’t try to run off,” said Sparrow rapidly. “They followed me. You can probably send them back—”
“One moment, young lady.” McGonagall fixed Sparrow with a firm look, much the same as Princess Celestia would focus on Twilight Sparkle when she was getting ahead of herself. “I generally do not permit other people to speak when I am talking, particularly students. When you become Headmistress, you can determine the punishment for breaking school rules.”
Wycliffe made a subdued snorting noise, which Headmistress McGonagall ignored.
“Five out of seventeen First Year students out of bed after hours,” she said, “and three from my House. That’s far above average.”
Francis jerked like he had been poked with a pin and looked up from where he had been closely examining the floor. “Average? This has happened before.”
“Every year we have a few,” said McGonagall. “Over the years, some of the students have later reached high office, all the way up to other Headmasters and Prime Ministers, so it is not a great disqualifier for your future. In fact, House points have never been taken for this offense.”
Sparrow let out her breath rather loudly, and Wycliffe poked her in the side while the Headmistress continued.
“I’ll be bringing you all by my office later in the week for a long talk, but for now, I would like to hear a brief explanation of why you were out of bed tonight, starting with you, Miss Carnarvon.”
“Me?” Evelyn jerked upright in the chair, making her long silky mane sway in enticing waves. Her crystal blue eyes darted around the room as if seeking some human to interrupt, but she eventually just looked up at the Headmistress with a nervous swallow. “I just… I had to get away. I wasn’t thinking. There wasn’t anything specific. I was afraid, so I just had to run.”
Headmistress McGonagall nodded. “A perfectly normal sensation for being in a new place with such a dangerous recent history. Be assured that you are safer here than practically anywhere else in the wizarding world. Miss Lovegood will escort you back to your rooms and see you settled back in with a brief lecture about the security of the school. There will not be any negative consequences for your action tonight. Any future violations of the school rules will be treated normally. Do you understand?”
Evelyn nodded briefly and resumed looking down at the floor, although not looking quite so sad. Sweetie made up her mind to see if she could be enticed into a new manestyle later. Her sister always said a few hours spent in a salon were never wasted.
“Mister Helpenstell,” continued the Headmistress. “Your turn.”
Francis unclasped his hands and looked up. “No excuse, ma’am.”
Raising one eyebrow, Headmistress McGonagall fixed the chunky young human with a solemn look. “You sound very much like our fathers, despite the differences in their denominations. Oh, yes. My father was a minister also.”
“A preacher’s kid?” blurted out Francis with wide eyes.
“Not the most comfortable place in the world to be found,” admitted the Headmistress. “One would expect a place in Hogwarts would be a comforting calm in a world of religious turmoil. Well, relatively.”
“It is.” Francis nodded vigorously, although slowing in short order. “It’s just… I really don’t know why I was leaving. I just got up and left. I didn’t even put on my shoes,” he added, looking down at his stockinged feet.
Headmistress McGonagall made a very peculiar and subtle motion that Sweetie just barely managed to catch. Her eyes flicked to Wycliffe and back again while her expression remained perfectly unchanged, much like when some of the older ponies were considering the guilt of her Ponyville friends without saying anything out loud.
Sparrow looked about to say something when Wycliffe jabbed her in the ribs again, resulting in a brief but silent glare in return.
“Shoes do appear to be optional in this year’s escape attempts,” said McGonagall, deliberately looking down at Sweetie Belle’s bare toes. “Still, we can’t take a chance on you catching cold from your late-night walk and you’re looking a bit flushed, so your Head Boy will escort you to the hospital wing to spend the night. It will do Madame Pomfrey good to have a simple case of the chills to start off the year. Which brings us to—”
“Me,” said Sparrow, although she covered her mouth immediately afterward.
“You’re at least dressed for the evening,” said McGonagall, seeming not to be bothered by the interruption at all. Her sharp blue eyes examined Sparrow from her tight-laced trainers to the leather jacket with the fur collar, then lingered on her knapsack. “Packed for a trip, I presume?”
“I really don’t belong here,” said Sparrow rapidly. “I mean this is a magic school for magic kids and I’m just a weirdo who never made any real friends and I don’t even know anything about magic other than in games so although I know I’ve gotta be trained to keep from becoming an obscurus thing, I thought maybe one of my uncles could just tutor me instead.”
Headmistress McGonagall did not say anything, which turned out to be the best way to keep Sparrow talking.
“So I took the books I didn’t read yet,” continued Sparrow a bit slower and less frantic, “except for potions which just sounded weird and stuffed them into Sweetie’s knapsack since I couldn’t find mine and brought my phone so I could call my parents once I got out of the weird magic stuff here that keeps it from working. I figured they could call one of my uncles and he could come get me and that’s about it.”
“Practical,” said McGonagall with a short nod. “How did you plan on finding your way?”
“Well, duh!” Sparrow scowled slightly. “The other students all took carriages here from the train station, which would have been more practical than bringing us in by boat even if it wouldn’t have been as much fun. All I had to do was follow that road back to the train station. There was a map of town on the wall there…”
Sweetie was almost immediately lost with the way that Sparrow described which streets she would have taken on her way to the main road out of town, with a detailed list of how many turns and intersections needed to be navigated. When she ended with a display of her flashlight and how it was supposed to work outside of the magical environment of the castle, Sweetie had to admit to herself that the plan was certainly worked out in far greater detail than any one of the Cutie Mark Crusader’s so-called plans. Even Twilight Sparkle would have approved, although probably taken points off her score for a lack of checklists and of course the fact that her attempt to escape failed before it really started.
Headmistress McGonagall was not impressed, at least on the surface. She turned to Sweetie Belle and merely raised one eyebrow.
“I followed her,” said Sweetie. “She’s not very quiet and kept tripping over things in the dark. I thought she was just sneaking out for a snack or something. And Wycliffe was woke up by somepony and he followed me.”
“Mister Nott can speak for himself,” said McGonagall, although she obviously looked at Wycliffe’s slippers, then Sweetie’s bare toes again.
“I was taught to mind my own business,” said Wycliffe just a bit under his breath. “Then the first thing I do in Hogwarts is get sorted into a House that my father hated, and then I follow something that woke me up when I was just getting to sleep. Not a very auspicious first day at Hogwarts.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse,” said Headmistress McGonagall. “At least you had the presence of mind to put on slippers. As for what woke you up…’
A portrait next to the Headmistress boiled with darkness and a familiar form of an ebon alicorn appeared in the dramatic way that Princess Luna preferred, although there was a much smaller alicorn held in its mouth the same way a mother cat would hold a kitten.
“This evening has been filled with surprises,” said the Headmistress. “It seems that the Portraiture Charm that your elder brother used to capture a fragment of Princess Luna’s essence captured two of them.”
“That’s the Tantabus,” blurted out Sweetie. “I recognize it from the night when it went a little crazy and tried to escape. It’s a little part of Princess Luna that she separated to act as a guardian, or at least that’s what Twilight Sparkle said. But I don’t remember the little one.”
“Nightmare Moon, or at least what is left of her,” said the Headmistress, frowning severely at the tiny alicorn, who quit struggling to escape so she could give a plaintive begging look instead. “We had the most fascinating quiet discussion. It appears Equestrians are not restricted by the Portraiture Charm in the same fashion as wizards and witches.”
“She can stay at the Ravenclaw House,” piped up the young witch who had been escorting Evelyn. “We could have a sleepover.”
“Miss Lovegood, please restrain yourself.” McGonagall made a subtle gesture at the painting and the two shadowy alicorns vanished behind the frame, although Sweetie could see them pass through several other paintings on their way out of the office at a gallop with the smaller alicorn looking terribly disappointed.
“Do try not to encourage the portraits,” said the Headmistress to nopony in particular. “It is time for students to return to their beds, having the benefit of your first lesson before classes start. Everybody please follow your Head Boy or Girl and see about getting a good night sleep. Miss Lovegood, no detours. Professor Weasely, you are to return here after seeing the students back to their dormitories. And Miss Lilley, leave the knapsack.”
Sparrow was caught bending over and looked up with her hand grasping one strap.
“You have no further need of it this evening, and we will see it returned in good time,” said McGonnagal. “Now, off to your beds. Hurry up. It is quite late and you have a busy day ahead of you.”
As the sun touched the horizon on the way to darkness, Theodore Nott could not help but realize how much being in a city this large disturbed him. After all, he had lived his entire life next to a bog, in a nature sanctuary where wizards and witches were forbidden, and spent his summers helping keep poachers away from what little snidget habitat was left. The preserve had no end of interesting plants and creatures tucked into every corner and hollow, leaving him plenty of time at home to explore while avoiding the other Wardens.
Wizards who voluntarily stayed around a bog were not the most social creatures. Even his own family kept to themselves. Ponies, however…
The excuse Theodore wanted to use was that after spending all day in the crystal castle studying so many pages of the previous cursebreakers’ reports, he just needed to get out for some air. In truth, his skin was beginning to crawl, and getting out onto the darkening streets at a brisk walk was not really helping.
The ponies were by nature a quiet and friendly sort, like an entire city of Hufflepuffs engaged in a perpetual smiling contest. That would not have been bad in itself, but beneath that happy exterior, in the cracks and crevices of their lives, lurked a deep darkness. Every unexpected clatter of a dropped object, each shadow that fell over them, and the smiling pleasant pony turned into a terrified rabbit hiding from an attacking hawk. Oh, they apologized, of course. Rumors of his presence had turned the citizens into his biggest cheering section, ten thousand rabbits eager to see somebody else face the invisible rabid bear. If he had given in to his natural tendencies, Theodore could have strolled through the daytime marketplace like a conqueror, snacking from every food booth and filling his pockets with any trinkets that caught his eye.
As night fell and the shutters closed, the city was a far different place. If he had any doubts about King Sombra when the sun was shining and the city twinkled under its light….
Shadows moved when he glanced away, with every rustle of breezes in the crystalline bushes and faint creak of shifting stone underfoot. The inherent magic of the city swallowed up all the sensory charms and detecting spells he cast as if they never existed, leaving Theodore to meander among the lumpy stone buildings like some sort of stray cat searching for a mouse. Only in this case, the mouse had fangs. Nearly all of the noises could be dismissed as natural or products of his own imagination…
Until Theodore heard the distinctive click of hooves on stone behind him.
The city streets were not his comfortable bog of home, and had far fewer places to hide for both stalker and stalkee. Long hours of practice and just a touch of luck allowed Theodore to work his way behind his unseen follower, take a few moments to adjust his approach, then reach out with his wand to touch the cloaked pony.
“Don’t move,” he whispered.
The pony promptly collapsed into a trembling heap. “Don’t kill me!” whispered New Leaf, shaking like his namesake and looking remarkably pale in the faint starlight.
After a moment to look around for perhaps a competent assassin, Theodore crouched down and tried not to tremble himself with the release of nervous tension. “Leaf,” he chastised, “what are you doing outside tonight?”
“I’m sorry!” hissed Leaf through his clenched teeth that did not impede his ability to rattle onward at top speed. “I saw you slip away and I was worried and I thought you might get caught in one of Sombra’s traps so I followed you and when we got out into the city I was too afraid to go back and I didn’t want to say anything because you might get angry with me or kill me and hide the body and then you vanished in the alley here and I thought I’d have to find my way back in the dark and I’m sorry!” he finished in a near wail that was cut off when Theodore put his hand over the unicorn’s cold lips. There was not much of a chance that his fellow cursebreaker was putting on an act unless he was exceedingly talented, and from the smell, willing to pee on himself in the process. Worse, Leaf continued to shudder and shake on the cold crystal flagstones of the alley until Theodore considered he might be having some sort of fit.
“Please,” gasped the shaking unicorn, “don’t leave me.”
To be honest, Theodore had considered it. New Leaf was a weak link in his employment chain, but he was just about the only link, and… was just so pathetic. The unicorn was not even trying to hold onto Theodore’s leg, or looking up at him with begging eyes. Still, it was a novel feeling to have some creature afraid for Theodore, so afraid that he was willing to plunge into a city that he was starkly terrified about. Slytherins were trained not to stick their necks out unless it was for some clever plan, but the possibility of New Leaf using this as some sort of ploy to gain sympathy was infinitesimal.
“So much a Hufflepuff. Just a moment.” Using one hand was awkward, but he needed to keep a hand on New Leaf’s cold lips while retrieving a potion from the collection on his belt. “Here. Drink it. No, don’t dribble. Yes, right down.”
The trembling stopped immediately, New Leaf’s eyes opened wide, and steam began to drift up from his ears. Pepper-Up potions at least seemed to work on the Equestrians the same as wizards, and Theodore made a mental note to see if his assistant would like to try some of the others in his collection, just for scientific curiosity, of course.
“Whaaaaat…” New Leaf sucked in a breath through his mouth, which set him coughing, most likely from the wintergreen flavoring. “What was that?”
“Something to give you a little pick-me-up. Which you needed. Badly.” Theodore braced himself and began to lift Leaf’s head which caused the unicorn to scramble to his hooves, still dripping around the hindquarters. “Feeling better?”
“Some.” Leaf’s eyes flitted from shadow to shadow. “Still terrified. Can we go back? Now?”
“Might as well,” admitted Theodore. He nudged New Leaf in the direction of the alley entrance, although he drew his wand again and held it against the outside of his trouser leg on the other side. “I didn’t find what I was looking for, anyway.”
That did not calm down the panicked unicorn one bit, and he leaned against Theodore like he was a life-vest salesman on a sinking ship, nudging him forward as they walked. “W-w-what were you looking for?”
“I’m not sure.” Giving another look around while they proceeded, slower than Leaf wanted but still at a fair walk, Theodore considered the shadows around them. With companionship, even the terrified unicorn, the city seemed less dangerous and more filled with opportunity for an enterprising young wizard. There were answers out there, and finding them was going to take hard work. He just needed to ask the right questions. “I thought Sombra’s influence would be stronger at night, I guess, and I was seeing if I could… I’m not sure.”
“Humans are crazy.” Leaf pulled a little away from his pressure against Theodore’s leg, but still close enough to touch. “You were looking for him? What would you have done if you f-found him?”
“Used every noisy spell I could until the Crystal Guard showed up,” admitted Theodore. “Shining Armor seemed to think they were able to take on about anything.”
The renewed pressure of a worried unicorn pressing against his leg while they walked proved silent witness to the lack of confidence that New Leaf felt about the guards. It did not necessarily make Theodore feel any better about their security either. “Did you tell the guards you were leaving tonight?” he asked once the warmth of the castle was close enough.
“Not really,” hedged Leaf.
“That means no. To be fair, I didn’t either.” Theodore observed the distant guards with a thoughtful frown. They were arranged in pairs by the various doors into the glittering structure, but he did not see any kind of enthusiasm on their part for investigating strange noises in the night or taking leisurely strolls through the darkness like Theodore’s small group. “Security should be tighter for anybody trying to sneak into the castle. Hmm…”
“You’re not…?” Leaf looked up, then at the castle, then back up with a little less tension in his expression. “I don’t think they’re really trying to guard against… him.”
“There still are other creatures out here in the darkness that could pose a threat to the Royal Family,” argued Theodore quietly. “Or us. As loyal employees, we should at least test their security for flaws. After all, I really don’t want to be killed in my sleep.”
“I don’t want to be killed,” said Leaf firmly. “I don’t want to be killed trying to break into the castle either.”
“Then we’ll just have to be careful.” Theodore stretched and gave his wand a cautionary flick. “It’ll be just like all the stories I told Wycliffe about sneaking out of Hogwarts, only without Filch’s blasted cat.”
The Headmaster’s office in Hogwarts had seen many strange meetings in the middle of the night. This was one of them. For a change, it even included a happy cat.
The cat’s owner was not happy. McGonagall had never really seen Argus Filch happy, but this was a degree of not-happy that could normally only be found with the Weasley twins and a case of ignited fireworks. Mrs. Noris was ignoring him and happy indeed. It was a most unusual occurrence to see the unpleasant cat curled up and purring, something that McGonagall had believed to be possible in theory but had never seen it in practice.
“Sorry it took so long,” said Percy as he came bursting into the office front door. “Sweetie Belle had a number of questions and…”
He slowed as the eyes of the Hogwarts professors all looked up from their inspection of the black knapsack sitting innocuously in the center of the Headmistress’ woven rug. There was only one chair remaining between Sybill Trelawney and Professor Sinistra, so Percy quietly walked around the bulk of Hagrid and settled into his obvious place without any more words. Since there was little else for him to do, he looked around the circle of professors, all of whom appeared to have been pulled from their beds by the number of curlers and bathrobes in attendance, then back at the knapsack with the purring cat on top of it. If he had been any one of the other Weasley brothers, McGonagall would have expected some sort of pithy comment, but working at the Ministry of Magic must have suppressed some of those family traits.
“Observations?” she asked.
“I want my cat back,” said Filch in a near-growl.
“In good time, Argus. Now, the rest of you?” asked McGonnagal.
“Absolutely fascinating,” said Professor Flitwick, who was leaning so far forward he was about to fall off his chair. “Extremely subtle.”
“Still don’t see nuttin’ other’n the obvious,” said Hagrid, who had both hands around his pink umbrella and resting on it like a cane. He seemed to have aged a decade in the last year, at least on the outside, but his deep voice was as powerful as always and his glittering dark eyes never left the knapsack.
“It’s an omen, if you ask me,” declared Trelawney, who was squinting in the general direction of the purring noise without looking directly at it. She took a sip of her tea and placed a saucer on the chair’s armrest, quite obviously intent on reading the leaves once she was done drinking. “Weal or woe, that’s the question.”
“Questions we are not getting answers to at the moment. Professor Slughorn, if you please.” She accepted the small crystal vial and stepped forward to hold it over the knapsack. “Mrs Norris, please move.”
It is the nature of cats to ignore the commands of humans, but McGonnagal had enough cat in her for the furry menace to rise slowly to her paws and pad silently over to Filch, who picked her up and tucked her under one arm.
Ever so carefully, McGonnagal dripped three drops of a clear liquid over the knapsack, then passed the vial back to Slughorn without comment. She stepped back, raised her wand, and stopped when Flitwick hopped off his chair.
“Headmistress!” he squeaked. “If it is what you think, the standard counterspell could be dangerous. Allow me, please.”
“You are the expert at charms.” McGonagal nodded and stepped back, although she held her wand at the ready like the rest of the professors. “Proceed with caution.”
“Dangerous?” asked Percy with a quick sideways glance at the rest of the wand-wielding professors, although Flitwick was already bouncing on his toes and readying his own wand.
“Hippomorphus!” he exclaimed with a complicated gesture of his wand, and the knapsack abruptly was not a knapsack any more.
Instead, there was a rather odd pony-sized insect standing in the middle of the circle of professors, regarding them without a blink of his oversized teal eyes. At first glance, it could have been mistaken for a small black unicorn with a bad case of mange, or at least by Professor Trelawney, but Hagrid took in a sharp breath of air and his eyes lit up with joy.
The distraction gave McGonagall an opportunity to take a second look at the insectile intruder and the way it differed from the magical creatures she had encountered over the years. The small bughorse was a blackish-grey with a short horn and several holes in various limbs, making it appear somewhat like a lacewing insect that had been dunked into a pot of ink. There were no obvious signs of organic weaponry, but that did not mean very much when dealing with unknown magical creatures, although the look of shock on its insectile/equine face was unmistakable.
The creature glanced from one side to another in short, jerky motions that did not seem to bother any of the wand-holding wizards and witches, then it turned a nervous gaze on the Headmistress.
“Parley?” it buzzed.