Cutie Marks.
Now there was a rather disturbing concept.
Morty remembered one particular mark, which thankfully had not followed him into his new body, that had defined him because of a singular moment in time, a rare instance of surviving a Death Curse and defeating, temporarily, the Dark Lord who cast it.
Harry James Potter had been defined by his mark, the boy-who-lived, more then the boy attached to it. It had molded him into a warrior, a leader, a sacrifice.
It was not amusing that he was going to have to deal with that nonsense again.
Still, he found that being without a cutie mark defined you even more, the term Blank Flank began being tossed his way by other foals when he reached the age that every little pony does when they started getting their mark (a little young in Morty’s opinion to discovering your special talent that played a big role in defining what you did with the rest of your life) he was one of only a few that had yet to discover their talent already, though as time passed, and time was drawing closer towards when he would have to leave for the next term at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, Morty’s fellow outcasts eventually discovered their talent, and soon, by the time he was waiting for the next train to Canterlot, his father tearfully giving him crushing hugs and his mother instructing him, yet again, on the directions to the campus, he was still bare-rumped.
Not that he overly minded he supposed.
"It's not that hard to find mum," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes, "its bloody part of the palace, its kind of hard to miss that," his mother, who had for the gazillonth time reiterated the directions to the school from the map that had been provided with his letter.
His mother huffed softly and gently ruffled his permanently ruffled mane, "alright sweetie, just remember to..."
"-write you every week," Morty finished, "and there's bits in my saddlebag for something to eat if I get hungry, and to make sure that I don't over exhaust my magic during classes...I know the drill."
Eventually, the train arrived with a cheerful whistle, It wasn't the smooth red steam engine of Hogwarts, but it had its own head-on-collision-with-a-candy-factory appeal he supposed.
he turned back to both his parents, and felt his demeanor soften at the proud look from his mother and the tearful eyes of his father, before he heaved up on his hindlegs and gave them both a hug. He wished them a fond goodbye and boarded the train, levitating his trunk behind him, his new chestnut brown saddlebags bumping on his flanks as he practically skipped aboard and found a seat.
When Hayfield and his waving parents were a long distance behind him, Morty pulled out the latest Daring Do, and settled in for a good read, alone this time since Death was currently already in Canterlot, circling a pony about to die of alcohol poisoning.
As he read, his mind occasionally drifted back yet again to cutie marks. Death had been to amused by Morty’s blank flank teasing, and had been vastly unhelpful in the matter, stating that it was not up to him if he had a cutie mark or not, when he had broached the matter with the entity, curious if he would even have one, given his unconventional background, his companion stating, "it's so obvious what your mark is going to be, and even when you do get it, these little ponies still wont know what it means!" Death'd had a good cackle at that.
Morty had nothing to say on the matter, and wasn't bothered at all by the teasing as his centuries of being stared at as an immortal being back on Earth had long inured him to the fickle gazes of others, one of the benefits of old age he supposed. Still at some point he supposed he was going to have to do something or other about it, after all there was no such thing as as an adult blank flank when your a pony.
Another problem for another time, he decided eventually, and turned his brain back to his book.
ooo ooo ooo
Harry's first impression of Canterlot was that this was definitely a place for the elite.
It was a busy city, but at the same time there was a sedateness to it that comes from a predominantly upper-class neighborhood on the level of an entire city in this case instead of just a section of it. Pony's, mostly unicorns, wandered from shop to shop, muzzles occasionally in the air, or dinning on expensive foods in little outdoor cafe's that held velvet cushioned seats and gold or silver wrought frames.
The place was also rather clean, ridiculously so, with near by trash can's gleaming in the sunlight, looking more decoration then anything, and sidewalks so sparkling it looked like you could eat off them.
There wasn't a cobble out of place or a smudge to be found, which was both fascinating and disturbing on various levels for the young Master of Death.
There were many ivory towers with golden spires that rose majestically along Harry's path, becoming more predominant the closer to the castle he came, and many waterfalls and rivers in small parks or under elegantly curved bridges with jeweled filigree through it.
There were old matrons in soft angora shawls encrusted with diamond beads feeding the many fat colorful fish and elegant sweeping cranes and swans that swam through out, or young couples enraptured more with each other kissing and snuggling.
There coffee shops where the delicious smells of freshly ground beans and hot pastries filled the air tantalizingly, a high-class restaurant in which Harry swore he spotted the infamous rising star Sapphire Shores, still so young to have become so famous already, dining on spaghetti, sports arenas were excited sounds of some sort of event or other was taking place, a theater, currently closed in preparation for a show later that evening featuring a mare in a half mask and a faint stallion in her grasp, and art galleries of every imaginable art form sowed through out every corner.
Not to say that it was all dreamlike utopian excess, there were a few things that did remind one that this was the royal seat of the country, such as the occasional patrols of winged or hoofed royal guard sighted on the streets, the shadows of the many matronly statues and busts of Princess Celestia, diplomats, wizards, or a few war heroes from bouts of half-forgotten turbulent times in history.
Then of course there was the castle itself.
During his first decade while on the run from the Wizarding World, he'd had a chance to come across both the books and the movies based on the books, by J. R. R. Tolkien called Lord of the Rings and thought that if it weren't highly impossible, that the architects of the castle that stood before him had read those books and kept them in mind during its construction. It reminded him strongly of the depictions of Minas Tirith, with its sprawling glowing white walls and spires, though this one was perhaps more colorful with its etchings of purples, golds, pastel blues, and pinks, big enough to fit several Hogwarts comfortably, and it was was even carved into the side of a mountain!
On his way up towards the castle, there were a couple of times in which Morty had to get through the various check points at the entrance to the inner walls. The lands surrounding the Castle was divided into three sections separate from the outermost ring of Canterlot:
The first outermost area being the various businesses and parks that catered to the elite of the elite and high end merchant class, as well as where the libraries, museums, primary schools, non-magic academies, and grand parks existed. Then the second tier, where the distant royal families and few notable elites had properties. Then the third tier where the castle entrance was, including the courtyard, banquet halls, seat of parliament, labyrinths, and personal quarters of the immediate royal family as well as the Guard barracks resided.
Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns straddled the second and third tier, as it was literally built part-way into the dividing wall, with the front most in the second tier. This was in part, according to the book Morty had perused about it, so that Celestia herself could easily traverse from the castle proper to the school, as well as for the ease of the occasional foal from the immediate royal family, who automatically attended without need of going through the application processes that many unicorns have to go through.
"Great Me! what is this place and its obsession with purple?!" a voice groaned from Morty's immediate right.
Morty snorted as Death pulled a face at the decor, "nice of you to join me," the colt huffed, though he could see Death's point. The school was almost entirely purple, and had a look like a cross between a mini castle and the birthplace of William Shakespeare from his previous life.
"Well, someone needed to see you off to your first day of magic school," Death hummed, its dark smoky body vibrating with amusement.
Morty huffed again, neatly sidestepping Death's half-hearted swipe at his vulnerable fluffy tail (hair usually came back slower then a bit of flesh and bone for some reason), as being tailless was certainly not the image he wanted to present in this posh place as a first impression and walked up to the imposing steps to the dark violet doors with the name of the school etched in gold and silver, and rang the door bell with a flick of magic at the amethyst handled silver pull chain.
There was silence from inside of course, obviously the door bell was spelled to alert the proper heads further inside without disturbing the rest of the school.
A few minutes later, the sharp clip-clop of manicured hooves approached the doors, and they opened.