Morty didn’t know what he expected when the door smoothly opened (not having the decency to provide a nice ominous creak even), but he had a sudden, fondly nostalgic flashback to the first time he ever stepped foot into Hogwarts, how he met Old Professor McGonagel, his head of house for the first time, with her stern pinched features and severe bun setting the no nonsense tone the deputy headmistress doubtlessly wished could've remained in effect after the first few days of the start of a new term before it wore off in the face of all the wondrous delights of Hogwarts in the minds of the jangle of precocious first years. he chuckled fondly in remembrance, he'd been no different.
Morty shook his head, amused at his own nostalgia and perhaps somewhat surprised by the the sudden trips down memory lane he had been having lately, he hadn’t thought of her in centuries!
'My this rebirth stuff really hits a guy in the ol’ golden years,' he thought to himself bemusedly.
Though the fact that he was once again attending a magic school after so long, coincidentally at the same age he had been when he was Harry Potter, he supposed that drawing the long dead past into the present was going to happen from time to time, especially with someone as old as him.
Of course, the figure that answered the door now wasn’t a stern Scottish witch, it was a stern and very burly royal guard in golden armor combined with the dark grey pelt and mane/tail of the Personal Royal Guards, a flavor of the Clone Guild -he liked to think of Equestria's guards pretty much in that light for obvious reasons - and was not just any ordinary royal guard, but the small selection of military that catered directly to the personal protection of the Princess of Canterlot herself.
The stallion snorted down at him once, unimpressed at the sight of the squirty fluff tail, but was duty bound to question him anyway, so Morty quickly pulled out his letter of admittance which contained the royal seal of acceptance for candidacy into the prestigious school.
Morty was not put off by the guard, since it was likely that the Princess might be lurking about the school she had founded personally. it was only logical that from time to time the royal was inclined to visit what she founded, as well as look around to take a personal student under her wing from time to time, something he had read about when looking into the school, though of these lucky students, there was usually only one every 10 years or so.
The guard huffed to himself "another student, oh joy," but let him through and as his letter was ogled, Harry mentally dubbed him Captain Crankypants, and considering the naming trend in this world, it may have even been his or some other pony's name for all he knew.
The guard eventually directed him to walk further down the hall and take the first right, and continue walking until he reached a set of large oak doors with the bust of Star Swirl the Bearded on either side, apparently it was not that hard to miss.
Morty’s hooves echoed loudly in the silent arched hallways as he looked around himself curiously, noting the white and purple checkered floor tiling, the pale lavender marble pillars spaced evenly in rows, the various portraits of important looking ponies that were obviously alumni or prominent donators or teachers at one point or other, and he noticed display cases with various academic awards, photos, and the occasional art piece.
The classrooms meanwhile were evenly spaced along either side much like a regular school, though the doors were somewhat uniquely designed, and were the only non-purple structure to the building. He paused outside one door which was covered in trailing vines and the occasional star shaped white flowers giving off a faint scent of something sweet and spicy. There was a little plaque, barely discernible, that declared “Herbology Magics.”
“Huh,” Morty mused, at least he didn’t have to worry about getting lost in this place.
He finally managed to reach the imposing doors framed between the two busts, which bore the crest of Princess Celestia’s Cutie mark and politely knocked on the well-polished hardwood.
The door opened a few minutes later and revealed one of the oldest ponies Morty had ever seen (or at least looked her age).
“So, you’re the latest newbie huh?” The old mare huffed, her thin dark grey mane was pulled back in a bun, and her knobby old body was a faded grayish blue with a few threads of white here and there. Despite her apparent great age, the mare that sat behind that large claw footed mahogany desk nearly overwhelmed by her paperwork, showed a level of sharp alertness in her one good grayish-blue eye that spoke of taking no poop from anyone.
She gestured him forward with one gnarled hoof, her forelegs encased amusingly enough in a bright purple and black striped set of leg warmers.
The headmaster, for she could be none other, took his acceptance letter, giving it a brief perusal before impaling it on a giant metal nail with a bunch of other similarly worded fancy acceptance letters and grumbled to herself nonsensically as she pulled out a small stack of files, muttering about paper work and something about her dinner and an apple cobbler with a decidedly suspicious air.
Eventually the mare, who had not bothered to introduce herself, though he was aware of who she as of course from the preparatory pamphlet that had been sent with the letter, pulled out one file and after opening it, the contents levitated around her head swiftly until she found what she was after before packing themselves away after she gave an amused, but satisfied snort, turned her attention back to Morty and said.
“Since it is already passed our morning and afternoon testing period, you’ll get to enjoy a bit of a more prolonged state of escalating anxiety over your admittance until tomorrow afternoon where you will be taking your entrance exam in Class room 12d in front of a selection of faculty who will determine your final admittance. In the meanwhile,” The Headmaster levitated him a card, “here is the name of a small Inn that is across from the school’s main doors, The Dainty Dive, which offers rooms to waiting applicants. I take it your family’s not with you?”
Morty shook his head, pocketing the slip in his saddle bag.
“Well, all the easier gettin’ a room then. See you at an hour after high-noon tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
The last held a dire warning to her tone.
Morty hastily bowed his head and left the mare to her business, musing that she was definitely as impressive and intimidating as her reputation painted her. Headmaster Inkwell (1) did not suffer fools, and was perhaps a bit...well, alright, more then a bit, senile, but definitely cut a figure that demanded respect, even if it was creaky and old. Morty rather liked her.
ooo ooo ooo
The Inn/Tavern that Morty ended up staying at had the air of every other countless thousands of taverns that he had stayed at in his long existence, though he had to admit this place had perhaps the best Sweet n' Spicey haydogs he'd ever tasted.
After a hearty meal, he meandered through the area a bit until he found a small out of the way park that didn't look like it saw much hoof traffic, and settled in, pulling out the latest tell all autobiography of Metallicolt (2).
He was just at the part where James Hoofield was recounting his first Hearth's Warming concert, when Morty was brought out of his read by his horn dinging repetitively, an alarm spell he had set to alert him 20 minutes before his entrance exam.
When he got to the examination room, He wasn't the only one of course, there were three other unicorns ahead of him, standing with their parents or by themselves as they shifted from hoof to hoof, looking nervous, or muttering various bits of magical theory under their breath.
He stood in the back, slightly apart from the group, and pulled out his book again.
He wasn't nervous. After all, it was no skin off his muzzle if he got in or not. The only reason he had decided to attend in the first place was because he had yet to travel outside of Hayfield, and he was somewhat bored waiting for his Pony majority so he could leave home without alarming his parents or being sent back by concerned ponies.
This was also an opportunity to kill time that had fallen into his lap, and some of his fondest memories were from his times attending magic school, so why not?
Of course it would be disappointing for his parents, and going home after just getting here would not be fun, but still, it wasn't the be-all end-all that the other fillies, colts, and their parents seemed to be treating it as.
Morty had just finished another chapter when his name was called by a stallion in a green plaid jacket with short swept back black mane.
The exam room was a standard lecture hall that could be found in any university, though the sunlight filtering in through the purple windows added a certain ambiance.
A group of four stiff necked ponies with clip boards were seated in the middle front row, looking distinctly bored and disapproving all at once.
He was presented with a wooden cart filled with various objects from stuffed toys, to bits of machinery, gleaming gemstones, seeds, to even a few live creatures.
Morty was told to do something creative, whatever he wanted with anything in the barrel.
Morty eyed the collection considerately as the adults began to scratch at their clipboards already. In the far corner under a teddy bear, he happened to spot a large green frog in a small aquarium that croaked up at him nervously, which no one could blame the frog for, as the colt looking down at him had a sudden distinctly mischievous/evil look in his eye as a brilliant idea, induced from his still nostalgic mood, popped into his noggin.
The pony levitated the frog out of it's shelter and onto a near by desk. Then there was a poof of dark green smoke and a tiny black top hat and a smart shiny black cane came into existence next to the frog. The frog then began glowing eerily for a moment, before suddenly standing up on it's hind legs, picking up the hat and slapping it on its head, then picking the cane up in it's hands and suddenly began to dance while singing in a surprisingly good voice.
"Hello my baby! Hello my honey! Hello my rag time gaaaal! Send me a kiss by wire
Baby, my hearts on fire..."(3)
The frog began a series of high-kicks.
Except for the frog, the room was dead silent as the examiners stared.
The number was relatively short, and when it was done, the frog bowed and suddenly returned to acting like a normal frog again, croaking rather confusedly and still wearing its top hot.
The group of assessors blinked as one in unison, having been collectively transfixed by the...display, before they shook themselves out of it and began writing furiously.
Morty was dismissed for the day, which was the norm, as the assessors usually took about 24 hours to come to a decision and inform the potential applicant by mail the next day. Since he was literally just across the way, he would find out likely by tomorrow afternoon.
ooo ooo ooo
The next morning, Morty spent in his room, enjoying a game of chess with Death.
“You are so cliché you know that?” Morty commented idly, "Why do you always want to play chess?" he hummed as he eyed his knight’s precarious position.
“Says the mysterious magic boy going to prestigious magic school,” Death retorted, then gave a battle cry as his queen descended upon Morty’s knight victoriously.
Morty pouted, then said with a sniff "well I think you just like how Bengt Ekerot played you in that Ingmar Bergman flim that you've made me watch a few gazillion times." (4)
“So anyway, since you’re going to be occupied with all that boring learning stuff, “ Death continued, ignoring the comment about his favorite film as he eyed Morty’s trembling bishop considerately, “I am going to be scarce for a while.”
Morty chuckled, “What? You don’t want to wile away the time watching me take exams and wade through the social awkwardness of little pre-teen pony drama?”
Death pulled a face, or as much as a relatively formless black cloud could, “Ick no! any way Life has been getting on my case about my bad influence again, something about you using me as a crutch to be antisocial.”
Both beings rolled their eyes (literally and figuratively).
After Death had trounced him in both chess, twister, and Mario Cart 3 (popped out of one of Death’s little dimensional closet bubbles), Morty got his letter of acceptance before he was even finished his onion rings.
Death teased him a bit more, then faded out of existence without even a goodbye, something that was fairly common between the two of them, as both were not much for niceties.
According to the letter, Morty was due within 3 days time for the beginning of the semester and it was advised he move in a bit early if he could so that he can get used to the school’s lay out.
Morty shrugged, tossed the letter into his saddlebag and pulled out a book, deciding he would do it all tomorrow.