• Published 23rd Apr 2017
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Magic School Days - Dogger807

When the CMC asked Discord to help them attend magic school, he pulled an owl out of his hat. Only he didn't exactly have a hat. Which was okay, since their new school had a singing one laying around. Where the hay was Hogwarts anyway?

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Chapter 18: Abnormal Incident

After a short wait, it was Spike who opened the door. “R-r-rarity!” he stuttered upon seeing the white mare. “Welcome! Come in! Come in!”

“Spiky-wikey,” Rarity cooed in response. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Hello, Spike,” Rainbow Dash said. Applejack added, “Howdy.”

“Applejack. Rainbow Dash.” Spike waved absently without taking his eyes off Rarity. “Hello.”

“At least he noticed us this time,” Rainbow Dash snickered as she walked into the library proper.

“Spike, would you mind getting Twilight?” Rarity asked, batting her eyelashes. “We need to talk to her about something concerning the Crusaders.”

“I’m right here, actually,” Twilight said, trotting into the room. “Hi, girls; what’s up?”

“Oh hey, Twilight.” Rainbow waved a forehoof in greeting. “The Crusaders were part of an incident today, and we’d like some advice.”

“Were ‘part of’ or were ‘the cause of’?” Twilight inquired, trotting over to stand by her friends.

“My ‘I told you so’ sense is tingling,” Spike said, moving his attention away from Rarity.

“Oh hush, Spike.” Twilight stamped a forehoof softly as emphasis. “I’ve already told you there is no such thing as ghosts.”

“No such things as ghosts?” Rarity repeated, eyes going wide. “Twilight, darling, did you happen to provide the girls with a spell on resurrections?”

“Yes, I did.” A wide smile accompanied the announcement. “Those spells are a great learning tool. They’re harmless, and they really get the imagination going.”

“Y’all did whaaaa --” Applejack cut herself off midsentence to reach under her hat for a letter while Rainbow collapsed laughing onto the floor. Applejack continued, hoofing over the missive, “Here.”

Twilight accepted the proffered letter and, with a sideways glance at Rainbow Dash, read it. When she was done, her hoof found her face. “One day . . .Less than a day even,” she muttered.

“Is that my cue?” Spike asked eagerly.

“Yes darling,” Rarity said, sitting on her haunches. “That’s your cue.”


Six of her aurors had followed through the floo, each of them as tense as she was herself. They stood shoulder to shoulder in a defensive ring, wands drawn. It wasn’t everyday they received an alert from Hogwarts that there was a body to dispose of. No matter how unconcerned the nurse had sounded, this was not a routine visit.

“Where is it?” were the first words out of her mouth after she crossed the threshold of the fireplace. “What exactly happened?” With practiced eyes, she took in her surroundings; the school infirmary was currently populated by four people. Two were students, one a smallish boy with glasses partially hidden by his dark, messy hair, and the other an older girl who looked remarkably like that ghost who haunted the first-floor lavatory. The other two people were clearly medical practitioners. One was the expected school nurse. The other was a familiar nurse from St. Mungo’s, an obliviation expert, unless she missed her guess.

“Good evening Madam Bones,” the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, said. “Sorry to bother you, but the situation is nowhere near as dire as it first sounds.”

Amelia fixed her with a glare that plainly said she’d be the judge of that.

“The body is behind the partition there.” The St. Mungo’s nurse nodded her chin in the direction of one of the folding privacy screens.

With long strides, Amelia made her way behind the divider. Lying on an examination table was the expected corpse. It was male, with its outdated clothing soaked with blood, and had its head set in a tray lying on its chest, cleanly severed from the rest of the body. A quick onceover showed that rigor mortis had yet to set in; in fact, the body was still discernably warm.

With a somber look on her face she reemerged from behind the divider and demanded, “How is this not dire?”

“Relax,” Madam Pomfrey said with a mischievous grin, “no one died, at least not recently.”

The expression on Amelia’s face showed not a hint of the amusement that the nurse obviously thought was appropriate.

“Let me explain,” Madam Pomfrey said, unperturbed by the glare the Head of the DMLE was sending her. “Our first-year Gryffindors decided it was a good idea to resurrect Myrtle.”

“They did what now?!?!” Amelia and all six of the aurors turned their gaze to the girl sitting quietly on one of the rooms beds, observing everything going on around her.

“They resurrected Myrtle, did a rather nice job of it too.” Madam Pomfrey gestured to the girl in question. “It goes without saying that their second attempt didn’t go as well as the first.” Her next gesture was toward the screen blocking the body from sight.

“I don’t know how many more earth-shaking developments I can tolerate being crammed into today,” Amelia Bones said, glancing behind the screen once more. “Overhauling the Wizengamot was bad enough; I surely didn’t expect to be redefining life and death as well.”


From his spot on yet another clinic bed, Harry did his best to go unnoticed.

It was a more than a little disconcerting that the school nurse had sent the rest of his classmates away. For some reason, she had insisted he stay behind. Now, the only ones left were Myrtle and himself. There had been declarations of a pending checkup. He could understand one for Myrtle; they had just resurrected her. An exam for her was pretty much a given. He, on the other hand, had never had a checkup in his memory. His relatives had insisted that freaks didn’t deserve to go to the doctor; it was a waste of money.

Why were they bothering now? No one had bothered before. No one had cared before. It was more than a little disconcerting.


Alice stood at the boundary of the estate. As initiator of the rite, she had received first pick of the spoils. It had not been a hard decision to claim the manor and the surrounding lands as the lion’s share of her portion. Though not motivated by greed, she was well aware that the contents of the home would probably net her more than the listed value, a bonus to be sure. However, with her portion of the other estates, it was hardly a deciding factor. The clincher was that she now owned the symbol of power. It would be a constant reminder of her success. Its true worth could not be measured in mere galleons.

She crossed the threshold and, somehow, the wards recognized that the new owner had arrived. Smiling to herself, Alice led her two-auror escort up the walkway toward the main entrance. Malfoy Manor would be receiving a new name.


“Has he been resurrected as well?” Amelia quietly asked of Pomfrey, nodding to the young boy also in the room.

“No.” Madam Pomfrey shook her head to emphasize the negative response. “That’s Harry Potter; the judge has sent an order for him to undergo a physical. I had wanted to do one earlier, but Albus insisted that it wasn’t necessary. Now, I have no choice in the matter.”

“Dumbledore blocked you from doing a physical earlier?” Amelia frowned at the news. “On what grounds?”

“He wouldn’t elaborate,” Pomfrey said, “but as the child’s magical guardian, he didn’t need to.”

Amelia sighed, “I sense yet another earth-shaking event on the horizon. If you don’t mind, I’d like to see that report before you send it to the judge.”

Pomfrey frowned at the implications lurking just below the surface. “I’m pretty sure that whatever you’re thinking goes against conventional wisdom.”

“Didn’t you get the memo?” Amelia asked her. “Conventional wisdom called in sick today. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be absent tomorrow as well.”


Panting heavily, Emily Watson rushed down the hallway, racing the clock. The small second-year Hufflepuff had just minutes until curfew, and she didn’t want to be caught out of bounds. It was only the second day of classes after all; she had no desire to set the new record for points lost in the first week.

As luck would have it, she tripped. The impact was awkward, she managed to land in a knelling position and skidded to a halt. The protective covering of her robes offered scant protection for her knees. The resulting carpet burn left them skinned and bloody.

Hurriedly rolling onto her rear, Emily lifted the hem of her robe to inspect the damage. Tears were starting to form in the corners of her eyes as she probed the broken skin.

Without warning, something leapt out and attached itself to her wounded left knee. It was fast, blue and smelled strongly of menthol. Emily did what any sane twelve-year-old would do in that situation; she screamed bloody murder.





After hitting just about every vowel in the English language, Emily realized two things. First, there was no more pain in her left knee. Second, she could see that the skin had healed.

Emily prodded the blue mass and said, “Here now, don’t forget to get the other knee.” Oddly enough, it complied.

After finishing, the mass of blue took off as quickly as it had arrived. Gingerly, the second-year girl climbed to her feet and tested her newly-healed knees.

“Well, what do you know?” she said. “Mouse is a medical slime.”


He had found a dark corner to call his own. Right then, he was not proud and overbearing. Right then, he was not an arrogant prat, belittling those beneath him. Right then, he was not aloof and untouchable, as he had been taught. Right then, he was not even the heir apparent of the proud and majestic House Malfoy. No, right then, he was a child who had just lost their father, and that consumed his world.

And he was not the only one in the castle who shared that fate.


Upon returning to her office, Professor McGonagall summoned the remaining two heads of house for an emergency meeting. Professor Sprout was the first to arrive, with a haggard-looking Professor Snape arriving soon after.

“Now that we are all here,” Minerva started, after Severus found his seat, “I’ve called this meeting to discuss a potentially disruptive new development.”

“Potentially disruptive?” Professor Snape snorted. “I think it would be fair to say that the status quo is well and truly shattered.”

“Come now, Severus,” Minerva said shaking her head. “It’s going to cause changes, but I hardly think the status quo is going to shift because of it.”

“Not shift?” Severus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The very foundation of Magical Britain has shifted today.”

“It’s not that bad,” Minerva disagreed.

“You would think so,” Severus sneered, “but the lives of many of my house members have been devastatingly altered.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Flitwick broke into the growing argument. “I don’t think you two are talking about the same thing here,” he observed.

Coldly, Severus gritted his teeth and said, “What else could we be talking about besides the recent execution of every former Death Eater on the Wizengamot.”

“What?!” Minerva sat back in her chair in shock, and Flitwick tumbled from his seat as he lost his balance. Pomona let out a gasp of surprise, raising her hand to her mouth.

“You didn’t know?” Severus inquired, watching their responses.

“When did this happen?” Pomona asked, shaking her head.

“Before lunch,” Severus responded. “Didn’t you find it odd that I was pulling students from their classes so early in the term?”

“I was going to ask you about that,” Minerva conceded. “How did you find out?”

“Albus sent a letter.”

“It would have been nice if he had sent me one as well.” Frowning, Minerva decided she was going to have a few choice words with the headmaster when he finally put in an appearance.

“How did it happen?” Flitwick asked, climbing back onto his chair.

“That information wasn’t in the letter,” Severus confessed. “We will have to wait until Albus returns before we have our answers.”

“At least we now know why he hasn’t returned yet,” Pomona surmised.

“Though I am hesitant to ask,” Severus said as he nodded in agreement with Professor Sprout, “what was the matter you were talking about?”

“The Gryffindor first-years resurrected Myrtle Warren,” Flitwick offered from his reclaimed seat.

There was a moment of stunned silence. “They did what, now?!” Pomona exclaimed as Severus groaned and slowly brought his palm to his face.

“We will be having an extra student in third-year Ravenclaw,” Minerva clarified.

Pomona sighed and sank back into her chair. “Before we go any further, Minerva, now would be a grand time to break out the firewhiskey.”


“It’s funny,” Parvati said as she and her classmates sat around the common room table finishing their homework, “I remember going to get obliviated, I even remember getting obliviated, but I can’t recall what it was they were going to obliviate.”

“That’s kinda the whole idea,” Ginny chastised. “But we now know we can resurrect ghosts. Are we trying it on Professor Binns next?”

“I say we practice on someone else first, just to be sure.” Seamus said, “I’m sure Nick is around and would be glad to help.”

The conversation stopped as they turned to watch Dean break out in uncontrollable laughter.

“I’m starting to have my suspicions on what they obliviated,” Hermione said over the laughter.

“Speaking of ghosts,” Lavender said, still watching Dean softly giggle in his chair, “what happens with Myrtle now?”

“What do you mean?” Scootaloo shifted her gaze to her roommate askingly.

Lavender answered, “Who’s going to take care of her? Who’s going to pay her tuition? Where is she going to live when school is out? She has been dead a long time; does she even have any family left?”

“Ah reckon we’ll be hoofing the bill,” Apple Bloom said, unaware of Hermione’s analytical look at her choice of words. “We are responsible for her current predicament, afta all.”

“Does that mean more shopping?” Scootaloo asked, dismayed.

“Of course, it does!” Sweetie Belle said cheerfully. “Human’s don’t walk around naked all day; she’s going to need a new wardrobe.” Sweetie’s comment also received scrutiny from Hermione.

“I don’t think Myrtle considers her change of status as a predicament,” Parvati said. “I’m sure the adults will work something out.”

“I wonder why they kept Harry and Myrtle,” Neville mused. “They both looked all right to me.”

“Harry’s probably super immune to obliviate,” Dean suggested, “and of course they’re going to want to go over Myrtle with a fine-tooth comb.”

“He still has homework to complete,” Hermione griped. “I hope they let him leave soon.”

“Homework isn’t that important,” Ron said with a shrug. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Hermione glared indignantly at Ron for his sacrilege.


Alice sat alone in the sitting room, feeling like a stranger in her new home. The meeting with Narcissa Malfoy had gone better than she had hoped. Someone had gotten news to the woman about what had happened earlier, and all Alice had to deal with was a stoic and yielding woman. Though neither of them had said it, they both knew that with Alice’s claim of conquest, the younger witch practically owned the older. In truth, the word “practically” could be thrown out of the previous sentence. The old laws were much more misogynistic in nature, which perfectly matched the mindset of previous generations. Alice had no idea what she was going to do with Narcissa. She hadn’t really considered what she was going to do with any of her conquests today. She had concentrated on winning first, the implications of success hadn’t been thought out. By right of conquest, she was now responsible for several families.

As she sat in silence, a voice to her left said, “My, my, this is certainly a step up.”

Alice turned her head and saw that the stranger was wearing the same dapper suit as before. “Are you ever going to tell me your name?” She gestured for him to have a seat, surprised by the ease with which he had bypassed the wards. “I would like to know who it is I owe so much to.”

“My dear,” the man replied, smiling as he took the offered seat, “I am surprised you are just now asking. My name is Discord.”

“How completely ominous, yet fitting,” Alice observed

“I would hope so,” Discord said. “My mother put a lot of thought into it.”

Alice smiled at the perceived joke. “Would you care for some tea or anything?”

“Thank you, no. I’ve just come from having tea with another.”

“Are you sure? There is nothing you could not ask of me.” Alice smoothed her dress, suddenly aware that her obsessions had left room for little else in her life. “If you were to ask me to bear your children, I would do so.”

For the first time, Discord seemed surprised. Had she been too blunt with her interest?

“Um, yes . . .I . . .” Discord fought for the right words. “I did come to ask a favor, but um. Oh my, look at the time!”

“Is that all it takes to fluster you?” Alice leaned forward in her chair, glad she had chosen a dress that showed some cleavage. She had here a proven powerful wizard that wasn’t wearing a ring; he was fair game.

“Um, that is . . .” Discord dragged his gaze up to her face before he rushed through his reply. “The information in those scrolls, well they are more than I’d be able to gather by myself on such short notice. The one who gave them to me asked a favor in return, and you’re in the perfect position to help.”

“Oh?” Alice placed her left hand to her breast, ensuring his gaze returned to where it belonged. “Who gave you the help and at what price?”

“Spirit of Justice. Nice lady. You should meet her. She keeps track of things like this.” He rambled, obviously not used to situations turning on him in this manner. “She wants Sirius Black freed; he’s innocent and never received a trial. I really must go now, bye.” Discord stood up and flashed from existence with a snap of his fingers.

What a coward! Alice slumped back in her chair disappointed. After a minute, a smile crept across her face. She had just completed one life goal, and another fell into her lap to replace it. How such a handsome man was so vulnerable to the attention of women she didn’t know, but she was willing to take advantage of it. Yes, he would make a fine prize; all it would take was a little work.

In the meantime, she’d have to see what she could do for Sirius. If he were innocent, she’d do everything in her power to set him free. Alice would have done it on principle alone; owing a favor to the Spirit of Justice in no way made her resolve stronger. The Spirit would have only needed to ask, and she would have done it even before her recent conquests. The only difference was she now had the means to be effective.


She sat on the clinic bed and felt the soft blankets as she ran her fingers over them. She felt the soft blankets. She FELT the soft blankets. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes. It had been a very long time since she had the sense of touch, a long-forgotten memory of a memory.

Her heart beat excitedly in her chest.

And then there was this presence. It penetrated the very room, softly making itself known. It was a wish she had never thought to be answered. She could smell the disinfectant in the room! She had a sense of smell!

Her heart beat excitedly in her chest.

She was feeling something else -- a pain? Was this a feeling of pain? She couldn’t remember. It was starting to engulf her attention, taking priority over all else. What was it? Should she tell the nurse? Without warning, her midsection made a noise, a gurgling noise! Oh, she was hungry. She would be able to eat again, to taste!

Her heart beat excitedly in her chest.

Was it a dream? A cruel, cruel dream? But, ghost don’t dream, they remember. No, this was real! She was alive!


Her HEART BEAT excitedly in her chest. Some may take it for granted, but Myrtle never would again.


Hermione bit her lower lip in worry. What if she were wrong? Heck, what if she were right?

They were in the dorm room again; it looked like it had just received a thorough cleaning. That was not essential since most of their time was spent in one trunk or another. In fact, they were currently filing into Sweetie’s for an evening bath.

Screwing up her courage, Hermione tapped the girl in front on her shoulder. “Scootaloo, could I talk to you alone for a minute?”

“Um, sure,” the purple-haired girl agreed, confused. She had purple hair, naturally purple hair. “You girls go ahead; I’m going to see what Hermione wants.”

Hermione waited impatiently for the rest of the group to descend out of earshot, leaving a frustrated Magah guarding the entrance of the chest. Then, she reached into the shoulder bag she was wearing and retrieved a familiar book.

Taking a deep breath, she confronted her new friend. Yes, she was a friend, and hopefully it would stay that way. “Scootaloo, this book was written neither by humans nor for humans.” There, she said it.

Scootaloo looked at her quizzically, finding nothing profound in that statement, “Yeah?”

Hermione took another deep breath and tried again. “Scootaloo, are you a unicorn?”

“No,” Scootaloo said. Then, as Hermione opened her mouth to protest, Scootaloo explained, “I’m a pegasus pony.”

Surprise stole Hermione’s next words; all she got out was, “What?”

“I’m a pegasus pony,” Scootaloo repeated patiently, as if the answer were obvious.

Hermione stood silently for a few seconds, amazed by both the answer and the ease by which it was obtained. “I see . . . Sweetie Belle is the unicorn pony; that’s why Magah is having fits over her.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said again.

Hermione paused again. “You don’t mind me knowing?”

“No,” Scootaloo said as she shrugged, “should I?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “No. No, I suppose you shouldn’t. We are friends and all,” Hermione conceded.

Scootaloo nodded. “Was that all you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes . . .No . . .” Hermione faltered and Scootaloo tilted her head questioningly. “May I see your true form?”

“Oh!” Scootaloo said sadly, “I can’t right now, but follow me.” With that, she disappeared into the trunk and Hermione followed. Magah tried to follow again, but she was just too big.

Soon they were with the rest of the girls, who were just getting into the tub.

“Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo said to the redhead wearing nothing but a copper band on one finger, “Hermione wants to see you transform.”

“Waa?” Apple Bloom looked up to gaze at Hermione. “Now?”

Ginny snapped her head to look at Hermione as well; how had she found out?

"Yeah." Scootaloo nodded. "Now."

“Okay,” Apple Bloom agreed, and her human form melted away. In its place was a little yellow pony with a mane and tail as bright red as Apple Bloom’s hair had been.

Scootaloo counted down on her fingers. 3 . . .2 . . .1 . . .

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati shrieked, while Hermione would swear she did not participate. Nor was the fact that she was still dressed the only reason she didn’t join the other two in the rushing across the tub as they blocked off the younger Ginny to scoop up and hug Apple Bloom

“I forgot they did that,” Sweetie Belle said as she scooted out of the way.

“I didn’t.” Scootaloo smirked evilly.

Before anything else was said, there was a rush of footfalls followed by Fay and the sixth-year prefect bursting into the room.

“What’s wrong?!” Fay shouted, her nerves past the fraying point. “Is everyone all right?”

“A little help, please,” Apple Bloom said from where she was being squished between Parvati and Lavender.

Fay stared at the little yellow pony being smothered by love. “On top of everything else, you’re an animagus?”

“Help?” Apple Bloom vainly repeated.

“Girls,” the sixth-year prefect admonished, “let her breathe.”

Lavender and Parvati returned pouting silent pleas.

“Down . . . now.” The sixth-year prefect pointed to the tub.

Sighing dejectedly, the two girls lowered their prize back into the tub. As soon as her hooves touched the bottom, Apple Bloom scooted back and transformed into her human form. “Tha’s scary,” she informed everyone.

“Are we all done with the surprises for the night?” Fay flung her arms into the air. “If not, I hear there are acromantulas in the forest that need slaying.”

“Where in the forest?” Lavender piped up, and Sweetie Belle asked, “Are they good to eat?”

“Forget I said that,” Fay said, placing her palm over her face. “Seriously, just forget I ever said that. If I knew obliviate, I’d use it on you right now.”

“We’ve already done that once tonight,” Scootaloo reminded her.

“I know,” Fay snapped. “I was tempted to go myself.”

“Would you care to join us in a nice hot and relaxing bath?” Sweetie Belle offered as way of appeasement.

“No, no.” Fay shook her head and gestured for the other prefect to follow her out of the bathing area. “I’ve just had one shock too many tonight.”

After watching the two older girls leave, Apple Bloom turned to Hermione and asked, “What’s an acromantula?”


Grumpily, Judge Brown answered her front door. Her day had been too hectic to be having people calling at this late an hour. Her day tomorrow was probably going to be worse. Opening the door, she beheld one of the people she least wanted to see at that moment. A home visit from the head of the DMLE was not a common occurrence and didn’t bode well for a peaceful evening.

“Yes?” Judge Brown asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Evening, your honor,” Amelia Bones said grimly, “I’m sorry to bother you at home at such an hour, but I have two urgent matters to discuss with you.”


“The first item is unprecedented, and frankly I don’t even know where to start with the ramifications and implications.” Amelia said.

“Go on.” Judge Brown motioned for her to continue.

“The first year Gryffindors have successfully resurrected the ghost of a former student,” Amelia said with no humor,

“They did what, now?” Judge Brown asked in a slow cadence.

Amelia nodded her head in understanding. “That was my reaction as well. Myrtle Warren’s status is going to be a headache, one way or another.”

“The ghost in the bathroom?”

“That’s her,” Amelia agreed.

“She’s alive now?” Judge Brown’s mind was whirling through the legal implications for this event.

“Yes, and their second attempt did not go as well as the first,” Amelia continued.

Judge Brown fixed her gaze on the other woman waiting for the shoe to drop.

“We are still not sure how or if we shall dispose of the body,” Amelia said tiredly.

“Ah,” Judge Brown acknowledged.

“So, I just happened to be in the infirmary when they did the examination of Mr. Potter.” Amelia raised a folder she was carrying in her left hand.

The judge raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“You’re not going to be happy,” Amelia finished.

Judge Brown studied the other woman a second. “Come on in, I’ll put some tea on.”


There were blackboards everywhere in the room. Each and every one of them was covered in writing. The same sentence was repeated, over and over again. At one blackboard, a small dragon was busy wiping it clean for another round. The words, “I shall not send dangerous spells to fillies without first consulting my friends, even when said spells are supposed to be harmless.” dominated the room.

“Am I finished yet?”

“We’ll let you know when you are done, darling.”

“Isn’t this kind of juvenile?”

“If’n y’all be wanting juvenile, we could just break out the paddle.”

“No, no, I’m good. Just let me get a new piece of chalk, this one is done for. And what’s with you girls wanting to hit lately?”

In the corner, a cyan mare was still laughing her flank off.

Author's Note:

If you might be wondering why this chapter took so long, I blame tvtropes.org. On the bright side I now know what fridge horror means. On the not so bright, I've lost many hours of my life without realizing it. Seriously, that site needs to post warnings... "Do not read unless you have several hours of free time." or something like that.

When writing Myrtle's scene I had this stuck in my head.

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