• Published 23rd Apr 2017
  • 15,302 Views, 7,164 Comments

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 25: Paperwork

The melodic chime of the doorbell reminded Emma Granger how much she hated Wednesdays. All the difficult cases seemed to crop up on that day, and it would not surprise her at all if it were some poor sod in need of an emergency root canal waiting at the door. The first rays of dawn underscored the fact that the day was much too young for civil visitations. Whoever was calling had to be either an enormous prat or the bearer of horrendous news.

Blearily, she put a bloodshot eye to the peephole. It took a moment to register that the caller was not in fancy dress. Suddenly fully alert, she unbolted the door and threw it open.

“Professor McGonagall!” Emma drew in a sharp, worried breath. “Is Hermione all right?”

The stress of the past few days had clearly taken its toll on the Gryffindor Head of House; the witch looked like something from a horror movie as she answered, "Hermione is doing well." She paused to rub her eyes. "I apologize for the ghastly hour, but I was just going over my backlog of messages. Your letter deserved a speedy and personal reply, and, unfortunately, this was the only opening in my schedule for the next two weeks when I had any chance of catching you while you were at home and awake."

“I see.” Emma moved to the side to invite the older woman in. “In that case I appreciate you taking the time to reply so promptly. I was just about to have my first cup of coffee for the day, before waking Dan. Won’t you join me?”

“I’m afraid I simply do not have the time.” Minerva gratefully entered the tidy home. “I am here to assure you that Hogwarts does not teach necromancy on any level. Despite how routine Madam Pomfrey’s notice may have made them seem, resurrections are not a common occurrence in the magical world. In fact, the children made the front page of last night’s news as a result of their efforts.”

“Hermione made the news?” The revelation brought Emma beyond full wakefulness. “My daughter is in the news?”

“The names of the children involved have not been officially released.” Minerva shook her head. “However, the reporter had assumed that both Harry Potter and Sweetie Belle had something to do with the incident. It just so happens that their assumption is correct.”

“So,” Emma said hopefully, “no necromancy then?”

“No necromancy,” Minerva agreed.

“Then, I don’t have to worry about my daughter raising a vampire at school?”

Minerva dismissed the idea. “The wards would have a very nasty effect on any attempts to create a vampire.”

Emma gave the witch a scrutinizing gaze trying to decide whether she was joking. “Vampires are real?”

“Yes,” Minerva answered, “why wouldn’t they be?”

“Next you’ll be telling me werewolves are real, too.”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Minerva reassured her.

Emma sighed. “Then you’ll be telling me dragons were real, too.”

“I seem to recall that your daughter’s wand's core is made of Ironbelly heartstring,” Minerva said.


“The Ukrainian Ironbelly is a species of dragon,” Minerva informed Emma.

“Is?” Emma knitted her brows in surprise. “As in present tense?”


Emma pause and thought. “Fairies?”

“There hasn’t be a confirmed sighting in a couple centuries.” Minerva waved a dismissive hand. “Though, there are some families that most likely still have fairy blood.”




“Boggarts,” Minerva confirmed. “Annoying pests.”

“Honest politician?”

“Now you’re just being flippant,” Minerva scolded, “asking me about something you know can’t possibly exist.”

“It was worth the try,” Emma justified.

“Shall we return to the subject at hand?” Minerva firmly squashed a giggle. “The children have used a previously unknown spell in an astonishing manner. Even though there are other possibilities on how they managed to obtain it, one avenue that must be investigated lies in your family.”

“How so?” Emma asked

“Yours would not be the first magical family to be descended from an estranged squib,” Minerva said. “There have been tomes of family magic unobtrusively passed down through the generations, in such a manner, before. I say this because the children were less than forthcoming on the origin of the spell, and they were looking to Hermione to lead and explain it.”

“You think she brought the spell to school with her?”

“It is feasible. I’m also here to ask you if you have any strange family heirlooms that I might inspect.” Minerva said, “Of course, I would take nothing and read none of what may be private family tomes, but an assessment must be made.”

“Strange family heirlooms?” Emma said. Massaging her temples, she continued. “Like, I don’t know, maybe, an old, shabby chest that no one can open and should have probably have been thrown out ages ago instead of taking up space in the attic?”

“That does sound promising,” Minerva agreed.

In the hour when Celestia took over for her sister, only a dedicated few ponies were in the marketplace square, like farm ponies. The big red one who was pulling his family’s market cart was earlier than normal. It was his turn to ply his family's wares.

Another stallion was already setting up the adjacent stall when the gentle giant pulled up. Pausing his unloading of asparagus, Tender Shoot greeted the newcomer. “Morning, Big Mac. I see you’re getting an early start as well.”

“Morning,” Big Mac replied as he unhitched himself from the wagon.

Not expecting more in the way of conversation, Tender Shoot returned to unloading his wares.

Before long, a large owl silently swooped down and landed on the apple cart.

Recognizing the bird, Big Mac said, “Morning.”


“Did you make the delivery?” Big Mac asked.

The owl bobbed its head nonchalantly. “Hooo.”

Big Mac trotted up to the bird and reached his whole head into a pouch strapped to the owl’s chest. Seconds later, he pulled it out, holding a large bag of bits. “Thank you kindly,” he said around the bag.


Tender Shoot looked over and asked, “You have an owl that brings you bits?”

Big Mac nodded his head as he noticed a rune etched on the owl’s pouch was glowing slightly. Sighing, the large stallion reached out with a hoof, touched the pouch, and said, “Ex dimittere.”


Ears turned forward as far as they would go and eyes wide open, Tender Shoot said, “You have an owl that brings you bits and pretty young mares? Where do I get one for myself?”

In the stark light of the naked bulb, the two women curiously looked down at the old, battered trunk in the musty, dark attic.

“That’s a descendant’s blood rune,” Minerva stated.

Emma looked at her questioningly.

“It means only a descendant of the chest’s owner can open it, and that descendant must be able to channel magic.”

“So? Jackpot?” Emma asked.

“One way or another, yes,” Minerva acknowledged. Then, after waving her wand over the object, she voiced her findings. “It has minor compulsions on it. ‘Don’t get rid of me.’ ‘Don’t think about me.’ ‘Don’t try and force me open.’ That sort of thing.”

“Hermione got a book on necromancy out of it?”

“That is looking more and more probable every second,” Minerva allowed.

“It’s going in the rubbish,” Emma said grimly.

“We don’t know for certain that this is the source.” Minerva shook her head. “This is part of your heritage and should not be discarded so casually. I recommend that you have Hermione open it for you with a trained auror present, both to protect against dark magic and to analyze the contents for anything dangerous, magical or otherwise.”

“Yeah, but necromancy,” Emma firmly reiterated.

“All the more reason to dispose of it properly,” Minerva insisted. “Moody owes me a favor; I’m sure I can convince him to escort Hermione home for a short visit. Let’s say this Sunday?”

“The sooner the better,” Emma said, still eyeing the chest.

“I’m sooo sorry!” The plum mare with a mauve tail and mane wailed, “I know the letter said to just open the first flap for our apples, but I just couldn’t resist. I had to see if the other flaps were as big as the first!”

“Eeeeyup.” Big Mac said in a measured tone.

“I suppose that’s a security feature, stops nosey ponies like me.”


“I think I’m in Ponyville,” the mare continued. “Did that owl bring me all the way to Ponyville?”


“And you're Big Mac; you bring my family apples all the time. Now you got the owl to do the job?”


“And now that you’ve foalnapped me you’re going to drag me off somewhere and have your way with me?”

“Eeee . . . nnnnope?” Big Mac said.

“Darn.” The disappointed mare stomped her forehoof on the ground. “I thought I was on a roll there."

Big Mac just stared at the mare in shock.

“Are you sure you don’t want to rethink your last answer?” she asked as she sidled up beside him.

The wizard approached the goblin bank anxiously. He had been putting off this visit for a couple days now. The insanity that had been the Wizengamot session had been his excuse. However, he could put this off no longer. He had to get answers.

He waited impatiently in line for those who had arrived before him to be serviced. Soon he was standing before a teller.

“How may I help you today?” the goblin asked gruffly.

“I’ve received some strange correspondences from the bank recently,” the wizard said, handing over a letter. “I’m not exactly sure what’s happening.”

The goblin read the letter and said, “Ah yes, Tricksno has been looking forward to talking to you.” Summoning a runner, the teller continued, “Please follow Railrun here, Mr. Weasley.”

The pink filly was in a sour mood. She had heard some troubling news, very troubling news that just wasn’t fair, news that had no right to be true. How could that blank flank have something she didn’t? How could that blank flank have what she wanted but notably lacked? It just wasn’t fair. No, having to eat brussels sprouts for supper wasn’t fair; this new predicament was inequity on a whole new level. She didn’t even have a word for just how wrong it was.

Unwilling to sulk in silence any longer, she lashed out at the brown stallion sitting at the head of the breakfast table, reading the newspaper. “Daddy! It isn’t fair! It just isn’t fair!”

“What’s not fair?” the stallion asked, ruffling his newspaper slightly.

“She’s got a marriage contract!” the filly wailed. “Sweetie Belle has a valid marriage contract!”

“I know, dear. I was here when our butler relayed the news. He overheard Princess Celestia talking about it with the Element Bearers on the way to her chariot.”

“It’s not fair!” the filly repeated loudly.

“It is a curious situation.” The stallion put down his paper to pay more attention to his daughter.

“I want one too!” The filly leaned back in her chair, grouchily crossing her forelegs with a frown.

Minerva just had a few more items to clear up before heading to breakfast. One was an unusual request, delivered by phoenix, no less. Well, it was less a request and more a question on proper spells to be introduced to first years. It was a pity she hadn’t read this letter before talking to Mrs. Granger; it would have changed the tone of the entire exchange.

She was just signing her name to the reply when there was a knock on her door. With a wave of her wand she admitted the visitor. “Good morning, Miss Dunbar,” she greeted.

“Good morning, Professor McGonagall,” the prefect returned stopping just inside the office door. “I just have a quick item that’s been bothering me, one of those ‘I wish I had handled it differently’ things. It’s probably nothing, but the other night the subject of acromantulas being in the forbidden forest came up with the first-year girls, and they seemed a little too interested for comfort. It’s probably nothing, but I can’t shake the feeling that I should bring it to you.”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall said. “Thank you for bring this to my attention.”

“I’m sorry to bother you for something so petty,” Fay said, heading back out the door. “I’ll stop pestering you now.”

“You’re not pestering me,” Professor McGonagall reassured her even as the door started to close.

Frowning to herself, Minerva looked down at the letter she had been writing. This was not the first time that Fay Dunbar had said something that made her want to rethink her opinion of divination. Shaking her head to dismiss the thought, Minerva waved her wand over the letter, vanishing the ink. With a new perspective, she started over.

For once, the Gryffindor table wasn’t the main focus at breakfast; that honor had been relinquished to the Ravenclaws. Admittedly, it takes a lot to trump a phoenix and a unicorn. Normally, a third-year girl would not be able to accomplish this feat. However, a third-year girl who had previously been a ghost managed to be the most interesting phenomenon in the great hall that morning.

“You need to slow down,” one of the Ravenclaw prefects said to her. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I haven’t been sick in ages,” Myrtle replied. “I haven’t had oatmeal in longer than you’ve been alive. And the omelettes! Can’t you just taste that hint of pepper? And the bacon, I swear everything’s better with bacon.”

“That’s it,” the prefect said. “I’m cutting you off for your own good. Who do you think you are? Apple Bloom or Ron Weasley?”

“But . . . going to the loo afterwards is so much fun.”

“Too much information!” the prefect said. “Just too much information!”

“I can’t believe she wants to see us so early.” Rainbow Dash yawned loudly as she flapped alongside her friend.

“Everything before noon is early for y’all,” Applejack said, smiling at her friend’s irritation.

“The sun is barely up,” Rainbow complained. “There’re still a few good hours of sleep to be had.”

“Ah’m sure you’ll schedule a nap to make up what y’all lost.”

“You’d better beli . . .” Rainbow started, but was interrupted by a large red blur galloping down the road.

“Come back here and fulfill your obligations as a foalnapper!” a plum colored mare in hot pursuit demanded.

“Nnnnope! Nope! Nope! Nope!”

“Am I still dreaming?” Rainbow asked, staring after the spectacle.

“Nnnope,” Applejack said with her eyes half lidded.

“Errr,” Rainbow Dash asked hesitantly, “aren’t you going to help him?”

“He’s a big stallion,” Applejack answered.

“Yeah, but,” Rainbow said, “that’s probably the cause of his current problems in the first place.”

Applejack shot Rainbow Dash a startled look.

“What? Size matters.” Rainbow guiltily clapped her front hooves together. “You can’t possibly think I hadn’t noticed.”

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Arthur Weasley said to the goblin sitting behind the desk. Already the encounter was going unlike anything he had expected. Upon taking his seat, a goblin had brought in a tray with a tea set and morning pastries. The polite goblin then asked if he’d fancied some tea. Arthur had never heard of goblins offering tea before, not even to their wealthiest clients. For that matter, he’d never heard the words "polite" and "goblin" used in the same sentence before, at least not in any sentence that didn’t have a qualifier like "not" or "absolutely not" or even "are you kidding me".

“This meeting is overdue,” Tricksno, the goblin behind the desk stated. “But first, let me address your confusion over the tea. As you may know, we have regular interaction with our muggle counterparts in the banking profession, squibs and muggles with knowledge of the statute. Unlike wizards, they treat us as equals and regularly offer us tea and such during the course of business. The young ladies who opened your newest vaults showed much the same respect. That, coupled with your previous good will toward non-wizard individuals, both politically and in your private actions, has led us to hesitantly extend the same courtesy.”

Arthur blinked in shock before saying, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you consider me worth the effort. I hope this can be the beginning of a new era of understanding between our two people.”

“Don’t overplay it,” Tricksno said. “You’re starting to sound like a politician.”

“Sorry,” Arthur said and took a sip of tea to demonstrate his appreciation.

“To the business at hand.” The goblin picked up a parchment to read. “Even though your wards indicated an agreement to use expense accounts with year limits, they are still using their main vault keys to make purchases. Just this morning two major transactions have been filed in such a manner, one for the trunk maker they seem to favor and another for Quality Quidditch Supplies. There is also a negligible transaction for two one-year subscriptions to the "Daily Prophet". While not a significant incursion on your finances, they do defeat the purpose of expense accounts.” Tricksno turned the parchment to show Arthur.

Arthur took a long sip from the tea as he read.

“Since this is likely an oversight, I have taken the liberty of transferring the expenses from the appropriate account, and to provide this box of keys linked to the discretionary vaults of all family members.” Tricksno continued opening a box that had been sitting on his desk. “As you can see,” he said, starting to read the name tags attached to the individual keys, “one for you, one for your wife, one for each child -- Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Percy Weasley, Charles Weasley, Apple Bloom, Scoot Aloo, Sweetie Belle -- and finally one for household expenses. William Weasley has already claimed his key.”

“And the girls authorized this?” Arthur asked.

“Right after they signed their forms acknowledging the Weasley clan they agreed to a 10,000 galleon a year allowance for all members,” Tricksno informed him. “Now that we have gotten that little problem out of the way, we here at Gringotts would be interested in purchasing the remaining gems you have stored in your vault.” He leaned forward and offered a goblin’s equivalence of a grin. “We are willing to offer a most favorable price.” He handed Arthur another piece of parchment.

Wide eyed, Arthur choked on the rest of his tea.

Entering the library, Rainbow Dash noticed a familiar tan mare with a foal’s bottle and rattle cutie mark talking to Rarity, Spike, Twilight, and, for some reason, Pinkie Pie.

“Is everything okay?” the cyan mare asked, worry coloring her voice. “Nothing’s going spectacularly wrong?”

“Not that I know of,” Rarity said. “All I know is the mayor asked us to meet to discuss some paperwork the girls submitted.”

“That’s all?” Applejack asked. “Here Ah was afraid that Twilight had gotten a reply back from the school and it turns out the spiders they war talking about turned out to be some giant monster spiders hiding out in some spot that fillies are not supposed to go.”

“Now you’re just being silly.” Pinkie Pie chuckled at the farm mare.

The tan mare addressed Rainbow Dash. “You needn’t worry that I’m here. Your application is well on its way; you have impeccable references.”

“Oh?” Rarity asked, looking at Rainbow Dash. “What application and whom did you use for references?”

“Well, I used you, and Twilight, and Fluttershy and Applejack, of course,” Rainbow Dash admitted, “but I suspect it’ll be a while before I hear anything back.”

The tan mare said, “Princess Celestia took it upon herself to add herself to your references.”

“That’ll do it,” Applejack said as Mayor Mare entered the library. “Whatever your application is for is as good as granted.”

“Good morning,” Mayor Mare said drawing everypony’s attention. “I know it’s early but, I think this is something I should bring to your immediate attentions.”

“That thar is not what ah want to be hearing firs' thing in the morning,” Applejack said warily.

“The Crusaders have done something.” The mayor searched for the right words. “Something extremely surprising.”

“At this point, I’m not sure that there is anything those three could do anymore that would be surprising,” Twilight said shaking her head. “They’ve already redefined what 'surprising' is.”

The mayor smirked as she hoofed a scroll over to Twilight.

Sighing at being singled out, Twilight accepted the scroll and unfurled it to read. As her eyes traversed the paper, they grew wider, and her ears pivoted forward. Twilight started hyperventilating, and there may or may not have been a little foam coming from her mouth. Desperately, she attempted to regain control of her breathing, but her attempt at a saving throw resulted in critical failure.


Everypony in the room stared as the scroll fluttered to the ground.

“Well,” Spike quipped, “obviously she stands corrected.”

“Silly Spike,” Pinkie Pie said with a flip of her mane, “that’s obviously not standing. That’s not even remotely close to standing.”

“Aaa, umm,” Spike said, bringing his hand to cover his face, “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“No,” Rainbow said, “you galloped into it full tilt.”

“Ah’m going to have to sit down for this one ain’t Ah,” Applejack said sitting on her haunches. “Ah’ve been having to do that a lot lately.”

Frowning, Rarity levitated the scroll so she could read it. A little while later, she sat wide eyed as she levitated the scroll over to Applejack without a word.

“Hoo boy,” Applejack said, sticking her muzzle in the scroll to read. A little while later, she threw a hoof in the air and exclaimed, “Way to go Apple Bloom! That’s mah girl!”

“So?” the tan mare said, accepting the scroll next. “It’s good news then?” A little while later she wobbled and fell to her knees. Just like Twilight, she started to hyperventilate.

“Do you think she’s going to . . .” Spike asked.


“She did,” Rainbow answered.

“Hey!” Pinkie Pie said, scandalized. “Isn’t that normally Rarity’s line?”

“She’s still in shock,” Rainbow said pointing to the unmoving white mare. “Somepony had to pick up the slack.”

“I suppose you have a good excuse,” Pinkie Pie huffed.

“Whelp,” Rainbow said reaching for the scroll, “I guess it’s my turn.” A little while later, she looked up from the scroll and blinked; then she returned her muzzle, rereading to make certain she had read right the first time. “Do you suppose they got their conpony cutie marks for this?” she asked.

Pinkie Pie snatched the scroll, impatient for her turn. A little while later she said, “How could they do this? Even Princess Celestia couldn’t do this and she’s . . . she’s . . . she’s Princess Celestia!”

“Ooooo.” Twilight groaned lifting her head. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Applejack answered.

“What? Why?” Twilight knitted her brows trying to remember. “I thought I read . . .”

“You did,” Rarity said absently, still staring forward.

“Yeah!” Pinkie Pie hoped up and down excitedly, “Rarity’s almost recovered.”

Mayor Mare said, "My job here is done. Good day, gentlemares." With that, she left with a broad smile on her face. This was definitely worth the lost night of sleep.

“But . . . but!” Twilight’s voice raised an octave. “How!”

“I don’t know,” Rainbow said, “but when the Crusaders explain this one, I’m taking detailed notes.”

The young auror was bored already as he watched the crowd. They had just set up the goblet in the Ministry's antechamber to receive nominations, and a line had formed even before they started allowing submissions. Witches and wizards were patiently waiting for their turn to toss a piece of paper into the vessel. Anyone could submit any name they desired. The magic of the goblet was binding whether the winner wanted the position or not. It was designed to select the best applicant based on the parameters supplied.

Completely disinterested, the auror watched a wizard in a dapper brown business suit toss an orange piece of paper into the goblet.

The Wizengamot had voted on the traits needed to be chosen. Having to be pureblood had been voted down handily. They had ended up demanding intelligence, loyalty to the wizarding public above loyalty to one’s pocketbook, intelligence, a desire to see improvements happen, intelligence, being unintimidated by wizards in power, and intelligence. After a heated debate, they also threw in non-evil alignment . . . and intelligence. Hopefully, the new minister would be better than the last. Though in retrospect, that, by itself, set the bar rather low.

With a little urging, they managed to wake the tan mare and help her to her hooves. “That’s the most unique herd agreement I have ever read,” she said once she was fully coherent. “Is it even legal?”

Still shaky on her own hooves, Twilight answered, “Technically no. Until they have a ratio of at least two mares for every stallion it’s not completely binding. They have until four years after their majority to meet that requirement, though. A ratio of three to one would be considered better.”

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash made a dismissive wave of her hoof. “We all know how that conversation is going to go.” Her voice took a higher pitch as she continued. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice that your clothing indicates you have a lot of bits. You see, we’re looking for a few mares to round out our herd and you look like a perfect candidate. So, if you don’t mind following me to the town hall we can get you added right away. No? did I mention that we already have five stallions? Okay! Okay, don’t rush me, the town hall isn’t going to close for hours; we have plenty of time to get you added.”

“She has a point,” Applejack admitted.

Pinkie Pie counted on her hooves. Under her breath, she muttered, "Just three more." “I wonder if they’ll be accepting older mares into their herd,” Pinkie Pie mused as she looked up.

Everypony in the room turned to stare at her.

“What?” she asked. “You were all thinking it.”

They continued to stare.

“Don’t try telling me you weren’t,” Pinkie Pie said.

Nopony said anything. The guilty looks were purely imagined.

“Look!” Rainbow Dash said desperately. “You’ve got mail!”

“Rainbow, you can’t see through a wooden door any better than I can,” Twilight admonished.

“Open the door,” Rainbow insisted.

Twilight sighed and complied; surprisingly an owl flew in, offered Twilight a letter and immediately left without any fuss.

“Thank you!” Twilight yelled after the speeding owl. Then turning to Rainbow Dash, she asked, “You saw an owl through a closed door?”

“Actually,” Rainbow corrected, “I heard him through it.”

“You heard an owl flying through a closed door?” Rarity asked.

“I had motivation,” Rainbow insisted.

This time everypony stared at her.

“Okay, okay,” Rainbow confessed, “he hooted for attention. You guys were just too lost in your thoughts to notice.”

Rolling her eyes Twilight opened the letter.

“The first pony to make mention that thar is no way this here letter could be more surprising than what we’ve already witnessed today, gets bucked,” Applejack warned.

Everypony chuckled nervously at the little joke.

“Umm,” Twilight said and put the letter back in its envelope, “okay.”

Rarity sighed and asked, “What does it say, darling?”

“Um,” Twilight repeated.

“Y’all see me,” Applejack said. “Ah’m sitting my flank down; now spill it.”

“Um,” Twilight said.

“You are only making it worse,” Rarity said following Applejack's lead and sitting on her haunches.

Twilight sighed. “They want the spider killing spell for giant killer monster spiders inside a forbidden forest,” she blurted.

There was a pause. Then, Pinkie Pie smiled and exclaimed, “Ha ha! You had me for a minute there. That was a good one, taking what Applejack said earlier and turning it into a joke. You almost had me. Good prank.”

Twilight stared at Pinkie Pie without a smile on her face.

“Wait,” Pinkie Pie said, her own smile sliding from her face. “You’re not joking? Are you?”

Twilight slowly shook her head.

Turning to Applejack, Pinkie Pie said, “That’s it! You are no longer allowed to make predictions.”

Author's Note:

Well, the CMC get a small vacation from this chapter. I just wanted to tie up a few loose ends.

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