• 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 33: Basic Pet Care

The alluring scent of fertile farmland forced its way past the activated charcoal filter of the dowdy hatchback. Somehow, when a drive through the countryside was mentioned, Myrtle had assumed there would be a road. There wasn't even so much as a dirt path leading to the house in the distance; a moat of lush green meadow buffered it from vehicle traffic.

The aggressive tread of all-terrain tires clawed swaths of turf, leaving behind muddy, brown tracks as Myrtle maneuvered her car around boulders barely visible in the tall grass. The car wove drunkenly as they approached what Myrtle was reluctant to describe as a house. Had she not known of the existence of magic, she would have marveled at the fantastic feat of engineering that would otherwise have been required to keep the thing standing. The architectural style could be described as incoherent. The construction would charitably be described as haphazard. It looked like a bunch of children had gotten together and decided to build a clubhouse without regard to building materials, stress limits, cosmetic appeal, or, for that matter, gravity. The dwelling would have given any self-respecting architect prolonged nightmares.

After the deceptively treacherous terrain had forced her into maneuvers that would give a stunt driver a heart attack, Myrtle was seriously considering trying one of the other locations that Professor Flitwick had suggested. After recovering from a particularly vicious skid, she saw a couple of redheads, no doubt husband and wife, exiting the dwelling and looking in her direction. Sighing, she traversed the remaining distance and pulled up beside the pair. The wife, a large woman looked on with suspicion, frowning until she confirmed that Myrtle and Amy were the only occupants of the car. Her expression changed to a welcoming smile. At the same time, the husband ogled the car with a covetous expression.

Killing the engine, Myrtle unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door. “Good morning,” she said brightly, exiting her vehicle.

“Good morning,” the woman and the man returned together as they watched Amy exit the car, dragging her broom from the back seat.

“Hello, my name is Myrtle Smith. I hope we aren’t intruding,” Myrtle said, feeling uncomfortable, “but Professor Flitwick, from Hogwarts, suggested that we see about meeting local magical families and inquiring about allowing my daughter to fly within wards.”

“Oh!” the woman said, standing a little straighter as the man started to circle Myrtle’s car like a lion around wounded prey. “Hello, my name is Molly Weasley and this is my husband, Arthur.” The man stopped and waved at the mention of his name before going back to devouring the car with his eyes. “Welcome to the Burrow.”

The Gryffindor common room was abuzz with activity when the first-year herd came down the stairs from the boy’s dorm. Several other groups were getting ready to head to breakfast as well. Ron breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he realized he wasn't the last one up.

Rather than offer a greeting, the red-faced Percy pointed at Magah and demanded, “Why isn’t she wearing any knickers?”

"For shame, Percy!" said George.

"The first thing you notice about a woman," continued Fred.

"Is her knickers?!" the two ended in unison.

“Leave off it, Percy,” Ginny said. “We had enough trouble getting her to wear the robe.”

“Jagoooo,” Magah agreed, coming over to examine Percy’s outstretched hand.

“That’s your pet unicorn?!” a sixth-year girl gasped, scrutinizing the woman wearing robes sized for a petite first-year.

“She’s not a pet!” Sweetie insisted.

“She’s not wearing knickers.” Percy tried again as his face became redder than his hair.

Ron rolled his eyes. "My brother, Tom, the letch."

Magah considered the finger pointed in her direction and decided to nibble on it softly.

“That outfit might be worse than letting her run around naked,” Katie Bell noted, joining the discussion.

“Aaaaa aaa aaa.” Percy acknowledged as Magah decided she liked the salty sweat he was producing and started to lick his palm.

“We should probably do something before the boys have a meltdown,” the sixth-year girl said, and Apple Bloom noticed the rest of the upper year boys in the room were staring at Percy jealously.

“No, no,” one of the aforementioned boys said. “Just leave her be. We’re good.”

Angelina Johnson sent a stinging hex in his direction.

“This is wrong on so many levels,” the sixth-year girl said, taking out her wand to do some transfiguration.

“Oooooooo,” Percy agreed as Magah started to work on another finger.

“Good morning.”


Discord watched Amelia Bones bring her breathing back under control. “I seem to be getting a lot of that this morning,” he noted.

“That never happened,” Amelia told him firmly after a few seconds.

“Right.” He nodded. “You never engaged in vocal lessons this morning.”

“Exactly.” Amelia glared at him grimly for a few seconds. “So, Mr. Discord, what brings you to my home on this occasion?”

“I have a few official letters, and you are the most prominent member of your government currently available.”

“Available?” Amelia narrowed her eyes at the man. Instead of his dapper brown business suit, he now sported a sapphire blue wizard's robe. “In case you missed it, I was having a bit of a lay in.”

Discord looked around the tastefully decorated bedroom and admitted, “Yes, I hadn’t realized that until after I popped in. Nice comforter, by the way, I never would have pegged you for one to choose pink.”

“What’s wrong with pink?”

“Nothing.” Discord permitted. “It’s that I pictured you as more of an autumn.” He tapped his chin with a finger as he eyed her critically.

Amelia growled deep in her throat.

“You know what?” he said. “I’ll take ten.” With a snap of his fingers, he was gone in a flash of light.

The Great Hall was about a quarter full. On the weekends, most of the students preferred to start their day with a few extra hours of sleep. The lucky minority who had chosen to maintain a scholar's schedule were engaging in a heretofore unknown pastime. The entrance of the Gryffindor first-year herd brought a spectacle that drew everyone's attention. There may have been just a little bit of drooling involved. To be perfectly honest, there was a considerable about of drooling involved, and not all of it from the male members of the student body.

“Geeeh?” Magah announced upon finding herself the center of attention once again.

“No need to stare,” the sixth-year Gryffindor girl called out. “She’s just a unicorn in a transfigured dress.”

The assembled students crowded even closer and continued to stare, and drool.

The sixth-year girl said, with a blush, “Yeah, I knew it was a stupid thing to say as soon as it left my mouth.”

Meanwhile, Magah, clad in a golden sundress, hurried over to the Gryffindor table. The waiting feed bag of oats was soon in her hands.

“Taaaa!” she happily chirped as she tried to bury her head in the container, somehow managing a mouthful of her prize. What began with eager munching turned into slow, thoughtful chews as a look of ultimate betrayal crossed her features. “Bleaaaah!” she spat, removing the offending mess from her mouth

“If’n y’all think that was bad,” Apple Bloom muttered, taking her seat, “jus' wait 'til you try your first flower in human form.”

The melodic chime of an expired kitchen timer filled the room. “I’m back!” Discord announced.


“Wow! What amazing b . . . shower! Yes, what an amazing shower you have here. I just love the view. . . errrr decor. You really outdid yourself. You do believe I meant to say 'shower', right?”

Amelia’s fist connected.

“You punched me?” Discord gasped. “I thought the proper response was to scream and deliver a good slap.”

Amelia’s fist connected again.

“Right, I’ll just be going now.” Discord agreed and vanished with a snap of the fingers and a flash of light.

Harry watched as Sweetie and Magah sat next to each other with a platter coated with bacon grease between them. “Well, it’s official, then,” he quipped. “Unicorns are just carnivores waiting to happen.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat,” Dean agreed with a nod of his head.

“What?” Neville asked as Hermione groaned and placed her face in her hands.

“Boat.” Dean emphasized, “Platters are sometimes called boats and . . . You know what, never mind.”

“Platters are called boats?” Ginny challenged.

“He’s reaching,” Hermione said, face still hidden. “Reaching rather far, I might add.”

“You’ve been to Diagon Alley and the goblins just gave you money?” Professor McGonagall asked for the second time. “And you didn’t sign a contract or do a heritage test?”

“Yes.” Abagail nodded her head happily, glad that she was being believed. “That’s exactly right.”

Professor McGonagall leaned back on the couch and said, “Please excuse me; I’ve had a bit of a surreal couple of weeks, and this news is just the icing on the cake.”

“You’ve had a surreal couple of weeks?” Elisa’s voice cracked. “You come here, tell me that magic’s real, that my daughter can use it. You changed into a cat for demonstration purposes, never mind what you did to the poor table. Now you’re telling me that you’ve had a surreal couple of weeks?! I hope you can appreciate just how unsettling that is!”

A small frown graced Minerva’s lips as she berated herself for adding another crack to the anxious woman’s already fragile psyche. “I assure you, it is nothing you should be concerned over,” she told Elisa. “The surprises have just been coming back to back lately.”

“I suppose I can relate to that,” Elisa said, studying her daughter, who was watching the two older women with a smile plastered on her face. “It’s just so much to take in. You want to take my daughter away to school; goblins are real; magic is real.”

“I do apologize for the haste,” Minerva said. “Your daughter’s name just recently appeared in the Book of Acceptance, and the term has already started. Under normal circumstances, I would have been here over the summer to ease you into the transition. As it is, she will have a week’s worth of catching up to do. Nothing too arduous, mind you, but a challenge nonetheless.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Elisa admitted. “It is all so very overwhelming.”

“I suggest we start by seeing exactly what the situation is with the goblins,” Minerva said, standing up. “Once we have that sorted, we can decide how to proceed.”

Apple Bloom didn’t even bother to look up from her meal when owls flooded the Great Hall. Two of the flock sought out both Hermione and Sweetie Belle to deliver copies of the "Daily Prophet".

“Remember,” Parvati commented, “you have to write home today.”

“We’ll get right on it after breakfast,” Seamus vowed.

“Hey, look,” Sweetie said, scanning her paper. “The Black person made a public statement to the papers, wireless, and magazine. What’s a wireless?”

“I’ll explain later,” Lavender said as Ginny leaned into her to better hear the news. “What does it say about Black?”

“He read a prepared statement then gave a magical vow affirming it was true to the best of his knowledge,” Hermione informed everyone. “There’s no doubt he’s innocent now. This is going to be a black eye for the Ministry.”

“Dean has been struggling with the puns lately.” Scootaloo chastised Hermione, “Don’t you go starting as well.”

“What was the statement?” Harry demanded.

“Just a sec,” Hermione said after eyeing Scootaloo, “I’ll read it verbatim. 'I, Sirius Black the Third, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do herby attest that I was never affiliated with the terrorist group known as the ‘Death Eaters’ nor attended to their lord in any manner. I did not willingly or knowingly betray my brother in all but blood, James Potter, or his wife Lily Potter. My vows as a magical godfather preclude the possibility of even attempting to betray my godson, Harry Potter. Furthermore, the wanton destruction and muggle deaths that occurred prior to my arrest were the sole responsibility of Peter Pettigrew. I further attest that I am innocent of all charges claimed by the Ministry and have been held without trial for the past decade.'”

“Ooo.” Sweetie commented, “That’s not ambiguous by any means.”

“Am . . . bee . . .what?” Scootaloo inquired.

“She means it’s not open to interpretation,” Hermione said. “I’ll bet his lawyer wrote it up for him.”

“Are you telling me that I should have been living with him instead of the Dursleys?” Harry meekly asked.

“It would seem that way,” Hermione agreed. “The Ministry really dropped the ball on this one.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” a man’s voice said. Looking up the children realized that their tutor had made his way over to the table

“Good morning, Mr. Goodman,” they all obediently chirped as the man examined Magah.

“I see you managed to get her to wear clothes,” he commented, watching the transfigured unicorn cram custard tarts into her face.

“That was harder than you might suspect,” Parvati grumbled, dejectedly.

“Table manners are next on the list I take it?” Mr. Goodman asked.

“She’s marginally better than Ron and Scootaloo,” Lavender noted. “I guess we could hold a class.”

“Sounds like you will be having have a busy weekend, then,” Mr. Goodman said, heading toward the professor’s table. “I guess we shouldn’t expect you to produce a cure for lycanthropy before the end of the month then?”

Watching the tutor leave, Neville asked, “So . . . a letter to Twilight as well as writing home then?”

“Nah.” Apple Bloom shook her head. “I know Zecora has that recipe. Ah can jus’ ask her for it.”

As her fellow tutor sat next to her at the professor’s table, Marcy Weiss said, “Did you just give them an impossible task to do? It’s not like we weren’t warned about doing that very thing last night. You’re lucky the headmaster wasn’t present to hear that.”

Richard looked at her and said, “I have a cousin who’s a werewolf; I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“You can’t truly expect them to actually come up with something,” Marcy huffed. “Gobs of people have tried to find a cure over the centuries.”

“Gobs of people have tried to resurrect the dead.”

“You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment,” Marcy warned.

“Maybe,” Richard agreed, “but it can’t hurt.”

“You’re cleaning up the mess,” Marcy reminded him, returning to her meal.

“What are the odds of there actually being a mess?”

Abruptly, the divinations professor, who was making a rare appearance, stood up. Her chair clattered to the ground as her eyes unfocused and she intoned in a loud, unearthly voice.


Stunned silence dominated the hall for a short eternity before Professor Babbling uttered, “I can’t believe she just delivered a true prophecy in front of everybody.”

“True prophecy?” Mr. Goodman said, “I can’t believe we let her participate in the betting pool.”

“That was terrible poetry,” Hermione opined.

“Yeah.” Lavender nodded her head. “Like someone just threw words together and hoped they rhymed.”

There was a pause. Sweetie Belle asked, "Do you think she was talking about us?"

Sarcastically, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo said, “Nah.”

Shoppers were a rarity in Diagon Alley on Saturday mornings. Shopkeepers would generally be enjoying brunch with scant hope of any business at that hour. What few witches and wizards there were scurried about on urgent business, sharing only perfunctory greetings. As a rule, finding those in the wizarding community who were morning people on Saturdays was nigh impossible. Finding what they did on Friday nights was not a topic to be discussed in polite company.

Professor McGonagall chaperoned the buoyant Abagail and the overwhelmed Elisa down the sparsely populated street. Their goal, the marble monstrosity that was Gringotts, was quickly reached since no one impeded their progress. As they approached the entrance, the paired guards brought their fists to their chests and bowed, still holding their wicked halberds vertical. The act, for Minerva, effectively removed any illusion she may have harbored that this was going to be a normal bank visit.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, all the goblins on the main floor flanked the entryway in an inverted "V" formation. In unison, they prostrated themselves before the small group and intoned, “How may we serve?”

“We’d like to see the Overseer.” Abagail beamed when the two older women just wordlessly stared in shock. “He told me to come to him if I had any requests or questions.”

The goblin at the point of the "V" stood. “A runner will be sent ahead to tell him of your imminent arrival. Please follow me.”

Numbly, Minerva followed after the newest Hogwarts student and her muggle mother. She promised herself that she’d wait until after she got back to Hogwarts to break out the firewhiskey.

. . .

The Overseer never spoke with humans. Never.

“So,” Neville said as the herd entered the portal to the Gryffindor common room, “whose trunk are we headed for?”

“Ron’s,” Lavender said. “We need to have you boys key us to your trunks.”

Philomena chirped her agreement from Sweetie Belle’s shoulder.

“Then we can get to work on those letters,” Parvati reminded everyone.

“Actually,” Dean suggested, “we may want to start with potty training Magah.”

“Dean!” Hermione gasped. “Why would you even mention such a . . .eeeew!”

"G-g-golly!" stammered Neville.

“Magah!” Scootaloo, Sweetie, and Parvati all exclaimed. “Bad unicorn!”

“Chuuu?” Magah tilted her head in confusion over the sudden anger the foals were radiating.

“She’s never done that before.” Sweetie insisted. “Why start now that she’s human?”

“As a matter of fact,” Hermione corrected, “she probably has. I believe the castle has been cleaning up after her automatically.”

“More likely the house elves have been.” Lavender nodded her head. “But, it’s still gross.”

“House elves?” Scootaloo questioned.

“How did you think your laundry gets done?” Parvati asked in return.

“Well,” Sweetie said, “now she needs a bath.”

“Let’s just get her up . . . Magah don’t squat there!” Lavender screeched.

“Ron, Harry, Neville, Sweetie!” Apple Bloom boomed. “Get ‘er upstairs and introduce her to a toilet. The rest of y’all help me find somethang to get this cleaned up with!”

The normally cool cavern chamber was sweltering with anger. The situation was completely unacceptable. Something had to be done about the appearance of the new Goblin Lord. There must be some loophole, some relief, some way out of the ancient covenant. The meeting table was packed full. Goblin advisors from ever field sat in attendance. Every available mind was being tapped.

Enraged, Overseer looked up expectantly at the runner who practically burst in as he rushed to delivered his news.

The runner broke protocol and blurted out, "There are two of them!"

Anypony could be forgiven for thinking that Fluttershy was a weak flyer. Anypony who saw the yellow and pink streak leading from the train station to her cottage would have quickly changed their opinion. Fluttershy was more than a little anxious when she opened the door to her home. She hadn’t planned on staying the night at the palace; it had just happened. Unfortunately, that meant nopony had fed the animals that morning, and nopony had fed them the night before. While none of her guests would starve from less than a day's forced fasting, some might be sorely tempted to partake of their fellow guests. It was prudent to remember that her home was a sanctuary only so long as her guests were content enough to resist their natural instincts. Thus, keeping them well-fed was a priority.

Fluttershy acted quickly to disrupt the natural order. “Mr. Whiskers! Please put down Mr. Squeakers this instant!”


“I don’t care who started it. Put him down now!”


“No, you may not have just a little nibble,” Fluttershy insisted. “Down now, please.”


“And you,” Fluttershy said, shifting her focus, “how many times do I have to warn you not to taunt critters who think you are tasty and go good with ketchup?”


Fluttershy rolled her eyes. “Or mustard.”


“No!” Fluttershy changed her focus again. “Onions are very, very bad for kitties; they can make you very, very sick.”

Mr. Whiskers was spared further nagging when a white rabbit raced down the stairs and planted himself in front of Fluttershy to begin squealing and stamping his foot rapidly.

“Angel,” Fluttershy said, worried, “I’m sorry; it’s hard to understand you when you’re so excited. Who’s Timmy and which well?”

The rabbit frowned, crossed its front paws, and squealed slowly.

“I’m so sorry.” Fluttershy blushed. “'Rat' and 'Timmy' sound so similar in rabbit speech.”

Angel Bunny squealed at her some more.

“Oh my,” Fluttershy gasped. “Where is he?”

The rabbit pointed a paw up the stairs. That was all the prompting Fluttershy needed; she zipped up the stairs without another word. Let it never be said that Fluttershy is a weak flyer.

Fay lifted the lid of Ron’s trunk. “Are you sure they’re in here?” she asked the anxious first-years.

“It’s where we were heading before the mess,” Scootaloo answered. “The colts still have to key us to their trunks, like they have the prefects.”

“And why are you here, Terisa?” Fay asked of the tagalong.

“Morbid curiosity,” the sixth-year girl replied.

“Are y’all down thar?!” Apple Bloom called down into the trunk.

“Yes!” Sweetie’s voice returned. “We’re in the bathroom!”

“In the bathroom?” Fay knitted her eyebrows together and climbed into the chest. Seconds later, she skidded to a halt, taking in the scene. Ron, Neville and Harry had stripped down to their boxers and Sweetie was in just her knickers. The four of them were trying their best to wash down Magah with soapy wash cloths. Unfortunately for them, Magah seemed to regard it as a wrestling game and was having a blast dunking them each in turn.

“Oh,” the sixth-year girl cooed, “this is just priceless.”

“A little help?” Sweetie asked, after surfacing for air.

“You’re the one who wanted a unicorn for a pet,” Fay stated, holding back a chuckle.

“I keep telling everyone,” Sweetie scowled, “she's not a pet.”

“You’re the only one who thinks that,” Fay replied.

“And, incidentally, she’s the only one with a unicorn,” Terisa noted.

“Let’s get in thar and help,” Apple Bloom commanded and started to remove her robe.

“It suddenly occurs to me,” Hermione said, following her lead, “that you have no idea what the phrase ‘nudity taboo’ means.”

Fay giggled. “That’s more of a muggle concept. You're in for a shock when you realize that there is only one prefect bathroom, or that the changing rooms and showers are segregated by house teams instead of gender.”

“Glub!” Harry protested as he became Magah’s next victim.

“Oh my! We need to get you to the vet right away!”


“No, we most certainly won’t just skip the vet and name him ‘lunch’!”

The scratch of quills on parchment filled the cozy kitchen in Ron's trunk. The herd was sitting at the table, writing long-overdue letters, when a somewhat bedraggled man in a sapphire blue wizard's robe popped in.

“Discord!” the ponyborn and Harry cried gleefully.

“Well, hello to you all as well.” Discord smiled as Scootaloo launched herself at him for hugs, followed closely by Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.

“Are you here for Harry again?” Sweetie asked.

“No.” Discord shook his head. “The shock from his first visit hasn’t worn off quite yet.”

“Just here to chat then?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Yes,” he purred, “and I come bearing gifts.”

“Oooo!” Scootaloo hopped eagerly from one foot to another. “Presents!”

Discord gestured at the remaining herd members, who were quietly watching the exchange. “Now, now, you already have yours; these are for the rest of your herd.” With those words he pulled out an exquisite puzzle box, opening it to reveal eight copper rings.

“Thank you!” Sweetie gushed at the sight of them.

“That thar is really swell of ya,” Apple Bloom agreed.

There was a flash of flames, and Philomena appeared with a corked flask and a letter.

“Also, I was hoping Philomena would consent to delivering some letters for me,” Discord said upon seeing the phoenix. "I hate to impose, but this is urgent."

“Oh,” Scootaloo said running her hand close to his face but not touching, “does that have something to do with how you got these two shiners?”

The ornate Victorian parlor hosted a rare guest. The trappings spoke of dignity and prominence, as befitted its owner. The table was set for tea for two, complete with platter of the tastiest morsels the house elf could create. Despite the formal setting, there was a hint of amusement in the air.

“It’s your own fault you know,” Judge Judith said to her guest. “He did tell you he’d be back in ten minutes.”

“He apparated right into my shower,” Amelia growled.

“As if you never took a shower with men during auror training,” Judith snorted. “Just admit that you overreacted and that you owe him an apology.”

“Right into my shower,” Amelia repeated.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take proper advantage of the situation.” Judith smiled.


“Come now, you’re not getting any younger, and he did say he liked the view.”

“That would have been irresponsible.” Amelia crossed her arms. “I can't just go about conjuring up contraceptive potions willy-nilly.”

“What’s the worst that could have happened?” Judith asked, unrelenting. “You could suddenly have a life outside your department?”

“I have Susan,” Amelia reminded her.

“It’s not the same.”

“Besides, Miss Rutter seems to have her eyes on him.”

“She doesn’t need to know you borrowed him,” Judith countered.

“I can’t believe we are having this conversation!” Amelia exclaimed.

“I can’t believe you passed up the opportunity.”

“Next time he pops in to my shower, I’ll make sure to ravish him,” Amelia said sarcastically.

“May I get that as a magical oath?”

“You’re serious.” Amelia noted in alarm.

“Of course, I am; it’s the best thing that could happen to you right now.”

“When did my love life become the subject of conversation?”

Judith took a sip of her tea, “The second you brought up him appearing in your shower.”

A flash of flames heralded the arrival of a red and golden bird.

“Looks like you’re saved by the phoenix,” Judith noted reaching out for the stack of letters the phoenix was carrying, only to pull her hand back when the bird tugged them away from her. “Seems like he found another way to deliver those. You really do owe him an apology.”

Sighing, Amelia retrieved the letters and thanked Philomena. “Let’s see what’s so important that he had to wake me.” She broke an official-looking wax seal on the first letter.

“Well?” Judith asked after watching her friend peruse the paper.

“Great, we don’t need this.” Amelia sighed, “It’s an official letter of condemnation for Albus Dumbledore, signed by three princesses.”

“At least they didn’t get the king or queen to sign it.” Judith grimaced. “Well, now we know Equestria has a monarchy.”

“It gets better,” Amelia said, nose in the second letter. “Official notice of dual citizenship for one Harry Potter.”

Judith whistled. “They’re serious about this.”

“Oh joy,” Amelia remarked as she read the third letter, “a restraining order against Albus as well as request that we honor it.”

“As if last week wasn’t fun enough by itself.” Judith sighed.

Amelia held up the final envelope. She could clearly feel the power pulsing within. It was bright red and addressed to Albus Dumbledore, no honorific. "So, whose turn is it to bell the cat?"

“Come in,” Richard Goodman called out upon hearing a knock on the tutors’ common room door.

“You wanted to see me?” Professor Snape asked with barely disguised contempt as he entered the room.

Sitting on a couch, Richard nodded his head at a corked flask sitting on the coffee table before him. The flask seemed to be made of a thick glass and contained a thick grey sludge that bubbled like a lava lamp.

“What is that?” Snape asked, picking up the potion and examining it through the glass.

“Cure for lycanthropy,” Richard stated flatly.

Snape’s head snapped up and his gaze narrowed. “Please elaborate.”

“Apple Bloom brought it by just a while ago.” Richard sat back. “Apparently she was ordered to tell us that it is too complicated for her to brew on her own and that she wasn’t to try without strict supervision.”

“Good,” Snape said uncorking the flask. “It seems her prior potions teacher has some sense, unlike her town librarian.”

“They got the resurrection spell from a town librarian?!” Richard gasped.

Snape merely grunted as he cautiously waved the potion’s scent toward his nose.

“She also mentioned that she would have gotten this to me sooner if they hadn’t needed to bathe and potty train Magah.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement,” Snape noted, replacing the cork. “Let me get this to a contact at St. Mungo’s. It needs to be tested before it can be administered, and I simply don’t have either the time or the willing werewolf needed for a proper test.”

“I was going to give it to my cousin,” Richard objected.

“Give your cousin an untested potion?” Snape openly sneered. “That would not be wise. Let the healers do their job and see if it’s safe for consumption.”

"I guess I can wait and err on the side of caution," Richard agreed.

"You'd better be prepared for a long wait," warned the professor. "It'll take forever to find a werewolf desperate enough to try an untested potion."

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