• 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 35: Mistaken Species

The throne room in Canterlot Castle was resplendent in its full glory. The workers in the palace took pride in their work. No pony could honestly claim to find any scorch marks, even though it was only a few days after the incident. The melted marble had been removed and replaced with fresh slabs. Tapestries, already rotated on a monthly basis, had been replaced a little ahead of schedule. Luckily, thrones had been a common gift over the centuries, and new artists were always vying to be the creator of the next seat of power. In the same manner that a house full of computer geeks could throw together a working, just slightly less than top of the line, computer from the spare parts lying around, so too, in a remarkably short time, could the palace staff cobble together a breathtaking throne room from long-forgotten items gathering dust in storage.

So Celestia sat on her throne from new old stock, and she saw to the ponies who had been dismissed so rudely the prior evening. Unfortunately, the current petitioner was making the princess wonder whether the noblemare were really just that stupid or whether she just assumed Celestia was. The mare’s title for her proposal, “The Fair Access Civic Renovation Project”, could not have been any more misleading. The highborn wanted the city to expropriate several blocks of affordable housing, which she considered an eyesore, and convert them into a garden with restricted admittance. Needless to say, the ponies being displaced would not meet the requirements for the access list.

Celestia was just about to issue a mild reprimand and firmly reject the project when her sister stepped out of the shadows of an alcove, where she had been observing the exhibition.

“Sister,” Luna said proudly, walking up to claim her seat, the throne next to her sibling’s, “if thou wouldst not mind allowing us to handle this.”

Wondering why Luna was not sleeping, Celestia nodded her approval.

Turning, to the now-shaking noblemare, Luna declaimed, “Inner Radiance, thou didst propose this very injustice to us during Night Court and were rightfully chastised. Now we see that thou doest attempt the same deception on our sister. Very well, the city shall have its new garden, the site shall be where your estate in the south district now stands. No great burden, since thou hast another not far away. Thou art evicted without recourse or repayment, as thou would have us do to the victims of your scheme.”

“But that’s my home!” Inner Radiance wailed.

“It was,” Luna acknowledged.

“But, you can’t!” Inner sobbed, looking, with begging eyes, toward Celestia.

“We just did,” Luna stated as Inner found no mercy from the monarch of the day. “Thine insult to ponykind and thine disregard of ponies less fortunate shall cost you on this day.”

“That was a touch more severe than what I had planned,” Celestia noted as Inner fled the throne room, trailed by several other ponies who decided now was not a good time to petition the throne.

“We were lenient before,” Luna said, noting the arrival of a squadron of pegasi who were ignoring the line and flying straight for the thrones. “It would seem that it only encouraged her to try another route.”

“Mmm,” Celestia acknowledged, before focusing her attention on the new arrivals, who touched down in unison. “Sky Sunder,” she said, greeting the elderly pegasus at the front of the formation, “it’s been too long. Welcome back to Canterlot.”

There was some muttering by the waiting ponies, but none raised any objections. Everypony could plainly see that the massed pegasi were far from happy.

“Princess Celestia, Princess Luna,” the old blue mare bowed as best as her arthritic, wrinkled knees allowed, her snow-white mane falling forward slightly, “where is he? Where is Harry Potter?”


Ron looked around his well-occupied sitting room and said, “You know, I should probably be looking for Scabbers instead of goofing around like this. He’s gotten out before and always shows up after a couple days. It’s not like him to be gone for so long.”

“Quit stalling and pony up,” one of the third-year girls told him firmly. “It’s your turn.”

Ron shuffled his feet and tried a new approach. “I don’t exactly want to be held up by my bottom,” he complained.

“Magah is stuck to the floor.” Katie Bell pointed at the still-struggling woman. “She’s none too happy about it either.”

“I don’t want her to hurt herself,” Ron said. “Maybe we should hold off for when she’s asleep or something.”

“Ron,” Fred said, “Gryffindors charge forward.”

“I just really don’t want to be pink!” Ron confessed. “Can’t this wait until after we figure out how to make me not pink?”

“Hey!” Dean protested.

‘Pink is a good color,” Sweetie Belle insisted.

“Pink is my new obsession,” a fifth-year girl mentioned. “It’s not even a question.”

"Pink is my favorite crayon,” a muggleborn girl added.

“You’d look good in pink,” Parvati asserted.

All the girls voice their approval for a pink pony while the boys looked on in pity.

“Besides,” Harry said, “what are the odds that you’ll turn up pink too?”

The color expert stated, “Actually, Dean’s fuchsia.”

“He’s pink!” Ron exclaimed. “I don’t know what the odds are, but they’re not nearly good enough.”

“Ah can’t believe y'all are having a fit over being pink,” Apple Bloom groused.

“It’s a guy thing,” Ron said.

“Well, at least the pink is better visually,” a second-year girl noted.

“Get on with it!” a fourth-year girl yelled.

“Yes, get on with it!” the rest of the females echoed.

“All right, all right,” Ron said, “hold your horses.”

“I’d rather hold a cute pink pony,” Terisa said, still stroking Dean while leering at Ron. "But, a fuchsia one will do just fine."

Ron gulped, screwed his eyes shut, and changed.

“Aaaaaaaaa!’ Magah wailed as she unsuccessfully tried to stand and reach the newest pony.

Percy leaned over and petted her. “Now now girl, calm down. You’ll be allowed to see them once you learn not to pick them up by their tails.”

Magah responded by giving him a quizzical look that clearly asked why he had touched her like that.

“Well,” George said, “you’re not pink.”

“In fact,” Fred added, nodding, “I think you’re the same shade of yellow as Apple Bloom.”

“All you need is a bow; then, we wouldn’t be able to tell you two apart.” George concluded.

“His hair is darker,” Lavender observed.

“Let’s compare.” Fay commanded, “Bloom, you're next.”

“Oh, all right,” Apple Bloom said and shifted where she stood. The little pony then trotted right over and held a forehoof up next to Ron. “Yeah, that thar is almost an exact match.”

“Are we positive those two weren’t separated at birth?” one of the older boys asked.


The dark walnut paneling in the manor's study reflected its occupant's mood. Alice was not moping around. She just lacked any concrete course of action. What’s more, she was definitely not sulking, despite not getting as far as she would have liked with Discord. At least she had managed to get him to change out of his overused suit. Most importantly, she was not bitter. Fluttershy did not have him locked down yet; Alice just needed to up her game. After all, the other woman couldn’t be perfect; there had to be ways that Alice could outshine her. She was not lying to herself.

With effort, she once again reminded herself that Fluttershy had been on the field first, and, if anyone were poaching, it was Alice. Once again, the thought brought her no comfort, nor did it lessen her craving for the man.

Alice listlessly wandered down the hallway with no goal in mind. Ignoring her surroundings, she berated herself. All of her life, she had essentially ignored the male half of the population. Now that she had accomplished her life’s goal, the normal biological desires had struck with a vengeance. She now had every possession that she had ever imagined she wanted, only to find that her previous imagination had been lacking. It had overlooked the most important ambition.

Discord was powerful. Discord was handsome. Discord was funny. Discord was loving, as evidenced by his preoccupation with caring for the children. Discord would make an exceptional father. Sadly, Discord wasn’t Alice’s, at least not yet. It was beginning to look like she really would have to share.

A particular array of whirring and clicking drew Alice from her thoughts and she looked up in time to see an object land on chest of drawers situated in the hallway. Suddenly curious, Alice drew her wand and crept forward to investigate. The object turned out to be an owl. Well, at least it looked like and owl, an owl made of brass. There were more whirs and clicks as the clockwork bird offered a leg. Alice saw that it bore a letter, just like a living owl would.

With some hesitation, Alice retrieved the letter and checked it for curses. Meanwhile, the automaton spread its impossible wings and took flight, disappearing down the hallway.

With a small frown, Alice opened the letter and read.

Foolish mortal, Fluttershy is not competition. Speak with her.

Euridice


“Let’s see,” Angelina said, petting Hermione in her lap, “so far we have three normal ponies, two pegasi, and a unicorn.”

“Earth ponies,” Apple Bloom spoke up; she was being pampered in the lap of an older girl to whom she had yet to be introduced. “We're called earth ponies.”

“Okay three earth ponies then.” Fay nodded. “Ginny, you're next.”

“Huh?” Ginny looked up from where she was running her fingers through Harry’s little feathers. The colt just sat there with his tongue hanging out and his eyes barely open.

“Let someone else cuddle Harry and get over here and change,” Fay reiterated.

“Can’t I be last?” Ginny whined.

“Let the rest of us have a go at Harry,” one of the older girls said, holding out her hands.

Ginny pouted, but handed Harry over. She shuffled over to the center of the room and just shrank.

“I’ll never get over seeing that,” a fifth-year boy commented as Magah squealed and tried to stand up again.

“Add another unicorn to the list,” Terisa commented as Dean snored softly in her lap.

“She’s the first one of us who’s hair color doesn’t match their mane color,” Neville noted.

“She looks like a miniature Big Mac.” Sweetie exclaimed.

“She looks like a hamburger?” Seamus questioned.

“A what?” Scootaloo and several others asked.

“There’s a type of muggle restaurant that sells a burger with that name,” an older muggleborn student offered.

“Oh,” Apple Bloom said. “No, Big Mac is mah big brother. It’s actually short for Big Macintosh.”

“Your family has a serious apple obsession,” someone suggested.

“Yup,” Apple Bloom said proudly

“Aaaaaaaa!” Magah screamed loudly, trying to reach for Ginny.

“Calm down Magah,” Ginny said, trotting up to the transfigured unicorn but stopping just outside her reach. “You need to keep it down.”

“Coooo?” Magah commented still stretching toward Ginny.

Sighing, Ginny walked into range. “Gently,” she said. “Gentleeeee.” Magah snatched Ginny up and deposited the small pony onto her lap just like the other girls were doing.

“I can’t help but think that this is incredibly ironic and backwards,” Percy said, carefully watching Magah paw at his sister.

“Patil,” Fay announced, “you're next.”


Within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, there was one place other than the library that was redolent with knowledge. The office wasn’t dirty, so much as cluttered. Despite the apparent lack of organization, there wasn’t even a speck of dust in the whole room. "Occupied" would would have been a better description. Every available flat surface was playing host to a jumbled pile of books. The three overworked bookshelves had long ago reached their limits despite all of the expansion charms employed. The chamber practically shouted, "Here be the abode of a Ravenclaw", which was appropriate, since the office belonged to one Filius Flitwick. Let it be known, that he wasn’t the head of Ravenclaw on the merits of his charm alone. His charms, on the other hand . . .

The diminutive man stood in front of his fireplace and watched the green flames expectantly. It wasn’t long before his patience was rewarded by the arrival of a long pair of legs. Looking up, he confirmed that they were attached to a lovely lady with flowing blonde hair. The mere sight of her caused lust to bubble through his entire being. He had to struggle to maintain coherent thoughts that didn’t include what he wanted to do with her. The yearning to run his hands all over her body and start licking monopolized his thought process.

“Paola,” Flitwick said, his mouth watering at the sight of her, “would you mind toning it down? It’s getting hard to think over here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Filius,” the vision of heaven said with a small frown. “I always lose control of my allure whenever I travel by floo.” Her accent wasn’t easily described, but she didn’t sound British.

“Quite all right,” Filius said, leading her to a small table set with tea for two, “but I’m afraid that I will require a minute or two to recover before I’m useful enough for intelligent conversation.”

“I must say,” Paola said, sitting in one of the chairs, “your discipline is most commendable. I’ve been molested more than once after stepping out of the floo. I would not have held it against you, if you had taken a sample, but I am grateful that it did not come to pass.”

Red infused Filius’ face. “I’m ashamed to admit the thought had crossed my mind.”

“And yet, you did not act on the impulse.” She smiled, still beautiful, but no longer so overwhelming. “It speaks well toward your character.”

“Not that I’m not overjoyed to see you, Paola,” Flitwick said changing the subject, “but I am surprised that you would decide to make this delivery in person.”

“How could I not come?” Paola flashed a pout that still took his breath away. “Your request can only mean that you have one of ours is in your class, one so young as to have yet to experience her first allure release. Since we know of no families currently living on the isles, this means she is a lost child and will be in the need of guidance.”

“Ah,” Flitwick said, “I can see how you would come to that conclusion. It is incorrect, however.”

Paola smiled again, this time predatorially. “Oh really? I fail to see how that could be, unless they started making wands from human hair.”


“These two could be twins as well,” Katie Bell said holding Parvati up close to Harry. “We got two blue pegasi here with black manes.”

“Nah,” the resident color expert said and pointed her hand at Harry, “he’s more of a royal blue where she’s clearly navy. Notice how his fur shifts closer to purple than hers does?”

“And she’s bigger than him,” Fred noted.

“Harry, mate, you need to put on some serious ounces there,” George agreed.

Parvati wiggled in Katie’s hands. “You know, I’m not a stuffed animal.”

Katie giggled and brought her close for a hug. "Well, you’re not a tree either, much too cuddly.”

“Um,” one of the third-year boys asked, observing the distribution of the colorful furry first-years, “why are the girls hogging all the ponies?”

“Were you going to try and take one away from them?” his friend asked.

“No,” he admitted, “I like having my arms attached.”

“Well then, stupid question.”

“Okay,” Fay said, taking charge once more, “Scootaloo, you’re up.”

“I can’t.” Scootaloo said, “I’m stuck for another week.”

“Really?” a second-year boy said, “or are you just being chicken.”

“I am NOT a chicken!” Scootaloo all but screeched, suddenly feathers sprouted from the boy in question and soon he was a mass of white fluffiness.

“Oooo, Finite,” the seventh-year male prefect said, waving his wand to cancel the effect as he descended the stairs into the trunk. “Impressive accidental magic there.”

“Calm down Scoot.” Fay said, “If you can’t change, you can’t change."

Downcast, Scootaloo looked toward her formerly feathered classmate. "I'm sorry. If I change now, I might permanently cripple my wings." The second-year tentatively laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Fay coughed nervously before she continued. "Well, then, we’ll just move on to Sweetie.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Hermione piped up. “Magah is likely to have a fit. Let’s do Sweetie later when we have some privacy, fewer people to trample that way.”

“Okay,” Fay huffed, “then Neville.”

As Neville made his way to the center of the room, Ron let out an angry growl. “Get that thing out of my hair.”

“Mah bow!” Apple Bloom gasped, checking her mane with a hoof only to find her bow gone.

“Now that is just uncanny,” the girl holding Ron said. “We just need a way to make his hair brighter and he’d be a dead ringer.”

“The pink thing in my hair needs to go,” Ron emphasized. “Now.”

“But it looks good there,” the color expert opined. “It really complements your color palette.”

Frustrated, Ron reared up, threw his head back, opened his mouth wide and flailed his front hooves dramatically. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Stunned silence met his outburst, every pair of eyes resting on his unexpected display. The seconds ticked by until one girl said, “That was beyond cute.”

“Does anyone have a camera?” another girl asked hopefully.

“Could you do that again?” the girl holding him asked as she fluffed the bow in his hair.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Apparently, he could.


With suspicious eyes, Rarity studied the latest resident of her home. She hadn’t been within five feet of him since the day he had arrived, and she had chosen today to investigate further. Deceptively, George sat there and did nothing. Twenty minutes of solitary observation had yielded nothing. Admittedly, he was very good, but she wasn’t fooled. She knew it was just an act; she could practically feel his hunger.

The instructions had claimed that each box etched on his brass plate provided access to a separate chamber. The third one was where he kept the ponies he happened to consume. That one was to be avoided at all costs. Square four was supposed to control access to a clothes storage closet. Rarity very much wanted to investigate that claim, but first, she needed backup. And maybe a sledgehammer, just to be safe.

“You’re not still afraid of him, are you?” a voice next to her suddenly asked.

“Eeeeeek!”

Slightly dazed, Rarity found that she was living proof, that even though unicorns couldn’t stick to ceilings with their hooves, they were still capable of hanging around. Using her forelegs, she tried to wrench free her horn which had become lodged between two ceiling planks. After a minute of fruitless effort, she said, “Pinkie, be a dear and fetch me the crowbar from the back room.”

“Okie dokie, lokie.” The sounds of a mare pronking away could be heard.

“This is so undignified.” Rarity muttered, crossed her forelegs and dangled.


“Longbottom,” the color expert scolded, holding up the newest earth pony, “with the wide array of vibrant colors available how could you possibly come out as such a boring tan?”

“Sorry.” Neville said sarcastically, “I was trying for purple.”

“I think he looks perfectly splendid.” Sweetie reached out to claim her friend. “Not everypony ends up being colorful.”

“He just looks so,” Katie Bell said thoughtfully, “normal, compared to the rest of you, what, with miss phosphorescent over there.”

“I’m sure I won’t actually glow in the dark,” Hermione commented.

“Don’t get me wrong,” the color expert protested. “He’s still cute! I was just hoping for another pink pony.”

“What is with you girls and pink?” Ron whined.

“Pink, it’s like red but not quite,” Angelina informed everyone.

“Okay, that’s it!” Scootaloo barked. “I’m calling for a pink time-out here.”

Fay laughed softly. “That just leaves you Finnigan. Ready to try your luck and see what color you end up?”

Seamus strutted into the center of the room. “I’m hoping for red and black,” he said confidently.

“I’m thinking lime green, myself,” Percy commented as he sat on the floor next to Magah. making sure she wasn’t too rough with Ginny. He still couldn't get over the irony of the role reversal as Magah stroked Ginny on her lap.

“Two sickles on sunny yellow,” one girl chirped up.

“My money's on jasmine,” another girl countered.

“Teal,” a third offered.

“Tangerine,” said a second-year.

“Salmon,” countered Katie.

“Copper,” proposed the eldest.

“Okay okay.” Seamus groaned. “Now you girls are just being silly. I’m pretty sure I heard a flower, a fish, and a fruit in there.”

Terisa giggled and said, “Don’t keep us waiting; show us your colors.”

With a sigh, Seamus shrunk.

“Again, with the boring,” the color expert complained. “Ivory white with a sandy brown mane just doesn’t live up to the hype. At least you’re a unicorn.” Taking advantage of a moment's hesitation by the others, she snatched up the colt and cuddled him. "And, you're still cute!"


“Rarity!” The white unicorn heard her front door open followed by the sound of multiple ponies entering. “Rarity! Something new has come . . . up,” Rainbow Dash called out, only to trail off at the end of the sentence.

“Um.” Rarity heard Applejack speak as the unicorn was forced to look at the wall opposite the entrance. “Yer horn's stuck in the ceiling. That musta been Equestria's largest hammer.”

“The crusaders are in a different dimension,” Twilight said, before asking the obvious question. “So, Discord or Pinky?”

“Pinky,” Rarity sighed. “She went in the back to look for a crowbar.”

“Mwhahahahahaha,” Rainbow Dash cackled. There was a thump as she connected with the floor.

Twilight caught Rarity in her magical grasp and pried the boards away. “Can we please have a boring day? We are so overdue for a boring day.”

“Thank you darling,” Rarity said gratefully. “I have such a crick in my neck.”

“Found it!” Pinky sing-songed as she bounced into the room, crowbar in her mouth. She stopped when she noticed that Rarity had already been transferred to the ground. She spat the tool out onto her forehoof and looked at it. Then, with a shrug, she tossed it over her shoulder.

*crash* “Mrrrroooooow!”

Looking back the way, she had come, Pinky apologized, “Oops, sorry Opal.”


The young man appeared to be on a mission. He was just shy of nineteen, not yet old enough to be taken seriously. That was all right with him; he wasn’t trying to stand out. The exact opposite was true. He didn’t want anyone to comment on the fact that he had been loitering, leaning on the lamp post, for a couple hours now. Staking out a record store just didn’t seem a normal thing to do. He had thought the same thing himself several times, and had wandered away, only to force himself to come back.

Despite the setbacks, his vigil had borne fruit. There had been a number of individuals who had walked past the record store and had not continued to cross in front of the book store, and vice versa. More importantly, people who absolutely hadn’t been there before had walked by as well. He had to fight with his brain to acknowledge the occurrence. Now, he was just waiting for the right somebody to appear so that he could make his move.

Soon a young woman, his own age, put in an appearance. She was easily out of his league, but he wasn’t there to try his luck with talking to women. Nervously, he approached her and said hello.

“Hello,” she replied, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, “but did you just leave the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Yes,” she said, losing some her wariness.

“Could I impose on you for some help?” he asked. “I can’t see it myself, and I’d like to visit Diagon Alley.”

“Oh,” she said smiling shyly, “muggle with magical family are you then? Sure, I can take the time to show you the way.” With that she reached out and took his hand in hers.

With that act, he considered his day a success, even before the pub filled his vision.


The ghost floated down into the trunk and observed a strange gathering. All about the room, girls sat with remarkably life-like stuffed toys as the boys looked on with amusement, and more than a little envy. Grinning at the sight, she drifted over to individual she sought.

“Fay Dunbar,” the ghost said formally, “Professor Flitwick has sent me to inform you that he requires the presence of the student Sweetie Belle. He also wanted me to inform you that both Harry Potter and Scoot Aloo are to be sent to the infirmary immediately at the request of the school nurse.”

“Thank you, Grey Lady,” Fay said with a small curtsey. “I’ll see them along right away.”

“Your prompt compliance is appreciated,” the ghost said and faded from sight.

“You heard her,” Fay said turning to the crowd. “Potter, Aloo, off to see Madam Pomfrey. Belle, head to Flitwick’s office.”


The empty nest reverberated with the sound of a familiar voice as the flames in the fireplace turned green. “Molly are you there?”

“Yes Arthur,” Molly called, rushing into the house. She had been outside with her guest, watching the young witch put her new broom through its paces. “Why did they call you into the office on a Saturday?”

“Molly,” Arthur said through the floo at a lower volume, “we’ve got a real mess here. I won’t be making supper at this rate. Some thug has transferred his soul into a muggle doll and has been running around killing innocents. Worse, the muggles are aware of him.”

“That’s horrible,” Molly gasped, sure that the statute of secrecy was at risk.

“Luckily, someone caught the beginning of this debacle before it got out of hand,” Arthur continued. “All the muggles insist that the doll is a result of puppeteering and camera angles. Whoever came up with that nonsense has a place waiting for him with the Muggle-worthy Excuse Committee. They’ve already stated that they’ll hire him forthwith, if he just makes himself known.”

“What about the doll?” Molly asked. “Have you tracked it down?”

“No, but several muggles have reported seeing him around London.” Arthur sighed. “He seems to prefer muggle shopping centers. Apparently, he’s frightened a large number of people and terrified more than a few children. The auror are running all over the place trying to collect information without being too intrusive. The thing is suspected in over a dozen murders and seems to favor adults with close proximity to children.”

“Shouldn’t you be letting the aurors hunt it down?” Molly continued worriedly.

“Molly, this thing is, by its very definition, a misuse of muggle artifacts. I’m afraid I’m going to be here for the long haul.” Arthur sighed. “He’s good at hiding and covering his tracks. This is going to take some time.”

“You be careful Arthur Weasley,” Molly admonished her husband. “I will not be responsible for telling our children that their father was killed by a child’s doll.”

“Don’t worry, Molly,” Arthur said with a measure of reassurance. “We're sticking to groups of three. After we flush him out, the rest will be child’s play.”

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