• 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 58: Potential Girl Band Material

Twilight Sparkle used to think that Manehattan was a huge city. This city, London, easily put that proud metropolis to shame. She had stopped counting the structures taller than the Crystaller Building after she had reached fifteen. The fact that all of this had been built without magic was mind-boggling. Clearly, humans must have a grasp of engineering far beyond any pony's.

The buildings were only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Simple ground transportation was faster and more efficient than anything she had seen before. When Twilight had expressed her amazement at the vast network of paved roads, Emma had dismissed them as a mundane feature. Construction of such infrastructure with cobblestones from Canterlot to Ponyville alone would take all the construction ponies in Equestria several lifetimes. She had once been impressed by the hard-packed, magic-reinforced roadways of Manehattan's business district. They were nothing compared with the single superhighway they had just recently left behind.

She could scarcely imagine what human technology could do when coupled with human magic, to say nothing of the boost Equestrian magic would add. With expansion charms alone, her modest library could house more volumes than the Royal Canterlot Library. Earth ponies could travel at pegasus speeds without breaking a sweat. Ponies from around Equestria could come together without having to leave home.

The journey on the ribbon of black top came to an end all too soon as Emma Granger turned the overpowered go-cart into a building that seemed to be designed to store nothing but these vehicles. The Equestrians were amazed as they passed seven floors filled to capacity before Emma found a slot hidden between two behemoths.

“We’re here.” Emma declared, amusement evident in her voice. “I hope the trip didn’t traumatize you two too badly.”


In the Great Hall, the moans of Monday morning misery came to an abrupt halt when Professor McGonagall escorted seven young women to their table. Every eye was locked on the group as they demonstrated how dramatically shades of pink clashed with Slytherin green. Without comment, the transfiguration professor made her way to her seat at the staff table to have her own meal.

“At least they are wearing clothes this time,” a girl from Hufflepuff commented.

“That hair can’t be natural,” yet another added.

“Why are they sitting with the Slytherins?” asked a third.

“I sure hope they don't expect us to wear those hideous pink uniforms,” a Ravenclaw girl practically whined.

The chatter abruptly stopped again when the headmaster tapped his fork against his goblet. "Good morning, one and all," he said, standing up. “I would like to announce some changes to the faculty as well as some new additions to our school.”

The students all pointedly looked at the new girls in confusion and then back at Dumbledore.

“First of all,” Dumbledore said, “Mr. Goodman shall be taking the position of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

This proclamation was meet with loud cheers and a good deal of clapping.

Dumbledore let the outbursts continue for a short time before raising a hand for silence. “In that vein, he will be employing a teacher’s assistant.” He waved his hand at a tall stranger with vivid hair, sitting next to their new DADA professor. “Please welcome Miss Berrytwist.”

More clapping was heard as the students studied the dangerously attractive woman with hungry eyes.

“Last, and certainly, not least,” Dumbledore said, “Professor Snape has accepted a septet of advanced students for postgraduate potions studies. Their responsibilities shall include supporting the teaching of his lower-division classes. With the extra help, he shall be able to devote more time to his advanced classes.” He paused for a second to let the news sink in. “All students who received Exceeds Expectations or above on their O.W.L.S. are now encouraged to continue potions at the N.E.W.T. level. If you are interested, please contact the head of your house and it shall be added to your schedule. The Ministry shall be providing books and supplies this year for those of you who take advantage of this opportunity.”


“Books!” Twilight hungrily exclaimed, breaking away from the two other women she had been walking with. She soon had her face pressed against a large plate glass window, drooling over the beauties just out of her reach. Lyra was less than two steps behind her.

Any other time, Emma would have laughed at the display, but this time, she was too busy staring at the dingy pub next to the bookstore.


The early-rising regulars of the Leaky Cauldron were treated to the spectacle of a young witch rolling out of the floo. She had tucked herself into a tight ball that evenly distributed the bruises as she tumbled half the length of the pub with her long yellow hair flailing like a banner. “Do not like!” she squealed after coming to a rest when she crashed into a chair.

A wizard poked his fork into his morning fry up. “First time in the floo?”

“AND LAST!” The yellow-haired woman seethed as the floo flared again, this time disgorging a young woman with lime green and aqua hair bisected neatly down the middle. What looked like the start of an uncontrolled tumble turned into an aerial cartwheel followed by a back handspring capped with a round-off.

As she rose from her bow, she strolled over to her companion and asked, "Barbie, what are you doing on the floor?"

“Shut up, Graceful.” Barbie barked as she struggled to her feet.

The next woman through demonstrated a perfect superhero landing, without the invulnerability.

“Looks like we are having a morning of newbies.” Another wizard abandoned his seat to quickly kneel beside the downed woman. "Let me have a look, I’m a healer.”

The next woman bowled him over as she stumbled out of the floo.

“Tom could charge admission for this entertainment,” a witch sitting at the bar commented.


“I need a quill and parchment to make a list,” Twilight moaned as she took in the titles of the books before her. “Lyra, why did you drag me out of my house before I was prepared?”

“Emma made me leave my saddle bags at her house. I’m in the same boat,” Lyra countered, her nose buried in a book on human physiology.

“You two are as bad as my daughter,” Emma said, looking at the pile of books Twilight had procured. “Tell you what, let’s just take this stack back to the car. I’ll put the purchase on my card, and you can pay me back when we get to the bank.”

“Oh.” Twilight grimaced, taking another book off a shelf. “I forgot I can’t just leave a promissory note. We do need to get money first before making a proper purchase.”

“Proper?” Emma eyed the stack that towered above her once more. “You may be even worse than Hermione.”


Despite sporting the trappings of a normal bank, Gringotts was very much like something from the Brothers Grimm. A normal muggle would have run away screaming at the first sight of a goblin guard. An HMRC agent would have recruited the floor manager on the spot.

The serious atmosphere was upended by the appearance of what could be described as a painfully pink parody of the Seven Dwarfs. Anyone mistaking Madam Hooch for Snow White would be in for a long stint in St. Mungo's. Somber conversation gave way to ill-concealed laughter from the witches and wizards. The normally stoic guards raised their eyebrows in surprise as the floor manager stormed over to confront this affront to goblin sensibilities.

Glaring at the group, Floor Manager Sharptack growled, "Normally, I could not care less what witches choose to wear, but your group looks like trouble. What business do you have today?”

Unfazed by the routine goblin bluntness Madam Hooch replied, "We are here to meet Arthur Weasley."

"There is no 'Arthur Weasley' here."

The priggish dowager Ironbottom marched over to confront the flagrantly brazen youngsters. "For shame!" she said. "How could you go out in public in such affronts to decency? I wouldn’t let my three year old great grandniece wear those shameful displays and mark my words, they would fit her better than they do you. Have you no shame? "

Madam Hooch said, "See here now, my students' only crimes are against fashion."

Ignoring her, Ironbottom said, "Don't you have anything to say for yourselves?"

Barbie stepped forward. "No," she said. "I'd rather sing.". As she drew in a deep breath, everyone inside could feel the magic building. Ironbottom's face fell as she realized that she had made a mistake of the highest order.


Arthur Weasley threw open the doors to Gringotts in time to witness an impossible sight. Goblins were intermingled with witches and wizards in a multi-tiered kick line. The normally reserved Mrs. Ironbottom was swinging from a chandelier, adding a surprising mezzosoprano to the chorus. As the last strains of melody died away, the spell was broken, and everyone went back to their business, fervently praying that no one had recorded the performance.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his three-piece suit as he located Madam Hooch. He clutched a plain, textbook-sized wooden box as he approached her. It came as no surprise that her entourage was blatantly non-conformal. "Good morning, ladies," he said to the youngsters. Nodding to their chaperone, he added, "Madam Hooch."

“Hello Mr. Weasley.” Madam Hooch returned. “Girls, say hello to Arthur Weasley.”

“Hello to Arthur Weasley,” the females promptly recited.

Arthur smiled at the icebreaker. "Please allow me to introduce myself properly. My name in Arthur Weasley, and I am the liaison between your government and the Ministry of Magic, the wizarding government. On behalf of the Ministry, I welcome you today. Yours is the first step of what we hope will be many to draw our two peoples together as friends and partners."

A spindly redhead stepped forward and replied, "Well met, Arthur Weasley. On behalf of Princess Celestia and her school, we welcome your services and give our sincere thanks for allowing us to pursue this opportunity to share knowledge."

Arthur said, "If you have any concerns or issues, please do not hesitate to contact me. I will do my best to resolve any issues. I know you're all eager to start your shopping, so let me start by giving you access to your funds." Opening the box, he displayed seven vault keys, in a velvet-lined holder. "Touching your vault key to a witch's or wizard's invoice will transfer the agreed upon sum from your vault to theirs." Picking up the first key from the array, he asked, "Which of you is Raspberry Crunch?"

“I am.”

“Here you go,” he said, handing over the key before proceeding to call each of the remaining Equestrians in turn.


A trio of tailgaters stopped as the helpful witch continued on her way through the wall, into Diagon Alley. Emma Granger looked, puzzled, as her colorfully coiffured companions gawked at the archway that had morphed from what had been a solid brick wall. She said, "I thought this sort of magic would be old hat for you two."

"It is," replied Lyra, "but this is different. I can't even begin to explain how beautiful this piece of spellwork is."

"What do you mean?" asked Emma.

"It is both creative and impressive," Twilight gushed. "It's like talking a starving Tazlwyrm into giving up its meal." She vibrated with excitement as she continued. "They didn't use brute force and ram the change through in one go. They synergistically linked several tiny spells in sequence. It's like rolling a snowball. Each small spell uses its energy and the energy from the previous spells to bootstrap the next. They didn't waste even a microthaum in mana to pass the Blueberry Hill power threshold; no flash of light, no field disturbance, all the energy went into triggering the spell. I can't even sense any mana crystals; it must be triggered by the witch's focus and pull the rest of what it needs from the ambient mana. I wish I had my horn. I could do a thorough analysis with it. We are so coming back for a closer look when I get my wand."

“Couldn’t you have done the same thing?” Emma asked, looking at the excited younger woman.

"Yes, but the user needs barely enough mana to blink an eye to run this spell. I would need approximately 0.56872 megathaums, and more than half of that would go into waste light and heat when the portal slammed open." She turned to Emma. "Are you sure the people here would notice a unicorn?"

Emma nodded.

Deflating slightly, Twilight pouted. "Fine. This is such a simple concept, but its potential applications are revolutionary. I can already see how I can adapt it for a disabled pony."

“Humans were always supposed to have been creative,” Lyra said. “Here’s proof.”

“Let’s hurry before it closes,” Emma said, darting through the portal.

“It’s like an entirely different world in here.” Lyra said, following her closely.

“This is a magic-dense area,” Emma offered, “completely different building styles.”

“I like it,” Lyra said calmly. “Where do we start?”

“I think you may be suffering from information overload,” Emma said.

“If this is suffering, then call me a masochist.”


With clinical detachment, Madam Hooch cataloged Barbie's breakfast: blueberry muffin, toast with marmalade, oatmeal, and tea. It was a pity that the use of wands was forbidden within Gringotts,

“Do not like!” Barbie declared loudly, exiting the minecart as fast as equinely possible. With nothing left to give, she dropped to her hands and knees and performed the traditional earth pony field blessing.

“Oh, come on. On the Jolting Thrill Coaster Scale, this barely ranks above 'hold my hoof, mommy'," said Graceful Charm from her seat on the railed conveyance. "Besides, you knew it was going to be a rough ride. Why did you do it?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," replied Barbie.

The transfigured pony unsteadily rose to her feet and turned to face the car. The small human-like creature who had guided the vehicle leered obscenely at her, showing an alarming number of pointed teeth. Weakly, Barbie returned the smile. "So, what are you doing after work?" The goblin's smile vanished in a heartbeat.


In a show of tribal unity, an earth pony mare and a unicorn mare trotted up the road to the schoolhouse while a grey pegasus colt nervously hovered above them. When the building came into view, so did their objective. The giant three-headed dog was sitting in front of the door, wagging its tail as it held a stick in its center mouth.

Rarity called out, "Fluffy! Here, boy!"

The ground trembled as the pet dashed over to greet her. His center head bowed down and gently dropped a slobber-covered stick at her forehooves.

With ill-concealed rupophobia, Rarity picked up the stick with her telekinesis. "Here you go. Fetch!"

Fluffy watched the stick sail toward Sweet Apple Acres, waiting for it to fall before racing after it."

At a leisurely pace, Rarity followed the dog. She stopped when Fluffy returned and dropped the stick at her forehooves. Mayor Mare asked skeptically, "So, you'll be able to take it back home?"

“Yes,” Rarity said. “I’ll just walk him back home. I am sure Applejack will be upset over the panic he has caused.”

“Thank you for helping,” Mayor Mare said. “I’ll just go over and reassure Cheerilee and the children.”

“Ta ta,” Rarity said, flinging the stick once more.

Muttering to herself, the mayor made her way into the schoolhouse to find the entire class huddled in a corner while Cheerilee stood close to a window looking at her expectantly. “Don’t worry,” the mayor said. “Fluffy is being taken home.”

“Fluffy!?” the accumulated equines in the room cried in shrill disbelief.

“Yeah," Rumble said, coming up from behind the mayor. “That’s the name Apple Bloom gave to her new pet.”

There was a pregnant pause before a filly in the pile asked, “Mayor Mare, can you make a law so that the Crusaders aren’t allowed to hang out with Fluttershy anymore?”

“Yeah,” added a colt. “Sweetie Belle has a pet unicorn, and now Apple Bloom has Fluffy. I don’t want to find out what kind of monster Scootaloo thinks is cool.”

A wave of agreement emanated from the pile of foals.

“By the way,” a filly said, “you owe me ten bits Dust Stomper; that was totally on the Crusaders' tally.”


In reasonably short order, normalcy had returned to Gringotts. This time, the patrons took pains to ignore the witches with colorful hair and elegantly casual clothing that was far more fashionable than anything that could be produced in Diagon Alley.

“Good morning, sir,” Twilight said to the teller when her turn came. “I would like to withdraw some money please.”

The teller, who Emma had identified as a goblin, looked at her with palpable surprise. “Of course. Do you have your vault key?”

“Yes!” Twilight said, fishing the requested object out of a pocket. “Here.”

The goblin took the key from Twilight’s hand and examined it. “This is a main vault key for one of our top depositors. How did you acquire it?” The last was said with a snarl.

Slightly taken aback, Twilight said. “Applejack lent it to me this morning when we went over to collect Lodestone.”

“You expect me to believe that the owner of this vault ‘lent’ it to you, no questions asked?”

“Well, yes. I did promise to reimburse her.”

“I would be a fool to let just any witch who walks in off the street have unlimited access to this vault.” The teller's snarl did not vanish and he glanced down to check something hidden from her view. “It just so happens that the wizard in charge of this account is currently in the bank talking to his account manager. You can take it up with him.”

“Arthur Weasley is here?” Twilight said, relief flooding her features. “Yes, please, I’d love to talk to him.”

The teller fixed her with a glare that did not soften. He motioned and another goblin ran up. Handing the key to the new goblin, he said. “Take this witch to see Tricksno. Make sure she doesn’t stray.”

Twilight glanced at the runner then back at the teller. “Thank you for the extra caution, it is appreciated.”

The teller grunted. “That remains to be seen.” Then, he barked out, “Next!”


Monday morning breakfast quietly ended in the Great Hall. As usual, the Gryffindor first-years found themselves at the center of attention. Philomena had taken advantage of the situation to help herself to a few extra rashers of bacon. Shyly, the first-year witches from the other houses had taken advantage of the situation in a different manner, filing past the resident unicorn and petting her on the way out.

“She’s asleep on her feet,” Neville said as he wiped his mouth on his napkin. Magah had forgone breakfast and was softly snoring where she stood behind Sweetie Belle.

“No surprise there,” Terisa said. “How do you get a unicorn drunk in the first place?”

“Give her lots of alcohol?” Scootaloo offered helpfully.

“I meant, how do you get her to drink alcohol in the first place?”

“Offer her mixed drinks?” Sweetie Belle suggested. “Rarity says some of the most potent things she had ever drunk had hidden kicks.”

Terisa looked first at Sweetie then back at Magah. “Put her necklace on, and I’ll take her back to the dorms to sleep it off. I have a free period.”

“Thanks, Terisa,” Sweetie said as she produced a familiar necklace. In quick order, it was placed over the sleeping unicorn’s neck. It was at this point that the reason that humans do not sleep standing up made itself known.

*Thump!*

“Bakon?”


Anyone who worked in business had their equivalent of Monday morning. Tricksno irritably reminded himself of that fact as he attempted to explain a particularly complicated transaction to his primary client. The knock on his door derailed his train of thought. Everyone in the bank knew how important this meeting was; this must be something critical. Gruffly, he said, "Come in."

The door opened, and three human women filed in, followed by a runner. The runner closed the door behind himself before hurrying over to Triksno offering a key and a whisper.

“Hello, Arthur Weasley,” the purple-haired woman said cheerfully with a wave.

“Miss Sparkle?” Arthur said, recognizing the voice and the distinct hair. He stood up and offered his hand. “I hadn’t expected you to show up this morning.”

The mint green haired woman rushed forward and enthusiastically clasped Arthur’s hand with both her own. “Good morning, Arthur Weasley.”

Arthur quickly searched his memory for a name from the long list of ponies he had recently met. “Miss Bon Bon? What a pleasant surprise. And Mrs. Granger as well. Good morning.”

“It’s Lyra actually,” Lyra said, unconcerned. “Bon Bon is my partner.”

“You know these witches?” Tricksno said. “They were attempting to withdraw money from your main vault. Again, defeating the purpose of spending accounts, I might add.”

“We don’t mean to cause any problems,” Twilight said. “But we didn’t want to interrupt the girls at school to get one of their keys. Applejack lent me her key instead.”

Tricksno looked at the key in his hand before nudging it across his desk in Arthur’s direction. “Did you want discretionary vaults for these women and ‘Applejack’ as well?”

“Most likely,” Arthur said as Lyra continued to study his hand, which she had yet to release. “Though I will need to speak with Mrs. Belle and Mrs. Applejack first. No offense, Miss Sparkle.”

“None taken.” Twilight smiled. “I completely understand.”

“Then just for Mrs. Belle and Mrs. Applejack?” The goblin prodded.

“And Rainbow Dash.” Twilight said.

The goblin ignored her and focused his gaze on Arthur, who nodded.

“In the meantime,” Arthur said, fishing in his own pocket, “use my key for any purchases you might make today.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said, accepting the key from Arthur. “I will reimburse you.”

“There is no need.” Arthur shook his head. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I’ll complete my meeting with Tricksno and will be glad to escort you around.”

“Do you know where Sirius Black’s house is?” Twilight asked hopefully.

“I believe I know how to contact him.”

“I’m going to take them over to get some wands,” Mrs. Granger spoke up. “We’ll be doing that while you finish up your meeting, and we are sorry to interrupt.”

“I’ll find you in the alley when I’m done here, then.” Arthur grinned.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Twilight echoed, concentrating on Tricksno. “And thank you for the security and professionalism you have extended toward the girls' account.”

Tricksno grunted and motioned toward the runner. “Show these witches to the front door.”


After the excitement from her unexpected Sunday customers, Madam Malkin was expecting the rest of her week to devolve into the muddled miasma of slack times. Her ears perked at the unfamiliar sound of seven-part harmony. The lyrics promised excitement and adventure, with rich rewards for hard work.

With a jangle, the bell above her door announced a Hogwarts faculty member and her painfully pink pupils. With a gradual diminuendo, their song ended. Madam Malkin could practically feel the galleons in her purse. Seven adult-sized wardrobes would mean a pretty profit; who cares if they sported candy-colored hair?

Madam Hooch could swear she could see the galleon signs in the seamstress's eyes when Madam Malkin said, “Welcome to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.”

Eagerly, Barbie said, "I like!"

Puzzled by her friend's enthusiasm, Graceful Charm said, "I thought you said that school uniforms were boring."

With a practiced whip of her mane, Barbie replied, "Yeah, but I make them look good."


The air was electric with anticipation as Emma led Twilight and Lyra to Ollivander's. The bell above the door gave a delicate tinkle as Emma walked in to the familiar sight of shelf after shelf of small rectangular boxes. She said, "Just to let you know, the proprietor likes to sneak up on you."

"You're giving away all of my secrets," Ollivander said as he stepped out of the shadows. To his disappointment, the newcomers had separated, ready for action, and had been staring in his direction before he had emerged.

Blushing, Emma replied, "I'm sorry."

“Ah, Equestrians here for their first wands,” Ollivander said, running his gaze over the two women with chromatic hair. “And Mrs. Granger, you were here earlier this year for your daughter’s first wand as well.”

“Yes, sir,” Emma said. “I would like to try a wand as well.”

“You seek a wand?” he asked, returning his gaze to her. As he scrutinized her, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh my! How very very curious. Yes, very curious indeed. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered this situation before. I dare say that you are the very embodiment of change. How ever did you accomplish this?”

“Healthy eating,” Emma responded.

“I see.” Ollivander brought out his trademark measuring tape. “Very well, which is your wand hand?”

“Actually, I’m a descendant of Lucinda Kirkland, nee Lestrange.” Emma decided she should offer some explanation as she indicated her right hand.

“Did you find something questionable in the Lestrange family vaults?” Ollivander asked, taking measurements. “That would account for your altered status.”

“Why would I have access to their vaults?” Emma asked.

“Since the only other remaining family members are incarcerated, I would have assumed that you secured ownership.”

“I was not aware that they were in prison.” Emma mused, biting her lower lip.

“Try swishing this,” Ollivander said as he handed her a wand, “twelve-inch ash with unicorn hair.”

As Emma swished a wand for the very first time, Garrick Ollivander made history. He became the first in his family to appreciate the wisdom of emergency pants.


In the non-restricted greenhouse, the Gryffindor first-years were busy getting their hands, and other body parts, dirty.

“Ah’m starting to hate pussy willow,” Apple Bloom grumbled as she attempted to return an overly-affectionate plant to its pot.

“It’s not so bad,” Harry said, manhandling his own plant. “You just need to remember to stay five feet away from them all times. They seem to like you.”

“And Neville,” Luna noted. “Shouldn’t we help him, Susan, and Lavender?”

“Mind the spitting tulips.” Ginny warned as she attempted to work her robe free from the floor.

“I hope the professor gets here soon.” Seamus complained, walking uncomfortably. "You don't want to know where that bouncing bulb's been.


Amid the more normal destruction, Ollivander noticed one of the women wasn’t paying attention to the wand selection as Emma made her seventh attempt a success.

Ollivander was surprised to find that one of the women had lost interest in Emma's struggles. He gave a hint of a frown. Discovering the right wand was an experience to be shared between friends and family. “Eleven inches, fir with the heartstring of a Swedish short-snout,” Ollivander said before turning to the preoccupied young woman. “You seem distracted.”

“Something is calling to me from the back room,” the purple-haired woman said, moving slowly in the direction she indicated.

“Then by all means,” Ollivander said, providing the only encouragement the woman needed. She hurried into his studio and immediately crossed over to his workbench. With unerring hands, she reached for his newest creation, one of several commissioned recently and the only one complete. It leapt across the room, into her hand, like a dog welcoming a long-absent friend.

“This feels like Princess Celestia,” she cooed in awe.

Highly conscious that the woman somehow recognized the source his patron had mentioned, Ollivander said, “I am very sorry, but that wand is not for sale. It is a commissioned piece with a core made from materials I do not own.”

“This is my wand,” the woman said as she studied the focus with glistening eyes. “I can feel that it is my wand.”

“I am sorry,” Ollivander said again. “That wand belongs to Miss Scoot Aloo.”

“Scootaloo has a wand already,” the woman said, not taking her eyes off the object in her hands. “She showed it to me yesterday.”

“Be that as it may,” Ollivander insisted, “this too belongs to her. I’m afraid I cannot sell it to you.” Then, with a more encouraging tone, he continued, “However, she may be willing to part with it if you approach her. That wand is made from elder, a most fitting material for such a powerful core. I suspect that it will not respond well, if at all, for anyone but you.”

“So, I just need to have Scootaloo tell you to sell it to me first?” the woman asked.

“The wand belongs to Miss Aloo, she can sell or give it to you at her own discretion.”

“I’m sure she won’t have a problem with it,” the woman said as the two other women looked over Ollivander’s shoulders at the scene. “Just let me take it with me, and I’ll talk to her about it.”

“You seem confident that she will relinquish that wand.” Ollivander was getting worried; he didn’t want the young girl put in danger by a potentially volatile strange woman.

“Her adoptive mother to be is one of my five closest friends,” the woman replied. “This is not going to be a problem.”

“Very well,” Ollivander said, not wanting to upset the woman who was bonding so strongly with a notably powerful wand. So much so, that it was starting to hum in her hands, thereby finalizing the bond. “If you swear on your magic not to harm Miss Aloo or any others directly or indirectly based on your intent to own that wand, I shall let you leave here with it today.”

“What?” The woman tore her gaze away from the wand to stare at Ollivander in horror. “I would never harm anypony except in defense of others or myself, and then I would try to subdue first if at all possible.”

As she spoke the last word, a double helix of rainbow light wrapped around her. The tail of each helix raced up to its head. The magic compressed into a point before exploding onto the ceiling in the form a pink six-pointed star covering all but the points of a smaller white six-pointed star. Five small white six-pointed stars surrounded the large pink star.

Ollivander stared into her eyes looking for deception. “I believe you.” He finally said. There really was no choice anymore. As the wand’s maker he could tell that it would not lightly suffer being separated from the woman who held it.

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