• 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 82: Two and a Half Dates

The anchorman smiled brightly at the camera and said, "Up next, we have breaking news from our 0921 SAW PONY hotline." The background displayed two photos, one sharp, in full color, and the other grainy, in black and white. "At this time, we still only have images of two individuals in their natural forms. Our favorite anonymous pink pegasus pony has had his picture sent in by multiple viewers. Confirmation of the other pony, along with her ability to change her form, come courtesy of tipsters Geoff and Steve. This purple pony has been identified as Twilight Sparkle, aide to the pony ambassador."

His partner, a vivacious blonde, tittered lightly before saying, "Our colour experts say that the proper names for their coat colors are fuchsia and periwinkle. We have multiple reports that Twilight Sparkle is part of a party of eight at Le Sourire Escargot. While we have no information on the identities of the diners, the five who were waiting for her are assumed to be witches and wizards."

Incredulously, the anchorman read, "She arrived with two companions in an owl's pouch." Looking to one side, he said, "Can we confirm this? Are we talking about some sort of blimp, or did someone get the stories mixed up?" He touched his ear and nodded. Looking back at the camera, he said, "We have confirmation that they were in a pouch carried by a normal-sized crested owl. Apparently, magic was employed."

"The striking hair color of her companions suggests that they, too, are ponies in human form." The blonde continued. "Expert opinion is that the pink-haired one is a pegasus; she had been observed hanging in mid-air with no visible means of support. The other companion is more of a mystery; she has at least six distinct colour bands in her hair."

A grainy photo appeared in the background. The anchorman continued, "This photo was faxed in to our hotline. You can see that Twilight Sparkle and her two companions are all dressed to the nines."

"The little one looks so cute in that dress," commented the blonde. "She may have gone overboard with the lace, though."

The anchorman said, "She's the epitome of femininity. Even I know it takes hours to make one's hair look that wind-swept and natural."

"That outfit is so elegant," added his partner. "I'll bet she's the very definition of refined. Now, we can only hope there will be more information soon. We have a news team en route. Perhaps they will be willing to give an interview after their meal."


Twilight glared at Sirius and growled. "I can't believe you introduced Pinkie to flaming desserts."

"The omelette à la norvégienne is their signature dish," Sirius shot back.

"Aquamenti!" Remus cried out. Both Andi and Ted lent their wands to the fight.

"The tablecloth!" Rainbow pointed. "Don't forget the tablecloth!"

Twilight glared at Sirius as the flames grew higher. "Fire and heartsongs do not belong together."

Pinkie Pie popped up. "We got this. Hit it, boys!" Wielding carbon dioxide fire extinguishers, she and a quartet of waiters surrounded the table and danced in a circle. Magic filled the air as the head waiter led the chorus as they kept time with puffs from their fire extinguishers.


Lord Greengrass had his family standing beside him as he made a point of personally receiving his guests in the foyer of their mansion. While it was a formal thank you for an unsolicited act of generosity, he had directed his wife and daughters to wear their very best. He wanted to make a good impression on their influential company. In hindsight, he was ecstatic that he had made that decision. Mrs. Belle and her daughter had arrived wearing splendid gowns of undeniable quality and sporting neck pieces dripping with sapphires. Either piece was worth a small fortune; together, they spoke of daunting wealth.

This ostentatious display paled before the sheer power they were casually exhibiting. The younger female had her phoenix on her shoulder, a clear reminder of the seat she held on the Wizengamot as well as confirmation of the magical prowess she commanded. This only highlighted the reality that the elder had triumphed over Albus Dumbledore himself. They promised to be powerful allies if properly cultivated.

"Ladies," Lord Greengrass said diplomatically. "Welcome to our home. It is our desire that this will be the inception of a staunch relationship between all of us."

Mrs. Belle blushed prettily as she replied, "Lord Greengrass, you are so forward. This is only our first rendezvous. Compatibility must be explored first."

Lord Greengrass came forward and lifted Mrs. Belle's outstretched hand for a formal kiss on her knuckles. "I am confident that we can work towards that objective. Please allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Greengrass. I do hope the two of you become close. You are, of course, familiar with my eldest, Daphne. Next to her is my youngest, Astoria." The girls curtseyed as they were introduced.

"Yes," Mrs. Belle said firmly. "I look forward to my time with you and your wife, but it is imperative that the children get along as well."

"I agree," Lord Greengrass said. "We do have some time before supper is ready. Won't you join my wife and myself in the sitting room? The children can be left to their own devices for the time being."

As he led the women from the room, Lord Greengrass failed to hear the younger Belle comment to his daughter. "You know, Daphne, I don't think your father and Rarity are reading from the same notes."


The wizarding world's primary paradigm had shifted without a clutch, and Amelia's department had spent the past couple of days picking up the pieces. The change currently commanding her attention was one that had been reported to her months ago, but only now could she fully process it. A pink pony foal lay sprawled across her lap, savoring the sensation of the curry comb that Amelia ran down her back. Intellectually, Amelia knew it was less than proper to treat her niece Susan in such a manner; the girl was well past the age for such shows of affection. At the same time, the woman could not deny how right it felt; the serenity projected by the two of them snuggling in a chair in front of the fireplace was picture perfect.

Amelia sighed. As much as she appreciated having time to bond with her niece, she felt that she should be out leading the damage control effort. Her office staff, however, disagreed. Scrimgeour had orchestrated a mutiny. At his direction, the entire department had refused to do any more work that evening unless Amelia got at least a day's real rest. They had been dismayed to learn that she had been working for forty-eight hours straight due to the outpouring of chaos. They had told Amelia in no uncertain terms that she was risking the health of her baby, and that they could manage without her constant oversight. Their concern would have been endearing if it hadn't denied her the only action she had seen in months.

Hope flared as, without warning, the flames in the fireplace turned green and Scrimgeour's voice asked, "Boss, may I please come through?"

With well-hidden anticipation, Amelia tightened her lips and replied, "Yes, Rufus."

When the wizard stepped out of the fire, he held out a sheet of parchment and said. "I'm sorry to intrude on your quiet time, but I need your signature."

"There are precious few things that you can't sign for yourself," Amelia noted, still brushing Susan who was looking at Scrimgeour curiously.

"The blasted Unspeakables won't release their new prototype portkey reader without a direct order from you," Scrimgeour said. "That new program of distributing evacuation portkeys tied to a room in St. Mungo's just proved its worth. Now we need to track where the victims came from."

"Victims?" Amelia thought of the new program in question. The new Minister had ordered the creation of thousands of glass portkeys, each the size and shape of a robin's egg. They were left in well-traveled places, like the Leaky Cauldron and the foyer of St. Mungo's, with instructions for all interested to take a few for themselves, friends, and family. The portkeys were just one of the precautions he was taking.

"Four young muggle girls were portkeyed into the receiving room," Scrimgeour said. "They were poorly used, suffering from systematic mental, physical, and sexual abuse. They claim that their 'owners' had brought in a new girl who gave them the portkeys as soon as the five of them were alone. The new girl wasn't one of the children who escaped. For all we know, she's facing those monsters all by herself. I need that reader to tell me where they came from; a rescue team is already assembled. Someone on the other end is in dire need of a Crucio."

"That spell will land you in Azkaban," Amelia reminded him, signing the parchment.

"That doesn't change the fact that they would deserve it."


Having never before witnessed a transformation from human-born to pony, Applejack and Zecora had been pleasantly surprised to find that Severus had thoroughly exposed himself to pony sensibilities. However, that had also left him underdressed for an evening on the town as his brand-new dress robes vanished into dimensional space, waiting for his return to human form. The concierge had hustled him off when Applejack and Zecora had explained their situation.

Fifteen minutes later, a gentle tapping ended the mares' anxious waiting. Zecora opened the door, revealing Severus in a black tailcoat with his wings protruding through slits in the back. A white waistcoat, white wing collared dress shirt, and white bow tie completed his ensemble.

Applejack whistled appreciatively as soon as the newly-minted stallion reentered the suite, while Zecora simply stared before saying, "Please excuse me for standing here acting dumb. But all I can think and feel is 'oh so yum'."

"I find I'm at a loss for words," Severus said. "I am, however, glad you approve."

"Here now, thar is no need fer y'all to be all modest like." Applejack said, sidling up to stand next to Severus. "Y'all make one fine specimen fer a pony."

Zecora joined her by standing on the other side of the stallion. "We wish to make everything clear. Our plan is to hold you most dear."

Severus blushed and instinctively extended his wings to drape them over the two mares. "I believe this is the start of the perfect evening."

Applejack brought a forehoof to her mouth to cover a blush while Zecora said. "Though my heart floats, flutters and sings. I must inform you of your wings. It is my wish only to snuggle and succumb. The way you hold us promises of things to come."

"Y'all are rhyming yer puns again," Applejack said through her hoof.

"No such thing did I so utter. Get your mind out of the gutter." It was Zecora's turn to blush.

"Whatever y'all say," Applejack said knowingly. "We'd best get a move on; we have reservations."

"You are a good and respectable mare." Zecora complained. "But you've been told time and again, 'that's not fair'."

Applejack chuckled.


It was with trepidation that Hermione had answered her door. The accumulated snow from the storm was more than enough to discourage casual callers. She was pleasantly surprised to find the next-door neighbor waiting, holding a freshly-baked kugelhopf on a dinner plate. The despondent expression upon the elderly woman's face was at odds with such a festive dish.

"Mrs. Holmes," Hermione said, stepping backwards. "Please come in out of the cold."

"Thank you; you are such a little dear." Mrs. Holmes accepted the invitation before declaring, "I need to apologize to your parents."

"Apologize?" Hermione scrunched her nose. "Whatever for?"

"The unicorns," Mrs. Holmes said dejectedly. "It would seem I stuck my nose somewhere it shouldn't be."

"Unicorns?" Hermione said. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Mrs. Holmes gave a patronizing smile. "I know that you ponies are reclusive, dear. Still, would you humor an old busybody and let her apologize?"

Hermione asked, "Would you believe this was all just some giant misunderstanding?"

"Oh, hello there." Hector's voice came from a lot closer to the ground than Hermione had expected, and she suddenly regretted lending him her ring.

"I hope you're standing on two feet," Hermione said without turning around.

"Are you kidding? I'd kill myself going up the stairs on just my hind legs," Hector's voice said as it disappeared upwards, accompanied by the sound of hooves on the wooden staircase.

Mrs. Holmes looked pointedly at Hermione, raised an eyebrow and said. "Those hoofbeats might not have been thundering, but I'm pretty sure they weren't a misunderstanding."

"How about some random swamp gas?" Hermione tried weakly.

"Is that kugelhopf I smell?" came Aunt Grace's voice, much too close to the floor for comfort. Hermione watched in dismay as a teal light surrounded the cake and lifted it a millimeter before winking out.

"Hello there; I'm Miriam Holmes," Mrs. Holmes said. "I don't think we've met."

"Hello, my name is Grace. I'm Dan's sister."

"You have a lovely coat." Mrs. Holmes said with honest admiration.

"Thank you," Grace's voice said. "Emma brushed me not too long ago, that's why it's so shiny right now. She'd be the one here now if she weren't asleep in Dan's lap. Getting one's coat brushed is very therapeutic."

"I can only imagine." Mrs. Holmes smiled


The twinkling streetlamps that lined the toney Canterlot boulevard illuminated the clusters of mares in evening dress. What stallions could be found were dressed in white tie attire and jealously guarded by their mares. For the most part, they walked snootily with muzzles raised, gossiping about their social rivals.

One group, however, seemed to be wearing their clothing as a poor disguise. They might have been dressed like the others, but their postures were those of ponies who were no strangers to hard work. Their conversation criticized the bastions of the aristocracy.

"That grub jus' ain't gonna cut it," Applejack complained as she walked down the street with Severus sandwiched between Zecora and herself. "That's the last time Ah let Rarity handle the reservations."

Zecora agreed. "The meal was quite small and bland. I've had better-tasting sand."

"I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear you two say that," Severus said. "I was beginning to worry that I wasn't adapting to this body properly."

"Well, we're supposed to be showing y'all a good time." Applejack said. "Having a near empty stomach don't help that none. Ah think it's time to introduce you to Donut Joe's and his mighty fine wares."

An ear-piercing shriek from above caught everypony's attention. Looking up, the trio saw a massive bat silhouetted against the full moon. Aggressively, Snape mantled his wings while Applejack and Zecora shifted to defensive stances.

The shadow resolved itself into a mass of purple fur with leather wings. When it landed in front of the trio, it was clear they had been stopped by a thestral mare. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. Glaring at Snape, she snarled, "You race traitor! What are you doing with them?"

Zecora blinked before answering. "Nothing we've done should make ponies irate. We are merely on an evening date."

"With one of our stallions?" the mare asked frostily. "Our gene pool is so shallow it wouldn't get your hooves wet, and you have the gall to make moves on one of our stallions!"

The trio blinked at the mare, absorbing her words. "Hey now, don't get yer tail in a twist," Applejack finally answered. "Professor Snape here ain't no thestral; he's a human."

"I don't know what a hooman is." The mare seethed. "But I know a virile thestral stallion when I smell one." The ponies sharing the street, crowded around, enthralled by the unfolding drama.

"We are sorry for the confusion, but it is only an illusion," Zecora said.

"Indeed, this is what I really look like." Severus took Zecora's hint and returned to his human form. Several in the crowd shrieked in fear as ponies backed away from the mythological being.

The thestral mare narrowed her eyes skeptically. "That wasn't an illusion; you changed forms. I still smell you there. Are you a changeling or did you turn into a viable stallion?"

Applejack snorted. "Shows how much you know. When changelings transform, they are surrounded by a circle of flames; the color tells you which hive they're from."

"How could any pony know that?" an onlooker snapped. When the crowd all turned to look at her, she continued sheepishly. "I mean everypony knows that changelings are just legends. Not real or anything. Where do you get off making up stuff?"

"So, you become a real stallion?" The thestral mare pressed on, ignoring the interruption.

"I do not know. You'd have to ask Mr. Discord on just how real," Severus answered. "It is his magic that allows for the change."

"Discord?" The thestral's ears perked forward. "Then you're not related to any coven?"

"Not even remotely," Severus assured her.

The mare narrowed her eyes again. With a wingtip, she pointed at her eyes and then at Snape. With a powerful flap of her wings, she took to the air, rocketing toward the moon.

Tracking the retreating silhouette, Zecora said. "While she wasn't much of a skilled debater. I fear this will haunt us sooner than later."


The spot booth in the back of the massive West End theatre was abuzz with excitement. In addition to the operator, the small room was crammed with a television news crew. Ordinarily, video recording was strictly prohibited, but the reporters had managed to persuade the owners that history was in the making, and that having irrefutable proof would give the establishment a distinction that no amount of money could buy. No one could have predicted how right they were.

The musical had already received both critical and popular acclaim. Throughout the city, people could be heard humming or whistling bits of the score. There had even been a rumor that a soundtrack album would be released in the coming days. What had happened was unexpected, unforeseeable, unprecedented. The smiles on the owners' faces were a poor representation of the magnitude of what had occurred.

In the news van parked in the alley, the editor replayed the scene for the tenth time. She still could not believe what she had seen. She still could not believe what had happened. The pink-haired woman, no doubt a pony in human form, had been sitting in a loge, dressed in evening wear. Like the rest of the audience, she had clearly been enraptured by the performance. Somehow, at a slower part in a scene, she had vanished from her seat, instantaneously appearing on stage in full costume. She had then launched into an upbeat ballad. The entire cast had joined in, performing an extemporaneous dance that was as polished as if they had been rehearsing for months. The stage hands had appeared from the wings, adding background vocals, and the entire orchestra section had joined in the chorus. Shaking her head in disbelief, the editor had no doubt that this routine would be the standard against which all musicals would now be measured.

Inside the theatre, the news crew had witnessed the aftermath. As the magic of the moment had wound down, the woman had somehow reappeared in her seat as though nothing had happened. Their directional microphone had let them listen in on the ensuring conversation.

"That does it, Pinkie," Twilight Sparkle had said as her friend sat down. "I'm cutting you off at three heartsongs for the night."

"You're one to talk," the girl identified as Rainbow Dash had commented.

"Which is exactly why I know it's time to cut her off."


The best thing about the holidays was family. This was no less true for the Thomas clan. Their house was a little fuller with the arrival of Mr. Thomas's parents. The grandparents had been determined to put on a brave face. They knew the hardship that their son endured. While they could not offer financial support, they could share their love.

As they sat down to the evening meal, Grandma Thomas said. "Roast goose? Mince pie? I hope you didn't break your budget just to impress us, dear. I know that times have been rough."

"We've had an unsuspected windfall when it comes to groceries," Mrs. Thomas said. "I think we will be back to our normal standards sooner rather than later."

"That is good to hear." Grandpa Thomas smiled.

"The pies were my idea." Rosie beamed brightly.

"They look delicious." Grandma Thomas beamed back. "So, dear, when were you planning on telling us that Dean is attending that school for magic?"

Mr. Thomas blinked in surprise. "How'd you figure that out, Mum?"

"Come now, you don't think I wouldn't recognize my own grandson's voice? Your father and I were in the crowd trying to see the magic pub."

"Whatever do you mean?" Mrs. Thomas asked, cutting into the bird.

Grandma Thomas smirked and directed her attention at the lone male child at the table. "Dean, dear?"

"Yes Grandma?"

"Pink."

"Fuchsia!"

Grandma Thomas turned a knowing gaze back on her daughter-in-law. "Some families were talking about him as they exited the pub."

"Besides." Grandpa Thomas said pointedly. "The hoofprints on the ceiling are a dead giveaway once you realize what they are."

Mrs. Thomas looked up before growling, "Rosie."

"Sorry Mum."


Lounging on the floor of the quaint cottage, Barnaby had long ago lost count of how many muscles there were in his new body. All he knew for sure was that they were all sore. Although he realized that it was just hair, he could swear that even his mane hurt. He could barely muster enough energy to move, and without access to a pepper-up potion, he would have to recover his strength the old-fashioned way. Still, the smile fixed on his face showed that he had no complaints as to how he had come to be in such a state; as far as he was concerned, it had been energy well-spent.

The newly-minted stallion was thankful that his current task did not require much in the way of movement, and it was a cornerstone of his new goals. Since things had not turned out the way he had anticipated, he had to do his best to keep from being swept away by the winds of change.

"Can you feel it?" Barnaby asked.

"Yes," said the foal curled up in front of him

"Okay, then, go ahead," Barnaby coaxed.

"Lumos." A glow came from the tip of her horn. A proper casting would have yielded a ball of light, but this was progress; this was the first step to prove that she was no muggle.

"Good job." Cheerilee clapped her hands from where she sat on the couch, observing. She had acquired rings for her herd a couple days ago, and Barnaby was appreciative of the results, especially considering that his herdmates preferred pony-style casual wear.

Yes, things were not going according to his original plans, but he could adapt. He could thrive.


Shacklebolt could attest that gracefully exiting a portkey teleport required a lot of practice. The experience was both unpleasant and disorienting, much like being whipped around and dragged through a keyhole by one's navel. To a man, his muggle escort lay in front of him in various states of distress, with two of the three presenting the contents of their stomachs for review. The aurors looked on sympathetically, thankful that their first experience with such transport had been under controlled conditions.

The muggles had been a last-minute addition. The DMLE had informed their muggle counterparts of the operation as a courtesy, and they had insisted on being represented. After all, the threat was not magical, and their officers were trained to handle whatever the muggle world could throw at them.

The aurors scanned their surroundings for threats while their erstwhile escorts took a moment to compose themselves. A dim, naked bulb provided scant illumination to what would have been politely called squalor. A narrow, barred window at ceiling height indicated that they were in a basement room. A pile of used paper plates rustled in the corner as some vermin gleaned scant nourishment from the oil-soaked fibers. A stained, bare, king-sized mattress lay on the floor; springs poked through the threadbare cover at odd angles. In the corner was an open bucket; its stench left no doubt as to its purpose.

"Clear!" barked Shacklebolt. Without a word of complaint, the muggles found their feet. Heavily armed and armored, one took station in front of the door, kneeling, while the others flanked the portal. The scowls on their faces matched that on the aurors' as they took in their surroundings. The heavy, steel-reinforced door was a mere memory the moment the group was ready to proceed. An Alohomora spell would have opened the door, but it was far from sufficient for their sheer outrage.

Raguel would have been proud as the team streamed out of the room like avenging angels. Muggles took the point position, daring all comers to show themselves. Discs of light centered around angry red dots showed where they were focused. The aurors performed their scans behind the screen of armor, ready to send whomever was responsible for this outrage to kingdom come. Room by room, they cleared the basement before ascending the stairs into the house proper. To their disappointment, no one came to accept their challenge.

"No one's here," one of the auror team informed Shacklebolt. "Homenum Revelio comes up negative."

"We need to find the last girl," Shacklebolt snapped. "Take Murry and sweep the grounds."

"Yes sir." The auror and his partner took shrunken brooms out of their robes and rapidly departed.

"What have we found?" one of the muggle officers asked.

"It looks like something large was thrown at the fridge," another answered, coming from the kitchen. "There's a large dent in its door and the contents are spilled everywhere."

"There is a strange green slime in several spots in the family room," said an auror. "It looks fresh. I don't think they have that large of a lead; muggles can't apparate."

"I've called the local dispatch on the house phone. Backup will be here in ten," said another muggle.

"I want them found before . . ." Whatever Shacklebolt was going to say was interrupted as he stumbled. Looking down, he saw several large rocks that were gray with flecks of white and black. Huffily, he conceded that some things needed to be taken for granite.


The walk to Donut Joe's had been interrupted by something that no earth pony would have conceived: a bistro with outdoor seating in the chill of winter. The lamps set at regular intervals served triple duty. They cast a romantic, flickering yellow-orange glow. They kept the seating area at a comfortable temperature. The third function was what had drawn in the trio; the lamps diffused the savory aromas from the kitchen throughout the neighborhood. Once the three had matched the aromas with the sight of their dishes, their decision had been unanimous; this would be where they would sup.

"This is more like it," Applejack said, digging into the house special, ratatouille, sans rat.

"I agree," said Severus. "I'm positive that I'm finding flavors that don't exist for humans."

"The first establishment was a sad fail. With this meal, the evening may yet prevail." Zecora took a dainty bite from her meal.

"Ah think we may want to rethink tha rest of our plans," Applejack said. "Rarity may have been thinking of her own likes when she made her suggestions."

"I have no objections," Severus said. "I admit I would have asked my colleges for ideas if our roles had been reversed. I cannot say that I have much experience with members of the opposite gender."

"We may be trying much too hard to impress, resulting in unnecessary distress," Zecora said.

"Next time, I hope to show the two of you around magical Britain," Severus said.

"Y'all are willing to give us a second chance?" Applejack asked.

"The evening has not been unpleasant. Please remember I'm here for the company, not the entertainment."

"I was hoping with great anticipation and no shame, that company and entertainment are one and the same," Zecora commented.

"That's awful straightforward of you." Applejack blushed. "Yer going ta scare him away."

"Twilight said with humans you need not to wait; just say plainly how you wish to end the date," Zecora rebutted.

"Twilight's views can be rather bookish. She don't always know the best way ta deal with ponies," Applejack said.

"Though unconventional, I think we can all agree that new ground is being broken," Severus said. "I would have feared scaring you two off, had I broached the subject in such a manner. I'm positive this is not how it would have proceeded if I were on an outing with a human woman."

"Yer not offended?" Applejack asked, with more than a little hope in her voice.

"Why should I be offended that you find me attractive enough to consider such an option?"

"Twilight was correct with her decrees. I think I speak for us all. Check Please!" Zecora said the last two words loud enough for the waitress to hear.

"Ah don't think we'll be getting ta the dancing tonight." Applejack pondered. "Nor dancing round certain issues, either."

Suddenly, her vision was cut off, and she was knocked out of her seat by two pairs of hooves. Applejack ignored the muffled exclamation from Zecora and the unmistakable sounds of their table being overturned as her adventure-honed reflexes responded. She twisted her body on the way down, landing on her forehooves. Pushing off the ground, she blindly aimed a buck in the direction from which the attack had come. Hidden gussets and clever slits in her dress let her move as freely as if she were unclothed. Her hind hooves met with empty air while she tore the cloth bag from her head. "What the hay?" she exclaimed. Looking around, she saw Zecora sprawled on the sidewalk with a bag still draped over her head. There was no sign of Severus.

Applejack gaped in rage as she stared toward the sound of retreating wings.

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