• Published 23rd Apr 2017
  • 15,271 Views, 7,160 Comments

Magic School Days - Dogger807



When the CMC asked Discord to help them attend magic school, he pulled an owl out of his hat. Only he didn't exactly have a hat. Which was okay, since their new school had a singing one laying around. Where the hay was Hogwarts anyway?

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Chapter 87: Them's Fighting Herds

One place unknown to mere muggles was unique in that the best thing that could be said about it was also the most damning: Nothing there seemed to change. This was the graveyard of hope and happiness. Its bleak and foreboding walls had been rough-hewn from solid rock, making them look more like cliffs and scree than anything formed by mortal hands. The only features that even hinted at color were the sun-bleached panels of the wooden doors. Even without the dementors, Azkaban Prison qualified as cruel and unusual punishment.

In hushed whispers, rumors of a maximum security wing had spread throughout the wizarding world. In truth, all the prisoners were subjected to maximum security . . . and isolation . . . and the soul-draining caress of the dementors. A typical cell resembled a crevice buried by an avalanche.

In a typical cell, a filthy woman with long, stringy, ebony hair sat in the middle of the bare floor, talking to no one in particular between verses of what might be generously described as a song. What vestiges of sanity she may have had before being condemned to this place had long ago been ablated away by the toxic ambiance.

Measured footsteps announced a respite from the mind-numbing monotony. Four aurors in red robes escorted a grim-faced wizard in an ashen robe. The auror at the point slapped back the cover to the cell door's viewing port. He snapped, "Oi! Shut yer yap an' get over 'ere!"

The woman ignored him continuing her singing.

“Open it," the gray-robed wizard said. The auror at the point obliged. The other aurors followed him into the cell, and they surrounded the prisoner. Satisfied that they could apply any force necessary, the wizard entered and glared at the woman. "On your feet."

The woman stopped singing and looked up with a Cheshire grin. "Why, warden, what a pleasant surprise. Whatever could have made you leave your cozy office and visit li'l old me?"

"On your feet," repeated the warden gruffly.

"Ooh! A frisky one, aren't you?" purred the woman as she struggled to rise.

"Be quiet and stand there," ordered the warden as he plucked a pocket watch from under his robes and snapped open its cover.

“Seeing how long I can stand before I collapse?” the woman asked. “How delightfully sadistic. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I said be quiet,” the warden snarled.

“Or what? You’re going to beat me? Tie me up? Have your way with me?” The woman giggled. “Please do; I could use the break from the monotony.”

“Be silent, woman.” The warden did not look up from his watch.

“You’re no fun.” The woman pouted.

The warden did not deign to give her a reply.

“So, we’re just going to stand here and chat about the weather?” the woman asked. “It's always the same, dusty, with a chance of . . .” She stopped mid-sentence and tilted her head. “Oh,” she said softly. “Oh,” she said again, breaking out in a wide grin. “Oh!” she said a third time, clapping her hands together. “You’re here to let me out!”

The warden grimaced and shut his watch with a snap.

“Well, let’s not dawdle,” Bellatrix said, stumbling past the warden and through the doorway. “There’s a hot bath in my immediate future.”

Wordlessly, the warden and the aurors followed.


Anticipation hung heavy in the air of the sitting room in Grimmauld Place. An expansion charm cast in tandem with a mirroring charm was needed to accommodate all the occupants. Ted and Andromeda shared a love seat while Remus and Narcissa occupied its mirrored counterpart. Similarly, the adult Grangers sat on a couch, across from their children and the Longbottoms. In one wingback chair, Draco sat in the seat while Spike perched in on an arm. Mirrored across from them, Sirius was doing his best Father Christmas impression as Twilight sat in his lap.

Moody stomped from the floo, absently brushing ash off his shoulder. “Good, you’re all here,” he said as his artificial eye spun wildly in its socket.

“You did request our presence,” Andi said. “Considering you were ransacking the Lestrange vault earlier, and with you asking the Longbottoms to attend, it’s not hard to guess why.”

As Augusta Longbottom sat, she might as well have been carved from stone with a sour scowl plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry, Augusta,” Moody said. “One of the items we pulled was confirmed to be a sponsa decipula.”

Augusta swiftly stood, belying her advanced years. “No.”

“She responded,” Moody continued.

“I will not hear this,” Augusta interjected. “Neville, it is time for us to take our leave.”

“Yes Gran.” Neville followed the old woman to the floo.

Pausing with her hand halfway to the floo powder, Augusta said. “Dan, Emma I do not hold you responsible.”

After the flames returned to normal, Spike asked. “What’s a sponsa decipula?”

“It’s a bride’s cage,” Nissy said, anger dripping from her voice. “If it weren’t for the obvious fundamental changes, the Blacks would be declaring a blood feud on the Lestranges this very minute.”

Dan sighed, “How can we make amends?”

“Throwing Rodolphus and Rabastan out of your family is good enough in my books,” Sirius said. “Sitting in Azkaban with no family name must be driving them even more insane.”

“Her dowry will have to be returned,” Andi said. “Just as a matter of principle.”

“Of course,” Emma said. “We understand.”

“What’s a bride’s cage?” Spike asked.

Ted shuddered. “They are highly illegal artifacts. Their purpose is to subvert a woman’s will, granting her husband complete control.”

“Our sister?” Andi asked Moody.

“Is on her way to St. Mungo's as we speak.” Moody growled.

“So, another innocent Black was sent to prison?” Hermione asked with her hand raised as if in class.

“It isn’t that simple.” Andi sighed. “Bride cages are notorious. They override your will and do no small amount of controlling your outlook. We will never know how much of her crimes Bella did willingly or how much she was compelled. She could have been completely complicit or she could have been fighting the entire time. The only thing for certain is that her husband could have stopped her. She cannot be held accountable for her actions, any more than someone under the imperius could be.”

“So, they are letting someone out who could potentially be a psychotic killer?” Hermione said.

“They are also letting someone out who could potentially be an innocent victim.” Twilight countered. “That cannot be understated. We must do everything possible to be her friends. No matter how you look at it, she’s been through a horrific experience.”

“We are already more than that,” Nissy said. “We are her family.”

“Technically, she has been disinherited,” Ted noted.

“Sirius shall be reinstating her in light of this news.” Nissy didn’t miss a beat.

“Do I have to?” Sirius whined.

“Sirius.” Nissy snapped.

“But the paperwork!”

“Sirius.”

“I absolutely hate paperwork.”

“Sirius!”

“All right, all right, I guess I could make the time.” Sirius acquiesced. “It’s not like I have any real choice in the matter.”

“Um,” Spike said. “Shouldn’t you be contacting your lawyers to represent her?”

Sirius started so badly that he almost unseated Twilight. The fireball that blossomed in the middle of the room pushed him over the edge. In turn, he pushed Twilight over the edge. Her bum did not appreciate the rush.

“Hermione!” Sweetie exclaimed. “Hurry up! We're on!”

“You found him?” Hermione smiled, jumping from her seat. “Let’s go!”

There was another burst of flames and the two girls were gone.

“Well,” Remus said. “Is anyone else feeling a deep sense of foreboding?”


The anchorman smiled brightly at the camera and said. “Up next, we have breaking news from our 0921 SAW PONY hotline. Earlier, we have had several reported sightings of multitudes of young ponies wearing what has been described as chainmail.”

His partner tittered before saying. “We have a news crew on site, and we hope to have some live feed to share momentarily. Let’s go to our reporter on the scene, Heather Roseford.”

“Thank you, Mindy.” Heather said, as the display became a split screen. “As you can see, we are in Marlborough, where we have no less than a dozen collaborated sightings of a small herd of pony children, one of which is suspected to be the same pink pegasus spotted in London earlier this month. They appear to be playing some elaborate game, wearing matching suits of homemade armor and wielding a variety of toys. They seem to be hiding in this alley."

The camera panned across the crowded room to a matronly woman wearing an apron. "Mrs. Wycliffe, proprietress of the Boar's Trotters Pub has been kind enough to let us set up here where we can watch without disturbing the ponies."

Wycliffe said, "Today's special is pink pony punch. Hurry in while they're still here."


The raggedy man looked too old to be a punk rocker, but his appearance fit that description perfectly. He skulked about the bins behind the restaurant, furtively snatching edible bits. Silently, he cursed his lot. The goblins were keeping him on the run, but he still maintained a viable territory. He had taken full advantage of his ability to change forms to evade them. Had he been fully man or fully wolf, he would have been captured long ago. It had been a miserable existence, but he was still close enough to his objective to have a chance at success.

The wolf took hold, scenting the air. She was somewhere close; he could smell it. The bitch would be his even if it were the last thing he did. He had been tracking her scent for some time. Although her schedule was somewhat irregular, there were only a few places in the town that she would visit. Her paths were not a secure as she thought. For each one, he had planned the perfect ambush.

Stealthily, he peeked his head around the corner. She was there! He could take the back route and set his trap. This was perfect; no one would even know he was lying in wait.


The camera panned back to the alley. Heather said, "What do you suppose that dodgy-looking fellow is doing in there? He's hiding behind a bin."


Lavender Brown strolled down the streets of Marlborough with a long package wrapped in brown paper slung over her shoulder. As she approached an alleyway, a weak voice cried out, "Help me! Anyone! Please!"

Curious, the girl walked in to investigate. "Hang on! I'm coming!" As she approached the middle of the alleyway, she stopped, puzzled. "Where are you?" A shadow loomed over her. She spun around.


Heather said, "What's this? No, little girl! Don't go in there!"

The camera zoomed in. The dodgy man towered over the little girl. "Good lord! He's got her! Wait a minute. Those are the ponies creeping up behind him."


The tall, raggedy man said, "Do you want some candy, little girl?" Lavender slowly backed away. "There's no escape for you; this is a dead end."

Abruptly, the girl stopped. "Fenrir Greyback, under Section 24A of the PACE Act, I am placing you under arrest for the attempted murder of Darius Brown."

The man stopped for a moment in confusion before laughing. "You and what army?"

A chorus of young voices came from behind. "This one."

Greyback ignored the children behind him and sprang at Lavender. She dropped her package and crouched. He was about to grab her when her fist shot into the air with a boost from her legs. "Shoryuken!"

His chin snapped back at the impact. Shaking it off, he looked up just in time to see a gray form diving down at him. The form pulled up, sending a missile hurtling toward him. Twisting his torso, he evaded the bola, only to fall backward when someone bucked the back of his knees. Without looking, he grabbed the offender and threw it aside. He had no time to savor the sound of the impact when he caught a faceful of metal-reinforced net.

Switching to wolf form, he slipped his bindings. He lunged at Lavender's belly, bowling her over. Another twanging came from above, muzzling him with another net before he could bite the hapless girl. He rolled to his left as he struggled to slip his burning bonds as another bola bounced where he had been a split second before. He had scarcely shaken away the net when he turned toward a scream from the opponent he had thrown. "Bonsai!" A potted plant caught him full in the face.


The man's head snapped back. The crowd roared as Heather continued her narration. "Is that girl Lennox Lewis in disguise?"

"Unbelievable! They're divebombing him!"

The crowd cringed. "The red-maned one is going to be feeling that for a long time."

Suddenly, silence reigned. "Everyone, do you believe your eyes? We already knew magic is real. We now know werewolves are, also."


Switching back to human form, he leapt over the bola that would have ensnared the wolf's legs. Running in a zig zag, he dodged the nets and bolas that were slung at him. He leapt atop a bin and turned. His jaw dropped. He was being attacked by little horses in chainmail? This had to be the ultimate indignity.

He sidestepped just in time to avoid the head of the mace that embedded itself deeply into the bin. Kicking out, he caught Lavender in the face, staggering her. He body slammed her to the ground, only to switch back to a wolf to avoid being kneecapped.

As the wolf bared his teeth, a boy's voice came from above. "Cyclone Spin!" Impossibly, dust and debris swirled around him as the suction pulled him off the girl's back. He snarled as he was spun around. Abruptly, he shifted back to human, a form too heavy for the vortex.


The crowd roared. Heather said, "That poor little girl is taking a beating. What's this? Do you believe a wolf can fly?"


No sooner did he touch down when a girl yelled, "Let 'im have it with both barrels!"

He turned to see two examples of the cooper's craft flying at him, one aimed at his head, and the other at his torso. He switched back to wolf, and the projectiles sailed harmlessly overhead. He could see that his quarry was breathing heavily, bent over with her hands on her thighs. In three strides and a fraction of a second, he was at her throat.

Triumphantly, he bit down, hard, on the hollow under the collarbone.


Silence again filled the room. Aghast, Heather said, "It's over. Poor girl."


IT BURNED!

WHERE WAS THE BLOOD?

IT BURNED! IT BURNED! IT BURNED!

A mailed hand grabbed the wolf around the throat and tore him away. Wisps of smoke rose from every contact point. The girl snarled, "My name is Lavender Brown. You tried to kill my father. Prepare to die."

The wolf desperately writhed as its air supply was choked off. Lavender balled her fist and windmilled her arm. The wolf could swear that she was glowing slightly when the blow landed. Somehow, the pain of a shattered jaw detracted from the joy of flight.


The crowd roared. Heather screamed, "Unbelievable! She's alive! That was a bolo punch. Wait. Do you see that bright orange unicorn wiggling its hips while that mace is floating in front of it? It almost looks like she's addressing a ball."

The wolf fell, flailing, just in front of the mace. The unicorn mouthed, "Aft!" and gave a powerful swing of its head, complete with a proper follow through. The head of the mace traced a perfect arc.

Every male viewer simultaneously felt visceral dread. A few in the pub fainted when they heard the impact.

Brightly, Heather said, "I think losing a ball might add to the wolf's handicap."


The wolf tried to struggle past the pain. He was the alpha predator. He literally ate their kind for lunch. There was no way he would lose to mere children. He rose to his paws, glaring at the ivory unicorn with the sandy brown mane. The tube the pony held in his magic coughed out a silvery cloud. When it reached the wolf, a spark jumped from the unicorn's horn. The wolf's head was obscured by a blinding flash, and the stench of burning fur filled the air.

A yellow pony with a red mane galloped behind the wolf and grabbed its tail in its mouth. Between clenched teeth, he said, "BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!" as he whipped the wolf back and forth.


Heather said, "Good lord, its head is on fire. Wait. It looks like they're beating it out with the pavement." Looking up, she said, "That was quite the throw. It looks like the wolf is flying again."


The wolf felt a moment of weightlessness as he reached the apex of his trajectory. His limbs hung limply as two bolas struck him simultaneously. One secured his forelegs to his barrel while the other wrapped up his hindquarters. The weights on the front struck heavily on his skull while the weights on the rear reduced his chances of having offspring.

As he descended, the twang of a crossbow announced the launch of one of the nets he'd escaped earlier. It wrapped around his head before he reached the ground. Two more twangs announced two more nets, fully covering his body with metal mesh. His landing brought the welcomed relief of unconsciousness.


Shakily, the anchorman said, "Heather, is that what I think it is? Is the girl using 100 mph tape? Is she making a mummy?"

His co-host smiled and said, "I guess that's a wrap."


In her office, Amelia Bones slogged through her paperwork with the enthusiasm of the damned. A wave of relief washed over her when a knock at the door broke the monotony. She set down her work and said, "Come."

An auror stuck her head in the door and said, "Boss, there are a bunch of Gryffindor first-years in the lobby who say they have a present for you."

"Gryffindors?"

"Well, when I saw a werewolf wrapped in silver and duct tape, I just assumed."


In the new greenhouse at Sweet Apple Acres, there was a clack of hooves when Lavender watched while the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders high-hoofed.

“We showed that polecat that nopony messes with our herd!” Apple Bloom declared happily.

“We sure kicked flank!” Dean exclaimed, placing his net caster on a rack as a growling hiss echoed throughout their sanctuary.

“I’ll feed you in a few minutes, Albert!” Neville shouted. “You had better be keeping those roots in your pot, where they belong!”

“You might want to hurry up with that before he gets cranky,” Abigail suggested.

“I can’t wait to see if we got our werewolf hunting cutie marks!” Scootaloo said, tugging off her armor.

“I can’t wait to see what a werewolf hunting cutie mark looks like!” Sweetie added, starting on her own suit.

“I’m just glad Hermione already has hers,” Parvati said. “I’d hate to see what one would look like after she invented two-ball golf.”

Puzzled, Ron said, "I still don't see what's the big deal about getting a tattoo on your bum."

Apple Bloom replied, '"It ain't no tattoo. It's a sign of what you're good at."

Scootaloo added, "It's a sign of growing up."

Sweetie Belle said, "It's the first step to becoming a real mare."

Ron began to sing, "I don't wanna grow up."

Ginny clamped a hoof over his mouth. "Can it, Geoffrey."

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Ah got nuthin’,” Apple Bloom said dejectedly after examining her now-exposed flank.

“Neither did I,” Harry said, peering down at his own side.

“I’m still blank,” Ginny added.

“Same here,” declared Luna.

Lavender transformed, sending her gear back into interdimensional storage. "I've got something! What does it mean?"

“We got one!” Sweetie exclaimed. “We finally got one! This was an unmitigated success!”

Scootaloo climbed over Seamus to get a closer look at Lavender’s cutie mark before shooting Hermione a questioning glance.

“A complete and unquestionable success,” Hermione said, maneuvering for her own view.

“We got Lavender her cutie mark!” Scootaloo exclaimed, jumping in place.

“That thar is wonderful!” Apple Bloom pranced in place as she examined the fruits of their labor. Lavender’s flank sported a classic yellow heraldic shield with an inescutcheon of a femur being broken by a sledgehammer with a distinct silvery sheen. “Ah reckon’ that it means y'all can break bones when someone threatens someone yer protecting.”

“It fits her,” Luna said dreamily.

“Cutie marks always do.” Sweetie commented. “I’m so happy for you Lavender!”

"Y'all know what this means," said Apple Bloom.

“We need to find another werewolf and see if we can’t get some more marks!” Abigail suggested.

“Yeah, I want another chance at a werewolf hunting cutie mark,” Scootaloo piped up.

“Well yeah.” Apple Bloom agreed. “But y'all know what else it means?”

"A new crusade?" asked Seamus. “Cutie Mark Crusader Big Game Hunters?”

“There’s an idea.” Ginny nodded her head enthusiastically.

“I like it,” Dean opined enthusiastically.

“Yer all getting ahead of yerselves.” Apple Bloom said. "This here's a huge deal. We jus' got our first cutie mark from crusading. We gotta make a plaque so nopony forgets. Then, we gotta throw the biggest dang cutecenera in Ponyville history."

A feral growl hushed the crowd.

“Can we get something to eat first?” Ron asked. “I’m starving.”

“I could do sushi,” Neville said.

“A rare sirloin sounds great right about now,” Sweetie countered.

“I know a great Thai restaurant,” Hermione interjected. “Maybe it’s time to try something new.”

Parvati said, "It's Lavender's cutie mark. She should get to choose."

"I'm dead chuffed that we put the werewolf who attacked my parents behind bars." Lavender smirked. “Getting my cutie mark is just icing on the cake at this point.”

“Don’t say cake,” Ron groaned as Apple Bloom blanched.

Harry said, "I wonder what's going to happen to old Greyback now."


The routine of the high security wing in St. Mungo's was punctuated by feral growls as the healer triaged her latest patient. "You know, we really should bring in a veterinarian for this."

The auror replied, "Don't tell me this is the first werewolf you treated."

"The normal course of action requires a silver bullet," said the healer."

"He is going to stand trial, no matter what," Amelia stated. "Keep him alive."

The healer frowned. "We can't vanish his bindings. With silver still touching his skin, any magic could send him into shock and kill him outright.

The wolf turned his head toward the healer and growled.

The auror said, "He doesn't look very cooperative. How are we going to keep him from biting us when we free him?"

"We just need to make sure we wear protection," said Amelia. The others shot a questioning glance at her belly. Amelia groaned. "Get your minds out of the gutter."

The healer said, "I don't think there's any way we can take the tape out of the fur."

The auror shrugged. "There's only one way to find out."

The wolf whimpered.

Thus, began the Night of a Thousand Howls.

Author's Note:

It should come as a surprise to no one that I had trouble writing this chapter. Fight scenes are a new thing for me and Rich is the one you should thank for the final result. Meanwhile I have about fifteen k worth of words of attempts that will, thankfully never see the light of day.

Also, I apologize for hitting that darn publish button by accident again. I'm just happy the moderators haven't gotten angry at me over it since this is the third time I have done so.

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