12 — Weapons of Mass Destruction
Harry stared critically at the trebuchet as it launched another pony into the lake, this one doing various flips and spins before diving fore-hooves first into the lake. Her friends at the pony-pitcher cheered, then rapidly pulled the arm back for the next launch.
“How you didn’t get a cutie mark for that I’ll never understand,” he said quietly. A series of disappointed sighs sounded beside him.
“Well,” said Apple Bloom, “It really wasn’t that hard. It’s just a bunch of tree trunks we tied and nailed together. I think the hardest parts were the pegs in the throwing arm.”
They sat watching, waiting their turn. “Maybe we should make another just for the kids,” he said. “They get a bit restless waiting for their turn.” He looked at the fillies.
“A pony-pitcher for goats?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Kids, another word for fillies and colts younger than us.” He sighed. “It wouldn’t be as large and we could place it closer to the lake. That would also get some of the grown-ups off this one as they help their fillies and colts with the new one.”
The fillies thought that over for a moment, then smiled.
“We’ll start Monday, after school,” Sweetie Belle said decisively as they moved forward another few steps in the line.
That Monday evening Harry discovered just how difficult it was to remove tree-sap from one’s fur.
On the other hand . . . hoof . . . it was the first time he had ever had a long hot bath. That the fillies were with him in the tub was embarrassing at first, but their matter-of-fact attitude quickly put him at ease. Then he discovered the dubious joys of waiting for fur to dry in a dusty barn.
He was much more careful on the remaining nights. It didn’t prevent him from getting tree-sap on his coat, but there was much less of it. Although the hot baths with the fillies were a fair recompense, he decided, for getting rid of the sap.
۸- ̬ -۸
On Friday they pulled the finished filly-flinger, as Scootaloo named it, into position. The previous day, with the enthusiastic help of their school-friends, they had levelled the prospective resting place much closer to the lake. For this one, they had dug four holes for the posts that would hold the smaller siege engine firmly in place.
They removed the wheels — they had reused the other trebuchet’s wheels — and placed the holding posts. They then packed the now-filled post holes with rocks and sand. Judicious stomping by Apple Bloom tamped everything firmly in place. They used a much smaller bucket so the smaller fillies and colts weren’t sent nearly as fast or as far as the bigger one would throw them. That, in turn, meant it was easier to prepare each time and the round-trips were shorter, making for more rides for the smaller ponies.
The icing on the cake, as far as the Cutie Mark Crusaders were concerned, was overhearing some grownups deciding to build a bigger pony-pitcher just for them, giving Ponyville three trebuchets as a recreational activity for all ages.
The addition of anchored rafts close, but not too close, to the splashdown areas made it safer. And ponies didn’t have to swim immediately back to shore.
Even the pegasi had gotten into the act, using the trebuchet as a dodge-ball game, where the thrown pegasus tried to aim for the hovering target. Usually, a pegasus could see an approaching opponent miles away, and could hear the air disturbance of their wings at a good distance. It was a great reflex improver to have an opponent suddenly pop up less than two seconds away and headed for you at great speed.
At some point, a unicorn had decided to participate. The unexpected participant shooting spells rapidly at the surprised pegasus playing target added a heretofore unforeseen dimension to aerial combat. The pegasi, fanatical adrenalin junkies that they were, were delighted at the new challenges this provided.
The trebuchets had become quite popular on the hot summer days. Even kids and adults from some of the closer villages were coming over to try them out. And Pegasi from all over were appearing at the lake.
۸- ̬ -۸
Harry looked down at the four timber-wolves circling their tree and sighed. The three fillies were on branches above him, which kept the wolves’ attention on him.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time . . . .
“Harry,” Apple Bloom had said after school, “Ah wanna introduce you to Zecora!”
Sweetie Belle had interrupted, “AB, you know we’re not supposed to go into the Everfree after school!”
The four of them had been trotting towards the clubhouse.
“Aw, don’t be that way,” she had replied. “We won’t be long, and we’ll stick right to the trail. If we hurry we’ll be back home long before dinner!”
“Zecora?” had asked Harry.
There followed the complete story of how the Zebra had scared all the Ponyville residents, with the Mane Six getting dosed with Poison Joke and turned into their humiliating opposites. Twilight’s horn turned limp and flaccid, making her Twilight Flopple. Rainbow Dash’s wings turned upside down and on her lower sides, she became Rainbow Crash. Applejack shrank down to fit on a pony’s hoof and became Apple Teeny. Rarity’s mane, coat, and tail became frizzled, very long, and mop-like, making her Hairity. Pinkie Pie’s tongue became swollen and covered in blue spots, making her speak unintelligibly, and giving her the name Spitty Pie. And Fluttershy’s voice dropped several octaves and she became Flutterguy.
By the time the story was over, the colt and fillies had arrived at the forest’s edge. And, somehow, had all now agreed that visiting Zecora just had to be done. “It’s a short walk,” Apple Bloom had assured him, “Not more than ten minutes. I’ve made the trip many times. She’s been teaching me how to make potions!”
The forest had been as foreboding as always, with that hint of malice and decay in the air that it always held. The trail Apple Bloom had set out on was at least a well-marked path. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all that wide and they had been restricted to single-file in the darkness under the trees.
It had been Harry’s first foray into the forest since his original escape. He had to say the forest was just as intimidating as he had been told. He had been in too much pain to notice when he had first arrived.
Five minutes later, they had heard rustling to their left. “Maybe we should go a bit faster?” Sweetie Belle had suggested nervously. They had sped up from a nervous walk to a trot.
Then they had heard rustling behind them. No one said anything, but they nervously had started to move faster.
Then a timber-wolf had jumped onto the trail in front of them. Apple Bloom had shrieked in surprise. They had spun to race back home, only to see another timber-wolf standing there, growling.
They had taken off into the forest to their right. Moments later, a crash from in front of them had revealed another timber-wolf.
Which was how they had been treed by four timber-wolves.
“Aw, horsefeathers!” said Apple Bloom. She looked around them at the other trees. “Ah can see the edge of the Everfree, right over thar!” She pointed with a hoof and slipped. She grabbed her branch with all four limbs. “Whoa!”
One of the timber-wolves moved from below Harry to stand below Apple Bloom, sappy saliva dripping from its snout.
Harry sighed. Just like being chased by Dudley. Only with magical creatures. With magic. Magic. Magic! He studied the branches around them. Just below him, to his right, was another big branch. He didn’t know any cutting spells, yet — he was still working on levitating things — but maybe Sweetie Belle did from helping her sister. “Hey, Sweetie Belle,” he called up to her and explained what he wanted to try.
It didn’t work, at first. She had to use the spell almost a dozen times while he tried to hold the end of the branch pulled slightly towards himself. Soon enough, though, there was a loud CRACK and the weight of the branch tore it from the tree trunk. Harry’s hold, of course, failed almost immediately. But it held just long enough to swing the branch in his direction as it plummeted down and onto the head of the timber-wolf under his branch. There was a loud SMASH and THUD. The front half of the timber-wolf was crushed under the branch. As he watched, the back half simply fell apart into sticks and leaves.
Apple Bloom leaned up against another branch as the colt and filly went to work on the branch she was standing on. Just as she noticed it starting to sink, she jumped to the new branch, and broke the other free. It squashed the wolf under her quite nicely.
Unfortunately, the other two wolves moved away from their tree and sat nearby. But not too unfortunate, as Harry and Sweetie Belle transferred their actions to the tree the two wolves were sitting under. A sturdy branch did the job, smashing one timber-wolf and trapping or crippling the other.
“Um, Harry?” said Apple Bloom. “That first timber-wolf is almost back.”
Harry looked. Terrifyingly, beside the first branch they had sent down, he could see the crude form of a wolf slowly bulking up.
They scrambled down and headed for the Orchard as fast as they could. Just as they reached the edge they could hear the howl of a frustrated wolf echoing out of the forest.
They didn’t stop running until they reached the farm house. They stood there, sides heaving. “Aw, horsefeathers,” said Apple Bloom. The others looked at her curiously. She was rubbing her fore-hoof against her side. She looked back up and said, “Sap.” The other three groaned and started checking themselves out.
Apple Bloom’s sour answer of, “Crusading,” somehow managed to deflect her sister’s question about their afternoon escapade. They didn’t have to explain why they were in the Everfree forest. Apparently, Applejack and Big Mac assumed the White Tail Woods beside the lake were the source of their sappiness.
۸- ̫ -۸
It was at lunch time the next day that Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon came over again. She had been harassing Harry and the Cutie Mark Crusaders for several weeks now. “Well, blank-flanks, what’re you going to do to get in trouble today?” She ignored Harry, speaking to Scootaloo, the one most likely to lose her temper.
She had learned that trying to torment Harry wasn’t worth the effort. He never responded, he just stared at her. She would have said he wasn’t very smart, but his arithmetic and Ponyish skills made that impossible. That and the fact that the way he just stared at her made her uneasy. And he was so small. She always felt like she was talking to a foal when she talked to him.
Scootaloo rolled her eyes, but before she could more than open her mouth, Harry said, “Are you soo insecure in your own self-worth that the only way you can feel good about yourself is to put down others over things they have no control over?”
Tiara, and her friend Silver Spoon, just stared at him. That he talked more like an adult than any of them, despite his resemblance to a much younger foal, was oddly disturbing.
“Sure, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and myself don’t have our Cutie Marks yet, but who cares, really? Look at all the fun things we do trying to find our Marks while you just sit around, bored, doing nothing truly interesting because you already have a Cutie Mark.
“Where’s the excitement in your life? Have you ever tried taffy making, hairdressing, mountain climbing, or underwater exploring? Have you ever put on your own talent show?
“We did. We even built the pony-pitcher and filly-flinger that you’ve had so much fun with these last two weeks. What have you done? As far as I can tell, nothing. Except maybe a few dozen tea-parties with Silver Spoon.
“If being a blank flank, as you so dismissively call us, lets us have so much fun, then I would rather remain a blank flank. And today, we’re going to see how sofas are made. Maybe that’s the talent for one of us. We don’t know, but we’ll have fun trying. What will you do for fun after school? Have yet another tea party?”
Harry stopped and resumed his stare. He had learned long ago that the best defence against bullies was to ignore them, to not react to what they did unless they went to violence. And his steady blank stare always unsettled them. It had even worked on Dudley — sometimes.
The fillies stared at him wide-eyed
“Well, I never!” Tiara said, at a loss for what to say, and just saying what her mother said when she was surprised by another’s response, Harry assumed.
The colt nodded. “And that’s why we have more fun than you do. Because you never.”
“Hmmph!” she hmmphed, turning to walk away.
The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, and the end of the confrontation. If it could be called that.
They started towards the door, letting the unhappy Tiara and friend get ahead of them.
“We’re going to make a sofa?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“Eh,” said Harry, “Sorry about that.” He shook his head. He would have rubbed his neck if they weren’t walking. “It was the first thing I thought of,” he pointed with his nose at Ponyville. Barely visible in the distance behind where Tiara had been standing during their encounter, they could see the vague outline of the Quills and Sofas shop.
Scootaloo laughed. “Well, why not?” she said happily.
Harry had to admit later, as they walked into Quills and Sofas after school, that he would never have thought the two went together, but seeing all the pillows and cushions proudly displayed with signs that read “Made from the finest down feathers” explained it. After all if you’re collecting feathers for sofa cushions and pillows, it’s not unlikely you would get a few big ones as well. Using the big ones to make quills was simply another way to turn a discard into profit.
“Welcome!” said a voice from the back of the shop accompanied by the clip-clop of someone hurrying in their direction. “Good afternoon! I’m Davenport, the proprietor of this establishment. What can I . . . do . . . for . . . you,” his voice trailed off as he caught sight of them. He did not look happy. His eyes narrowed and he stared at them nervously. “What do you want?”he said flatly, their reputation clearly in mind.
“Hi!” said Scootaloo excitedly, “We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders!”
“Yes,” said the Earth pony, looking even more nervous and taking a step backwards as if afraid he might catch a disease. Or thought he was inside collateral damage range.
“I see our reputation precedes us,” Harry said dryly. He cleared his throat. “We were wondering if you could show us how sofas and quills are made?”
The pony sighed in resignation.
“Wow!” said Apple Bloom, “This is really springy!” She was using a nearby sofa as a trampoline. Sweetie Belle was looking under the cushions of another one. Scootaloo was . . . somewhere.
Harry placed his hoof over his eyes. “Girls!” he said sharply, “Focus!”
There was a crash from the back room, followed immediately by Scootaloo’s voice, “I’m alright!”
Davenport wheeled and ran into his backroom, Harry and the other two fillies on his heels.
He lifted the errant filly out of the sofa frame that was on the floor and now slightly twisted.
Harry looked around the room. It was much larger than he had expected. There was a tablesaw, jigsaw, and sander — all hoof-powered — against the wall, with various hoof-tools racked on the wall above them. On the opposite wall were racks of cloth and a large sewing table. At the back were several sofas in various stages of completion.
The next half-hour was difficult for the poor shopkeeper as he tried to explain how he created his custom sofas. Apple Bloom got trapped in the pulleys under the tablesaw. Sweetie Belle got tied up in the threads under the hoof-powered sewing machine — she was trying to figure out how the machine did what she and her sister used magic to do. And Scootaloo, somehow, got stuck inside an almost completed sofa.
“Sorry about your sofa, Mr. Davenport,” Scootaloo said as he escorted them to his front door.
“That’s alright,” the pony said with a pained expression, “That sofa needed a new backing, anyway. And it should only take an hour or so to untangle the sewing machine threads.”
“Sorry,” said Sweetie Belle, blushing.
“And the belts on that saw were getting worn anyway.”
Apple Bloom said nothing, but her bright red face said it all.
Just as the fillies were going out the door, Harry stopped. “Excuse me, Mr. Davenport, but do you make sofa beds, too? I didn’t see any.” Such a thing would be useful at Twilight’s place, now that the other had vanished overnight. He still didn’t understand that.
The shopkeeper stared at him. “Sofa . . . beds?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “You know, a sofa that folds out into a bed? They’re great for unexpected guests or small rooms.”
“Folds out?” said the proprietor as he sat on his haunches.
Harry frowned. “Have you ever heard of a futon? That’s the simplest one.”
The stallion shook his head.
Harry stepped outside and started to draw angled lines in the dirt beside the porch. “These wooden pieces are the back of the futon, about a hoof apart. They attach to these horizontal pieces with a rod through their ends as a hinge.” He drew some horizontal lines interspaced with the bottoms of the angled ones. “The frame holds them up.” He sketched a couple of other lines.
“The important part is here at the sides where the hinge meets the frame.” He pointed with a fore-hoof. “It slides back and forth and lets the seat slide forward and the back to slide forward while dropping level.” He stepped over and drew another sketch of a bed where the former sofa arms were now a very short headboard and tailboard at each end of a flat ribbed bed.
“The mattress on it is just a giant cushion that folds and doubles as the seat and back when it’s a sofa.” He grinned up at the pony. “The back moving forward means it can be close to a wall and still fold into a bed without having to move it. No wasted space that way.”
“There’s another kind, usually with a metal frame, that fits inside a normal sofa. It folds into thirds where one third slides up behind the back and the other two thirds fold together and fit under the seat cushions. It usually has a thin mattress that folds away with the bed part. Most people can’t tell it’s a bed until you unfold it!” Harry finished. That was what the Dursleys had in the sitting-room — not that they ever used it.
The fillies were staring at him, as was the shopkeeper.
“That’s brilliant!” the pony whispered. “Show me!” He hustled them back inside, stopping to put a closed sign on the door.
Harry winced as he heard another crash from the storage room. “I’m alright!” came Apple Bloom’s voice. He looked around the workshop and shuddered. Feathers covered the entire floor like a multi-colored field of snow. Muffled sounds from the sewing table, and the two hooves sticking out of opposite corners of a lumpy cushion revealed that Sweetie Belle had managed to sew herself inside it with the sewing machine and was currently trying to escape. And Scootaloo . . . Scootaloo looked to be building a large ballista out of scrap wood, metal braces, and cloth.
The back-room was in a shambles, but the shopkeeper didn’t seem to care. He hadn’t even flinched at the latest crash. He stared at the working table-top models of a futon and a sofa bed, gently converting them from couch to bed and back, repeatedly.
“These are brilliant!” he whispered. He looked at Harry. “You have revolutionized the sofa industry, my colt!”
Harry blushed. “But back where I used to live everyone knows about these things, so they aren’t my idea.”
The pony stared at him steadily. “But in all of Equestria, no one else has ever seen or thought of these. I thank you for bringing them to me.” He blinked and looked around his workroom. “Oh, dear,” he said, surprised at what he saw. Sweetie Belle had managed to get her head out of the cushion and was looking around before embarking on getting the rest of the way out.
There was a yelp from Scootaloo as her project tipped over and disintegrated with a bang,and a loud thunk from across the room. The numerous pieces went skittering across the floor. Apple Bloom came out of the storeroom, checking to see what the noise was. A sliding sound and thud of something heavy hitting the floor behind her followed her out. Sweetie Belle looked up at the thin wooden rod, that hadn’t been there a minute ago, now protruding from the wall a few inches over her head.
Harry sighed. “I think we should head home now, girls, it’s almost dinner time.”
Scootaloo tried to look innocent as she nonchalantly stepped away from the remains of her afternoon’s activity. “Um, yeah, I think you’re right, Harry.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Apple Bloom, looking out the new rough-edged window between the work-room and the shop’s front display room. The long shadows visible through the outside windows clearly indicated the lateness of the hour.
“A little help, here?” said Sweetie Belle testily, flopping onto the floor with a thud and an, “Ow!”
Davenport sighed sadly.
“I’m sorry,” said Harry, “I should have kept a closer watch on them.” He looked up at the stallion worriedly.
The pony gave him a half-hearted smile as he surveyed the wreckage that remained of his nice and neat workroom. “That’s alright,” he said, his tone faltering. He took a deep breath and looked at his two table-top models. His smile became a bit more genuine, “I think, all-in-all, it’s a more than fair trade.”
۸- ̬ -۸
“This is a great idea, Harry!” Sweetie Belle said.
“Cutie Mark Crusader Honey Harvesters! YAY!” they all cried out.
It was the day after their foray into sofa-making and not too long after school let out.
They stood beside an old, lightning-struck tree across the path from Sweet Apple Acres. One side and the canopy above were covered in the green leaves of a healthy tree while a large section just below the lowest branch was the weathered light-brown of dead wood. Bees flew in and out of a large opening in that section.
“Now, the book I read in the library,” Harry explained, “said we should use a smoky torch to soothe the bees before we try to get any honey combs out.” He held up a wooden stick wrapped in rags. “So we need to wait a few minutes before doing anything. Is everything set?” He looked over to Scootaloo’s scooter and cart. The cart held a small barrel that could hold about ten gallons of liquid. It was an old cider cask that they had borrowed for this. Applejack wouldn’t mind once they brought it back full of honey.
Nodding, he concentrated and soon a small flame appeared on the rags. As soon as it was going, he lifted the torch in his magic and held it in front of the opening. The old oily rags performed as they should and smoke enveloped that section of the tree.
For about one minute . . . then the rags fell off the stick and burnt to ash slightly before or after they hit the ground. This left Harry holding up a stick with a slightly charred tip. The bees did not seem all that soothed, either.
“Well damn,” said Harry, dropping the stick.
They stared at the stick for a moment.
“How about we start a fire here and put green leaves on it to make smoke?” suggested Apple Bloom. “That’s what mah sister does when dealing with a wasps’ nest in the barn.”
Soon they had a respectable little fire going about ten feet from the tree. The leaves, when added, made a nice thick white smoke that the wind then blew straight over the hole in the tree. “Yay!” cheered Scootaloo. Then the wind changed direction to the left, making the smoke miss the tree to the right. “Awww,” they all said.
But they added some wood to the left of their fire, added more leaves, and soon the smoke was once more enveloping the bee hive entrance.
Until the wind shifted again.
Soon, they had a smouldering ring of fire around the tree with a plume of smoke that covered the right spot no matter what the wind’s direction was.
After ten minutes, they kicked a hole through the ring, downwind of the bee hive entrance, and went closer, bringing the barrel with them. Apple Bloom planted her hooves firmly. Sweetie Belle climbed onto Apple Bloom’s back. Then Scootaloo hopped-flew onto Sweetie Belle’s back. And Harry finally climbed up to the top.
From his new vantage point he could easily see into the hive and used his levitation magic to separate and lift out a honey comb. Sweetie Belle gently swept the comb with her magic, shooing the bees off, and leaving the honey. Harry carefully kept the honey from dripping off as he lowered the comb into the small barrel.
They did this until Sweetie Belle called out, “That’s it! The barrel is full!”
“Aww,” said Harry, “There’s plenty left inside, I can feel it with my magic.”
“Well,” Apple Bloom interjected, “We want to make sure the hive has plenty for the winter.”
Harry, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo jumped down and started to kick dirt over the smouldering ring of fire. After she put a lid on the barrel, Apple Bloom joined them. Harry and Scootaloo went one direction while the other two fillies went the other direction. The unicorns pulled the fire apart while their partners kicked dirt over it to put it out.
It was only when they reached the section closest to the forest that they discovered a flaw in their afternoon’s plan.
“Ooops,” said Harry, staring at the line of fire leading into the forest and rapidly spreading on the dead branches and dry debris liberally littering the forest floor.
“Ah think maybe a dead branch was under that part of arr smoke ring,” said Apple Bloom.
They watched as the fire spread to the base of a fourth tree.
“I once heard a telly show,” Harry said, “that said fires are an important part of keeping a forest healthy. That they burn the debris of broken branches, leaves, and fallen trees and restore nutrients to the soil. That the fire creates more open spaces for new trees by burning up dead or diseased trees. And that there are even some trees whose seeds won’t start growing until after a fire passes through. And that unless there’s a drought, the healthy trees easily survive.” The nearest tree’s leaves suddenly went up in flames, the tree turning into a giant torch, the heat triggering a second tree into becoming fully involved in flames.
The fillies didn’t say anything, mesmerized.
“Ah think Ah need to tell mah sister about this,” said Apple Bloom nervously.
“And maybe the guards?” suggested Sweetie Belle in an equally unsteady voice.
They slowly started backing to the honey barrel, intending to grab it and run.
“Definitely the fire brigade,” said Harry.
Apparently, some of the roots of the bee tree had also been close to the surface at their fire ring. As a result, those now charcoaled roots were no longer doing their job. There was a loud crack and the tree began to tilt, the dead section beginning to split and honey pouring out.
“Run!” yelled Harry. Before they could take more than a few steps, though, the dead section of the tree fell to the ground with a huge THUMP. It landed right on their barrel, crushing it and splashing them liberally with a mixture of sap and honey.
The bees were enraged, and headed for the four foals.
Scootaloo hopped on her scooter and started towards the Apple farmhouse, the other three right on her tail. She hadn’t gone five feet before Apple Bloom passed her at a dead run. “I am soo grounded,” they heard her moan as she quickly took the lead.
Harry, behind the others, shouted, “I’ll head for the town hall. Sweetie Belle, head for the Fire Department. Scootaloo, get Twilight!” Apple Bloom was already headed for the farmhouse to warn her family. The other three took off in slightly different directions at a full gallop.
Harry didn’t notice the queen bee clinging to his mane. Nor the swarm that followed him — and only him.
۸-ꞈ-۸
Dear Celestia,
I tried your suggestion of grounding Harry (see updated notes on the Everfree Forest fire and subsequent bee infestation of the Town Hall) by restricting him to the library and letting him read only his textbooks. It didn’t work. He thanked me for the additional time he could practice his magic without being interrupted. (Apparently the Cutie Mark Crusaders were distracting him a bit from his magical studies, in his opinion.)
Any other suggestions?
Your Faithful Student,
Twilight Sparkle.
۸-_-۸
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Davenport: I just hope my insurance would cover unnatural, non-magical damage.
8950247
Davenport: I wonder if I it's too late to get an insurance rider for the CMC?
Man, all that work and nothing to show for it! Frankly, I would have loved seeing what the quartet would have done with a barrel of honey, not just seeing it get smashed and turned into another problem to clean up. Disappointing, but par for the course really.
8950410
CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS MEAD MAKERS, YAY!
Ask your mum Twilight.
I think Twilight Velvet could teach them a lot of things.
Well, at least Harry has revolutionized the Equestrian sofa industry.
8950889
sofa beds were invented only in 1899, and futons in 1982, so ponies not having them can't be considered unusual. Especially given their apparent 1800's society.
8950928 Oh yeah... I wonder if Davenport would be put out of business if ballpoint and gel pens were invented?
I'm really enjoying this story, I do wonder if it will stay mostly in Equestria or mostly in the human world, or about equal. I find the idea of Harry going to school in Hogwarts to be something to be challenged. The only reason to do so is to give Harry a bit of his legacy, and to learn about human magic, which is very disturbing to ponies I imagine. All the mind alteration spells are a giant red flag of warning, danger. Everything we've read about Dumbledore's spells are something that can and have been easily abused and can lead to great tragedy, as well as controlling muggles.
Still, outside of that concern Harry with ponies under his belt, maybe with fellow ponies in Hogwarts, would be very interesting to contemplate. I just don't know if that will ever come to pass or not, it seems just opening relations and keeping it cordial would take a bunch of effort. Stealing him outright would have negative consequences, but him never returning is just as worrying.
I've seen a fanfic or two of Harry siding with muggles against the wizarding world, and they are interesting, but with ponies involved throwing their lot in behind the muggles against the magic abusing wizards and witches is not an angle I've ever seen before. I don't think this story will go that route, but it certainly has the right setup to do so.
That chapter was definitely worth some chuckles, you get another yay.
Bahahahahaha! Oh, I knew Harry + the CMCs was a recipe for chaos. But, this was amazing! I loved Harry revolutionizing the sofa industry.
Up until this latest chapter, I had been musing on the idea of Harry receiving a stipend from Ponyville as a CMC-restrainer. No more.
"I just don't know what went wrong."
8954269
O.o
8954691
No...stop it with the face, your only allowed to eat Jay and you know it
8958668
I’m so confused. Why are you accusing me of eating something?
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Your not claiming theres two of you running around is there? I was reading another story with a character/commenter in it that wanted to eat some of the others
8963444
So, now it's a blog.
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8963446
Admin deleted it as "not part of a story."
9023453
I'm pretty sure Harry did love reading in the books but I don't think it came up much after the first book.
9023492
Information was so valuable, especially as he was starting out. It was a new world, an exciting world, and knowledge was power. As he got "used to it," he stopped. And I think Ron was a bit of a bad influence in the education department. (Though there's no doubting he was a good friend)
........So are you, y'know. You're not a mare yet, so by definition you're a filly, and thus a foal. Dum-dum.
9059458
Yeah, but ya know, every kid thinks every kid younger than herself is just a little kid, but they are all grown up!
Ah, the ever-infamous '10 Minute Walk'; which always winds up taking much more than the promised ten minutes...
I am a little confused did the queen that hid in harry's hair make a nes tin town hall or is it still with harry
I was just waiting for that to misfire. Good job -- they not only lost the honey and got chased by the bees, but also managed to start a fire AND infest the town hall! Impressive. Murphy would be proud...
Hey, does anyone know who their father(s) were...?
Did you perhaps mean [ "Zecora?" Harry had asked? ] Or perhaps [ "Zecora?" asked Harry. ]
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Thanks for spotting the Zercora error. Fixed. And he's remembering something in the past, hence "had asked Harry." Could have been "Harry had asked." both are grammatically correct.
Spend enough time in hell and life looks like heaven. Goodluck Twilight.
BEEES.
keeps reading
Yup. BEES.
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oh ohno not the bees not the bees arghhhh there in my eyes
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And sap. Don't forget the sap.
Oh yeah, forgot about this, what with the newest chapters dealing with Harry's misadventures at Hogwarts; how did this go? Did the sofa beds become a hit, or not?
Well ... since apparently I'm proofreading this story now (why do I allways end up doing that?) here, have some missing commas:
both need commas
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According to my grammar checkers, no, commas are not needed for those.
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both of them are lists of attributes, lists of two elements need to be separated by comma or 'and' while list of three or more need separation by comma for all but the last element which can be separated by either 'and' or 'comma and' in lists of attributes, colors are exceptions and do not need to be sepparated ... for some reason ... english grammar is weird ...
I am quite enjoying this story. Im looking forward to how you handled his time to go to Hogwarts bit and events from there.
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He's a Gary Stu in the Harry Potter novels too.
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That’s assuming that he’s not failing at anything at all. I think he failed spectacularly at the honey collecting by setting the forest on fire... after a couple attempts to smoke the bees out. He’s just highly knowledgeable.
However, knowledge does not necessarily mean expertise.
In terms of flaws, he does have a very skewed sense of reward and punishment. This is the result of lifelong psychological trauma, and it may also develop into some true flaws such as emotional detachment and a lack of empathy for others which may make forming relationships difficult if not strain existing bonds. (Assuming it’s not addressed soon)
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Like Tom Riddle back when he was younger?
Help, it’s 4:30 in the morning and I’ve had no sleep because I can’t stop reading
These need spaces
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Thanks.
Extra quotation mark error
That is the first believable explanation I have ever heard for that.
Oh, F...
I can already see where this is going.
... I'll get the marshmallows.
Oh,Twilight.
You can't punish someone whose life was torture. Anythinh will be an improviment from the norm.
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Don’t worry, Twilight, it happens to the best of us.
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considering that Apple Bloom was later stated to be allergic to Bees...
I'm surprised that's actually a word and it have this meaning.