• Published 11th Apr 2018
  • 30,368 Views, 21,290 Comments

If Wishes were Ponies . . . . - tkepner



Harry Potter, after a beating by Dudley and friends — with the help of a real gang member — wishes he had somewhere safe to go, and starts crawling home. He ends up in Equestria. The CMC find him. A year later, an owl brings his Hogwarts’ letter!

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27 — It’s Bigger on the Inside

Ollivanders was a rather small shop, but somehow, as they all filed in, it seemed to accommodate them without overcrowding. A bell tinkled somewhere in the back of the shop. All of them except Professor McGonagall stared around at the thousands of small narrow boxes stacked right to the ceiling and that crowded the shelves behind the counter. It was preternaturally quiet and Harry could hear himself breathing. Magic seemed to fill the small shop thick enough to almost taste.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Startling them all, an old man was abruptly standing behind the counter. His wide, pale, watery eyes shone like silvery moons through the gloom of the shop.

He looked at Harry, but only in passing as he studied each of the Equestrians in turn. His gaze lingered on Twilight. Twilight’s hair seemed to have gained volume and for a moment Harry thought he saw it waving gently, as if in a breeze. But when he blinked and looked again, it wasn’t moving.

Then the old wand-maker spotted Professor McGonagall. “Minerva! Minerva McGonagall! Third time this year, isn’t it? No difficulties with your wand, I trust?”

She gave him a small smile, “Hello as well, Mr. Ollivander. And yes it’s still serving me well. I have five for you today.” She nudged Harry forward.

“Ah yes,” said the old man, turning his gaze on the young boy. “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”*

Mr. Ollivander stepped around the counter. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

“Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it — it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”*

Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

“And that’s where . . . .”

Mr. Ollivander reached toward the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. Harry stepped back. The old man stopped, his finger pointing.

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . .”*

He shook his head sadly.

“Well, Mr. Potter, which is your wand arm?”

Harry frowned, he had to stop and think. After all, he had spent the last year in Equestria on all fours and being left or right handed had been a non-issue because he had used his magic for almost everything that would have involved hands. Finally, he said, “I’m right-handed.”

He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons.”* The mares again shuddered. The Grangers and Professor McGonagall were frowning slightly at the mares’ reactions, clearly wondering why.

“No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.*

“Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander,” Harry said, pulling off his rucksack and setting it on the counter. “I was wondering if you could make me a wand using these.” He pulled a small square of paper from the rucksack and carefully unfolded it. Curled inside were three hairs, each longer than his arm. One of was a deep midnight blue that bordered on black, with occasional bright sparks that randomly drifted into view and then disappeared. The second was a brilliant rainbow of yellows that seemed to glow and pulse with the light of the sun. The third one was a light purple that seemed to shimmer without moving. He then pulled out a long piece of wood, an eighteen-inch long by one-inch diameter piece of a tree branch, which barely fit in the rucksack with all the coins, and placed it beside the paper.

Ollivander was in front of him almost immediately. He stared at the three hairs and the wood.

Harry pulled the ends of the midnight blue and yellow hairs off the paper. “These are from two alicorns, sisters.” He pointed at the third. “That one is also from an alicorn, recently ascended, and unrelated to the other two.” After a brief pause, he added, “An alicorn is a winged unicorn.”

“Yes,” said the old wand-maker quietly.

Harry pointed at the wooden piece on the counter. “And this is from a living tree that housed a library.” Twilight smirked beside Harry. He heard Hermione, behind them, gasp. He twisted and looked back at her, “Twilight and I used to live there.”

There was a second gasp, and a weak, envious, “You lived in a library?”

The wand-maker didn’t appear to be breathing as he stared at the hairs and wood. Carefully, he pushed the purple hair to one side. “This would be incompatible with the other two,” he whispered. Likewise he pushed away the small branch from the remains of the Golden Oaks Library. “No, no,” he said softly, “Only cocobolo wood will do for these two.” He looked up sharply at Harry. “They were freely given?”

Harry nodded, “I didn’t even ask for them, they just sent them to me.”

“Powerful, very powerful,” muttered the old man looking at the hairs. “It will take seven days,” he said looking back up at Harry.

Harry nodded.

“What would you like done with the excess? A wand will only use a third of these lengths.”

Harry shrugged. “You can keep it. I’m sure they don’t want them back.”

The wand-maker slowly nodded, then gently took the two alicorn hairs and set them on a wooden tray he produced from under the counter.

Mr. Ollivander turned to Sweetie Belle, but before he could ask which was her wand arm, she laid a hair on the counter. “This is from a unicorn. I would like to use it.” Rarity was grinning happily. “And it was freely given.” She grinned up at her sister.

Ollivander spent a long time staring at the hair, Sweetie Belle, and Rarity before he nodded respectfully to the mare. “Yes, I can see that it will suit you perfectly,” he said to Sweetie Belle. He carefully wrapped it back up in its paper envelope and placed it on another wooden tray.

Apple Bloom placed one of her sister’s hairs on the counter, with a piece of wood. “This is fresh from the first apple tree planted on our farm by my great-great-great-grandfather. And the hair is from an earth-pony. Both freely given.”

The wand-maker stared at Applejack, who wasn’t bothering to hide her proud smile. He nodded, again respectfully, to the mare. “Yes, a perfect match,” he said to the filly.

Scootaloo was next, placing a bright blue feather and matching hair, both of which seemed to simmer with a rainbow of colours. She said, happily, “A feather and hair from the fastest Pegasus in . . . ,”

Apple Bloom kicked her in the ankle.

“OW! . . . in the world,” she finished awkwardly, glaring at Bloom as she rubbed her ankle.

The old man stared at Rainbow Dash, taking in her outrageous hair style and the way she was bouncing up and down on her toes, grinning like a fool. He slowly nodded.

“We will just need to find the appropriate piece of wood for your wand,” he said to the filly.

He looked over at Pinkie Pie, who was noshing on a muffin she hadn’t had in hand when they walked in. Eyes twinkling, she held out her other hand and offered him a cupcake. Slowly, not taking his eyes off of hers, he reached out and took the pastry. “Thank you,” he whispered.

The Grangers and Professor McGonagall were watching this closely, especially the professor. Harry shook his head slightly at her expression. Hadn’t she seen someone bring in their own magical cores for a wand before?

Hermione stared at the wand boxes behind the counter, and at the four trays and their contents, with a wistful expression. Harry thought she was disappointed at not being able to have a special wand. He remembered how her devotion to books reminded him of Twilight.

He nudged Twilight and handed her the hair and library tree wood and nodded at Hermione. Twilight shrugged, but smiled. She had no use for one of her hairs, and the wood was simply one of the pieces left over from her beloved library. If the young human girl could make use of it in a wand, then Harry couldn’t see why she wouldn’t let the girl do so. It would be her library tree living on, used by someone who loved books as much as she did. Perhaps it would give Hermione as much happiness as the library had given Twilight..

“Hermione,” she said quietly, “here.” She held out both the hair and the wood. “I’d like you to have these, if you want them.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Did that wood really come from a tree with a library in it?” she asked breathlessly as she took the two proffered items.

Twilight nodded. “Yes, it’s over three hundred years old.”

Mr. Granger spoke up, “The tree or the library?”

Twilight smiled again, a bit sadly, “Why, both!”

Hermione turned to her parents, “Can I?”

They shrugged. “Sure,” her father said, “If no one has an objection.”

Ollivander looked at Twilight, “Are you freely giving these gifts to this young witch with your blessings?”

“Of course,” the disguised alicorn said, smiling a bit sadly.

The wand-maker turned to the girl and studied her carefully. He said, “You are receiving a triple-blessed wand, take care of it and it will take care of you.”

She looked back at him, nodding slowly, and frowning at his choice of words.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Ollivander said to the adults, “Come with me,” he said, and indicated Harry, Sweetie, and Scoots as he gathered and stacked the trays, and led them into the back room of the shop.

As they entered the small workshop, he said, “I want each of you to walk along the wall there,” he pointed to one wall of the shop which had dozens of boxes, “and hold your wand arm out over the boxes as you walk by them. There is no hurry. When you feel a pull, note which box it is and keep walking. If you don’t feel any other pulls, go back to the box and bring me the piece of wood that calls out to you the most. If you feel another pull elsewhere, pick the one with the strongest pull.”

As the three slowly walked along the wall, Twilight, who had followed them back, said, “Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander? Could you make me a wand?”

He stared at her, startled. “You want me to make you a wand?”

She smiled nervously, “Yeah, I’d like to experiment with using a wand.”

“Using one of your hairs, of course,” he stated.

“Well, unless there’s a reason I shouldn’t?”

He waved her over to the boxes of wood.

Soon there were four pieces of wood on his worktable.

He took a long look at the first piece. “Ah, Mr. Potter, I knew it would be cocobolo wood for you; sun and moon, capable of handling much power, and very resilient!”

He turned to the next piece of raw wood. “Dogwood for you, Miss Belle; swishy, with an affinity for loyalty and protection.” He nodded his head approvingly. Sweetie Belle blushed under the praise.

“Miss Scootaloo, you have Monterillo; a rare, pliable wood and perfect for those with strength, courage, and determination.” Scootaloo grinned happily.

“And Miss Sparkle, Gaboon Ebony, a truly diverse swishy wood that works well with earth, fire, wind and water — an excellent selection for all magics.” He stared at Twilight for a long moment as Twilight hopped from foot to foot in delight. Harry knew that if she were still a pony she would be doing one of her famous running-in-place dances.

She reached up to her hair, plucked one, and held it out to the wand-maker.

As he took the almost three-foot long hair from her hand it changed from solid black to a purple shimmer as the spell changing her hair colour faded out. He blinked, and then set it reverently beside the piece of wood she had chosen.

“I will start on these this afternoon,” he said softly.

He led them back to the front.

“You may pay me when you pick up your wands. They will be ready in seven days, but not before lunchtime. The cost will be three galleons each, with a one galleon deposit. The extra length of the hairs offsets some of the cost.”

As they were preparing to leave, Mr. Ollivander bowed low to the Equestrian adults and said, “Thank you, for the honour you give me in choosing my humble shop and allowing me to serve you.”

Rarity smiled him, “Thank you for your kind words and excellent service. We will recommend your shop to everypony we know.” She blinked, then said, “I mean everyone we know.”

They began to file outside.

“I need a few words with Mr. Ollivander. School business, you know. I’ll meet you at Truckle’s Trunks, it’s just down the Alley. See it?” Professor McGonagall pointed at the small shop on the other side of the street from them only a short distance away.

Harry and the fillies stopped and watched as Pinkie was about to leave the shop. She paused, then stepped back to the old wand-maker. Harry watched as Pinkie held out her hand, a long pink hair dangling and tightly coiled in a spiral, like a spring. He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “You’ll need this for a wand, you’ll know to whom it belongs.”

Ollivander reached toward it with his thumb and forefinger, but she moved her hand and draped it over his wrist instead. The hair fell and then seemed to wrap around his wrist like a bracelet. She giggled, grabbed Scootaloo’s arm, and pulled the herd-mates out of the shop, hurrying to catch up with the others.

No sooner did the door close than the professor turned to the old wizard.

“What in Merlin’s name was all that about?” she demanded.

“In the almost two thousand and four hundred years that Ollivanders has been making wands,” Ollivander explained tersely, his eyes still looking at his new bracelet, “no god, goddess, or avatar of the same has ever passed through our doors, yet today two goddesses and four avatars walked into my shop. I have no knowledge of anyone ever having an avatar or goddess give them a hair or feather for a wand. Yet today I saw hairs from the Goddesses of the Sun and Moon freely given to Harry Potter for the core of his wand.” He stared at her unblinking. “In addition, the avatars of Air, Earth, and the Muses gave their relatives a feather and hairs, respectively, to use in their wands. A fledgling goddess of Magic gave a hair, and wood from her very home, to a muggle-born.” He continued to stare at Professor McGonagall as her mouth went dry at the implications of what he had just told her. “Plus, the Goddess of Magic wants me to make her a wand!”

He turned from the shocked witch and looked at the cupcake sitting in the middle of his counter, and held up his wrist with its new bracelet. “And the Goddess of Joy has given me two gifts.” He looked back up at her. “Leave. I have much to think about. And do.”

The shop’s magic fairly pushed her to the door. No sooner had she stepped outside than she heard the door close and lock behind her. The curtains on his windows silently slammed shut, and the OPEN sign now read CLOSED.

She had to tell Albus, immediately! She looked around quickly, then quickly cast a silencing spell around herself. Not a moment later a silvery cat was crouched in front of the witch as she bent down to speak to it.

As the cat bounded out of sight, the professor briefly pressed her hand to her forehead. She could feel the onset of a headache. She sighed and dismissed the silencing spell. She looked up the street and started off towards the groups’ next stop.

۸- ̰ -۸

Truckle’s Trunks, like everything else in the Alley, looked like a small dingy shabby shop from the outside, yet the inside was bigger and brighter than one could expect. There were stacks of trunks everywhere. One wall had a stack from floor to ceiling of what appeared to be the same style trunk: black with wooden rails around the edges at the ends and two around the middle. There was one open on the floor and it looked to be about three by two by one foot in size with a handle at each end. It had a small sign that simply read, “Hogwarts.”

There were other smaller stacks of three or four on the opposite wall with another stack in the middle of the room. What differentiated those trunks, though, were the signs. “Closet,” “Single with Closet,” “Two Rooms,” and “Deluxe Apartment,” were the ones he could immediately pick out before the shop-clerk arrived in answer to the door’s bell.

“Good morning,” he happily proclaimed. “I’m Mister Truckle, the proprietor of this fine establishment.” He grinned happily at seeing so many customers at once.

Twilight spoke up first. “Hi! I’m Twilight Sparkle . . . ,” and she proceeded to introduce everyone. “Professor McGonagall will be joining us in a moment, she said this was the next stop for the day.”

“Excellent!” the shopkeeper said, “How many of you need a Hogwarts’ trunk? Five?” he said, looking at the children as he walked over to the wall with all the trunks.

Twilight nodded. “Yes.”

He pulled out his wand and started to levitate the trunks down.

“Excuse me,” interrupted Rarity, “Could you tell me more about these?” She waved at the other trunk stacks.

Professor McGonagall walked in then, and nodded in greeting to the others.

He finished pulling down the five trunks and walked over to her. “These trunks,” he explained, “all have extensive undetectable expansion charms cast on them. They are for the more seasoned traveller who expects to be places where appropriate accommodations might not be available, or they need more room for their things than would normally fit in a standard trunk.” He smiled at her. “There are even a few full apartments,” he pointed at the stack with the sign that said Deluxe Apartments, “for the intrepid traveller who strays far from the normal paths but wants comfortable accommodations regardless of their surroundings. A literal home-away-from-home.”

Rarity cast a glance at the other mares. “We could have used one of those a couple of times in the last two years, right ladies?” She walked over to the Deluxe Apartment stack with Mr. Truckle following eagerly behind her.

“These all have a sitting-room, bedroom, closet, full bathroom with shower and tub, and kitchen with all the modern Wizarding appliances.” He slipped into sales mode. “I can adjust the room sizes to your needs. The room colours can be altered as you please. Every trunk has impervious charms on it, as well as full security charms. Only people you authorize can enter it, and you can’t be locked inside. Runes provide for air, water, and the disposal of wastes.

“They come with feather-weight charms for easy carrying, as well as shrinking charms for even easier transport.” He looked at Rarity expectantly. “And all at reasonable rates.”

Sweetie Belle looked up at her sister. “You always say to go with quality and get the best, as scrimping now will simply cost you more, later.” She stopped a beat as her sister nodded. “We should each get one as well. They’ll be real convenient back home.” Sweetie looked over at the shopkeeper. “We’ll need extra-large bathtubs, though.” She made a face. “I have no doubt we’ll run into problems cleaning off sap if we don’t.” The other fillies and Harry nodded agreement while the Grangers, the professor, and the shopkeeper looked puzzled.

Sensing an opportunity, and after an odd look at Sweetie Belle, the wizard said to Rarity, “If you intend to buy several, I can install a private Floo-network that would allow you to travel between the trunks as long as there isn’t an anti-Floo spell imposed between them. That way, no matter how far apart you are, you can always meet up with each other at your convenience.”

Rarity looked at Twilight with wide eyes. “You could put one of these at the your parent's house, keep the other in your castle, and be able to see your parents or Princess Celestia whenever you want! No more long train trips.”

“Or visit the Royal Library,” Twilight breathed out. She started hopping in place again.

Applejack laughed, “Or your brother in the Crystal Empire!”

They all turned wide-eyed expressions on Applejack. “Or your cousins in Appleoosa,” replied Rarity.

“So,” Rarity said slowly, “Twilight needs three, Applejack needs two, Fluttershy needs one, I need one, Pinkie Pie needs one . . . ,”

“Three,” called Pinkie, poking her head out of one of the Hogwarts trunks still stacked against the wall, “I want one for Maude and one for my family on our rock farm.”

“Pinkie needs three, and Rainbow Dash needs one, and the Princesses need two — it would be terribly gauche to give one to Princess Celestia and not to Princess Luna as well. And Harry and the fillies need four total.”

Rainbow Dash said, “Why would I need one, I’m the fastest —”

Without looking and keeping her smile, Twilight kicked Dash in the ankle, making Dash yelp.

Rarity spoke up, “Dash, there might be times you want to visit one of us without spending hours racing across the country.”

Rainbow Dash, bent down and rubbed her sore ankle, scowling. She said, “Well, still, it’s gonna be expensive and . . . .”

“Aren’t you forgetting,” interrupted Twilight, “that the Princesses are paying for this?”

“Ah,” said Dash, looking chagrined, “yes.”

“I’m sorry,” interrupted the shopkeeper, “But any trunks purchased for Hogwarts’ students are not allowed to have functioning Floo connections and must include the Hogwarts Lockout.”

They all looked at him, the questions evident in their expressions.

“The Floo restriction is a security issue for Hogwarts, you see,” he said with a nervous look and smile at Professor McGonagall, “and the Hogwarts’ Lockout means only one student at a time can be in the trunk.”

“Why only one student,” asked Sweetie Belle, “What if we want to study together? Or take a bath?” she spared a glance at the professor who was keeping a carefully nondescript expression. “I’m positive that we’ll end up in sap sometime in the next seven years and trying to get it off by yourself is well-neigh impossible.” The Equestrians and Harry all nodded, while the others, again, looked puzzled.

“Oh, well,” Truckle said, looking uncomfortable. “It’s to prevent students from doing things they shouldn’t.”

Again he was on the receiving end of puzzled expressions. Harry thought the professor was trying not to smile at Truckle’s difficulties.

“You know,” he tried again, “for the older students? So they don’t get together for inappropriate activities?”

Mr Granger raised his eyebrows. He seemed to be getting an inkling of what the wizard was trying to impart.

Another round of blank expressions led the shopkeeper to continue, “Um, snogging? Sucking face? Tonsil tennis?” he suggested weakly.

The Grangers understood the snogging reference, with the parents nodding and Hermione saying, “Ewww,” and making a face of disgust.

The Equestrians were still puzzled.

Finally, in a half whisper and a nervous glance at the younger customers, he leaned closer to the adults and half-whispered, “Sex.”

The mares all looked at each other and said, “Ooohh!” Then they looked over at the fillies and Harry with curious expressions.

The fillies looked at each other, then at Harry with calculating expressions. Harry meanwhile, said, “Oookaayy,” with a wondering and puzzled expression.

Public courting between mares and stallions was common in Equestria — with a ratio of three mares to every stallion it was usually the mares chasing the stallions. And being very forward about it. Unlike Earth, the stallions were the shy and retiring ones in relationships, waiting for the mares to make the first moves and run the relationships. And seeing two, three, or even four mares courting a stallion wasn’t unusual. Nothing inappropriate — or at least what ponies considered inappropriate — ever happened in public, of course. But Harry knew of several fillies and colts exploring whether they had found their special somepony yet. He considered himself fortunate that the fillies were keeping themselves to the “trying to carry his books” stage.

Not that he disliked any of them, he liked them a lot, as a matter of fact. He just knew he wasn’t ready for anything more than that. And waking in a pony pile during sleepovers at the clubhouse was something he enjoyed doing — it was comforting to not be isolated and alone all night. Getting his own room in the castle had been a mixed blessing. His own room, but alone all night without the reassuring presence of either Spike or Twilight.

Having to choose one of the three would be impossible. And he was terrified that if he chose one, then the other two would hate him. It was better not to think on it at all.

For some reason, Twilight and the other mares were snickering.

۸-_-۸

Author's Note:

A.N. * italics followed by an asterisk are quotes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

This chapter will engender much debate, I don't doubt. So, for your consideration:

A. Alicorns are apparently immortal.

B. Celestia and Luna can control the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars in their universe.

C. Twilight is apparently the alicorn in control of magic.

D. Pinkie Pie, while not an alicorn, can do things that none of the alicorns can do, or even understand (breaking the Fourth Wall and causality).

By most definitions used by humans, and with the conditions set in A–D above, those ponies mentioned in A–D would be considered gods.

And, finally, just because someone states something is true (in the story) does not necessarily make it so. Ponies, wizards, witches, and people can be mistaken about what they perceive the truth to be.

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