• Published 11th Apr 2018
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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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81 — Riddles

Harry and the girls paused on seeing the three additional adults in the Headmaster’s office, then continued.

“Ah, Mr. Potter, Miss Scootaloo, Miss Bloom, Miss Belle, do come in.” The Headmaster turned from his guests to face the students just arriving. “I only asked Mr. Potter here, but the rest of you coming with him is most fortuitous” He saw where they were all looking and smiled genially at them. “Miss Bonbon and Miss Heartstrings are here at Princess Sparkle’s request,” he said.

The two Equestrians eyed the Cutie Mark Crusaders suspiciously as the CMC returned the favour. For their part, the adult Equestrians were clearly surprised at seeing the four purple students. Harry could see they were visibly restraining themselves.

“Good Morning, Miss Bonbon, Miss Heartstrings,” the four carolled cautiously. They all knew each other quite well. The students wondered why the two ponies were here. They weren’t in trouble, were they?

“This is Miss Rita Skeeter, one of the lead reporter’s at the Daily Prophet, and her photographer, Mr. Bozo,” he explained to the four students, indicating the garishly-clad Rita and waving them forward and to the chairs he had just conjured for them. “Miss Skeeter, I would like to present the three foreign students you’ve no doubt heard much about, as well as Harry Potter.”

The witch stood as she was introduced, and stepped close to them. She was tall and wore green leather robes with maroon furs at the collar and sleeves. She had blonde hair set in elaborate curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. Her blonde curls were curiously rigid, suggesting her hair was styled with magic. She wore spectacles studded with gemstones — Harry assumed the gems were real. She had pencilled-on eyebrows and three gold teeth. Rarity would have been horrified at the reporter’s appearance.

Harry noticed, as she shook his hand, that she had thick fingers ending in two-inch nails, giving the impression of claws or talons. That the fingernails were painted crimson added to the effect.

The three girls protectively moved closer to him, eyeing her as a potential predator, scowling at her leather-based clothing. She noticed their reactions and gave him a sharp smile before retreating to her chair.

She reached down into her a crocodile-skin handbag, and took out an acid-green coloured quill.

Across from her and beside the Headmaster’s desk stood a large, tripod-mounted, black box-camera that was smoking slightly. It was positioned to catch a flattering position of the reporter talking with Dumbledore, which Bozo, a paunchy man, was now rearranging to get pictures of the students.

Harry assumed that he had already taken a few pictures of the others in the room.

“I don’t think we need anything as special as a Quick-Quotes Quill, Miss Skeeter,” said the Headmaster.

She gave him a long look, during which he tilted his head, eyes-twinkling, as he raised an eyebrow.

She sighed, and put the quill back in her purse, pulling out a normal looking quill. She smiled, resembling a wolf smiling at his next dinner, as she stared at the four students.

“First,” she said, “Why are you all purple?”

The students looked at each other, wondering how to answer, then the Headmaster spoke up.

“A potion accident,” he said jovially. “I’m sure it will wear off in a short time.”

Rita nodded, she had certainly seen her fair share of accidents in the Potions classroom. She turned her attention back to Harry.

The reporter started with, “I’d like to say how much I appreciate your part in the vanishing of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I realize, Harry — you don’t mind me calling you Harry, do you?”

The girls and Harry exchanged looks, then he cautiously said, “No, I don’t mind.”

“Wonderful,” Skeeter said, her smile getting just a tad bigger, “As I started to say, I realize this meant the death of your parents, and I am sorry that happened. But it did save the wizarding world from falling into Darkness. And that meant a lot to many people.”

Harry glanced at the girls, but said nothing.

“And then, you disappeared from wizarding society. People have been wondering where you were — were you really with your relatives, as some have recently suggested? And if you weren’t with a wizarding family, how did you meet your friends?” She glanced significantly at the three girls. “Who are obviously witches.”

Harry stared at her for a time, his brow wrinkled as he thought of how to respond. Finally, he said, “I don’t want to talk about my relatives. Someone might decide to confront them, and that would not end well. Just say that I did, indeed, live with my relatives. While I lived with them, they never mentioned the wizarding world at all. Which made it quite a surprise when I discovered magic was real.”

“Really?” they reporter said. “They never mentioned it at all?”

He shook his head. “They . . . disliked magic. Any magical accidents they either ignored or blamed on something else. They never explained.” He did not add that the blame usually fell on him, regardless of whether or not magic was involved in the accident. If they didn’t like the result, then it was his fault.

She stared at him a long time as he blankly stared back.

After talking with a pony who could obliterate entire mountains with a thought, and had imprisoned her sister in the Moon for a thousand years, Rita didn’t frighten him in the least.

Finally, she said, “How did you meet your friends?”

“I found my friends, here,” he nodded at the girls, “by accident, about,” he paused to think, “fourteen? Fifteen? I think it’s fifteen months ago. The girls . . . ,” he glanced at them and smiled.

They smiled back, proudly,

“. . . probably saved my life. So, I owe them a lot.”

The girls blushed.

“ ‘Twasn’t nothing,” murmured Apple Bloom.

“Anyway, once they found me, they got me to a hospital, and I ended up staying with Princess Twilight — but she wasn’t a princess then — in Ponyville.”

“You were hurt?” probed Rita eagerly.

The rest of the interview took over an hour. And not all of it was focused on Harry.

۸-~

Castor’s day started badly.

Ever since his assignment as the “go-to” person for the Equestrians, he had been officially put on the Harry Potter case. To his regret. And once he had learned of the wizards . . . that meant that he had been rather quickly brought up to date on the entire Harry Potter, Saviour of Wizardkind situation. And how he had gotten that title. And the problems it was going to cause in the wizarding world if the wizards ever caught wind of the truth about the Dursleys and how they had treated Harry Potter.

Crown Prosecutor Cindy Morrow was on the other end of the phone.

“We have a problem with the Dursley case,” she said as soon as he had answered the phone. “They’re obviously going for an insanity defence, with mitigating circumstances. Yesterday, in an interview, he said . . . ,”

۸-_-۸

“Look, I don’t care what you think. A barmy old man dropped the kid off at our door ten years ago. And I mean that literally! Petunia got up to get the paper and set out the empty milk-bottles on the doorstep and there he was — in a basket with a note!”

Cindy leaned back in her chair, raising any eyebrow in disbelief.

“It’s true,” he said defensively. “If I’d known how much trouble the boy would be, I would’ve left him there for the milk-man!


John Creevey paused and shivered as he was unloading the empties from his milk float at the dairy. He looked around to see what had provoked that reaction. There was nothing unusual in sight, so he shrugged and went back to work.


“But, no, Petunia just had to bring him inside! For her bloody sister’s sake, she said,” Vernon continued bitterly.

“There was a letter stuffed in the basket. It said the boy’s parents had been killed by a terrorist and that we had to bring him up. He justified it by saying that having him in the house would protect us from the terrorist, somehow! Lying freaks!” he practically spit out. “And Petunia believed what the letter said, which was worse.”

He scowled at the table-top in front of him.

“That boy’s father told me at their wedding that he was rich, had gold in the bank, he said he did . . . didn’t have to work, he said. HA!” said Vernon derisively. “Not a farthing of that was in the basket to help us!” he concluded. “Wastrel, he was, wasted all that money . . . if he ever had any to start with! Freakish magician that he was!” He crossed his arms angrily and stared at her.

“We have the transfer papers in hand,” the prosecutor said. “According to them, Harry Potter was brought to your domicile on November Second, 1981, by a Sergeant Andrew Francis and Caseworker Peter New.”

He nodded, “Only if they dropped the freak off before dawn!”

“With signatures.”

“Forged,” he said with disgust.

She studied him carefully. “And no one ever checked up on his wellbeing?”

He snorted. “Like anyone cared. I’m sure one those freaks’ friends made the paperwork look golden. No one ever came by. Or contacted us.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you saying the paperwork is flawed?”

“Ha! Flawed, she says.” He rolled his eyes. “Complete fabrications, more like it.”

He leaned forward, one arm on the table-top, “Tell me, what have you found on the freak’s father? Where was James Potter born, huh? Where did he go to school?” The angry man leaned back, “Bet you can find everything about me and Petunia, you can. But her sister? I bet it all stops when she turned eleven. As if she disappeared from your world, the bloody scrubber.”

He snorted crossly. “It’s all those freaks fault. If not for them, none of this would have happened. Bloody damn daft magicians.” He scowled heavily at the table-top.

۸-_-۸

“And then he clammed up. Not another word.” Cindy sighed.

“Sorry to bother you with this, but the thing is,” she continued after a moment, “that what he said about the parents does check out. There’s not a trace of James Potter in the birth, marriage, or death records. The address listed on Harry Potter’s birth certificate is fake, for both the mother and father. And the mother disappears off the radar at age eleven. There’s just a note that she went to a private secondary school in Scotland. But her school records just cease with primary. And she, too, doesn’t have an official marriage or death record.

“And Social Services doesn’t have any other records except to note the ‘accidental’ death of Harry Potter’s parents, with a date, and the infant being transferred to the Dursley’s on November Second, 1981.

Castor sighed and ran his palm over his face. “Right.” He stood quiet for a moment, then said, “Let me do some work on this. Mr. Potter was . . . well . . . a government agent. The accident wasn’t an accident, but a terrorist attack in which both the parents and the head terrorist were killed. The trail to Harry Potter’s father is deliberately vague to throw off any attempt by the terrorists’ organization to backtrack and retaliate.”

She was silent for a moment. “There is a chance they would do that after all this time?”

He sighed heavily, “Yes.” He thought for a moment. “We want to keep this whole trial on track as normally as possible. We don’t want any publicity that might bring this to the terrorists’ attention.” He thought for a few moments, then nodded. “Arrange another meeting tomorrow afternoon with Mr. Dursley.”

He started to say goodbye when he had another thought. “By the way, the code words are wizard or obliviate. If you hear anyone mention those words, leave immediately, and call me.”

۸-_-۸

Castor leaned forward over the table and said in a half-whisper, “Look, you do not want to bring the wizards in on this! They don’t realize you had anything to do with Harry Potter, much less what the evidence we have on you shows you did to the boy.” He deliberately did not glance at the jammer in his pocket. “Mention the word magic too many times and they’ll be here, officially, and they’ll take the piss out of you right quick! Involve them, and no one will ever hear of you again. Nor your wife and child! Not when it concerns a magical child.”

The man stared at him, aghast. “They wouldn’t dare!” he thundered.

Castor rolled his eyes. “They would, and then make everyone forget everything they knew about you!”

Vernon narrowed his eyes. “You’re one of them,” he accused, leaning back as far as he could.

Castor again rolled his eyes. “If I were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be having a heart-attack and I’d be leaving the building and no one would ever be wiser.

“And tomorrow, no one would even remember I had been here or scheduled this appointment.”

Vernon glanced nervously at the mirrored window behind Castor.

“And all the video shows is us talking. We never came close enough for me to give you something, and there wouldn’t be a mark on your body.”

Grasping at straws, Dursley said, “The audio, it has us talking!”

“About which football team we like and their chances in the World Cup.” Castor patted his pocket, and nodded slightly.

“Look,” the former policeman said quietly and urgently, “I’m doing you a favour. Just shut up about the wizards and let things go the way they’re supposed to go. You and you wife abused a child. We have incontrovertible evidence of it.”

“But he’s one of those freaks!” Vernon hissed back at him.

“As far as the law is concerned,” Castor stated calmly, “he was a child in your custody.”

“And if I don’t?” Vernon hissed belligerently.

“Then when the wizards hear about you, they come here and question you. They learn of the charges and evidence we have. They will claim it is a wizard matter, take you to their prison, and you’ll disappear, as will your wife and your son.” Castor leaned back. “Your call.”

After a moment’s silence, Dursley slowly nodded. Castor stood. “That’s all I have to say.” He left the room, with Dursley looking extremely angry and upset.

He stepped into the next room to meet with the prosecutor. “With any luck, you won’t have any more problems with Dursley, except his stupid contention that the boy somehow ‘deserved’ it.”

Cindy nodded, taking the folder. “I’ll let you know how the case goes.” She paused, then handed him the tape from the interview they had just completed. Officially, he had never been there.

Castor hoped the man could control his temper. Otherwise they were all in for a hard time.

“On another topic, I was able to pull a few strings,” Castor explained to the prosecutor. “Here’s the real paperwork on James Potter and his family. The addresses are to businesses or vacant lots, now, as the original buildings were destroyed by the terrorists ten years ago. The causes are all explained as gas mishaps. The hospital birth and death certificates are in the folder, as is the marriage certificate. The minister who presided over the marriage has passed on. The judge on the coroner’s inquest is retired in a nursing home. He has dementia, unfortunately.”

And doing all that had required some very fancy footwork by M.I. Five! Finding where Harry Potter’s parents had died had been a total bastard, but cross-referencing to the town where his parents were reported to have lived, Godric’s Hollow, and “gas explosions” from the same time period had given them several options.

He sighed. “Harry Potter is listed as the inheritor of the Potter properties. The government will keep watch over them until he is of age. Because of his service to the crown, income has all been put into a bank account for Harry when he reaches his majority.”

Another bit of fancy work.

She nodded, then looked into the now empty room. “Well, I hope this gets settled quickly.” She shuddered and shook her head. “It’s bad enough to think any parent would treat the child of a sister so, but it’s even harder to understand why a terrorist would go after a child for revenge against the child’s dead parents.”

Castor agreed completely with that sentiment, and told her so.

۸-_-۸

After spending a rainy Sunday mostly in their dorm or the new library rooms, working on homework and playing games, the Gryffindors were not happy to see that Monday started as another rainy day.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder why the Daily Prophet didn’t run a story about him. He shrugged it off. It wasn’t that important to him.

By now, the school had acclimated to seeing the purple students. And the day passed without any disasters, although some of the older Gryffindor students seemed awfully interested in where the Gryffindor Firsties occasionally disappeared to — without using the Common Room’s entrance to the rest of Hogwarts.

And exactly where was Harry getting snacks from during the day, he overheard a few wondering. The elves were forbidden to obey orders from students — they all knew that now — so he couldn’t be asking them to bring him food.

At Tuesday’s breakfast, the owl parliament was just as large as always, and the students had good practice at using their shielding charms, almost without even thinking about it. Set and forget seemed to be the rule in that regard. Especially the Gryffindor Firsties. And Tuesday passed quietly with studying and practicing magic. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were especially entranced at the ability to do magic, something they had never, ever, thought possible. Seeing his three friends playing with magic was gratifying to Harry — they weren’t Cutie Mark Crusading!

Wednesday started a bit differently.

With the owls came the Daily Prophet. With Skeeter’s front-page article. Muggles Abuse Harry Potter! screamed the banner headline. The article was mostly fantasy, but it did contain some of the truth, Harry was unhappy to see — a few of the guesses were uncomfortably accurate. Fortunately, for the Dursleys’ at least, the article did not single them out as perpetrators of the abuse. While it didn’t mention his cupboard, it did mention his being the victim of a gang. However, the article did recount tales of other wizards and witches being targeted by muggles, and wondering how much of that had been directed at Harry, as well. It was not a kind article to the muggles.

Below the main article were several other articles. One focused on his historic defiance of the killing curse, and his role as the saviour of wizarding England. It was mostly fantasy about what happened that October 31st night. Which he continually groused about to his friends and anyone else who would listen.

After all, the only person to survive the confrontation was himself. And no one had ever asked him what had happened that night, either! Not that it would have helped as he was certainly too young to consciously remember anything, anyway.

Mentioned at the end, however, was another article that had details about his parents which he was more than eager to read. The elements about his pure-blood father were disturbing to Harry, however. The descriptions of his antics with his friends Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew sounded suspiciously like Dudley’s gang. They were not as physical as what Dudley had done, but they definitely, in Harry’s opinion, treaded the line on cruelty, even if the story did play them off as “youthful exuberance” and “pranks.”

The article wasn’t nearly as complimentary about his muggle-born mother, mentioning her Hogwarts achievements — Slughorn Club, Prefect, Head Girl, and brilliant transfigurations scores — in terms that were not nearly as glowing as his father’s less impressive accomplishments.

Somehow, they made his successes appear more important that hers, even though hers were more notable.

It was a shock to see that his father had been friends with their new History professor. He would have to hunt the wizard up for more stories. Maybe the professor even had some stories on Neville’s parents? Harry would find out.

A third article, by far the longest, focused on Harry’s time at Hogwarts and was reasonably correct. And contained quite a few details on Sweetie Belle’s inadvertent gender-swap and love potions, and their aftermaths. Both were played as normal Hogwarts’ horse-play (which was used deliberately as a pun as the actual chasers and chased in the love-potion incident had all been ponies). Far too many had seen them racing around the school for there to be any doubt about what had happened.

The last article focused on his relationship with the three fillies. While he had tried not to say exactly why he had needed to go to a hospital when they had first found him, the article unfortunately, and accurately, blamed muggles. Rita had cast the fillies in the roles of brave saviours, somehow sensing his needs and rescuing him.

That article was the most embarrassing, Harry thought, as it was mostly built on speculation and innuendo. And repeated the love potion incident with the slant that maybe it hadn’t been all that accidental. Good, clean fun as far as the wizards and witches were concerned, but maybe not all that much an accident. The insinuation that he was in the middle of a love quadrangle left him breathless.

Didn’t she understand they were his friends? Choosing one above the others would be a disaster. And probably leave him alone and friendless.

There was even an article buried in the back about the Equestrians, including the embarrassing list of things the Gryffindors were not allowed to do because of them!

It appeared this particular list was limited to the Gryffindor House, although how the reporter had found it was unknown. Probably one of the other students had told his or her parents and they had relayed the story hoping to curry favour with the reporter. Considering the reporter’s reputation, from what the older half-blood students told them, she could be quite vicious if she wanted. Having her thank you for information was not a bad idea.

And the article repeated the Headmaster’s suspicion that the Equestrians were from Atlantis. Either the Headmaster had let that slip to someone other than Mr. Weasley or they had reached that incorrect conclusion themselves. Harry hoped that when the truth came out — that they were from an entirely different world — that the wizards and witches wouldn’t be too upset. Although, from what he had seen, would they even believe the Equestrians? Proving the portal led to another universe and not just another land would be difficult. Unless Celestia or Luna played with the sun and moon, again. Or Discord got involved. That last made him shudder. Perhaps he should mention that error on where they came from to Twilight so she could straighten things out?

Still, overall, the articles were a positive slant on Harry, the fillies, and the Equestrians.

And, based on conversations he overheard from others, everyone agreed with that sentiment — except the Slytherins.

He did notice at dinner that evening, however, that the Gryffindors and Slytherins were a lot less purple than they had been. It was more noticeable on the Slytherins because they had been farthest from the incident.

۸-~

Elly decided she had waited long enough. When no one was looking she transformed into one of the witches she had seen earlier in the week. For a moment, she didn’t move, waiting for a reaction from the emotional lake around her. Nothing changed. Smiling to herself, she picked up her bag and slowly walked towards the Goblin bank.

She had had plenty of time to watch them. Their default emotion seemed to be one of disgust at the wizards and witches as they entered the bank. Though the goblins bowed as they opened the doors, they were hiding their true feeling behind calm expressions. Gaining love from them would be a chore, and she was unsure if it would even be worth the effort.

They bowed to her, as well, without the slightest change that she could detect. She had fooled them into thinking she was a witch.

A second set opened the inner doors, which had a legend of warning over them. She mentally resisted rolling her eyes after taking it in. She had no interest in robbing the goblins.

Even as late in the evening as it was, the bank was busy. About twenty more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses.

Smiling, she queued up at a short line. After a minimal wait, she was at the front of the line. “Good evening, sir,” she said politely. She placed her bag on the counter and began scooping out the gold coins. “I would like to exchange these for the proper coins of the realm.”

The goblin watched impassively as she built a pile of coins. He sighed, in a much put-upon manner, grumbled and scowled, and pulled up a scale. He started stacking the coins and measuring them, continuously mumbling under his breath.

While he did that, she again reached into the bag and began pulling out the gems she had collected from Rarity. She thought it rather ironic that the Element of Generosity was funding her new start on this world. Even if it was unintentional.

The goblin stopped his counting when she placed the three magic-bearing gems on his counter alongside the others. He blinked once, then signalled another goblin. He looked up at her. “I am not qualified to handle those gems,” he stated. He quickly swept the all the gems into a different bag, which he gave to the goblin now standing, waiting. He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it, as well, to the other goblin.

“Take these, and her, to Master Knifethrower.” He turned back to her. “I will have your coinage ready for you when you return to the lobby.”

Nodding as she hid her uncertainty, she turned and quickly followed the goblin deeper into the bank.

۸-~

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