Flying Wizards
All the way out to the quidditch pitch I looked at the glasses. The frame was made of some kind of wood, but it was harder than wood—almost like stone. The lenses themselves were rough, and I could see where they'd been polished with something that had left no marks on them except at the edges of the glass.
I turned them over again and again to work out what it was about them that made them so light—even the best glasses I'd seen weren't this light.
On my back was my backpack—tied very loosely. I didn't want to be stuck with my broom and glasses if I felt the desire to self-immolate again.
"'Ere 'e is. The smallest seeker in all of quidditch history!" either Fred or George said.
I slipped my new glasses on and noticed the freckles of George Weasley as the one who'd spoken. "Yeah, that's because I only have to focus on the smallest ball. If I was after a quaffle, I'd need to be bigger."
"He's got you there, George," Fred said. "What I don't understand is how you plan to catch the snitch? It's small and all, but you're kinda lackin' in the hand department."
The glasses weren't perfect, for all they were precisely made. The left lens had a slight imperfection at the bottom of my field of view, and the right one had a dot of something in the middle. I wondered if Snape had put those in to encourage me to work out how to make them myself.
"I've got that sorted, boys." Oliver Wood walked over and opened his schoolbag to reveal a baseball glove. "One of the fourth years gave me this to use. Muggleborn, of course, but how else are ya gonna get a muggle solution? Do you think you can work a Locomotion charm on this, Harry?"
"That's perfect!" I couldn't help myself and pronked in excitement. "Yes! I can cast that charm and—Wait, what about my broom?"
"Yeah, Oliver!" George shoved the team captain in the shoulder but given his size, Oliver barely shifted. "How's 'Arry going to ride 'is broom?"
Oliver leaned sideways and shoved George aside. "I left that up to the As and Lav. Girls, what you got?"
It was Angelina who walked toward me with the biggest grin. She held something behind her back and had the devil in her eyes. "get your broom out, Harry, and close your eyes."
I made the supreme mistake of looking at Alicia when she stepped out from behind the stand to my right. "If you think I—"
Humans can move very fast when they had a need to. Angelina was in prime physical condition thanks to the excellent physical fitness regime of Oliver's (mostly just running tons of laps of the quidditch pitch and doing push-ups).
Sadly, I did not move as fast as Angelina. She grabbed hold of me and turned to look at Alicia. "Get his bag off and grab his broom!"
I could have ignited myself. Rats seemed immune to my flames, but I hadn't been particularly annoyed at the rat earlier. I tried to look around to see what Alicia was doing when she got the broom under me. "Hey, caref—"
The sound of tearing caused my ears to stand up straight. Despite my ensuing flailing, I had no chance of avoiding the fate. The sensation of the gaffer tape as it wrapped around my body and the broom made me cringe. Around and around it went, Angelina not holding back until the broom was firmly attached.
I stopped fighting and dampened down my anger by remembering Snape telling—or trying to tell—jokes. "Was this really necessary?"
Alicia was giggling almost non-stop. "Yes!" she managed between laughs.
"To be fair, Harry, you wouldn't have agreed to it if we'd told you what we were going to do." Angelina gestured behind me. "And for the record, it was Lav's idea."
"Hey! You said if I let you tape him to his broom, you wouldn't tell him that!" Katie looked annoyed, but she was fighting to hold back an obvious grin. "Besides, Harry, you can get it off easily enough. Cut your broom free and then just use fire."
Katie, I realized, had a real talent for being a witch. She probably also had talent for being a kirin, but I don't think McGonagall would be happy if I turned another student into a kirin, and besides, I don't actually know how I turned Snape into one. "You're all lucky I'm taped to my broom or I'd check Snape's idea that kirin fire doesn't burn living things."
"It doesn't? Then why did it burn Snape?" Oliver asked. "Look, forget about that. Just don't burn anything when you're playing, okay?"
"Unless a bludger hits him, right?" George asked.
"Yeah!" Fred gave his brother instant support. "I've been 'it by a bludger enough that just seein' 'em gets me angry. 'Arry, if you see a bludger comin' for you, burn it."
"Right!" George said.
"Enough of that, you two. Everyone get on your brooms!" Oliver was in his element, and when Oliver is in his element, brooms and balls are involved.
"Wait. If I'm flying, who's going to be covering for us?" I asked.
"I am!" There was no warning before Madam Hooch swooped down and plowed four ditches in the ground with her hooves before she came to a stop. "Err, I can fix that later." I had to give it to her, her wings looked amazing. She folded them up at her sides and turned—then fell over.
It was a rookie mistake. "You need to turn with all four legs. Maybe I need to teach that class tomorrow?" I asked.
"What, 'Ow to Neigh by Harry Potter?"
"No, no! It'd be Horsin' Around!"
I glared at George and Fred, not that it would do any good. Greater people—wizards, witches, and muggles—than I had tried and failed to suppress either of them, but together they were unstoppable. Turning back to look at Hooch, I saw the excitement twinkling in her eyes and noticed she almost couldn't stand still—a wing or hoof would twitch and she'd move about.
In short, she looked excited and full of energy. Having the first time I'd ridden a broom less than two full years ago, I could well remember what that was like and could understand why she looked ready to pronk.
"Madam Hooch, can we start practicing so these two will shut up?" Oliver asked.
Fumbling with a hoof a few times, Hooch wound up using one of her wings to pull her whistle up to her mouth. "Mount up!" I guess she hadn't really looked at me since arriving, because when she glanced down she froze. "Well, everyone except Harry. I see a solution was found for your falling off your broom."
The whole team giggled—even Oliver. I stuck out my tongue at them and willed my broom into the air. Flying was just as good as I remembered it being, even taped to my broom. Awareness of my team taking off slipped away and I did a series of loops that had me shouting for the pure excitement of it.
Fred and George slipped up on each side of me and hemmed me in to flying straight. I looked at each of them, shouted a laugh, and did a loop-the-loop.
"Harry!" Oliver's shout cut through the thudding of my heart in my ears, and I finally worked out that I was meant to be training with the team. "Harry, get over here!"
I didn't feel the least bit sorry for my excitement as I flew over to the group. Oliver looked just about as happy as I felt, and even the As and Katie seemed excited to be practicing as a full team again. Realization struck me about how much I'd been missing without my glasses. Even the imperfect ones I was wearing let me pick the difference between the twins, catch Alicia looking at Fred, and even see the excitement in Katie's grin.
"Alright, same teams as last practice. Harry, you'll be our seeker. We'll play with a bludger, so keep an eye out for it." Oliver circled his broom around and headed for the goals. "Madam Hooch! Can you release a quaffle, a bludger, and a snitch?!"
Looking down, Hooch looked about as excited as any pony I'd ever seen, even the fillies that we—My brain did an about-face. I hadn't seen the foals for a while and wondered where they were.
"Harry! Look out!" Katie's shout, and the discipline of two years of quidditch practice, saved me as I jinked my broom sideways as the bludger came rushing through the spot where I'd just been.
The bludger had been intentional, I realized. With it zooming up at me, I had to take my eyes off the snitch that Hooch also released. Soaring up above the practice game, I scanned around looking for the snitch, only to spot the bludger coming at me again.
This time, however, Fred was already positioned to deflect it back down. "What you doin', George? You call that a strike?"
"'Arry's gotta be on his toes—err—hooves!" George seemed completely unrepentant, and I had to agree that sending a bludger or two my way did make it seem more like an actual game.
Scanning for movement, I flew a circle pattern around high above the pitch below. I couldn't see the snitch, but I did see movement in the stands. Two ponies had arrived and settled onto a bench beside each other. I watched them for a few moments picking out the pegasus who'd been our mission earlier, and the unicorn that'd given Hermione a quick rundown on horns.
I shook my head to clear it of the distraction, and from one head-shake to the next I spotted the snitch. Willing my broom to pitch forward, I entered a steep dive with my glove held out before me.
"George! The snitch!" Alicia said while pointing at the tiny golden ball.
George, who was shepherding the bludger with his bat (probably looking for a good opportunity to send it my way again, swung and hit the angry black ball with a thump, sending it at the snitch! "Gotta work harder than that, Harry!"
The bludger shot through the air faster than I could, and reached the snitch a moment before I got my glove on it. I tried to track the golden arc the snitch took off in, but a sense of danger made me look back in time to see the bludger slam the wall and bounce right back for me.
"Hold it!"
Oliver's shout didn't distract me from the bludger—if I had turned my attention elsewhere it'd smash my broom and me into several pieces (probably still taped together, mind you). I ducked and pushed sideways into a spiral around the path the bludger was taking, and it whistled past my ear.
George and Fred ganged up on the bludger and between them caught it and wrestled it to the ground and into the chest beside Hooch.
Hooch looked excited. She held the snitch in the feathers of one of her wings—something that shouldn't have been possible. She leaned down and carefully put the tiny ball into its socket and closed the box. "That was the most impressive move I've seen with a bludger, Mr. Weasley. Who taught you that?"
"Just somethin' I came up with on the spot. Since we don't 'ave a seeker, our only chance of winning is if 'Arry doesn't ever get the snitch." George looked supremely proud of himself.
Katie groaned and punched George in the shoulder. "You idiot. If no one gets the snitch, the game doesn't end."
"Yeah, but then I get to keep pitching bludgers at Harry!"
"Enougha that. It was a good idea, George. I don't think I've ever seen someone attack the snitch like that before. The best part is that the seeker can't stick around and chase the snitch because they've got a right-angry bludger on top of 'em." Oliver looked like he'd just been given a whole candy shop.
"See! It was a good idea!" George stuck his tongue out at Katie.
"Well at least it just got easier to tell you apart," Katie said. "George is the one with a big head!"
Everyone laughed, even George, but it was Hooch who finally broke up our laughter. "The question is, how are you going to use this?"
"Well—" Oliver walked back and forth a few times, how he generally thought about strategy, "—it's going to be situational at best. I mean, it's something we do when Harry hasn't got a hope of getting the snitch, but the other side is about to."
"Right, but we can't use it at all if our beaters don't practice for it." Angelina poked Oliver in the chest with one finger. "So, captain, how do we practice this?"
Oliver spun around to look at Hooch. "Madam Hooch, do—"
"Just Hooch is fine on the pitch, Mr. Wood," Hooch said. "Unless you'd rather Rolanda?"
"Sorry, Hooch. It'll never happen again." Wood's expression showed a measure of excitement. "If you don't mind me askin', what's it like?"
Like magic, every head turned to look at Hooch, though I could guess what her answer was going to be. Everything I'd seen (since getting my new glasses) so far told me that Hooch loved being a pegasus.
"It has downsides. Don't even get me started on trying to sleep when the slightest twitch makes these—" Hooch gestured back at her wings, "—flap. And you saw the result of thinking about movement with two legs when you have four." A big grin creased at the corners of Hooch's muzzle, and she took a deep breath and spread her wings. "But flying is amazing! I don't need a broom! I fly faster than any broom could! I can soar, and dive, and do all the things I've always wanted!"
"Except land?" Fred asked.
"I'm learning!" Hooch laughed. "But don't rush into this. We're hopeful we'll find a way to undo the changes, but it's not certain." She looked down at me. "I do wish I'd gotten a horn too. Seeing what Professor Snape can do with his makes me a little jealous."
Normally stoic and unflappable (even in my head that was a bad pun), Professor Hooch almost looked and sounded like a first year casting their first spell. She was still bouncing from hoof to hoof like she had too much energy.
"How about ten A.M. tomorrow for the first class on what to expect?" I asked.
Hooch rounded on me, somehow looking even more excited. "Consider me already there."
"After your morning fly, right Hooch?" Fred asked.
"Absolutely correct!" Hooch looked unfazed and unrepentant. "Miss Flagessio promised that with work, I'd be able to hover within a month."
George had the look in his eyes that warned of an impending gag. "And land in a year!"
Two years of Snape being the worst ogre of a teacher, and I could have marked him as my favorite just for giving me these glasses. The challenge he'd given me of working out how to make more was so intriguing that I kept coming back to it.
Wood that feels like stone is easy, I'm sure some wizard decided he needed to turn wood into stone—it's practically one of the most wizard things I could think of doing with wood. I'd ask Hermione about it later. Why the stone wasn't shattering? No clue. How he'd made glass this light? No clue either.
"Harry?" Oliver asked.
I blinked in surprise, having been a little distracted. "Uh, sorry. Wait! You all had these ideas for getting me on my broom and a way to catch the snitch, but how did you expect to get me to be able to see it?"
Oliver looked confused. "Those're reading glasses right? You only need them for books."
"No! These are for seeing anything that's further than a foot past my face. If Snape hadn't given me these, I'd be blind as a bat!"
"Here." Fred lightly pushed Oliver aside. "Professor 'ten points from Gryffindor' Snape gave you glasses? Did you check them for booby-traps? Maybe they have a dungbomb dispenser?"
"Maybe something that sets you on fir—No, that wouldn't work." George pushed Oliver even further away as he crowded in beside his brother. "What if they freeze you when you catch fire? You should test it!"
"George?" I asked.
"Come on, Harry!"
I groaned at his enthusiasm. "George? No."
"I'm George, he's Fred," Fred said.
"That won't work now, Fred. I can see. Oliver, is it okay if I go and get all this off me now? I might need to have an early night before the big day tomorrow." I didn't have to feign my yawn, it was the real deal.
Oliver blinked, then looked around as if noticing the failing light for the first time. When he got in the zone for quidditch practice, he got really in the zone. "Y-Yeah, Harry. I think we might all take off about now. George, Fred, practice first thing in the morning."
"First thing is midday, right?" Fred asked. "Only we have a date tomorrow morning."
Alicia noticeably jerked at the word "date".
George noticed too, because his smile got nearly ten times wider. "Yup! Our first proper lesson in parseltongue. Who'd'a thought we'd be attending classes on the weekends, right Fred?"
"Wait. You're taking classes in parseltongue?" Alicia asked, looking right at Fred.
George cut in before Fred could. "You know us, Alicia, when we get to studying we just can't stop. Why, I remember when Flitwick asked us if we wanted to do extra work studying how to make bottle rockets. Well, who could have turned that down?"
"You could come too, Alicia." Fred sounded different, and when he looked into Alicia's eyes, he looked different.
"You know," Alicia said, "I think I might."
I thought back to my confessions to Hedwig, and promptly willed my broom into the air to escape the situation. Wizard school was complicated, it was made more so by being turned into whatever a kirin was, I didn't need crazy girls to add to all that insanity. The worst bit was, most of the girls were witches, which was entirely like a wizard, I'd learned.
Right now I just wanted to go to bed and hide until tomorrow (the weekend) comes. Then I remembered I was still taped to my broom, and sighed.
Minerva McGonagall reached up to adjust her glasses. It was an old habit she'd acquired when encountering something that absolutely flummoxed her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple for a moment. "Would you mind repeating that?"
"I was a prat. An idiot. Probably illegally stupid and dangerous. Should I go on? Perhaps I should. I was a danger to everyone around me, and I want to make amends for that." Gilderoy Lockhart dipped his head in acknowledgment of past-self's sins. "I want to help."
"You'll forgive me for sounding skeptical. Despite Poppy's assurance, I still find your presence in the school to be nothing short of a minor catastrophe. What is it you think you can do to help us?" Minerva had an idea what he could do to help. She'd long thought she needed a footstool for her couch, and the red of Gilderoy's hair would match the couch's color quite nicely.
"Poppy mentioned you still lack a lot of information about the process of becoming a pony. It's not just the least I can do, to volunteer myself. I need a fresh start away from this face and this name."
"You're going to do it anyway, aren't you?" Minerva asked.
Gilderoy nodded with a smile that was more genuine than any Minerva had seen on his face before. "That was the plan, but since I was going to anyway I thought I would ask if doing so could help. All I ask is that you don't mention your subject's name."
"On one hand this is something that would benefit our understanding of this matter, but on the other I see a man who has slipped out of so many problems that he may be using this to escape justice and continue his work." Minerva delivered what she hoped was her best over-the-top-of-glasses look she could. It'd worked wonders on generations of students.
"I can't escape his legacy. Very well, Headmistress McGonagall, you've left me no choice." Gilderoy straightened in his chair. "Do you have any positions vacant?"
"You almost failed transfiguration, if I remember correctly." For Minerva McGonagall, nothing defined her more than the success of her students. Gilderoy Lockhart had never been one she considered a success. "Which means you doing this is delightfully ironic. Are you sure you're willing to do this?"
"If you make the mistake of reading any of my books, and you read between the lines, you'll probably find I wasn't very good at a lot of things. Let me be good at this."
"Very well. I'll call in Albus and Poppy, if you don't mind. I'd rather not be the only one to witness this—there may be something I miss." Standing from her chair, Minerva realized she was not going to have an early night like she'd hoped.
Once Gilderoy was out of her office, Minerva had another problem than calling in her fellow observers. "How am I going to get the man a wand to use?"
"Ginevra Molly Weasley, why are you supporting me in this?" Sombra had felt stronger while working with his mind-slaved minions, and he knew his voice was more firm in Ginevera's mind. They stood in a camp of helmeted ponies—safe from meddling—with Peter Pettigrew pinned to the ground by dark ribbons of smoke.
'You know why I'm doing it. You said yourself you can see into my head. I'm doing this so my brother doesn't have to.' Looking down at the terrified man, Ginny recoiled a little. She shared Sombra's senses and wished that the pony sense of smell wasn't so good.
"A good answer. You also hope for leniency against your other brothers, which I'll grant if you work with me. This creature is going to be your first minion. Let me show you what you need to do to it." Sombra began building a framework of a spell design and shared it with Ginevra.
Compared to the spell patterns she was used to dealing with, the pattern Sombra shoved toward her was massive to Ginny. She began inspecting it, finding the important parts and assembling it in her own head. 'What does it do?'
Sombra wasn't just relaxed with Ginevra now, he was excited. A willing supporter was something very different to his normal cronies, and having her as a student made him practically shiver in excitement. "This will control him. You will be able to ride in his head as you do in mine, but with this spell you will have complete control."
'Imperius—' Ginny might not have had breath to gasp with, but she felt like gasping all the same. She'd been raised in a wizarding household with a father who cleaned up messes for the Ministry. Ginny knew what the three curses no wizard or witch should ever perform were, and knew their effects. 'This is bad.'
"Bad?! Let me show you bad, Ginevra. Come, watch what this beast has done to his own kind."
Ginny recognized the spell Sombra cast as the same one he'd used to plant himself in her head. She gasped, his power reaching for her and pulling her with him into the mind of Peter Pettigrew. The last sight of the real world Ginevra had was of ponies forming up into rank and file.
'There are three sides to this beast, Ginevra, we will start with the Fool.' Sombra had taken apart several minds, but none had left him feeling quite as dirty as the one he now broke apart. 'His first day at school, his efforts in class, and even the pact of brotherhood to those that defended and supported him—it was all the Fool.'
As Sombra spoke, Ginny saw all the things he mentioned. Peter as a young boy attending Hogwarts, getting into trouble and getting out of it again with his friends. His ability to turn into a rat was even tied to this cover. Being within Peter's mind, however, Ginny could always feel that he was living a lie in the scenes.
'The seconds form is the Trickster. He found a new master one day and aligned himself with him in secret. He fed his new master information—information is power. His master used every piece of power he gave to destroy the lives of Fool's friends.' Sombra flicked up a litany of memories where Peter conspired with Voldemort.
'Who're they?' Ginny asked, reaching out to grab a particular memory of Peter and three of his friends turned into animals.
The names bubbled up from the nicest parts of Peter's mind.
Padfoot.
Prongs.
Moony.
'Wormtail.' The last name Ginny pulled from Peter herself, wrenching it from him. 'What are their real names?'
The mind around Sombra and Ginny trembled, but again the girl sent out the spell Sombra had taught her, and Peter stilled.
Sirius Black.
James Potter.
Remus Lupin.
Sombra purred at the feel of Ginevra expressing her will through darkness. 'You recognized one of those. Potter.' He turned his attention outward. 'Who was James Potter, slave?'
James and Lily Potter appeared in a home. Albus Dumbledore was present and casting a spell. Power wrapped around the little cottage around the Potters and Peter, but Ginny was more focused on the fifth person present—a baby.
'Harry!'
'Harry Potter. A young wizard. Shall we see what happens, Ginevra? Shall we watch as the Trickster's master plan come to fruition and give birth to the Crony?' His assistance wasn't required. Sombra watched as Ginevra assembled the complicated magic (using his own power to fuel it) and yanked Peter's mind to the scene he'd described. 'By all means…'
Days, weeks, and finally two months sped by. Peter lived in the sleepy little town while his very existence protected the Potters. Ginny watched how he caught an owl one day and bespelled it to take a message to Voldemort.
The name of the Dark Lord writhed and squirmed in Ginny's thoughts. She watched on as Peter invited Voldemort to the little house with all the magical protections, bypassed all those protections, and let Voldemort kill.
'The Lackey at last. His will is the will of his master. You see now why I have no restraint when it comes to bespelling this piece of filth? His very existence is an affront to order. Even now he would wear one of his masks—whichever he thinks will cover the Lackey best—and lie to us, Ginevra.'
'Show me the spell again.' In Ginny's mind she could see green flares of light leaping from Voldemort's spell—reflected in the windows of the cottage. She'd never wanted to hurt someone so much as she wanted to hurt Peter. He was the one who killed Harry's parents and who tried to kill Harry.
'Together we can cleanse such filth, Ginevra. Monsters like he should not exist. Use this spell and the only face he can show us is the Crony.' Again King Sombra showed Ginevra Weasley the spell that evolved (on Earth) into the Imperius curse.
Ginny didn't hesitate. Once she had the spell straight in her head, she pulled on Sombra's magic and flooded the pattern with power—then she aimed it at Peter Petigrew. She loomed, strained to hold the spell and hold it on target, but like with all magic intent did most of the work.
Peter Pettigrew had known fear before, of course. He'd grown up as part of the Marauders, he'd fought against Lord Voldemort, and then he'd joined the dark wizard. He'd been caught after his betrayal and spent the intervening years in hiding—fearing one day to the next for his survival. But despite all this fear, Peter Pettigrew had never feared anything like the spell the specter in his head was casting on him.
Piece by piece, Ginny wrapped Peter's mind in chains and shackles. She bound him with dark magic and, when it was complete, she felt a measure of rightness she'd not felt before in her life. Casting such an immense spell had not been easy, but it had worked. 'Sit up.'
Any thought Peter Pettigrew had about remaining on his back evaporated from his mind, as did any of him standing—he hadn't been told to stand yet.
'Very good, Ginevra. Come, let us leave his mind and prepare for tomorrow.'
Even as they withdrew, Ginny could feel a connection to Peter. A leash. She shook her thoughts into order and tried to contemplate what she'd just done. She'd cast what was unarguably one of the Unforgivable Curses. She controlled and owned another human being. 'What's tomorrow?'
'Tomorrow is a quick and simple skirmish, and you get to help me decide who joins us and who wears a helmet.'
Trust was never something Ginny expected to feel in this particular relationship, but her inclusion in his plans was enough to convince her that what she was doing was the right thing to protect her friends and family.
The short, straight wand felt odd in Gilderoy Lockhart's hand. Given how long he'd been making those horrible books—plus how old he was—he'd been using magic for many years, and he could understand that the feel of his wand in his hand would feel right. This was not his wand.
Gilderoy wasn't doing so well as he projected, mentally. His thoughts kept reaching for information and ideas that should be there, but that were blocked from his waking thoughts by magic. Not that he wanted those parts, if they resulted in the old Gilderoy Lockhart.
Albus Dumbledore had more patience with new students than Minerva McGonagall. She was thankful she'd invited him for his expertise on transfiguration magic, but she was happy now that she wasn't the one having to teach Gilderoy how to cast his first spell.
"Try it again. This time keep focus on the light you want to see," Albus Dumbledore said.
"It feels so familiar, but I can't remember one whit of it. Let me see…" Focusing his will on making his wand light up, Gilderoy opened his mouth with that intent at the forefront. "Loo-mos!"
Soft at first, but then with increasing intensity, Gilderoy's wand tip began to glow. Though he stared at the expression of his magical talent, everyone else stared at Gilderoy himself. After nearly twenty seconds had passed, Albus lifted his charged quill and pointed to the top of Gilderoy's head. "It's starting, dear boy. Keep it up for a little longer."
Straining to keep his focus on the wand and the light, it was the first twitch of his new ears that finally broke Gilderoy's focus. He gasped in surprise and the light of his wand winked out. "My ears?" He felt drained beyond all reason.
"Have changed. I'll say they're a bit more red than your hair," Albus said.
As the old wizard spoke, Gilderoy could feel his ears twitch and turn to focus on him. The voice was much clearer and in better focus once they had, and he wasn't too upset with the fact he could hear better. "I guess that's just the start."
"You can stop if you'd like." Minerva had had a change of heart when she'd seen how hard Gilderoy worked to relearn magic. It struck home the fact that he really wasn't the person he'd been.
Gilderoy had the unique opportunity of being able to urge two teachers to speed up their note-taking. "No. Please take your notes and tell me when I can continue." Though he put on a brave face, inside he was screaming for peace. Three days of bedrest hadn't prepared him for the strain of dealing with more people than just Poppy Pomfrey and the strain of casting magic.
Looking down at his own parchment, Albus finished sketching the third drawing of the ears growing. He added a fourth of them fully formed to round out the series. "I'm ready when you are, Minerva."
At the headmistress' nod, Gilderoy lifted the wand again. It felt lighter in his hand now—easier to hold and use. He'd thought Minerva McGonagall had been joking when she said the wand needed to accept him, but now he felt a tenuous connection with the odd little stick. "Loo-mos!"
Gilderoy's light was brighter now, more sure of itself—even if he wasn't. He felt the energy flow out of him as he maintained his will on keeping the wand lit. A sharp shove under Gilderoy's rear made him jump to his feet and spin around to see what had bitten him.
"Relax, Gilderoy, it's just your tail coming in." Minerva looked to Albus with a little curiosity—she hadn't seen the extent of his changes, but then she realized she kept her own hidden. Looking down at her page she was writing, she saw her glittering fingers. She kept most of her own changes hidden.
"A tail, but of course. You—uh—want to see it, don't you?" Gilderoy suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Turning around, he reached down the back of his pants and carefully drew the tail out. It felt strange—a new body part—but at the same time it felt nice. This new part of him was something the old Gilderoy Lockhart never had, and was the first inkling he had of not being that man at all. His brain told him there were muscles there he could use, and he twitched them.
"Well, the first question being Can you use it is superfluous." Minerva looked at her notes. "Can you feel it?"
Turning as far as he could, Gilderoy looked over his shoulder and down. His tail was bright yellow with an orange highlight through it. The color made him feel happier, brighter. He cast another light spell without prompting.
"Tell me when to stop. I'm going to focus on this as long as I can." The spell was even easier for Gilderoy now, and the wand practically jumped to his command. A bright glow filled the room and he felt his legs changing.
Leaning down and parking his rear carefully back on the seat, Gilderoy ensured his new tail hung off to the side while he reached down with his spare hand and pulled up one leg of his trousers. "That's quite off-putting." He watched the bones in his leg twist and reshape, the muscles whipping and latching on at new points, then a wave of fur spread down the length of the limb and coated it in orange-red hair.
This was all changing, warping, and redefining him. He loved it. Gilderoy Lockhart was a man of great deeds that were all hollow and fake, but he could be a pony that actually backed up his words. He wouldn't be Gilderoy Lockhart at all, soon, even if it took him all his strength to do it.
When the wave of fur suddenly turned translucent, Albus called a stop. "Please pause there. I need to describe what I just saw and without magic that's become rather slower than usual." His quill charged back with ink and he wrote another line, blotted it, then repeated the action again and again as he filled in a full page of the notebook.
Minerva was sketching rather than writing explicit notes. She tried to draw as quickly as she could, and almost cursed her quill out loud for its inefficiency. At last she had a series of drawings of Gilderoy's leg as it changed, with an extra note that his flesh changed at the end. "I'm done. Albus?"
Poppy, having sat back silently so far, looked Gilderoy in the eyes and saw both the elation and wear that filled him. "Are you able to continue tonight?" She was giving him a clear and obvious way out, he could put the rest off until another time just by saying no.
"Thank you, my dear Poppy, but this is something I must continue. I don't know why, but tonight feels right for starting new things, and what newer thing could I start than my life?" Gilderoy wondered where the poetic side had come from—his former self hadn't seemed (at least in his books) to have an ounce of poetry in his soul at all. This was new, then, and new things were what Gilderoy wanted to embrace. "Let me know when I can continue."
"I'm surprised," Poppy said, "That he's changing so quickly from such a small spell."
"He's actually expelling quite a bit of energy thanks to inexperience. Were Minerva or I to cast this spell, we'd have to keep at it for an hour or more to have the same effect." Albus finished off the second page describing just the resultant change to Gilderoy's flesh. "I'm ready when you are."
When Minerva nodded to him, Gilderoy took a deep breath and started the spell again. The wand felt like an extension of his arm now. Magic poured from him and through the wand to its tip, and as it did so he felt his torso change. Holding back a shout of excitement as he felt organs and major muscles adjusting, Gilderoy stopped when his hands changed—fingers buckling inward—into hooves. "I think—I think I'm almost done."
Joy shouldn't be what filled him, but it did. He wanted to be new, he needed to be new—even if he felt like a wrung-out rag.
Bending down, Gilderoy pressed a hoof on each side of the handle of his wand and lifted it back up. "Will my head finish changing, or will my posture change, do you think?"
Minerva shuddered. "Please don't mention such things where the students can hear. The Weasley boys will open a book on every single student if they get the idea to." As she spoke, her hand worked to quickly add detail to the sketch of Gilderoy picking up his wand with both hooves. "You're quite calm about all this. Are you sure you're alright, dear?"
Turning around to look at Minerva, Gilderoy spotted his reflection in a mirror across the room. He was almost unrecognizable as Gilderoy Lockhart. Pony ears, pony legs, pony arms, and a pony tail. "Today was the last day Gilderoy Lockhart lived." He didn't wait for Albus or Minerva—Gilderoy raised his wand, put his will toward the spell, and spoke the magic word.
Wavering a little as even more magic pulled from his body, Gilderoy shuddered as new magic flooded in to fill the empty place. It felt so full of life and different from his previous self that it was like washing away the last vestiges of the actor his former self was.
Brighter and brighter, Gilderoy's wand almost shone like the sun as his face pushed forward and his jaw rearranged itself. He shook his head for the sheer joy of it and suddenly felt done. Nothing more was changing.
Carefully putting his wand back into the pocket of his coat, the pony who'd been known as Gilderoy Lockhart stood up on its hind legs and stretched—then grabbed for his pants. "Sorry. It appears I've lost a little weight."
"You can stand upright?" Albus wished for his note-taking spell. His hand was already cramping at all the writing, and he suddenly had great sympathy for his students. "Remarkable. It seems like every case of this so far has had different results."
"So far our only theory is it depends on age—baring Mr. Potter, which had extenuating circumstances, and Severus as well." Minerva sketched and sketched like crazy. "Could you try something for me, Gild—"
"Please, I'd rather not use that name. The man named Gilderoy Lockhart is gone." And he was. There was no hint that he was Gilderoy Lockhart. A glance in the mirror showed a pony wearing the rags of clothing that'd formerly fit him so well.
Minerva, who had grudgingly admitted to herself that Gilderoy seemed to be on the right path, agreed. "Do you have a new name picked out, or would you like us to come up with something?"
Thrusting one bright red-yellow hoof out, the pony smiled. "I heard all those ponies and their colorful names. Fire Glow seems to fit the aesthetic, and my new look."
"Well—ahem—Fire Glow, could you be so kind as to try walking on all fours for me? Or at least pose and tell us how it feels. Is it more natural, less?" Minerva couldn't keep from actually smiling at the raw look of excitement and happiness Fire Glow showed.
Leaning forward, Fire felt his balance tip and he landed on his forelegs with a thud. "It feels easy enough to stand like this. Let me try walk—" As soon as he took a step, Fire tripped on a sleeve of his shirt (that was now too long for him) and fell into a heap. He managed one laugh, the first of his new life, and then the last of his strength faded and Fire Glow closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.
"Perhaps we should all sign up for young Harry's lessons on walking?" Albus asked.
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Phfft, Duct-taping harry to his broom, perfect! That's such a wonderfully stupid image, this glossy magic broomstick flying about with a big bundle of fur and tape on the end, and a baseball mitt hovering along in front! It's the dumbest thing I ever heard of!
On a more unpleasant subject, Sombra proves dangerously proficient in the art of corruption. Though he has rather hit a perfect situation in a utterly contemptible victim, and a naïve young girl with a family to protect.
I must say, Gilderoy, or rather Fire Glow, rather reminds me of Cackling Moron's affable Anon.
I love this story, and am astounded that it doesn't seem to get the commendation it deserves. Every chapter works wonderfully, but this one in particular was excellent. Take my hat! 😊✋🎩
Lord Voldemort, may I inquire about your health, and some insight in your plans?
Miss Hooch, have you heard of the wonderbolts yet? They are said to be the absolute best off the best flyers in Equestria. Anyplans on trying to meet and or join them after things finally settle down?
Sorry Hooch, there are only three beings in the Equus that has both horn and wings, so you're out.
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Well there's Celestia and Cadence and Luna and later on Twilight and Flurry Heart and Discord and an entire civilization of changelings.
This is most intriguing ... So both parts of Ginny, both her body and her soul, have either a part or a copy (not sure which so far) of her mind. And both are learning dark magic from a master. (or at least the memories of one) I'm rather much intrigued to see what will happen when the two of them recombine.
Sombra was the original creator of the imperius curse ... well ... didn't see that one coming. And Ginny now has a minion. Neat.
Ask X... Ginny, you are intelligent, do you think Sombra even if he is as powerful as he is and even with Peter and your brother could defeat Dumbledore?
Very fun chapter.
To King Sombra, what hobbies do you share with He Who Must not Be Named, and what kick start your friendship in the first place?
9615689
Sombra did imply enslaving Peter was really easy so not a huge deal.
Wonder if we'll ever see McGonagall's reaction when she learns most of her assumptions of the Main Six are severely off. She assumed Rarity was the most powerful, but we know Rares is a novice compared to Twilight. Though the whole "Coat color doesn't indicate relation" revelation won't be too shocking.
so Lockheart is a Earth Pony? and can he still use Wizard magic? so many implications can't wait for next chapter!
9615813 Which Ginny?
Very well written. Not everyone can write a convincing, reasonable, corruption of the innocent, but you truly have. You are to be praised.
Um. That reads poorly out of context.
Also, kudos on your Lockhart redemption. Also well written, and the first time I remember feeling for the man.
Dear King Sombra,
Suppose you've succeeded. Crushed all opposition, not a single soul in all the world willing or able to challenge your rule. Everything mindless in a helmet, unable to so much as eat without your permission. Suppose you do all that, and time passes. Gold is amassed, crystals grown, statues in places you've never even heard of. Supposing all this, and time passes still (and assuming you instruct your new slave population well enough that they're able to sustain themselves without dying off), what is there to do? What endeavour could satisfy, what point and purpose is there left?
Lockhart has finally managed to contribute to the school and Harry is able to practice Quidditch which is great. Sombra's corruptive influence is rather worrying.
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What Ginny is possessed by Sombra?
Gilderoy should have had a redemption arc in the actual series.
Most excellent.
I think it's rather profound that Ginny is doing everything she can to prevent Percy from becoming the next Peter Pettigrew. It's a shame that her bravery comes in the form of taking his place.
The first time they tape Harry to his broom during an actual game... Just keep calm and think of Snape trying to tell jokes.
Complete obedience seems more like a testament to order. Especially to someone who treats the free will of his subordinates as a privilege for the elite.
Oh boy. Picking up a new name to go with the new body? I'm getting Pandemic flashbacks. Granted, most people are a lot more attached to their old existences, so this should be a fairly isolated incident.
Developments continue. We'll see what happens from here.
To Twilight, how goes the search for the Heart, especially given the mazelike nature of this castle?
Your scene was great, but I couldn't help thinking this:
"I am the Great and Powerful Fire Glow."
McGonagall rolled her eyes, he hadn't changed at all.
I hate to say it, but this might be the right thing to do with him.
Oh my, I wonder what will happen when Ginny 'Feed Me!' Weasley and Ginny 'Haven't You Heard That The Path to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions' Weasley meet...
Also, I like the rebirth of Lockhart here. I do have one piece of advice to give him, though: Forget not your past, but learn from it. To throw it all away is a mistake in and of itself.
10021323
That was beautiful
I love the story so far
George
11177651 Whoops! Thanks for that!
https://youtu.be/t5n5KlXv0Vo
10021323
The Birth Day of Morgana the Second, what else there could happen? :D
The student of two darkest mages she'd ever meet (aside from probably Celestia and Luna and definitely Grogar, if she meets any of them) in her life. That's pretty dark! (=
And I hope that she'd be able to sort out her mental state to "harmonize" back with her friends and family. Morgana ended up a kind fairy (breezy XD) after all.
Half joking. It'd have been a fun idea.