A New Day In Equestria
The cold of Hogwarts castle failed to find me. There was something unique about sleeping wrapped in giant snake coils that felt better than any bed—soft or rough, warm or chill—I'd ever slept in before. I yawned within my nest and my mind stirred just long enough to remember what day it was. Never even opening my eyes, I drifted back off to sleep before something woke me further.
I could feel an odd twitching, but it wasn't physical. There was something magical going on nearby, and all I could sense from it was that it was bad. Maybe it was my history beating down evil arch-wizards, but I'd developed a sense for when something really bad was happening, and something really bad was happening.
—Harry Potter?— Addera's voice tickled at my left ear, or rather Addera's snout tickled my ear. —You are jerking and twitching in your sleep. Are you well?—
Any language from Addera would sound relaxing to me, I swear it. Her voice just seemed nice to listen to. —I was having a bad dream. I think something bad's happening.—
Addera squeezed a little tighter. Within the confines of her coils, it was more like a hug than the death-grip of a huge predator. —Then we can leave. We can go away from the danger, Harry Potter, and come back once the adults have dealt with it.—
—I can't do that, Addera. All my friends are here. Besides, I have a knack for these things.— I shoved my snout forward, sensing where her head was from her earlier words, and pressed it against the underside of her neck. I nuzzled into the spot where her jaw met her throat and inhaled deeply. It wasn't easy to tell her I had to stay, but it was the right thing.
I felt Addera's mouth nibble at my left ear. —You are too brave, Harry Potter. My life would be far less complicated if you were a coward.—
"We should get up. We both have classes to teach today, and I have a quidditch match late—" I yawned and squirmed in Addera's grip. "… Later. Is anyone else awake?"
"Dean muttered about doing a job for George and got up earlier. Everyone else is asleep." Uncoiling herself and throwing off the blankets she'd buried us in, Addera lifted me out of her grip with her forelegs—arms. I really had to work out what to call those.
"Thanks. I think I'll have a shower and get ready early. Seemed like everyone wants me to give them the secrets to walking properly with pony legs." Dropping to the floor, I shook myself all over just like a dog. It felt good to stretch and move, but part of me wanted to jump back onto the bed and dive into Addera's coils again. "Addera?"
"Yes, Harry Potter?"
"Are those forelegs or arms?"
Tilting her head down to follow where I pointed with a forehoof, Addera held up the limbs in question. "They're not forelegs by definition. They're shaped like pony forelegs, but I only use them for holding things."
"So they're…?" I looked up at her hopefully, expecting her to fill in the answer.
"They are. I do not know what to call them, Harry Potter."
I shrugged and arched my back in a stretch. "I guess if you use them to hold things but not stand, they're arms."
"You're probably correct, Harry Potter. I think I'll go down to the girls' showers. Ron got upset with me using yours." Addera finished uncoiling herself and slithered down the stairs.
I made my way to the showers and turned on the hot and cold spray. Using magic to get clean was almost as wizard a thing as using a fire spell to dry off. Besides, I liked how a shower woke me up. A few Locomotion charms on the soap and a scrubbing brush and I got into the motions of getting clean.
The worst parts to clean off were where the tape had stuck to my fur. I'd tried burning it away, but the result of that was just horridly sticky goop that I was resigned to having to clean out again after today's game.
With the water turned off, I prepared myself to get dry. Again I didn't gesture, and again I felt that rush of magic toned down to a much smaller spell thanks to the inefficiency of my casting. Only a little jet of fire, I used it to wash over my body much like I did with the shower head.
Wizarding, I'd realized, was about moderation as much as common sense. At least, surviving being a wizard was all about moderation and common sense. Or was moderation part of common sense? I decided to give up philosophy and just head back to our dorm.
Ron, Dean, and Seamus were all still asleep, but Neville was sitting up and stretching. He looked at me as I entered. "Hi, Harry. Uh, sleep well?"
"Like you wouldn't believe. Quidditch practice was pretty wild last night, combined with everything else. What about you?" I asked.
"Ron was talking in his sleep. He accused basically everyone at Hogwarts of ratnapping. I threw a pillow at him in the end and he punched it in his sleep."
While Neville spoke, I reached my bedside table and grabbed up my glasses case between my forehooves. Opening it up, I cast a quick Locomotion charm and lifted the glasses onto my face. The world was back in focus. With a little bounce of excitement, I turned around to face Neville.
Neville looked awful. The bags under his eyes spoke of a night spent with little sleep. "It didn't work?"
"No. I got up and had a shower, and when I got back he'd finally shut up. That was two hours ago." Neville yawned and shook his head, then reached for a comb. "I w-wanted to see Hermione's class on muggle life, or I'd be going back to bed."
"Neville, you want to learn about being a muggle?" I grabbed up my smaller bag in my teeth and slung it over my shoulder before pausing. "Uh, would you mind continuing this in the common room?"
"Huh? Why?" Neville asked.
Levitating my glasses off I dropped the backpack. "Because I feel like I need to get angry, and it's better to get that out of the way before I start the day."
Heading for the stairs, I didn't hesitate to take them two at a time and clop all the way down to the common room. The fire was already lit and already had an occupant. By now, however, even Ember's presence couldn't hold back my anger. I rushed into the fireplace and let all my anger out.
Gritting my teeth together, I ignored the few gasps of surprise as I let myself get angry. Angry at having to be taped to my broom—Angry at the indignity of having to huddle in a fireplace each morning—I even got angry at King Sombra, by proxy. I flopped onto my belly and felt Ember climb onto my back.
"You've made a new friend, 'Arry." George had been letting his pet soak up the warmth of a morning blaze in the fireplace.
I glared up at George, but try as I might I couldn't get angry at him. Instead, I redoubled my anger at everything in the world that was being annoying and let out an annoyed snort.
On my back, Ember let out a few excited chirrups and seemed to be dancing around on six legs.
"At least someone's happy." Despite my mood, it was hard not to laugh at the happy salamander. "Aren't you meant to be practicing?" I asked George.
George had a huge grin on his face. "Funny thing about that, Oliver was extra tired today, and slept in—that is, he is sleeping in."
"You drugged him?" My little giggle did wonders for pulling my mood back around. "George! It's a game day! What if he slept through the game?"
Ember picked that moment to shuffle forward and hide in my mane. I tried to look back at them, but all that I could see was a head poking out of the burning blue/red hair.
"Nah. He won't sleep that long. About eleven at the most. This isn't the first time I've given our glorious captain some extra rest." George, who was in focus thanks to my situation, turned his head and looked at Neville. "Hey, Neville, come over and get warm."
"You have a tonic to help people sleep?" Neville sat down on the couch beside George. "Could I borrow some?"
George's eyes lit up with mischief. "Neville Longbottom, who're ya planning to dose? Not my little bruv?"
Neville looked shocked, then thoughtful, then shocked again in the space of a few seconds. "M-Myself."
"Does Ron still talk in his sleep then? I swear, we couldn't shut him up some nights. You could get him to talk about all sorts of things if you just got him focused on one thing as he went to bed." George held both hands out toward me. I would have felt upset about it, but I knew how chilly it was.
Opening my mouth, I instinctively blew outward and expelled a blue/red flame.
"Nice, thanks 'Arry," George said.
"He was talking about his rat. It went missing yesterday. Apparently he walked in on Harry in the owlery feeding Hedwig." Neville stretched back on the couch and looked oddly more relaxed than his usual self. Apparently sleep deprivation agreed with him. "I heard all the details, of course, since Ron kept going through it again and again."
I'd almost managed to calm down to normal (particularly thanks to a six-legged shoulder massage Ember was giving me) when Neville reminded me of the fight Ron'd tried to start. The memory of physical violence was enough to cause my flames to leap higher and dance about me.
George looked surprised. "You mean Scabbers? That old rat's still alive? He was old when Percy had him. I imagine he crawled off somewhere and—well, you know how it is with old pets. That's why I like Ember. He—uh, it might be a she—will live as long as the fire that made 'im."
"How long do you think you can keep its fire going?" Neville asked.
"That's a bit of a secret, you see. But I've been assured that it won't go out anytime soon." As he spoke, George leaned back on the couch—probably because my flames had surged higher.
"George Weasley!" The shout came from the stairs leading to the older boys' dorms. "You drugged me again! I'm going to report you to—to Dumbledore!" Oliver Wood stomped into the common room and glared at George.
Turning a big grin in Oliver's direction, George did not look in the least bit worried. "Oh, give it a rest, Oliver. You haven't slept too long, just enough to be a decent hour. Besides, if you reported me I'd be pulled off the quidditch team."
"We've got a chance at this, George. This isn't just another quidditch season, this is the first game on the student council quidditch tournaments. This could be bigger than any single tournament. Gryffindor could win the first game and the first tournament!" Plowing down onto the couch beside Neville, Oliver looked a mix of furious and excited. "I want that for Gryffindor."
"And it's got nothing to do with Helena being one of Gemma's lackeys?" George asked.
Oliver Wood, for the first time ever since I'd first met him, looked shocked. "How'd you—Ugh! Of course you would know. This has nothing to do with her."
"You see," George said turning to look at me, "Helena Fowley likes sporty guys with muscles. She chased poor Lucian Bole around for weeks until he dumped her upside down in a toilet. Not that I condone that—Bole doesn't have a subtle bone in his body—but she's a persistent girl, and she found herself a team captain who is just as persistent and has the aforementioned muscles." He tilted his head toward Oliver. "Right, Oliver?"
"If everyone found out, I'd be off the quidditch team for sure. Please don't tell anyone about this," Oliver said.
"Don't tell anyone about what?" Hermione asked as she descended the stairs from the girls' dorms. She looked well rested and sharp, though she still sported her yellow crystalline body, horn, and pony head. Her clopping hooves were a bit of a give away as to her physical state too.
I looked into Neville and George's eyes, then we all looked at Oliver. "Nothin'!" we all said at the same time. It didn't matter if I was a kirin, if George's family was poor, or that Neville was practically a noble in the wizarding world—we were all guys, and this was a guy thing.
The look Oliver shot each of us said more than words could—he trusted us. "We were just talking about quidditch practice. You know George here came up with a great trick at last night's practice. He and Fred are going to practice it with me today, aren't you George?"
"After breakfast, of course." George stood up and walked closer to the fireplace I was in. "You, uh, ready to turn off your flames, Harry? I'm sure they're ready to start breakfast."
The prospect of food made my belly gurgle in sympathy, and the world turned back into a haze of indistinct shapes. The mass of salamander hiding in my mane didn't shift, however. Standing back up, I shook myself and was still unable to dislodge George's pet. "Coming. I've just gotta get my glasses. Can you—uh—get Ember off my back?"
"Let me get my gloves." George took off for his dorm room, at least I hoped so.
"Why were you in the fireplace, Harry?" Hermione asked. "And why do you have a salamander in your mane?"
"Well, I needed to let off a bit of steam, and the fireplace is a good spot to do it. Ember just liked the warmth, I guess." I shrugged.
Just then, George returned with a pair of thick oven mitts. "Come on, Ember. You can go back to the fire in our room."
To both our surprise, I think, Ember jumped from my back into Georges hands and let out an excited hiss.
Hermione watched George leave the room with Ember and shook her head. "I never would have thought he'd have such an odd pet."
"It's a wizard thing," I said.
"What?" Hermione followed me as I headed for the boy's dorms. "What do you mean by that?"
"Wizard. You know, the absurd stuff that seems perfectly normal when you're casting spells and brewing magic potions all day long? Wizard—thing." I got to the top of the stairs and, though my vision was poor, I wondered if I should say something to Ron—who given how much pasty-white was showing, was standing in the middle of our room in his underwear.
Hermione shouted and her hooves clattering back down the stairs was all the reward I needed.
"Good morning, Ron. Did you sleep well?" I asked.
"Was that Hermione? What was she doin' up here?" Ron asked. "And yeah, I slept really well, though there was this odd dream about being turned into a rat."
Quickly casting a Locomotion charm on my glasses, I put them on and turned to see Ron pulling his socks on. "Huh? Odd. Anyway, I'm heading down to breakfast with Hermione, Neville, and George. You coming?"
"Yeah. I want to do some more searching for Scabbers later, but—" Ron tried to look away before his tears showed, but thanks to my glasses I saw them. "I think he's gone, Harry."
"Ron?" I asked.
"Y-Yeah, Harry?"
"We can hold a wake for him if you want? We can talk about all the awesome stuff he did. Remember when he bit Goyle?"
Ron actually smiled and nodded. I waited while he got dressed and armed. The beater club went inside his robe, while his old, broken wand sat in a pocket on full display. His new wand went inside his robe. "Yeah, I think that'd be good."
We walked down the stairs to the common room together and met up with our friends. The normal ribbing and chatting ensued right up until we opened the painting to leave Gryffindor tower.
"Percy?!" Ron and George both rushed forward at the same time. Percy was laying in a heap on the floor outside the painting. Ron made way for George to leave first, then piled out after him.
"I need to see McGonagall." Percy didn't look so great. He was covered in orange and white fuzz, and had a small horn protruding from his head. He was still wearing his bedclothes, though if he'd worn them last night he must have been outside in them.
George turned to me. "Harry, can you get McGonagall to meet us in the hospital wing?" He was already trying to heave his big brother upright. "We'll meet you there, okay?"
I didn't wait for Addera or Ron, or anyone else to offer to help me. I set my rear hooves into the stonework and galloped. McGonagall would either be at breakfast already or having a meeting with the teachers.
The closest of the two destinations—at this time of day—was the staffroom. I took the stairs four and five at a time, trusting my reflexes and springy limbs to keep me going. In the back of my mind I remembered the portents of something bad happening today, and put it together with Percy's appearance. Had something bad already happened?
My glasses made headlong gallops through Hogwarts both easier and more terrifying at the same time. Half-awake students and shifting staircases blew by me with no further thought than what I needed to avoid them.
The joy of running tried to edge out my urgency, but all I had to do was remember how Percy had looked and I could pull my focus back to the task. Down one more flight of stairs and I was on the ground floor.
Left. Right. Right again. I could see the staffroom ahead, but the two guardians—stone gargoyles—were standing across the doorway. "I need to see Headmistress McGonagall!"
"Staff meeting in progress," one gargoyle said. "No students permitted."
The gargoyles weren't known for being permissive and it wasn't like letting everyone in the staffroom was their job, but I had to hope whoever had made them (probably McGonagall herself) had put in some thought. "There's a hurt student—a prefect, Percy Weasley—and I need to tell the Headmistress that—"
"You need to tell me what, Harry Potter?" McGonagall's presence seemed to push the gargoyles aside.
"We were leaving the tower when we found Percy, ma'am. He looks about half turned into a pony, and he didn't look so good. George and Ron are taking him to Madam Pomfrey, but he wanted to talk to you." As I spoke I got faster so that I was panting by the end of the report.
McGonagall looked at me for a moment and then turned and reentered the staffroom. "Excuse me, everyone, it seems my attention is required urgently. Albus, could you continue?"
I missed whatever Dumbledore said because McGonagall pushed her way past me and back out. "You're going to explain everything on the way to the hospital wing, starting with how you found Mr. Weasley."
On the way to the infirmary I told McGonagall everything I could remember from the moment we stepped out of the painting to me taking off at a gallop for the staffroom. She wrung details out of me with her questions that I wasn't even sure I'd seen.
When we reached the hospital wing, Rest was waiting for us at the desk Pomfrey normally attended. The house-elf looked up at McGonagall and then quickly dipped his head again. "Madam Pomfrey's in the east wing, headmistress!"
McGonagall seemed about to just walk past Rest, but paused. "Thank you," she said to the house-elf.
I looked up at Rest after McGonagall walked away, and he had a huge smile on his face. "Thanks, Rest." I trotted after McGonagall right into the ward where my friends were.
Madam Pomfrey was leaning over the bed with Relaxation at her side. She was murmuring commands to Relaxation and, to my surprise, the house-elf was casting actual spells. They were similar to what McGonagall and Dumbledore had cast on me when I'd first made it out of the Chamber of Secrets, and Relaxation cut off sharply when she realized McGonagall was right behind her.
"Please don't let me get in your way, dear. Do what you have to for young Percy." McGonagall walked around the bed to the other side, scattering George and Ron who looked reluctant to leave Percy's side. "What did you wish to see me about, Percy?"
Without Addera here I had to jump up onto the foot of the bed to see Percy. He didn't look good at all with sunken cheeks and dark bags under his eyes. He looked up at McGonagall and a choking sob left him.
"K-King Sombra! He has Ginny!" Percy slumped back onto the bed and lay still.
I, as well as everyone else (I really loved having glasses again), turned to look at Pomfrey.
"He's unconscious. The poor boy's exhausted, and I can sense the taint of dark magic about him. Unless you need him to settle a matter of life and death, I would have him sleep for a day or two." Pomfrey's look at McGonagall made me realize how much she hoped she wouldn't have to wake him again, and when she lost her detachment and was visibly worried, you knew something was wrong with someone.
"That won't be necessary. He hasn't told us anything we don't already know. He has Ginevra's body, and we know he's going to move soon." McGonagall turned to look directly at Ron. "Ron Weasley, I'd like you present at my next meeting. Please ensure you're free all morning. If Percy wakes, Poppy, please send one of the house-elves to find me."
"Ma'am! He kept muttering something about a Peter. I don't know any peters," Ron said.
McGonagall paused on her way to the door and looked back at us. "We have one student named Peter, but I am sure he isn't involved. Thank you, Ronald."
"Where's Ginny? I mean, Ginny's diary?" At the blank looks my question received I turned for the door and chased after McGonagall at a run.
I'd lost sight of her for only a moment, but not only wasn't McGonagall anywhere to be seen, neither was Relaxation. I didn't stop to find out what had happened and continued galloping to get back to the Gryffindor tower.
My heart had slowed somewhat. Writing down what'd happened to Ginny, though, made it more real in my mind. I sat on my bed staring at the diary and wondering what had caused Percy so much stress that he'd gotten to the point he was at.
A sound at the window caused me to break off my contemplation and look over. A streak of white blew by and I heard the sound again—a snowy owl's bark. Letting out a laugh, I cast a locomotion charm (something I was getting really good at lately) on the window latch and threw the window wide.
The mechanics of an owl having to close her wings before reaching the window while aiming for a target that's little bigger than herself was probably hard enough without her target moving, so I stood still even as she came rushing through the window like a cannonball only to latch one set of her claws onto the scales of my back and another into my mane.
"Hey there, Hedwig," I said. "You want to come to breakfast?"
Hedwig wasn't a stupid owl. She knew exactly where I got her bacon treats from. She gave an excited whistle, but jumped off my back and started walking around me with her awkward-looking gait.
"What's wrong? What're you do—?" An angry bark silenced me mid question. I turned my head to watch her continue her walk around me. I waited for her to finish what was obviously an inspection. "I'm okay, Hedwig. Ron was just upset. Scabbers is missing."
With a noise that was a mix between a horrid retching sound and a disgusted bark, Hedwig jumped onto my back again and dug her talons in for a good grip.
"I told him how wretched that rat was, but I think he finally calmed down. Scabbers was an old rat." As I walked down to the common room, I took note of Hedwig's scoffing bark. "Of course I know he was older than that. Percy had him before Ron, after all."
Hedwig kept silent for the rest of the walk down to the great hall. Weekends were more relaxed for breakfast times than weekdays, but that didn't mean that practically all the school were either in bed asleep or in the hall.
Glasses made all the difference. The four long tables were laid out and bearing a mix of the school uniform colors and each house's. Ron, Fred, and George were missing from the Gryffindor table, but I could see Addera and Hermione sitting beside each other.
The Slytherin table held Gemma (I couldn't help but take notice of her first), Malfoy and his two cronies, and while I watched, Gemma lifted out her wand and whipped it around in the air for a magic gesture. I felt the pull of a pattern wanting magic from where I stood, but she hadn't worked any spell at all. But she'd risked it.
Dragging my gaze from them to Ravenclaw, I saw their quidditch team were all huddled together and talking—probably about the game. Eddie Carmichael spotted me and tipped an imaginary hat in my direction.
Hufflepuff table looked to be having the most fun. I could see a lot of pony ears and several snouts among those laughing and chatting, and one boy seemed to have the most amazing flowing yellow mane of hair that reached halfway down his back.
As I approached Gryffindor table, I could see a few figures at the teachers' table. Hooch was sitting there chatting with Flagessio (I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed her when I first walked in), Dumbledore sat talking with Flitwick, but the rest of the teachers were nowhere to be seen. McGonagall was conspicuously absent, but given events so far I wasn't surprised.
I reached a place opposite Hermione and Addera, and wasn't at all surprised to find that Addera had stretched her coils across under the table to give me my usual support. "Thanks, Addera. Good morning."
"Why is Hedwig on your back, Harry?" Hermione looked like she was done with breakfast and was just chatting with Addera.
I had to think of something wizardy to say. If I was going to be a wizard (and I like to think setting myself on fire each day makes me a wizard if nothing else does), I had to start acting like one. "She'd hardly fit on my head."
Hermione stared at me for a moment in what I could only be thankful was silent shock as her mind worked on what I'd said. I cast a few Locomotion charms and started putting my porridge breakfast together while pulling the mostly empty tray of bacon over—closer to Hedwig.
With an excited whistle and a little nuzzle of my cheek, Hedwig was on the table and savaging the remains of the bacon.
Apparently finished sorting through my wizard logic, Hermione narrowed her eyes at me. "You know that's not what I mean, Harry. Why did you bring Hedwig to breakfast?"
"Isn't she allowed?" Addera asked.
"There's nothing against bringing an owl to breakfast. They have to let owls in, anyway, to make deliveries." I poured a generous dollop of honey over the porridge and started spooning it up.
Hermione opened her mouth to argue back, but the sound of throat clearing at the head table drew all our attention to Dumbledore. He'd stood up and walked to the lectern to address the school. "You'll have to excuse Headmistress McGonagall, she has pressing matters to attend to." I felt like he was looking right at the deWeasleyed Gryffindor table when he said that. "Our gracious hosts—" he turned and gave a little bow to Flagessio, "—have been searching for a particular artifact, and though they hoped to find it quickly and deal with our growing He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Two problem."
I giggled. I couldn't help it. Dumbledore had always told me that being scared of naming Voldemort gave him power, using the same name for King Sombra did the opposite—it made him a joke. So I kept giggling until Hermione shushed me.
"The artifact is a crystal heart about yay big—" Dumbledore held up his hands, "—it shouldn't be hard to spot, unless it is. I believe fifty points would be a good number to whomever finds it."
That got everyone's attention. A low rumble started as all the students present began talking about how best to search the castle. But the thing was, I couldn't focus on any of that. I had a game of quidditch in a few hours, and that meant I needed to be in the right frame of mind to play.
"Where's Ron and his brothers?" Hermione asked.
His brothers. The words practically smashed me in the head. I turned and looked for Oliver, and spotted him further up the table and looked shell-shocked. "They found Percy. Something happened outside the castle I think. Something to do with Sombra. They're probably still with him in the hospital wing."
"Do the teachers know?"
With a mouthful of porridge, all I could do was roll my eyes at Hermione's question.
Hedwig, having mauled most of the bacon, spotted the plate of sausages that was before Addera. Addera hadn't missed the look Hedwig gave her, and the pair looked at each other. Hedwig made a soft whistle, and faster than I could track, Addera flicked a sausage across to her.
Hermione rounded on Addera. "You too? I swear, everyone seems to understand everything that owl says but me!"
"Well—" Addera said.
"Just now. How did you know she wanted the sausage? That whistle could have meant anything. And the other night Harry implied he'd made plans with Hedwig. How can an owl understand plans?"
"She—"
"It just doesn't make sense. Is there some language class I need to take? Do I need to study something? I'll do it, you know. I'll—"
"Hermione Granger, you seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that she's an ordinary owl." Addera was firm enough that Hermione had to give ground (and time to speak) to her. "Just now it was obvious what she wanted. She'd looked at my plate, then looked to me for permission. I gave it."
"Then," Hermione said, "How do you explain the way they understand each other?"
"They've probably formed a familiar bond ritual, Hermione Granger." As if she hadn't just said something profound, Addera picked up a sausage and bit it in half.
I was almost as startled as Hermione looked. "What do you mean? What's a familiar bond ritual?"
Waving the last half of her sausage in the air, Addera shrugged. "I've been learning to be a witch less than either of you. I only know there is such a thing because Salazar Slytherin used it with my mother. She wouldn't have let him get his hooks into me otherwise."
"But if it's a ritual, how did I do it without knowing how to do it?"
Addera just leveled her gaze at me, her shiny glasses showing my own eyes back. She selected another sausage.
"You know what this means, right?" Hermione's annoyed expression had broken into pure sunshine. Her snout curved up at the corners and I almost expected her to start to sing for some reason. "Now I have something to research too!"
"Oh, right. My glasses. I think I worked out how to make the frames, but not why. You see, they're carved wood with some kind of wood to stone charm on it. Made the wood really light but hard like plastic." I took my glasses off to look at them. "I don't know why he used wood, though. Bone or horn would be better, and wouldn't need the hardening."
"That's it!" Jumping to her hooves, Hermione blushed and quickly sat back down. "Exactly what you said, Hardening charm. It turns things to stone."
"We haven't learned that yet," I said.
Hermione's blush gave her away. I glared at her until she caved. "It's a third year Transfiguration class spell. Not hard, to learn that is. But I can guess why he used wood."
A genius Hermione Granger was, but her hobby was making you know about it. "No I really can't."
"To fit the frame around the glass it needed to be bigger than the glass and get smaller. You could either use a shrinking spell, or just soak the wood so it swells." She looked so smug she'd have won a smugness award. "And that's why."
"And the glass?" I asked.
Shaking her head, Hermione proved that she didn't quite know everything—and I bet that fact hurt her. "No idea. Father made toys out of wood all the time—it was his hobby—but he never used glass."
I sighed. At least I knew one of the spells and one of the techniques used to make the glasses now. "Okay. So I'll keep working on these glasses, and you can try to work out whatever this ritual is that I accidentally did. We still have these classes to prepare for."
With my glasses on, I got to see the slight blush rise in Hermione's cheeks, her eyes widen, but what they really let me see was her huge grin. It took longer than it should have for me to work out what had just happened: I'd given Hermione Granger homework.
When she'd first wound up in the horcrux (Ginevra Weasley knew the name and purpose of the artifact she was in), Ginny had been trapped in silence and stillness whenever the cover of the book had been closed.
She'd been going out of her mind in panic before she found the memories. They were passive and weak, but they were better than sitting in the dark and going mad. Ginny reached for the most substantive she could find and was pulled into the perspective of a student at Hogwarts commanding a giant serpent to kill a girl.
Myrtle Warren.
The name was practically etched into every part of the horcrux, Ginny realized. Everything about the death permeated the dark magic construct in a way that disgusted Ginny. But the worst part was watching Myrtle look up at the basilisk's face and just stop.
Ginny pulled herself from the memory and slid back into the comfortable non-space. The silence and lack of interaction was better than that memory.
How would Harry do this? Ginny thought, No, that's the wrong question. Harry would do the most brave thing and break free to find his body still there. How would Hermione do this? The question felt better, and it helped Ginny immediately realize what she had to do.
Filing cabinets. Index cards. A library! Ginny focused to visualize everything she wanted. It was hard at first, and it took repeated focus on each and every object before they became more persistent. Between those efforts, Harry wrote to her.
When the book opened, Ginny could reach out somewhat. She could faintly hear words spoken if she strained to, but what she really felt/saw/experienced was writing. The words in ink that Harry spread upon the pages—her pages—were amazing. She could see little glimpses of what he described, and when he started drawing it was better still.
But when the covers closed, when Harry put her away to return to his own problems, Ginny was stuck in the her diary with all those memories of Tom Marvolo Riddle's life. Voldemort. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord. Ginny shivered sometimes, as she sorted all the memories. She had to poke herself into each one to find out what it was, and several times she jerked back out so violently she wanted nothing else but to shiver in the cold nothingness again.
Shivering in the cold nothingness wasn't possible now. There was too much stuff that Ginny had to focus on. Shelves. Cabinets. A whole treasury of Tom Riddle's life spread out in a recreation of Hogwarts' library. When he'd left Hogwarts, however, the diary ended—and Ginny was very okay with that.
Each of those shivering, horrible memories went into the restricted section of the library. Ginny pushed around a cart of memories and poked into each one by one. This one was a Potions class, third year. This one was Defense Against the Dark Arts, fifth year. Another was a more private lesson as he practiced wandless and wordless magic in his final year.
Each memory had a shelf and a call number, and Ginny slowly got them all filed away. Of course, the dark ones were unsorted. She didn't like even looking at them, but had to keep focusing on the restricted section to ensure they stayed there.
There's nothing else for it, Ginny had decided, I have to go to school.
Days in the real world had no meaning. Ginny attended classes—reliving first year from the first hat-sorting when she got placed in Slytherin. The more she knew about things, the easier the memories went by. She got through several months of classes of first year in the time it took Harry to watch a quidditch practice.
Second year was much slower. A week passed in a day of real time, and Ginny realized this was not going to happen nearly as fast as she'd hoped. Her chances of being a supremely powerful witch by the end of the week were thwarted. That fact alone had her giggling for quite a while.
Then Harry opened her diary.
Ginny! Percy's back, and he said Sombra has you. You're still here? Please—
Sometimes Harry needed to be interrupted, and right now Ginny was prepared to do that.
I'm here, Harry. I'm alright. What happened?
His description of events shocked Ginny into silence. She couldn't form words until she heard how her big brother was safely in the care of Madam Pomfrey.
I'm worried something big is going to happen, Ginny. That he didn't mean it like that.
The memory of when she'd felt Percy open her diary hit Ginny hard and she reeled from it. But Percy was safe and in the castle, that was the most important bit so far as Ginny was concerned. Memories of Tom using her own energy to manifest himself drove her to study harder, even if some of the lessons were not nice.
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To paraphrase something once said about Twilight Sparkle: One day she's going to get herself a nice young man with library binding.
Harry, how does it feel to not be blind as a bat anymore? Can we assume you and Professor Snape have a bit of a truce going?
Oh dear, things are about to go down ...
That, people, is what happens when an author loosed track of what they are writing in the middle of a sentence. In other words: What?
I think you mean either 'Neville' or 'Neville's words' here. Ron isn't actually present in this scene.
off
who, given how much pasty-white was showing, was
Hermione's shout
This is dialogue, so consider this correction optional: Where're Ron and his brothers?
were
9630001 Phew, a few flew through! All dealt with, thank you.
Hermione is at her best when she has something to research.
Quite odd that we have 2 Ginnies. A good, bodiless one, and a soon-to-be-evil one with a body.
Another great entry,
9630696
Oh, it's going to be much more complicated than that, the bodiless one will effectively add almost seven years to her life from the perspective of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and the physical one is receiving careful tutoring from a malevolent lich. The both of them are going to come out of this with quite a few shades of grey added to their perspectives.
9630789
So long as it’s not 50 shades of grey, I’m cool with that.
Honestly the biggest problem is that body Ginny used one of the unforgivable curses. There’s a reason they’re unforgivable, as I’m quickly learning. Killing curse takes the soul of the victim, this curse takes the victim’s mind, so on so forth.
Question for Twilight: do you perhaps think that the Crystal ponies banished from Equestria 1000 years ago were the source of magic in the world these humans come from?
I mean after all, we are seeing varying degrees of transformation, and it seems tied to how much their blood is ‘pure’ regarding how much they’ll change. Exceptions like Harry nonwithstanding.
Ask X... Ginny, in all the memories you have of Voldemort, is there any exorcism spell?
Ask Gemma: "The current rulers are immortal alicorns who have power over the sun and moon, and are several orders of magnitude better than the founders of Hogwarts. Even the next-in-line is on-par with a founder of Hogwarts. Since you are simply out-classed, and the only normal way to "rule" in such a situation is from the number 2 advisor position, what is your thinking on how to become the trusted advisor of people who you know nothing about?"
Huh. Percy's turning into Sunburst? Or at least using the same color scheme. Now there's the question of whether he passed out before he could play his part of Sombra's plan, or if this is all according to it...
Oh dear. We've already had pony Hermione sing about scholastics in another story. Getting versebreakers that far north won't be easy.
You-Know-Who 2: Anonymous Boogaloo
Give that witch some homework. Witches love homework.
Yeah, just because one of Voldy's Horcruces got eaten doesn't mean the rest aren't in play. Though he is going to need to find a new caretaker. His usual one's in another castle.
To Twilight: How goes the search for the Heart?
9630696
And given how the disembodied one is reliving Voldemort's memories firsthand, we'll see how long she stays good...
9638876
The fact that she considers such memories to be abhorrent is a good thing. From my understanding she's experiencing them the same way Harry did, a spectator, nothing more nothing less. If she was experiencing everything down to the emotions, then there's a risk, but she hasn't mentioned emotions or anything so she's good.
when are you going to update this?
9650520 Latest chapter is done, it's with pre-readers now.
Ask pre-readers: What do we need to do to speed you up?
What do you mean, only ponies?
#BroCode.
"She gave an exciting whistle".
9638876
What about cannons?) Thought that probably more of a bat-pony thing...
Just recently watched abridged "Hellsing: Ultimate". Marvelous.
Maybe switch "the" for "that"? ".., using that name" sounds better. Because as it is you can't say whether it is "King Sombra" name, "Voldemort" name or "shall-not-have-a" name that makes him a joke.
It's obviously not the second, but I'm not certain about the other two.
11397100 Tweaked it a little. Thanks!
Suddenly I smell eggs.