Harry Potter and the Prancing of Ponies

by The Guy Who Writes

Chapter 19: Participation

It took three whole weeks.

A less experienced cynic might think it strange, or even impossible, for him to have gone unrecognised as a non-unicorn for so long. To remain inconspicuous and incognito despite being surrounded by unicorns might seem unlikely.

Mystery Book was not surprised in the slightest. Most ponies go about their lives unconcerned with others, paying mind only to themselves and their objectives. When those objectives involve others, only then do they care. Few pay attention to random passersby. Still fewer when one of those passersby happens to maintain a notice-me-not charm.

Perhaps if that charm existed in this realm as an established unicorn spell, the most experienced magical practitioners would have recognised it and taken note of the caster/user. In his own experienced eyes, that charm marks the one who casts it simply as one who wishes to hide. For this reason, he does not maintain it in the presence of Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic, nor would he use it in the presence of either princess. But none of his professors had noticed, nor anypony else in Canterlot University, which was either a testament to their magical inadequacy or to his charm's unrecognisable foreignness.

Mr. Book would have preferred to remain unrecognised for as long as he stayed a student, but his professor of Advanced Magic 101 had taken the choice out of his hooves. Not by noticing his charm, but through happenstance of her stupid class structure. She annoyingly believed that participation should count to a student's overall grade.

Well, that part wasn't annoying on its own. He agreed with the concept of practical demonstrations as proof of mastery, in theory, and if this class was structured as a seminar, it would make even more sense. But it was not.

Even if the participating student did not properly perform their spell, even if the student failed to demonstrate a solid grasp of the theory or the practice, it did not seem to matter to this professor. So long as the student 'contributed' at least three times per semester, their participation segment was filled. This teacher went down her student list alphabetically (by first name, not second) to ensure that each student will have 'participated' at least three times by the end of the semester, referencing the list a few times per period.

Worse, she did not seem to understand the definition of the word 'participation'. Voluntary student contributions are neither expected nor wanted. No actual participation is desired.

Based on the wording of the syllabus, Mr. Book had the sneaking suspicion that this system, which constitutes 20% of a student's final grade, is not there to help students. It certainly does not serve the function of encouraging students to grow. The token contributions made by his classmates thus far proves that much.

The exact wording suggests something else.

Attendance is imperative. Please be present when you are in class, and refrain from any disruptive behavior.

In other words, shut up and listen or else. A common attitude of bad teachers who are not interesting in and of themselves, and so find ways to force their students into compliance.

Furthermore, the wording was vague. Especially for something that constituted 20% of a student's grade. A clause like that is entirely open to subjective interpretation on behalf of the teacher. The only thing that isn't vague is the following clause:

Missing more than 3 class periods will result in the dropping of a letter grade from your final course grade.

Due to that clause, Mr. Book does not currently plan to skip class periods.

He could have, given his knowledge, and would have, if there had been no penalty. He did not need to sit through most of his lectures, least of all the ones on magic. He already knew everything there was to know about the spells taught in Advanced Magic 101 thanks to the textbook, and the teacher brought nothing new to the table. He only attended class periods because of that one attendance rule, which could cause him to outright fail the course and subsequently flunk out of Canterlot University (magic is a required course) if he chose to disobey.

It wasn't a complete waste. He'd found adequate ways to pass the time in most of his classes with mandatory attendance clauses.

In this class, for example, he did appreciate the opportunity to evaluate the magical strengths and performance levels of first year university unicorns. The participation system did at least force his fellow students to demonstrate their abilities.

But today marks the day that the name 'Mystery Book' would be called, and he knows he is at a turning point. He knows that, when he is called to perform magic before the class, he would have one of two choices.

1. Do nothing, which would keep safe the secret that he can cast spells, but possibly result in losing the full 20% portion of his grade dedicated to "participation".
2. Cast the spell, which would ruin the secret and would likely result in more unwanted attention than merely being a non-unicorn.

Option 1 seems like the only option.

He does not overly care about his own grade so long as it does not dip below 70% and put his student status at risk. So long as he does not fail out of his magic course entirely, his other grades would easily carry his GPA. He has legal access to the school's library, and that's all he cares about.

On the other hand, he no longer needs legal access to the library, strictly speaking. He scrutinised the 'security' in his first three days and is now certain he can bypass it. He no longer needs to be a student. He could drop out, or allow himself to be expelled. Those initial two months of studying had been orders of magnitude more productive than these recent three weeks in terms of academic development per minute. He is sorely tempted to go back to entirely independent study/research.

Still...

If he's going to leave anyway, he may as well do something interesting as he departs. If he departs.

The school, at least on paper, is supposed not to discriminate against non-unicorns (though it is an open secret that every unicorn does). Magic classes that require spellcasting are only taken by the Magic majors. Most unicorns come to this school for other reasons. The mathematicians, scientists, historians, linguists, etc. care little for magic except that it allows them to levitate a quill and write quickly, plus a few other conveniences. The lack of practical elements in Advanced Magic 101 works out for them as well, not just non-unicorns. Again, there are not supposed to be spell demonstrations required of students.

Not supposed to be.

Perhaps he would file a complaint with the Dean of Magic if this teacher is foolish enough to classify his soon-to-be-demonstrated lack of spellcasting as 'disruptive behavior' or a 'failure to participate'. And if the Dean does not listen, he could speak to Celestia herself (via Ms. Sparkle).

He had promised to refrain from maiming, torturing, and killing. Words, influence, and blackmail are all fair game. But even if he could destroy her, it might not be worth the effort. It would, in the end, draw needless attention. He might not even bother escalating at all.

It would all entirely depend on how much the professor annoyed him. If she annoyed him... though that was almost guaranteed, given her syllabus structure and teaching style.

These were all the things he had thought to himself during the weeks leading up to the current class period, in which his name would finally be called by Professor Cast Steel. (Her special talent was magical metalworking, according to her mark. It was little surprise that making her teach a class she clearly didn't care to teach resulted in a poor learning environment.)

"Mystery Book," said Professor Steel, her eyes on her parchment. "Please come forward."

Mr. Book stood from his seat and did so, dropping his notice-me-not charm beforehand. It was at this point that the class did not burst into murmurs. The process of a student coming forward was so routine that the ponies he passed barely spared him a first glance, let alone a second. It was the same way with the professor, whose eyes were more focused on her papers than whatever student was 'participating' at the time.

"Please demonstrate a standard Teleportation," said the professor, eyes still pointed down.

Nothing happened, of course, though something could have.

Mr. Book had already examined the theory behind the Teleportation spell on his own, casting it successfully the same hour he first found it in the textbook. He had further practiced the spell every day, with the eventual end-goal of performing it instantly and at will, though that would likely take around five hundred repeated castings. Repetition is the most reliable way to reach the wandless level, though the downside, of course, is that it's a spell-by-spell method, best reserved for the most common and useful spells.

He had also taken the opportunity to flesh out the advantages and disadvantages of each form of instant travel available to him. (Phoenix transmission is undisputedly the best across the board, but he didn't have one.)

He had deduced that, under ideal circumstances...

Portkeys are best for great, inter-continental distances.
Apparition is best for medium, intra-continental distances.
Teleportation is best for short trips. (Or for when there are established anti-Apparition, anti-Portkey wards. This new spell could bypass those, he'd already checked.)

The Teleportation spell is safer and more comfortable than Apparition, but also more magic-intensive, to the point where any travel distance which would have been called 'inter-continental' on the other side of the mirror wouldn't be possible with Teleportation, and distances that span individual European countries would be a strain.

However, he is not currently under ideal circumstances.

First, his body is more magically powerful here. Teleportation might be even more strenuous on the other side if that power does not escape the mirror with him. Second, Teleportation emits a flash of light more distinctive and recognisable to the local populace than Apparition, which gives no visible cues, only a popping sound which can be muffled with enough skill, though not eliminated entirely.

Even as he practices in private, and even once he masters Teleportation, he would stick to portkeys, which make no sound, or Apparition in the event of an unforeseen emergency. That is, unless his spellcasting secret ever gets out, in which case he might switch to Teleportation, depending on the circumstances.

And today would not be the day he reveals that secret.

"Mystery Book?" asked the professor, looking up from her parchment. "Can you cast the spell?" she repeated. "Did you study the material?"

It was at that moment when he heard a few gasps from the classroom, though they went unnoticed by the professor.

"I studied the material," replied Mr. Book.

The teacher tilted her head slightly. "Then why aren't you attempting the spell?"

Mr. Book looked at her through his enchanted eyeglasses, saying nothing.

It took seven seconds for the professor to realise.

What a stupid mare.

"You-" the professor gasped, her eyes widening in shock. "You're not a-"

"No," said Mr. Book. "I'm not."

There was a pause during which the rest of the class, and in particular those who had barely been paying attention before, all noticed that something actually interesting was going on. Now the murmurs started.

"Well?" Mr. Book asked, voice neutral. "What am I to do?"

The professor seemed at a loss for what to say. "You-" she began. "You have to cast-" she tried again.

It was like watching an actor reading from a script. A flawed script, whose errors were only just now being seen. Like the script was telling her to spit fire and fart rainbows, and it had taken that much for her to finally see the stupidity.

"May I return to my seat?" Mr. Book asked, voice still neutral.

"You... if you don't participate..." she stammered, her thoughts clearly scrambled. "Your grade..."

"Yes," said Mr. Book. "What about my grade?"

"If you don't participate, you'll lose points," she said, again as if reading from a script.

"And how am I meant to do that?" Mr. Book asked mildly.

"You... you just..." and again, that stammering.

"I could describe the theory and spell structure," continued Mr. Book, still in that mild voice. "As I said, I did study. Then again, you just did exactly that before calling me."

Not that he had been paying much attention. In all classes except calculus and physics, he brought his own reading material and allowed the back of his mind to listen to the lecture. His professors' words rarely made it to long-term memory, but if they happened to call on him and ask a question about what they'd just said, his short-term memory would kick in and enable him to answer. It was an ability he had developed when he became a perfect Occlumens, a side-benefit of constantly pretending to be a different person. Mental multitasking, you might call it.

Mr. Book sighed when Ms. Steel banked on nothing to say. "I am returning to my seat. I would not mind participating in the future, in theory, but I do not humour foolish requests."

Her demeanor seemed to change the moment he uttered the word 'foolish'. "If you don’t participate," she said, speaking in tones of one who feels empowered by their own sense of authority, "you can leave."

"You are giving me permission to skip lecture?" Mr. Book asked curiously.

Despite the minor advantages to attending, his ultimate preference is to only show up to take tests and drop off / pick up assignments (which were problems from his textbook, not handouts from the teacher, and were all provided in advance on the syllabus).

"Thank you," he said, despite the fact that she did not confirm his question. "I think I shall accept."

He gathered his open book from his seat and left the classroom, ignoring the incredulous stares of the students and the smile of the professor.

---

Once his 'secret' got out, he immediately stopped trying to hide. He didn't necessarily go out of his way to bring attention to himself, but he didn't actively avoid it either, at least when it came to letting the fact be known. He no longer needed to be cautious of others noticing a non-unicorn in their ranks.

Where before he kept to the library and himself, he could now visit many of the extra-curricular activities to see if they had anything of value to offer. He went from club to club and group to group, making personal evaluations and judgements along the way, and often leaving after less than five minutes each time.

One in particular, the High Mind Society, took exactly three minutes to dismiss, in a sense.

As part of their established ruleset, which he read before his first and only visit, their meetings were always open to the public and they allowed any pony, member or non-member, up to three minutes for question... or comment.

According to an insider, after Mr. Book used those three minutes to share a thought experiment that took the club's supposed ideals to their logical conclusions, the following meetings were no longer open to non-members. They had amended their ruleset to not allow for questions or comments, among other things. And they had lost around a quarter of their membership, including essentially all the freshmares and stallions who had thought that the club sounded interesting, or had otherwise been infatuated with naive notions that did not stand up to his standard scrutiny. Naive notions which they had not yet been fully indoctrinated into believing after only three weeks. Infatuation is easy to undermine when you know how.

---

A/N: True story. Those previous two paragraphs, I mean. The leader of one of the political clubs at my local college (Communists, Democrats, Republicans, or Libertarians, but I won't say which) successfully did this to the club rivaling his own in his first week of school. Makes you wonder what could be said in a mere three minutes to change that many minds, doesn't it?

---

One club that actually proved useful, both to himself and to society, was the Artist's Association, surprisingly enough. It contained a small cadre of talented magical artists who shared a sense of camaraderie about the creation process, and who shared their abilities with each other. Many were masters of fields in which he was only technically competent, due to thousands of hours of dedication to their crafts no doubt.

Another club that proved useful, though not as much, was the Dueling Circuit. He wouldn't join himself, of course, but his first visit gave him a decent understanding about what counted as socially acceptable combat spells. No, he did not use the club to judge anything else. Like, say, battle magic prowess. It was a common mistake for wizards to judge magical strength from a mere sport, even one that involves spellcasting. Like a muggle who lives in a world of guns, missiles, and nuclear weapons believing their country is powerful because they have the best martial artists or athletes. Or even believing that a skilled marksman would automatically make a skilled soldier. Simple stupidity.

As he sought out talent and skill, some of the staff and student body began seeking out the student who was not like the others, and so he had taken to walking the halls invisibly. Truly invisibly, thanks to his horcruxing Mr. Silver's Deathly Hallow. This was less a matter of hiding and more a matter of avoiding annoyance. He did not wish to have the same set of conversations play out over and over again.

In classes, which he could not avoid, he maintained his typical charms, but two of his professors caught wind of his escapades enough to actually notice him despite that. Both began behaving differently. One seemed to take offense at his presence and began openly challenging his knowledge in class. The other seemed overjoyed at the idea of teaching a non-unicorn. Both clearly thought him an intellectual lesser than his peers despite his thus far perfect academic performance.

But even these were tolerable in the face of all the useful information he was learning in his independent library studies. What was not tolerable was Miss Steel.

She had not given him permission to skip her lectures, as he had suspected. He confirmed that on the day of her first exam – one of three to be taken throughout the semester, taking place on a Friday.

She would not give him a test.

He asked why.

She said that he had missed enough class periods that he would fail either way.

He pointed out she had given him permission to skip lecture.

She claimed she did not.

Mr. Book stared at Ms. Steel for a moment, then shrugged, turned around, and walked out the door.

"I would like to see the Dean of Magic," Mr. Book said to the university's head secretary four minutes later. "Is Ms. Velvet available?"

After listening for fewer than fifty seconds, the Dean of Magic decided the problem was behavioural, not academic, and called the Dean of Admissions...

---

"You're-" Waiting gasped when he saw the source of today's headache (and at least two past headaches, come to think of it) and he recognized the face. It was the gray not-unicorn from the High Hay patio.

"Mystery Book," the pony introduced himself, by name this time. "Well met- no. Neutrally met, after the fact, Dean List."

There was a pause, during which Waiting List's mind went through all the rumors/complaints about the Earth Pony attending the school. He'd dismissed them on the grounds of sheer absurdity before. Now...

"Well," said Mystery Book into the silence. "No doubt you have received a summary by now. Would you care to hear the justification for my absence from Ms. Steel's recent lectures, or have you already made up your mind?"

There was another pause.

"I see that you have," said the gray pony, not even giving Waiting List a chance to respond. "You may go ahead and expel me from Canterlot University for failing Advanced Magic 101, unless I have misjudged you. But I give fair warning: I will pursue higher avenues of resolving this case if that is your choice."

"That," said the Dean, finally getting a word in edgewise, "would be impossible, given that I make the ultimate decisions about admission to this school."

"Admission to," repeated Mystery Book. "And expulsion from? We shall see. Although I shan't go down this route myself, I doubt you are immune to the temptation of bribe money. Even if you are, there are always other means of influence."

"Your assessment of me is wrong, and you are expelled. You are no longer allowed on the grounds of this university."

"I suspect you will reverse your decision soon enough."

"I will not. Expulsion is final."

Mr. Book said, "So you believe," and turned to leave.

---

Mystery Book, began the response letter.

While it deeply troubles me to hear that a professor acted that way, and further still that the Dean made that decision, I will not send a letter to the Princess. I would help under any other circumstance, but I will not help a pony who treats others the way you do. You need to be a nicer pony if you want to expect others to be nice to you. For now, if you wish for the Princess to hear this, you can petition her Royal Court like everypony else.

-Twilight Sparkle

Mr. Book briefly frowned at the letter, but his annoyance quickly left him. He had been banking on her righteous indignation sparking to life when she heard, but...

"Fair enough, Ms. Sparkle," he chuckled in the crystal cavern. "Fair enough."

...she was under no obligation to help, and he shouldn't have assumed she would.

An apparition and a brief trot later and Mr. Book was doing a bit of research on the Royal Court in the Canterlot public library.

He checked out four books – one published one thousand and twelve years ago, one published five hundred and fifty-one years ago, one published one hundred and twenty-nine years ago, and one published as recently as possible. He wished to see how the court had changed over the years despite a seemingly immortal ruler presiding over it.

He soon learned that there are, according to the oldest book (which he read first), actually two courts: Day and Night. Three guesses as to which Princess presides over which.

The thousand-year-old book states that, statistically speaking, petitions are significantly less likely to succeed at Night Court. The other books do not mention Night Court at all. Furthermore, he remembered the fact that Celestia had founded her own School for Gifted Unicorns. It was therefore likely she held greater jurisdiction/influence over Canterlot University than her only recently returned sister.

Mr. Book decided to focus his efforts on Day Court.

From the second-most-recent book, Mr. Book learned that requests are sorted into different categories of priority.

Noble requests are naturally placed at the front of the queue.
The merely wealthy after them.
Scholars and politicians after that.
Then the merchants.
Then the working class.
Finally the commoners and the unemployed.

Money is required to submit a request except at the lowest level, in which case it costs time. You could expect the waiting period to be years if you could not afford to increase your priority... though a few poor petitioners did get lucky from time to time when their troubles were egregious enough to be noticed and promoted to the front of the queue by Celestia herself.

So he needed bits.

In exchange for 10,000 bits, Mr. Book went through the lengthy and tedious process of enchanting Mr. Silver's bones, a process for which they'd already been preparing for the past few weeks.

Mr. Silver mentioned that he had not been expecting petty cash to serve as payment.

Mr. Book had replied that he happened to need it for a plot.

Mr. Silver had asked which plot.

Mr. Book had declined to answer.

Mr. Silver had thought for a moment, then asked why Mr. Book had not already Imperiused a few rich ponies to give him a portion of their wealth they wouldn't miss, then Obliviated them afterwards.

Mr. Book had remarked that he always gives every country he visits a fair chance. Long ago, when he began traveling the world, he resolved not to become a random menace as part of his 'I must not go around making strong, vicious enemies' rule. He had also decided he would not do anything that could theoretically get him in trouble with the ICW (not that it exists in this mirror, nor that he ever got caught). At least, not until the local government proves itself irredeemably inept, corrupt, or otherwise incompetent.

The Equestrian government had not yet proven itself so, so he had not yet broken any major rules. The incident with the Wonderbolts Captain had come very close. He had, in fact, intended for that to be the breaking point once he saw it happening. It was only Ms. Sparkle's direct intervention that delayed the inevitable.

At the moment, his main motive for going through official channels to resolve this dispute (though he didn't expect it would be done in his favour) was to put the Equestrian government to the test once more. Ten thousand bits allowed him to petition Day Court under the "wealthy" classification. Even with that high priority it would take a week before his plea would be heard, according to estimates within the most recently published book and, after an afternoon of bureaucracy, also according to the Day Court administration.

He similarly had a motive for going through official channels in general. It might seem irrational, studying at the public library and Canterlot University instead of, say, moving on to private places possessing greater probabilities of contributing to an escape plan or a resurrection procedure. But time was not an issue, and all the knowledge he has been finding along the way has been very useful. He knew that, once he won free from the mirror, he would be yet more powerful.

He was beginning to notice a trend in these deviations. First in his worldly travels, then in his nine years of stupidly self-imposed isolation, and finally now. This particular situation is better than the other two, since he could spend years accumulating new spells and skills without wasting any real time at all (if his mirror-theory was correct), and he actually has freedom of movement and action this time.

Unfortunately, he is no longer allowed on the grounds of the university, and so cannot currently further the magical half of that agenda. And despite the temptation, he would not illegally browse their books until all legal avenues had been pursued. He had maintained the pretense of a law-abiding citizen long enough that he may as well continue abiding even by the minor laws. For now. The university's useful selection of advanced magic books – none of which have yet contained the solution to his biggest problems but most of which have increased his power in other ways – would have to wait. Though he could finish the one he'd already checked out. Otherwise, he spent his free time in preparation for his most recent plot, setting a few things in motion, visiting certain ponies, making certain arrangements, enchanting certain objects, and so on.

He also helped Mr. Silver when the occasions arose – as an instructor on the weekend and as a teacher's aide on Monday. That first lesson had been free; now he required 20% of the profits from each lesson attended. Mr. Silver accepted, then said he'd boost it to 40% if Mr. Book helped him brainstorm future lesson plans and help in a few extra ways.

Once that was done, in a fit of boredom halfway through the week, after all the little details had been taken care of, he decided to sate his curiosity about something likely plot-irrelevant, but possibly useful. Primary sources are better than secondary and tertiary. Since he could find no recent reading material about it, he would pay the palace a personal visit to see what he could learn of the Night Court in person/pony.

(He had asked his literature professor, after his explicit exposure as a non-unicorn, why the words 'personality' and 'personal' were used instead of 'ponyality' and 'ponyal', just as 'in pony' was used in place of 'in person' and 'first/third pony' was used instead of 'first/third person'. The professor had remarked that phrases like 'in pony' were stubborn holdouts against a more general effort to make their language more inclusive to the other, non-pony species of the world. She had thanked him for positing the idea to phrase it as 'first/third person' and promised to bring it up with the other linguists. He had not said "you're welcome". He disliked the professor, her politics, and her personality. She developed the soft bigotry of low expectations the instant she caught wind of and noticed his non-unicorn status, despite the evidence of his already-perfect performance in her class. But he did have to admit, to himself not to her, that he was a beneficiary of the 'inclusivity' effort in this particular instance. Words like 'personality' were deeply ingrained in his habits of speech. Adjusting those habits would have been annoying.)

When he arrived where the guards directed him, a desk outside the doors leading to Night Court, he was mildly surprised to find no line, nor any other sign of procedure at all, aside from a lone secretary.

Comments

[Mad Maudlin]

Well. I hope the university stocks ear muffs because they're probably going to have Luna Fus Roh Dahing right in their faces.

[SpectralFury]

I sense much yelling in the future.

[ColtKit Productions]

I'm kinda hoping Luna is able to recognize him as a Thestral, given bat wings aren't the only difference. They also have slits for pupils, and sharp teeth, in addition to their black manes and grey teeth.

I want to see her scream at the dean.

After all expulsion for "Rudeness" doesn't seem like something she would tolerate.

Especially for her Thestrals, who, in most stories, tend to be more intense then the other pony races

[The Guy Who Writes]

10867350
Honestly, with the last three comments (yours included), I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have cut off the chapter at that point, since it implies he'll actually be meeting with Luna in the next scene. Her first true appearance will be TWO chapters from now, not right away.

[ColtKit Productions]

10867443
Awwwwwwww that's disappointing

[Black--Soul]

In one write a female Voldemort, nothing near this complex. Magnificent chapter!

Complex and Intelligence makes them great chaparacters, fantastic villain. ♡

---

OK seriously, if the waiting.list,can be YEARS why are ponies not diverted to night court?
Strange...