• Published 28th Mar 2021
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Harry Potter and the Prancing of Ponies - The Guy Who Writes



Dumbledore doesn't reverse the trap he laid on the Mirror in time. The Mirror traps Harry and Voldemort outside of Time... and inside the MLP universe. MLPxHPMoR Crossover.

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Chapter 26: Truth vs. Honesty

Halfway through Mr. Book's shift, which did not seem like it would be cut short like the very first one, he asked, "How well are you able to dream-walk and speak simultaneously?"

He had just gotten to an acceptably difficult stopping point in one of his textbooks, after coming to an acceptably difficult stopping point in two other subjects, and since his break was still about thirty minutes off, he decided to give his brain a rest of a different sort.

"Decently," answered the princess, eyes closed. "One moment please."

Mr. Book's eyes carefully attempted to observe the magic at play, but only saw what he always did when his employer engaged in dream-walking – a faint glow around her hair, and her horn.

The princess audibly sighed, and the glows faded. "We usually can, but that one took more concentration than usual."

"Am I allowed to ask what it was about?"

"Thou may always ask. This one was closer to a hallucination than a dream. Thou would not believe how many pegasi believe it is a good idea to sleep-fly. Some nights, we feel as though waking them up is all we do."

"I would easily believe it," said Mr. Book. "Most ponies are stupid."

"We wish we could disagree," the princess sighed sadly. "We think it might be a product of the times. Or perhaps the educational system. In our own era, it was not the case that ponies regularly endangered themselves."

"It was entirely and completely the case. Ponies were no less stupid then than they are now. There are simply more of them that you can witness."

"What dost thou mean?"

"Population size has increased a thousand-fold over these last thousand years. That means there are a thousand times as many idiots, on average. You must deal with the most moronic on a case-by-case basis, so it may seem to you as though stupidity has grown rampant. Understand that it has always been there, it is only more apparent."

She stared at him for a few moments, then went back to dream-walking.

When his shift was almost over later that morning, he was prepared for something that had surprised him the night prior.

"I shall have the swallow's nest soup, saffron-sprinkled hay, white truffles, and a tall glass of water."

The server bowed and left to relay his order to the chefs.

He had been given a place at the palace dinner table, now the breakfast table, which otherwise seated nobles, high officials, and the princesses.

His employer had argued that the Royal Fool – and to the public, the Court Scholar – should be seated there, though he personally didn't care to join the fray. Benefits: free and likely tasty/nutritious food. Costs: it would be simple for somepony to attempt to poison him, and one of the princesses might notice the wordless diagnostic charms he habitually cast on his food and drinks. He had abstained from the arguments, deciding to accept whatever happened.

It had taken a bit of time to for his employer to convince her sister, and then even more time for Celestia to convince her company. The efforts had finally gone through yesterday, just after the start of his shift. He had ordered tea then, but now his stomach was ready for a full meal.

"You have expensive taste," Princess Celestia remarked after the butler had gone through the service door.

A subtle jab?

"Expensive food feeds an expansive future," he replied. "Though in truth, those are the only dishes I recognized on the menu from... my days as a traveler. That they happened to be costly is complete coincidence. Or circumstance, I suppose, given that they appeared on your menu. Nonetheless, my purpose for choosing them was simply to see how they compare to what my palette remembers."

Celestia looked to Luna, who nodded. A sisterly system for deception detection?

"I am surprised you recognized those, of all dishes," Celestia continued. "Where did you travel?"

Mr. Book frowned. "Were you told of my three employment conditions?"

Celestia lightly frowned in turn. "Three?" She shook her head. "I only know of two."

He looked at his employer flatly.

"We do not hold power over our sister," the princess of the night pointed out in a polite tone of voice. "She is therefore exempt from that part of thy request."

"Are you deliberately exploiting that loophole?" he asked in a voice that expressed disapproval and threatened quitting his job.

"It is not by our will, nor our request, that she asked thee that question. She is simply curious."

"I see," said Mr. Book, even as Celestia failed to follow the exchange. "In that case, I shall say only that I travelled the world. How comes the Night Guard recruitment efforts?"

"Well enough, now that the candidate pool has expanded."

"What about the new armor enchantments?"

"Estimated completion time is one month, according to the royal enchanters."

"Have you adjusted your dream-walking habits?"

"Yes."

"And the petition system?"

The princess frowned. "What of it?"

"Is it being modified in any way?"

"No... why?"

Mr. Book's food arrived.

"Offer petitioners a choice," he said, taking out two packets of powder from beneath his cloak. He poured one pack into his water. "Day court, of high success rates, long waits, and noble decree." He poured the other. "Night court, of low success rate, no wait, and direct ruling by princess." He stirred the powder with a spoon until it made a cohesive slush. "Make sure this choice is explicitly and expressly explained to every petitioner. Thus would your court see bodies."

He had settled on that idea some time ago, after discarding many others. He would have suggested it sooner, but people/ponies often balked when presented with too much change in a short time frame, even if they were all competent suggestions. He was pushing it as is.

"You believe it would be that simple?" princess Celestia asked.

"No," Mr. Book answered. He sipped from his cup. "I suspect you shall have to fire your current secretaries, who might object to the prospect of more work, or be too ingrained in current habits to change, or be inherently opposed to her majesty for some reason or other. This introduces the problem that new hires would make many mistakes, even if they remember to introduce both courts and explain the opportunity costs of each." He examined his soup. "Then there is the problem that informed ponies, no longer ignorant of Night Court, might yet choose Day Court." His gaze turned to Celestia. "For now, you content yourself with the excuse that, if they cannot choose, it is not their fault. You fear a repeat of a thousand years ago, that once they have the capacity of choice once more, they might choose poorly."

"You do not know that," Celestia rebuked. Her tone was not defensive. It was firm and stern.

"True," said Mr. Book. "I only suspect it."

"Why dost thou suspect it?" asked his employer.

"Your sister can accomplish much when she sets her mind to it," he pointed out, "as she proved in response to my court case. So can you, as you proved-" in your tenure as Nightmare Moon "-in response to my suggestions. It does not take a genius to propose the solution I just provided. It does not even take mild intelligence. That it, or something like it, has not already been implemented suggests to me that hidden motives are at play. Something halts your actions. Perhaps you do not wish to risk... what did that former secretary say? Stepping on each other's hooves, I believe it was."

There was a pause, during which he drank more of his modified water, and neither princess spoke.

"Speaking as a former petitioner, I can confidently predict that many ponies, especially those who cannot afford to increase their priority, will take their chances with your court if they learn there is no wait time." His eyes turned to Celestia's. "If fear motivates you into stagnancy, dispense with it. Your court is overbooked as it is."

His piece spoken, he raised a fork holding a truffle to his snout and gave it a sniff.

Celestia, who clearly did not wish for the conversation to stay in uncomfortable territory, asked, "How are you doing that?"

Her question likely referred to the fact that he was not touching the fork. Levitation was the go-to for silverware, though not glassware, and he would not want to commit an impoliteness.

He washed the truffle down with the drink held in his hoof. "Smoke and mirrors."

"My sister informs me you are lying."

"Obviously. Though I would prefer to call it joking."

"You have no intention of speaking the truth?"

"Sleight of hoof is meant to be a tool in a fool's arsenal, is it not?" His hooves now rested beneath the table, far away from his floating cutlery, the same as every other pony at the table, except that his wasn't glowing. "Might a magician keep his secrets to himself?"


Over the next two weeks, new faces confirmed that recruitment efforts to the Night Guard were progressing well.

Perhaps a little too well.

Upon arriving outside the night princess's bedchambers-

"What are you doing here?!"

-one of the guards nearly jumped him, but was stopped without Mr. Book's direct intervention.

"Stand down, recruit," said the sergeant next to him. "He's here almost every night."

"Salutations, Night Wing," Mr. Book greeted the new guard, who was looking at his superior with confusion and anger. "Do not fret. You shall pass the air cushion soon enough."

The sergeant frowned. "You two know each other?"

The door to the bedchambers opened. Mr. Book was very punctual at his arrival times, as was his employer.

"Good evening, gentleponies," the Princess of the Night announced herself. "Dost anypony know what shall be for dinner?"

"No," said two ponies.

The third seethed quietly.

"Then let us find out for ourselves. We art peckish."

And the escort through the palace began, three of four ponies treating it as the habitual routine it had become.

At one point, Night Wing seemed about to say something.

His superior noticed this. "No talking unless addressed, recruit. Or emergencies." Then, without breaking stride, "Apologies for talking out of turn, princess."

"Tis fine," said the princess. "We all must start somewhere. Skittish, is he not?"

"I would say slow and sluggish," Mr. Book opined.

This did not improve the new guard's disposition, but he didn't disobey his superior's order.

"How was that not a lie?" the princess asked. "He is clearly on edge. Is thy vision failing thee?"

"No," said Mr. Book. "Nor is my memory."

Night Wing did not like this comment either.

"Hold," said the princess, halting in the middle of the hallway and thus halting her entourage as well. "We are stopping before this gets worse. We have seen assassins with similar demeanors to his. What is going on?"

Mr. Book tilted his head. "It would take time to explain, and your sister is expecting us."

She turned to her guard. "Sergeant?"

"These two have a history," the stallion stated as soon as he'd been given leave to speak. "No idea what kind. Probably not good."

The princess looked to her fool. "Are we forbidden from inquiring into this history?"

He shook his head. "No. It is public knowledge."

She turned to the new recruit. "If thou hast a problem with our fool, we should like to hear it."

Night Wing practically burst. "Where do I start? He insulted the Wonderbolts. Said they're not important. And that made a colt say they're not important during flight week to the entire audience. And he attacked the Wonderbolts too, so everypony in Cloudsdale hates him. He's arrogant. Thinks he's better than everypony else. He's unpleasant to everypony, even colts and fillies. Oh, and he told me to die."

"Do not forget that I shoved you off a high cloud with your wings bound as I said it. And many others as well." Mr. Book smiled reminiscently. "Happy days."

"Thou art not helping thy own case," the princess said darkly. "Since thou speakest so freely of the act, we suspect none were hurt?"

"Quite the opposite," said Mr. Book. "It was like throwing ponies into the deep end of a swimming pool so they could see for themselves that they could swim. The 'die' part was simply to make it more difficult for the adults. If they complain about it like foals, that is on them."

"And the other accusations?"

"In order, the Wonderbolts were deserving of insult, as their former Captain could tell you. I did not attack them, unless you count words as weapons, though their current Captain did attempt to attack me. Not every pony in Cloudsdale hates me, only the stupid ones. I am not arrogant, simply a realist. I was better than everypony else in that context, even the instructor, who has said on multiple occasions that I am better at using the techniques he invented than he is. And I never claimed to be a pleasant pony to be around. You hired me because my unpleasantness does not discriminate. If a colt is being stupid, I would not hesitate to scold him if I thought it would make a difference, just as I would not hesitate to correct you or your sister."

The princess of the night took a long moment to absorb all this, then took another long moment to think.

"Recruit?"

Night Wing stood at attention. "Your majesty."

"If thou art incapable of guarding us and our fool, thou shall be dismissed and replaced."

"With respect, princess," said Mr. Book, "I would personally recommend he be dismissed anyway, regardless of capability. I do not say this out of vendetta or personal dislike, and you know I am not lying when I say that."

"Then why make the recommendation?"

"He is emotionally compromised. A liability. A divided army will always crack at its weakest point. So long as I am here, his loyalty will be in question. Or am I mistaken in my understanding of loyalty?"

The former Element of Loyalty stayed silent for a long moment.

"Sergeant."

"Ma'am."

"Dismiss this recruit. Honorably, please, and without negative remark on his record."

A minute later, two ponies walked down the hall, the sergeant having escorted Night Wing away after reassurances from the Princess that he could leave his post to do so.

When she spoke again, Mr. Book wondered if she did that to get a bit of privacy.

"How didst thou visit Cloudsdale?"

"I may or may not own a cloud-walking necklace."

"Lie."

Mr. Book frowned. "How could that statement possibly be false?"

It should have beaten Veritaserum and Parseltongue.

"We said thou lied, not that thou stated a falsehood."

"Why should the difference matter?"

The princess looked at him with a frown of her own. Her gaze searched his, but he did not know what she searched for.

She was not legilimising him... or perhaps... he deliberately brought a few 'horrid' memories to conscious attention. She failed to react, so she probably wasn't bypassing his barrier some other way. Was she doing anything at all?

At last, she asked, "Thou truly dost not know?"

"If I did, I would not have inquired."

"Then it would seem thou art not better than everypony else," she declared definitively. "Not at everything. Not at the most important things, even."

Mr. Book openly scowled. If this was a dominance play-

"Honesty, Mystery Book, is not a matter of truth and falsehood. It is a matter of candidness and deception. Thou were not being candid just now. Thou intended to deceive us with thy statement, regardless of its veracity."

Mr. Book's scowl turned thoughtful.

Parseltongue did not work that way. Even Veritaserum did not work that way. Lying with truths is how a weak Occlumens, or a clever non-Occlumens, first learns how to counter the drug. Or at least, counter a single drop of it. Stronger doses did encourage something like actual honesty in those who could not protect their thoughts. But Parseltongue forced truth, not honesty, which is why you had to be careful about your phrasing if you wanted to deceive another while using the language.

So, candidness/honesty works along different principles from truth and veracity? You couldn't intend deceit at all? No deception with truths? No lies by omission?

"That is," continued the princess, "thou intended more deception than thy usual baseline, which is far higher than normal."

A usual baseline as a result of his ever-present Occlumency personality, perhaps? He should bring in Mr. Silver at some point, to confirm or disprove the guess.

"We take it thou dost not own a cloud-walking necklace."

His direct attention was brought back to the conversation at hand. "I do."

"Then we take it thou didst not use it on thy visits to Cloudsdale."

"I sometimes did."

As an intellectual exercise, to see if it would work on certain items, and non-magical animals.

The princess had a hoof on the bridge of her nose – something she did not do when she was in the presence of guards or nobles. "Thou dost not need thy necklace to stand atop clouds, yes?"

There was a long pause, during which only the muffled clicking of hooves against carpet could be heard.

She was looking at his cloak, which lay upon a seemingly flat back.

Her tone, when she spoke, was sympathetic. "If thou dost not wish to speak of it, we understand."

Again, the clicking of hooves.

This wasn't the first time a pony had assumed he wore the cloak to hide a deformity – a birth defect, or scars, or some such. The smarter pegasi in Mr. Silver's class had come to that conclusion, and a few had even attempted to condole him about it. He had not deigned to respond to their condolences. He would have done the same here but for the significance of the asker.

Now, how to put it honestly, but not too honestly, so as to stay along his current 'baseline'...

Eventually, the doors to the dining hall came into view.

"It is not a matter of shame," Mr. Book said. "Or even embarrassment. More of an annoyance than anything." All true and honest statements. "Perhaps I will speak of it later." Even if he was still hiding the full story.

He opened the doors for his employer, giving her no chance to continue.

"Welcome, sister," said Princess Celestia. She nodded to him in acknowledgement. "Fool."

He nodded in return. "Supreme commander, dear leader, her royal majesty, diarch of the sun, beloved and respected Equestrian-"

"Stop that," she chided.

Her sister his employer was giggling.

"Apologies, princess. If you wish that I not use your official titles-" accumulated through centuries of leadership and recorded in various books he'd read "-you need only not use mine."

And they were seated. Today was a buffet, with portions of food floating onto plates in an orderly pattern, directed by the head butler's magic.

As usual, Mr. Book took out two packets and emptied them.

"What is that you add to your water?" asked the day princess.

"Brown powder."

The princess took a breath that was slightly louder than usual – the only sign she ever gave of annoyance or discontent, on most occasions. "Yes, I see that."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I would like to know what it truly is."

"Brown powder."

His employer giggled again.

"What is the brown powder made from and why are you drinking it?" Celestia asked precisely.

Mr. Book thought for a moment. If the Element of Honesty's lie-detection was not a matter of truth and falsehood, but of deception...

"It comes from the corpses of countless creatures," he said with a seemingly flat-toothed grin, "and I drink it to sate my carnivorous bloodlust."

Some of the nearby nobles excused themselves from the table.

There was that sisterly exchange of glances, after which Celestia sighed, and continued eating her own meal.

Mr. Book sipped his insect shake, his grin shifting from external and fake to internal and real.

His guess had been correct.

His employer detected deliberate deceitfulness and conveyed that to Celestia.

His employer was right.

He was being deliberately deceitful.

He had just spoken the literal truth, and the former Element of Honesty didn't suspect a thing, exactly as he had intended.

This might prove useful.

Author's Note:

THIS A/N IS NOW OBSOLETE, BUT IT IS BEING LEFT UP FOR THE SAKE OF NOT ERASING HISTORY

This may be a bit sudden, but the Stone of Permanence is going to be tackled next chapter, and I have a request of my current readers.

When I first wrote the next chapter, I felt like I didn't have enough 'plausible but wrong' ideas on how the stone COULD work. Now I DO feel like I have enough, but it still feels a little barren, and it's hard for me to tell my brain to keep thinking of ideas since I already know the answer I intend to go with.

Anybody who wants to contribute to this story, just comment how you think the stone might work. Imagine you were Harry or Voldemort and you were trying to solve it. What would you try? Imagine you were writing the story yourself. What would YOU make the solution? Remember that the base solution from the original story (placing the stone on the thing to be made permanent for three minutes and change) is NOT the answer. Any good ideas you suggest might make it into the chapter as failed ideas that had been worth trying.

Heck, some of you might even guess the actual answer. Which wouldn't be all that helpful, from my perspective, but would be impressive. Thanks in advance to all helpers, if anybody DOES help. If the next chapter is already up, consider this author's note obsolete.

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