Rehabilitation Part 9.2: Drastic Measures
As his advisor had guessed, 'coming to peace' with his background in light of all the new information she'd given him was much easier said than done. And he had no idea how to go about it. Whenever he thought about her comments on his past, his worldview, his martial arts master, his memories, etc., his mind would go in many different directions, but none of them felt particularly peaceful.
His thoughts were certainly critical of his past tormentors in new and interesting ways.
But were they peaceful?
No.
After making no progress at all, at least according to Luna, she recommended that he focus on other things – his passions, his work – and think about his emotions in real time as he encountered stimuli in the real world. He should try to connect his current actions with habits learned from years past.
Is he imitating Mrs. Cole, or his bullies? Is he imitating someone positive, like Slughorn or Dumbledore? Is he imitating anyone at all, or is his behaviour somehow original? But no matter what, even if he can't see where it's coming from, he should always ask if it's truly how he wants to act.
So that's what he did. Keeping as much of a third eye on himself as he consciously could, he threw himself into the other long-term project he intended to complete in Equestria.
Passion or fear. Which produces the fastest and most widespread results? He's already collected data on fear with the Death Eaters, so he only needs to test passion at the moment, and he had a good way to do that.
Celestia's solution to the 'Earth pony colts want to blast each other with spells' problem wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting.
On his recommendation (conveyed to Celestia through Luna), dueling dojos across Equestria were each provided a supply of Unicorn Helmets by the crown, to be kept and used within the dojo itself. Each Duel Master was instructed to accept any non-unicorn who applied. They were also instructed to treat those disciples no differently than unicorns. Since it was Celestia – the highest-ranking Duel Master in Equestria – who personally gave these instructions, there was little pushback.
On Riddle's direct recommendation, these dojo were encouraged to compete against each other in a different way from before. In addition to promoting and sponsoring individuals to meet and duel in tournaments, each dojo could form one team of twenty. These teams, like sports teams, would meet and compete, much like the reserves they witnessed on the repeater screens, representing both their home town and their dojo.
Riddle implemented a mandatory race ratio of 50% Earth ponies, 25% Unicorns, 15% Pegasi/Thestrals, and 10% Changelings, with 10% wiggle room on the composition. That came close to reflecting the current population across Equestria. If any individual area lacked for pegasi or Changelings (or somehow one of the other races), that's what the 10% wiggle-room was for.
The wiggle-room was NOT to be used to max out on unicorns, he had Celestia warn the masters. At this stage, that species limitation existed mainly to prevent full-unicorn teams from dominating the scene. At the end of the day, even with Unicorn Helmets, the other species were only half as magically strong as unicorns when it came to spellcasting, and he didn't want to snuff out any pegasi or earth pony passions by allowing that unfair reality to impact the sport. Not yet, anyway.
On Discord's request, this new expansion on the Equestrian sport of dueling was always hosted with Circus as the battlefield. His request was granted on the condition that Discord produce the many, many portkeys himself. He also had to swear there would be nothing chaotic about the portkeys or his intentions in general. With what had looked like a pained expression, and after saying, "The things I do for love," he had sworn that his only intention was to introduce more chaos and attention to his baby battlefield, and that he would do nothing chaotic with the portkeys, nor would he try to violate that promise with clever wording or tricks.
This meant he actually had to learn how to make them, he couldn't just snap them into existence, otherwise they would be chaotic. He even went so far as to manifest a horn for himself and study a few library books on unicorn magic. To reduce the workload on himself, he made one large portkey per 'dueling' team. The recursive portkeys took each whole team, along with their coach, to and from their home dojos and Circus.
The first season of competition was a jumbled mess, but it allowed them all, Celestia, Riddle, and Discord, to adjust the dojos and the rules and the battlefield accordingly.
The dojos were given better instructions by Celestia. Think of it like a military game, not a series of self-contained duels. It is not a tournament of consecutive fights, it is a mock war. And since they cannot practice at home, allow non-unicorns to come to the dojo and practice at any time under competent supervision. This required an increase of staff, which Celestia paid for out of pocket, like the helmets themselves.
The race ratio was lightened by Riddle. Now the only restriction was a maximum of 25% unicorns per team. There had been many complaints that the quotas for pegasi and Changelings were hard to fill. He also allowed there to be more than one team per dojo.
And finally, Circus steadily changed over time. Discord must have somehow shown it pictures, or demonstrated different environments with a snap of his fingers, for it was beginning to branch out from the biomes of forests and plains to more exotic environs like deserts, tundras, and even ghost towns.
Celestia's doubts about the 'goodness' of Circus were put to rest when, on the three occasions where ponies seemed like they were about to be seriously hurt by the environment – overheating in the desert, freezing/drowning after falling into a frozen lake, and accidentally falling off a cliff – Circus immediately modified the environments by replacing the hot desert with a snowfield, substituting the cold lake with a sauna, and putting a large trampoline at the bottom of the cliff. (When all the trampoline did was throw the non-air-cushion-capable earth pony colt back up into the air again, a large cloud took its place. The cloud-walking enchantment had been integrated into the Unicorn helmets, so the Earth pony did land safely, not phase through.)
Unlike Hogwarts, Circus was not shy about changing in front of witnesses, though from what Riddle could tell, Circus preferred to stick to a theme if it could, reverting the changes as soon as ponies were out of danger.
The sport of dueling in general had, unsurprisingly, exploded in popularity across Equestria. The number of unicorn duelists alone had tripled in the past year. It wasn't long before other, non-pony species began asking if unicorn helmets would work for them too. That included Griffons, Minotaur, Diamond Dogs, and even a certain Dragon…
"Pleaaase, Twilight?"
"I'm sorry, Spike, but the answer is still 'no'."
"I promise I'll be careful! I'll follow all the rules! Pinkie promise!" He even went through the motions and the motto.
"Spike, dragons aren't even allowed to duel yet. Celestia hasn't made her decision. We don't even know if a helmet will work for you, let alone if it'll be safe."
"I don't mind if I'm the guinea pig," said Spike. "I help you with experiments all the time, right?"
"Spike!" Twilight firmly rebuked. "That is extremely dangerous! You could get hurt."
"I'm not afraid," said Spike, puffing out his chest. "I'm brave! I can handle it."
"It's not a matter of being brave, Spike. It's too risky."
Tears began to well in her little brother's eyes. "But I want to cast magic! I really, really want to!"
"You already can do magic. You can send letters!"
"That's not real magic! I don't want to be a magic mailbox all my life! I want to cast real spells!"
"I'm sorry, Spike, but you're a dragon. We can't always get what we want."
"Then I wish I wasn't a dragon!" Spike shouted.
"Spike!" Twilight gasped.
"I wish I was a unicorn like you!"
"Spike, don't say that!"
"I wish I was something that could do magic!" he continued, undaunted. Then he broke down on the floor. "I just want to be like you."
Snap.
"Wish granted," said a voice.
"Discord!" Twilight said, jumping back at the Draconequus's sudden appearance in her library.
"Twilight!" he repeated, jumping back at her sudden jumping.
"Huh?" said the voice of Spike.
Then Twilight understood what might have just happened. She shoved Discord out of the way and saw- that Spike didn't look any different from before. He wasn't the unicorn she'd been expecting. He wasn't a draconequus either. He was still the same purple dragon.
"What did you do to him, Discord?!" Twilight demanded.
"Hey, hey, hey, what's with the hostility?" asked Discord. "I just put one of your suggestions to use and granted the wish of your dearest dragon. I just hit two pegasi with one lightning strike."
"What. Did. You. DO?!"
"Made him more like me, of course. Now he can do magic, just like he wished for!"
"You-" Twilight said, her brain hiccupping as she understood his words. "You- you- change him back! This instant!"
"Can't," Discord sing-sang. "No take-backsies, remember?"
She didn't respond to this in words. She lowered her horn, aiming it directly at him. She then began charging it with Harmony magic, which she had researched until the point of being able to cast it herself, without help. She hadn't researched further since it didn't seem to be an avenue to get Silver back, or go to where he went, but it would be more than enough for the depowered Draconequus.
"Hey now, don't look at me like that," said Discord, though he didn't sound nervous. "I did you a favor." His body snaked through the air until he was next to Spike, and he placed a paw on his little shoulder. "This has been really bumming him out, you know. Remember how he asked for that magic set for Hearth's Warming? Think about it, Miss Magic. Why do you think he wanted to become a magician, even though he couldn't use magic? His favorite pony in the whole world is trying to become Mistress of Magic, and he can't even cast one lousy spell. He's being used like a slave to do minutes, sometimes hours of manual labor that she could do in seconds with a glow of her horn. And she didn't even care. Do you know how that was making him feel? Like poop. That's how it was making him feel."
Twilight blinked a few times. She… hadn't thought of that. "Spike?" she asked, looking at where he was getting his sniffling under control. "Is that… is that really how you felt?"
He didn't speak, just sniffled some more and nodded.
She rushed forward and hugged him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Spike. I didn't know. I thought… I thought you liked helping."
"I do like helping," said Spike, hugging her back. "But I want to really help. You know?"
"And now you can," said Discord, ruining their moment. "You still can't cast a lousy spell, but who needs those? You can do something way better. Just blow some of that magic fire on your paw, picture what you want, give a snap, and poof! Out comes the chaos. Why don't you give it a try?"
"But I don't know what I want," said Spike.
"I know what I want," said Twilight. "I want him out of here."
Spike didn't hesitate. He blew his green fire onto his fire-immune paw and snapped his claws.
The door to the library opened, and a cane appeared around Discord's neck, whose eyes grew comically wide.
"Thank you!" Spike shouted as Discord was dragged across the room.
"You're welcooooome," Discord shouted in reply.
Then the door slammed shut, and Twilight and Spike went back to having their moment.
About one month after his happiness advisement began in full and had some of his own past examined by Princess Luna, it was still the case that every 'happy' thought he tried to use as fuel for a Patronus would produce a 'wrong' feeling, with some thoughts being more severely 'wrong' than others.
His happiness at Blueblood's downfall was very wrong. The happiness he'd first felt when Mr. Potter had destroyed that Dementor was mildly wrong. The happiness he felt when drinking a glass of water, after deliberately dehydrating himself before that point, was simply wrong. He was getting to the point where he could predict the severity and type of the 'wrong' feeling even before he raised his wand and completed the motions and words of the spell.
When he had described the problem to his advisor, she said the 'wrong' feeling might prove useful. She suggested he quantify the process, categorize the thoughts he's tried thus far into 'wrongness' severities, then attempt to recreate the situations that produced the least 'wrong' feelings. He'd already been doing that, somewhat, but her words encouraged him to explicitly write it down with quill and parchment.
Soon after categorization, he'd realized that Mr. Potter was involved in all of the least wrong memories. With him gone, the next memories on the list were his recent 'therapy' sessions.
He'd already presented to Luna all of his own 'trauma' that he was willing to present, had already seen them laid bare in her critical examination. Those sessions had been helpful, but not conclusive. They certainly were not enough to fuel a Patronus, even if they were some of the more promising thoughts he'd tried.
Once he'd exhausted all memories he was willing to share from his past, there had been nothing left to try but Luna's Night Court memories, which she allowed him to browse on his own time.
On his request, she collected a copy of every Night Court session that she could remember. She turned them into a large stack of paintings in her Astral Plane, then gave them to him for personal viewing. She had warned him that not all of the sessions were as productive as the ones she'd shown him thus far; maybe one in four, at best, reached that level. She had been carefully curating her selection of memories earlier so that he would never see a complete dud, but now she was giving him free reign, as he had requested.
His own 'usefulness' estimate was closer to one in eight, or maybe one in ten of the memories. But somehow, he found himself willing to sit through hours of useless dribble just for those few moments of key insight. He spent some time early on devoted to research and development, but he made up that time and then some in the course of watching the boring ones at faster speeds, which had been the point of the R&D. He only slowed the memories down to real time during the better moments.
Now, three months later, he had exhausted most of his advisor's memories as well, and he didn't feel like finishing the rest. It was four months after his happiness advisement began in full, and he still could not produce even a flicker of Patronus light. There were no strategies left to try, no more obvious next steps. He felt more capable of achieving happiness than ever, but it was still out of his grasp.
He was still missing something. Hopefully he was not missing the 'world view adjustment' described by his advisor. Hopefully it was simply the case that he was missing the happy thought which would let him cast the spell.
Tomorrow would be Summer Sun, meaning that tonight would be his employer's birthday. Last year he had asked what she wanted for her birthday out of courtesy, and she had replied that he shouldn't force himself to give her something if his heart isn't in it, and she could tell when his heart isn't in it, so he ended up getting her nothing tangible. The only thing she required of him on her birthday was his company, and the only thing she wanted from him, some birthday in the future, was to see his genuine smile.
So even though it's her birthday, she might be fine with a brainstorming session for happy thought ideas…
"I don't think so," Luna said once she understood what he was asking. "My fool, I believe your entire perspective on happiness is mistaken. For one, you cannot force these things, and for two… the key component you are missing is not a happy memory. The thing you are missing is true friendship and kindness."
Years ago he would have laughed. Now he just sighed. "Meaning?"
"You are missing love. Not romantic love," she said immediately after to avoid that mess of a topic. "You are far too smart to confuse lust with love, like so many ponies do. Others might be able to fuel a Patronus that way, even if it shatters later in their heartbreak… then again, it likely wouldn't work if it was shallow. But romance will not be your route to happiness either way, I don't think."
"I am thankful for that small mercy," her fool said in a frustrated tone. "You are certain that platonic love is what I am missing?"
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "You are missing that unmistakable feeling when somepony else cares for you, causing you to care for them in return."
"And you are certain that I am capable of feeling that emotion myself?" he asked.
"No," she answered sadly. "But I have taught you every abstract lesson about relationships that I know. Now you must apply the lessons to real life. You should be able to recognize and avoid patterns of abuse and negativity. Now it is time to create bonds and positivity. Mingle with the reserves you have so excellently trained. Open your mind to the Changelings and see if any would like to talk. Open your Changeling senses in general."
"We aren't having that argument again," her fool said, flatly and predictably.
"Correct. We aren't. It is now an ultimatum. In my capacity as your advisor on Patronus happiness, I am giving you this decree. If you wish to see progress beyond this point, you must open your senses."
"And if I don't?"
"If you do not, it may take centuries for you to find happiness, if you find it at all."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I can cast the spell and you cannot," she said. Then, deciding to use a trope he once told her about, "In this, I am your mysterious old wizard. It is my area of expertise. I do not have to explain myself. The lesson will speak for itself once it is about a month in motion."
"I don't think I could last a month," her fool said honestly.
"Perhaps not," Luna agreed. "I never said you could not take breaks. But you will need at least an hour of empathy-sensing each day, preferably when surrounded by ponies who care for you."
"That sounds insufferable."
"I know," she said - in the sense that she knew his perspective, not that she agreed with it. "But you must do it even though you don't like it. It will be difficult, draining, and frustrating, but it is the necessary leg work you must suffer in order to grow, like the exercises you give to your soldiers for them to grow. They must train their muscles and reflexes and minds and magic in order to become effective fighters, and many of them hate it in the moment, especially the physical conditioning. But they always appreciate it afterwards, don't they? So much so that they maintain the good habits of exercise and teamwork that they learned from you, even when you are not there to enforce it later. If your soldiers can put up with your daily training for months on end, then you can put up with this for at least a month."
She could see on her fool's face that he didn't like the plan in the slightest. "Fine," he said. "One hour a day."
"And not sporadically," she said. "Like Discord's parole with Fluttershy, it must be one full, uninterrupted hour, and you must be in the presence of at least one happy pony from whom, if you were a Changeling, you would be able to feed."
"You are suggesting I spend a full empathic hour with you each day?"
"No, I am suggesting you find your own creative way to meet the assignment. It's as simple, and as difficult, as going out and talking with ponies. Keen Eye, Thorax, your soldiers, and yes, myself, are the most obvious ideas. Can you think of any others?"
"…Perhaps Twilight Sparkle," he said after twenty full seconds. "But then again, perhaps not."
Luna nodded. "It is telling that your excellent mind can only produce one alternative, which you yourself don’t even deem good."
"Telling how?" he asked in a voice that indicated he might or might not have taken offense.
"It tells just how difficult the problem is for you. It goes to show how few friends you have. In fairness, that is not a bad thing in theory. In this age, it is far better for to have a single true friend than to have a thousand acquaintances. But you must nurture that friendship. You must make time for your friends. You must connect with them. That is your true assignment. It may be me or somepony else, so long as the feelings are there."
"The feelings aren't there."
"So long as the feelings are there on their end," she amended. "It will take time, but with your empathy sense active, it should eventually arise on yours as well."
Her fool sighed. "You it is, then. You said an hour a day, yes? Should I begin now?"
She blinked. "Why not the others?"
"You are the least annoying," he replied. "And you have insights the others do not. And I'm here for my job anyway. You're both the most convenient and, frankly, the best of the available options."
"Pragmatic," she said. "Not that I disapprove. It probably is for the best to start this way before attempting to branch out. Are you ready to feel my care, or do you need a minute?"
"I am," he said. "So long as your own interests are platonic," he added. "And remain platonic."
"Oh, they are, and they will," she said.
"She says while naked on the bed," he murmured.
She giggled at his human sensibilities. Indeed, she was not wearing her regalia at the moment, and she was currently reclined on her side, her bed beneath her with an open and long forgotten book on the mattress. But that did not have the same implications between ponies as it did between humans.
"I say while fully furred on my resting cushion," she corrected him. "Would you rather we leave and wander the castle during your lesson? Maybe go to the bathing room?" Because if he can joke about it, so can she.
"No," he said firmly.
She nodded. "Tonight, we shall have your lesson in the privacy of my room. You can branch out once you have grasped the basics."
After that lesson, he was utterly exhausted, and not in a particularly good mood, so he went to do something relaxing. He had saved a few of his employer's memories for just such an occasion, since they were often so relaxing that they put him to sleep.
Unfortunately, it was not a relaxing memory. It was actually interesting. And highly relevant to his current problem.
One part in particular stood out.
"In preparation for this session," Luna said at one point well into the Night Court session, "I asked all my friends: Have you ever seen a really bad pony turn good?"
This session was with a young mare who had a banshee of a mother – constant and extreme verbal tirades, insults, profanity, vulgarity, along with physical abuse, which an onlooker would never suspect from the outside, since the family looked picture perfect. That part wasn't unusual by this point, or to Riddle's worldview in general. Other petitioners have had similar experiences, and they would always be hopeful that their tormentor could improve / be fixed / change with time. Luna would always, every time, try to disabuse them of that fantasy, and this session was no different.
"You know what they all said?" past Luna had continued. "They all said the same answer."
The petitioner, in an extremely hesitant voice, gave the obvious response, and Luna nodded.
"The tipping point is restitution," she had said. "Can you ever make up for what you did? When the tipping point is passed, when restitution becomes functionally impossible, bad ponies can no longer become good. And not just from the victim's perspective. I think, if they ever genuinely felt the horror they've done, realizing they can never make up for it, they'd throw themselves into a cockatrice."
In other words, commit suicide.
He had never been even the slightest bit worried about doing such a thing, and he still wasn't, but if that was really true, if casting the Patronus charm really required him to go from being a 'bad' person to a 'good' person as his advisor conceives of it…
Well, it was a catch-22. He would prefer to be on the other side of the mirror first, where his many Horcruxes would prevent any suicide attempts from succeeding. On this side he could, theoretically, destroy his only two existing ones with Fiendfyre, unless he obliviated himself of either the Wand or the Cloak's location, which (a) he was unwilling to do and (b) would just get him horcrux-trapped again. If he was on the other side, suicide wouldn't be possible. But in order to get to the other side, he would need to cast the Patronus charm, the learning process of which might or might not make him feel like he should kill himself.
That was when he began considering what he had written off earlier. He began considering, not Obliviating all his past memories like Mr. Potter suggested, but locking away his Voldemort memories in particular. He would allow himself to remember the general facts, of course, just not the specifics.
He would remember that he was Voldemort, but he would not remember much of what Voldemort had done. He would remember how to make his Great Creation, and that he made 12 of them on the other side – water, air, fire, earth, and void, as well as the initial, stupid seven. He would remember some of the military tactics Voldemort had used. He would remember Voldemort things that did not seem to involve 'moral horror'. He would remember everything from Equestria, and all his conversations with Mr. Potter. In short, if it was something he hesitated to tell Luna, he wouldn't remember it.
The plan as he imagined it was to lock away all other Voldemort-related memories. Just as a precaution. He would unlock them as soon as the risk of suicide had been eliminated.
He still hadn't decided to actually do it by the time he came across another worrisome moment in the very same Night Court session that introduced the problem.
It was only a small part, but past-Luna said that the emotional empathy part of the brain is like the language centre, though she hadn't used those precise words. If you reach age eight or nine without hearing language or learning to speak it yourself, you never really learn language afterwards. (This he already knew thanks to Mr. Potter's collection of books.) Your brain misses that window.
Similarly, past-Luna said, if you reach age eight or nine without learning emotional empathy, you miss that window. You never really learn it. You can only ever mimic goodness, not truly feel it.
Current-Luna has said, many times, that emotional connection is necessary for happiness. He can now see why she's so focused on his Changeling sense, which might or might not be a magical bypass to his missing the learning window in his own development, which he might or might not have actually missed in the orphanage.
At that point he left the Astral Plane, going so far as to research what was necessary to develop 'emotional empathy', and luckily (or perhaps wishfully), modern Equestrian psychologists have formalized it by now.
Emotional empathy apparently requires thirteen different sections of the brain to work in tandem. It also requires a specific pattern and sequence of development in order to achieve.
Even a brief skim of the work suggested that he hadn't had anything close to what was needed in his own childhood – fur (i.e. skin) contact, eye contact, emotional mirroring, especially with the mother, were only three of the required stimuli. And you needed more than just brief exposure, you needed constant, regular, interactive feedback. Like Mr. Potter likely received from both his original and adopted parents. Like Ms. Granger likely received from her parents. And like he himself never got.
If all of that was true, if he had missed his chance for happiness, as he initially suspected during Mr. Potter's first and only happiness lesson, if that mental power was simply missing like a lost limb, and if the Changeling sense wasn't a bypass, the only solution he could see was Mr. Potter's suggested 'cheat' in that very same lesson. Giving himself the body of a child (a foal, in this case), obliviating himself of everything, and 'growing up' in Modern Equestria for at least ten years really does seem like the only way to possibly fix that issue.
And he was not going to do that.
So, he decided, he really would give his employer's suggestion a try. He really would use his Changeling Empathy sense for an hour straight, each day. It was far better than the alternative. And he would also begin locking away his Voldemort memories, one-by-one, until he no longer had any extreme memories of 'hurting' others.
This involved his astral plane, a book, the reversible version of the Obliviation spell, and many long hours of work.
In order for the memory locking spell to work, you need to know, in abstract, the memories you are going to unlock in the future, and he's using the book to lock away the abstracts themselves.
Once an individual memory's description was written on page, he locked it. The words on the page would then disappear, like his diary of old. In this case, the 'unlocking' clause was his learning the Patronus charm. Thus will his memories be inaccessible until he has learned the Patronus charm.
It was a slow process, but not too slow. He made regular progress, suspecting that he might be done within the year. He noticed, as he did, many bookmarks and earmarks being added to the tome on his 'Cutie Mark', which was mildly amusing.
He engaged in Changeling empathy sessions with his employer in the meantime.
Unlike all other pursuits in his life, it took months to grasp even 'the basics' of the behaviour that theoretically builds the foundations for a connection that might lead to Patronus happiness eventually in the distant future.
He had sighed when he realized this.
Then he sucked it up and started putting in the hours and effort needed to see improvement. He still cares little for Loyalty, but he has always been willing to implement the virtue of Hard Work, the true stuff of Hufflepuff, in the pursuit of his ambitions.
His relationship with Princess Luna thus far has been a business one, from his perspective. The transition from transactional to personal wasn't easy for him, but he learned many things along the way.
He had trained himself to notice his automatic negativity. Now he's training to see the positive side of things, and not just so his mind could go there easily. It made sense – as a powerful wizard who's never even gotten close to casting a Patronus Charm, the obvious strategy is to look at the things he's been doing all his life and try the exact opposite for a while to see if it makes a difference. And if he's been seeing the cynically negative side of thing all throughout the unhappy decades of his past, maybe he should try seeing the optimistically positive side of things, just to mix it up for a while.
Nor could he simply lie with Luna on the looming lookout. He had to slowly, carefully, genuinely find things that were positive about others, even from his own perspective. And he had to be polite and pleasant to be around. With diligent effort, he behaved in a way that doesn't cause others to feel negative emotion.
It was bitter work, done with a purely long-term goal in mind.
Initially, it was extremely annoying. Luna's suggestion of going to the pub regularly used by the reserves and ordering a drink had been an extremely bad idea. Everypony simply avoided him.
After a few months, the behaviours became simple habit. Finding and inviting troubled ponies to Luna's Night Court so he could see her in live action, not past memory, had been a much better idea, one that his employer also appreciated. Having exhausted all of her explicit memories (there had been many more sessions, but they were ones that she didn't remember), he set out to create a new source.
Now, it's a bit gratifying when he succeeds at deliberately making others feel positive emotion. When a joke lands, he feels the amusement of others. If he compares it to the situations where it's only his own amusement being satisfied, he could admit that one experience is better than the other.
The sessions with his advisor also changed over time.
At first, he was awkward, stiff, and unbalanced. He was extremely used to talking to others, dictating, and knowing exactly what they are thinking. He was not at all used to talking with someone, listening, and feeling exactly how they are feeling.
One aspect of the Night Court sessions that he did not explicitly notice until recently was just how much she listened to the petitioners and did not interrupt, at least until she had formed a decent picture of their past. Learning how to listen was also difficult for him.
But with time, he grew accustomed to it. Hour sessions turned to hour-and-fifteen minute sessions, followed by hour-and-thirty, followed by two-hour sessions.
He could now stand his advisor's presence indefinitely, even with his Changeling sense active. New chemical signals in his brain directly impacted his thoughts, making him relaxed and lethargic, though there were plenty of things that could snap him out of it, even while the sense was cranked up to maximum. She was both wrong and right that it wouldn't impact his thinking; when he had a genuinely good reason to think, his thoughts were just as fast as ever, maybe even faster. When he didn't, his mind wouldn't bother.
At least the conversations weren't shallow. His advisor discussed important events in her life and his, though his own contributions were often hampered by his inability to be fully honest. It would often be the case that he would remember a Voldemort-related memory, think to himself 'that one's being locked away next', and then 'clam up'.
She took these hesitations to mean that he was remembering some trauma he hadn't shown her. Whenever it happened, she would always notice, she would always stop talking, and she would give him the physical contact that the pony psychology books suggest is necessary to develop the brain.
The process became so routine that he was no longer annoyed by it, which was an improvement from earlier. He never hugged her back, but he no longer flinched, nor did he feel the impulse to flinch, or extricate himself, or even frown.
In the most recent month, he hadn't been able to remember any Voldemort-related memories that still needed locking away. None arose at random. Conversations were often relaxing, not stressful, when he only had one important secret left. (Not including lost lore. That was the sort of secret she actually respected.)
One area he had not made progress was his polyphasic sleeping. He could never sleep for longer than thirty minutes. At first he thought it might have to do with REM, and he even said as much to his advisor. She said it was possible, that REM is typically when dreams begin in full, and if he doesn't dream, he might be waking just before dreaming. But REM typically doesn't begin until around ninety minutes, not thirty, so it's possibly something else…
When he arrived for his empathy session – two hours before dinner as usual – his advisor was doing something he'd never seen her do before, though he knew by now that she had the talent.
Multiple blank canvases were propped on a wall while one canvas stood on an easel, the beginnings of a painting being brushed onto the paper. Light from the late evening sun streamed into the room, directly onto where Luna lay. She was on her bed, on her side, her magic holding the brush about three feet away.
She said nothing as he approached, focused on her art.
He said nothing as he approached, seeing no reason to interrupt.
After ten seconds of standing in silence, just as he was beginning to feel annoyed at being ignored, she lifted a wing. The invitation was clear, though its optionality was not. Was he allowed to say no? Probably. Did he want to say no? Hm… he didn't have any strong feelings one way or another. He would have instantly refused before all this began. Now…
He shrugged, stepped forward, stepped down, put his own side against her, and watched her paint, since she didn't seem ready to speak. Perhaps it was like reading a good book, and she did not wish to be interrupted until she got to a decent stopping point. Or perhaps it was like any other task. Interruptions to progress are always annoying, no matter the goal.
His empathy sense was on – he was going to count this as part of his mandatory session whether she chose to speak or not. Peace of mind enveloped him, as it always did, making it harder to think about complex topics. Or rather, making it harder to want to think about them. If he had a 'good' reason, his mental faculties would return with a vengeance. As it stood, he had no reason at all, so his mind was relaxed.
"Have you ever wanted to be an artist?" asked Luna.
"No," he said. In these conversations, it was often the case that he ended up saying little. Sometimes, he said nothing at all.
"Do you have any creative outlets?"
"Plotting and strategy," he replied.
"Unrelated to war?"
"Magic."
"Unrelated to power?"
"No."
She was silent as she dipped her current paintbrush in a bucket of water, used a spell to shake the bristles free of moisture, then began on a new colour and a new part of the painting. "Is there any art you enjoy as an onlooker?"
"Little from Equestria," he said. "I enjoyed a few plays on the other side. And a muggle movie or two."
"Movie?"
"They are stories that are recorded, edited, and played at a different date. If a director doesn't like a scene in the creation process, he can cut it, or he can order the actors to perform another take. The final product is a collection of all the best versions of each scene. Otherwise, they are similar to plays."
Luna tilted her head as she continued brushing the canvas. "What about the classics?"
"Meaning?"
"Painting, sculpting, opera."
"I've never once been moved by a picture, and I've seen most of what are considered to be the best works. If I had been born a century earlier, I would have enjoyed realism more than anything else, but muggle photography and wizard image inking spells have eliminated the need for realists. When I think about what it must have taken to make them, sculptures can be a bit more impressive than paintings, especially on the muggle end of things, but they're no more emotionally evocative than paintings. And I've never cared for opera. Or orchestra. Although…" he paused. "I can remember one play, and two movies, where the music was very memorable. Alone it would have been unremarkable. Combined with what I was watching…"
"You have refined tastes," Luna observed.
"Not quite," he pushed back. "It would be refined if I enjoyed fine art and orchestra. My tastes are… multidisciplinary. And my quality standards are very high. Just a song isn't enough. Just a scene isn't enough. Combine the two…" he trailed off with a shrug and a yawn. The sun shining on his dark fur, and the warm body beneath him were making him more lethargic than usual.
"What about reading a play, rather than watching it? Or perhaps novels?"
"I've found one or two moving," he admitted. "Plays, that is. And I've found a few novels to be interesting and engaging. But again, my quality standards are too high to enjoy most of what's out there."
"Have you ever thought of rectifying that by writing something yourself?"
"No…" he said, then paused. "Though I have considered writing a novel before," he remembered. For Mr. Potter's plot on how to have a 'soft landing' with the muggle world. That's another long-term plot he should be working on, come to think of it. "Or at least commissioning it. Why are you asking?"
"Many ponies find happiness in their creative outlets," said Luna. "Being able to point to something tangible and say 'I made that'… it brings a deep joy and pride that is hard to describe if you've never felt it yourself."
"I think I have felt it," he said. "Once."
"You have?" she asked. "When?"
He shook his head, an indication that she wouldn't like the answer, and if she can't see it herself, they should talk about something else.
"Ah," said Luna. "Your immortality?"
He nodded. "I have long referred to it as my great creation. Spell creation is dangerous. Ritual creation even more so. A powerful wizard might invent one powerful ritual in their lives. Trying for three would be suicide."
"And in the moment you succeeded at yours, how did you feel?"
"Very good," he answered. "Maybe better than I'd ever felt before. I was exultant. Happy for weeks. That memory doesn't work for a Patronus, though. I've tried."
"Perhaps because it involved you-know-what," she said, not saying 'murder' out lout.
"You think a memory of writing a novel would work better?"
"Not for casting the Patronus directly," she cautioned. "But I do think it would generally make you happier." She looked to a completed painting on the wall, one that had been in her room for as long as he's been working here, and he just now realized that she might have made it herself. It was good enough that he'd always assumed it had been purchased, or commissioned. Then she looked to a painting that was floating off to the side as if to dry, one that had probably just been made, and he could see the similarity, even if it wasn't as good. "You can feel that my own happiness is greater than usual, yes?"
"I can. It's different from usual."
"That is because it has compounded with my general happiness, and like I said, it can't be used for a Patronus. Not unless I give what I've made to someone I love, and they love it, and love me the more for it."
"Your sister?" he asked.
She nodded. "If my feelings, as I create this painting, are appealing to you, please consider creating something yourself. These feelings are not restricted to the far-distant future. They can be had as soon as you create something you enjoy. Though it might take a while to become skilled enough to satisfy your own standards."
He focused on her feelings as she painted. There were peaks and dips, and he managed to match them to moments that she made a good image, and moments that she made mistakes.
"Do you intend to teach me how to paint?" he asked.
"To be fully honest," said Luna, "I think writing would be much more suited to you. I read a few of your essays when you suggested that the public know you as the 'Court Scholar'. Your technical skill at language is more than good enough. You might have trouble imagining scenes and characters, but there are ways around that. Many artists draw inspiration from real events, for instance."
He nodded slowly. An idea was starting to form in his mind about what, exactly, he would be writing. Originally, the plan had been to find a good muggle novelist and false memory-charm them into writing a story about magical Britain. But maybe he could do it himself…
Luna looked to her unconscious fool. Once again, he'd managed to pass out in her presence. She was still reluctant to call it 'sleeping'.
She painted as she waited for him to wake. He'd be back in thirty minutes or so.
In thirty minutes or so, she herself fell asleep. Well, not quite. She was still aware, as she always was when her special talent activated on its own. It hasn't happened this way in a while. Harmony has not gone out of its way to force her into somepony's dream in over a year.
A simple query as to whose dream put her on high alert, instantly presenting her with a dilemma. Does she stay, or…
When Riddle woke, he was strangely peaceful. Strange because he didn't have his Changeling sense active at the moment, and yet he was still peaceful.
"Good morning," said a familiar voice from directly beside him, the vibrations of that voice reaching him through direct physical contact. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes," he said, then paused. That response had been honest. He had slept well.
"Do you remember what you dreamed about?"
"I don't dream," he reminded her.
"You did last night. If you think you did not, then you simply don't remember. Remembering isn't too important at this stage, but I'm happy to say that you've made progress."
Riddle blinked as he realized that the sun was coming in through the other side of the room. Luna's bedroom was inside one of Canterlot Castle's circular spires, allowing for the sun to come in from three of the four cardinal directions. There was also a row of completed paintings, hovering in the air as if to dry.
"Do not worry," said Luna. "I am allowed to miss Night Court if I wish. There were no petitioners last night."
And that cemented in his mind what had happened.
"But I'm afraid I must make a confession. And before that, an explanation."
He stayed silent, now used to the habit of simply listening.
"I can use my special talent in two fundamentally different ways. I may directly observe a pony's dreams, crafting something specific to ward a nightmare, or I can cast a general spell of repose, which allows a pony to better ward off their own nightmares. I would have much preferred to use the second one on you last night, but… that can only be done for a pony if their minds are capable of it."
That was similar to the automatic version of the false memory charm, where you simply allow an obliviated mind to fill in the gaps of what had happened with its own suggestibility. Experts often recommend that you don't use it on minds that are not suggestible, i.e. sufficiently intelligent and skeptical wizards.
"I can also ask for the name of the dreamer," continued Luna. " The automatic version always works in this age, though sometimes a direct oversight is more appropriate. But the automatic version often failed in the past. Once upon a time, if it did not work, nine times out of ten it was a case of severe abuse. I stayed with the dreamer for the night, then sent the guards in the morning. That is how it used to be." She sighed. "Which brings me to last night."
He blinked. Despite the fact that he now knew where this was going, he didn't immediately interrupt. He didn't even feel the impulse. He felt an odd sense of… apathy? Indifference? From himself, not her.
"You once said that your dreams are off limits, as the dreams of adults in general should be off limits. But right before that, you said that if I am involuntarily drawn into a dream, that should be an exception. And so I was put into a dilemma last night. When the automatic version failed, I had to ask myself if I should stay and ward your dreams directly. I could give you your first night of rest in perhaps decades. Or I could leave, wait for you to wake up, and ask you for permission for the next time it happened. But then it might take years before I could enter your dreams again, given that your window is so short, and impossible to predict on my end. I chose to stay and trust that you would not demand anything too unreasonable in recompense. Harmony does not do things on a whim, and if it decided it was time to help you sleep, then it was time to help you sleep."
Hm… she's right, the mirror likely does not do things on a whim. And indeed, his mind is currently more peaceful than it has ever been in living memory, at least when residing within a living brain. And that's despite hearing news that should have angered him, or at least annoyed him.
She had confessed right away, not trying to hide it at all. She had given a good reason for her actions, and she was right that he had allowed this circumstance as an exception, even if he hadn't been considering this exact edge case all the way back then. If he had considered it, he would have told her 'no' explicitly. But that was in the past. Mostly, he wasn't angry in the present because…
"What nightmares did you see?"
"The only true image was a dead man… only he wasn't quite dead. He had a terrible grin, and he was you, and he was beckoning you forth with an inviting finger. I think I can guess what that meant."
"A Dementor," he acknowledged. "A dark creature that drains life, happiness, and magic. Different minds see different things. Like you, I can see the symbolism. Did you see any other nightmares?"
"No. Once I banished first horror away, there were only flashes of fear. Fragments. Easily driven away."
He nodded. Even if she had seen something, it wouldn't have been a full memory. That's not how dreams work, as he had well learned by now, after years in her company. That's why he was so calm about this turn of events. That's why he hadn't felt an impulse to snap at her. And even if she could see memories while dream-walking, he'd locked his own worst memories away.
He frowned, feeling a different impulse altogether. An impulse to honesty. His inner phoenix was all for it.
"But the fears were incessant," Luna continued, unaware of his inner thoughts. "It has been a long time since I worked so hard to ward a single dreamer. I am almost positive it is the reason you cannot sleep. Whenever you try to enter REM, your terrors wake you. With a mind as efficient and exhausted as yours, I suspect you begin to enter REM in thirty minutes, not the standard ninety."
He sighed, stood from Luna's side, and walked towards the window, gazing out at the sunrise.
"I have a confession of my own."
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Given it seems memories make the person, then removing memories of age look to turn age back to when learning has a better chance of succeeding?
11337227
"Better chance", maybe, but honestly, I don't think the 'Obliviate everything and live as child' idea would ever really work. You can't obliviate language skills. Or intelligence. An adult mind living as a child might just cause MORE problems.
Is he going to drop the "I slip into a dissociative state and commit atrocities like a cat" bomb?
Lol, no.
really? erase your identity? Harry couldn't think of anything better than suicide? this contradicts even the stupid morality of this fanfiction, because this is a murder in order to prevent even more deaths.
He had forgotten about Harry. he also fits
Probably less of a problem for an Occlumens. Though I don't think Luna is aware he is one, unless I've missed something.
11337443
Not obliviate, but lock away the memories. That wasn't referencing Harry's suggestion from chapter 2. It was referencing Harry's suggestion from Rehabilitation Chapter Zero. This exchange:
And no, he didn't feel an overwhelming amount of happiness at creating Harry Potter. Maybe he felt something like fatherly affection eleven years later. But at the time he did it, he only felt negative emotion at his death and his failure.
11337535
She is. He's been teaching her Occlumency, remember? She was commenting about his muse, not his ability to imagine things.
11337587
I'm not talking about fatherhood and other things. I'm talking about the appearance of an equal at last (not just the same, he was going to make him ruler)
11337589
Apparently I have missed something, my mistake.
11337757
Even still, whether it's happiness at finding/making an equal, happiness at something like fatherhood, or happiness at averting the prophecy of doom about himself, the point is that he didn't feel any amount of happiness at that moment of not-triumph. All he felt was pain. If he had succeeded, he might have felt exhultant like he did when he made his Great Creation. But the fact is that he, in canon HPMoR, considered that moment to be one of his single greatest failures, given how drastic the consequences had been to him.
11338146
why does this make it unusable?
Quirrell forgot about his armies (in both worlds), as well as his conspiracies.
11338348
Just to be clear, you are asking why a massively unhappy memory is unusable to fuel a patronus charm?
11338890
memories of an equal are not the same as memories of creating an equal
11339206
Correct. And as this story, and I think HPMoR as well, clearly lays out, the memory of creating that equal is extremely unhappy, even if the later memories of interacting with that equal are better. Luna's question that you were quoting in your original comment was specifically asking about pride and joy from creation, not from happiness in general. So, once again responding to that original comment, Riddle didn't forget about the fact that his memories involving Harry are his least unhappy memories. It just wasn't relevant to Luna's question, because she wasn't asking about that. She was asking about creative outlets.
11339240
Ok. Still have armies and conspiracies.
11339308
He mentioned plotting and strategy in his first answer, but Luna shot it down for a reason. About conspiracies, the biggest example in his life would be creating the Death Eaters and Voldemort, but in HPMoR he was specifically asked if that had made him happy, and he had said 'no'. About the armies, I guess he 'created' them in some sense, but that would be closer to the pride and joy of teaching, not creation, and for THAT, his memories of successfully teaching Harry would be happier. And in the end, neither of those are creative outlets in the sense that Luna is asking the question. If I asked a teacher if they had any creative outlets, and they said 'my job', that isn't really a proper answer to the question.
11339454
he had quite a lot of fun with the help of conspiracies in the role of Professor Quirrell. the most telling example is the conspiracy against the armies of hooligans (when he laughed after hearing it)
creating armies was not his job, it helped with it, but it was not.
why is this the wrong question?
I also remembered: his body, which he created for himself with painstaking work.
11346515
there are more than 1 mirror in comics
the obvious solution is to make horcruxes when you're not the one killing.
11349050
4? Geeze, sorry to heat that; you have my sympathies. A score like that isn't normal, or a good thing, at least where I grew up. It's true that other things can compensate, but make no mistake. Children tend to reproduce the behaviors modeled by their parents, and while it's possible to break the cycle, it isn't easy, and it doesn't often happen. Bad parenting results in bad habits results in worse life outcomes. On average.
Regarding IQ tests, their primary purpose isn't to measure how well you'll do on IQ tests, their primary purpose is to measure a person's general ability to solve cognitive tasks. IQ tests are indeed a cognitive task, but so is school, your job, and many problems you'll have to solve in your life in general. It's related to a lot of uncomfortable statistics. Here's an article about some of them: https://www.vox.com/2016/5/24/11723182/iq-test-intelligence
I know it's Vox, but it's the only article I could find with some actual charts from a scientific study. In any case, it's crude and offensive to some people when it's said like this, but IQ is about equal to intelligence, intelligence is about equal to how smart you can become, and how smart you become affects many, many things about your life. Especially how well you do in your career, but also important things like whether you think it's a good idea to smoke because your friend said it's okay, whether you think it's a good idea to take out a massive loan, drive after drinking at the pub, punch that guy you don't like, eat that extra slice of cheescake, etc. etc. 'Delayed Gratification', being able to look into the future and see the consequences of your current actions, is less likely when you are less intelligent. Having an IQ of 80 as opposed to 120 at least doubles your risk of an early death. It's not the only factor for life outcomes; conscienciousness (hard work), for example, is the second most important factor to career success. But IQ IS the most solid predictor of life outcomes in psychology, more than behavior, personality, and even the ACE test.
And psychologists don't want to talk about it because of two societally scary thing about IQ: it's significantly influenced by genetics, and different races score differently on IQ tests, on average. It looks a lot like racial supremacy, in other words.
Lex Fridman has a recent interview that excellently breaks down just why this topic is simultaneously so important and so radioactive. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hppbxV9C63g
If you don't have time for the whole video, the associated clips are good enough.
11349517
SD did that? I wish I knew that sooner. That fic did have a few good ideas, though I couldn't push myself to finish it. Too boring for my tastes, among other things.
11348689
I got a 1. I’ve had a very easy life.
I thought the test might explain something about why I’m so sensitive and afraid of criticism, but I guess I’m just naturally that way.
11350507
Most people, especially creative types, are afraid of / dislike criticism. That wouldn't be a stand-out symptom of a low or high ACE. And a 1 is decent. Insulting it by calling it an 'easy' life isn't lightly done. So long as it's a good life, that's all that matters.
11350702
I suppose, but seeing how other people acted vs. how I acted, I always feel like I was a very timid person, and it only got worse during my late teenage years. And I also have diagnosed depression and anxiety, so there’s that.
I wouldn’t necessarily call it good. If I’ve ever felt patronus happiness, I don’t remember it.
... probably remove "a" before "most"?
Interesting that he has finally gone ahead with "lock away most/all of the unhappy memories" after all.
Say it, SAY IT!
To imagen that one could life a entire foalhood or even life, to than sudden awake to his own old self, away from anything remembering to experience before.
It's probably easier to start from a damaged, than a broken state.