Through the Looking Glass

Chapter 1 Through the Looking Glass

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was staring intently at his own reflection in a statley tall standing mirror.

No, he hadn’t transformed into one Draco Malfoy, miticulously fawning at his refelction, nor was he psyching himself up for another day of facing the fickle masses. He had another purpose in mind.

Harry and the mirror were standing in the dark, cold, and damp recesses of a certain Chamber of Secrets, the only place Harry knew for certainty that he would not be disturbed, due to the handy little feature of being the only one currently at Hogwarts even capable of opening it, he supposed there was some uses to his unexpected gift from Voldemort.

Some might think that choosing to hangout at a place where he nearly died (again) while fighting a 50 foot basilisk at the tender age of 12, after facing Voldemort (again) and being saved by some unexpected magical miracle (again) thus highlighting the trend of pure dumb luck that followed him around like an eager puppy, whether good or bad.

Though he supposed that it was apropus given it was the more prominent presence of the bad that had brought him to this point...

One Month previously...

His troubles, or at least the latest batch anyway, had all started when some murderous arse slipped his name into the Goblet of Fire, an artifact of great magical power that was, for some reason, relegated to choosing hapless idiots to risk thier lives in some forsaken tournament that should have been kept in the mothballs. Unfortunatly for Harry, the cup was so impartial a judge that it didn't discriminate between willing participation and unwilling.

Of course, the student body being what it was, he was unsuprised when more then half the school came right out of accusing him of entering himself into a tournament that would, in all likelyhood kill him.
'Why would I do that?!' he could exclaim, but the response back, and this actually coming straight from a certain jealous red haired prat who had once been his best friend, would be for the glorious fame and the pile of gold!

Sure he could admit he was rash at times, jumping into dangerous situations and such, but that was usually because the adults around him left him, and by consequence at times his friends, out to dry when, as the American's so colourfully put it, the shit hit the fan, and thus there was no choice but to take care of it himself. It may not have always been the right decision most of the time, but it was never for selfish reasons.

He wasn’t a glory hound nor an idiot as Snape accused him of at times, and after having his neck on the line so many times he wasn’t likely to want to risk it again.

Even now, after the fact, he still ground his teeth thinking about it.

Soon after his row with Ron, he had slipped away under his invisibility cloak in the dead of night and gone for the library in the vain hope that he would find someway out of this. He was not normally a big book reader, but when presented with the right motivations he could rival Hermione if he had to.

It was on his third night, his nerves wrung tighter then McGonagall’s hair from the constant jeering by his fellow students, Ron’s backstabbing idiocy and the sympathetic pitying looks from those few who did believe him, that he headed for the forbidden Restricted Section.

This time he had been more careful and had cast a silencing charm around the area in case he yanked out yet another cranky book like the first time he had ventured into this creepy place.

After one screamer, a book that caused a minor hurricane, and one that tried to eat his face, he stumbled across something promising…literally. He had been fighting off the face eater book when he tripped over the hem of his robe and smacked his head into a near by wall and consequently pressed a trigger somewhere on said wall that opened a small cubby.

Inside was an unassuming looking small book. So small, it looked no more then a few pages tucked between cracked dark purple leather with a silvery tassel attached to the spine.

Cautiously, he poked at the book inside with the tip of his wand a few times. When it didn’t leap at him he warily reached inside and pulled it out.

For something so small it felt surprisingly heavy and warm, making his fingers tingle pleasantly.That was when he was overcome with the strong urge to open the book, and so he did.

And thus the fateful night he would meet his destiny while unknowingly shattering another.

From one blink of a seemingly empty page, to finding himself in some strange tower room filled with jeweled toned velvets, satins, and gleaming golds. It was rather lavish, and a tiny bit garish in his opinion, filled with more gadgets then Dumbledore’s office, and certainly looked like it had taken Dumbledore’s unique taste in fashion.

Then He stepped out grandly from the shadows.

It was a rather old man with a long silvery beard and hair that swirled around his torso like a snake, robes of deep purple and red that went surprisingly well with his tannish complexion and large dark blue eyes.

The old man raised an arm, poised grandly before Harry and declared in a magnificent voice,“Greetings my student, I am the great and mighty-hey!” the old man’s grand introduction was rudely interrupted when a stool came sailing at his head.

The old man ducked and then rolled when another soon followed.

“Is this really necessary?” the old man called out as he flung himself behind a love seat.

“Like I haven't heard this song and dance before!” Harry shouted, reaching for a water jug, “This isn’t the first time I’ve been sucked into an enchanted book!” Fling! , "Do you think I'm a moron? Like I'll let some bloke in a book have a go at me again!" crash! Fling!, "Well think again you old fart!"

“Well tat was uncalled for. Look-“ the old man grunted as he ducked down behind the couch as said jug went sailing over his head, “if you would calm down, I’m sure that we can-Now that is my grandmother’s finest china!” CRASH!

Apparently fed up with his guest’s antics now, the old man leaped to his feet and slammed his hands together and in a voice that made Harry’s bones rattle and the room go dark, boomed “ENOUGH!”

Harry suddenly found himself no longer standing, but firmly seated in a plush high backed chair, his arms and legs tightly bound in gold rope.

The room returned to its previous grand cheery air, and the old man huffed, waving his hand and wandlessly conjuring his own seat in front of Harry and sat down, pulling a cup of mead out of nowhere and took a few bracing sips muttering “Centuries of waiting, my promised student finally appears, and what does he do? He attacks me in my own boudoir! Kids these days!”

With a last swallow he sent the cup away and Harry glowered back at the man who cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, and taking it from the top, postured grandly, proclaiming, “Now as I was saying, I am The Great and Mighty Merlin! Greatest magician to have ever walked the Earth, and other places, and you have touched The Book of Memory! And through its powerful, and accurate, magical assessment, you have been deemed worthy to recieve my teachings! So rejoice!.”

Harry’s glower intensified.

“After hundreds, if not thousands of years-I think, time is rather difficult to tell in here- the chosen one, that being you, has found my book as it was prophesied and you shall be tutored to become the most powerful being in all of creation!”

Merlin made a grumpy noise at the less then pleased expression on the boy's face.

“So," harry finally drawled, “your telling me that you, you are Merlin? And that you have been waiting in some great dirty book in some great dirty wall for the slim chance that some bloke will literally stumble across it and open it?”

“Well...destiny isn't an accurate science, and besides, I’m not the actual Merlin,” the old man coughed, “that would just be silly. He died along time ago. You can think of me more as his magical representation. A mere memory created by the even grander original, created to watch over the development of his heir, but for conveniences sake, continue to address me as Merlin or Master Merlin, now shall we begin?”

“No,” Harry cut the old man off again.

The construct blinked then frowned, “what?”

“I said no!” Harry shouted, “I’ve had enough with this "Chosen One" businesses!, There is no way that I am being dragged into anymore of that nonsense! and prophesy? Pl-ease! That’s all bunk! I’ve had 2 years now of having my death predicted by an incense obsessed, sherry drinking fraud to know that its all worth mud!”

Merlin, or the magical construct that called himself such anyway, stared at the one and only student he would ever have, the person he had been created for, who was calling his meaning of existence mud...who had said no to the greatest opportunity that any wizard or witch could dream of! Frankly, in all his imaginings, and there was quite a lot given all the time he had to kill, there was nothing that could prepare him for outright refusal.

Harry froze in his attempts at struggling when a shadow fell over the old man’s face as he intoned “so my means of existence is mere bunk is it? The foundations of my creation is mud is it?”

Harry suddenly felt a bit unnerved.

Then the most horrifying sound for any awkward teenager with a glimmer of conscience emerged from under the brim of his overlarge hat.

Sniffles. The Upset-my-feelings-are-hurt,-world-shattered-by-you-insensitive-prick sniffles.

Harry felt both horrified and a little guilty. He could safely say he had not expected his evening to take this turn.

“Look,” Harry explained hastily, “I know that it seems harsh, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, its just…I’ve never really had good experiences with enchanted books, chosen ones, or predictions…I’m, uh…I’m sure that it doesn’t make you any less of a…person?”

A slightly louder sob was his answer.

“Look,” Harry was feeling less desperate (though he was feeling that in spades) and definitely more guilty now, “maybe…maybe we can come to some sort of agreement or something…I do have this problem…”

“And if I helped you with this problem of yours would you agree to accept being my student?” the man simpered.
Harry struggled futility one more time before sighing. 'Well what do I have to lose really? I'm as good as dead if I can't get myself out of this tournament, my life is shitty, and I lost oneof my closest friends. Sure, his story is a little uncomfortable in a few similarities to ol'Tommy boy, but I really don't have any other options right now.'

Harry nodded to himself and outloud said, reluctantly, "If you can help me with my problem, then...I agree to being your student."

Much to his surprise, as soon as he agreed, a bright light suddenly surrounded both him and the old man before disappearing.

The man’s head shot up and he smiled winningly, his face completely dry.

Harry’s mouth dropped open.

...Wait...Wha?

“Well then! Now that we have reached an understanding, lets get cracking!” the old man rubbed his hands together, “so tell me my soon to be faithful student, what’s your problem?”

Harry was released from his bonds with a snap of Merlin’s fingers and Harry shot to his feet in outrage and demanded “what the hell was that!?”

“Mmmm? Oh! the light? That was the conclusion of a magical agreement brought about by an aggreement of great significance that requires both of us to fulfill or fall prey to a most horrible and gruesome fate, we become impotent”

Harry’s eyes bulged and hands went to cover his lower front in horror.

Merlin rolled his eyes, “Oh calm down, I meant magical impotence! Really now! what do they teach children in schools now a days?”

Harry fell into his seat, and was so befuddled by everything that had just happened that when a green china teacup appeared out of thin air and flew to prod at one of the hands htat was now covering his face, he actually accepted the offered tea.

“Well, now that our positions are clear on the matter, tell me what exactly your problem is? A rival trying to take over your lands? A plague? Infertility?” he leaned closer, “a damsel? a strapping lad?” Merlin snickered at the boy’s choking noises and his furious blush.

“No!” Harry replied croakily once he had cleared his airways, “it’s a tournament.”

“Oh? is that all,” Merlin looked disappointed as he leaned back in his chair, “a petty competition? Well that is easily dealt with, let me guess, you want to win?”

Harry snorted, “No, I want to survive!” and with that he went off into a rather long tangent about the tournament, the goblet of fire, his opinions on the fickle nature of the public, which lead into an even longer explanation on his back story.

When he was done, he flopped back in to his seat and took a bracing sip.

“Feel better?” the old wizard asked bemusedly.

Harry was surprised that he did indeed feel better. It had actually felt good to finally let out everything that had been bothering him.

“Lesson one my faithful student,” Merlin lectured, “is that a burden shared is a burden carried.”

The old man hummed as a surprisingly comfortable silence fell between the two as they drank their tea and Merlin stroked part of his beard in thought.

Then he finally said “well, your problem to me seems to be more complex then you realize, but luckily easily remedied.”

Harry frowned and the old man explained.

“From what you’ve told me, and was unconsciously implied when you mentioned your relatives, you are coming from a situation where you are both made invisible to the point of harmful neglect, and contrastingly, to a sudden overdose of visablity to the point wher eyou are worshipped on one hand, reviled by others over the slightest of reasons, or outright fatally threatened by enemies or indifference. From what you’ve said, your at the mercy or those who are to blind or to willing to keep you where you are, and given your notoriety your unlikely to be able to strike it out on your own, and that little issue with the contract can be a pickle.”

“Well when you put it like that,” Harry muttered darkly, “now I feel even more hopeless in my situation, thanks.”

“You really have a listening issue don’t you?” the wizard replied, rolling his eyes, “remember what I just said? Your situation is complex, but the solution is rather simple.”

“Oh really?” Harry drawled, “and what would your simple solution be oh wise Merlin?” Harry drawled.

“Glad to see that you’ve seen some sense,” the old man preened, ignoring the sarcasm, “the simple solution is..." pause for dramatic effect, "that you strike it out on your own.”

Harry slapped his tea down, making the cup yelp in alarm and fly off the table to huddle under a nearby dresser, “so your simple solution is to do the thing you told me was impossible in the first place?!"

Merlin blinked, then chuckled heartily, gesturing for the boy to sit back down, who did with a peeved look.

“My dear lad,” Merlin chortled, “who sad anything about striking out on your own here?” at Harry's confused look, he smiled, "and of course when I talk about here, i refer to the singular unimportant granuile of this reality in an inffinite sporgesborg of heres."

And thus Merlin explained the concept of alternate worlds.

“You, see,” he finished, chortling at the gobsmacked teenager who just had his sense of reality pulled out from under him, “all it will take is a few things: the right bit of timing, a large ammount of prep, and a sacrifice on your part, and your problem is solved.”

Ooo ooo ooo

Back in the Present...

Harry leaned forward until his forehead was practically touching the surface of the mirror.

After month of solid preparation and having already faced a bloody dragon of all things, timing keeping him from escaping the first task, Which he survived barily by the skin of his teeth thanks to Merlin's suggestion that he use his Parseltongue ability, which the old man was rather tickled that he had by the way, to sing the great lizard a lullaby, which put it to sleep, but unlike Fleur and he trance inducement, his dragon had apparently been a toss and turner as well as a snorer. The gouges, bruises and broken bones, as well as his body being set on fire, firmed his resolve to get out of this bloody tournament and the reality that made it so as soon as he could.

Harry scratched at the now healed skin on his right shoulder idly. He was just grateful that he was out of the casts and off the salves and potions in time to do what he needed to do.

The only decent part that came out of all this was his resolution with Ron, but it had not changed his mind. As much as he was glad to have the red head back, the idea of leaving everything behind, not just so he could survive the tournament, but leave it all behind. The Wizarding World, the Dursley's, Voldemort...his friends and his barily there godfather, it wasn’t enough ot turn him away from such a temptation.

Under Merlin’s directions, and paying careful attention in Astronomy class more then usual, and hunting a bloody standing mirror made of pure silver, amongst other things, which was harder to find then he had originally thought, but he had gotten lucky and found one shoved into a small room deep in Slytherin territory, and hadn’t that been a treat trying to sneak a great bloody mirror from that nest of vipers!

But it was all going to be worth it in the end.

Finally, the night when the planets were in proper alignment had come, the mirror was prepared with the set of runes that Harry had painstakingly carved into the edges of the mirror with a knife made from purified moonstone (not as hard to get apparently, Snape was quite a collector and a firecracker released in his personal quarters after daring the Weasley twins was all it took to get the thing).

The final ingredients to activate the ritual was the hardest though.

“Now, do you remember the order of what you have to do?” Merlin said, drawing Harry from his thoughts as he floated like some fairytale jinn over a lamp except its a book.

Harry nodded solemnly.

He took position in the center of a circle of glowing white dust, a combination of fairy dust and dried house elf tears that sparked to life as soon as he crossed the line, standing in front of he first rune.

“I give of my self, the lifeblood that flows through my veins so that new blood may flow in its place!” he intoned and grimaced as he sliced the inside of both hands, grimacing at the painful sting and the pool of blood the immediately dripped on the first rune.

As soon as the drops of ruby touched the symbol it burst into a stream of red light which connected to the mirror, turning the surface of the glass blood red.

Harry turned and stepped up to the next rune.

“I give of myself the bone of my body so that it may be left behind and new bones fill the void to keep me steady.”

He couldn’t help the stronger and louder reaction to the pain as he summoned the bone from the little finger of his left hand with a spell that Harry learned from Merlin that would vanish the bone from and reappear it.

He dropped his own finger bone onto the rune in disgust, unable to stop the tears of pain. Bloody hell that hurt!

The second rune flared to life in a blaze of bone white light. Fires of blood and bone swirled around hte barrier, then hit the mirror, turning the surface an odd mixture of swirling red and white, like a melted candy cane.

Steadfastly ignoring the limp bonelss flesh tube that was once his pinky, he stood before the last rune and with a deep breath, he pulled out his wand.

“I give of myself the representation of the magic that flows through me, so that I might invite new magic to become one with me, and leave behind what once was part of me.”

This part of the ritual was what Merlin reassured him would also sever the contract he had with the goblet. After all, magic could no longer be taken away that he was no longer connected to.

The snap of his once faithful wand was harder to take then he had expected, worse then loosing his finger.

He felt more vulnerable in that moment, and oddly more alone, then he’d ever felt in his life as he dropped the remains of his wand on the last rune.

This caused the rune to flare to life in the most beautiful wave of gold and red fiery light, reminiscent of the sparks that had emerged from his wand the first time he had held it. It whirled around him, as if in goodbye, then it to impacted the surface of the mirror.

Harry was nearly blinded by an intense wave of light, a commingling of all the colors brought forth, and only managed to keep from being blown into a wall by hitting the floor in the nick of time in the magical backlash.

When the light show was over and the force of the explosion had died, Harry tentatively raised his head from under his arms and frowned when he realized that he was starring at an ordinary mirror again.

“My goodness! I had forgotten how beautiful it was,” the old man chortled, wiping a non-existent tear, then turning to the boy, “oh don’t worry, the ritual was a success, here,” he gestured to a nearby piece of stone that got jarred loose from the ceiling, “pick up that rock.”

Harry frowned but did as he was asked and grasped the stone in his good hand.

“Good, now fling that stone right at the mirror,” Merlin instructed.

Harry opened his mouth in outrage, about to tell the old coot exactly why that was a bad idea, when Merlin gave him a stern look and said “trust me.”

Harry, figuring by this point that it couldn’t get any worse, since it seemed to have failed no matter what the old man said, hauled back and tossed the stone at the mirror…

…which promptly vanished in a cloud of rainbow twinkles.

He blinked and stepped closer to investigate only to have Merlin’s exclamation stop him, “whoa there lad! Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Keep your knickers on, I wasn’t going to actually go through, I just wanted to have a closer look,” Harry grumbled and picked up the book from the pile of rock, closing the cover with perhaps a bit more pleasure then was strictly necessary. The only way that the apparition could communicate with him was if the book was open by Harry. Another fun fact was that Harry was the only one that could do this, something that was both reassuring, preservation of his secret and all, and annoying as Merlin was rather chatty after being copped up for several centuries and Harry was his only outlet.

Harry shoved the book into the saddle bag he had set aside. He as still uncertain why he would need a saddlebag of all things, would he need to ride a horse on the other side?

Merlin had not been clear on what was on the other side, only that it was perfect for both their needs.

Harry was not comforted by this, but Merlin had pointed out that what waited for him was significantly better then what he was leaving behind.

Harry bit his lip as he stood before the mirror, gripping the saddle bag to his chest and took a breath then stepped towards the mirror.

He hovered on the cusp of the edge, and for a moment his mind turned to the few people that he would regret leaving behind, there faces flashing through his mind, and the sadness he was sure that he would be causing them when his letter to everyone arrived in the morning post to be delivered to Hermione. Hedwig would be alright with her he was sure. He would have brought his faithful owl and first friend through, but Merlin had warned that he was unsure how she would be effected by crossing into the mirror, or the gateway into another world as it was now.

He firmed his spine. He was sure that they would be upset, particularly Hermione, but his friends would understand in the end that what he had done was ultimately for the best and might even be happy for him, someday.

With a nod, he closed his eyes, firmed his spine, and took the plunge.

Your a Pony Harry

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Chapter 2: Your a Pony Harry

"Where are my feet!?"

"Now really lad, there is no need to panic, you have them, all four of them are right there, all though they don't call them feet here, they call them hooves."

"I mean feet with toes!, Two feet with toes!"

"Bah! Like toes are ever useful."

"What about my hands! Oh great Merlin! My hands! I want my fingers!"

"You really shouldn't use my name in vain, now just calm down!"

"Calm down? I'm a freakin' pony! and what the heck happened to my cloths?!"

"You know, I never could figure that part out," came the thoughtful hum.

This was how Harry James Potter's first hour in the new world that was to be his home for the rest of his new life started out.

Harry would have paced, but he kept tripping over his own hooves.

"If it's any consolation I did tell you that you would look different when you crossed over."

Harry grumbled, glowering at the spectre, who, by the way, had managed to keep his own fingers.

"And why are you still the same?" Harry growled as he picked himself up again, turning his eyes downwards and trying tentative, more smaller steps, one at a time.

"Well, I was hardly human to begin with," Merlin pointed out, "I'm a magical construct remember?"

"Well, I guess," Harry grumbled, and was pleased when he managed to take a step with all sets of legs this time.

"If you like we can sing a motivational non-diegetic song to help you," Merlin suggested brightly, then cleared his throat took a chest expanding breath, "Oooooohhhhh just take one step forward-"

"No," Harry gave the wizard a flat look.

"But I had the routine all worked out..." Merlin's lip trembled.

"Nice try," Harry snorted, "you already got me once with that act, and as the saying goes, fool me once shame on you, foll me twice shame on me."

Merlin's lips stopped trembling and he slumped and said sourly, "well aren't you just the happy little pony? spoilsport."

with that Merlin returned to the recesses of his book with a huff, the volume closing and putting itself back in the saddlebag it had wiggled out from in the first place. it hadn't been able to do that before, but Harry decided to chalk it up as some sort of affect of the transition after all.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Harry slapped his forehead, then promptly swore as he accidentally beaned himself with a rather hard hoof, "the closing spell."

While he couldn't close the gate on the other side, he could at least make sure that nothing from this world could be sent back through. At most it would be a one-way trip for anyone stupid enough to take the leap from his old world, even if by slim chance they were able to figure out that he had used the Chamber in the first place, able to get into the Chamber of Secrets, which could only be accessed by a Parselmouth, and if the planets were in the right alignment in the first place which, apparently, only happened once every few years for a 10 minute window.

He turned around, wobbling dangerously, but still managing somewhat to remain upright and intoned, "Traveller through, so journey begun, onto the future, let the past begone!"

A flash and the large boulder that he had apparently come out of returned to normal.

Nodding to himself he returned to practicing walking.

ooo ooo ooo

After about an hour or two, he felt relatively confident that that he could at least walk without falling on his face every other step.

Then came the next hurdle.

"How do i get this bloody thing on my back?" Harry sighed, starring at the bulging pack.

He didn't have a wand anymore so he couldn't levitate it, and having a lack of fingers, he couldn't exactly lift and buckle it on himself.

It turned out that his new limbs were more versatile then he thought. After shrugging, and with no other alternative, he tried the physical approach anyway, and much to his surprise, while his limbs pointed in different directions then what he was used to, he actually discovered that ponies were apparently double jointed in this world.

Huh, go figure.

one tangle later, he was finally ready to begin.

And that lead to his biggest hurdle yet.

What did he do now?

He sat on his haunches- then did it again because that felt oddly satisfying- and thought about this.

Merlin had helped him achieve what he was after, an escape from the tournament, and more then that, an escape fro ma steadily worsening situation in the human world. According to their deal, he would be required to become the old man's student.

Harry had brought this up with Merlin during the preparations. At the time he had not really believed tha he would actually succeed with the old man's plan, but still felt obliged to ask.

The old man's explanation had been, "I believe in doing, so for your second lesson, you will need to learn about the place you will be dwelling in, and the ways of the peoples you will become a part of. I leave that up to you in how you do that."

Harry hummed thoughtfully, scratching an ear with his back hoof -doing that again for the sheer luxuriating in being able to do it- and figured that from what Merlin had implied about this place, ponies appeared to be the peoples of this world, so far anyway, and given his ranting earlier, it was safe to say that he was a talking pony, and communication implies some sort of co-operative evolutionary ability of some sort, so he figured that there was likely other talking ponies out there and if there was, then finding them would be the first thing on his list.

Unless ponies lived out in fields or forests like equines from the human world, it was possible there might even be places where a lot of them gather.

Another satisfying scratch, then Harry got to his hooves, picked a direction and began walking.

Enter the Dragon

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Chapter 3: Enter the Dragon.

It was nearing night fall on this new world, and Harry had been trodding for hours. His hooves were killing him and he had yet to come across another pony, though he did see other animals.

Now that he thought about it, what was the deal with the other animals?

There was something in the way that they looked at him from time to time, something that struck him as being a bit more aware then was normally found in nature. Then again, he was a talking pony, so maybe ponies weren't the dominant species on the planet after all? Maybe everyone talked in this world? So he had tried asking a passing rabbit and a few varieties of birds for directions to the nearest gathering of ponies like him, but many just flew off or shrugged various appendages, further unnerving him. It made him suddenly glad that he was now a herbivore (at least he thought so) or else things might get awkward later.

At least the weather was decent. Unlike where he had come from being in the beginnings of winter, here it was warm and sunny, perhaps late spring, early summer.

He was really starting to worry about what he would do for his first night, after all he had managed to pack some shrunken camping gear, but he was uncertain how he was going to set anything up since he no longer had fingers, which honestly he had not been prepared for (perhaps one maybe, considering the ritual, but all!?) when he spotted a light flickering through some trees from the corner of his eye.

With rising hope, he picked up speed into a full out gallop, his eyes shinning with hope as he broke through the trees...

...And promptly fell head over tail over a tree stump, sending him rolling directly through the little fire lit camp (being at the bottom of an incline that Harry had not previously noticed as well), passed the startled gaze of the figure tending the fire, and into a nearby river with a KER-SPLASH!

Small scaly hands pulled him out of the river before he could drown and patted his back as Harry groaned, occasionally spitting river water (which was refreshingly clean and absent of any hint of pollution he would later note) out of his lungs.

When he had blinked water and his embarrassment out of his eyes, his savior finally came into focus.

Harry leaped back as a giant purple and green lizard stared up at him in concern.

"Hey there, are you ok?" the lizard asked him.

Harry stared, backing up another step in horror, he had never seen a lizard this large before, and back in the human world, any reptile larger then an iguana was usually something to be concerned about, if his "Wildlife Planet" class videos in primary school were anything to go by, and not only that, a talking lizard apparently.

"Hey, it's okay," the lizard tried to sooth, taking a step forward.

Harry, spotting the sharp teeth in that reassurance, grabbed a nearby branch in his own blunter ones, waving it around awkwardly snarling.

"Bas oo alking izerd!"

"What?" the lizard asked confusedly, "I can't understand what your saying."

Harry, seeing the pointlessness in wielding a stick with his mouth anyway, now spat it out, raised on his hind legs and put his hooves up, "I said "back you talking lizard!" so...so back you talking lizard!"

Said lizard gave him a dead pan look then drawled, "Look, first off, I'm not a lizard, I'm a dragon, a baby one to be more exact, and second, of course I can talk, all dragons can talk, the same as anypony."

Harry backed away further, eyes immediately trained for the sky when he heard the words "baby dragon", He had dealt already with a ticked off overprotective mother dragon before, the last thing he needed was to inadvertently incur the wrath of another.

"Where's your parents? the last thing I need is my arse on fire again thanks!" Harry declared.

His eyes returned to the purple reptile though when the dragon muttered, "I don't have any parents. I'm an orphan."

An awkward silence hung between them for a moment. Yet again, Harry was left from feeling rightly defensive to now feel like a heel, and judging by the dragon's more open expression of distress at the thought, this wasn't something put on to trick him with sympathy. Harry rubbed one hoof over a leg awkwardly, having returned to all fours again, and felt compelled to say awkwardly, "Um, so am I, an orphan I mean."

Since the dragon didn't make any threatening moves and he wasn't likely to be roasted alive by a peeved mama, he took the offered seat across from the dragon's camp fire.

"So," the baby dragon started off, "My name's Spike, what's yours?"

"Harry Potter" Harry replied then flushed when his growling stomach also introduced himself.

"Wow, you must have been traveling awhile," Spike commented, then reached into a pack resting beside the boulder he was sitting on and pulled out something wrapped in cloth.

"Here, its my last loaf of bread, but you can have it," Spike handed it over to Harry who took it with fervent thanks and bit into the slightly stale, but still really good, bread with gusto.

"So," Harry asked after swallowing, "Dragons eat bread?"

"Oh yeah, I eat the same things as any other pony, though between you and me, I think daisy sandwiches are over rated. I do enjoy gems though, delicious, sweet crunchy beauties..." the dragon drooled a little.

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. Huh. He wondered if dragons from his world ate gems? Some how he doubted it though, Norbert had been a little to vicious and chompy with that teddy bear of his.

Seeing how there was no one else to ask, Harry turned to his new companion and asked, "so this may seem like an odd question, but where am I exactly?"

"So your lost huh?" Spike commented, "That's not odd at all, I've gotten lost loads of times!" Spike reassured unreasuringly. He pulled out a roll of parchment which he laid out on a bolder and the two stood over it as Spike pointed with a claw to a particular spot on the alien landmass he currently found himself.

"Let's see, this is us, and we're sitting somewhere between The Badlands and Hayseed Swamps," he pointed to a small sliver of creamy white between a scorch-brownish-red area and a yellowy-green area.

"Here," he pointed to a small dot in the shape of a pony's profile, "this is Croup Crossing, its a boarder town between Equestria and the Dragonlands, it's the closest, and last town before you leave Equestria."

Of course, Harry was going to have to take Spike's word for it, because he could not understand a word that was written down on the map. It all looked vaguely like a cross between hieroglyphics and tetrus to him. It seemed that while the lingo had passed on to him somehow, the written word hadn't. Swell.

"So Equestria huh? That's the name of where we are?"

Spike stared at him, "you don't know the name of the country your in?"

Harry had a sudden feeling he had goofed.

he mentally scrambled for the most plausible and airtight, excuse available.

"I'm not from around here," Harry explained giving an awkwardly winning smile.

Spike frowned and commented dubiously, "it must be pretty faraway for you to not have heard of Equestria," He asked suspiciously, "and you must be really lost if you don't even know what country your in."

"Umm...I took a wrong turn?"

There was a tense silence then Spike said chirpily, "oh, well, that explains it then."

Harry let out a sigh of relief as the two returned to the map.

Harry had already decided early on, during the long walk, that it was probably a better idea to keep his origins a secret. He had a feeling that if he told anyone that he was a human from another world who crossed into a magic mirror and turned into a pony, he would be tossed in this world's equivalent of a funny farm or in the unlikely-hood that he was believed, something decidedly more negative in reaction.

The two of them agreed that they would travel together until they reached the outskirts of Croup Crossing where he would continue on in that direction while Spike continued on with his migration. Spike estimated that it would likely take them about an extra day of walking before they reached their destination though.

After that, the two soon continued on with their dinner.

After a time of companionable silence where Harry was treated to the fascinating sight of the dragon roasting a ruby the size of a baseball over an open fire, lightly seasoned with a salt shaker, and then the dragon taking satisfied bites out of the thing like a turkey leg on Thanksgiving, the two of them soon fell into a conversation about why they were traveling.

"Well, I was watching the dragon migration with my friends, Twilight, Rarity -sigh-, Pinky, Applejack and Rainbow Dash. When Rainbow Dash made this remark about my apron..." Spike went on to explain how his friends teasing had made him realize that he really was different from other dragons, and Twilight, who apparently was the pony who raised him, had no idea where he had come from, only that she got him as an egg from her mentor, some pony named Cefestia...or was it Celestial? or something, then hatched him, and he had been with this Twilight Sparkle since. So he had decided that going on a migration like other dragons was the best way to trying to discover who he was.

"...It's just...by the time anypony is my age, they at least have some idea of who and what they are. I'm a dragon raised by a pony, there has been other dragons raised by ponies that I know of, and I feel...I don't know, disconnected somehow. My friends care about me, but there is still this wall that I can't cross because I'm a dragon and their ponies. Anytime anything rears up to remind them of that, things...don't turn out so well. So I decided that if I was going to figure out what it means to be a dragon I was going to go on the migration, so here I am."

Harry pondered this story for a time. In the end he was of 3 thoughts about this:

Had this Twilight literally hatched Spike from an egg? Like a chicken? How did ponies do something like that? was it like with Hagrid and Norbert, did she toss Spike into the fire place or something?

The second was that while he did play the jibing down a tad, Harry felt that the ponies were being somewhat mean spirited. It reminded him of Neville and the jibes that the other students at Hogwarts threw at him because he was a bit timid for a Gryffindor, house of the brave and bold. Granted, these ponies may not have realized that it was being mean, Spike did speak about them with obvious affection, especially this Rarity pony (the figurative hearts in Spike's eyes was rather obvious) but that didn't excuse this.

The third notion was rather more sinister. Where exactly did this Celmessia -Molestia?- pony get his egg? did she actually take it from his dragon parents? Thinking, talking, beings as Spike himself proved to be? Though Harry supposed it could have been a rescue or something, maybe something happened to Spike's parents? But why not just give the egg to other dragons? Why keep it? Was it like with birds where if you touch the egg or baby bird the parents loose interest in it? And if it really was so innocent, why not tell Twilight or Spike himself when he was old enough where he came from? Spike was obviously going to have some questions! Perhaps this Celestia -yes that was it!- Celestia pony wasn't very smart?

Eventually he decided to put that on the mental back-burner for now and said instead "that's pretty harsh, I can relate to that sort of. Where I came from, I was told my parents died in an accident that they caused, while it turned out they...died a different way," he was unsure how the dragon would react to the mention of something like murder, "and at the same time I found out this, I was told I was something, someone else then who i thought I was. I struggled to try to be this grand person they wanted me to be for four years, to the point where I would look in a mirror and not know who was looking back at me, and those around me didn't really help with that. Its part of why I'm here as well."

There. honest yet not giving anything away that was to odd.

Spike took a thoughtful bite from his seasoned ruby and asked softly, "and have you figured it out?"

Harry rolled the crusty remains of his bread in his hooves until there was nothing but hard crumbs, "no," Harry said heavily, looking at his hooves, "I've only just begun trying to figure that out."

When they were done, the two agreed that it was likely time for bed since they wanted to make good time the next day.

Harry grunted as he struggled to get the danged saddle bag off. He didn't notice the confused look that Spike was shooting at him until the dragon asked him, "what are you doing?"

"Danged velcro...- what;'s it look like? I'm trying to take this saddle bag off- urg! I hate straps!"

Spike rubbed an arm awkwardly and replied, "well, uh, why don't you just use your magic to take off your saddle bag?"

Harry stiffened for a second, then relaxed when he remembered that this place was actually more free with magic then his old world. It was one of the things Merlin shared about this place.

"I would- urg!- but i don't know the spell for something like that-damn it!"

"A spell? why would you need a spell for something like that? Just use your horn."

Harry stopped struggling and turned his full attention on Spike.

"What? My horn?"

Spike was looking pretty concerned now, "yeah, the one on your head?" he pointed to Harry's head.

Harry reached up with a hoof and felt around until he came into contact with something that was indeed protruding from his head, something slightly on an angle but otherwise straight with a sharp tip.

Harry forgot about his saddlebag and turned sharply, galloping for the river.

he looked in the still dark water and for the first time really took in his reflection.

his coloring was something he was already fairly familiar with, the pale silvery pelt and the dark black mane and tail, since that was the only thing he could determine about himself without a mirror. That, and that he was a pony.

The equine staring back at him though was far from the pony he envisioned himself.

His eyes were the same death curse green as he remembered, though this time they were ridiculously large and rounded, set a little farther apart then he was used to, but at least worked (he was glad to be without the glasses). His legs were long and somewhat skinny, his body was lean but scrawny, and his mane and tail were messier and with greater abundance then his human rat nest. Oh goody.

He was also a unicorn. A flippin' unicorn! why hadn't Merlin said so!?

He was about to go grab Merlin's book and drag him out by his beard and demand answers when Spike's sudden presence distracted him.

His new traveling companion was giving him a concerned look and he asked, "are you alright?"

Harry took a few breaths before he said stiffly, "of course! I was just...confused is all, stress of all trip, never mind me I'll just..." his excuse, especially lame as it was, was interrupted when Spike came over and patted Harry on the shoulder and guided him back to camp saying "Come on, I'll give you a hoof."

Spike helped Harry remove the straps, pausing to briefly marvel at the velcro fastenings, which Harry hastily explained away as a local invention from where he was from. Spike's gasp once the saddle bag fell away from his torso, revealing his upper body and flanks for the first time again made Harry tense and mentally groan 'now what?'

"What?" Harry asked turning his head to stare at his own arse (briefly marveling at the coolness of being able to do that). He didn't see what had bothered Spike though, everything looked in order, at least he thought so? did he have saddle bag pelt or something?

"Oh, well..." Spike rubbed his paws, "well, its just...not that there's anything wrong with being a blank flank, of course not! Its just your obviously older then its usually..." Spike's voice trailed off, claws awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

"Then is usually what?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing.

"Well, usually when a pony is your age...you are at least a teenager right?"

"Yeah?" Harry asked slowly, "So?"

"Well, it's just by the time that a pony is your age, they usually have...," his voice lowered even more, "have their cutie mark."

Harry frowned in confusion; what was a cutie mark? It sounded like some sort of kindergarten grading system or something.

"Never mind!" Spike said hastily before Harry could ask, "it's none of by business, it doesn't make you any less a pony...so lets get some shut eye huh?"

Spike exited the conversation by dragging Harry's saddle bag to rest by his own bag on a stick (huh tropes do exist, a bag on a stick, really?) and snuggled in with his back turned to the still confused Harry.

It was like an awkward scene from a public school boy's changing room after revealing something unintentionally embarrassing.

Harry sighed, deciding to save the mystery for tomorrow and curled up next to the baggage. Yet again bemoaning the fact that his nice comfy tent, where his nice warm blankets an fluffy pillow, will remain unused thanks to his lack of fingers to put it up.

ooo ooo ooo

Spike turned over and looked at the curled up pony using his own saddle bag as an uncomfortable pillow ,and feeling a spurt of sympathy for the other pony, who must not have packed well for his super long trip either, before sighing and pulling back the coverings.

"Come on, its not long until the Falling of the Leaves, its a bit chilly at night."

Both feeling awkward, but obviously bowing to the weather conditions, he squeezed in beside the dragon. Harry eventually nodded off, exhausted from the long walk and the past eventful 24 hours.

Spike meanwhile took a little longer to fall asleep.

His brain was in overdrive as he mentally chewed on the conundrum, the alarming conundrum, that was one unicorn called Hairy.

Why had he not used his magic to remove his saddle bag? why did he act surprised when Spike mentioned his horn and defensive about his magic?

Then there was the way he talked, saying things like Damn, Person, what were those things? Why did he miss-say common everyday words like "everypony" into something like Everyone? And what about his cutie mark!?

It's possible, Spike reasoned, it was just a foreigner thing. He did have an accent that he couldn't really place, so that could account for the odd words and miss-sayings. Zecora was from far away and she talked differently as well.

The horn thing though? that was a little harder to explain. He was fairly certain that all unicorns could do magic, no matter how little, or else why be born with a horn? Though he supposed that Harry could be like Scootloo and not able to use his inherent magic like other unicorns the same way he suspected that she couldn't with her wings like other pegusi?

It was possible, but then why had he not known he had a horn in the first place? he had definitely been surprised he's had one.

Then a horrifying thought occurred to him and his eyes widened.

What if Harry had been cursed?

Spike had seen numerous instances of ponies whose minds and bodies were altered by magic, such as Discord making his friends opposite from who they were, or that time when Shinning Armour was being controlled by Queen Chrysalis, or when the Chrystal Kingdom, an entire Kingdom! Lost their memories. Even Twilight had done it by accident with that spell from Star Swirl the Bearded when she switched their cutie marks on the day she became an Alicorn. It may account for the blank flank as well. Maybe he lost his memory of even having one?

'poor guy,' Spike thought to himself, 'If that's true, I can't risk leaving him alone, even outside of Croup Crossing, he might even wander off and get into more trouble!' granted he seemed rather stable, but with a curse you never know.

Spike turned over and looked at the young stallion's sleeping face.

He knew that if he stuck around to help Hairy he would miss the gathering of the dragons. He was already way behind because they could fly, and he couldn't, and they'd had a day ahead of him before he had left Ponyville. If he stuck around to help Hairy he was going to miss his chance to figure out what kind of dragon he was.

But he couldn't leave somepony to fend for himself when he obviously needed help, and this, Spike was sure was at least part of who Spike was. No matter how it hurt to give up his goal to join the other dragons.

Resolved to this decision, he snuggled down and fell into a deep sleep.

The Journey

by aliengirlguy

Through the Looking Glass

Your a Pony Harry

Enter the Dragon