> Magic School Days
>  by Dogger807
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue (Rewrite)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The life-giving light of Celestia’s sun shone down upon the land.  Once again, it was nearing the end of summer, and a beautiful day graced  Ponyville and the surrounding countryside. As befitted the mood of the  parents in that provincial town, nature itself seemed to be laughing.  The twitter of birds was unmistakable, with their calls coming from  trees near and far as the little scamps flitted from branch to branch.  From the ponds, the bass rumbling from the frogs evoked memories of  hearty chuckles. 

Meanwhile, lying in the grass, there were three  fillies, their barrels rapidly rising and falling as they took quick  gulps of air. They were three industrious fillies, determined to meet  their destinies. To achieve their goal, they were determined to use  every resource, every scheme on which they could lay their hooves. They  were persistent. They were clever. They were ambitious. But most of all,  they were sticky. They were desperately in need of a bath to rid  themselves of the tree sap that coated every hair on their bodies. 

“Aaaaand,”  the first little filly, an orange pegasus named Scootaloo, said,  “scratch Cutie Mark Crusader Lumberjacks off the list.”

“I can’t  believe we didn’t see that one coming,” the white unicorn filly of the  group groused as she rubbed her white pelt. “With our record, why would  we think that taking a saw to a tree was a good idea?”

“Ah still  say it was a good try, Sweetie Belle,” said the final filly, a yellow  earth pony named Apple Bloom. “How’n were we supposed ta know that a  tree could be so aggressive?”

“A good try?” Sweetie Belle  squeaked. “The tree shot out a stream of sap, ten trots in length. We  barely nicked it, and it started playing target the pony.”

“Well .  . .” Apple Bloom untied the red bow in her mane, annoyed by the way the  sap’s weight was causing it to sag into her eyes. “. . . it does stand  to reason that it would be a mite mad. We were trying to cut it down,  after all.”

“Trees aren’t supposed to shoot sap like that,”  Sweetie Belle clarified. “Trees aren’t supposed to be good at targeting  dodging pegasi who avoid the first squirt, either.”

“Yeah, it sure  had good aim for an overgrown stick without eyes.” Scootaloo sighed.  “Though, considering all the times we’ve ended up covered in sap, I’m  sure it’s normal tree behavior.”

“But,” Sweetie protested, “trees aren’t supposed to be sapient. They’re just supposed to be trees!”

“Ah  don’t rightly know what sapient means.” Apple Bloom gloomily shook her  bow before giving it up as a lost cause. “But it has sap in it an’ Ah  can vouch that trees have sap. It stands to reason that they must be  sapient.”

“That makes sense.” Scootaloo quickly agreed.

Sweetie  Bell wisely let the matter drop; after all, the tree had been aiming at  Scootaloo. Then, there was the fact that they did live near the  Everfree Forest. “That was a lot of sap to get out of a small nick,” she  said, attempting to rein in the conversation.

“It’s not like they have better things to do than stand around all day making sap to shoot at ponies,” Scootaloo noted.

“Enough with the sap talk.” Apple Bloom abruptly stood up. “We’re wasting crusading time; let’s go get cleaned up.”

“Can’t  we wait a while?” Sweetie Belle asked. “I’d like to give Rarity a  little more time to get engrossed in her dress making. That way, she  won’t notice I'm covered in sap, again.”

“Y’all don’t need ta go  home yet.” Apple Bloom smirked. "Before we got started, Ah asked mah  sister ta set the washtub out behind the barn. Should be there waiting  fer us ta get cleaned up.”

“That works.” Scootaloo also stood up,  did her best impression of a dog shaking itself, and started in the  direction of the barn.

“Wait. What?” Sweetie jumped to her hooves, facing Apple Bloom.” You knew we were going to be covered in sap?” she demanded.

“We  war planning on taking a saw to a tree.” Apple Bloom shrugged, before  following after Scootaloo. “How could anypony not see that coming?”

Bringing  up the rear, Sweetie reflected that there was something really wrong  with the entire conversation; however, she was unable to put her hoof on  exactly what that might have been.





A short time later, they  were in a wooden tub, industriously scrubbing the sap out of each  other’s coats, tails, and manes. It went unvoiced, but they were all  amazed and grateful that they hadn’t received their sap removal cutie  marks. After all, no matter how proficient they became at that  particular chore, none of them wanted to wear that accomplishment on  their flank.

“Well,” Apple Bloom sighed around the scrub brush in  her mouth. “School’ll be starting next week. That means less time fer  our crusading an’ we still haven’t got our marks.”

“Yeah, I’m not  looking forward to putting up with Diamond Tiaraaaaa! Hey! Watch my wing  there, Sweetie! That hurt!” Scootaloo sent the little unicorn a baleful  gaze. “Anyways, I almost wish we were going to a different school just  so we won't have to deal with her.”

“Sorry, my brush slipped.”  Cutely, Sweetie's cheeks reddened. “I almost wish we were going to  Celestia’s school in Canterlot. Not that I wouldn’t miss Miss Cheerilee,  but there would be sooooo much more to do and learn.”

“That there  school is fer unicorns only.” Apple Bloom shook her head. “An’ Ah’m an  earth pony. Thar ain’t no way they’d let me in.”

“That’s not  true,” Sweetie corrected. “I overheard my sister talking to Twilight.  They’re gonna start an earth pony program and a pegasus program this  year.”

“Really?” Apple Bloom brightened. “Hmm, that’s not so far;  we could be home fer the weekends. Think of all the new ponies we’d  meet.”

Sweetie Belle let her ears droop. “The problem is they’ve closed the enrollment for this year.”

“Then why’d you bring it up?” Scootaloo scoffed.

“I don’t know.” Sweetie sighed.

“That’s  okay Sweetie,” Apple Bloom said, dipping her brush in the water before  attacking Sweetie’s flank again. “We’d probably have ta pass all kinds  of hard tests an’ follow all kinds of rules jus’ ta get in.” 

“Still, it sounds cool,” Scootaloo said. “I’ll bet they have an advanced flying class. Pity about the whole rules thing.”

“Wait a minute!” Sweetie perked up.

“Ow! My wing!”

“Sorry. But wait a second, girls; who do we know that practically makes it his mission to get around rules?”

There  was a moment of silence as the fillies traded glances with each other. A  wordless communication affirmed that they were all thinking the same  thing. There was tacit agreement that this was an idea they’d regret not  attempting.

One caveat had to be acknowledged, and it was Apple  Bloom who broke the silence. “Thar ain’t no way this is gonna end well,”  she stated.

After finishing their collective bath, the three  fillies went looking for trouble, and everypony knew that trouble’s name  started with the letter "D".





There really was only one  logical place to start their search. The path to Fluttershy’s cottage  was a familiar journey for the trio, leaving plenty of their attention  available for them to squabble over the approach for their attempt to  convince the object of their endeavors to help them.

“I still say we should offer him cupcakes,” Scootaloo contended. “You can’t go wrong with cupcakes from Pinkie Pie.”

“Nah,”  Sweetie countered. “That won’t work. Let’s face it; he’d prefer it if  we tried something sneaky. That would appeal to his trickster nature.”

“Thar  ain’t no way we’re going ta hoodwink anyone.” Apple Bloom put her hoof  down, proving that some traits were genetic no matter what some other  ponies may assert. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Well, we’d better make  up our minds,” Sweetie said as their destination came into sight.  “We’re almost at Fluttershy's. I hope he’s there." She sighed. "What are  the odds of him actually being here right now?”

“Oh,” said a smooth voice from behind them. “I don’t know? What are the odds of who being here right now?”

Squeaking  slightly, the three fillies turned to behold a familiar outlandish  figure. Floating in the air, with a serpentine body that sported  mismatched limbs, Discord grinned down at the children. When he had  their attention, he flashed a brilliant smile and wiggled an eyebrow  suggestively. Of course, he may have taken ‘flashing a smile’ a little  too literally as the world went white for a second.

“Gah!”

“Mah eyes!”

“Bright light! Bright light!”

Giving in to instinct, the three fillies threw their hooves over their eyes and dropped to the ground.

“I’ve been using a new toothpaste,” Discord commented absently as he watched the three blink the spots out of their eyes.

“All right,” Sweetie Belle deadpanned. “Everypony who saw that coming, raise your hoof.”

Four  hooves raised to the heavens, three being the right forehooves of the  fillies. The last was on the hind leg of Discord, being the only hoof,  he actually possessed. Though, in truth, that wasn’t actually a limiting  factor.

“Am I getting predictable?” A pout flitted across  Discord’s lips. “How could you say such a thing? After all, I thought  you wanted to have a conversation with little old rule-breaking me.”

“Yup,”  Apple Bloom muttered. “Thar ain’t no way this is gonna end well. Ah  wonder if it’s too late to run away screaming at the top o’ mah lungs.”

“We do!” Scootaloo chirped up, eagerly plowing forward. “We wanna go to magic school. We just need your help getting in.”

“You  three want to go to magic school? Hmmm.” Discord rubbed his chin as he  scrutinized the girls. “Well now, I must say, this is rather unexpected.  Most fillies your age want my help avoiding school, not the other way  around. I must say, this is delightfully inverted.”

Scootaloo looked at Sweetie and mouthed. “Inverted?”

“I’ll explain later.” Sweetie sighed.

“Still,  credit should be given where credit is due.” Discord said, ignoring the  byplay. “I shall be happy to outfit you for this little quest of  yours.”

“Going to school is a quest?” Scootaloo tilted her head to the side, confusion visible on her face.

“Oh,  my my my. Yes, it is. More so, the older you get,” the draconequus  answered with yet another smile, albeit not quite as bright. “I will  leave you to discover the truth behind that at your own pace. For now,  let us proceed with the outfitting for your upcoming quest. We do have  to give you every possible advantage so you can get all of those hidden  achievements later.” 

Three lost stares met that declaration.

“First  things first: the acceptance letters.” Discord reared back to his full  height, dramatically stretching out his lion’s paw. “Simplicity itself,”  he said snapping his claws. There was a mild flash of light and a  startled owl appeared. It was only by reflex that the bird managed to  perch firmly on the proffered limb.

“The talons!” Discord called  out in pain. “The talons! Watch the talons!” It was Discord’s turn to  act reflexively as he shook his injured limb. This only caused the owl  to latch on tighter, flapping its wings to maintain its perch.

“Ooooo.”  Discord snapped his claws again, causing a heavily padded sleeve to  appear where it would do the most good. “Remind me to introduce you to a  pedicurist.”

“Who?” the owl hooted, looking more surprised than any owl had any right to.

“Do not change the subject,” Discord scolded. “It is just I.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

“Who?”

“The one and only Discord.”

“Who?”

“The spirit of chaos.”

“Who?”

“Never  mind, this is getting old, fast,” Discord said untying three letters  from the bird’s leg, while the three fillies watched the exchange like  cats observing a tennis match.

“Here you go.” Discord floated the  letters down to the waiting hooves of the fillies. “Now then, we need to  send back an acceptance so the school knows you are coming. Since the  deadline has passed, someowl is going to have to make a trip through  time as well as space.” Another snap marked the appearance of a new  letter tied to the owl’s leg.

“Who?” the owl managed to hoot, looking worried.

“I think you know who,” Discord stated, snapping his claws. The owl disappeared in another dazzling flash of light.

“Argh!”

“Not again!”

“Remind me to bring my peril-sensitive sunglasses next time we plan on talking to Discord!”

“Hmm.”  Discord studied the digits he had used for snapping. “Maybe using that  toothpaste on my claws wasn’t such a bright idea. Or rather, it was too  bright of an idea.” 

“You used toothpaste on your claws?” Scootaloo asked.

“One  needs to maintain proper hygiene.” Discord nodded. “Lucky for you, I am  ambidextrous. Now, where were we? Ah yes you will be requiring funds  for tuition and supplies. That is not going to take much magic to  accomplish.” He snapped and a gaudy cabinet appeared.

“Is that one of Rarity’s work cupboards?” Sweetie asked, squinting.

“I  do not think she will mind contributing toward your education,” Discord  said as one of the drawers opened and some gems floated out. “These  will do nicely,” he commented, loosely holding a pouch into which the  jewels floated. “You will need to take them to the bank; then, you  should have more than enough.”

*Snap!* 

The cupboard disappeared.

*Snap!*

A  tightly rolled scroll secured by a red ribbon appeared. “This is your  ticket home,” Discord said, floating the scroll into the pouch, which  should have been too small but wasn’t. “Once you learn enough magic that  is. Now then, is there anything I am forgetting?”

“Apples?”

The other two fillies gave Apple Bloom dirty looks.

“What?” Apple Bloom said defensively. “Mah sister always says it’s a good idea to pack apples.”

“There  will be plenty of food where you are headed,” Discord replied. “Which  reminds me.” He snapped again and three pendants appeared, only to make  their way into the pouch. “You will need these to fit in at first, not  that you won’t make friends fast.” He tied the pouch shut before tossing  it in the general direction of the fillies. Somehow it ended up on a  lanyard around Apple Bloom’s neck.

“Thank ya kindly,” Apple Bloom said reflexively. 

“That  should cover it,” Discord said. “You are all equipped, except for the  wooden sword. And thus, begins your grand quest. Off you go!”

There  was one final snap of his claws and then the fillies were no longer on  the path leading to Fluttershy’s. Blinking their eyes, the young  adventurers found that they were in an alleyway, a particularly dirty  alleyway, right after they had taken a bath.

“That went better than I was expecting,” Sweetie Belle said around the letter she still held in her mouth.

“Less  than two minutes after asking Discord for a favor an’ we find ourselves  in a strange alleyway?” Apple Bloom shot her a look. “Actually, Ah’d  say that’s about average.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Sweetie warned. “He might decide to get creative.”

Meanwhile, Scootaloo had given into her curiosity and was reading her letter. “Girls?” she asked. “What the hay is Hogwarts?”
> Chapter 1: Filling Quest Objectives
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three little fillies sat in a dirty alley examining their letters, letters that weren’t from Celestia’s school in Canterlot.  Things were not going according to plan.

“Aaaaaaaand,” the first filly, a little orange Pegasus named Scootaloo began, “check Cutie Mark Negotiators off the list.”  The other two fillies just gave her dirty looks.

“That wasn’t a negotiation.”  Apple Bloom shook her head.  “We got stuffed in a box and shipped off ta Saddle Arabia.”

“Only, without a box,” Sweetie Belle agreed, “or Saddle Arabia for that matter.”

“Or a wooden sword.”  Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle turned to stare at Scootaloo once more.  “What?  Discord said we’d need a wooden sword…  I’d kinda feel better if we had a wooden sword.”

There were three seconds of silence before Apple Bloom walked toward the exit of the alley way.  “Well, standing around ain’t getting nothing done.  Ah’ll go see what’s what; you two wait here.”  

The other two girls sat and puzzled over their letters for all of 23 seconds before Apple Bloom came galloping back.  “Girls,” she hissed, obviously trying to be quiet, “we are bucked!  So totally bucked.”

Sweetie Belle stared at her friend; she wasn’t used to her swearing like that.  “Let me guess.  Hogwarts is in a country populated by intelligent pigs covered in unsightly skin blemishes.”

“Thar ain’t no pigs out there.”  Apple Bloom shook her head violently.  “If’n they were, they’d be some mighty long pigs.  Ah ain’t ever seen anything like ‘em before, ‘cept maybe a minotaur.  An’ they ain’t no minotaurs.  An’ thar all wearing dresses, even the ones Ah think ‘r’ stallions.  An’ there are a lot of them.  An’ not a single pony in sight!”

“Calm down, Apple Bloom.  You’re letting your accent show.”  Scootaloo trotted up to her and used her mouth to undo the pouch around Apple Bloom’s neck.  “Remember, Discord gave us some pendants to fit in.  Didn’t you listen when he was giving the quest?”

“But . . . but . . .  Ah ain’t got no act-cent.”

Scootaloo snorted in reply and tossed the chain of one of the pendants around her neck and mane.  In a blink, there was no longer a pegasus standing in an alley.  In her place was a cute eleven-year-old girl.  From the neck down, she resembled a minotaur.  For clothing, she was wearing a light red skirt and pale pink blouse. Surprisingly, her head was rounder than what a minotaur’s might be and had no horns, though she still had a purple mane.  The lack of any fur or feathers on her face really only brought one animal to mind.

Sweetie Belle turned to Apple Bloom and said, “You were right.  She’s a long pig.”

“Nah,” Apple Bloom shook her head.  “The nose is too small, and I think her skin is too pale to be a pig’s”

“I’m not a pig.”

“We’ve seen you eat,” Sweetie Belle replied.

This earned a glare from the newly minted whatever she was.  “Hurry up and put yours on.  I want to explore.”

Soon she was joined by two other girls in red skirts and pink blouses, with matching pink trainers to protect their feet.  If one looked closely, they could see the resemblance to the ponies that they really were.  Knowing that minotaurs walked on their hind legs with ease made it not strange to be doing it themselves.

One would be forgiven for thinking that these three newly transformed girls were taking their unique situation rather nonchalantly.  In which case, one would just need to remember a trio of facts.  First, the girls were residents of Ponyville.  Anypony familiar with the local would say, “Nuff said,” and move on.  Secondly, these three fillies were known to have frequent outings in the Everfree Forest, unsupervised outings, as in without a grown-up present.  Thirdly, well, they were friends with Discord.  If that doesn’t teach one to be acclimatized to the bizarre and unusual, then one probably has mental issues.  Though, in all seriousness, hanging out with Discord could probably cause one to have said mental issues.

Confident of their ability to blend in with the locals, the trio made for the exit of the alley.  They stepped out into a wider street area abuzz with more of the long pigs, long pigs of all shapes and sizes, though all of them seemed to be at least twice as tall as the girls.  All of them were clothed in whole-body-covering dresses.  Some had hats on, but the dresses were everywhere.

Gawking at the display, Scootaloo wasn’t watching where she was going.  She managed to trip on a crack in the sidewalk, bounce off one of the larger long pigs, rebound and flip over the outstretched leg of another who was taking a step forward.  Completing 270 degrees in midair, she landed on her back in front of the astounded pedestrian.

Slightly stunned, she stared up at the clearly older long pig who stared back and said, “Tonks?”

“Whu?” Scootaloo intelligently replied.

“Tonks, is that you pretending to be a firsty?”

“Uhm, no?” Scootaloo glanced at her friends, silently asking how she should handle this.

“Nymphadora, seriously.  Is that you?”  The long pig smiled down at the befuddled girl.

“I’m gonna have to go with no again.”

“Well, certainly not.  You didn’t try and kill me for calling you Nymphadora.”

“Ummmmmmm, yeah,” was another brilliant response.

“She’s sorry that she used your leg as a ballerina pole,” Apple Bloom intervened.  “She was just trying to take in the sights.”

“That’s quite all right,” the long pig grinned in reply, “you must be muggle-born.  Diagon Alley is rather overwhelming the first time you see it.  By the way, my name is Euan, Euan Macduff.”

“Apple, Apple Bloom” was the reply.  “These here are Sweetie, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.”

Euan raised an eyebrow, “Just Scootaloo?”

“Err... yeah.”  The purple haired girl stood up and dusted herself off.

There was a small pause.  “I suppose you three are here to get your Hogwarts supplies.”  To this there were three nods.  “Have you changed your money over to galleons yet?”  To this he received three blank looks.  “Right then, you’ll want to head over to Gringotts then.”

“Gringotts?” was the chorus.

“See that building over there?”  Euan pointed down the road at a large marble building.  “That’s the goblin-run bank.  They’ll be able to help you there”

“Oh, quest objective.”  Scootaloo smiled.  

Euan looked at her, slightly flabbergasted.  “You should probably hurry.  It’s getting along in the day.”

The girls thanked him for his assistance and made a beeline for the bank.  They drew to a halt several feet from the doors of the building to stare at the guards.  They were smaller even than the girls, yet they wielded some nasty-looking spears, and they were green.

“So,” Sweetie whispered to her party, “I suppose we call those short pigs?”  She was very lucky that the guards were not paying a lick of attention to the young foolish witches.

“Nah, with those teeth thar ain’t no way thar related to pigs.  ‘Sides, didn’t you hear Euan call ‘em goblins?”

“Does that make Euan and his people long goblins?” Scootaloo wondered.

“I don’t rightly know if I wanna be a long goblin.”  Apple Bloom shuffled her feet.  “The short ones scare me.”

“Right now, I don’t care,” Sweetie stated.  “We haven’t had lunch yet, and I’m hungry.  I say we get some bits and find a restaurant.”

“Galleons.”  Scoootaloo resumed her trek toward the quest objective.  “Euan called ‘em galleons.”

<->

Inside, the bank was busy.  There were lines of long goblins waiting for their turn at short goblins tellers.  Being no strangers to the concept of banks, the trio got in line to wait their turn.  Watching the hustle and bustle of the goblins, long and short, was more than entertaining enough to make up for the usual boredom of waiting in line.  Soon enough, it was their turn.

“Next!”  the short goblin behind the teller bars snapped, not even looking up from the ledger he was writing in.  The girls hurried up to the counter.

“Hello.”  Sweetie Belle smiled at the angry-looking individual.  “How are you today?”

The goblin head snapped up with a startled look.  Here was a young witch that just oozed friendship and sincerity, at a goblin no less.   Must be a muggle-born he thought.  “I am well, thank you. How may I help you?”

“We’d like to get some gallons please,” Sweetie answered, and Apple Bloom pulled a handful of gems out of their pouch and set them in front of the teller.

“You’ll be wanting to talk to one of our appraisers then.”  He turned and snapped his fingers, summoning one of the runner goblins to come forward.  He completely missed the way all three girls flinched when he snapped his fingers.  “Sharpthorn here will take you to Glemstone.”  Normally, the teller would make a witch or wizard wait at least 30 minutes before making such an appointment; however the girls had done something most wizards would not.  They had shown genuine kindness.  Granted, it was just a short encounter, but kindness given is often received in kind.

The girls all smiled at the teller and thanked him for his time.  Not a proper goblin goodbye, but it was heartfelt and the teller felt a glimmer of acceptance toward wizard-kind.  Then, he turned to the next wizard in his line who scowled back with impatience, and it was gone.

Sharpthorn led the girls through an arch set in the back of the bank, into a hallway with many office doors.  He walked up to one and opened it. “Please wait in here.”  

The girls found themselves in a small office with a desk and five chairs arranged before the desk.  Taking their cue, they each took a seat.  Then, they all fell out of their chair because they tried to sit like ponies.  As they were picking themselves off the ground, another goblin entered the office.  Shaking his head at the foolish children, he moved to sit behind the desk.  Not rushing, he reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a ledger and some jewel assessing equipment.

“I understand you have some jewels you wish to sell,” was his curt statement.

“Yes sir,” Apple Bloom gulped and retrieved a handful of gems from her pouch.  “We’d like some galleons please, sir.”

“’Sir’ is a human term,” the goblin snapped.  “Please call me Glemstone, or if you must appraiser Glemstone.”

“Yes, Glemstone,” the girls chorused.

Glemstone peered at the witch whelps for a bit, trying to decide if they were trying to be funny or not.  “Time is money.  Let me see those gems.”

Apple Bloom obeyed and set them on the desk hurriedly.  She then scooted back as fast as she safely could.  Ram rod straight in her chair.

Glemstone smiled nastily and picked up the first gem.  He took his jeweler’s loupe and began his examination.  The nasty smile gave way to a look of concentration.  A minute later he put down the first gem.  “This one alone is worth more than you three could safely carry.  I assume you have a vault with Gringott’s?”

The three girls shook their heads.  Sighing, the goblin took three forms out of a desk drawer.  “Then I assume you each want one.”

“Is it alright if we just share one?” Scootaloo squeaked.

Glaring at the annoying girls, the goblin put two forms back.  “There is a 3% transaction fee for each gem.  Fill out this form and Sharpthorn will take you to your vault.  The gold for the first gem will be there when you arrive.  The gold for the rest will be there tomorrow.”  The perplexed goblin watched the girls fill out the form by holding the quills in their mouths.

“May I ask what you are planning to do with that much gold?” Glemstone inquired; he could make a nice commission if he set them up with an account manager.

“Um, school?” Sweetie Belle answered.

“And have you paid your tuition yet?”  Three blank stares where all the answers he needed.  Sighing once again he asked, “May I see you Hogwarts letters?”

Apple Bloom pulled the letters out of her pouch and handed them over.  Glemstone pulled a wooden box out of yet another drawer and dropped all three letters in the box.  He then counted to four and removed the letters, handing them back to Apple Bloom.  “Your tuitions shall be taken from your vault.”

There was a round of thanks from the girls.

Glemstone decided to go for broke.  “I will set you up with an account manager to help you with your gold.”

The girls gave another round of thanks.  Well, that was an easy commission.  “Now leave me to finish here.  Follow Sharpthorn.”

“Yes, Glemstone.”  The girls complied and hurriedly followed the smaller goblin out the office.  

Glemstone smiled.  That had been his best encounter with humans ever.  

<->

Five minutes later, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, with eyes screwed shut, were clutching each other, scared for their lives.  Scootaloo, on the other hoof, was having a blast as their minecart rocketed through the winding tunnels of Gringotts.

Sharpthorn was upset.  Gringott’s minecarts were supposed to be impervious to witch magic.  He looked at Scootaloo and said, “I’m not sure how you are doing it, but could you please stop making the cart go faster.  I almost missed our last turn.”

“Aww,” Scootaloo pouted.  “Do I have to?”

“Yes!” every other occupant insisted.  They were killjoys.

“Apple Bloom, how many gems do we have left?”   Sweetie Belle asked.

“If’n you wait till we stop, Ah’ll check.”  Apple Bloom hugged Sweetie Belle tighter to herself.

“We have stopped,” Scootaloo informed them.

Shakely, Apple Bloom followed Sweetie Belle from the cart.

“That was awesome!!!!!!” Scootaloo cheered.

Three sets of eyes were glaring at her.  

“She sits in the back on the way up,” Sharpthorn growled.  “I don’t want her anywhere near the controls.”

“Awwwwwwwww.”

Sharpthorn turned on his heel and led the girls to a large stone door.  He reached into a pocket and withdrew three keys which he distributed to the girls.  “Here are your vault keys.  Hold them a minute to let them get to know your magic.”  The girls held their keys; Scootaloo chewed on her’s a bit.

“May I have one key now.” Sharpthorn received Sweetie Belle’s unchewed key.  He turned to the stone door and somehow inserted the key.  There was a grinding noise and the door slowly opened outwards.

Inside was a large stone chamber, empty except for a pile of gold.  The pile was as tall as the girls were and twice as wide.  “Wow,” Sweetie Belle intoned.  “We can buy a lot of milkshakes with that many bits.”

“Galleons,” Scootaloo reminded her.  “Um, how many gems did we have left again?”

Apple Bloom removed her pouch and said, “Looks like ten.  An’ I honestly don’t wanna go back to Glemstone.”

“You could just leave them in your vault,” Sharpthorn advised.  “They will be safe here.”

“Okay.”  Apple Bloom put the gems on the ground next to the pile of gold.

“Okay, let’s see how many bits we can fit in our pouch.” Sweetie grinned.

“I have a purse for each of you,” Sharpthorn spoke up holding up three bags, each about the size of a cigarette pack with a bronze clasp at one end.  “They can each hold 300 galleons easily and have a featherweight spell on them.”

The girls thanked the goblin and shortly there were three small light purses filled with gold, which each girl pocketed.

“Do you think that will be enough for our school supplies?” Apple Bloom asked their escort.

Sharpthorn grinned.  “You could each buy your supplies ten times over with what you carry.”

“Good, now let’s go eat.” Sweetie declared.

The ride up was less nerve racking.  Scootaloo rode in the back.

As the cart pulled to a stop, Sharpthorn offered some advice.  “Most shops will be closed or closing soon.  You probably want to get your parents and get a room either at the Leaky Cauldron or out in muggle London and do your shopping tomorrow.”  He looked at Sweetie Belle, “You can also get a good meal at the Leaky Cauldron.”

The girls looked at each other guiltily then nodded their heads.  They quickly exited the bank soon after.

<->

Standing outside Gringotts, the girls were deciding what to do next.

“Well, we now know the long pigs are called ‘human’.” Scootaloo started the conversation.

“We do?” Sweetie and Apple Bloom turned their attention toward her.

“Yeah.”  Scootaloo shrugged.  “Don’t you remember Glemstone mentioning it?”

“Told you we weren’t pigs,” Apple Bloom admonished Sweetie, who blushed.

“Also, you do realize we aren’t going to be making it home for dinner tonight.”  Scootaloo brought up the next point.

“But we missed lunch,” Sweetie complained.

“Remember, Discord said we had to learn magic to use our ticket home.”

Apple Bloom looked right at Scootaloo, “You’re getting a mite involved in this whole quest thing, ain’t cha.”

“I’ve learned to pay close attention to what Discord says.”  Scootaloo shrugged.  “He always does exactly what he says.”

“My sister is going to have a hissy fit.”

Another shrug and Scootaloo said, “Don’t worry.  Discord will tell them where we are.  If it’s too big a deal they’ll badger him to come get us.  Besides, I think they’ll go along with the whole school thing.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with our Scootaloo?” Apple Bloom asked

“Hee hee, if you read enough Daring Doo you get a hang of the whole quest thing.”

“Oh,” Sweetie said.  “That makes sense.  I was beginning to wonder there for a bit.  You’ve had the answers all day today.”

“Except,” Apple Bloom looked at the slowly emptying Diagon Alley, “what do we do now?  We pretty much used up everything Discord told us to do.  Except the shopping, which won’t happen ‘til tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s easy.”  Scootaloo smiled.  “Sharpthorn gave us the next quest objective.”

“Food first, then quest.”  Sweetie Belle needed a Snickers(TM) bar; she was starting to get cranky.

“Same thing,” Scootaloo replied.

“Um.”  Apple Bloom had a thought that was probably important.  “What exactly do humans eat?”

<_>

Their next stop wasn’t hard to find.  All they had to do was ask the first human stallion they spotted, and he was more than happy to take the time to lead them straight to their destination.  However, there was a bit of surprise when he took out a stick and tapped a blank wall.  Said wall then rearranged itself into an archway.  The place they sought was just on the other side of the arch.  By this time, Sweetie Belle was seriously considering just finding a patch of grass to gnaw on.

The Leaky Cauldron turned out to be a dingy sort of place, nothing like Sugar Cube Corner.  Instead of individual tables and chairs, the majority of seating appeared to be booths set next to the walls.  Surprisingly, this wasn’t intimidating; instead it felt strangely welcoming.  The girls were quick to claim a booth of their own, excited by the promise of a meal.  A larger human stallion in an apron soon found his way over with a friendly smile on his face.

“Well, hello there,” he beamed.  “Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron.  I’m thinking you three young ladies have just finished your shopping for Hogwarts and have decided to have a meal in celebration.”

“Actually,” Scootaloo frowned, “we got here too late to do our shopping.  We were told to get a room here for the night.”

The human clapped his hands together, “You’re in luck, as it is, I only have one room left with one bed.  With a little transfiguration, I’m sure you and your parents will be most comfortable.”

“We’ll take it!” Apple Bloom declared.  “An’ we’re here by ourselves, so one bed should be fine.”

The human let a frown play across his face.  “You three are here by yourselves?  Without supervision?”

“Uh huh,” Scootaloo beamed.  ‘We’re going to magic school!”

“I see.”  The smile returned.  “Well then, let’s get you fed and in bed.  Your probably in for a big day tomorrow.  Do you know what you’d like for supper then?”

“Food!” Sweetie Belle insisted.

“How about three shepherd pies and milk then?”  When he was met by three nods, he promised the meals would be out shortly.  He patted Scootaloo on her head affectionally and then headed toward his kitchen where the food was to be prepared, and, more importantly, where his private fireplace was located.

<->

Minerva McGonagall was having a quiet evening going over paperwork in her chambers.  The start of a school term was always hectic no matter how much preparation she put in.  This year had not been an exception.  In fact, she had yet to be able to contact three of the muggle-born students who had been sent letters.  The whole situation was beyond frustrating.  

There had been a reply from the students confirming that they would be in attendance.  In fact, the reply for all three came on a single parchment.  This in of itself was peculiar, since muggle-borns, more often than not, sent their confirmations on that lined paper muggles preferred.  The address associated was even more so.  Forty-two degrees inward of north and half past yesterday; Ponyville, was utter gibberish.  With less than a week left, McGonagall, the deputy headmistress, had not yet been able to make sure these children were properly taken care of.  Yes, it was frustrating.

Suddenly, the flames in her fireplace flared bright green and the disembodied head of an old friend put in an appearance.

“Minerva,” the head spoke, “are you there?”

“Hello Tom,” she answered, surprised at the intrusion.  “Yes, I’m here.”

“Good, good,” Tom gave one of his infectious smiles.  “I was just flooing you to let you know of a curious situation.”

“Oh?  Curious, you say?”

“Yes, Minerva,” he nodded.  “I’ve had three girls show up for supper and a room.  They say that they’re going to Hogwarts, and they don’t have any supervision.  I thought it best you should be informed while I made sure they got fed.”

Minerva blinked; who would throw three young girls into a new world of magic without supervision?  She severely hoped it wasn’t another case of an overly religious family getting rid of their witches.  That was never a pleasant time.  “Did you happen to get their names?”

“No,” Tom grimaced.  “That slipped my mind.”

“No matter.”  Minerva set down her papers and made her way to the fireplace.  “I do believe I know who they are.  May I come through?”

“By all means.  Be my guest.”

<->

Meanwhile, three young ladies waited as impatiently as only the young can.  They were hungry and thirsty, and they had missed lunch.  The booth they were in didn’t even have a vase of flowers to nibble on.  They were ecstatic when the stallion in an apron returned carrying a tray.  The fact that he set the tray down to hover next to their table actually went unnoticed when overshadowed by the prospect of food, as did the human that followed him.

The girls thanked him and dug in as if starved.  They weren’t really inspecting what they were eating, just recognizing that it was mashed potatoes with something mixed in, accompanied by bread and milk.  That was something of a pity, because there was a whole conversation waiting to be had if they had been more observant.

<->

Minerva stood and watched the young girls make short work of their meals.  She could tell at a glance that the children were well-fed and healthy.  They were all wearing similar, if shockingly pink, outfits.  The only real difference was the bow one wore in her hair.  Each had hair that was of unusual color.

The voracious eating habits were probably the results of one missed meal by those not used to missing one, nothing more ominous.  This observation was supported by the fact that none of them seemed to be guarding their food nor watching for anyone whom may try to take it away.  In fact, they hadn’t even noticed her yet.

As if cued by that thought the red-headed child, with hair brighter than even a Weasley, swallowed her mouthful and acknowledged Minerva.  “Hello?”

Minerva gave a disarming smile.  “Sweetie Belle?”  The girl with the purple and pink hair looked up at the mention of her name.  “Apple Bloom?”  The red head nodded.  “And you would be Miss Scoot Aloo?”  The purple-haired youth stopped shoveling food in her mouth with a look of surprise.

“My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress for Hogwarts,” she said by way of introduction.  “May I have a seat?  I do believe we have matters to discuss.”

Sweetie Belle nodded and scooted over since she was sitting by herself on one side of the booth.  

Minerva smiled at the gesture, but instead of sitting in the offered spot, she pulled out her wand and conjured a chair at the end of the booth.  She noted that the girls seemed impressed by the feat of magic, but not overly surprised.   Once sitting, she continued.  “Normally, I would have come to each of your homes to escort you through Diagon Alley for the first time.  A . . . peculiarity . . . in the addressing spells deprived us of that opportunity.”

The girls all had a flash of guilt cross their faces as she said this.  Whatever their home situations might be would bear looking into if this continued.  “It seems, however, that you three managed to find your way here yourselves.”

“We had help,” Miss Aloo offered.

Minerva nodded, “And then you were left here to fend for yourselves?”

“We’re big girls,” Miss Bloom insisted.  “Mah sister says we need less supervision than we needed just last year.”

“And your parents agree?”  This was meet by a look of sadness from Miss Bloom, negating the need for an answer.  “I see. Very well, I assume you were provided means for your expenditures?”  

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo turned toward their walking dictionary who said, “We got galleons from our vault.”

This was a surprise.  Muggle-born, didn’t have vaults.  “Your vault?”

Miss Aloo nodded, “Yeah, they gave us a vault when we traded in our gems.”

“You didn’t use pounds then?”

“I’m pretty sure those gems didn’t weigh no pound,” Miss Bloom frowned, “not even a half pound.”

Tom came over with a mug of butterbeer for the professor.  “How are we doing then?” he asked.

Miss Aloo smiled at the bartender, “That was awesome.  How much do we owe you?”

Tom glance at Professor McGonagall, “That will be 3 galleons four sickles for the meals and the room.”

Miss Belle frowned at that.  “All we have are galleons. We weren’t told we need sickles too.”

“Miss Belle,” Professor McGonagall stated, “a galleon is worth 17 sickles.”

“Oh,” Miss Bloom said and pulled a Gringott’s purse out of her skirt pocket.  It was one the nicer ones usually associated with the more well to do accounts.  Minerva narrowed her eyes at the inconsistencies these girls were presenting in such a short time frame.  They had apparently been dropped off in the alley with little fanfare, yet their guardians obviously thought enough to leave them financially stable.  

The way they were dressed almost seems like an afterthought.  Minerva wasn’t aware of too many young girls being willing to dress in the exact same casual outfit, even being friends.  Maybe there was more to those garbled addresses than first met the eyes.

The possibility that their families had thrown these young witches out with the intent to disown was looming larger.  That would explain why they had been given a large sum.  Some families still had enough conscience to provide financially for their members even as they were discarding them.  Minerva had seen it happen before.  She would have to contact Gringotts and see to it that the girls had enough for their education as well as living expenses for the next seven years.  If not, she would have to see to finding funds or scholarships for these young witches.  She hoped she was wrong about her suspicions.  

Minerva talked to the girls for another half hour to get an idea where they stood.  Little enlightenment was added.  They seemed friendly and well adjusted, more like a socially raised muggle-born than anything else.  Yet, at the same time, they plainly were avoiding answering her probing questions into their home lives.  She had no explanation for their unusual names, their strange hair, or why they were seemingly unsupervised.

Hardly satisfied, Minerva promised to come by at noon the next day to help with their shopping and show them around the alley.  She had to hurry back to the castle and fill out paperwork for the goblins to give any insight to their finances, insight that she would need to gauge the level of spending to be had on the morrow.  She also needed to contact the ministry to see who was registered as their magical guardians.

The start of a school term was always hectic no matter how much preparation she put in.  Now it looked like she had extra work to pursue.
> Chapter 2: Please! No More Shopping!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three little fillies, turned three little girls, said goodbye to their new deputy headmistress before watching as the educator went to the large fireplace. Somehow, the old human mare turned the flames green, and then she walked into the fire. In the blink of an eye, she was gone. With startled shrieks, the trio ran to the fireplace, each intent on earning their first aid cutie marks.

Chuckling, the human stallion, whom they learned was named Tom, came up behind them. “I take it you girls aren’t familiar with floo travel.” The girls looked at him in wide-eyed panic. “Why don’t you come over here so you won’t be in the way.” Nearly as soon as the girls were standing next to him the flames once more flared green, and a skinny human stallion in a pale-yellow dress emerged. He nodded a greeting to Tom and the girls and made his way over to the bar.

Still chuckling, Tom patted Apple Bloom on the head. “Wizards and witches have been coming and going the entire time you’ve been here. Don’t tell me you just now noticed them using the floo.”

The CMC collectively did their best to dislocate their jaws and drop them on the floor. Tom’s chuckling turned into a belly laugh. “Well then, since you seem to be done eating, I suspect you’d like to see your room.” 

The girls followed Tom up the stairs and were soon standing in front of a door. Tom took a key out of an apron pocket and handed it to Scootaloo when he had a sudden thought. “Will it just be for the night, or are you planning to stay here until the train leaves for Hogwarts?”

“Train?” three voices questioned.

“Aye, the Hogwarts Express. Leaves the station in four days. I don’t suspect you’ll be wanting to wait on Platform 9 3/4 for the remaining time.”

“We’d like the room for four days then,” Sweetie confirmed. 

Tom nodded vowing to himself to keep an eye on the children. “Do you have any bags that you need help bringing up?”

Apple Bloom held up the pouch around her neck. “This here is our only bag.” Tom raised an eyebrow.

“It’s bigger on the inside,” Sweetie Belle helpfully supplied.

“Of course,” Tom nodded once more. “If you three need anything just come down and get me.”

The girls thanked him before entering their room. 

They walked in, closed the door behind them and stood there. One minute passed and nopony said anything. Two minutes passed and nopony said anything. Three minutes passed and Apple Bloom said, “We’re gonna learn how to travel by fire?” 

The girls were quiet for another minute, then came the synchronized exclamation, “Cutie Mark Firemancers! Yeaaaah!”

Now over their shock, the girls turned their attention to exploring their room. The bed was big and comfy, with plenty of room for the three of them. There was a desk, a dresser, and a pair of comfy chairs, big enough for two of them to sit in at once. Set into one wall was a door, which Scootaloo opened to find an attached bathroom.

It has been noted that the CMC had a habit of frequenting the Everfree Forest. Their experiences inside had led to some strange habits. One such habit was their method of making themselves seem bigger and more threatening. They accomplished this by having Apple Bloom plant her feet on the ground; Sweetie Belle would then jump on her back followed by the light pegasus on top. The tactic served them remarkably well against the aggressive wildlife of the forest and, as such, became a reflexive maneuver. This was the position Tom and two other human stallions found the girls adopting when they came barging into the room. The frightened shrieking of the girls had been heard all the way downstairs over the usual din of the Leaky Cauldron.

“What? What?” Tom and his help scanned the room brandishing their wands. “What’s wrong?!”

A bizarre totem pole of cuteness, the three girls simultaneously pointed towards the bathroom. “THE MIRROR TALKS!”





Sweetie Belle slowly awoke. She was content, if not very coherent. She snuggled closer to the source of warmth she was laying against. It was strangely smooth, a totally unexpected sensation that immediately brought her to full wakefulness.

It was Scootaloo, a furless, still comatose Scootaloo.

Realizing she’d get no more sleep, the naked Sweetie Belle slipped out of bed. It had taken a good half hour for them to get out of the outfits Discord had supplied.

It was obvious that the humans always wore clothes; in fact, they seemed obsessed with dresses. Indeed, the only human that she could remember, who had not been wearing a dress had been Tom. Therefore, it was best to keep their clothes as well preserved as possible. As such, there would be no sleeping in them. Sweetie Belle wondered if they were going to need to buy more clothes as well. Then it hit her. She didn’t have her brush. Worse, she hadn’t brushed her teeth last night. Rarity would be horrified if she ever found out.

“Girls get up!” She shouted at her friends “We’ve got things to do.”

“Huh?” Apple Bloom rubbed her eyes and sat up. “We ain’t got nothin’ to do ‘til noon.”

Scootaloo continued to snore softly.

“We’ve got to buy soooo many things beside school stuff. We need brushes, and tooth brushes, and shampoo and conditioner and luggage and more clothes and more clothes and laundry soap and hair curlers and wash cloths and towels and and and that’s just the beginning.”

For a second, Apple Bloom wondered when Rarity had gotten into the room. Meanwhile, Scootaloo continued to snore.

“Ah suppose we could do a bit o’ shopping a’fore Minerva McGonagall comes to help us.” Apple Bloom disengaged herself from the bed, prodding Scootaloo sharply. “But first, I wanna visit the water shed a’fore the mirror wakes up.”

“Good idea,” Sweetie agreed and headed toward the bathroom. Scootaloo snored some more.

Unlike Scootaloo, the mirror was awake.





Forty minutes later, the three girls bounced down the stairs into the Leaky Cauldron’s common room. Scootaloo, half awake, hadn’t tied her left shoe properly. Consequently, the loose string made her trip at the top of the stairs, and she took her two friends with her.

“Ugh, Git off!” Apple Bloom said from the bottom of the resulting pile up. The patrons looked on with amusement, not worried about injuries. After all, witches were a lot more blunt force resistant than muggle children.

After a bit of scrabbling, the girls were once again sitting in a booth. Instead of Tom, a human mare came over to take their order. Bowls of oatmeal and fruit were soon brought out and quickly consumed.

“Food ‘round here ain’t so bad,” one of the girls commented. “Could use some more apples though.” The other two didn’t even bother to argue.

“Anypony remember what’s on our quest list?” Scootaloo asked.

“No quests until noon,” Sweetie Belle replied. “So, I’m declaring the official shopping and exploring side quest.”

“But, shopping is part of the main quest,” Scootaloo whined.

“You can’t ever have too much shopping,” Sweetie insisted.

Suddenly, the fireplace flared and a human appeared, waved to the bartender and headed in the direction they wanted to go.

“And that thar is our cue.” Apple Bloom led them back into Diagon Alley, following the human’s wake.

In less of a hurry, the fillies wandered down the street. Sweetie Belle spotted their first stop, a small shop that sold basic household items. 

Fourteen galleons later she had stuffed many basic necessities into the pouch around Apple Bloom’s neck. 

“Do we really need six types of shampoo?” Scootaloo asked

“We only have three types,” Sweetie corrected. “The other three are conditioner.”

“OOOOOOOkay,” Scootaloo acknowledged, “but I’m still wondering how much room is left in that pouch.”

“That’s okay,” Sweetie smiled. “We need luggage anyway.”

Scootaloo winced, her strategy had backfired. There would be more shopping and less exploring.

A few quick questions posed to a passing human mare, and their next stop was a trunk store. This was slightly upsetting for the girls; they had been expecting nice regular luggage. The trunks looked sturdy, cumbersome, and heavy. Apple Bloom, being an earth pony, was more worried about the cumbersome aspect than the overall weight. Some things were just easier to carry than others, weight non-withstanding.

“Ah, welcome to my store. My name is Dylan,” the shop proprietor greeted his first customers of the day. “Here for some student trunks?” He pointed to a collection of trunks near the front of the shop. 

Scootaloo examined the merchandise and sighed, “Those look heavy.”

Dylan chuckled, "I’m sure I can throw in a permanent featherweight charm for a galleon.”

“Featherweight charm?” Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow, thinking of her Gringott's purse.

As way of an explanation, he strolled to one of the trunks further back in the shop and proceeded to lift the heavy-looking oak luggage with his pinkie finger. “There are a lot of charms you can put on a trunk. Our top end products have a multitude. The basic student models have none, but they can have the standard three easily applied.”

“What are the standard three?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Featherweight, muggle notice-me-not, and auto shrinking.” Dylan waved toward the trunks in the front again. “Tell you what, I’ll add them to your trunks at a discount. Shall we say a total of 7 galleons 8 sickles per trunk?

“How much for one of those top end trunks you were talking about?” Sweetie tilted her head to the side and stuck her tongue out in concentration.

“One of them would run you a hundred and thirty galleons at least.” 

“Great,” Sweetie smiled. “My sister always says not to skimp on good luggage, and you’ll save money in the long run. We’ll take three.”

Dylan was amazed at the sudden turn of the conversation. There was no way he’d take advantage of three children though; he found himself in the awkward position of down selling a customer. “That’s a lot of money. Perhaps you would like something less extravagant.”

“No, we’ll go top of the line please.” Scootaloo and Apple Bloom watched as Sweetie Belle continued to channel Rarity. The only thing missing was the word darling.

Dylan, for his part was at a loss. These three did not look like the average spoiled rich children he was used to. He wasn’t sure which way to go with this anymore, so he went along. “I could have three ready for you by one this afternoon. Are you looking for a specific style?”

“Whatever ya got handy,” Apple Bloom quickly answered as Sweetie Belle sucked in a breath to give a more detailed answer. Sweetie shot her a look of betrayal.

“I’m going to have to ask for a hundred galleon retainer to get started though.” Dylan insisted, half expecting to put an end to the sale right there. In response, the girls pulled out their purses. Their appearance made Dylan feel much better. The quality of the bags denoted that his customers could afford his best. In fact, they probably had a bodyguard nearby who was professional enough to stay out of sight. But still, it did pay to be cautious, “May I suggest you limit the number of people who see those purses. It would be wise to keep a few loose coins in your pockets for smaller purchases.”

“Um okay,” Scootaloo agreed for all of them. The shopping was going quicker than she feared.





Professor McGonagall had completed several tasks when she had returned to the castle the night before. She had filled out the specific paperwork required to do a financial inquiry and had owled them off to Gringotts. Then, she had checked the accounts receivable ledger. She was pleased to see that the automatically updating book had recorded the girls as already being in full for the year. There would be no last-minute scholarship hunting in this case.

That was one less worry. 

The next morning, there had been an owl waiting in her office first thing. It was from the girl’s account manager. Despite the letter being a politely worded ‘mind your own business’, Minerva was satisfied. Just having an account manager confirmed that they would be well within their means. This didn’t forego the whole disowning of magical relatives scenario, but at least money would not be a problem.

Minerva thought for a moment that she could be giving in to pessimism, but when the welfare of children was an issue, it couldn’t hurt to fail on the side of caution. At the very least, someone needed to be brought to task for inadequately minding such small children. Which brought the opposite possibility to mind. Their guardians may lack an understanding of what age it would be appropriate to leave children alone in Diagon Alley, a wholly preposterous proposition. 

She would have time to visit the ministry before meeting the girls.





Tom was not happy with his morning help. Becky had admitted to serving the girls earlier and seeing to them being fed. Yet, she had not done anything to keep them in the tavern, instead she had let them go wander the alley on their own.

In her defense, she had thought that they were with Robyn Wetherwell, who was the witch they had followed into the alley.





“Hey girls,” Scootaloo exclaimed, “look here. There’s some interesting looking shops down this side alley.”

They hadn’t gone two steps in that direction before a human mare rushed out of her shop and shooed them away, saying something about knock and burns being no place for them.





Minerva stepped out of the records office. Her investigations had resulted in the names of the girls’ guardians and magical guardians. Each girl had a single guardian for both magical and non-magical purposes. They weren’t muggle-born then. This only served to confuse the situation more. The office workers had found the paperwork to be complete, if not odd. The names of the guardians were distinctive as well: Rarity Belle, Apple Jack, and Rainbow Dash. 





“Look!” Sweetie squeaked. “Ice cream.”

There was a scramble to find seats.





Discord stood in the void and produced a pair of maracas.

“Montage montage,” he chanted, shaking the instruments.





Becky wandered down through Diagon alley, looking for the brightly-colored children whom Tom was worrying over. She spotted them at Florean Fortescue’s attacking an impossibly large sundae between the three of them. 

There was no reason to interrupt. She’d let her boss know what she found.





Minerva arrived at the Leaky Cauldron with plenty of time to spare. She should have time for a cuppa and a sandwich before the girls were due to come down for their shopping.





“Look, girls” Apple Bloom interrupted the trek back to the Leaky Cauldron for their appointment with Minerva. “A Fluttershy shop.”

The girls paused a moment to owl watch.





Tom wandered over to where Minerva had seated herself to watch the stairs for the girls’ entrance. “You’re looking the wrong way for the girls. Becky tells me they already found Fortescue’s.”

Minerva sighed and redirected her attention toward the alley’s entrance precisely as the smiling children wandered into the tavern. In that instance, she knew exactly whose house they would be sorted into.

“Miss Bloom, Miss Belle, and Miss Aloo.” She greeted them, noting that they were wearing the same clothes as yesterday. “I see that you couldn’t contain your patience and proceeded without me.”

“We had to pick up a few things besides school supplies,” Miss Belle explained.

“I see.” Minerva gestured for the girls to have a seat. “Have you eaten lunch as well?”

“We’ve had ice cream.” Miss Bloom grinned.

“Miss Bloom,” Minerva counseled, “ice cream is a dessert, not a meal.”

“It had peanuts, and pineapple and bananas,” Miss Aloo volunteered.

Minerva gave her a look letting her know that would not be sufficient. “In that case, before we commence shopping, I have a few questions. You appear to be wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Am I to understand you have no other outfits with you?”

“Um, I left all my other dresses at home,” Miss Belle confirmed, “I guess we’ll need a couple more?”

“Yah, this is my only bow. Ah’m gonna need more of em,” Miss Bloom agreed

“I assume that you’ll be needing undergarments as well.” Minerva received three blank looks in response. Two plus two was not equaling four here. “Are you expecting luggage to be delivered for you? Perhaps a pet like a cat.”

“No cats!” Miss Belle shuddered. “Definitely no cat.”

Minerva studied the bright-haired children in front of her and then said, “Very well, I can see that we’re going to need to do extra shopping today.” This got a groan from Misses Bloom and Aloo. “Shall we then?” She led the children to the alley and herded them to Ollivander’s right away. Normally his shop would be last on the list, but she had the feeling he might have some trouble pairing these witches with their wands.

The girls were enamored by the cluttered little store. They excitedly took in the sight of a multitude of boxes. And per his habit, Ollivander managed to somehow sneak up on his young customers. 

“My, you are a curious lot.” The three girls all squealed and whirled to face the eccentric wand maker. “This should be most interesting,” he continued. “Welcome to my little shop. You’re here for your first wands.”

“uuuu, Hello,” Miss Bloom shyly returned as the other two girls watched Ollivander with wide eyes. He turned his attention to the redhead.

“Indeed- Hello.” He ran his eyes over her form, taking in details that only he seemed to understand. “Shall we start with you then, Miss?” He trailed off, obviously expecting a name.

“Mah name is Apple Bloom.”

“Very well, Miss Bloom. Which hand is your wand hand?” Ollivander nodded when Miss Bloom hesitantly offered her right hand. He summoned a measuring tape from somewhere and set it to measuring, a task it did completely independent of the old man. Miss Bloom wasn’t sure if she should be keeping her eye on the animated and intrusive tape or the creepy old shopkeeper. 

After a minute, Ollivander exclaimed, “How intriguing, let’s see now. Maple 12 and a half inches with welsh green heartstring.” He deposited an ornate stick into Miss Bloom’s hand. “Give this a wave.”

Confused, she complied and the wand was snatched from her hand.

“No, no. Oak, Ridgeback nine and a quarter inch?” A different wand found its way into Apple Bloom's hand. 

Another wave and another snatch later, he mused, “Hmm ten inches dogwood phoenix feather, rather playful.”

Swish, snatch again, he continued. “No, eight and seven eights phoenix feather one more time.” Ollivander handed over yet another wand. “This one is made of . . .”

That’s as far as he got before Miss Bloom swished. Unbeknownst to everyone present, a small seed had fallen from the shoe of a previous customer; ending up lodged in the cracks of the wooden floor. The wand, jubilant at meeting its witch, channeled magic into that seed. There was an array of cracking and snapping, and in a blink of an eye, there was a plant stalk from the floor up and through the ceiling. It had to be at least six inches in diameter at the trunk.

Everyone in the shop stared at the new addition. 

“Let me guess,” Miss Belle deadpanned. “That one was Applewood.”

A huge grin crossed Ollivander’s face. “Why, yes. Yes, it was.”

“Figures,” muttered Miss Aloo.

The process was then repeated for the other two girls. Miss Belle was chosen by a 12-inch acacia and unicorn hair, while Miss Aloo found her match in an eleven and three quarters inched hazel wand, again with unicorn hair.

“Excellent, excellent,” Mr. Ollivander beamed as he fixed the damage caused by Miss Aloo’s wand acceptance. “That was a most pleasing round of wand matching.”

Miss Aloo held her wand at arm’s length and asked, “This isn’t gonna just blow up in my pocket, is it?”

“Unless you're channeling magic, there’s no need to fret over a magical surge.” Ollivander shook his head. “But, if you’re still worried I have wand holsters that help prevent accidental wand channeling. For a hazel wand, they are an advisable precaution.”

“We’ll take three,” Miss Belle declared and retrieved her money pouch. She was familiar with magical surges and was willing to take whatever precautions that were available.

There was an exchange of money, and then the girls were standing in front of the shop with their wands holstered on their left arms. 

“Shall we see about getting you three some student trunks,” Minerva suggested, “Carrying your purchases will be easier once you have one.”

“Oh, yeah,” Miss Bloom smiled. “Our trunks should be ready by now.”

“Ready?” Minerva raised an eyebrow. “You ordered custom trunks?”

“Maybe?” the girls answered honestly.





The walk to Dylan’s store was uneventful, and he was surprised to see the girls were followed by Professor McGonagall. He waved at his assistant, letting him know that it was time for him to mind the till.

“Hello again.” Dylan bowed. “Your orders are done. If you follow me into the back, I’ll be happy to give you a demonstration.”

Professor McGonagall wondered what manner of trunks the girls had purchased that they needed demonstrations.

In the back were three identical cherrywood chests. They were the same size as the student models out front and lacked any impression of being different. That is, save for a metal plate where the lock normally would be.

“Each of you take your wand and place the tip on the center circle etched in the faceplate,” Dylan commanded. “Then say ‘Sibi Stipitem’.”

The girls did as they were told. Nothing seemed to happen.

“That binds the trunks to you as the owner,” Dylan assured. “To shrink your chest, just tap the circle three times with your wand.” Shortly there were three matchbox-sized trunks. “And tap them anywhere three times to regrow.” Instantly three trunks returned to their original size. “Each trunk has six compartments; you access each individually by tapping one of the six squares under the main circle rune and saying ‘open’.”

Professor McGonagall interrupted him. “If you have an instruction book, then the children can play with their trunks later. I’m afraid we have substantially more shopping to complete today.”

“Of course,” Dylan quickly agreed. “They can also come back here if they have any questions.”





The next stop turned out to be called Madam Malkin’s. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom suffered through ninety-some minutes of torture as Professor McGonagall, Sweetie Belle, and the proprietress cobbled together three complete wardrobes. The only highlight was finding out that the first compartment of each trunk was four times bigger than the trunk was itself.

It was after this ordeal that they learned they could give shop owners their vault keys to stamp authorization for payment from their vault, a handy bit of knowledge, that.

From there, they went to Flourish and Blotts. They quickly realized they were going to come back later, because there was no way they’d hear the end of it if they didn’t bring back a small library for Twilight. 

As it was, Apple Bloom collected a dozen potion books above and beyond what was required. Professor McGonagall had assured her that the books in the school library would be more than adequate at supplementing the course book, but Apple Bloom insisted on buying them anyway.

A few stops later, they had everything on the list. The entire time Minerva continued to observe the reactions of her charges. She was getting more and more puzzled by their strange mixture of witch-born and muggle-born demeanor.

Soon enough, they entered the girls’ rented room, exhausted from the day of shopping. They were surprised to find a large owl waiting for them in the room. Startled the girls gawked at the bird.

“You should probably get your mail.” Minerva prodded Miss Aloo toward the bird.

Sure enough, there was a letter tied to the bird’s leg, which Scootaloo quickly collected, never taking her eyes off the sharp beak.

“What is it?” Apple Bloom asked.

“I’m not sure,” Scootaloo handed her the opened letter. “It has a lot of words I don’t know.”

“Well than.” Apple Bloom backed away. “Don’t be givin’ that here then. Sweetie Belle is a standing right thar.”

“If I may?” Minerva held out her hand to request the letter. She studied it for a minute and said, “These are forms required to be signed in order to allow your account manager access to your accounts for investment and other management.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Scootaloo acknowledged. “Glemstone did say we’d be getting an account manager.”

“You need to sign here.” Minerva pointed to the signature lines and handed over a quill she transformed from a small mint that had been sitting in a bowl on the dresser.

Scootaloo marveled at the quill for a minute before accepting it and signing the form . . .with her mouth.

Now, this is not a sitcom. People do not stand around ignoring clues all day when the answer is something outside the realm of normalcy. Furthermore, Minerva was not stupid. 

The brightly colored hair, almost no regards for clothing, the apparent gibberish for an address, access to seemingly large amounts of funds, the unusual records at the ministry, the peculiar names, all the little, funny things they said, and finally, writing with their mouths, these three children were not what they seemed. They were not human.

Minerva frowned and waved her wand, muttering a spell. There! The pendants each girl was wearing. Another wave and the pendants were summoned into her waiting hand.

Minerva blinked, and wished she had an anti-cuteness spell.
> Chapter 3: Filly Said What?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Minerva had seen and experienced many things in her lifetime.  War had taken her husband and many of her friends.  Even with wisdom, the wonders of the magical world had both daunted and amazed her.  She had long since admitted that there would always be one more thing capable of taking her by surprise.  Currently she was peering down at three such things.

Three young, well, horses were looking back up at her, none of them could have weighed over 25 pounds.  One appeared to be a unicorn, another a pegasus, and the third lacked both a horn or wings.   One of their most noticeable features was that they were brightly colored enough to make one’s eyes water.  As such they were probably more poisonous than strychnine laced with arsenic.  However, in their favor, Hogwarts itself had allowed them to be placed on the roster and the sorting hat would pick out anyone or anything inherently dangerous.  Aside from that, she had seen puffskein look more threatening.

With each passing second, the ears of each filly were being laid back on their skulls further, and their eyes were getting bigger in fear.  It was time to nip any complications in the bud.  “Well children, did you have anything else you wanted to tell me?”

The wee white unicorn raised her hoof, in the manner of a child raising her hand to ask a question, and said in Miss Belle’s voice, “I really need to use the bathroom right now!”

Minerva blinked, opened her mouth to say something, then blinked again.  “Please make it quick, Miss Belle.  You three have obviously left out things we will have to converse about.”  With that she turned and sat in one of the two comfy chairs.

There was a blur of white, and the bathroom door slammed shut.  

Minerva gestured to the remaining chair and the two remaining fillies climbed onto it.  Being as unthreatening as possible, she made several passes with her wand, checking each for poisons.  Thankfully, there was a notable lack of any toxin.

The toilet in the next room flushed followed, shortly, by the sound of the sink running water.  Soon, Miss Belle joined her friends.

Minerva regarded the sight in front of her.  It was both a first for her and at the same time a comfortably familiar situation.  Here were students sitting in front of her wondering just how much trouble they were in.  She waited patiently.  If they were guilty of anything, they would most likely tattle on themselves at this point.

“Discord was the one who thought we should look like you to fit in!” they all blurted, as one, into the uncomfortable silence.

Or, they would point fingers, err hooves, at the culprit.

“Fit in?” she prompted.  

“Fer school,” Miss Bloom offered.  “We wanted to go to magic school.  So, he helped us.”

“So, he bought you these pendants?” Minerva asked as she handed the neck pieces back to the fillies.  There was no reason to keep them from their owners and Minerva drastically needed a reduction of the cuteness levels in the room.

“Nah, he just made ‘em.”  Miss Aloo shook her small head and tossed the chain over her head.

The spell work of the pendants was some of the best Minerva had ever seen.  The small equines flowed quickly into human girls.  This was obviously magic beyond N.E.W.T level.

Also, readily apparent was that the chair was not intended for three girls, no matter how small they might be.  Miss Aloo had been pushed up and over the arm of the chair.  She somehow did a flip in the air and landed on her back.

“I’m ok,” she said raising her hand.  “That didn’t hurt.”

Sighing, Minerva said, “Expecto Patronum.”  Suddenly, a glowing cat appeared in front of the Professor.  Miss Belle squealed and hopped over the other arm of the chair to get away from it.

“Cat!”  The door to the bathroom slammed shut once more. Taken aback, Minerva let the patronus dissipate.

The sole remaining occupant of the overstuffed chair looked at Minerva and offered, “Sweetie Belle don’t take too kindly to cats on account of Opal.”

“There will be cats at Hogwarts.”  Minerva informed her.

“That’s great,” Miss Aloo said from her place on the floor, “We’re bigger than they are now.”

Thinking back to how small the fillies were in their true forms, Minerva was appreciative of how ailurophobia could be easy to come by.

“It won’t hurt you.” Another incantation and the cat was back. “Tom, we would like to take a meal up in the room if you please.  I believe we’ll have dinner salads.”  Minerva spoke to the cat, which flicked its tail and disappeared once more.

“Is that gonna be a regular thang?” Miss Bloom asked.

“That was my patronus,” Minerva replied.  “It is a difficult spell that not everyone can master.  When you do, it will be an animal that is specific to you.  As you saw, mine is a cat.”

“Ah don’t think you coulda pick a worse one for Sweetie.”  Apple Bloom frowned.

“Manticore,” Miss Aloo suggested.

“Okay, aside from a manticore that was probably the wo . . .” Miss Bloom corrected.

“Or hydra,” Miss Aloo once again offered up.

With a sigh Miss Bloom continued, “Okay …aside from a hydra or a manticore.”

“And then there are timber wolves.”

“Would you stop that!” Miss Bloom snapped.

“Behave,” Minerva commanded, and was pleased when she was instantly obeyed. She then projected to the bathroom door, “Miss Belle, the cat is gone.  You can come out now.”

The door creaked open and a pair of green eyes timidly surveyed the room.  

There was a quick summoning of two more chairs.  Then, Minerva said, “We seem to have been sidetracked.  You were about to tell me how you decided on Hogwarts for you schooling.”

“Well, yesterday we decided we wanted to go to magic school.  Since it was too late to enroll, with school starting next week and all, we decided to ask Discord if he could help,” Sweetie Belle explained and the other two nodded their heads in agreement.

“Yesterday?” Minerva spotted what she thought was a lie.  “We received the reply to your acceptance letters over two months ago.”

“Discord did say he was sending that owl thru time as well as space.”  Miss Bloom shrugged.  “Ah guess he sent it two months into the past.”

“I see,” Minerva frowned.  “So, this Discord managed to enroll you in Hogwarts, enchant three pendants, give you gems for money, transport you to the alley, and send a reply back in time all on a whim from you to go to magic school?”

“That sounds about right,” Miss Bloom agreed

“Discord got the gems from my sister’s boutique.”  Miss Belle nodded her head.

“Uh huh,” Scootaloo grunted positively.

“Does your family know you’re here?”

“Maybe?” the trio honestly replied.

Minerva valiantly fought the urge to facepalm.  She was going to have a wonderful conversation with Albus tonight.

“We shall proceed on the assumption that you will be attending as planned,” Minerva stated.  “Are there any special needs you may have?”

“We like apples?” Miss Bloom ventured and received eye rolls from the other two girls.

“That can easily be accommodated,” Minerva answered and waited futilely for the other shoe to drop.

“I got nuthin’.”  Miss Aloo shrugged.  “We’re not exactly sure how you’re different from ponies.”

“Besides,” Miss Bloom calmly asserted, “Discord said these pendants would help us fit in; I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“Hush you two,” Miss Belle whispered from the corner of her mouth.  “This is where we ask for all the cake we can eat.”

<->

Sometime later, Minerva rode the stairs up to the headmaster’s office.  She had sent a patronus asking Albus to call a meeting for the heads of house.  This was going to be one for the record books.  She didn’t even raise her hand to knock on the office door; Albus invited her in without the need as was his habit.

The plinking, wheezing, chirping, and other sounds emitting from the strange collections of devices met her senses and she was greeted with the sight of her colleagues sitting in comfortable chairs in front of the headmaster’s desk.  The warm atmosphere of the office sought her out and invited her in, as did the headmaster.

“Ah, Minerva, so good of you to join us,” said Albus Dumbledore, the very definition of an old wizard, smiling and beckoning for her to take a seat.  He was wearing an absurd baby blue robe that was highlighted in yellow sash and had animated trees dancing across it.

“Yes,” the head of Slytherin mused, “we are all on the edge of our seats, wondering why you have had us summoned.”  He was an unpleasant man, who routinely dressed all in black, and was named Severus Snape.

The heads of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff both sent him glares.

“I had to put a sensitive project into stasis in order to respond,” Severus gave as way of apology, or as much as he was known to apologize.  

Pomona Sprout, the aptly named herbology teacher and head of house Hufflepuff, scolded him, “Serverus, I’m sure she has a good reason for this meeting.  You would do well to show some consideration.”

The final head of house, Filius Flitwick, could only nod his head in agreement.  He was a small man, part goblin to be precise.  

“Now, Pomona,” Albus chided.  “I’m sure Serverus didn’t mean anything disrespectful.”

Pomona didn’t look convinced.  

Meanwhile, Minerva wordlessly sat down, causing Filius to raise an eyebrow at this uncharacteristic behavior.  

Skipping pleasantries, Minerva got directly to the point.  “We are going to have some unusual additions to the first-year students this year.”

Severus was unimpressed.  “If, you're referring to Potter, I do believe we were all already aware.”

“Hogwarts is going to receive its first unicorn student,” Minerva continued as if she had not been interrupted.

Filius’ eye slightly widened.  When had Minerva developed a sense of humor?

Everyone in the office stared at Minerva as if waiting for the punchline.

“There will also be a pegasus and another one known as an earth pony.”

The wait for the punchline continued in vain.

<->

“I can’t believe they put ham in a salad,” Sweetie Belle complained.  “Who does that?”

“It ain’t like you never had ham before,” Apple Bloom said, pulling a potion book from her trunk.  “We don’t have hogs on the farm just fer the manure ya know.”

<->

“Extra-dimensional ponies?” Severus repeated.

<->

“The cheese was a rather nice addition though,” Sweetie Belle conceded, sulking in a chair.

“I thought it could have used some dandelions.”  Scootaloo was fiddling with her trunk.

<->

“What kind of name is ‘Discord’?”  Pomona asked?

<->

“Wait a minute.”  Sweetie Belle suddenly looked up.  “What do you suppose was in that shepherd’s pie yesterday?”

Scootaloo tapped the 5th square on her trunk’s face plate.  “Dunno, but it was good.”

<->

“Apples?” Filius let his eyebrow lift again.

<->

“You don’t suppose they eat ponies, do you?”  Sweetie Belle shuddered.

“Nah, they seem too civilized to be going around eating anypony.”  Apple Bloom watched as Scootaloo climbed into her trunk.

<->

“The records at the ministry said what?”  Pomona did her best to suppress a giggle.

<->

“Cool!” Scootaloo’s voice called from inside her trunk.  “There’s a kitchen down here, and a bedroom; it’s a miniature apartment.”

<->

“You can’t possibly be serious,” Severus said for the sixth time.

<->

“Wait! Did you say kitchen?  I have my own kitchen?!”  Sweetie Belle clapped her hands together with glee while her friends both froze in horror at the realization.

<->

“You are serious.”  Filius gaped,

<->

Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle watched as black smoke poured out of Sweetie Belle’s trunk.

“Five minutes.”  Apple Bloom turned to Sweetie Belle “You owned a kitchen for exactly five minutes.”

Sweetie Belle whimpered.

There was a knock on their room door.  Tom wanted to know what was up with the smoke.

<->

“So, in summation,” Albus said, tapping his fingertips together and leaning back in his chair, “we have three unique new witches, who have confirmed access to a high-level enchanter.  Said enchanter may or may not have the ability to send owls back in time, two months being well outside the limits of our own knowledge.  This Discord was also able to penetrate the ministry and forge documents and in doing so displayed a questionable sense of humor.  On top of all that he most likely has the ability to send individuals through the dimensions, a feat that is theorized to be impossible according to six different laws of magic.”

Albus took a breath and continued, “Said young witches are actually members of a previously unknown equine species, apparently with extra-dimensional origins.  Clearly it would be wise not to intentionally antagonize said enchanter of unknown power or the children he has sent for education.  As only a fool of the first degree would risk such a potentially disastrous confrontation unnecessarily.”

There was a few second’s pause.

“So, you’re saying we shouldn’t inform the ministry,” Severus bluntly stated.

“Especially, not minister Fudge,” Filius agreed.

“This has been a very informative meeting,” Albus beamed.  “Lemon drop anyone?” he offered as he popped one into his mouth.

<->

“How, in the name of Merlin, did you manage to burn orange juice?” Tom asked popping his head out of Sweetie Belle’s trunk.

“Forget the orange juice!” Sweetie Belle squeaked.  “Can you save my kitchen?”

Behind her, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were frantically shaking their heads no.

Tom looked directly at Sweetie Belle and said, “Professor Snape is going to love having you in his potions class.”

<->

“Minerva,” Pomona asked, “What precautions have you taken to stop the girls from wandering into muggle London?”

Minerva stiffened slightly then headed toward the floo.

<->

“I’d say we’re due for a bath,” Sweetie Belle stated, rubbing her once-pink blouse.

“There were some nice sized tubs in our trunks,” Scootaloo suggested.

“That’s okay,” Sweetie Belle shrugged.  “There’s a perfectly good tub in the bathroom.

“You mean where the mirror is?” Scootaloo queried.

Apple Bloom looked back and forth between her friends, then said, “Sooooooooooo, your trunk or mine?”

<->

Sweetie Belle slowly awoke.  She was content, if not very coherent.  She snuggled closer to the source of warmth she was laying against.  It was strangely smooth.  A totally unexpected sensation that immediately brought her to full wakefulness.

It was Apple Bloom.  A furless, half asleep Apple Bloom, “Go back to sleep,” she said.  “We don’t have to be up yet.”

“That’s okay,” Sweetie Belle said slipping from bed.  “I’ll just go make us breakfast.”

A completely awake Apple Bloom leapt onto the floor.  “No, no, no, we don’t need to use the food stocked in our trunks.  It’s got all them preservation spells on them in case we need it.  We’ll just get breakfast downstairs again.”

“Awwww, but I wanna cook something,” Sweetie pouted, “like cereal.”

“Yah mean oatmeal?”

“No, I was thinking more along the lines of cold cereal,” Sweetie Belle corrected.

“Sweetie, you don’t cook cold cereal.”  Apple Bloom face hooved.  “That’ll be why it’s called cold cereal.”

“Oh.”  Sweetie smiled.  “I get it now.”

Scootaloo softly snored, blissfully unaware of the averted disaster.

“Why don’t cha pick out an outfit for each of us to wear?  You were paying attention when we bought it all.”

Sweetie gave Apple Bloom a serious look.  “You do realize we still have to pick up half the clothes we paid for yesterday.  We were told they’d be done this afternoon.”

“We were?  Ah mean, we ain’t gonna spend all day shopping like we did yesterday.”

“Books,” was Sweetie Belle’s one word answer.

“But we already tried for our librarian cutie marks,” Apple Bloom complained.  

Meanwhile Scootaloo snored onward.

“We got time to do shopping later.”  Apple Bloom stomped her foot.  “Ah’m declaring an ‘explore everything but the stores’ side quest.”

<->

An hour later, the girls walked down the stairs into the Leaky Cauldron’s common room.  It was still earlier than most people would be happy with.

They opted for oatmeal and fruit once again.  Becky even brought Apple Bloom extra apples.

“Don’t you be going anywhere now,” she said waving a finger at them.  “Professor McGonagall has made plans for you so that you’re less likely to be getting into trouble in the time left before school starts.  You’ll be wanting all your luggage from your room.”

The girls confirmed that they were carrying their trunks and Apple Bloom was still wearing the pouch.  Becky then used Scootaloo’s Gringott’s key to settle their tab.

As per usual, witches and wizards had been coming and going via floo the entire time.  One such wizard arrived, looked around and immediately headed to the girls' table.  He wasn’t wearing a dress, er, robe, as the girls had learned the fashion was called.  Instead, he had on a tweed suit and a funny hat, all of which Sweetie Belle thought clashed with his red hair.

“Good morning.”  He smiled cheerfully.  “It would be my guess that you three would be Apple Bright, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo.  My name is Arthur Weasley.  Professor McGonagall has asked that you stay with my family until school starts.

“Mah name’s, Apple Bloom.  Apple Bright is a cousin of mine, though.”  Apple Bloom was quick to correct the mistake with her name.

“Apple Bloom it is then.”  Arthur clapped his hands and rubbed them together.  “As this was a bit of a surprise for all of us, and I’ll be needing to head to work soon, shall we be heading out then?  Becky here can vouch for me.”

Becky just smiled, nodded and went back to her work.

Arthur herded the children over to the fireplace, “I understand this will be your first time using the floo system.”

The three girls just stared at the fireplace.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Arthur reached up and placed a sickle in a bowl and took down another filled with a green powder, “Okay, Sweetie Belle, you're first.  Take a pinch of powder, throw it into the flames and say, ‘the Burrow’ in a clear voice.  When the flames turn green just walk into them.”

Sweetie Belle looked at the powder suspiciously then took a pinch.  She walked up to the rough stone fireplace and felt the heat from the fire merrily crackling away.  Screwing up her courage she said the requested words and surrendered her pinch of powder to the fire.  Unsurprisingly, the flames turned green. She leapt forward, and was gone

Apple Bloom eagerly walked up next.  Arthur held the powder bowl for her to reach.  She quickly followed Sweetie into the flames.

Scootaloo was bouncing in place awaiting her turn.  She barely acknowledged Arthur while she retrieved her powder.  One quick phrase and a jump later and she found herself zooming along.  She was seeing into other human’s houses from a perspective of their fireplaces as she rushed by.  For a human witch, it would have been going too quickly for any clear coherent view, but not so for a human-pegasus witch.  She saw several informational scenes as she shot past.  For instance, a couple of fireplace views confirmed that it was probably human mating season.

Almost without warning, she shot out of a fireplace.  It should be noted, when Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had exited the fireplace, they had stumbled a little bit but were able to catch their balance and stop.  Not so with Scootaloo, she came out faster than the other two had.  She managed to get some air time, right up to the point she collided into the backs of her friends.  They all went down in a heap.

“Oh dear,” Scootaloo heard a voice say.  “Are you three alright?”  She looked up and beheld the largest human mare as of yet.  It was like a human Mrs. Cake, only a lot less blue.

There was another flash of green and Arthur Weasley arrived, “Well, then,” he said.  “I’d like to introduce you to my wife Molly. I'm afraid I can’t stick around, I’m already late.  But you’re in good hands, and I’ll see you tonight.”  With that, he rushed back to the fireplace and was gone.

“Ah think he managed to get that all out in one breath,” Apple Bloom commented as she took in her surroundings.  They were definitely no longer in the Leaky Cauldron.  They didn’t even appear to be in Diagon Alley.  Instead, they were in a cluttered, yet comfortable-looking, living room.  The entire surroundings radiated the feeling of ‘home’.  

“You all are so cute,” Molly said.  “Normally, Arthur would be eating with the rest of the family, but today he’s been summoned in early.  You, however, are just in time.  I was just about to call my children down for their breakfasts.

She walked over to a spiral staircase and yelled up, “Percy!  Ginny!  Ron! Twins!  Breakfast is ready!”  She then passed the girls, gesturing for them to follow her into the kitchen.

“We’ve already had breakfast, thank you,” Sweetie Belle let the human know.  She was surprised by the large table in the room, just off the kitchen, which was laden with food.  Apparently, this woman loved to cook, this woman whom Sweetie Belle would be spending a couple days with.  Perhaps here was an opportunity.

There was the sound of running feet and a young human filly entered the kitchen.  She was about the same size as the three girls already in the room and had red hair.  It wasn’t the same bright red that Apple Bloom sported, but more of reddish brown, leaning more to red than brown.  She stopped wide-eyed when she realized that her mother wasn’t the only occupant of the room.

“Hello.”  The members of the CMC came over to introduce themselves, “Mah name’s Apple Bloom.”

“And I’m Scootaloo.”

“I’m Sweetie Belle.”

“I’m Ginny,” the girl replied, smiling widely.  “Where did you come from?  What’s with your hair?  Did you use magic to get it that color?”

Molly watched on with a smile.  Her daughter could use someone her age for company.  It was a pity it would only be for a couple days until school started.

The twins singled out that moment to enter.  They were human colts, obviously older and bigger than Ginny, and they shared the same hair color as her, though they keep it much shorter than her.  They looked very much like one another.

“Well look here, Fred. We had an outbreak of little girls,” the first one said.

“I thought I was George,” the second protested, “but right you are, they seem to be coming right out of the woodwork.”

“They do indeed.”

“Some right bright colored hair too.”

“Almost like . . .”

“. . . they had a go . . .”

“. . . at playing . . .”

“. . . with our potion supplies.”

Apple Bloom had lost track of which was speaking but perked up at the mention of potion supplies.

“I’m gonna need some popcorn, if this is going to keep up,” Sweetie Belle deadpanned.  Scootaloo nodded in agreement.

“Fred, George,” Molly scolded.  “Don’t be bothering the girls.”

“Yes, Mother,” the two chorused and made their way over to the table to eat.

The next colt, with the same red hair, raced past them with barely a glance before he was seated and stuffing food in his mouth.

His mother evidently thought this wasn’t acceptable, and opened her mouth to say something, when the oldest colt yet entered the room.  This one nodded and said ‘Good morning’ before taking a place at the table.  

Molly huffed and said, “These two are Ron and Percy.  The twins are Fred and George; don’t bother asking which is which, as they change constantly.”  Ron and Percy lifted a hand to wave at the girls and the twins gave them a smile.

Ginny had obviously decided getting to know the visitors was more important than eating and had to be ordered to the table to eat.

Though the girls had already eaten, they decided to sit as well and witness the meal while they waited for their new acquaintances to finish their meal.  

They observed that humans had a fondness for bacon.
> Chapter 4: Sweeping Actions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and the children had been shooed outside to enjoy the weather.  The land was beautiful and alive, you could feel it in the very air.    

“Let me show you around,” Ginny offered, doing her best to monopolize the girls' time.  The boys just shrugged and headed off on their own.  Even learning that they would be in his class this year hadn’t raised Ron’s interest in the girls.  The twins were more than willing to give Ginny time to herself to make friends with the firsties.

The girls were only too happy to follow after Ginny on a tour of the Weasleys’ land.  They had just finished exploring the pond stocked full of frogs when Scootaloo looked up, gasped, and took off running for the orchard.  Puzzled, the rest of the girls followed.

Soon, they came upon the sight of the Weasley colts throwing a ball around.   This in itself wasn’t unusual.  Heck, you couldn’t go three days in Ponyville without coming across such a scene.  The fact that the sport was taking place thirty feet above the ground also wasn’t unique.   After all, pegsai liked to play ball, too.

No, the reason it was notable was quickly brought up by Scootaloo.  “You’re flying!”  She waved her arms wildly.  “Without wings!”

“Well, yeah,” Fred, or maybe George, started.

“We couldn’t play quidditch properly on the ground,” the other twin continued.

“Now could we,” the first twin finished

“You’re flying on brooms!” Scootaloo countered.

“How else were we supposed to fly?” Ron asked the crazy purple-haired girl.

“You’re flying without wings on brooms,” Scootaloo repeated, as if that explained her outrage.

<flashback>

Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo stood outside a shop in Diagon Alley and looked in the display window.  There were all kinds of weird brooms on display.  They had flashy names and were painted all kinds of racy colors.

“Wow,” Apple Bloom commented as she led the CMC away from the store.  “Thayr really serious about cleaning the floors ‘round here.”

</flashback>

Scootaloo glared at the hovering boys for a second more, then did an about-face and started marching toward the house.  

“Where are you going?” Ginny asked after her.

“Shopping,” was the reply.

Ron glided down and frowned.  “Us first years aren’t allowed to bring brooms to school.”  He knew exactly how Scootaloo must feel.

Scootaloo skidded to a halt and visibly wilted.

“You’re welcome to have a go on my broom as long as you’re here though,” Ron offered, in an amazing display of generosity.  

“Wait a minute now,” Apple Bloom interjected.  “You saying we can’t bring a broom ‘cause we’re first years?

The twins, Percy, and Ron all nodded their heads.

“But other students can bring as many brooms as they like?” Apple Bloom prompted.

Again, nods and Percy added, “Though most people don’t own more than one broom at a time, doubly so for students.”

“And first years can borrow these extra brooms?” Apple Bloom concluded, and the twins found they were definitely liking the way this girl thought.

“Great,” Scootaloo announced, and started marching toward the house again.  “Problem solved.”

“I believe problem rationalized would be a better description.”  Percy grimaced and followed.  He wasn’t sure what level of authority he had over their guests right now, but he was going to be a prefect, and had the badge to prove it.

“Brooms aren’t cheap,” Ron piped up, following as well.

“Don’t care,” Scootaloo said with no room for argument.  “I’m gonna fly.”

Shortly thereafter, the entire group funneled into the Weasley’s living room.

“We should ask mother,” Percy stated as Scootaloo made her way to the fireplace.

“It’s just a quick trip to the store.”  Sweetie countered.  Both Ron and Ginny were intrigued by the level of independence being discussed.

“Still,” Percy insisted, “it can’t hurt to . . .”

“Leaky Cauldron!” and Scootaloo was gone.

“Bloody hell.” Percy swore then followed.  Mrs. Weasley was upstairs busy cleaning and missed the entire exchange.

<->

Flying.  Scootaloo had dreamed of flying her entire life.  Small wings had translated into being landbound, landbound while the other pegasi claimed the skies.

Speeding thru the floo network she could all but feel the promised freedom. As she traveled she reflected.  If they thought she’d wait one -Those two were still going at it?!  That stallion had some stamina!-  If they thought she’d  wait one second longer than she had to, to be free of the ground, then they were greatly mistaken.  She would have the sky, and she would have it now!

Scootaloo shot out of the Leaky Cauldron’s fireplace, clearing half the common room before tucking into a roll and then standing in one smooth motion.  If anypony asked her she’d claim that it was a calculated maneuver, intended to expedite her completion of her prevailing endeavor.  As such, anypony, hearing this could conclude two things.  One, that she was indeed benefiting from associating with Sweetie Belle.  And two, that she was full of it.  

She ignored the gaping regulars as she hurried through toward the entrance to Diagon Alley.  Tom was still speechless over the sudden display when Percy appeared and immediately followed after Scootaloo.  There were no further surprises as the rest of the Weasley children plus two followed.

“I think we used the last of the floo powder,” Ron commented as they caught up with Scootaloo, who had her wand out and was attempting to open the archway into Diagon Alley.

“Third one up and over two,” George commented as Fred nodded, or Fred commented as George nodded.

“Be quiet,” Percy ordered him then he turned toward the opening archway expecting to find Scootaloo there and finding he was wrong.  “We need to get back home before Mum finds out.  Aw heck.”

“Come on Percy,” Ron said skirting around his brother.  “It’s just a quick in and out.”

“Besides,” Sweetie Belle skirted Percy on the other side, “we need to pick up some floo powder anyway.”  Then she muttered, “And get my kitchen fixed.”

Percy turned to face her and the twins went behind his back.  Whipping his head to track them gave Apple Bloom and Ginny their opening.

“We are going to be in so much trouble,” he muttered as he followed after his siblings.  There was a general scramble in the direction of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

<->

The shopkeeper in the store was used to children rushing his establishment in order to marvel at the brooms on display.  Having one with distinct purple hair march up to his till and demanding six of his best brooms was unprecedented.  If wizards had a candid camera show, he would have suspected being on it.

“Better get eight,” a redheaded young girl advised the purple haired child.  “I’m sure Ginny and Ron would like one too.”

The quidditch shopkeeper scoffed at the notion.  Imagine buying eight of his best brooms on a whim.  Besides, with all the red hair suddenly occupying his store, he was most likely dealing with Weasleys, and they weren’t exactly known for making large purchases.

“Eight then.”  Purple-haired girl took a vault key out of her pocket and slammed it on his counter.  

The shopkeeper was about to scold the annoyance when a Gringotts’ owl flew in through the open door and alighted before the first redheaded girl.  She removed the letter and quickly scanned it.  “It’s from our account manager,” she stated.  “He wants to see us at our earliest convenience.”

The shopkeeper decided it was best to just get the requested brooms and make the sale.  The Weasley children watched on as Scootaloo spent more on brooms in one minute than the entire annual Weasley budget.  They really should’ve said something about not accepting charity, but this was eight Nimbus 2000s. Surely, their mom wouldn’t mind them borrowing the brooms in exchange for the favor of storing them at school.

“Hey!” Percy said after scanning his charges.  “Where’s Sweetie Belle?”

<->

“Thank you, Mr. Dylan.”   The young girl beamed up at the trunk store owner.  “I’m so glad you could fix my kitchen for me.”

Bewildered, Dylan looked at his customer.  “You say you did that with orange juice?!”

<->

“You can try your broom after we find Sweetie, visit Gringotts, and get floo powder,” Apple Bloom said to the bouncing bundle next to her.  She had laid down the law that the brooms were to be put in her trunk for safekeeping against Scootaloo’s protests.  Ron and Ginny were also bouncing, but were keeping their protests in check to avoid the brooms getting snatched away without warning.

“There’s Sweetie.”  Ginny pointed to the other girl who was headed in their direction carrying a large sack, easily half her size.  “And it looks like she’s got a whole years’ worth of floo powder.”

“Why didn’t you put that in your trunk?”  Scootaloo rushed up to Sweetie and relieved her of her burden and then stuffed the bag in her own trunk.

“I saw you all go by the shop I was in and wanted to catch up with you, so I didn’t have the time.”

“Well hurry up.”  Scootaloo pulled Sweetie toward the bank.  “Apple Bloom’s not giving us our brooms until we go to the bank.”

“Calm down,” Apple Bloom commanded.  “You haven’t even known you can use brooms to fly for a whole hour yet.”

They were approaching the large marble building that was Gringotts.  While the goblins looked as active as before, it was still early enough that there weren’t many customers, and the girls were able to walk right up to a teller’s window.  The Weasley clan respectfully stayed back; it wasn’t their business.  The goblin had a neutral expression on his face as they approached.

“Good Morning!” Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom cheerfully chirped.

“Good Morning, good morning, good morning!”  Scootaloo literally bounced as she said this.

“Don’t mind her,” Apple Bloom moderated, not wanting to anger the goblin.  “She’s just in a hurry to try her new broom.  But our account manager has called us, and she has to wait.”

“Indeed,” the indifferent goblin replied.  “What is the name of your account manager?”

In response, Apple Bloom handed over the letter she had just received.

“I see you have responded most promptly.”  The teller snapped his fingers and a gofer stepped forward to assist.  “Railrun, here, will take you to your destination.”  The teller handed Railrun the letter.

“Thank you, sir,” the girls chorused, forgetting goblins didn’t like to be called ‘sir’.  Then, they buoyantly greeted Railrun.  Scootaloo may have been a little less buoyant than the other two, but, hey, the faster they were done, the sooner the sky opened.

As they shadowed Railrun from the room, Sweetie paused to motion for the Weasleys to follow.

“We really shouldn’t,” Percy started.

.

“Oh poo,” Sweetie countered, “there’s no reason to make you wait out here.”  She tugged Ginny after her.

Muttering, Percy and the other colts followed.

Railrun escorted them down the same hallway as last time, stopping at a different office door.  He stopped to knock and wait for a gruff ‘enter’ before proceeding.  The children tagged along into a plush room colored in blues and greens with single desk and chair.  Behind the desk sat another goblin who was frowning askingly at the intrusion.  Railrun hurried over and surrendered the letter.  He then quickly left the room.

The goblin behind the desk glanced at the letter and then said, “At least you responded to this letter, which is more than can be said for the last one.”  

“We’re sorry,” Sweetie Belle apologized.  “Something came up and we forgot all about it.”

The goblin snorted, “And you are?”

“I’m Sweetie Belle.  This is Scootaloo.  This is Apple Bloom. Here’s Ginny.  And Ron.  Fred and George. And finally, Percy.”  Sweetie Belle quickly introduced everyone by pointing them out.

“My name is Tricksno; I am your account manager.”  There was no room for nonsense in the reply.  “I only see three names on this account.  Were you meaning to add the rest of your family here to the control of the account?”

“No manager Tricksno,” Percy answered.  “We’re not to be added to the account control.”

“Very well, I see you are Weasleys.  I assume the Weasley clan head is to be your account contact point?”

The three fillies shared a look and Apple Bloom said, “Sure, why not.”

Percy, Fred and George were shocked at the power the girls had just given their father.

“Sign these so I may administer your account, and sign this to recognize clan Weasley.”  Forms were presented and signed.  Most present were astounded by the ability to sign papers by holding a quill in the mouth.

“Two more matters,” Tricksno continued.  “First, I see you’ve been making purchases, with a substantial one just this morning.  I suggest, from now on, setting aside 10,000 galleons per member per year for purchases, another 10,000 for household expenses, and use the rest for investments and interest.”

“Okay.”  Scootaloo bounced, impatiently wanting the encounter to be over.

“Secondly, Glemstone significantly undervalued your last sales.  They were uncommonly susceptible to enchantment and were thus worth quite a bit more than originally estimated.  Gringotts would be most interested in any more such gems you might acquire.”

“Okay, okay.”  Scootaloo bounced, while Sweetie was planning new tasks for her kitchen.

“Are there any questions?” Tricksno barked.

“No manager Tricksno,” the children all chorused, Weasley and filly alike.

“Very well, time is money. You may go now.”  The children filed out and followed Railrun to the lobby.  

“Are Goblins always soooooooo?” Ron started asking

“Blunt?” supplied George.

“Rude?” offered Fred

“Demanding?” was George’s turn

“Yes, pretty much.” Percy concluded.

“What just happened?” Ginny wondered out loud.

“We fly now!” Scootaloo demanded.

<->

And thus, the fillies and their Weasley allies returned to the Burrow.  The floo pot was refilled and the bag of powder, barely dented, was stowed away in a cupboard.  Scarcely an hour and a half had passed since Scootaloo had noticed the flying colts.  During the trip to Diagon Alley and back, Mrs. Weasley had spent the entire time upstairs doing chores, oblivious to the entire adventure.

Excitedly, the entourage marched back to the orchard and soon everyone was holding a new broom.

“Alright,” the twin claiming to be Fred addressed the girls of the group.  “It’s time to teach the four of you how t . . .”

“Yeeeeeeeahhhhhhhhhhhhh!  Awsome!!!”  A purple-haired streak rocketed into the air.  Percy eeped, and jumped to follow, keeping an eye on the supposedly first time flyer.

“All right,” George continued after a pause, “It’s time to teach the three . . .”  

Ginny quickly mounted her broom and kicked off airwards, to the amazement of the twins.  They watched her ascend, mouths ajar, as Ron elected himself to keep in reach of his sister, forgoing enjoying his new broom in favor of keeping her safe.

There was another pause.

“Two!” Fred boomed returned his attention to the remaining girls.  “We’re here to teach . . .”

Sensing a pattern, Apple Bloom copied Ginny’s mounting stance and tried leaping into the air.  She made it three feet up before somehow flipping upside down on her broom.  All at once, she came crashing back down to earth and tumbled for a couple yards.  Groaning she signaled that she was all right.

Expectantly, the twins focused their gaze on the remaining girl.

“I say we leave the bidding at two,” Sweetie Belle said seriously.

<->

The wind, it felt divine.  Better even than when she rode her scooter.  This is what it meant to be alive!

Gone was the envy she felt when she was forced to watch others of her kind from the ground.  Gone was the fear that she may never know the winds.  Gone was the sadness of being unworthy.  She was flying!  She was flying and that was all that mattered.  

She had been told that to fly was to be free.  That the soil was but a prison.  Later she had been told that she may never escape that prison.  

Sure, she had kept up appearances; she had kept up her hopes.  Yet always, that nagging doubt lurked.  Her wings might not grow to their full potential.  

Had her parents known?  Was that why she was alone in the world?

It didn’t matter.  Her path may not be the one of wings.  She had found another way.  She had felt the call, and, finally, she sped ever onward toward freedom.

<->

Percy couldn’t keep up.  He had the exact same type of broom and he simply couldn’t keep up.  His charge was faster, more agile, and seemingly void of any sense of self preservation.  She made the seekers on the house teams seem like they were riding training brooms by comparison.

Percy could only hover and watch.  Here was someone who wasn’t just good at flying; here was someone who was born for it.  

He felt more than saw a presence on his left and became aware that it was his youngest and only sister.  She was, apparently, taking to flying amazingly well and was captivated observing the display.  Beside her, Ron was watching the spectacle as well, with open admiration.

“Blimey,” Ron breathed, “she’s beautiful.”

Percy took his eyes off Scootaloo long enough to eye his brother for a few seconds.

Percy and his siblings could feel the joy radiating from the purple-haired dancer as she claimed the skies.

“You think she’ll teach me how to do that?” Ginny asked, the awe radiating from her voice.

“No,” Percy asserted, “definitely not.” He returned his attention to Scootaloo, his wand drawn, just in case she should falter.

<->

Sometime later, Mrs. Weasley walked the path to the orchard.  Most likely, her boys would be there, and she could have them collect their sister and her guests for lunch.  

It would probably be too much to hope for, that the boys had taken it on themselves to teach the girls how to fly.  They were more likely playing quidditch.  

She was, therefore, surprised when she came in view and saw that twins were in the process of untangling Apple Bloom from a cherry tree.  Sweetie Belle shakily hovered nearby as she watched the two extract the unlucky girl.  Somehow, each of them was covered in tree sap.

“Ah almost had it that time,” Apple Bloom was saying as she retrieved her ruined bow, impaled on a tree branch.

“If you say so,” one twin said as he hauled Apple Bloom and onto his broom.

“But only if by ‘it’ you mean,” the second twin said, recovering Apple Bloom’s broom from a higher branch.

“The tree.”  The first twin grimaced.

“But it would be arguable . . .”

“ . . . that the tree . . .”

“ . . . got you . . .”

“ . . . instead.”

“Oh, ha ha.”  Apple Bloom stuck her tongue out, then upon noticing Molly.  “Oh, hello”

Molly hurried over to the girl and started checking her over for injuries, “George, go collect everyone for lunch,” she said as she waved her wand around Apple Bloom.  A minute later she was satisfied.

Looking over, she noted all the children were present and that each held a broom.  Absently, she vanished the sap from the afflicted children and asked, “Where did all those brooms come from?”

“Quality Quidditch Supplies,” Sweetie Belle helpfully answered.  She was going to have to learn that trick with the sap.

Mrs. Weasley nodded; she wasn’t an enthusiast, but even she could see that there was a small fortune in brooms here.  Why, then, had Minerva requested that her family look after these girls until school started?  They apparently had means, and, surely, one of the more well-off families would have vigorously claimed the privilege of hosting them.  They must be muggle-born.

“Time to clean up for lunch,” Molly ordered, goading the children toward the burrow.  “Off with you now.”

It was a small army that marched to do battle with lunch.

<->

Humans ate chicken!  Scootaloo was appalled.  Sitting in front of her was a small pie filled with the remains of chickens.  She had eaten pork before, of course.  Ponies weren’t complete herbivores; they took meat from time to time, normally pork.  Heck, Apple Bloom’s family was the main supplier of pork products in Ponyville.  Then there was fish; many a times Scootaloo had supplemented her own diet by fishing.  Rarely, quarry eel or manticore made the menu.  Not often though, since they were just as likely to eat ponies as ponies were to eat them.  Admittedly, the balance was probably more in their favor.

Chicken, however, was not on the menu.  They were the suppliers of eggs.  The entire baking arts required the cooperation of chickens.  Yet here she was, about to consume their flesh.

Apple Bloom didn’t look bothered.  In fact, she was half done with her pie already.  Scootaloo wasn’t sure how she’d be able to look Fluttershy in the face again.

Sweetie Belle, on the other hand, was picking her way around the meat and politely eating the rest, consisting of vegetables and pie crust, seemingly ignoring the fact that the sauce was made of chicken.

Scootaloo hadn’t touched hers.  

Ron, sitting beside her, nudged her and asked, “Oi, you gonna eat that?”  He had already consumed his.  Scootaloo slid her pie over into his waiting hands.

“Not fond of chicken pot pie?” Percy asked, motioning to his brother who was devouring his second pie of the meal.

“We don’t eat chickens back home,” Scootaloo answered.  “It’s a bit of a shock.”

Percy glanced over to where Apple Bloom was giving Ron a run for his money as she, too, worked on her second pie.  He wasn’t aware of anyplace that didn’t use chicken as a staple.  “Are you more accustomed to beef then?”

Scootaloo tilted her head cutely and asked, “Beef?”

“You know.”  Scootaloo was half sure it was George who spoke.

“As in cows,” Fred finished.

Scootaloo emitted a sound half way between a scream and a squeak.  Apple Bloom froze, her fork halfway to her mouth and her eyes wide open.  Sweetie Belle passed out in a dead faint.

“That would be a ‘no’ then,” Ron observed, mouth half full.

“You murder cows?” Scootaloo managed to get out.      

“Of course not,” Fred shook his head as he watched Percy rush over to help Sweetie Belle.

“Do we look like butchers?” George queried.

“We buy our beef at the local shop, we do,” Fred finished.

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were not overly enthused by that answer.

“What’s the matter with eating cows?” Ginny asked

“It’s murder?” Apple Bloom suggested.

“They would need to have near human level intelligence for it to be considered murder, Apple Bloom,” Percy corrected as he lifted Sweetie Belle in his arms, “it’s actually against the law to eat anything that can beg for its life.”

“Ain’t cows smart enough?” Apple Bloom asked.

Percy gave her a bewildered look and lugged Sweetie Belle into the living room.  Depositing the girl on the couch, he asked, “Just how smart do you think cows are?”

“Why?” Scootaloo asked.  “How smart do you think cows are?”

“About as smart as a dog?” Fred suggested.

Apple Bloom looked at him and blinked, “Ah reckon, your cows ain’t the same as the ones I know.”

It took a few minutes for Sweetie Belle to wake up and a few more for the other fillies to explain the difference in cows to her.  She was finally, if not comfortable with, at least accepting of the idea.  Fitting in would be harder than they first thought, but at least it was apparent that humans considered it important not to eat intelligent animals.  The three hadn’t seen any other limits to humans’ eating habits, though.

“Where’s Mum?” Ron asked, realizing he hadn’t seen their mother since the start of lunch.

<->

At the teachers’ table in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, another conversation was taking place.  

“You sent the extra-dimensional ponies to the Weasley house so they wouldn’t wander into muggle London?” Severus asked, appalled.  “The same house currently occupied by the Weasley twins?”

“Arthur and Molly were happy to take care of three more children for a couple days,” Minerva defended.  “It will do them good to get used to being around children their own age before throwing them in with an entire school’s worth.”

“I cannot imagine what horrors those three will be subjected too, being the objects of attention for the Weasley twins,” Severus said.  “I was under the impression that they were not to be unduly antagonized.”

“Relax, Serverus,” Albus soothed, putting down his fork to address the table.  “I’m sure that they will all get along and find something they have in common.”

Professor Snape’s eyes widened slightly, “While I understand you said that in hopes of allaying my concerns, I am finding that concept has the entirely opposite effect.”

Filius thought about it for a second and said, “I hate to say it, but I’m going to have to agree with Severus on this one.”

Pomona chuckled, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.  “Come now, what could possibly go wrong?”

<->

“So, you dabble with potions . . .”

“ . . . and you want to compare notes?”

“Uh, huh.  Ah want to see if there are any techniques to learn before school.  Ah might even be able to teach you ‘uns a trick or two.”

Ron looked up from where, with Ginny’s help, he was teaching Sweetie Belle how to play chess.  He wasn’t going anywhere near academics until school started.

Scootaloo shook her head as Apple Bloom and the twins disappeared up the stairs.  Let them have their potions.  Right now, she was hearing the call of the sky, and she was going to answer.
> Chapter 5: Continuing to Fit in
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Signs of rain threatened the afternoon.  The ozone was rising, and it didn’t take a pegasus to know that a storm was coming.  Scootaloo scanned the horizon from where she perched on her broom.  The storm clouds were readily visible, but she could see no pony directing them.  This felt like a storm coming from the Everfree.  That couldn’t be good.  She hadn’t been in the air for ten minutes yet, and she was going to have to cut her outing short.  She wasn’t on the weather team and wasn’t about to fly during a storm at this point in time.

Reluctantly, Scootaloo approached the Burrow.  She wouldn’t be exploring the limits of her new broom anymore today.  It was a pity, but she could still be with her friends.  She was enjoying her time as a human.  It was almost unthinkable that just three days ago she hadn’t even heard of one.  Her adjustment to her new skin was almost absolutely complete in such a short period of time.

As she landed, she marveled at how her fingers grasped the broom handle.  It was so effortless, and she could empathize with Spike’s pride over his claws.  The awareness of all the things she had been doing with her fingers hit her suddenly.  She supposed that the pendants had been teaching them habits as well as changing their forms.  Humans seemed to do everything with their fingers.  At that point, another realization hit her.  They did everything with their fingers.

Scootaloo entered the Weasleys’ family room, acutely aware of her surroundings.  It was just as cluttered and lived-in as when she had left just ten minutes ago.  The light from outside was dimming as the storm approached, although the chess players didn’t seem to notice.  Ginny was moving a piece on the board for her and Sweetie’s turn; she used her fingers.  Ron barely paused before taking his turn; he used his fingers as well.

Scootaloo unshrunk her trunk to stow her broom and retrieve some writing supplies.  As casually as she could, she wandered over to the game in progress.  Of course, that meant everyone was looking at her suspiciously by the time she got there.  Scootaloo was less subtle than the proverbial brick upside the head.

“Ginny,” she said, handing her the paper and quill, “would you mind writing down something for me?”

Confused, Ginny took the proffered paper and said, “What do you want me to write?”

“I don’t know, anything that comes to mind.”

Ginny thought for a few seconds then wrote, “Chudley Cannons are the worst.”  She wrote using her fingers.  

Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened as she realized what Scootaloo was doing.  Horsefeathers!  Had they notic-

“Will that do?” Ginny asked.  “I hope you didn’t want me to use my mouth like you did.”

Yup, they noticed.

Ron saw what Ginny had written and started to defend the Cannons loudly.  To which, Ginny gladly egged him on by stating facts about their record.

There was a flash of green and Molly stepped out of the fireplace.  “Ron!  Ginny!  Stop your bickering this instant!”

“But Mum!” Ron complained while Ginny just wore a smug look, “Ginny was bad mouthing the Cannons!”

“Ron,” was said in Molly’s warning voice.  Ron shut up and pouted.  As if on cue, the first thunderclap could be heard from outside.

Glancing out the window, Molly said, “I was half way convinced you lot would be outside trying to play Quidditch in the rain.  Good to see you all had enough sense to come in before you got wet.”

“They wouldn’t call a professional match on account of rain,” Ron muttered, crossing his arms.

“Where’d you go, Mum?” Ginny asked at the same time.

“The girls had some purchases that needed pick up from Diagon Alley.”  Molly patted her skirt pocket while glaring at Ron.  “Go and fetch Apple Bloom, and we’ll get this all sorted away.  It would be best if we did this in Ginny’s room.”

Molly led the two fillies up the stairs.  On the next floor was a small, but bright, room that overlooked the orchard.  It was well-kept and lacked the clutter associated with the downstairs living area.

“In here, dears,” Molly gestured, “and we’ll be needing those trunks of yours.”  Seeing that there wouldn’t be enough room to accommodate the upcoming task, Molly took a minute to wave her wand and intone some strange words.  The room then, for lack of a better word, grew out in every direction.  Soon, there was four times more space to work with than they started with. Nodding to herself with satisfaction, Molly finished just as Apple Bloom and Ginny entered the room.

“Place your trunks over there and I’ll unshrink your clothes.”  Mrs. Weasley then reached into her pocket and retrieved a great number of shrunk shopping parcels.  “You’ve got quite a bit to sort through here.”  

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo groaned as Sweetie Belle and Ginny clapped in glee. They then proceeded to spend the afternoon sorting and packing clothes.  All thoughts of writing styles were forgotten for the time being.  Apple Bloom was even pleasantly surprised to find a box full of replacement bows.

<->

Ginny’s day had been wonderful, without even taking the brooms into the reckoning; she had made three new friends.  When most of her socializing was with her brothers, with only a few visits to the Lovegoods, the experience was something to be cherished.  True, they all seemed less feminine than Mum insisted was proper for young ladies, but Ginny was beginning to get the impression that she didn’t particularly care to be a proper young lady anyway.  She wanted to follow her brothers onto the Quidditch field.  She wanted to wrestle dragons with Charlie.  She wanted to explore dusty tombs with Bill.  She didn’t want to study all day like her brother Percy, though.

Her role models were all male.  This conflicted with her mother, who had been trying to get her interested in keeping house.  Repeatedly, Molly stated that taking care of a family was a noble undertaking, emphasizing her point by showing Ginny the common charms for house care and teaching her how to prepare meals.  Ginny was finding this was not what she wanted.  

Meeting her family’s houseguests had introduced her to several revolutionary ideas.  The first shock was that not all girls were taught how to cook.  While the girls were sorting clothes, it had come to light that Scootaloo didn’t know much more about cooking than throwing a can of soup over a fire.  Apple Bloom, by contrast, said she was well-accustomed to helping her older sister and grandmother in the kitchen.  All the while, she gave the impression that cooking was something she did and maybe even enjoyed, but was not something that defined her.

When Ginny had asked after Sweetie Belle’s cooking experience, Apple Bloom had insisted that Ginny really didn’t want to know and that Sweetie Belle couldn’t cook.

Sweetie Belle had pouted at this but said nothing.

Ginny’s second surprise came in the form of roughhousing.  Whatever Sweetie Belle had said to incite didn’t register to Ginny, but the result was Scootaloo jumping Sweetie Belle.  After a few seconds of them rolling around on the floor, Apple Bloom joined in.  That Apple Bloom was physically the strongest, and most capable, wrestler was hastily evident, as she soon had both of the other two collectively pinned and was admonishing them to behave since they were guests.

Ginny could not imagine such a scene with her and Luna.  Wrestling was something the boys did when Mum wasn’t looking.  It definitely did not make the list of activities for proper young ladies.

Wonderment number three was the sheer number of other children they mentioned in passing.  Ginny counted twelve different individuals, all with names as weird as the three girls’.  All names were said to belong to one classmate or another, children their age.

This was a stark contrast to Ginny’s existence.  Ginny wasn’t sure if she knew twelve children, if you didn’t count her brothers.  She was beginning to comprehend the isolation enforced upon her by the wizarding world’s ideology, even if she wouldn’t have put it in those terms.

Still, meeting and socializing with three new individuals her own age was an exhilaratingly novel experience, so much so that Ginny didn’t recognize that it should have been routine.  Any student of human nature could have pointed out how debilitating it was to isolate wizardly children.  They would point out that this was why the majority were so misinformed about the rest of the world and not curious enough to go look.  Unfortunately, this dealt with a subset of muggle science, and everyone knows that wizards have no use for muggle science.  The end result was another generation stifled and kept ignorant by the arrogance and fears of their elders.

Regardless, Ginny’s day had been wonderful.

<->

Supper at the Weasleys’ was a large family affair; everyone was present, including Mr. Weasley, who had returned as cheerfully as he had left.  The table groaned under the weight of the meal as everyone sat.  

Ginny was relating to all that Scootaloo had a pretty new orange blouse, which was surprisingly lovely when matched with her purple hair.  All of the Weasley boys, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo were doing their best to simultaneously tune her out and silently beg Sweetie Belle to stop encouraging her.

There was a mutual unvoiced consent among the children that brooms were not to be brought up as a topic for conversation due to the nature of their acquisition.  

“Professor McGonagall tells me that you are foreigners,” Mr. Weasley said after swallowing a bite, “coming to Britain for a Hogwarts education.”  

The girls nodded their heads; Apple Bloom didn’t even bother to stop eating.

“By your accents,” Molly observed, “I’d imagine you’re from America.”

This got blank looks from Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle.

“Okay,” Scootaloo said as Apple Bloom continued eating.

Ron was bewildered.  Normally he’d have the king’s ration of peas, one of his favorite vegetables.  None of his brothers or sister cared much for them, so after his Mum and Pop took their share he could claim the rest of the bowl as his own.  This time, he swore he only blinked, and the bowl was almost empty.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley watched her family and her guests enjoy her efforts.  It warmed her heart to see her cooking being appreciated.  Molly did witness that the girls had a strange mixture of eating habits, though.  At one end of the spectrum was Scootaloo.  She ate with almost no restraint, using her fingers as much as she used her fork or spoon.  Some eating etiquette would need to be imparted on her.  Again, it was a pity they’d only be staying there for a couple of days.

Nearby, Apple Bloom was giving Ron a competition on who could eat the most, yet, at the same time, she ate with a certain practiced grace and precision that spoke of a big family and big meals.  If her hair had been just been a few shades less bright, you could easily have mistaken her as one of Molly’s own.

Sweetie Belle, on the other hand, ate with a distinct daintiness.  She took small bites and chewed her food thoroughly.  Mrs. Weasley could imagine she was used to wiping her mouth on a napkin after every other mouthful.

Nevertheless, one thing was universally lacking for all three of them, more so Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle than Apple Bloom, but still noticeable.  On each plate lay an almost unheard of treat in the Weasley household, a slice of Beef Wellington, rare and juicy, paid for by the small stipend Minerva had provided as show of thanks for taking in the children.

Clearing her throat, Mrs. Weasley laid down the law.  “Girls, if you want dessert you will have to eat your meat.”  Three sets of eyes focused on her questioningly, so she clarified, “If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding.  How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?”

“We’re good without pudding,” Sweetie Belle offered, eyeing the meat on her plate with distrust.  Scootaloo nodded her head in agreement while Apple Bloom tentatively poked her serving with her fork before shrugging and making her meat disappear.

“Dear,” Molly managed to place her hands on her hips even though she was still sitting, “you’re so small.  You need to eat your meat to grow up big and strong.”

“Mum,” Ginny interrupted, “they don’t seem to eat much meat where they come from.  The chicken from lunch was a chore for them.”

“Perhaps,” Molly said, not backing down, “but it would be a waste of a nice healthy meal.  A meal that will do them some amount of good, at that.”

Rarity had said the exact same thing about eating her hay, making her big and strong.  That insight made Sweetie Belle immediately recognize her position as a losing argument.  Sighing, she took a nibble of the offending substance and chewed.  Dang, that was genuinely rather appetizing.

Scootaloo was still unconvinced.  “What if I want to be small and quick instead?”

Molly gave her a look.  It was that look that any mother can give.  The look doesn’t have an explicit name or anything, but anyone with a mother knows “that look”.  Scootaloo, however, wasn’t accustomed to “that look” and found she desperately didn’t want to be the recipient of said look.  It looked like Scootaloo would be getting her pudding after all.

<->

After supper, Apple Bloom again vanished up the stairs with the twins.  Ron immediately challenged Sweetie Belle and Ginny to chess once more.  

This left Scootaloo to lie down on the floor next to the game and do some drawing.  She decided to use her fingers and see what she could make of drawing Diagon Alley.  The level of control she found she had was decidedly superior to anything she had experienced before.  One more time she found herself empathizing with Spike and his claws.  She imagined she could now do things she once would have had to call a unicorn for.  This new form of hers had uses other than just fitting in with her current environment.

Sweetie Belle, meanwhile, had discovered that chess was played with the exact same rules as back in Equestria.  The only difference was a certain aspect of elevated violence.  With morbid fascination, she watched Ron’s knight lop the head off a pawn and drag the body off the board.  Only the knowledge that the pawn would be put back together unharmed for the next game stopped her from shrieking in horror.

Still, it was enough to distract away from the reality that Ron was systematically destroying her and Ginny’s best efforts.

By and by time passed, and it came to the hour to get ready for bed.  Molly ordered the children to their rooms for the night, stating that she would be up in a bit to transform a bed for the girls.  The offer was politely declined as the girls stated that they had beds inside their trunks.  

Once in Ginny’s room, Apple Bloom set her trunk in the corner and popped the lid.  She quickly disappeared inside, followed closely by Scootaloo and then Sweetie Belle.  

“Come on Ginny,” Sweetie Belle called as she entered.  “We’ve time for a bath before bed.”

Intrigued, Ginny followed them into Apple Bloom’s trunk and found herself in a well-appointed sitting room.  It was colored in warm yellows and browns and had a small unlit fireplace.  The atmosphere that it oozed was that akin to hunting lodge.  This quality was enforced by a small attached kitchen with a cold cupboard and stove, both of which would not have been out of place in a cabin.  There were two doors leading to different rooms, and, through the open one, Sweetie Belle beckoned for her to follow.

The bathroom was dominated by a large white tub sunk into the floor.  It was large enough for four adults, let alone four little girls.  Apple Bloom was already filling it with steaming water.

“Not so hot!” Scootaloo complained as she began removing her clothes.  Apple Bloom snorted and adjusted the water temperature.

Ginny copied the fillies and was in the tub with them in a matter of minutes.  Then the strangest thing happened.  Scootaloo started washing Sweetie Belle, who started washing Apple Bloom, who started washing Ginny.  They just picked up washcloths and soap and went to work without so much as a by your leave.

With a start, Ginny realized that Scootaloo was looking at her expectantly.  Hastily retrieving another washcloth, Ginny got to work as well.  

“We are going to try that lilac shampoo tonight,” Sweetie Belle commanded as she worked on Apple Blooms back.  “Then you’re going to start a conditioning regimen.”

“Shouldn’t have we done exercises before taking a bath?” Apple Bloom admonished, not wanting to have wasted the effort of getting clean.

It turned out that Sweetie Belle was talking about sitting in the tub with slimy stuff in their hair.  It got rinsed out eventually but the process didn’t really count as exercise.

After their bath, the girls patted each other dry with big, fluffy yellow towels.  Ginny marveled at how they worked seamlessly yet absently on each other.  They didn’t even seem to be conscious of their own actions as Scootaloo excitedly led a conversation on flying the next day.  Was this what it was like to have sisters?  

As soon as they were dry, Scootaloo led the way into the adjacent bedroom.  There was only one bed inside, but it was more than large enough for all four.  The fillies climbed into the bed and Apple Bloom motioned for Ginny to follow.

By this time, Ginny was only mildly surprised that they were doing this naked, but since they were all girls it didn’t matter. She clamored in, on the end next to Scootaloo.

“Night girls,” Apple Bloom announced.  Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo echoed her, and a second later, so did Ginny.

There were a few seconds of silence then Sweetie Belle asked, “Doesn’t anypony know how to turn off the light?”

“Anypony?” Ginny thought as she reached over to the nightstand and triggered the room’s lights.

Ginny curled up to Scootaloo as she considered her day.  Three girls she barely knew had accepted her without question.  They had even bought her a broom.  When they were buying their own brooms, Apple Bloom had specifically stated that Ginny was to get one too.  Her mother had taught her, as a matter of pride, not to accept charity, but it was a Nimbus 2000.  Scootaloo had bought it and seven others without even blinking.  The day had been surreal.  

Ginny quickly fell asleep, dreaming of riding her new broom given to her by her new friends.

Scootaloo felt Ginny snuggle up closer to her as she considered her day.  She had flown!  If nothing else came from this quest that Discord had helped them start, she had flown.  The eating of meat, the scary goblin, the practice drawing with her fingers, they all paled before the fact that she had taken to the air under her own power.

Smiling Scootaloo fell asleep, dreaming of riding her new broom.

Sweetie Belle lay in the comfy bed and considered her day.  She was currently a human.  Humans ate meat.  Was it worth it to learn magic?  They had said they don’t eat intelligent prey.  But they eat beef.  Beef was cow.  She knew several cows back home.  True it was hard to call them intelligent; heck, a snake could spook them into a stampede.  But the meat at dinner had been tasty.  What exactly did that say about her?

Sweetie Belle fell asleep, dreaming of being a human, hiding in the tall grass.  As she parted the blades before her, she spied an innocent cow munching on landscape.  Sweetie smiled as she approached.  In her hands were a fork and a knife.

Apple Bloom burrowed under the blankets and thought that day had been fun.  She quickly fell asleep, not wanting to waste her down time thinking.  She dreamt of apples.

<->

Ginny woke up.  There was someone in bed with her! Panicking, she opened her eyes and got a face full of purple hair.  She went stiff as the memories of where she was slowly penetrated her sleep-addled mind.  Relaxing, she smiled in contentment and fell back to sleep.

Sweetie Belle listened to Ginny’s breathing even out as the redhead returned to sleep.  She hadn’t meant to wake the Weasley as she had climbed over her on the way out of bed.  It was early, but Sweetie suspected that Mrs. Weasley would be starting on breakfast soon.  Sweetie Belle was going to offer her assistance.  After all, wasn’t that the polite thing to do as a guest?

Out of the trunk she climbed as quietly as possible.  She closed the lid and started padding over to Ginny’s bedroom door.  She had her hand on the door knob when she remembered that humans always wear clothes.  Retreating back into the room, she proceeded to dress herself from the contents of her own trunk. Eventually, they would have to figure out how humans washed their clothes.  That was a riddle for another time.  Now was the time to cook!

<->

Mr. Weasley was getting ready for work.  Specifically, he was shaving, running his wand over his chin to remove the stubble.  That’s when he smelled it -- SMOKE!  He smelled smoke!  It was too early for the twins to be messing with potions in their room.  No, this was the distinct smell of something burning!

Arthur dashed down the stairs, pausing briefly at each level to verify the smoke wasn’t coming from it.  In short order, he was on the ground floor.  There was soot coming from the kitchen, but it looked like Molly had already taken care of the cause.  She was currently hugging a crying Sweetie Belle.

It appeared that Sweetie Belle had offered to help cook breakfast, an offer Molly had been only too glad to accept.  There had been an unforeseeable complication with the hash browns, forcing Molly to vanish them.  While it was no great loss, Sweetie Belle was taking the failure rather harshly.

“There, there, dear.”  Molly ran her hand through Sweetie’s mauve and pink hair.  “It’s only some potatoes.  We have plenty.  Let’s give it another try, shall we?”

There were to be hash browns for breakfast; they were misshapen, runny, unevenly cooked, and a funny color, but there were hash browns for breakfast.

<->

Once again, the Weasley clan gathered to break their fast around the large oaken table.  There was an ambience of excitement, as the children had one more day of freedom before school began.  Food disappeared rapidly as they rushed to go about their day.  

“What are your plans for today?” Mr. Weasley asked of the gathering.

“Quidditch,” one twin said.

“Of course.” said the other

“But first,”

“We need to teach Apple Bloom”

“How to miss”

“Trees,” both of them completed together.

It’s doubtful Apple Bloom heard them as she was engaged in yet another match with Ron.  One that Ron was clearly winning as he had avoided the hash browns due to not recognizing them as his mother’s cooking.  Apple Bloom, before she took her first bite, had failed to recognize them as Sweetie’s.

“You need to be careful with that.”  Arthur fixed the twins with a smile.  “Make sure Percy is present.”

The twins nodded their acceptance.  “Yes father,” they acknowledged.

<->

They had barely reached the orchard when Scootaloo exploded into the air.  None thought she’d be joining them soon.  Instead they concentrated on bringing Apple Bloom up to speed.  

Their first attempt ended with Apple Bloom being deposited into the pond.  The irked frogs croaked their annoyance at the intrusion.

The second attempt reacquainted Apple Bloom with the cherry tree.  Somehow, she had managed to avoid being covered in sap.

The third left a furrow in the ground two yards long.  The fourth and fifth left Apple Bloom rather embarrassed.  

However, nopony would ever accuse any member of the CMC of being a quitter.  There were several other things they might be called.  Some things that sounded suspiciously like “rambunctious”, or “menace” or maybe even “what in Celestia’s name was that?”, but never quitters . . . no, definitely never quitters.

Somewhere around the seventeenth endeavor, Apple Bloom managed some semblance of control.  She still wobbled awkwardly, but at least she wasn’t crashing.  It was almost as if the broom was telling her that she belonged on the ground as she attempted to whip it into submission.

“That has got to have been,”

“The most eventful”

“And painful”

“Inaugural flying undertaking”

“Since Merlin,” was the commentary offered upon her ‘success’.

Ron then introduced her to a ball, called a quaffle, by tossing it to her.  This resulted in her losing control and taking another dip in the pond.  

It was then agreed that Quidditch was to be put on hold until she had enough control not to be a menace to herself or others.

In the meantime, Sweetie Belle had become passingly familiar with flying.  A phrase she would not have ever thought applying to herself before.  She and Ginny darted among the trees in an impromptu game of tag, with Ginny being the noticeably better flyer of the two.

As for Scootaloo, she spent the morning high above the others, dancing.  Percy, in his role of responsible older sibling, kept watch.
> Chapter 6: Hidden Achievement Obtained
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Molly Weasley welcomed her guest with a warm smile.  He had just arrived and was in the process vanishing the dust from his bright lilac robes.  Molly had been surprised when he had flooed and requested to come through.  After all, with the term starting the next day, she hadn’t thought the headmaster would be making house calls.

“Ah, Molly.”  Albus Dumbledore had his trademark twinkle in his eyes as he surveyed the Weasleys’ abode.  “So good to see you.  Thank you for allowing me to visit.”

‘You are welcome anytime, Albus,” Molly replied.  “Would you care for a spot of tea?”

“Thank you for your kind offer.”  Albus gave a pleased smile.  “However, I must confess I’m here to indulge in curiosity, not refreshment.  Minerva tells me that you have been so kind as to look after three special students at her request.  I find that I must interview them before the term, just a bit of a precaution.”

“Precaution?” Molly scrunched her nose slightly.  “Is there something amiss?”

“I think not,” Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully, “but still, an examination is in order.”

Molly studied the old man for a few seconds.  “The children are all out flying at the orchard,” she finally said.

“Shall we then?”  Albus gestured for Molly to lead, and they then made their way in the direction of the orchard.  Well before they reached their destination, they spied one of the children flying preposterous patterns high in the air.  A few seconds of observation showed purple hair, the color Minerva had said the winged pony had possessed.  Dumbledore realized he could not allow her to be part of her house’s quidditch team, whichever house that may be.

Molly frowned at the seemingly reckless display.

“Most impressive.” Albus commented, “Her natural talent is shining through and I see young Percy is most vigilant, prepared to catch her if she falls.”

Soon, they came into the orchard and beheld the remaining children shouting words of encouragement as they circled Apple Bloom, who was unintentionally demonstrating the ability to fly upside down.    

“Children!” Molly called.  “Come on down!  Professor Dumbledore would like a word!”

In ones and twos, the children obeyed.  Soon they were gathered in front of the two adults.

Before the CMC was the oldest human they had met as of yet.  Their first thought was that with his beard, he could easily have the title “the bearded”.  Their second was that he was wearing an outrageously colorful dress.  Yes, the humans called them robes, but the girls knew a dress when they saw one, even if it weren’t a proper pony dress.

“Ron.  Ginevra.  Apple Bloom.  Sweetie Belle.  Scootaloo.”  Molly gestured to each child in turn.  “This is Professor Dumbledore.  He will be your headmaster at Hogwarts.  And, of course, Professor, you know Percy and the twins already.”  

Percy led a round of greetings.  

“I thought you said Ginny wasn’t going to Hogwarts with us?” Sweetie Belle asked, catching the reference that this was to be Ginny’s headmaster also.

“She’s a year too young to be ready this year,” Molly corrected.  “She’ll be joining you next year.”

“There’s an age limit?”  Apple Bloom tilted her head slightly at the news.

“Indeed,” Albus agreed, as he discreetly observed the reactions of the ponies, “although it has more to do with one’s magical core being mature enough to handle training than one’s physical age.”

“So, she could go earlier if she matures her core?” Scootaloo continued the inquisition.

Dumbledore was intrigued.  It had been less than two days, yet these ponies had seemingly accepted young Ginevra fully into their confidence.  Or perhaps “herd” would be a better description.  He chose his next words carefully.

“From what I have observed from her flying abilities, her core is already mature enough.”  There was a hint of grandfatherly pride in his voice.  “With signed permission, I see no reason why she could not start tomorrow with her brother.”

“Albus!” Molly was aghast, as well as proud of her daughter.  “While I’m flattered you think Ginny could be schooled early, it’s simply not in our budget this year.”

At the insight, the crusaders quickly huddled together for a conference.  Rapidly they exchanged hushed whispers and quickly came to an agreement.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle rushed to stand next to the two grownups at such an angle that it forced them to look away from the rest of the children.

“We’ll cover Ginny’s tuition so she can go early,” Apple Bloom announced.

Molly was rendered speechless for all of a minute. Dumbledore, however, continued his observations.  Either these children didn’t realize the value of a galleon or they had access to resources beyond what he had guessed.  Regardless, they were inclined to use their money for the benefit of one they had known for a very short time.  Even though he was concentrating on the two in front of him, he did not miss perceiving Scootaloo as she grabbed Percy and Ginny and then dragged them toward the Burrow.

Gradually, Molly regained her composure and smoothed the front of her dress.  “That’s very generous of you girls, but I don’t think you understand how much an education costs.  We simply could not accept such charity.”

“It’s not charity,” Sweetie Belle insisted.  “Discord gave us those gems for tuition and supplies.  We got what we needed for the year, so there’s more tuition and supplies to go around.”

Apple Bloom nodded her head.  “Besides, the best way to spend money is on friends an’ family.”

Though flustered, Molly was having none of it.  “I’m sure Discord only had you in mind when he gave you tuition money.  I’m sure he didn’t envision paying for every student in the school.”

“Actually. . .”  Sweetie Belle rubbed her chin with her hand, a gesture that she did subconsciously.  “It’s kinda hard to tell with him.  One thing’s for sure; if it’s surprising and unexpected, he’d defiantly be all for it.”

Molly’s hands found her hips.  “Girls, you’ve known us less than a week.  I can’t have you spending that kind of money so haphazardly.”

Sweetie Belle shrugged.  “It’s just some gems; my sister has loads more.  Heck, we got ten more just sitting in the vault.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at this comment.  The casual dismissal of gems spoke volumes.  Either these three came from extremely wealthy families or he was going to have to explain supply and demand to them -- that, and implore them to limit the number of gems they introduce into the economy.  He rather suspected it was the second option.

Molly was flabbergasted.  These girls simply didn’t grasp the immensity of what they were offering.  Just because they had the funds to throw around for a bunch of expensive brooms didn’t mean they should just squander money on someone they had just met the day before.  Instinctively, Molly realized it wasn’t pity that motivated the girls; they honestly just wanted Ginny to join them, but it was an offer she couldn’t morally accept.

“Ginny will be with you at Hogwarts next year,” Molly stated firmly.  “She can wait until then.”

“Waiting a year while everypony else goes off to school is no fun.”  Sweetie Belle pouted, displaying a devastating pair of puppy eyes.

“’Sides,” Apple Bloom advised pointing behind the adults, “Scootaloo has already taken her to get her supplies.  Thar’s no reason to make her wait a year to use ‘em.”

Taken aback and missing the “everypony” comment, Molly pivoted on the spot for confirmation.  Sure enough, there were children missing from where she had last seen them.  She parted her lips to protest but was interrupted.

“Well now,” Albus Dumbledore chuckled and brandished his wand.  “Now that that’s settled.  Expecto Patronum.”  Promptly, there was a bright figure before him.  “Message to Minerva,” Dumbledore talked directly to his conjuration, “if you would, please prepare the paperwork for early admissions.  It would appear that the youngest Weasley shall be joining us this year.”

All of the remaining Weasley boys and the two remaining ponies leaned in for a closer look.

“Aw, it looks like Philomena,” Sweetie Belle cooed just before the bird of light vanished.

Clearly satisfied, Dumbledore turned to Mrs. Weasley and said, “I do believe tea would be welcome after all.  That is, if the offer is still open.”

Molly absently nodded her head, stunned into acceptance.  “I should head to Diagon Alley to keep an eye on them.”

“I am sure Percy has the situation well in hand,” Dumbledore responded with warmth as he guided Molly in the direction of her own house.  “He will be a prefect this year, after all.”

Dumbledore was feeling smug.  Much enlightenment had been gained in a short amount of time.  Most importantly, it seemed Sweetie Belle had indeed run from Minerva’s patronus because it was a cat and not due to the nature of the spell itself.  This, coupled with them recognizing the form of a phoenix and being familiar enough to name one personally, spoke volumes toward their acceptability at Hogwarts, as did their swift and thorough inclusion of young Miss Weasley.  Such a happenstance was much too favorable to be put at risk by making the girl wait until next year before coming to Hogwarts.  Exceptions could easily be made.

Yes, much enlightenment had been gained in a short amount of time, all of it good.

<->

Percy stood in the Leaky Cauldron’s courtyard with Scootaloo and his sister.  He wasn’t sure why he had let Scootaloo drag him back through the floo system.  

“Here.”  Scootaloo took his hand and poured money from her purse into it.  “You get her books and supplies, we’ll get her trunk, robes and wand.”

“I’m not sure,” Percy began.

“We don’t have time for you not to be sure.”  Scootaloo stamped a foot as she tapped her wand on the bricks to access the alley.  “We only have one afternoon to make this happen.”

“Scootaloo, we can’t possibly accept,” Percy began again only to realize he was talking to empty air.  Sighing, he entered the alley for the second time in as many days, on the whim of the small purple-haired girl.  “Mum is not going to like this,” he thought.

Meanwhile, Scootaloo was dragging Ginny down the street.  She skidded to a stop in front of the trunk store and rushed in.

Dylan looked up in time to see one of his new favorite customers make her appearance with what appeared to be a young Weasley in tow.  “Did you come to get your kitchen fixed as well?” he asked merrily.

Scootaloo stopped in her tracks and a look of dismay crossed her features.  “You fixed Sweetie Belle’s kitchen?”

Dylan nodded.  “Did she really do that with orange juice?”

Scootaloo’s face met her palm and she said, “You should see her try and boil eggs.”

Dylan contemplated this while Scootaloo regained her composure and the Weasley looked on in shock.  “I’d pay good money to see how Professor Snape reacts to her being in his class,” he said.

“You’re the second to say that.”  Scootaloo breathed in.  “Anyway we need another trunk like ours in a hurry because school starts tomorrow so if you could get one ready we’ll pick it up in a bit but we have a lot of other things to get first fast so we’ll be back okay bye.”

Dylan blinked as the girls hurried out of his shop.  Scootaloo’s words had come so fast that he could not keep up.  He was pretty sure he just got one last trunk order for the school year.

Ginny was still following Scootaloo in a daze when they entered Ollivander’s shop.  

“Ah, Miss Aloo, back so soon?”  Ollivander appeared from the back of his shop.  “I sincerely hope there’s nothing wrong with your wand.”  He adjusted his gaze.  “And a Weasley.  I was expecting another one this year, but it seems I have the youngest before me instead.”

“Ron didn’t get his wand yet?” Scootaloo asked in confusion.

“He has to use Charlie’s old wand,” Ginny supplied.

“12 inches ash with a unicorn hair, I see.  A good and proper wand, but having young Ronald use it, that is not a good thing.”  Ollivander frowned as he circled Ginny examining her.  “Every wizard should have his or her own wand.  Your brother will not be getting the best results from a hand me down.”

“Ginny here is going to school early,” Scootaloo interrupted as she schemed on getting Ron in the wand shop before school started.  “She needs her wand.”

“I see.”  A tape measure put in an appearance and began to accost Ginny.  “Shall we get started then?”

In short order, the two girls left the shop with Ginny in possession of a new yew wand and a holster.

“All that’s left is boring robes and we’re done,” Scootaloo all but cheered.

“Why are you doing this?” Ginny asked, pulling Scootaloo short.  She was finding her luck too good to be true, and even though she was young, she was starting to worry over the other shoe.

“Doing what?”  Scootaloo tugged on Ginny to get her to hurry, but the Weasley stood firm.

“Buying all this for me.  Paying for my school.”

Scootaloo hopped from one foot to the other in impatience.  “It’s what friends do for each other.  Besides, Discord, provided the way for us to go to school; it would be selfish of us not to share.”

Friends?  Ginny wasn’t aware that you made friends that quickly.

With another tug, they were off again to Madam Malkin’s, where they found they were the only customers.  Everyone else had finished their shopping much earlier.  

Ginny was in the middle of being measured when Percy entered.  He didn’t appear to be carrying anything, so Scootaloo eyed him suspiciously.

Percy started handing her the change and said, “The shopkeepers where happy to shrink the parcels for me.  Saved me the trouble of lugging them all around.”

Scootaloo accepted the explanation and went back to being bored watching the clothing expert.

Percy waited in silence a few minutes before asking, “Are you sure about this?”

Scootaloo looked at him questioningly.

“This is a lot of kindness and generosity toward strangers,” Percy prompted.

“You’re not strangers anymore,” Scootaloo explained.  “Besides, Sweetie Belle’s older sister is the Element of Generosity.  It kind of runs in the family.”

Percy was perplexed by this answer, but Scootaloo wasn’t finished.

“Besides,” she said, “I’m sure this will earn us side quest points.”

Percy decided to keep quiet.  Brooms one day, school supplies for his sister the next, all without any sense of “I’m giving you charity”, it felt more like a friend offering to buy the next round of butterbeer.  Confused, he watched his sister receive her robes.

<->

After adults had left, the remaining children congregated under a tree.  They were going to fly more, but there were things to be discussed first.

“Just like that, you're gonna pay for Ginny’s school?” Ron had the least tact and the biggest mouth.

“Yeah.” Apple Bloom agreed.  “You don’t want to make her wait when she don’t have ta, do you?”

“I think, what our dear brother is trying to say,” George clarified.

“Is that even though we are incredibly grateful,” Fred continued.

“You have been throwing around money.”

“As if it were less valuable.”

“Than water,” they finished together.

“It’s not our fault that the bank was willing to give us a whole lot of bits for a few gems.”  Sweetie Belle shrugged.  “We’ve got more than we can use, so why not share?”

Apple Bloom nodded in agreement as she absently plucked a wildflower, popping it in her mouth to chew on.  “Bleah!”  She spat out her snack.  “Hehe, got a rotten one.”

“They look delicious enough.”  Sweetie Belle sampled one herself.  “Bleah” was heard once more.

“If you’re going for inconspicuous,” one twin noted.

“You’re failing miserably.” the other concurred.

“Who in their right mind eats flowers?” Ron tactfully added.

“Um, everyday normal humans?” Sweetie suggested.

The twins shared a quick look.  “So, you’re not human.”

“We’re cool with that.”

“But we strenuously recommend.”

“You don’t get sorted into Slytherin.”

“Awesome!  What are you?” Ron excitedly demanded.

Apple Bloom shrugged, not even considering she shouldn’t answer.  “We’re ponies.”

“Right.  Go on and pull the other one.”  Ron lost his excitement.

She didn’t understand what Ron had just said, but she understood the intended message.  Nopony was going to call her a liar!  Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes and removed her pendant.

<->

Arthur Weasley came home to an unusual sight.  His wife was sitting on the couch, watching the floo, a look of worry dominating her face.  He could detect the smells of dinner from the kitchen and could hear the shouts of children at play from the direction of the orchard.  Whatever was bothering Molly was enough for her to delay supper, but not enough to have her call the children in.

Arthur removed his hat and sat next to his wife.  She silently reached out and took his hand in her own.  “I’m just being silly,” she answered his unasked question.  “Percy is looking after Ginny and Scootaloo over at Diagon Alley.  I know he’s a responsible boy, but it’s all I can do not to go and check up on them.”

Arthur chuckled slightly as he hugged his wife.  “Did she forget something she desperately needed for school?”  He was surprised that Molly had let Ginny tag along, but had been married long enough not to give voice to that surprise.

“They went to get school supplies for Ginny.  Professor Dumbledore has approved her early entry.”

Arthur was of two minds over the news.  “That’s wonderful,” said his pride as a father.  “How are we going to pay for it?” said his annoying practical side.

“The girls have offered to pay her tuition,” Molly stated.  “They were very interested in our daughter joining them at Hogwarts this year.”

Arthur wasn’t as prideful as his wife, but he couldn’t just accept such generosity so readily.  Once again, his wife answered before he spoke.  “Dumbledore said it would be best to accept.  He said the girls were a type of ambassador, and we should not risk offending them by refusing their kind offer.”

Now Arthur understood why Molly was conflicted.  She wasn’t known for disagreeing with Albus Dumbledore.

Without warning, the floo flared and Ginny made her appearance.  She quickly moved to the side to avoid the next traveler.  

Scootaloo followed; she was getting good at tucking and rolling.  The half second of airtime kind of made it necessary.

Molly was already hugging her little girl when Percy arrived.

Arthur addressed Percy.  “Were there any difficulties?”  After a shaken head in response, Arthur said, “Good, now go get everyone from the orchard; it’s time to eat and then pack for school tomorrow.”

Supper then passed without much hassle.  None of the girls had any hesitation with the meat that evening, seeing how it was a pork roast.  The only oddities were the analytical looks Ron keep giving the guests, while the twins carried on as if nothing had changed.

In due time, Ginny and the fillies were in her room once more, this time packing for Ginny.  There was a knock on the door followed by the twins entering.

Without small talk, they got directly to the point.  “While we respect your right to keep secrets.”

“We were thinking.”

“It might be a good idea.”

“If you would share your secret with Ginny.”

“We can vouch . . .”

“. . . that she can keep quiet.”

“Secret?” Sweetie Belle stared at the twins wide eyed.  “What secret?”

The twins looked at each other then back at Sweetie. “If you could . . .”

“. . . please remove. . .”

“. . . your pendant, Sweetie Belle?”

“Okay?” and she did.

Ginny sucked in a deep surprised breath.  “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  SHE’S SO CUTE!”

Scootaloo turned to the twins and deadpanned, “Sure, she can definitely keep quiet.”  The twins had enough decency to look sheepish.

The scream had brought the elder Weasleys running.  Wands drawn, they came upon the scene of their daughter hugging a little stuffed white animal.

“Ginny!” the stuffed animal gasped in Sweetie Belle’s voice.  “I need to breathe!”

“Sorry.”  Ginny relaxed her grip but didn’t let the small bundle of cuteness go.  “But I just have to hug you.”

Molly put her wand away.  “Sweetie Belle?” she asked what appeared to be a small white unicorn filly with Sweetie Belle’s eyes and a mane and tail the same shades as the child’s hair.

“Oh.  Hi, Mrs. Weasley,” the little unicorn waved a hoof in greeting.  “Sorry about the screaming.  I think I startled Ginny.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be an animagus?” Arthur asked, also putting away his wand.

“Maybe?” Sweetie Belle answered honestly.

“That is truly amazing.”  Arthur patted her on her head.  “Just remember, after you receive your owls, you’ll have to register your alternate form.”  He looked at her for a few seconds more.  “But, enough playing around.  You leave on the express tomorrow and there is packing to be done.”  He turned to the twins.  “This means you.”

Once again it was just the girls in Ginny’s room.  Ginny turned her gaze to the other two girls in wonder.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Apple Bloom shook her head.  “Ah ain’t takin’ off mah pendant.”

“Me neither,” Scootaloo echoed.

“Awwww.”  And the pouting commenced.

“Ginny?  Could you let me go now please?” said the not so stuffed pony.

A trunk was packed, baths were taken and four girls laid down to sleep for the night.

<->

The next morning, Molly woke the children well before first light.  She then proceeded to make sure they were fed and had completed packing.  The feeding was easy enough, but the Weasley children all had things that they realized they had forgotten, and there was much running up and down the stairs.  Amused, the fillies sat on the couch and watched the show.

Percy appeared to have a new owl that his parents had apparently bought as a gift for becoming prefect.  Ron produced a rat.  He then preceded to have minor fit when Sweetie Belle asked if rats were good to eat.  Apparently, they were not, and the rat seemed relieved when the fillies appeared to understand that.

“You may be taking to the whole notion of eating meat a little too well,” Apple Bloom told Sweetie.

Sweetie Belle gave a sullen look and muttered.  “I’ll bet he’d go good with gravy.”

This caused Scootaloo to wonder if this meant Sweetie Belle might take it into her head to try to cook meat.  The resulting image had more levels of wrongness than she was willing to contemplate.

The children were then herded out to a strange metal carriage. There was a compartment in the back where boys’ trunks where placed.  It didn’t look like it should have room for one, let alone all four.  However, the girls weren’t going to complain; they each literally had a small apartment in their pockets.

The seating on the inside was more spacious than what seemed possible from the outside appearance.  When they were all seated, Arthur joined them.  He took the front seat that had a strange valve like object situated in front of it. Was there steam involved here somehow?  Molly took the front seat beside his.

After Arthur asked everyone if they were ready, the carriage started to move.  It moved without anypony pulling it.  It was a ponyless carriage!  Well, it was if you didn’t count the ponies riding in it.

They passed many more carriages of all shapes and sizes, and eventually entered a more populated area.  There were taller buildings, and humans swarmed everywhere.  Soon, the carriage found a spot to stop, and the children filed out.  While the boys loaded their luggage on some convenient carts, Arthur took the time to hug each of his children and tell them that he would miss them.  He took extra time with Ginny; his youngest was going off to school a year earlier than he had planned.

Soon, he departed in the carriage, having to return it to "the Ministry".  Molly then hustled the children down into a below-ground train station, the likes of which the fillies had never seen nor heard of before.  True, they had trains in Equestria, but they all ran above ground.  Besides, the air down here both smelled and tasted funny.

Molly shook her head and said, “Won’t you look at all the muggles walking around.”  Then, to give either Ron or Ginny a chance to shine, “Which platform was it again?”  After all, it wasn’t Molly’s first time to the platform, and was, in fact, the only magical platform in the station.

“Platform 9¾,” Ginny obediently chirped up, proud of her ability to answer the question.

“Right, then, off we go.”  Molly nodded and started driving her small mob onward.  She hadn’t taken a step herself when a young boy came hurrying up, pushing a cart of his own.

“Excuse me,” he asked politely with a hopeful voice. “Did you say 'Platform 9¾'?”  He was a scrawny looking boy, and he wore ill-fitting, worn clothing.  When he ran his hand through his messy black hair, Scootaloo caught a quick glimpse, just a glimpse, but more than enough for her eyes to notice.  On the boy’s forehead was a scar; it was in the shape of a lightning bolt.
> Chapter 7: Hat Trick
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apple Bloom blinked as the sudden change in location assaulted her senses.  The new scene was still at a train stop, but it was different from where she had just been.  While no expert on human structures, where she had been and where she was currently felt different on a gut level.  There were still humans everywhere, but these tended to favor the robes she had gotten used to seeing them in.

Before Apple Bloom had long to register that she was somewhere else, another figure rushed through the seemingly solid brick wall and pulled to a stop beside her.  It resolved into that new black-haired colt, who had introduced himself as Hairy.  With his shaggy mane, it was obvious where he had received that name.  Still, it felt like only half a name.  Perhaps it would turn out to be something like “Hairy Cutter”, or maybe “Hairy Shaver”.  Regardless, he was gawking at the new platform in awe.  That feeling Apple Bloom could relate to; she remembered the first time that Twilight had teleported her.

“Impressive, ain’t it?” Apple Bloom said to him.  Then, as Ginny came through the barrier, she cautioned, “We had best make room, ‘fore we get trampled.”  Redheads steadily continued to trickle into the new area.

“It’s wonderful,” Hairy agreed, his mouth remaining half open the entire time.

“Now is not the time for standing around,” Molly firmly told everyone present.  “Onto the train with the lot of you.  It’ll be departing soon.”  She knelt to give Ginny one last hug.  “Remember, if you think it’s too much, just have a professor floo us, and you can wait until next year.”

In response, Ginny gave her a look letting her know that that was most definitely not going to happen.

The colt, Hairy, was watching this interaction with a look of longing.  Noting the look, Sweetie Belle shuffled up to him and asked if he needed help with his things; then she grabbed the cage containing the white owl without waiting for an answer.

“Yah, let’s git agoin’.”  Apple Bloom reached over to grab his trunk.  The Weasleys and the colt all marveled at how easily the small girl lifted it.

“Looks like he’s got a featherweight charm,” one of the twins commented as he and his brothers struggled with the remaining trunks.

“What’s a featherweight charm?” Hairy asked, confused.

“We want to thank you for having us over at your home for the last couple days,” Sweetie Belle added hefting the cage to a more comfortable position, the resident barking her outrage at the treatment.  “We had fun and we enjoyed your hospitality.”

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom nodded their heads in agreement.  “Yeah,” Scootaloo added, “what she said, hos-bit-all-ity.”

“Hospitality,” Sweetie Belle corrected.

“That’s what I said,” Scootaloo insisted as she made her way over to help Percy with his trunk and owl combo.

<->

An empty compartment was found, and the six first years claimed it as their own.  Harry hadn't really had a choice in the matter; the girl with purple and pink hair was carrying Hedwig.  More startling, the girl with the outrageously bright red hair was carrying his trunk -- by herself -- with no apparent effort.  Once inside the compartment, she even did a jump in the air and lightly deposited his trunk onto the overhead shelf.  Harry watched in stunned silence; he had trouble maneuvering the trunk as it was, never mind jumping with it.

The youngest redheaded boy of the group, “Percy” or maybe “Ronald”, wordlessly handed his trunk over and the redheaded girl repeated the jumping maneuver.

Meanwhile, the purple and pink-haired girl was studying Hedwig through the bars of her cage.  “Are owls good to eat?” she asked.

At this Hedwig swiveled her head to stare at the girl, the owl’s eyes somehow managing to go wider than they were already.

“Sweetie Belle,” Ron scolded, protectively covering one of his pockets with his hands, “’Tisn’t polite to go around asking people if you can eat their pets.”

“Okay,” Sweetie Belle beamed, handing Harry the cage.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Harry eagerly accepted the cage, while Hedwig retreated as far from the crazy girl as she could manage in the cage.  “I think that it might be Hedwig, you should be apologizing to,” he observed.

“I’m sorry Hedwig,” Sweetie Belle directed at the bird.  “I wasn’t planning on eating you.  I was just wondering if owls in general were good to eat.”

“Bark!” Hedwig berated Sweetie, as the owl did her best to huddle up to her wizard through the cage’s bars.

Harry quickly stowed Hedwig next to his trunk.  The owl was glad to no longer be the object of attention.

“Owls are for carrying letters and mail.  They are more like family than pets. Definitely not lunch,” the smallest redhead girl clarified to Sweetie Belle.  She had a more normal shade of red hair, the kind Harry would have called bright red, just this morning, before meeting a girl with truly bright red hair.

“Letters?” the purple . . . yes, purple-haired girl asked.  “So that’s actually a normal thing and all?”

“Yup, owls can take your letters anywhere,” Ronald said proudly.

“Anywhere?” Sweetie Belle asked.  A glint in her eyes told she was planning on testing the limits of that statement.

Conversation stopped as the train started moving.  The children raced to the windows for one last wave goodbye.

<->

She hadn’t moved in two days.  Upon her cloud she perched, never taking her eyes off the line of trees below.

It had been four days gone by since they went missing.  There had been search parties out to canvass the surrounding areas, but the Everfree could not be subjected to the same treatment.  The trees grew so that the canopy blocked all aerial scouting.  

Few would venture into that forest, even to look for lost fillies.  The royal guard had been called to supplement the effort.  They were already in the shadows of the trees.  Searching. Hoping. Praying.  Somepony had to mount a watch on the forest’s edge, just in case they found their own way back and needed help.

She hadn’t moved in two days.  Upon her cloud she perched, never taking her eyes off the line of trees below.

There were volunteers who brought her food and water.  They even offered to take the watch for a time so she could rest.  She just shook her head, her rainbow-colored mane uncombed and uncared for.  She could handle it.  She WOULD handle it.

Somepony had to mount a watch on the forest’s edge, just in case they found their own way back and needed help.

She hadn’t moved in two days.  Upon her cloud she perched, never taking her eyes off the line of trees below.

She didn’t cry.  She most decidedly did not cry.  She had no tears left.

Somepony had to mount a watch on the forest’s edge, just in case they found their own way back and needed help.  That somepony was she.

<->

“Ah don’t think we properly introduced ourselves,” Apple Bloom said to the newest addition to their group, “what with all the hustle and bustle.  She then gestured to herself.  “Mah name’s Apple Bloom.”

“And I’m Scootaloo.”  Scootaloo bounced up and down in her seat for attention.

“Sweetie Belle.”  The owner of the name said, “Sorry again about the owl question.”

“Ron Weasley, and this here is my sister Ginny.”  Ron gestured to his sister as way of emphasis.

“Hey, I can introduce myself,” Ginny complained, scowling at her brother.

The black-haired colt smiled and said, “Pleased to meet you, my name’s Harry Potter.”

With that declaration, Ron stared at the colt, with his mouth open and Ginny once more took a deep breath.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!” was heard in the compartment.

Sweetie Belle looked, deadpan, at Harry.  “She does that from time to time,” she informed him.

<->

She trudged through the underbrush of the forest, a multitude of burrs caught in her straight pink mane.

Though her people were known for being herbivores, she was hunting, hunting for a sign, a track, a tuff of fur, anything.

There had been no “hoof ache, eye twitch, foreboding sense of dread”, that one combination she never talked about, the one that let her know somepony she knew wasn’t coming back.  There was still room for optimism, even if it had been four days.  

There could still be a “You ran off without telling anypony, but managed to come back unhurt so you’re only grounded for life” party.  She would do her best to make it happen.  Parties were her thing after all.

She trudged through the underbrush of the forest, a multitude of burrs caught in her straight pink mane.

<->

After the prefect, who had come to check on the screaming, left, Ron focused his attention on Harry. “So,” he said pointing to his own forehead, “do you really have it?”

Sighing, Harry moved the fringe of hair covering his forehead.

“Cool,” said Scootaloo, “how’d you get that?”

Ginny shot her a dirty look, letting her know that was exactly the wrong thing to ask.

<->

She would contribute as much as she could.

One of the missing was a unicorn, a unicorn that she knew especially well, a unicorn who had practiced fledgling magic in her library countless times.

There was still residue on the toys used for such practice.  Residue that could be used to craft a compass.  A compass that would point to any new or recent magic usage by that very same unicorn.  Sure, it would be limited in range, but the search had turned up nothing so far.  Maybe this would be the help they needed.

She would contribute as much as she could, and anything else that was needed.

<->

“I do know one spell, the twins taught me,” Ron went to reach into his pocket then suddenly eyed Sweetie Belle, “but right now probably wouldn’t be a good time to try it.”

The door to the compartment opened and a girl with bushy brown hair stood in the doorway.  “Have any of you seen a toad?  Neville here has lost his,” she asked.

“Toad?” Sweetie Belle tilted her head as she readied her question.  “Are toads . . .”

“Sweetie!” the other children in the compartment all yelled.

“What?” she pouted, “I was just going to ask if they were actually a common pet.”

“Bark!” came a reprimand from the overhead shelf.

<->

She stopped to question a local.

She had one of the larger royal guards with her, as well as Harry the bear.  They watched over her as she canvassed the local populous.  She was hoping one of the resident critters had seen something.

Mr. Squirrel shook his head; there was no news for him to relay.

Sighing she lowered her head in frustration, doing her best to hide the tears.  There had been no luck.  Not a critter had seen them.

This could be a good sign.  Maybe they hadn’t entered the forest.  She would keep asking, of course, just in case.

She stopped to question a local.  The hedgehog had nothing to report.

<->

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself.”  Harry ignored the outstretched hand of the blonde-hair boy who had invaded their compartment.

Behind him all the girls and Ron were glaring daggers at the offender.  

“Another Diamond Tiara,” Scootaloo muttered under her breath.  Then out loud, she stated, “Now we know to steer clear of Slytherin.”

“Actually,” Apple Bloom corrected, “the twins told us that yesterday.”

“You were going to tell me when?” Scootaloo complained.

<->

She marched through the forest.

She kept her ears perked ready for the slightest of sounds.

Chores could go on waiting to be done.  She had family to find.  She had to believe that.  She had to believe it because if she didn’t, she couldn’t lie to herself.

Suddenly, a single timber wolf jumped out in front of her, clearly a loner on the lookout for a possible pony meal.  She didn’t even break stride, somehow plowing through as she moved forward.  There was a trail of timber wolf bits five miles long, falling to the forest floor.

She marched through the forest.  Woe betide whatever got in her way.

<->

“We’ll be arriving soon,” the bushy haired girl named Hermione informed everyone.  “You should all get into your robes.”

She had taken it upon herself to join the rest of the group.  Decidedly a bit on the bossy side, she had the strangest name yet encountered.  On the plus side, she was a fountain of information, though Ron didn’t appear to think this was much of a plus.

“Okay.”  Scootaloo jumped up and started to remove her current outfit.

“Wait, wait!” Hermione waved her hands frantically.  “Let the boys leave first; they can have the compartment next.”

<_>

She slogged through the mud.

Her escorts followed obediently behind her.  Celestia had sent her best.  They were helping her, helping her find what she could not on her own.

The wet earth seeped into her white coat unheeded.  It wasn’t important.  She could find gems easily enough.  It was her talent, after all.  Gems didn’t matter.  

What did matter, she couldn’t find.  She couldn’t stop looking. She wouldn’t.

She slogged through the mud.

<->

“Firss’ years.”  The largest human by far shouted, “Firss’ years ova’ here!”

There were boats.  Ginny and the fillies took one.  Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville took another.  Soon, they were on their way.  The boats moved by magic.

The image of a castle filled their vision.  It wasn’t as grand as the castle in Canterlot, but it had presence.  Old, magnificent and magical, it called out that it was there, and it was a force to be reckoned with.

<_>

The sun lost the sky and Luna brought the night.

She hadn’t moved in three days. Upon her cloud she perched, never taking her eyes off the line of trees below.

She trudged through the underbrush of the forest, a multitude of burrs caught in her straight pink mane.

She would contribute as much as she could.

She stopped to question a local.

She marched through the forest.

She slogged through the mud.

Silently night fell.  There would be no sweet dreams this eve.

<->

The doors to the castle parted, revealing a stern-looking Minerva McGonagall.  

“I’ve brought the firs’ years fer ya,” the big man said to her.  “All safe and sound like.”

“Thank you, Hagrid.”  Professor McGonagall nodded in acceptance. “Follow me, children.  It is almost time to be sorted.”  She led the gaggle of children into a small chamber where they were told they were to wait until the sorting commenced.

“How do you suppose they’ll be sorting us?” Hermione asked.  “It wasn’t covered in ‘Hogwarts a History’.”

Then somebody screamed, “Ghost!”

Apple Bloom planted her feet, Sweetie jumped on her back, and Scootaloo piggy-backed on Sweetie’s.

Everyone, the ghosts included, stared at them as they made faces designed to scare ghosts away.

One of the ghosts with his head nearly removed turned to another covered in silvery blood, “Now, that’s a first,” he said

“Alright children, form up a—What on earth are you doing?”  Professor McGonagall entered the room to the sight of the strange standoff.

In response, the entire first year class pointed at the ghosts.

“Those are just the school’s ghosts.  They won’t hurt you.”  Professor McGonagall gave a stern look.  “When Tom told me you did that when scared, I had thought he was joking.”  She pursed her lips then continued.  “Enough of that now, you’re keeping everyone waiting.  Line up and follow me.  It is sorting time.”

They followed Professor McGonagall into a large hall.  There were four long tables dominating the majority of it, with a shorter one set up on a platform near the far end.  Human fillies and colts of different ages sat at the long tables wearing similar robes that had trim color coded to their different tables.  The adults in the room were sitting at the table on the platform.

Glancing up, Apple Bloom saw that the ceiling was painted to look like the night sky.  It was . . .

“It’s enchanted to look like the sky outside.”  She heard Hermione say to another girl, “I read about it in ‘Hogwarts, A History’.”

Um, glancing up Apple Bloom saw that the ceiling was enchanted to reflect the sky outside.  It was a beautiful sight.

Professor McGonagall stopped the first years near the back of the hall.  She then went to the platform and produced a stool, and then set a hat on the stool.  It was a worn-looking thing.  “Battered” would probably be a better description.  Sweetie Belle could practically feel the dirt radiating off it from where she stood with the rest of the first years.  Rarity would have had a fit just looking at it.

Suddenly the hat’s brim ripped open, and it started to sing.  It wasn’t a heart song by any measure, but it was a song, a song coming from a hat!

Apple Bloom was tempted to plant her feet firmly, but the other two fillies didn’t move.  After the talking mirror, a talking hat was acceptable.

After the song, Professor McGonagall informed the first years that they would be sorted by placing the hat on their heads.  They would then be placed in a house which would be their families for the next seven years.  

She then called out for Miss Hannah Abbott.  The girl, who was misfortunate enough to have a name near the beginning of the alphabet, marched forward toward her fate.  It wasn’t long before the hat called out, “Hufflepuff!” and Hannah was ushered to the table that had yellow-trimmed students.  As she walked, her robes took on a yellow trim as well.

Professor McGonagall looked at her list a second time and called, “Miss Scoot Aloo.”

The entire hall watched as she nonchalantly approached the stool and had a seat.  There were more than a few whispers over the shade of her hair.

The hat was placed over her head and eyes.  The hall disappeared from her view.

“Well well well,” a voice said from inside her head.  Alarmingly, it wasn’t her own voice.  “You are the first pegasus I have had the pleasure of sorting,” the voice, the hat said.

“Um, hello,” Scootaloo bravely answered.

“There is so much new and exhilarating information in here,” the hat continued, ignoring her greeting.  “I am extremely grateful I don’t have to sort this Rainbow Dash, whom you are so fond of.”

“Why?” Scootaloo asked, feeling a bit of annoyance at the perceived insult to her idol.

“It seems she would fit in perfectly with the Gryffindors, almost by definition.”  The hat chuckled.  “But with her literally being the Element of Loyalty from your world, I’d almost be obligated to put her in Hufflepuff.”

“Oh.”  Scootaloo didn’t understand, but it apparently hadn’t been an insult.

“You’re much easier.  You don’t have much ambition beyond getting a cutie mark, and that is more of a desire to grow up than an ambition.  Slytherin is most assuredly out.  I am sorry to say, you lack qualities central to the mindset of Ravenclaw; that house is also not an option for you.  Hufflepuff is not a house you would be comfortable with.  You have loyalty aplenty and are not afraid of hard work.  However, the students there are not prone to excitement, they would drive you to boredom soon enough.  No, the answer lies in the fact you are sitting here below me on this date, a happenstance brought about by a bold and daring action.  Yes, there is only one house for you.”

The hat spoke a word from its place atop of Scootaloo’s head, and that word was “Gryffindor!”

Scootaloo saw the Weasley twins jumping with glee and motioning for her to sit beside them.  She got off the stool and joined her new house, happy to see them and Percy waiting for her.

“Miss Sweetie Belle” was the next name to be called.  With her hair bouncing merrily, she skipped up to the stool, confident after watching the ease with which Scootaloo had conquered the challenge.

Her world went dark and the hat spoke, “First a pegasus, now a unicorn.  This truly is a wonderful day for Hogwarts.”

“Um, hello?”  Sweetie Belle was startled by the voice in her head.

“Let's see, you lack ambition but not drive.  You badly want to be able to cook but that does not define your desires for your future.”

“Um, okay.”

“I can see you easily succeeding in either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.  You have both the mindset desired by Rowena and the sincerity that Helga adored.”

“That’s good . . . I think,” Sweetie agreed.

“However, what defines you is your willingness to take a chance, even though, most times, you're just along for the ride.  It is obvious what your house shall be.”

For the second time that night, the hat added to the Gryffindor table.

“Miss Apple Bloom” was called next.

“Ah, and here we have an earth pony to complete the set.” The hat said inside her mind as soon as it was settled.

“Y’all can talk?” Apple Bloom thought, “inside mah head that is.”

The hat chuckled and said, “Obviously.  Now let’s see where . . .”

“Put me in Gryffindor,” Apple Bloom interrupted.

“Don’t you wish to explore your options?”

“Ah don’t care.  Put me in Gryffindor with mah friends please.”

“I see; yes, you will do well in the house of the lions.  So be it.”

One declaration later and Apple Bloom joined her friends at the Gryffindor table.

One of the older girls giggled and said, “Three new firsties in a row, does that qualify as a hat trick?”

Fred and George had just finished explaining the pun to Scootaloo when Hermione joined the table.

Names were called, children found new houses to sit with, and there was much clapping to be had.  All the while, the background chatter cast a relaxing and constant white noise.

A name was called and the chatter ceased.  All eyes fell with expectation and wonder upon the boy called.  Daunted by the attention, Harry Potter made his way to sit and be sorted.

As most of the rest held their breaths in anticipation, Apple Bloom leaned into Fred, or maybe it was George and asked, “What gives?”

“Harry’s very famous in the wizardly world,” the twin whispered back.

Silence reigned, and all wondered at the conversation going on beneath the hat.  When the verdict was announced, the twins led the celebration by chanting “We got Potter!  We got Potter!  We got Potter!”

Sweetie Belle was pleased how the sorting was going so far.  Just two more, and they would have the set.  Finally, after an insufferable wait, Ginny’s name was finally called.  Not too long afterward, she was sitting across from Sweetie.

Ron was next to be called after his sister.  The hat spent less time on his head than hers before sending him to the house his family claimed as their own.

This generation’s Weasleys had in one voice declared their allegiance, and it was good.

After that, there was one more named called. Blaise Zabini went to the Slytherin table, and thus, the sorting was complete.

Professor Dumbledore stood from his seat at the teachers' table. “Welcome,” he said.  “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!  Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words.  And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!  Thank you!”

With that he sat down.

Harry blinked and asked, “Is he mad?”

Percy answered, “Mad?  A bit maybe, but he is a genius.  A more powerful wizard you’ll not find.”

Harry blinked and realized that the table, which had been barren before, was now covered with all sorts of food.  He immediately set about to trying some of everything.

Ron had sat down next to Apple Bloom and was just as gleeful as she was at the sight of the food.  The two, in a devastating show of teamwork, proceeded to lay waste to everything within arm’s reach.

Disturbed by the sight, Scootaloo chose to settle on some of the fish she found.  She finished off her meal with as many varieties of vegetables as she could find.

Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle was intrigued.  There were all kinds of meat to sample.  Here was one shaped like a tube.  Kind of like a hay sausage only with meat instead.  It was rather spicy, but tasty.  Here was some kind of bird that came with a thick white sauce.  The liquid was a bit too salty, but the bird meat by itself went down nicely.

A summary glance showed that there was no Beef Wellington to be had, but Ginny introduced her to something called steak.  It was chewy, but the texture was nice.  With experimentation, it turned out that it actually went nicely with the sauce meant for the bird.  Also tasty were the more familiar pork chops, a bit greasy, but filling.

After observing the girl for several minutes, Percy said, “Sweetie, you have to eat your vegetables too.”

“Okay,” she agreed as she gnawed the bone that came with her steak.  Examining the table, she decided that maybe some potatoes should be had.

After a while, the dishes filled with supper suddenly disappeared and were just as quickly replaced by an array of desserts.  With gleeful abandon, Ron and Apple Bloom quickly demonstrated that they still had room available.  With quick movements, they each claimed a whole pie for themselves.  Ron’s was pumpkin, and Apple Bloom took one filled with apples.

Sadly, Scootaloo looked on, wishing she had thought to save room for dessert.  

Meanwhile Sweetie Belle scrutinized the offering and found none to be containing meat.  Full from the meal, she quickly lost interest after that.

Harry was surveying the table with the teachers and at one point clapped his hand over his scar in pain.  He immediately denied anything being wrong after that.

“I’m pretty sure they each consumed their own body weight in food,” one of the twins’ friends was saying to them.  “How is that even possible?”

Time passed and desserts were finished.  Once again, the tables were cleared.

At the head table, Dumbledore once more stood and addressed the student body.  “A few words for the start of the term, before we find our beds for the night.  First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils.  A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.  Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, would like you all reminded that no magic is to be used between classes in the corridors.  Quidditch trials shall be held the second week of the term.  If you are interested in playing, please contact Madam Hooch.”

Dumbledore then rubbed his beard as if to give consideration to a deep thought, “And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

This immediately got the attention of each and every member of the CMC.  Forbidden forests were kind of their thing after all.  Furthermore, the off-limit corridor sounded like challenge as well.  How dangerous could something in a school be?  Anything really dangerous would be behind more locks than you could shake a hoof at.

Dumbledore then called for the school song to be sung.  The resulting audio fiasco had all three fillies cringing in horror.  

Afterwards it was time to follow Percy, their prefect, to the Gryffindor tower.  He led them through the castle, up several flights of stairs until he finally stopped in front of large portrait of a fat lady.  

The picture moved and asked “Password?”

With a startled squeak, Apple Bloom planted her feet solidly on the floor, Sweetie Belle jumped on her back, and Scootaloo topped the formation.

There were a few seconds of complete silence, then Hermione asked, “Do you do that often?”

<->

The night continued a slow progress towards dawn.

She would not abandon her watch.

She would turn over every rock.

She would think of something.

She would ask all for help.

She would not stop.

She would continue no matter the cost.

One way or another, the fillies would be found.
> Chapter 8: Good Morning Hogwarts!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Satisfied with Percy’s response, the portrait swung open.  The room it guarded was a comfortable sort of place, round and filled with cozy armchairs.  An unlit fireplace dominated the space opposite the entrance.  As accents, two archways, with stone stairs visible, stood at the remaining two cardinal compass points.

Percy directed the girls up one set of stairs and then led the boys up the other.  Left to their own devices, the girls languidly climbed the stairs to find their dorm; they had experienced a long day and a large supper, a combination draining for any young child.  The room they found was another round room, pleasantly filled with seven canopy beds, three of which already had trunks set at their feet to denote their owners.

The girls gave a cursory inspection of the room and the adjoining shared bathroom.  Then, four trunks unshrunk, marking the remaining beds.  Taken aback by their sudden appearance, Hermione wondered about the artifacts’ ability to change size so radically.  She was more than ready to start asking questions, but was held back by general tiredness.

“All right,” Sweetie sighed, “bath, then bed; I’m beat.”

“You’re out of luck,” a girl, Apple Bloom thought her name might be Lavender, said.  “There are only showers in here.”

“That’s okay,” Scootaloo said, opening her trunk.  “We brought our own.”  She then disappeared into her trunk.  Sweetie Belle, then Ginny, soon followed. 

Apple Bloom trotted over from where she had been standing on the other side of the room.  She said to the three remaining girls, “Coming?” before she, too, disappeared into the trunk.

Hesitantly, Hermione peered into the trunk.  There was a staircase leading down.  Shrugging, she descended.  Not wanting to be left out, the two remaining Gryffindor first-year girls followed.

Soon, they were congregated in a large bathroom.  A spacious, ground-level tub was filling with warm water.

“I am so beat,” Sweetie Belle repeated, and then proceeded to remove her clothing.  

Hermione noticed that Apple, Ginny, and Scoot were all doing the same, not a shred of self-consciousness to be had among them.  Shrugging once more, she, too, began to disrobe.  A few seconds later, Lavender and Parvati duplicated the procedure.

The tub easily fit them all without being snug, seemingly bigger than the last time it had been used.  As soon as they were all settled, washcloths were produced, and Ginny said, “Just so you know, this is where it gets weird.”

<->
Harry was spent, but spent in a good way.  It had been a wickedly wonderful day.  Most importantly, he was away from the Dursleys.  That alone was enough to make the day grand.  Also, he had eaten enough food to be truly full for the first time he could remember.  The icing on the cake was that he had made new friends, something that had been denied him by his cousin chasing away any who would attempt such a deed.

Admittedly, the Hermione girl was more than a bit bossy, but, at the same time, she was genuinely kind.  The redhead Ron seemed an okay bloke, although quidditch seemed to be his strong suit.  Speaking of strong, Apple Bloom seemed the sort that made friends for life.  Even though he lacked experience in the friendship department, he had the feeling that, if he made the effort, she would be around for a long time.  As for Ginny, she was starstruck by the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing.  Harry earnestly hoped that the affection would soon moderate.

In contrast, the purple-haired girl, Scootaloo, was slightly scary and, at the same time, accepted him for himself.  She conveyed the impression that she had more energy than she knew what to do with, to the point that she bounced almost as much as she walked.

Then there was Sweetie Belle.  She did indeed seem sweet, but Harry was never going to leave her alone in a room with Hedwig.  Had she really been thinking of eating his owl?  It didn’t seem like she had been joking.  No, it would be best to keep her as far from Hedwig as possible.

With as little fuss as possible, Harry donned his night clothes and climbed into bed.  He was really spent.
<->
Hermione was of two minds over the experience.  It had been a long time since she had needed help washing herself, and the thought of washing another was foreign.  She was most definitely not used to others touching her in the fashion that had accompanied the bath.  There had been nothing sexual about it, not even a bit suggestive.  It was simply not something she was used to.  She hadn’t been uncomfortable with it, but it was outside her comfort zone.

What sold her on the idea was when Lavender had washed her hair.  Having someone else massage her scalp while she in turn did Sweetie’s was an indulgence that would bring her back for more.  It was much better than standing in the shower, doing it herself.

Honestly, she wasn’t all that interested in hair care, but Sweetie Belle had insisted on everyone using the conditioner.  Afterwards, sitting in the tub, the presence of her new classmates surrounding her as the solution did its work, was almost Zen-like.  Hermione could get used to the entire treatment.

After drying, Apple Bloom led them all into the bed chamber.  A large single bed awaited them.

“Does the bed seem larger?” Scootaloo asked upon seeing it.

“You’re in your bedroom, that’s in your trunk, which you carried to school in your pocket,” Sweetie Belle yawned, clearly on her last legs, “and you’re worried about how the bed knows what size to be?”

Scootaloo thought about it, and then shrugged before climbing into the bed.

“Aren’t we going to use nightgowns?” Parvati asked, unsure about the whole idea of sleeping naked next to someone she just met.

“Too much effort,” Apple Bloom commented as she, too, made her way into the bed.

Feeling as if shrugging was becoming her new thing, Hermione was next.

Peer pressure is a compelling thing, even when applied unintentionally.  It was not long before all the girls were asleep beneath the covers.

<-> 
Fay Dunbar was a seventh-year Gryffindor prefect.  As such, she had responsibilities.  She was getting ready to commence patrolling the corridors for the first night of the school term, but beforehand, she was checking to make sure all of the girls in her tower were settled in.  Working her way backwards in years, she checked each dorm and was satisfied with what she saw.  That is, until she reached the dorm of the first-years.

She opened the door and saw that there were seven beds as there should be -- seven empty beds as there most assuredly shouldn’t be!  Fay quickly searched the room.  The beds had not been slept in, and there was no one in the bathroom!  She had lost the first-years!  The first day of school and she had lost the entire first-year girls’ class!

Panicking slightly, Fay raced to the common room, where the sixth-year male prefect was the only one present.  Hasty questioning reveled that he had not seen anyone.  Fay received his assurance that he would check the boys’ dorms, on the off chance the girls had snuck into them for some reason.  Fay’s next action was to wake the fat lady, only to find that no one had exited the tower that night.  With panic quickly approaching hysteria, Fay rushed to the quarters of her head of house.

<->
Professor McGonagall was giving the schedules one more going over when the pounding on her door commenced.  She had been an educator for many years, and had come to know the different styles of pounding a door would receive.  This was not an angry pounding, or even an impatient pounding.  No, this was a panicked pounding.  She wasted no time, waving her wand to open the egress even as she left her seat.

Her seventh-year female prefect bolted into the room, out of breath and in quite a state.  It seemed the first day wasn’t even officially over, and there was already going to be a crisis.  Without waiting for the story, Minerva rushed toward the Gryffindor tower with Miss Dunbar in close pursuit.  Professor McGonagall had been an educator for many years.  When a prefect rushes into your office panicking and so out of breath that she can’t speak, well, you don’t wait for explanations, you make tracks for the scene of the disturbance.  Grimacing, she barely slowed as she sent her patronus for Albus.

Professor McGonagall rapidly approached the tower.  The fat lady, who had not yet fallen back asleep, saw the state of the head of house and swung open without the usual protocol.  Once inside the common room, Minerva turned to her prefect, questioningly.  When the girl pointed to the girls’ dorms, Minerva was off again.  She heard Fay manage to gasp out, “Firsts.”

Minerva flew up the stairs and found her way to the first-years’ dorm.  Upon entry, she found the room free of blood, clutter, or any sign of mishap.  Surprisingly, it was also free of any sign of students.  Minerva quickly added two and two and got four. 

“You panicked after seeing none of the beds had been slept in and all of the first-years were gone?” she asked of Miss Dunbar.

Jealously, wondering how the older woman managed to run the whole way here without being out of breath, Fay could only nod her head as an answer.

Never losing her calm exterior, Minerva nodded.  “All well and good.  It is better that you rush me when the situation doesn’t call for it, than for you not to rush me when it does.”  With that, she went to four of the students’ trunks and rapped loudly on the lids.

Professor Dumbledore chose that second to arrive.  He, too, was not out of breath as he surveyed the dorm questioningly.

“I apologize, headmaster,” Professor McGonagall said as she patiently stared at the trunks.  “It seems there has been a misunderstanding.”

Dumbledore nodded his head and said, “I see.  A most understandable situation.”

Fay watched the two professors as her breath returned, clearly confused by the lack of action.  She was about to start asking questions when the lid of one of the trunks flipped open, and the head of the girl with bright red hair popped out.

Rubbing her eyes groggily, the redhead looked around and said, “Whaaaa?”

Fay could see that the girl was standing naked on a set of stairs leading down into the trunk.

“Ah, Miss Bloom,” Dumbledore greeted, unfazed by the girl’s lack of clothing, “I am sorry that we have disturbed your slumber.  It would appear that your and your classmates’ absence from the dorm has driven Miss Dunbar here to distraction.”

Apple Bloom nodded her head.

“Is it safe to assume that all of your classmates are either in this trunk or one of the others?”

Apple Bloom nodded her head.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you, and the others who have brought such wonderful trunks, add the house prefects to the access list for each, if you plan on spending time in them.  The prefects must, after all, be able to check in on you.”

Apple Bloom nodded her head.

“The vanilla yogurt goes especially well on the dog’s coat after the rain.”

Apple Bloom nodded her head.

“Perhaps we should continue this discussion tomorrow when you are more awake and might actually remember it?”

Apple Bloom nodded her head.

“Miss Dunbar, if you would be so kind as to escort Miss Bloom back to her bed.”

Apple Bloom nodded her head.

Sensing the pattern, Fay nudged Apple Bloom back down the stairs.  She marveled at the well-appointed sitting room as she quickly maneuvered Apple Bloom into the bedroom.  Inside, she was relieved as she counted all seven girls present.  Their lack of clothing was odd, but they were too young for it to be a concern.

Dusting her hands, she climbed the stairs and exited the trunk.

“Leave the lid open.” Professor McGonagall instructed; it seemed that the headmaster had already left.  “I wish to commend you on your quick action.  Though unnecessary, it was the proper thing to do.”

Fay nodded gratefully; she was still embarrassed over the panic she had displayed.

Professor McGonagall bid her goodnight and left as well.
<->
Ginny was the first to wake the next morning.  She was deliriously happy.  Not only was she at Hogwarts and not facing loneliness and boredom, she also had met Harry Potter, the man of her dreams, the prince she would someday marry.  It was an unexpected and wonderful happenstance which had brought her to this point.  She hadn’t thought she would ever be put in such a fabulous position, not even in her wildest dreams.  

On top of that, she was friends with not one, but three unicorns!  That, in and of itself, was reason for celebration.  Sure, she hadn’t seen either Apple Bloom or Scootaloo in their true forms, but they wore those pendants just like Sweetie Belle.

It was time to wake everyone up and live life to the fullest.

The undertaking went well enough, the only hardship being getting Scootaloo moving.  Ginny was sure Scootaloo even fell back asleep standing up once or twice.  Then again, horses were supposed to be able to sleep standing, so it was entirely plausible. 

It turned out that Apple Bloom and Scootaloo both needed assistance choosing clothing for the day.  Again, that was an understandable situation, although Hermione clearly thought it odd.

“Should we wait for the boys?” Hermione asked once they all filed into the common room.

“Why wait?” Scootaloo asked, finally awake enough to be coherent.  “Let’s go get them.”  With that, she stormed the stairs to the boys’ dorms.

Their first stop turned out to be the seventh-years’ dorm.  After some hasty scurrying to get a towel around his waist for some decency, the only awake occupant, fresh from the showers, directed them to the first-years’ dorm.

Giggling, the girls arrived to find no one yet awake.  The key word being “yet”.

Sweetie Belle immediately started jumping on Ron’s bed.  Seeing her example, the rest of the girls dispersed among the remaining beds.

“Get up, get up,” Sweetie Belle sang as she bounced up and down on top of Ron.  The poor boy had a look of utter shock and confusion plastered on his not-yet-awake face.  He clutched at the mattress of his bed in alarm.

Meanwhile, Harry, who had not yet donned his glasses, came abruptly to the awareness of being beset upon by a couple of differently-shaded red blobs.  It took a few seconds of focus to realize the blobs were a pair of girls, Apple Bloom and Ginny to be exact.  Nothing remotely like this had ever happened to him before during his stay at 4 Privet Drive.  It was, without a doubt, better than being woken by a Dursley pounding on his cupboard’s door.

Neville never had a particularly social childhood; as such, the sensation of his bed suddenly doing flops jolted him awake but did not bestow coherency.  He looked up and saw bushy brown hair bouncing atop a head somewhere above him.  Grunting, he closed his eyes and attempted to reclaim sleep.  The bouncing was genuinely relaxing, the exact opposite effect the perpetrator of the action intended.  She had to resort to shaking him bodily.

Lavender and Parvati stood at either side of Seamus’ bed and took turns poking him in his arms.  With a snort, he woke up and focused on the ceiling of his canopy bed.  Something was annoying him, and he hadn’t figured out what it was yet.

Dean had what was probably the most memorable reaction.  Scootaloo screamed with glee as she threw herself bodily at his sleeping form.  One second, Dean had been sleeping peacefully in his bed, the next, he was standing next to said bed, shaking slightly as he tried to force some awareness into his brain.

“All right, since you’re up now, get ready; it’s time for classes!” Sweetie Belle joyfully chirped.

“We’ll be waiting for you in the common room,” Parvati added.

“Why bother?  We can just wait right here,” Scootaloo said from her positon, lying on Dean’s bed.

“We will wait in the common room.”  Hermione put her foot down.  “Come on, girls, let’s give them some peace so they can get dressed.”

After the door slammed behind the last of the retreating girls, Dean shook his head, in an attempt to clear the cobwebs and asked, “What the bloody hell just happened?”

Less than seventeen, but more than fifteen minutes later, the Gryffindor first-year lads slogged down the stairs into the common room.  They all had damp hair from their rushed showers.  Fortunately, they were all too excited over their first day of classes to be upset over the rude awakenings.

En masse, the entirety of the Gryffindor first-year class set out to break their fast, and very promptly got well and truly lost.

“I’m sure that’s the third time we passed that painting,” Parvati informed the group as they hurried down yet another corridor.

“Fifth time actually,” Scootaloo corrected her.  “Can anyone tell me how we are going down stairways yet still somehow appear to be higher up than when we started?”

“What I want know is how they fit this huge hallway in the tiny towers we saw from outside,” Dean commented in awe.

“Bigger on the inside than the outside seems to be a common theme,” Sweetie Belle replied.  “You should see our trunks.”

“Really?” Dean glanced at Sweetie Belle, not completely believing what she said.

“Yeah,” Sweetie nodded, and then with a sigh continued, “I wish there were others awake to ask directions.  I guess we got up too early.”

“Well,” a man with antique clothing said from his portrait, “you could always ask me.”  Then, after being confronted by a sudden tower of cuteness, he continued, “Do they do that often?”

“Apparently,” Harry said as he glanced at the spectacle, “yes.”

Learning that the castle portraits were more than willing to help with directions greatly enhanced the search for the great hall.  They managed to have no more incidents before they finally reached their destination some four minutes later.

“Those talking pictures are way creepy,” Apple Bloom commented as they filed in to claim their seats.

Lavender giggled at this statement while Seamus openly guffawed.

“Now that we’re here,” Ron looked around the otherwise deserted dining area, “does anyone know how we go about getting some brea--”  He cut off as plates of food appeared on the table before the group.

“Never mind,” he said as he and Apple Bloom ceased participation in the conversation.

The rest of the first-years boggled at the gastronomic performance for a few seconds, then, as one, decided that they needed to grab some of the food before it all disappeared again.  They weren’t particularly worried that the table would be the cause of the vanishing act.

With a little experimentation, Sweetie Belle swiftly found her new favorite food.  It was simply delectable.  She chopped it into her hash browns. . . yummy!  She dunked it in grape jelly. . . divine!  She wrapped it around boiled eggs. . . sublime!  She sandwiched it between pieces of black pudding. . . blissful!  She sampled it with the baked beans. . . glorious!

Slowly, as she devoured her meal, Sweetie Belle realized she had an audience.  Hermione was watching her endeavors with interest and trepidation.

“What?” Sweetie asked her.  Then, looking at the plate she had before her, she explained, “Everything’s better with bacon.” 

Unable to dispute the logic, Hermione returned to her own breakfast.
<->
When he entered his office first thing in the morning, Albus Dumbledore immediately lost all pretense of being a kindly old grandfather.  The wards had not informed him.  All defenses seemed to still be in place.  Yet, he was not alone as he should have been.  A stranger was sitting in the visitor chair, calmly sipping a cup of tea.  At Dumbledore’s entry, he even had the audacity to smile welcomingly and gesture for Albus to take his seat behind the desk.

Unhurried, Albus made his way to the indicated seat.  The stranger was dressed in a smart brown suit and sported a mismatched pair of expensive two-tone wingtips, one with green highlights and the other with orange.  On his hands were a mismatched pair of tight leather gloves, one red the other yellow.  This, and other subtle abnormalities, in no way detracted from the fact that he must be a powerful wizard to have bypassed the wards of Hogwarts so completely and undetected.

Upon sitting, Albus reached for his familiar comfort and started the pleasantries.  “Lemon drop?” he asked, offering the bowl.

“No, thank you.  I am watching my sugar and potion intake,” came the smooth reply; the voice held hints of amusement.

Fluidly, Dumbledore returned the candy dish to its resting spot.  “A bit early to be making visitations, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.  Yet, with your busy schedule, it felt like it would be the perfect time.”

“I see.  And to what reason may I attribute your unsolicited presence?”

“Oh, I’m just here to make small talk.”  The visitor put down his tea cup and stretched in his seat slightly.  “You know, in a schemer-to-schemer sort of fashion.”

“I see, then there’s nothing in particular you wanted to discuss?”

“Oh, I might have wanted to mention the frailty of prophecies.”  The man tsked, “Such delicate things.  Sure, you can push and pull on them all you want to no avail, and yet, they can’t take a hit from certain parallel angles.  Just one hit in such a manner, let alone three such hits, and they shatter completely.”

Albus frowned; he hoped this was not what it was beginning to sound like.

Unperturbed, the man continued, “Ah well, the plans of mice and men and all that.  After all, finding myself presented with unforeseen opportunity, how could I not take steps to stack the deck in my favor?”

Albus’ frown deepened as he motioned for the man to continue.

“But why bore you with the details?  Suffice to say, you most unmistakably lost your last war.  In fact, you did so poorly that you even left chores for the next generation to clean up after you.”

Albus’ frown graduated into a full born scowl.  Yet, he held his silence.

“We both know the time is coming where you must decide.  What is more important?  The second, third, and fifth chances of those who have abused their power?  Or, the first chances of the innocents they will surely slaughter?”

“I don’t think you understand the complexity of the situation.”

“Perhaps, and yet, you no longer understand the simplicity of it.”  The stranger lifted his hand as if to snap his fingers.  “Sometimes, all it takes is to sit down and honestly ask yourself what you are actually fighting for.”

Suddenly as alone as he had intended, Dumbledore sat back in his chair.  No longer were his thoughts of breakfast.  A new player had taken to the game board, and the color of his pieces was unknown.
<->
Breakfast passed slowly.  The first-years had gotten to the great hall way too early, and since they had nowhere to be or anything in particular to do, they waited for the day to start getting exciting.  There was enough time that Ron and Apple Bloom actually had their fill.  This also resulted in plenty of time to chat and get to know each other.  All the while, Scootaloo quietly napped sitting up.

They were all chattering about their hopes and plans for learning magic when Harry noticed Apple Bloom scrutinizing at a bowl of yogurt.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when he noticed her staring.

“For some reason, Ah have the urge to slather this on Winona, an’ it’s not even raining.”

Even Sweetie Belle looked at her weirdly for that explanation.

Surprisingly, Ginny soon found herself the center of attention.  Even though she had expected Harry to be the focal point, the first-years were more intrigued by the girl who had made it to Hogwarts a year early than normal.  There were questions on whether she was exceptionally powerful, smart, or just rich and influential.  The revelation that she was just there because her core was sufficiently mature so that she might be able to handle the classes was more than a little bit of a letdown for all.

As they talked, the hall steadily filled with other students and the chattering increased.  At one point, Professor McGonagall traversed the table to hand out schedules for the coming term.  A preliminary inspection revealed that, since the current day was Friday, the Gryffindor first-years were to have double potions right off the bat, a development that both filled Apple Bloom with joy, and caused Ron to pout.  Apparently, he had heard stories about potions from his older brothers and was not keen on the idea of the class.

With a path now laid out, the Gryffindor first-years, as a group, returned to their dorms to retrieve their supplies for class.  They didn’t go unnoticed by the teaching staff.  Apparently, the entire Gryffindor allotment of first-years had already banded together.  This could prove to be most interesting and entertaining.  If the headmaster had been present he would most likely have had a twinkle in his eyes.
<->
It was very early in the morning at the Ministry when the head warlock put in a surprise visit.  Immediately, he all but demanded that an unspeakable be provided to lead him to the hall of prophecy.  It took several minutes for one to be located, and Dumbledore was already at the lifts when she arrived.

Down they traveled, and they then traversed the spinning room.  Dumbledore hadn’t even slowed as he led his guide to a particular shelf amongst the multitude of prophecies.  All around them were spheres, filled with swirling gray mist.  Each held a prophecy record collected by the Ministry, each of them a true and unbreakable force.  

A lone sphere broke the pattern.  The clear sphere did not contain the familiar mist at all.  Instead, there was a collection of rainbow-colored dust coating the bottom of the interior.  

Dumbledore’s gaze bore into the sphere’s body, an expression of horror clearly gracing his features.  So shocking was the sight that his unspeakable guide nearly wet herself in fright.

As the foundation of all his plans lay before him in ruin, Dumbledore felt doubt.  He felt worry.  He felt fear.
<-> 
Elsewhere, the sun reclaimed the sky, bringing with it no relief.

Loyalty wept.

Laughter lamented.

Magic agonized.

Kindness floundered.

Honesty denied.

And Generosity despaired.

And yet, friendship never faltered, never wavered, and never admitted defeat.
> Chapter 9: Wild Blue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for the first-years to find their way back to the Gryffindor tower.  Aside from the one staircase that decided to move just before they got on it, the trip was uneventful.  The fillies didn’t even panic at the sight of the moving portrait that guarded their common room; the novelty of talking pictures was growing thin.

In the girls’ dorm room, supplies were soon retrieved from trunks.

“Um, girls,” Apple Bloom said as she made a discovery, “what are we supposed to carry all this in?”

“Didn’t you buy bookbags?” Ginny asked, holding up her new carry-all, which Percy had thought to provide.

Three simultaneous face hooves answered that question.  It was at that point the fillies learned that face hoofing as a human was significantly less painful than as a pony.

“Well, no use worrying about that now.”  Hermione went straight for the practical solution.  “Until you can get some, we’ll just have to split your supplies up among the rest of us.  Come on now; we need to be getting on to class.”

Chattering excitedly, the girls joined the boys in the common room, and off they went to their first class.

Soon enough, the Gryffindor first-years entered the potions classroom in the dungeons.

“Okay, it’s not like I’m not detecting a pattern here,” Seamus was saying, “but really?  We had to climb up a flight of stairs, from a tower mind you, to reach the dungeons.”

“What bothers me,” Harry put in his two cents as they entered, “is that the portrait said, ‘On Tuesdays and Fridays,’ as if the path changes every day.”

The Gryffindor first-years surveyed the classroom.  The laboratory area was split in two; each side had workstations set in a tiered semicircle facing the desk in front of the blackboard on the far wall.  Looking to the right side, they saw that the green-trimmed students had claimed that half of the room, doubling up, two to a workstation.

“Blimey, we got potions with the snakes.”  Ron deflated at the sight of them.

“So?” Sweetie Belle asked, looking at the members of the other house.  “I’m sure we can all be friends.”  This brought sneers from several of the so-called new friend material.

“Not likely,” Ron disagreed.

“Oh, look,” Scootaloo chimed in.  “It’s the Diamond Tiara wannabe.”

“Oh look,” Draco Malfoy sneered in return.  “It’s the purple-haired freak.”

“Yer giving him too much credit, Scoots.”  Apple Bloom observed, “Diamond Tiara would have least come up with a decent and original insult.”

“Yeah.”  Scootaloo joined Apple Bloom at a workstation.  “I guess you’re right.”  From across the room, Draco continued to scowl at them, unaccustomed to being blown off so casually.

The Gryffindors then ignored the other house as they claimed their workspace.  Parvati and Lavender were one pair, with Dean and Seamus as another.  Ginny managed to sidle up to Harry while Ron settled on Hermione as his partner.  This left Sweetie Belle to pair with Neville.

<->

Alice Rutter felt the hairs on her arms stiffen as she sipped her morning tea.  She hadn’t taken divinations when she had been at Hogwarts, but she recognized an omen when one presented itself.  Something had just stirred the winds of fate, and had done so in a very significant manner.  Change was coming, be it for good or ill; she was sure of it.

She ran her hand through her long raven locks and picked up the Daily Prophet, scrutinizing it for anything out of the ordinary.

<->

“Ah, yes.  Harry Potter.  Our new celebrity,” the potions professor drawled out.  Scootaloo thought he appeared rather like what a thestral would look like if they were a human.

Pacing the front of the class the professor continued, “You are here to learn the subtle science and the exact art of potion making.  As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic.  I don’t expect you to really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.”

Apple Bloom leaned over and whispered to Scootaloo, “I have got to get him in a room with Zecora.  Now there’s a conversation I’d love to witness.”

“Miss Bloom!” Professor Snape snapped from the front of the room.  “Is there something you wanted to share with the rest of the class?”

“Um, no.”  Apple Bloom recognized the universal teacher reaction to students talking in class.

“Very well,” Snape all but growled, “five points from Gryffindor.  Now, where was I?  If you aren’t as big as bunch of dunderheads as I usually teach, I can instruct you on how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death.”

The class stared with rapt attention, not wanting to be the next to lose points.  “Now then, Potter!  What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry looked at the teacher in confusion as both Hermione and Apple Bloom shot their hands into the air.  “I don’t know, sir,” he replied.

With a sneer Professor Snape said, “Tut, clearly fame isn’t everything,” as he ignored the girls’ hands.

“But sir!” Apple Bloom was not to be denied.  “How could he answer that without knowing whether the wormwood was Zebracan or Euricoltiean?”

<->

Alice had found nothing in the paper that stood out.  Yet, she could not shake the feeling from earlier.  Something was imminent; she didn’t need to be a seer to know that.  But what it could possibly be, she had no idea.

She hurried through her small hut to her bookcase; there was a book on divination in it somewhere.  Maybe she could find answers waiting there.

<->

Professor Snape had set them to make a potion for curing boils.  Harry was finding the exercise to be painless, despite the constant hovering of the teacher.  The Dursleys had made him cook since he could reach the stove with a stool, the result being an unusual level of competence.  His partner Ginny had skills and knowledge she had gained from helping her mother around the house.  Together, they found the assignment was well within their abilities.

Harry was removing the cauldron from the flames so they could add the quills when he glanced over at the efforts of Neville and Sweetie Belle.  A steady, thin plume of bright purple smoke streamed from their cauldron.  There might even have been an occasional sparkle dancing in the escaping smoke.

“How in the. . .” Snape started as he stalked over to investigate.  There should have been no way to get that particular reaction from the given ingredients.  The fool children must have introduced a component not on the ingredient list.  Still, Snape could think of none that would have produced that result.  Here was something new.

Neville and Sweetie Belle were warily watching their efforts with concern plastered on their faces.  This was not how the instructions had said the potion was supposed to look.  They were going to fail on their first attempt.

Unsure what the effects the current fiasco might inflict if allowed to contact skin, Snape waved the children away from the potential danger.  Brandishing his wand with the intent to vanish the contents, he peered into the vessel.  Inside was a light blue, gelatinous mass, bubbling slowly.  The distinct scent of menthol wafted pleasantly outward.  Contemptuously, he raised his wand to be rid of the mess.

It is safe to say that he was caught wholly off guard when the potion decided to make a break for it.

<->

Nothing.  Alice had flipped through her one and only book on divination to no avail.  As she had done so, the sense of change had lessened.  Now, she wasn’t even sure if it had been real or not.  Should she ignore it?  After all, she had no solid proof of anything, just an overpowering feeling of. . . something.  She didn’t even know what to call it.

<->

“It’s got me! It’s got me!”  Daphne Greengrass hopped around on one foot while violently shaking the other.  Trying desperately to dislodge the blue mass wrapped around her ankle, she screamed, “Ow!  It bit me!”

Carefully, Snape took aim and let loose, “Stupefy!”  A menacing red bolt leapt from his wand only for the blob to disengage from the terrified girl before the spell arrived.  Cleared of her attacker, Daphne was the only target remaining.  Upon being struck by the bolt, she stopped screaming and dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Slytherins where hopping around madly as the ridiculously fast slime creature weaved in and out amongst their feet.  Somehow, as it dodged the flailing feet, it found Crabbe’s pants leg to travel up.

Now, Vincent Crabbe was a first-year, but he was all too familiar with cheap shots and low blows.  A recent stint at ferret legging only heightened his awareness of the unspeakable pain to which he might be subjected.  A rabid ferret looked tame compared to the blue slime.

He started dancing around wildly as the invader threatened his most private regions.  “Screaming like a little girl” would have been an acceptable description of his vocals if the word “shrieking” wasn’t much more accurate.  

Snape rushed forward to assist as Crabbe managed to rip his own pants off.  The now-exposed slime froze for a moment.  Crabbe managed to flip the slime away from himself, launching the little monster directly at Millicent Bulstrode.  Luckily, she managed to get her hand up in time.  Instead of latching onto her face, the slime wrapped around the offered appendage.

It was Millicent’s turn to dance, shaking her hand wildly trying to dislodge the lump of blue.  All the while, the scent of menthol was becoming stronger.

“Hold still!” Snape commanded.  When she froze, he cast, “Stupefy.”  This time, Millicent flopped to the ground, and the blue slime darted over to where the Gryffindors were gathered.  As one, the members of the house of the brave, broke for cover.

“Stupefy!” was heard again, and this time Dean joined those taking a nap.  As the boy fell, his body knocked Ron off balance, forcing the redhead to spin and fall on his own rear.  There was a loud snap and a violent release of magical energy which threw Ron in the air, where he twirled in a helpless pirouette.  His graceless landing still saw him back on his feet

Apparently fed up with the whole ordeal, the slime found a small hole in the castle wall and disappeared from view.

Glaring angrily, Snape revived the fallen students.  Dumbledore had specifically said not to take too many points from the fillies since it was unsure how they might react.  Good diplomatic relations would be wor. . . ah, you know what?  Bugger it.  Bugger it to hell.

“Mr. Longbottom, Miss Belle,” Snape barked, “fifty points from Gryffindor for creating a new lifeform.”

The two looked at him in dismay.  Then, he added, “Each.”

“Awwwww!” Sweetie Belle intoned, looking at her feet, and Neville just gulped.

“My wand!” Ron wailed, holding up the two halves of it for all to see.

“You had your wand in your back pocket?”  Snape sneered at student.  “That is a good way to lose part of your posterior.”

“Ha!  Your family isn’t going to be able to eat for a week if they buy you a new one,” Malfoy taunted the misfortunate Weasley.

“You’re right,” Parvati said in a stage whisper to Apple Bloom.  “He completely lacks originality.”

“I’ll buy him a new one!” Sweetie Belle spoke up, raising her hand for acknowledgement.  “It’s kinda my fault it got broke, anyway.

Snape eyed the children in his class.  There was an hour yet of class left, but it was obvious no more work would be done this day, not to mention, he’d have to hunt down that abomination.  Unfortunately, he could not send the Weasley off to his next class wandless, especially since he himself was partially responsible for the destruction of Ron’s former focus.

“Very well.”  Snape commanded, “The rest of you clean up for the day.  Miss Belle and Mr. Weasley come this way.”  With that, he led the two to his office.

Professor Snape went directly to his fireplace stuck his head into the floo fire, “Rolanda,” the two students heard him say, “I find I must play escort to Diagon Alley.  I need you to watch over the rest of my class for the remainder of the morning.  Once they clean up their stations, they can be sent to lunch.”  A few seconds later he removed head from the green flames.

Facing the students, “I assume you both know how to floo to the Leaky Cauldron.”  When he received nods as an answer, he motioned to the fireplace.

“I thought we’d be done shopping by the time we got to school.” Sweetie Belle muttered just before she took her turn.

Back in the potions classroom, the children began to clean up, with minimum interaction between the houses.  After a couple glances at the hole in the wall, Scootaloo took up an empty cauldron and positioned herself on a stool next to the escape route. “If it comes back out, I’ll get it,” she announced.

<->

Alice opened her front door and found a stranger on her step.  The man was wearing a flattering brown muggle suit.  She smiled politely as she glanced at his mismatched eyes. “Yes?” she said.  “May I help you?”

“Good morning, Miss Rutter.”  The man tilted his head in greeting.  “If I may have some of your time, I do believe you’ll find it most profitable.”

“I’m listening,” she said, not inviting him into her home.  While door-to-door solicitors were unknown in the wizarding world, the man before Alice gave the distinct impression of wanting to sell her something.

“Oh,” the man chuckled at her, “there’s no reason to get your back up, my dear.  I am here to help you.”

“That remains to be seen,” she countered.  “What do you want?”

“I do believe, tea would be a good starting point,” he replied smoothly.

Alice just looked at him, still not willing to invite him in.

“In fact,” he continued, pointing behind her in the direction of her kitchen table, “I do believe I see some set up over there.”

Reflexively, Alice turned to look where he was pointing and saw the man was at her kitchen table pouring tea into a cup for each of them.  Taken aback, she turned back around to check his original position to find him no longer there.  She hadn’t even heard him apparate.

<_>

“Professor Snape,” Sweetie Belle said as they funneled through the archway into Diagon Alley, “while we’re here, may I see about picking up some saddlebags?  Me and the girls forgot to get some earlier.”

“They are referred to as bookbags.”  Snape scowled down at the overly cheerful child.  “Seeing as it will take a little time to outfit Mr. Weasley here, you may atone for your forgetfulness.  Come to the wand shop when you finish.”  Without another word, Snape marched Ron to Ollivander’s

Sweetie Belle had been expecting more resistance, but she wasn’t about to look a gift rose in the petals.  She hurried into the well-known trunk store.

Dylan, the store owner frowned at her entrance.  “Shouldn’t you be in school little miss?” he immediately demanded of her.

“There was an accident.  We had to come here and pick up a new wand for Ron.”  She smiled sweetly as she offered the explanation.

“You were accompanied by a professor?”

“He’s with Ron at the wand store.”

Relaxing, Dylan removed the frown, and his usual jolly features returned. “This would hardly be a wand store.  Did you need your kitchen fixed again, already?”

“We forgot to buy bookbags.” Sweetie averted her eyes in embarrassment.

“Well, you’re in luck.  I sell enchanted bags as well as trunks -- a step above what you’ll find in the general stores.”  Dylan knew a sale when he saw one, “While I don’t have any ready right now, I could get them owled to you at Hogwarts tomorrow.  Since you’re such a good customer, I’ll only charge you seven galleons per bag for my high-end model.”

“Owled?”

Dylan retrieved a catalog from behind the counter and offered it to Sweetie, “Most merchants also do a business by owl.”

Sweetie Belle studied the catalog, “Thank you, that’s actually really good to know.  We’ll take twelve bags, please.”

“Twelve?”  Dylan raised an eyebrow.

“Welcome to Hogwarts gifts.”

Dylan came out from behind the counter.  “I accept the order.”  He bowed slightly.  “Now, let’s get you back to your professor.”

Dylan locked his shop up behind them and then escorted the young girl to Ollivander’s.  He expected to find it to be Professor Flitwick in attendance, since Sweetie Belle had indicated the escort was male.  There was no way this young innocent was in Slytherin.

“So, you were sorted into Ravenclaw?” Dylan inquired politely as they proceeded down the street.

“No, we are in Gryffindor,” Sweetie Belle corrected as she bounced along beside him.

“Oh, then it’s not your head of house with you today.”

“No sir, the accident happened in potions class. “

“Accident?  You weren’t trying to make orange juice, were you?”

“No, but our potion did get a bit aggressive.”  A shake of Sweetie Belle’s head preceded this statement.

“Aggressive?” Dylan, stopped, mid-stride to peer at the little girl.

She looked at her feet in shame and said, “Yes, it even bit one of the Slytherins.”

Dylan could only blink in surprise at Sweetie Belle in response.

<->

Scootaloo perched on her stool, standing, vigilant, over her target.  A cat could not have been readier to pounce.

“Uh, Scoot?” she heard Harry say.

Scootaloo looked up and saw the whole class staring at her.  Sighing, her eyes went half-lidded, and she let the cauldron slip from her grasp.  “Let me guess:  it found another exit and is now behind me ready to attack.”

As one, the entire class nodded.

Without another word, Scootaloo made a break for it.

<->

The man had been attempting to make small talk, obviously trying to get her to be more comfortable.  Alice was having none of it.  She had been hurt too many times to have trust in anyone, least of all a strange man that just happened to show up at her door.

“Since, I cannot seem to convince you to relax,” the stranger who had still not offered his name, said, “why don’t we instead get to the proposal at hand?”

Out of nowhere, he produced a large book, which he casually placed on the table.  Alice fought the Ravenclaw within her and continued to glare at the intruder.

“Do you know what this is?” the man asked.

“A book,” Alice replied

“Well, of course it is.  How could I have not seen that particular answer coming?”  The man tapped his fingertips together in amusement.  “More precisely it is a book of laws.”  The last word had venom dripping, unmasked, from it.  “All the laws of the Wizengamot to be exact, an unabridged volume.  This book can be found in most homes of the oldest families.  Almost anyone else needs to fill out tedious amounts of paperwork just for a glance.”

Alice now had eyes only for the book.  It was something everyone was supposed to have ready access to, but, in reality, was jealously hoarded by those in power.  She had tried to get her hands on a copy countless times before, but hadn’t had the funds or influence to succeed.

“What do you want from me?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“I want you to use the rules in this book to help me remove cards from the hands of certain parties.”  This time, it was the word “rules” that was soaked in contempt.  “You can finally get your parents some justice, with them being killed for the unthinkable crime of being a pair of successful muggle-born.”

Instead of finding comfort in those words, Alice nearly growled at her visitor, “What is this miracle going to cost me?”

“My dear Alice, it is not my intention that this ‘cost’ you anything.  By helping you, I further my own goals.”  He leaned forward in his chair.  “You have my word that I attach no malice toward you in my actions here today; in fact, if, for some unforeseen reason, you come into hardship in the process of helping me, I will do my best to aid you, up to the point of removing you from Britain and establishing you comfortably in a new and safe locale.”

Alice still was not persuaded, but she was coming around.  She would hear the man out.

<->

Scootaloo dodged left and darted up the shelves of a supply cabinet.  Half way up, she dislodged a large jar, causing it to plummet groundward.  The charm for unbreakability saved the glass container, but the fall caught the edge of the jar’s lip, causing it to pop its lid and bounce forcefully back into the air.  In that fashion, it spewed its semi-aqueous contents all over the room and its occupants.

“Of course,” Scootaloo muttered as she found her perch, “it just had to be tree sap.”

Below her, in the room, the shrieks and scrabbling continued.

<_>

Ron was grinning as they left the wand shop.  He had a new wand and a new holster for it.  It was a pity he hadn’t been able to keep his previous wand for even one day, but this new one felt just right in his hand.

Scowling the whole way, Snape herded his charges to be flooed back to the castle.

<->

Rolanda Hooch briskly strode down the halls of the Hogwarts castle.  She had received a floo from Severus asking her to watch over his remaining class session.  He hadn’t explained why, and she was willing to bet there was an interesting story attached.  As she rounded the corner to potions class, her peripheral vision caught a flash of light blue on the floor to her right. When she focused on the spot, nothing was there.  Shrugging, she turned and opened the door to the potions classroom.

The room was in complete disorder.  Off to one side, the first-year known as Scootaloo had climbed up on top a supply cabinet and was currently sharing her perch with Millicent Bulstrode.  

Most of the potions equipment had been knocked off the workstations, which were now being occupied by the remainder of the class instead.  

On one table in particular, Apple Bloom had jumped up and planted her feet firmly on the furniture.  Hermione proved that she was indeed a smart and quick learner, and climbed onto the redhead’s back.  Ginny, deciding not to knock it until she tried it, had done her best squirrel impression and was now atop Hermione.

Harry had found that Lavender wanted to copy the formation, and now had the girl trembling on his back.

On another station, Pansy Parkinson was shivering without a top.  Her robe and blouse had been thrown to the other side of the class, in an obvious act of desperation.

Most surprisingly, the entire room and all its occupants were covered with an unknown, sticky substance.

Upon the door opening, each and every student had turned, wide-eyed, toward the movement.

Madam Hooch examined the carnage and asked, “What?  Did you see a mouse?”

<->

By lunch, the first-years had been cleaned, and they were all sitting at their house tables.  They had varying expressions of shell shock, except for Ron, who was showing off his new wand, and Sweetie Belle, who had discovered hamburgers.

“Oh, that reminds me,” she said after swallowing a big bite of her burger, “Harry, may I please borrow your owl?”

“Um, no.”  Harry stared at her.  “Hedwig likes to eat bacon; she does not go good with it.”

As Sweetie Belle’s eyes glazed over slightly, Ron whined, “Harry!  Don’t be giving her ideas!”

Returning to reality, Sweetie Belle, with a note of hurt in her voice, said, “I wasn’t going to eat her, I just want her to carry a letter.”

“You can use the school owls in the owlery,” Hermione piped up.

“Great!” Sweetie exclaimed.  “Hermione, may I please borrow some paper and quill?”

Thankfully, earlier Scootaloo had mentioned that writing with one’s fingers was the way to go, so Sweetie Belle drew no attention as she wrote.

Dear Rarity,

I’m not even sure if this will work, so I’ll keep it short.

The crusaders and I have arrived at school safely and have just completed our first class of the day.  There was a little excitement, but otherwise it went well. That is mostly well, nopony got too hurt.  Well, Daphne got bit on her ankle but that healed itself rather quickly.

You can send letters back with the owl.  I need to run now, since I have to make it to the owlery and then to my next class.

Love,

Sweetie Belle

With letter tucked into a pocket, Sweetie followed the other females of the first-year Gryffindors, seeking out the owlery.  The group, being composed of girls, were actually willing to ask for directions.  They quickly found the birds.

As they climbed the stairs into the chamber, one of the owls noticed who was coming and frantically made her way to the far side of the owlery in a flash of white feathers, putting as many other owls between herself and the newcomers as possible.

“We just tie it to an owl’s leg?” Scootaloo was asking as they choose one, a large barn owl.

“Shouldn’t we all send letters?” Apple Bloom suggested as Sweetie Belle attached the letter.

“We don’t even know if this will work yet,” Sweetie Belle countered.

“Why wouldn’t it work?” Parvati asked, confused.

Without a sound the owl took off and flew out the window.  A few feet from the egress it pivoted at an impossible direction some forty-two degrees and seemed to fly toward yesterday as it just vanished.

The girls all gasped, astonished by the display.  There was a ten second stretch of silence.

“Well, either that worked.” Scootaloo started.

“Or we owe the school a new owl.” Apple Bloom finished.

A few more seconds of silence passed, and Sweetie Belle added, “I wonder if we can owl-order owls.”

<->

She lay on her couch, staring at nothing.  Half of her hide was a grimy off-white, the other half, where she had slipped and fallen, was completely mud encrusted.  The less said about her mane and tail, the better.

They had forced her to go get some sleep and get some food in her.  She found she could do neither.  She could only lie there and stare, uncaringly ruining her furniture.

She had read about it before, losing a filly or a colt.

They had used the word “devastated” a lot, a description that failed to come remotely close.  It lacked connection to the reality.

She lay there as the tears silently flowed.

Suddenly, an owl flew in one of the windows and landed near her.  She almost ignored it, but it persisted offering her a leg.  With what little focus she could muster, she saw that the leg had a letter tied to it.  Who used owls to deliver letters?

She didn’t have the strength to use her magic to retrieve the missive, so she used her mouth.  The bird, its work done, took off and exited the way it came.

With trepidation, she opened the letter, praying for the best, fearing the worst.

She read what was written, her eyes watering the entire time, then a word weakly left her lips.

“School?”

With that word, hope returned, exhaustion won the fight, and consciousness fled.

Generosity slept.
> Chapter 10: Plotting Along
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next class of the day turned out to be Charms.  This time around, they had been grouped with the yellow-trimmed students, Hufflepuffs.  The boys were already seated by the time the Gryffindor girls made an appearance, and, unlike Potions with the Slytherins, there were no signs of hostility as the seats were filled.

Scanning the room, Ginny frowned as she noticed her brother had taken up residence next to Harry.  Disgruntled that her first choice had been removed, she decided to sit up front, next to Hermione.  

When class started, the smallest human stallion they had yet seen entered and called for the students to quiet down.  Apple Bloom remembered seeing him sitting at the head table with the rest of the teachers, so he wasn’t too much of a surprise.  The small stallion had a distinctive quality about him.  Though he was obviously fully grown, he was smaller even than the girls' human forms.  If somepony were to ask her, she’d say he was more on the scale of a goblin than a human.

“Good afternoon, class,” he said as, with a flick of his wand, he stacked together a couple of large books and casually stood on them.  Apple Bloom was taken aback by the improvised stool.  She knew that if Twilight had been present, the mare would be throwing a fit.  “Welcome to First-Year Charms.  My name is Professor Flitwick.”  The small stallion concluded his introduction.

The diminutive professor then swiftly took roll, interrupting the process only when he fell off his perch in shock upon reaching Harry’s name.  With formalities soon out of the way, he introduced the students to the concept of proper wand gestures.  The class was enthralled by his enthusiasm and good humor, making the experience both fun and exciting.  Well, not as exciting as Potions had been, but there was a lot of actual learning going on.

Halfway through the period, Sweetie Belle stopped to closely examine her wand.  This was the first time she had really tried using it since she had purchased it.  The only real use had been manipulating her trunk; otherwise, it had stayed in her holster.

The more she handled it, the more she became aware of how, to her magic, it felt like her own horn.  Only, at the same time, it felt completely and utterly unlike her horn.  The sensation was oddly wonderful, in an altogether mundane sort of way.  Contemplating the piece of wood, Sweetie Belle had no idea what to make of it.

<->

A single pony trotted down the streets of Ponyville, sharing greetings with those she passed.  One glance would show that she had an immaculate white coat, which complemented her pale pink mane pleasantly.  To say the least, Nurse Redheart’s day had be interesting; she had spent the morning playing an invigorating game of “Drug the Element Bearer.”  Without exception, all six of them had pushed themselves well past normal pony limits, and were on the road to serious self-inflicted harm.  Backed by the mayor’s approval, it was Nurse Redheart’s job to intervene.  It was a job that she was good at, so much so that she was currently five for six.

Unsurprisingly, Rainbow Dash had been the first to fall.  The cyan pony had been requesting that more and more coffee be brought to her, to aid her in her watch.  Consequently, it had been a simple thing to replace her latest batch with decaf, plus an additive that “encouraged” nap time.  One mug later and snores could be heard plainly, even by the ponies on the ground.

Applejack had been next on the list, she and her brother, both.  Each of the siblings had been undertaking solo forays into the forest, insisting that they did not want to be slowed by escorts.  Luckily, they had to come out periodically for updates and, hopefully, news pertaining to the safe return of the fillies.  During their infrequent check-ins, they would wolf down whatever food that anypony happened to present to them.  Again, it had been simple to add a little extra to their most recent meals.  The only hiccup to her plan came when Redheart had done her best to delay their return to the forest.  She didn’t want them to end up taking their naps in the forest proper.  The result was for Apple Jack to regard Redheart with suspicion.  The apple farmer had bluntly asked the nurse if she was attempting to drug the two of them or something.

To this Redheart had pleasantly responded, “No, why would I do something like that?”  

Of course, lying to the Element of Honesty had been an effort in futility, no matter how tired that element might been.  At the same time, it didn’t matter, as it was too late, and the sleeping agent was already working its magic.  Smirking to herself, Redheart had needed the help of four of the guard ponies to move the siblings off to their respective beds.

Twilight had been as easy as Rainbow Dash.  Even though she was assuredly the smartest pony around, she was prone to routine -- a few drops in the tea Spike had been about to serve to her and she was out cold.  Little more effort was required to tuck her into her own bed.

Thankfully, Fluttershy was always the type to avoid conflict when possible.  So, when Nurse Redheart had asked her to open wide and say “ah”, Fluttershy had done as she had been asked.  Without any fuss, Redheart had administered the drug directly, and Fluttershy was soon fast asleep.

Pinkie had been. . . well, Pinkie had been Pinkie.  It was almost comical how many near misses Redheart had been forced to endure before managing to score a hit.  Someday, in the distant future, she would look back on the experience and laugh, but, for now, the pink party pony was prostrated and plopped on a prepared portable pallet, proving positively precious.

All that was left was Rarity.  Luckily, she had already been implored by the mayor to go home and get some rest.  She had given in to the argument that to do otherwise would only hinder the search.  The lack of sleep was significantly slowing down her efforts at that point.  The mare, with her ears drooping and her tail dragging, had complied.  As it now stood, Redheart was on her way to Rarity’s place to ensure sleep was achieved.

Upon her arrival, Nurse Redheart knocked politely on the Carousel Boutique’s entrance.  When she received no reply, she entered anyway.  It did not take her long to locate her patient laid out on the couch.  One look at the poor mare showed the rise and fall of her barrel, denoting deep slumber.  Humming to herself, Redheart retrieved a stethoscope from her saddle bag, happy that it looked like drugs were not going to be needed here.  

Ignoring the filth covering the normally pristine pony, Redheart checked for proper breathing and heart rhythm.  In the process, she noticed a half-crumpled letter resting under Rarity’s chin.  The poor dear must have fallen asleep reading.  It wasn’t curiosity that compelled Redheart to retrieve the letter.  As a medical professional, she knew Rarity was in a very fragile state.  As such, the introduction of bad, or even good, news could be extremely overwhelming for the mare.

A quick read through of the letter proved that it needed to be brought to the attention of Mayor Mare as quickly as possible.  Hopefully, a happy conclusion was on the horizon.  The one setback being, Redheart had to confirm the letter was new, and not memorabilia from happier times.  She gently prodded Rarity with her hoof, hating that she had to wake her patient.

Slowly, Rarity’s eyes fluttered open as Redheart prodded her with increasing vigor.  The fashionista fixed her distressed gaze on the nurse, “Was it real?  Did I dream it?”  She begged, “Tell me!  Did an owl really deliver a letter from Sweetie Belle?”

Nodding her head comfortingly, Nurse Redheart said, “Yes dear, it was real.  Now I need you to open up and say ‘Aaaah’.”

Rarity did as she was told, and soon Redheart left the establishment, six for six.

<->

Alice sat at her desk and studied the book left for her by the stranger.  He had done more than just provide the tome; he had told her exactly where to look.  He even suggested to her the best things to say and helped come up with compelling counter arguments she would not otherwise have thought of.  His help had been invaluable.

With nary a sound, Alice read with the intensity of a Ravenclaw, only stopping to occasionally daydream of the chaos she was preparing to unleash upon those who had wronged her.  She knew justice would be had.

<->

After Charms, they had a free period, effectively freeing them for the weekend, the one exception being twelve inches on the most commonly used wand motions.

“So?” Apple Bloom asked as the first-year collective gathered up their things in preparation of leaving class.  “Any ideas on something exciting to do now?”

“How about we go find the library!” Hermione immediately suggested.

“She did say ‘exciting’.”  Ron vetoed the idea, then, to no one’s surprise suggested, “We could play Quidditch, there’s plenty of light left.”

Scootaloo shook her head with regret.  “We don’t have access to the brooms until after the twins and Percy finish their classes.”

“Brooms?  First-years aren’t allowed to own brooms!”  Hermione was scandalized by the very notion of breaking the rules and somehow sneaking a broom on campus.

“But we can borrow them from upperclassmen,” Ginny grinned wickedly as she explained to Hermione, “and upper years can own more than one.”

“That’s . . . that’s . . .”  Hermione did her best to wrap her mind around the concept.  “Cheating!”

“Nah,” Apple Bloom corrected, “it’s just creative rule-following.”

In the front of the class, Professor Flitwick suddenly snapped his fingers, remembering something important.  “Miss Aloo, Miss Belle, and Miss Bloom, if you could please stay after class.”  His declaration received curious looks from the rest of the class as they filed out and left the three named victims behind.

“Yes, Professor?” Sweetie Belle said hesitantly, afraid that she was about to get in even more trouble for the potions incident.

“No need to be nervous,” Professor Flitwick said comfortingly as he made his way over to the three girls.  “Due to your circumstances, Professor McGonagall has asked me to see you to the clinic after class.  While we expect no trouble, it wouldn’t hurt for Madam Pomfrey to have some baseline readings, just in case.  Please follow me.”

The three fillies just nodded in acceptance and followed the professor out of the classroom.  After several flights of stairs and some twists and turns, they arrived at the infirmary.  Like all its kind, it smelled faintly of disinfectant and favored the white coloring that was so common within the healing profession.  Inside, they were greeted by an older human mare.

“Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Flitwick greeted, “I have brought your afternoon appointment.”

Madam Pomfrey smiled as, all the while, she studied the children accompanying him.  “Thank you, Professor.”  Then, turning her focus to the girls, she continued, “Professor McGonagall has asked me to give you each a once-over, to confirm your health, just a precautionary measure.”  She then patted an examining table.  “So, who would like to go first?”

Suddenly, Scootaloo stumbled forward as a certain redhead looked at the ceiling and whistled.  Scootaloo scowled at Apple Bloom for a second then, in defeat, said, “I guess that would be me.”

Madam Pomfrey shortly had the girl on the exam table and was scanning Scootaloo’s body using her wand.  Frowning slightly, she made notes on a clipboard and then went back to examination.  As she scanned, the look of worry increased on her face.  With obvious frustration, she put her wand away and said, “A trip to St. Mungo’s may be in order, Professor Flitwick.  There are a few unusual readings that don’t make sense.”

Professor Flitwick actually chuckled at the suggestion.  “Before we resort to that,” he said, before turning to the table.  “Miss Aloo, if you would please remove your necklace for Madam Pomfrey?”

With her mouth half open, Madam Pomfrey stared for a full minute, then said, “She is rather cute, isn’t she.”

Professor Flitwick studied his student then concurred, “Very much so.”

“That’s an awfully bright shade of orange,” Madam Pomfrey observed.

Scootaloo looked at her own coat and said, “I’ve always thought it suited me just fine.”

At a loss on what to say in response, Madam Pomfrey once more scanned her patient.  This time, she stopped, her wand hovering over the little filly’s wings.  “Are your wings the normal size for a child your age?”

Scootaloo promptly took on the attitude of a kicked dog, holding back tears as she shook her head silently.

“I see.”  Madam Pomfrey patted her on the head.  “That does explain the readings from earlier.  I am truly sorry; I had to bring it up.”

“It’s all right,” Scootaloo sniffed.  “I’m used to it.”

“It’s obviously not all right,” Madam Pomfrey firmly corrected.  “We shall talk of this later, once I’ve gone over my readings.”

Scootaloo nodded her head and hopped off the table, her hooves clicking on the tile as she went to stand by her friends, both of whom sank to their knees and administered hugs.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick somberly watched the scene, neither wanting to disrupt the show of support.

After a reasonable span of time passed, Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat and said, “Miss Bloom, was it?  I do believe you volunteered to be next.”

Hanging her head slightly, Apple Bloom mounted the table.

Once again, Madam Pomfrey scanned her patient, her wand glowing slightly as it moved.  Eventually she nodded her head in satisfaction and made more notes on her clipboard.  “Now remove your necklace please.”

There was less of a pause this time.  “No wings on you?”

“No ma’am.”  Apple Bloom shook her head, her bow swaying behind her head.  “I’m an earth pony.”

"I see.”  Madam Pomfrey smiled.  “And a healthy earth pony you are indeed.”

“I’m an Apple,” Apple Bloom said smugly.

“I thought you said you were an earth pony,” Madam Pomfrey joked as she began probing Apple Bloom’s little yellow form.

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo giggled at their embarrassed friend.

“And last, but not least, Miss Belle,” Madam Pomfrey said upon finishing up with Apple Bloom.

After hopping onto the table, Sweetie Belle was subjected to a once-over as well. The survey caused Madam Pomfrey’s mouth to form a small frown as she made notes.  Obviously, there were readings she wasn’t happy with. “And now your necklace.” She commanded.

This time, Madam Pomfrey barley blinked at the change.  “You’re a unicorn?”

“Yes ma’am.”  Sweetie Belle nodded her head in confirmation.

“That would explain the readings I received earlier.”  Madam Pomfrey also nodded her head, losing the frown.  “Although, you do have many notable differences from a normal unicorn, I should have surmised as much before your transformation.”  She made more notes on her clipboard.  “One such difference is your blood.”

"My blood?”  Sweetie Belle looked up at the witch studying her.

“Yes, the unicorns normally found in the forest, for instance, have blood of a much more mystical nature than yours.  But, that is neither here nor there.  Your tests show that you are quite healthy at this point in time.”

Seemingly satisfied with the information recorded, Pomfrey returned the necklaces to the little ponies.  With a critical eye, she watched them take on human form.  “If you find you're having any difficulties maintaining your change, or have any -- and I do mean any -- pain or discomfort, you are to come to me immediately.  There shall be no ‘but I didn’t want to bother you’ nonsense.”

The girls all nodded their heads obediently.

“Now go and enjoy your weekend.”  Pomfrey fixed them with one more smile before they scampered out the infirmary door.

After the girls had left, Madam Pomfrey turned to Professor Flitwick and raised one eyebrow.  She plainly wanted an explanation.

<->

“At least we know they aren’t lost in the Everfree,” Mayor Mare said to the lieutenant in charge of the search team as she shuffled some paperwork on her desk.  “You may recall your scouts and stand down.”

“Has anypony informed the Elements of this discovery?” the large sturdy grey stallion, known as Dragnet, inquired.

“Rarity knows; the others will be told once they get some sleep.”  Mayor Mare sighed.  “Meanwhile, a letter has been sent to the princesses updating them on the situation.”  After peering at a paper on her desk she added, “No owl was found at Rarity’s, so at this point, we do not know if she sent a reply or not.”

Dragnet ran a hoof under his chin thoughtfully.  “As you said, at least we now know they are not lost in the Everfree.”

<->

That night, after supper, Lavender, Parvati, Hermione, and Sweetie Belle were poring over the trunk catalog while the rest of the first-years were having a go at playing exploding snaps.  It was noticeable that none of them were especially skilled at the game.  This explained why Ron’s hair was making a valiant effort to change from red to black, and why Harry was missing half of an eyebrow.  Additionally, somewhere between the second and fifth round, Apple Bloom’s ribbon had fallen in battle, and Dean was currently sporting a face covered in soot.  All in all, it was good clean fun, only without the clean.

Without warning, the Weasley twins integrated themselves into the gathering.

“It was rather peculiar,” one of them started.

“. . . to see how far behind in points, we are . . .”

“. . . compared to the rest of the houses.”

“Would any of you happen to know . . .”

“. . . how this came to be?”

All the first-years went still and remained quiet, not one of them wanting to be the one to share the news.

“It would appear, dear brother,” maybe George said.

“That we have indeed found the source of the anomaly,” the other agreed.

Then, as one, they turned to the first-years and sternly said, “Spill it.”

Lavender was the girl who decided that they’d find out anyway.  “Professor Snape was just angry because Neville and Sweetie Belle sicced their pet potion on the Slytherins.”

The twins shared another glance.  “They did now?”

“So that’s why . . .”

“. . . the greatest loss of points . . .”

“. . . on the first day of classes . . .”

“. . . was achieved by first-years?”

“Actually, back in 1765, Taurus Black lost 215 points on his first day, so these two were nowhere near the record at fifty each,” a female voice enlightened everyone in earshot.

Everybody in the common room, who had already been listening to the twins, turned their attention to a certain bushy-haired girl.

“What?” Hermione said, shuffling slightly and hiding her hands behind her back.  “It’s in ‘Hogwarts a History’.”

Everyone continued to stare at her.

Hermione stamped her foot and put her hands on her hips.  “You didn’t think I wasn’t going to look that up, did you?”

“Right then,” one of the twins, let’s call him George for the time being, said, “so the second largest.”

“Yentl Singh, 1846.”  Hermione shook her head.

“Okay, let’s skip the countdown.”  George grinned at the interruption

“What place did they manage?” Fred finished for him.

“27th,” Hermione promptly answered.

“Okay.”  Fred rubbed his hands together.  “When you put it that way . . .”

“. . . it doesn’t sound so bad.”

“You two just need to work harder . . .”

“. . . if you want to break records.”

“But we want . . .”

“. . . details.”

<->

Applejack snorted herself awake.  One second she was asleep, the next she sat bolt upright, her mind sharper than any drug-addled mind had any right to be.  Distressed, she saw that they had let her sleep the whole day away -- the whole bucking day.  She knew why they had done it, but she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to forgive them.

Without a word, she leapt from her bed, grabbed her hat, and raced down the stairs.  There, waiting in the family room, was Granny, rocking peacefully in her chair.  The ancient mare didn’t even look up as she said, “Slow down thar; the youngun’s are safe.”

Applejack skidded to a halt, relief filling her every fiber.  She turned to her elder, with a look of joy and expectation on her face.

<->

The early evening was still comfortable this time of year, just perfect for sitting at one of the café’s outdoor tables.  This was where Mayor Mare found herself.  A meal of stewed tomatoes over hay noodles lay before her, with its tantalizing aromas.

She was just taking a sip of her milk when her ears pivoted to catch a sound.  It was just on the edge of her hearing, but she had plainly heard a pony scream.  They had screamed one easily recognizable word.  That word had been, “School?!”

It appeared Nurse Redheart had been correct in her estimates, the mayor mused as she reached for her dinner.  Applejack had been the first to awaken.

<->

It hungered.  For too long had it gone without nourishment.  It needed to feed, and it needed to feed now!

From the shadows, it could sense prey up ahead.  It could practically hear the victim’s blood calling from the very veins through which it flowed.

Soon, the hunter would be sated.  Soon it would have its fill.  As silently as it could manage, it snuck up behind the prey and pounced.

There was a scream and some scrambling; then, the excitement was over as suddenly as it had started.

A female’s voice could be heard to say, “What in the name of Merlin was that!”

“I don’t know,” her companion, a male, replied, “but it bit me on the ankle, it did.”

The hunter retreated from the site of a successful ambush, enjoying the few drops of blood that were its prize.

<->

For the second night in a row, Hermione sat in hot water, surrounded by, dare she hope it, new friends.  Lazily, she soaked in the warmth as the conditioner worked its wonders.  Thinking back to the trunk catalog she asked, “So these are standard six compartment luxury trunks, right?”

“I guess so,” Sweetie Belle replied, only her neck and head above the water line.

“So, does that mean your sixth compartment is set up to house a potions lab?”  Hermione’s curiosity came to the forefront.

Silence met this question for a few seconds until Apple Bloom said, “Let me see if Ah got this straight.  Sweetie Belle owns a kitchen an’ a potions lab?”

Scootaloo groaned and let her head sink below the water.

“Hey!”  Sweetie Belle squeaked as the rest of the first-year Gryffindor girls looked on with varying degrees of horror, “I’m not that bad.”

<->

“School?!”

This time the word came from the direction of the library.  It looked like Twilight had returned to consciousness.

<->

As curfew approached, Gale and Euan entered the Hufflepuff common room, both looked a little frazzled.

With a loud whistle, Euan called for everyone’s attention and announced, “Be careful out in the hallways; there’s something out there.  It’s small and very fast”

“Yeah,” Gale agreed, “it was a regular Speedy Gonzales.”

One of the occupants of the common room, another muggle-born, asked the obvious question, “What, did you see a mouse?”

<->

‘All Ah’m saying, is please have one of us with you ifn’ you go cooking or making potions.”  Apple Bloom reiterated, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and we’re all more than willing to help you learn.”

“Actually,” Hermione agreed, “I wouldn’t mind learning to cook myself.  The best I can do now is burn toast.”

“That’s nothing,” Scootaloo said, patting herself dry with another fluffy towel, “Sweetie Belle has been known to serve toast in a glass, so it wouldn’t leak off the plate.”

“At least it wasn’t burnt,” Sweetie Belle protested.

Ginny wisely took a step away from her.

<->

“School?!”

Ah, that would be Rainbow Dash.  Idly, the mayor wondered if she would be able to hear Fluttershy, or if she should just assume the pegasus was on her way.

<->

Wand brandished, Snape rounded a corner and beheld four sixth-year Ravenclaw students standing around looking wide-eyed, “Have you seen . . .” he started, but stopped as they all raised a hand and pointed down the hallway.

Professor Snape nodded and rushed in the indicated direction.

<->

“Popcorn!!!”

And there was Pinkie’s input.  The mayor used a napkin to wipe the sauce off her muzzle.  Having just finished her meal, she knew now was the time to explain just how much they didn’t know.  Rising and leaving a tip, she headed back to her office.

<->

This time, it was Lavender who was first into the bed, a long day coming to an end.  Soon, when Scootaloo, the next girl in line, was close enough, Lavender snuggled up to her.  She didn’t even stop to ponder how, in just one day, the thought of sleeping with others had become commonplace.

<->

Everywhere, notes covered the table, interspersed were the remains of small snacks.  Tirelessly, Alice reviewed what she had written down and checked it against the open book before her.  She was going to make sure this was perfect, because if she failed, she wouldn’t get a second chance, not with the opposition she was guaranteed to rouse.  This was going to be all that she had hoped for, and more.  Ever since she was old enough to understand, this had been her goal.  Yet, never before had it been even remotely attainable, but change had come.

The knowledge had been hidden, purposefully hidden, by those in power. Unsurprisingly, every Ravenclaw could tell you that knowledge is power.  Now, she had the power!  Her desires were well within her grasp. All she had to do was squeeze.

<->

Mayor Mare sat behind her desk and waited for the occupants to digest the information obtained from the letter.  

“If I recall correctly, the owl did not wait for a reply.  In fact, as soon as I had possession of the letter, it departed,” Rarity was recalling.  Her coat was spotless once more, and her mane and tail had been returned to their accustomed condition.

“Wait! I’m confused.  Are we proud that they’ve taken the initiative to further their own education, or are we upset because they took off for school without telling anypony!”  The question had started out smoothly but by the end Pinkie’s voice had risen a few octaves and she was bouncing in place.

“They are so grounded when they get back.”  Applejack answered Pinkie's question for everypony and was meet with a round of affirming nods.

“I want to know what classes they are taking where somepony could get bitten,” Twilight said as she hit a tangent she couldn’t ignore.

“That don’t matter none at all, right now,” Applejack countered, something else on her mind.  “How do we go about sending a letter when we ain’t got no owl.”

“We do have Owlowiscious,” Fluttershy offered.  “Maybe he’d like to help.”

There was another round of nodding approval as the mares left to implement the plan.  As Mayor Mare watched them exit, she reflected on the one who had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time, a deviation from character that was worrisome.
> Interlude 1:Those Left Behind
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a large and impressive muggle kitchen; black granite graced the counters and the appliances were the stainless steel variety.  In the Altar to Morning, the center counter, a pot of coffee barely finished filling when Emma Granger reached for the nectar.  Early mornings did not really agree with her; as a matter of fact, Emma had a history of arguing with them, arguments she was prone to lose.

Just as she was pouring herself a ration of liquid wakefulness, there came the sound of clicking on the kitchen window, as if someone were tapping on it with their fingernails.  Pulling herself away from coffee, Emma glanced at the window and saw a snowy white owl pecking lightly at the pane.  When the bird saw that it had her attention, it gave three more quick raps on the glass.

Emma smiled to herself; she had been informed about the tendency to use owls as message bearers.  It was a strange and impractical-seeming practice, but if this was how she was to stay in contact with her daughter, she’d get used to it.  Crossing the length of the kitchen, she opened the window and let her morning visitor in.

“Aren’t you just a beautiful thing?” she cooed as the owl took roost on the kitchen island.  “I was told that having owl treats on hand would be a good idea, but I must admit I forgot to purchase them.  I was about to make breakfast, though, and there will be some sausage, if you’d like.

Emma was just talking to talk; she wasn’t awaiting an answer, but the bird bobbed its head and barked at her.  There were no words, but Emma got the distinct impression that even though they weren’t bacon, sausages would be fine.  After blinking at the bird owlishly for a few seconds, she went to the stove and started a fry-up.  Only then did she approach the owl and remove the letter it bore.

Emma had been very wary of the idea of sending her daughter away for schooling.  The thought that she wouldn’t be seeing her offspring for months on end was very disturbing, yet it was offset by the knowledge that she could not help Hermione learn magic.  She and her husband had been aware of that shortcoming for a period well prior to her daughter receiving that letter from the school.  Flying stuffed teddies were rather hard to miss, after all.

It had come as no small relief that there was a community of magic users, albeit a hidden one.  Her daughter would be taught how to use her gifts and not be a danger to herself or others.  Reading through the books her daughter had bought at the magic book store brought some understanding of their ways.  Even though Emma had been forced to wait for her daughter to fall asleep before she could get her hands on “Hogwarts: A History”, the book had given a decent, if not obviously abridged, summary of what life would be like at the school.

Predictably, once she had been made aware of the school’s existence, Emma had dialed up the internet to see what information could be obtained.  What she found there was more than a little disturbing.  A little research showed that the magic community was evidently obsessed with keeping itself secret and, as a result, segregated from non-magical communities.  To maintain that secrecy, they would employ a spell to remove people’s memories, and they would systematically destroy or alter documents pertaining to their existence.

Unfortunately for them, they had yet to comprehend the importance of video cameras, computers, and the internet.  Admittedly, the people writing the newsgroup threads didn’t have all the answers, but they knew where The Leaky Cauldron was, they knew where platform 9 ¾ was, and they knew what the mages who took away memories looked like.  Their veil of secrecy was well and truly ripped away, and the wizards and witches weren’t even aware of that fact yet.   Her daughter would be feeling the effects of that within her lifetime, especially if technology continued to advance as fast as it had been.

Trying not to imagine the worst-case scenarios of what was to come, Emma started to read the letter.  It was exactly as Emma had hoped; the missive was from her daughter, detailing her first day of school.

<->

She arrived early, earlier even than the building was officially open for visitors.  So, she sat by the door with her tail wrapped around her legs and waited.  There had been no more sleep last night; instead, she had been alone with her thoughts.  The result had been the injection of determination to her conviction, and she had concluded she would put this off no longer.

She had scarcely sat before the door was thrown open by a light tan mare with a foal’s bottle and rattle for a cutie mark.  “You’ve come,” the tan mare beamed.  “Come in!  Come in!  We’ve been expecting you!”

Speechless at the unforeseen greeting, she entered and basked in the feeling of home that radiated from within the building.  She would not have thought such a thing possible from such a place.

Silently, and a little nervously, she followed the tan mare who was chattering along, “We knew it was just a matter of time before you came calling.  I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful it is that you finally had your epiphany.  We like to think it was self-evident for everypony to see, but sometimes it takes a little push.”

The visitor let her ears fall, and she barely got the whisper out.  “I thought I’d lost her.”  Then after a deep breath, she said aloud, “I thought I’d never see her again.”

The tan mare nodded, her ears also drooping as she stopped in front of the office door.  “I know; we were all so worried here.  It wasn’t a good week.  The other children were all distraught; a few even refused to eat.”

The visitor continued as if not hearing the words of the tan mare.  “No, that’s wrong.  I didn’t think I had lost her . . . I knew I had lost her.  I kept wishing there was something I could do, something I could have done.  I wished I could have told her just how much she means to me.”  She lifted her head and let her pleading gaze fall fully on the tan mare.  “I wished I had known just how much she meant to me.”

The tan mare perceived that the one before her had gone through a drastic change.  The visitor’s ego had clashed with the understanding of things too important to even be given a proper name, and her ego had lost; overmatched, her ego had been ruthlessly crushed.  Despite this, she had emerged more mature, and, evidently, more willing to undertake responsibility.  

The tan mare opened the door to her office and gestured for her guest to follow.  “Unfortunately, I’ve been down that road myself.  This time, we were lucky; there are second chances available.”

Her guest smiled weakly and said, “That’s right.  I get a second chance.  I won’t let it slip through my hooves.”

The tan mare reached into a drawer and pulled out a packet of papers.  They had been prepared months ago with this individual in mind.  They were just sitting and waiting for this day.  “Sometimes, all it takes for us to commit is the realization that the heart knows what is right even though the head refuses to believe.”

The guest nodded her head as the papers were placed in front of her.  “It’s time to do what I should have done before.”  She started signing the papers that formally began the adoption process.

<->

Vernon Dursley populated his bed as he had a bit of a lie in.  His loving wife had already gotten up to start breakfast a while ago.  She was now forced to do the activity herself, since the boy was no longer present to mess up the meal on a regular basis.  

Vernon grinned to himself as he reflected how life had taken a turn for the better.  True, the boy was off with his unnatural freak friends, learning unnatural freak things, but he wasn’t Vernon’s problem right now.  He wouldn’t be his problem for most of the year.  He could relax and be normal for once, without the worry that the boy would do something freakish.  He’d still have to contend with the hassle during the summer months, but, for now, he was free.

Today he planned to waste the day away watching sports on the telly, a well-earned reward for a hard week put in on the job.

<->

Molly Weasley cooked, what seemed to her, a small breakfast.  It was just for her husband and her; as such it didn’t need to be very much.  

As the bacon fried, she could feel that the house was empty, the unnatural quietness grating at her very nerves.  She was unprepared for the silence.  She had planned on at least one more year, with one more child to keep her company.  Instead, the absence of all of her offspring was a psychological blow, a bittersweet reminder that they had a tendency to grow up, to grow apart and not need their mother anymore.  They had a tendency to live their own lives.

She was so proud of each and every one of them.  Arthur and her may not have been able to give them everything they deserved, but they all had made do with what they had received.  All of them had risen above the norm and were making marks for themselves.  Her oldest had been head boy, and now her youngest was starting school a year early.

Yes, she had been blessed by an assortment of exceptional children . . . if only it didn’t hurt so much letting them grow up.

<->

Applejack paused to survey the hogs as she hauled the slop wagon toward the pigpen.  Many of the chores had been neglected over the course of the week, but the hogs had been fed, if not otherwise cared for.  Today, she’d catch up with the work that had been disregarded.  Nurse Redheart had told her to take the day off, but Applejack knew that hard work was what she needed instead.  It would help her get her mind off just how angry she was.  Never before in her entire life had she been so angry.  Never before in her entire life had she been so relieved.  If Apple Bloom were to show up that very moment, Applejack wasn’t sure if she would tan her little hide or hug her and never let her go.  It was a close call.

Just knowing she was alright was uplifting in a way that only a parent could adequately explain.  Truly, unless you were a parent yourself, you couldn’t actually understand what they were trying to convey to you with that explanation.  Having somepony tell you that they would rather die than have harm come to their children sounds so cliché that it might be easily overlooked as uninspired, or even hollow.  The fact of the matter is that the phrase falls short of conveying the truth behind its meaning.  Many think it is an exaggeration, yet any parent will tell you that it is the unadulterated, plain and simple truth.  Applejack now had a new and profound understanding of that phrase.

Whistling for the pigs’ attention, Applejack began transferring the slop from the cart to the feeding trough using a bucket and her hooves.  This was not a chore you’d want to use your mouth to accomplish.  The hogs, whose only concern was stuffing as much food as possible as fast as possible into their stomachs, came charging at the announcement of a meal.  Grimly, Applejack mechanically went through the motions of the task at hoof while her mind wandered back to the last couple days.  Relief and anger warred with one another.  Halfway to completion, she realized two things.  The first was that she was weary, bone-tired.  The second was that it was no contest at all, she would hug Apple Bloom for all she was worth if she were here right now.  In the end, anger could not compete with love.

<->

Rarity stared at the breakfast she had prepared for herself.  She was both starving and without appetite.  The humor and paradox of the situation did not escape her attention.  

A letter had been sent, but there was no guarantee when or if it would reach the fillies, and no pony knew when they would send another owl.  They may even think that the first owl never arrived since it had failed to return with a reply.

Forcing herself to eat, Rarity still had worries, worries that were easy to deal with compared to what she had experienced over the last several days.  She would recover.

There would be no work done today.  Rarity knew that she didn’t currently have the drive, and she ached in ways she would not have thought possible, both physically and mentally.  No, today was a day to recover.  She would go find Fluttershy, and together they would drag the rest of their friends to the spa for a much-needed relaxation period, even if she had to drag Applejack the entire way in her telekinesis.

<->

Laughter giggled.

Magic hummed.

Kindness loved.

Loyalty planned.

Honesty accepted.

And Generosity healed.

It wasn’t a perfect day, but it was a better day than they had dreamed possible.
> Chapter 11: Flame Tales
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late morning on Saturday when the first-year Gryffindor collective found its way into the Great Hall for breakfast.  The tables already accommodated a significant portion of the school population by the time these first-years got there and took their seats.

Apple Bloom promptly found the Weasley twins.  “Hey ya two, good morning.”

“Good morning,” the twin on the left replied

“How are you this fine morning?” his mirror image continued.

“Wondaful, I just found out I have an unequipped potions lab in my trunk,” Apple Bloom jubilantly responded as she started to pile food onto her plate.  It didn’t matter if it were fruit, grain, vegetable, dairy, or meat; everything was fair game.

“How does one. . .”

“. . . just now find out they have a potions lab?”

“By just opening the first, second, and fifth compartments and ignoring the other three,” Scootaloo explained as she snatched a tureen of oatmeal from Apple Bloom’s grasp.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite fast enough to get to the blueberries before Ron.  “Turns out compartment four is a clothing closet, full of hanger space and drawers.

“Ah, figured if anyone here had an owl order catalog for potion supplies, it’d be you two,” Apple Bloom said reaching for the bacon platter only to find Sweetie Belle had beaten her to it.  She had no illusions that she’d get even a morsel.

“We might. . .” twin on the right started.

“. . . have something like that. . .”

“. . . laying around.”

“When might we see your lab?” the twins said in unison.

“Afta breakfast, would be great.”  Apple Bloom waved her fork absently as she demolished an apple fritter.

Suddenly, the air was filled with owls entering through the upper windows.  “Looks like they took down the security wards they had up for some reason,” a fifth-year commented as she looked up.  “It was a bit of a bother missing the post yesterday.”

All manner of owl made their way towards their various targets, delivering assorted payloads.  Suddenly, in the midst of the chaos, there was burst of flame.  When it faded, a majestic red and gold bird was revealed.

Dumbledore, who had been sitting at the head table, looked up in alarm.  Fawkes would not be delivering a letter to him here in the Great Hall unless it was urgent -- very, VERY urgent.  The headmaster put down his fork and sat back waiting for his familiar to land.  To his bemusement, the bird continued to circle the Great Hall, its rare form ensuring every student in the hall turned their head upward to witness the spectacle.  

With a start, Dumbledore realized it was not Fawkes looking to deliver a letter to him; instead, it was another, an unknown phoenix bearing a scroll.  The unfamiliar bird appeared to be looking for someone, but couldn’t quite find whomever it was searching for.

Then, the call came from the Gryffindor table, “Philomena!” and with sudden recognition, the bird turned and dove in the direction of the voice.

Everyone in the Great Hall was silent as they watched Sweetie Belle address the phoenix.  “Hello Philomena, is that message for me?”

Philomena trilled joyously as she presented the scroll she was carrying.

“Thank you.”  Sweetie Belle accepted the scroll and held up a strip of meat in response.  “Want to try some bacon?  It’s really rather good.”

Philomena gladly accepted the treat as she examined the “pony” she had been sent to find.  It was at this time that a screech owl bearing a small package and a folded paper also found Sweetie Belle.

“Is that a phoenix?” Hermione demanded impatiently, ignoring the new owl as the rest of the Great Hall continued to rubberneck.

“Mmm, hmm,” Scootaloo said around a mouthful of oatmeal.  “Her name’s Philomena; she’s Princess Celestia’s pet.”

“You know a phoenix and a real princess?” Hermione squeaked in astonishment.

“Mmm hmm.” Apple Bloom didn’t even bother to stop eating, or even nod her head, as she replied.

Up at the head table, Professor McGonagall muttered to herself, “So much for keeping a low profile.”

“What’s with this owl anyway?” Harry asked, pointing to the screech owl pestering Sweetie Belle for her attention.

“It’s an owl order,” Parvati informed him.  “It wants Sweetie to mark its payment receipt with her vault key and take the package.”

“Oh!” about half of the Gryffindor first-year conclave said together.

The owl was soon relieved of the package and Philomena had finished her first piece of bacon.  Again, there was a burst of fire in the air above, and a second phoenix appeared above tables in the Great Hall.  This one homed in on the first and landed beside her.  The two birds were soon quietly trilling at each other, obviously deep in conversation.

“What’s the letter say?”  Scootaloo gestured at the scroll Philomena had delivered.

“Oh.”  The ribbon around the scroll was removed and Sweetie began to read.  “Just a second, and I’ll find out.”

“Well?” Apple Bloom said after a minute.

“It’s a good thing, letters can’t yell at you,” Sweetie Belle said as she rolled the scroll back up, her complexion becoming paler.  “We should probably write some responses as soon as possible.”

“It’s a muggle howler?” Fred asked curiously,

“They found out about your potions class already?” George finished.

“Something like that.”  Sweetie Belle grimaced.  “Come on girls, we have some letters to write.”

“I’m not done yet,” Apple Bloom complained, fork halfway to her plate.

Sweetie Belle simply glared at her.

“All right, all right.”  Apple Bloom swallowed, and then dumped a platterful of biscuits into her purse.

Watching Sweetie Belle stand to leave, Philomena took a hop and, with a few wing beats, was riding on her shoulder.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders then trouped back up to their dorm and disappeared into Apple Bloom’s trunk, not to be seen again until supper.

<->

The mare sat on a wooden bench in a small enclosed room, the hot steam penetrating her hide in a most pleasing manner.  “Ah have ta admit, Rarity.”  Applejack practically purred from her spot, “Ah’m a mite glad you talked me into this here outing.”

“If by ‘talked’, you mean lifting you bodily and floating you here,” Pinkie noted from the bench she was in the process of melting into. “Then, yes she talked you into it re-e-e-e-e-ealy well.”

“I do apologize darling,” Rarity said as she ignored the slur, “but it was exceedingly apparent that you needed a respite.”

“We all do,” Twilight concurred, sweat slicking her coat, making her a shade darker than normal.  “It’s been a strenuous week for everypony.”

“Yeah, strenuous.”  With her eyes cast downward, Rainbow Dash agreed, saying some of her first words since the group got together.  Her friends all looked at her, worried by the lack of her usual flair.

“Do you want to talk about it, darling?” Rarity asked as Fluttershy fluttered over and draped a wing over the pained pegasus.

“No, I just. . .”  Rainbow Dash shook her head unable to voice what she wanted to say. “. . . just no.”

She was saved from further prodding, as, abruptly, there was a flare of flames in the middle of the sauna, and Philomena practically got mugged when the ponies present realized she was carrying a stack of letters.

Fifteen minutes later, the group was out of the spa, hunting for draconequus. There may or may not have been a blunt instrument or two involved.

<->

Draco Malfoy sat in his room, hesitantly composing a letter to his father.  He had already relayed that he had failed his orders to make friends with the scion of house Potter.  The reply he had earned for that bit of news did not make for a pleasant read.  Having to report that Potter had chosen Gryffindor was not received much better.  Even though neither outcome was particularly unanticipated, they were decidedly unwelcome.

Now, Draco had a report that was wholly unforeseen, something unforeseeable.  At breakfast this morning, it became apparent that Dumbledore had found a new, powerful ally; how else could you explain the appearance of a second phoenix?  His father would want to know about this immediately; Draco just wished he didn’t have to be the one to tell him.  

Sighing, Draco put quill to paper and wrote down what he had witnessed.  Soon, an owl was making its way in the direction of Malfoy Manor.

<->

As soon as she awoke, Alice rose from her bed and, without much delay, was at her kitchen table once more, the organized chaos of her notes making way for a cup of coffee.  Earlier, she had been forced to take a nap when the words began to blur together incomprehensively.  Regardless, she wouldn’t allow herself much downtime, not with her goals so close.

Sipping her coffee, she almost missed the addition of a satchel to the clutter on the table.  Warily, she opened the strange container.  Then, after a few minutes reading what was inside, she broke out into a wide grin.  Life was getting better and better.

<->

Noticing a flash of pink out of the corner of her eye, Berry Punch double-checked the anomaly and, to her relief, it wasn’t an elephant.  Still, she took a careful sniff from the open bottle she was carrying, just to be safe.  Satisfied that nothing was amiss, she trotted up behind the pony who had caught her attention.

As the other mare peered around the corner of a building, Berry asked, “What cha up to, Pinkie?”

“Shhhhh,” Pinkie said holding her hoof up to her lips, a crazed look in her eyes.  “Be very, very quiet; I’m hunting draconequus.”

“Um, okay,” Berry said and slowly backed away from her.

Without warning, Pinkie took off around the corner and was soon lost from sight.

Berry Punch took a swig from the bottle as her friend Carrot Top trotted up beside her and asked, “What was that all about?”

Berry partook of another swig then said with an amazing stretch of insight, “I’m not sure, but if I were asked to place bits on it, I’d say Discord had something to do with the recent lost filly fiasco.”

“Oh.”  Carrot Top contemplated the direction Pinkie had disappeared to.  “Sucks to be him.”

“Pretty much,” Berry agreed with another swig.

The two mares were quiet a few seconds more before Carrot said, “Want to get a hayburger? They’re having a two for.”

Berry shrugged and finished off the bottle, “Sure, I’m a bit peckish.”

<->

Impatiently, Lavender knocked on the lid of the trunk for the third time.  Just as she finished, it swung open and Scootaloo looked at her questioningly.

“We were starting to get worried about you.” Lavender said, trying to hide her curiosity, “You’ve been in there since breakfast.”

Scootaloo managed a sheepish look, “Sorry, we started with letter writing and that led to Apple Bloom explaining the basics of cooking and potion making to Sweetie.  I kinda took a nap myself.”

“Sweetie cannot be as bad at cooking as you keep implying.” Lavender stated putting her hands on her hips.

Scootaloo yawned and stretched, “I’m going to remember you said that.” She warned.

“Anyway,” Parvati said from her bed, where she had been lying, reading a magazine, “It’s almost time for supper, and we need to go rescue the library from Hermione first.”

“She’s been there the entire time?” Scootaloo asked, descending the stairs into the trunk.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Lavender confirmed.  “Once she picked up the package Sweetie forgot at the table when you three left, she made a beeline for it.  Said something about looking up phoenixes”

“Hey, you two!  Dinner time!” Scootaloo called out from the bottom of the stairs.

“Coming!” came the duet from deeper in the trunk.

Soon, the fillies were exiting the trunk, with Philomena once again resting on Sweetie Belle’s shoulder.

“I can’t get over the fact that you have a phoenix,” Lavender said getting as close to the bird as she dared.  “May I pet her?”

“Y’all should be asking Philomena that,” Apple Bloom informed her as the lid of the trunk was closed, “’Fore we go, come over here so we can key you to our trunks, so you won’t be locked out again.”

“Where are the colts?” Sweetie Belle asked as she stood still and let Lavender give Philomena attention.

“Off doing whatever boys do.”  Parvati was also examining the phoenix but was keeping her hands to herself.  “Ginny’s with them, following Harry like a little lost puppy.”

“Less chatting and more eating,” Apple Bloom commanded.  “Ah, didn’t get to finish brunch an’ my stomach is a rumblin’”

Sweetie Belle whined, “But I made cookies.”  The other crusaders looked at her, horrified.

Not wanting to get between the redhead and a meal, the girls quickly completed the changes to the trunks and then took off in search of the library.

As they made their way through the hallways, everyone they passed stopped to stare at the phoenix-toting girl, some going so far as to follow behind the group for a bit to get a better look.  Strutting, Scootaloo was basking in the attention, while Sweetie Belle was getting nervous and ended up walking closer and closer to Apple Bloom for support.  Giggling, Lavender and Parvati seemed happy enough to be in the group that was the center of attention.

Before long, they ran into Hermione, who was making her way back to the dorms with her arms full of books.  “Hermione!”  Scootaloo waved as they approached her.  “We were just coming to get you!”

“Oh, hey!” Hermione returned, pleased by the notion that children her own age were looking to include her.  “I just have some light reading here to take back to the dorm first.”

“She is not to be left in a room alone with Twilight,” Scootaloo insisted as she looked at the pile of books that the girl had called light reading.

“Aw,” Apple Bloom pouted realizing they were about to make a trip back to the dorms, “more delays until we can eat.”

“Well, if we were in a real hurry,” Hermione said, clutching her books tightly to her chest, “we could just ask Philomena to flame us to the dorm.”  There was a sudden bright flash as flames surrounded the girls and the hallway vanished from view. “Kind of like that,” Hermione finished, placing her books on her bed.  “The wards stop apparition but not phoenix travel.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Sweetie Belle said to the bird on her shoulder.  Philomena’s reply was a trill and a smug look.

“Wow!” Parvati exclaimed, once again examining the phoenix, “I could get used to that.  How long did you say she was going to be sticking around?”

“Princess Celestia asked her to keep an eye on us until further notice,” Apple Bloom interrupted, then addressing the bird, “Think y’all could take us to the eating hall now, please?”

More flames came into existence, and the girls found themselves once more in the Great Hall and, consequently, the focal point of all the present diners.  

“Great!” Apple Bloom cheered as she claimed a seat next to Ron, who was gawking with his mouth half open and half full.  “Let’s eat.”

“Okay,” Ginny accused from her seat next to Harry, “that’s just cheating.”

“Nah.”  Hermione shook her head as she took a seat next to Scootaloo.  “It’s just creative rule following.”

“Learns fast, she does,” Dean commented as he offered a chunk of rabbit from his hasenpfeffer to Philomena, who was still sitting on the shoulder of the girl who claimed the seat next to him.

“I didn’t know phoenixes ate meat.”  Scootaloo watched as the bird accepted Dean’s offer.

“They’re omnivores.” Hermione took on a lecturing tone, “Just like us.  Didn’t you see her eat the bacon?”

“Speaking of meat,” Percy said from down the table, a few seats away, where he was sitting with some of his classmates, “Scootaloo, you need to eat some more; I swear you’re trying to go vegetarian on us, and that’s not a good idea for someone so young.  You’re still growing.  And Sweetie, the opposite holds true for you, eat more veggies.”

“There’s a limit on how much meat I can eat?” Sweetie Belle asked in dismay, even as she reached for the platter of steaks.

“You need a balanced diet; don’t you know?”  Hermione started dishing greens on Sweetie Belle’s plate for her.  “You need a variety of foods to get all the nutrients you need.”

In unison, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo looked at each other and then turned to look at Apple Bloom, who was once again racing with Ron.  

“I’m not touching that one.”  Hermione shook her head at their unasked question.  “I might lose a hand in the process, if I try.”

<->

Sullenly, he lay on his pallet, weak both from lack of decent food and from the jailers who roamed the halls.  For what seemed like forever, he knew he deserved his punishment.  He knew that he didn’t deserve to feel happiness because his brother could no longer feel happiness either.  Never again would his brother know the love of family, all because he had failed.  He had failed to protect those who had meant the most to him.  He failed because he had suggested using the traitor.  Worst of all, he had failed to bring the traitor to justice.  He had failed.

He failed to notice the stranger in his cell, looking upon him with sadness and cunning in mismatched eyes.  He failed to see change coming.

<->

Harry’s day had been enjoyable.  He had spent it exploring the castle with the rest of the Gryffindor boys and Ron’s sister.  Together, they had poked their noses into every nook and cranny they could find.  They had even shared a laugh at the thought of the girls’ reaction if they happened to meet one of the moving suits of armor.  There had been no plan or agenda, just fun, just learning how to be a child.

The down side came in the form of the whispers from the other students in the halls.

“Look, it’s him.”

“Does he have the scar?”

“Did you see his scar?”

“He’s wearing glasses.”

“Next to the redhead girl, see?”

Harry was not used to the attention.  He survived his entire prior existence with the Dursleys by avoiding attention whenever and however possible.  The sudden celebrity status was the antithesis to all he had known before, and frankly, he wasn’t sure how to handle it.  

He also wasn’t sure how to handle friends.  Without Dudley around to chase them away, Harry was making friends.  Predictably, it was an idea he could get used to; he very much enjoyed having friends.  What had once been a fond dream was becoming a reality.  Surrounded by acceptance, Harry knew one thing for certain, he was never going back to the Dursleys’ willingly.

And then there was the mystery that was Ginny, Ron’s little sister.  Though she said nothing outright, she seemed to be wanting something from him and was never too far from him.  Yet, whenever he tried talking to her, she would go all silent and stare at him, answering his questions only with nods or shakes of her head.  It was frustrating, especially knowing she could speak just fine to everyone else.  Having little social interaction beforehand, he wished she would stop seeing him as the Boy-Who-Lived and start just being his friend.  Harry found that she made him uncomfortable in a new and unusual way.  Not uncomfortable enough to avoid her, but certainly just uncomfortable enough that he was always aware of exactly where she was.

With the good far outweighing the bad, life was good for the first time he could remember.  

<->

Six friends were gathered in the library one of their number called home.  It was an inviting location, inside a living tree, with the distinct smell of books filling the air.  There was tea being served with small cakes.

“He ain’t no whars to be found.”  Applejack stomped her forehoof soundly on the wooden floor.  “And he ain’t coming when called.”

“Nopony has ever accused him of being exceedingly stupid,” Rarity agreed, putting down the bat she had been levitating.  “I’m sure we won’t be seeing him for at least a week.”

“I’m sure he had a good reason for doing what he did,” came a meek defense for the condemned.  “We should probably hear what he has to say before. . . umm. . . that is. . .”

“He’ll have exactly three seconds to explain himself once I get my hooves on him,” Applejack allowed grumpily.

“He needs to know that he’s been a mean mean meanie pants and needs to let ponies know when he moves fillies around so we don’t get all worried like and go looking for them only we can’t find them since they aren’t anywhere here they are there instead which would have been nice to know before we went out here looking for them!” Pinkie had started bouncing in time with her speech’s cadence, and by the end of her, we’ll call it a sentence, she was going up and down so fast that she had become a pink blur.

After watching Pinkie for a second, Rainbow Dash turned to Twilight and asked, “How is that even possible?”

Twilight just shrugged, she had been down that path before; therein lay madness.  “Fluttershy is right.  It would be my guess that he’s keeping an eye on the crusaders and just forgot to let us know.  While nopony has ever accused him of being responsible either, I’m sure he wouldn’t go as far as to leave them unattended.”

“So, we just let him off scot-free then?”  Applejack stomped her hoof again, this time hard enough that the room shook.

“No, I never said that.  All I’m saying is we shouldn’t pour all the emotion of the last week into his punishment.”  Twilight tapped the bottom of her chin with her hoof.  “Remember, he’s new to the whole friendship idea.”  She paused for a breath.  “And in a sense, he did exactly what a friend should do and helped the crusaders with their goals.  Admittedly, his methodology could be considerably improved upon, though.”

“So, I don’t get to hit him?” Rarity asked once again hefting the bat in her unicorn magic.

“I fail to see how that would be helpful,” Twilight said.

“It would make me feel better,” Rarity offered with a sweet smile.

“Me too,” Applejack agreed.

“And me!” Pinkie added.

“Girls!” Twilight scolded, “violence isn’t going to help and the fillies were never in any real danger.”

“Sugarcube,” Applejack snarled as she fixed Twilight with a steely gaze, “are you seriously trying to talk us down from beating the tar out of a certain draconequus?”

“No,” Twilight returned with a shake of her head, “I’m trying to talk myself down; you five are just a bonus.”

<->

Once they were all back in the Gryffindor common room and sitting on comfy chairs, Hermione reached into a pocket and pulled out a pillbox-sized package.  “Here, you left without this earlier,” she said as she passed it to Sweetie Belle.

Sweetie Belle turned the package over in her hands a couple times.  “This is a lot smaller than I was expecting.”

“Tap it three times with your wand,” Lavender suggested.

When the package grew to a much more respectable size, Sweetie Belle opened it.  She was happy to find that inside were the shoulder bags she had ordered.  Pulling them out, she saw that they were made of canvas and were weirdly-shaped, maybe a foot long, six inches high, and less than an inch thick.

“The welcome to Hogwarts gifts are here!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed and started passing out bags to all of the first-years while Philomena trilled joyfully from the back of her chair.  “Sorry, Philomena, I didn’t get you one, since I ordered them yesterday.  Give me some time and I’ll see if they have something in your size.”  

Though it wasn’t the point she was trying to get across, Philomena nodded her head in acceptance.

Dean studied his new bag and said, “I guess we’re going with the whole bigger on the inside theme.  Otherwise this wouldn’t. . .  Someone help Ginny!  It looks like her bag is trying to eat her!”

Everyone in the common room turned to see that somehow, Ginny had managed to get the entire upper half of her body into her bag and was kicking her legs vainly trying to gain purchase.  

“Oh look.”  Hermione held up a pamphlet retrieved from inside the package.  “Instructions for the bags; these should come in handy.”  Then, after reading the first paragraph, she said, “Here’s a hint on how not to trigger the bags’ defense mechanisms if you haven’t bound them to yourself yet.  Kind of like Ginny just did. . . Trigger the defenses that is.”

With a loud slurping sound, Ginny’s legs disappeared into her bag, and it bounced on the floor a few times before coming to a rest.  Hastily, the remaining first-years dropped their bags and turned their attention to Hermione in anticipation.

“That’s more than a little disturbing,” Seamus commented.

Hermione read through the small packet quickly.  Then, with a look of determination, she tapped Ginny’s bag with her wand and said, “Ex dimittere.”

There was a puking sound and Ginny rejoined the group.  Looking terrified, the redhead quickly put some space between herself and her bag.

“I can’t decide if the sound effects are cool or just disturbing.”  Scootaloo looked down at her own bag warily.

“This is the first time anyone’s given me a girl-eating bag before,” Harry noted.  “Is it possible to sic it on people?”

Apple Bloom bopped Harry lightly on his head.  “Hush now, I wanna hear how to avoid getting eaten.”

One of the seventh-year girls, who had been listening in on the newbies muttered, “You’re going to be changing that tune later on, you will”

Luckily, none of the first-years heard her as they went on to learn about their new bags.

<->

A glass of single malt whiskey sat on the desk, waiting patiently as Lucius Malfoy reread the letter sent by his son.  Snarling, he crumpled the paper in his hand.  Then, leaning back, he downed the contents of the glass in one swift motion.  Grimacing at both the news and the fluid, he contemplated.

A phoenix!  Now, all the girl needed was for a bloody unicorn to come up and offer her a ride, and the image would be complete.  A new figurehead for the light had just made an appearance, and that wouldn’t do, wouldn’t do at all.  The meddlesome Dumbledore was bad enough; the addition of a preadolescent phoenix-bonded would be insufferable.  Politically, it was completely unacceptable; she was already guaranteed a seat on the Wizengamot, just for showing up with the accursed fowl.  Age was not a factor for that old law.  On top of it all, she was reputedly making ties with the Potter brat as well.

Lucius could just see the neutral voters flocking to the show of strength presented by such a young phoenix-bonded.  It would ruin his years of carful power mongering.  No, this was a problem that was best nipped in the bud before it bloomed.  

Well aware that, without too much hassle, accidents could still be arranged, Lucius made plans.  Clearly, it was time to assure certain events happened.
> Chapter 12: Giving Chaos Ideas
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alastor Moody was not what most would call an attractive man.  Maybe  in his youth he would have been considered passably handsome, but the  years had not been kind to him.  The conflicts he had participated in  over the decades had been even less so.   As a consequence, his face was  now a network of scars, and the rest of his body hadn’t fared any  better.  Most noticeable were the bits of himself he had forfeited to  battle; one leg was gone, as was part of his nose.  However, it was  unquestionably his eye which was his most striking feature, his magical  prosthetic eye.  The electric blue abnormality resided in the socket  vacated by his missing eye, an ever-present reminder of what he had  lost.

It should be noted that life’s experience had left Moody a  smidgen paranoid, to the point that he ate or drank nothing without  checking it for poison first.  Also, it was no surprise that before he  bedded at night, he double checked his wards and gave his home a once  over for suspicious changes.  Not much escaped his notice, which was why  it was so much more astonishing to him to find his kitchen was already  occupied when he awoke the next morning.

Thanks to his magical  eye, Moody was well aware of the visitor before he even stepped foot out  of his bedroom.  Accordingly, he had his wand drawn and already trained  on the visitor as he entered the room.  Sitting at his table, casually  reading the morning paper, and sipping tea was a man Moody had never  seen before.

“Who are you?” Moody snapped as he made his presence known, “How’d you get in here?” 

The  stranger, dressed in a spotless brown business suit, never looked up  from the paper he was reading.  The mismatched gloves he wore were a  striking contrast to his otherwise dapper appearance.  “Good morning Mr.  Moody.  I was beginning to wonder when you’d put in an appearance.   Fortunately, I’ve had some interesting reading to occupy my time.”

‘It’s my bloody house,” Moody growled.  “It’s your appearance that I’m more concerned about.”

This caused the man to laugh as he put down the paper.  “You wouldn’t be the first to say that to me.”

Moody just kept his wand aimed at the intruder as he sidestepped over to his fireplace.

The  stranger watched the movement with the hint of a smile on his face.   “No need for hostilities, my good man.  I’ve just come to make a few  inquiries of you.”

“Such as?’ Moody growled, not stopping until he was in front of his fireplace.

“I  have heard it told that when it comes to defense from the dark arts,  you are the go-to man,” the stranger purred as he steepled his fingers  together.  “I was wondering what it would take to get you to agree to  teaching some Hogwarts students.”

Moody took a handful of floo  powder and, without looking, threw in in the flames and calling out,  “Auror Command.”  Keeping his eyes focused on the stranger, he waited  until he knew the flames would turn green before he barked, “Backup.”   Only then did he answer the question.  “Albus has tried to rope me into  that position more than once.  In fact, I hear he already found someone  to fill the position this year.”

The stranger leaned back in the  chair, unperturbed by the quartet of new wizards filing in through the  fireplace.  “His choice is worse than useless.  I intend for the  children to have a true education, unsoiled by political posturing or an  old wizard’s machinations.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert on choosing  teachers then?”   Moody never let the point of his wand leave the  stranger.  “You expect me to believe you broke in here just to offer me a  job that’s already filled?”

“I had hoped you would have the  students’ best interest in mind when I brought the deficit to light.”   The stranger reached for another sip of tea.  “Failing that, what is  your opinion on a proper teacher?  Someone you would trust with the  education of first-years?”

“You still lack the authority to change  out professors at the school just on your whim,” Moody observed.  The  four aurors, who had come at Moody’s call, had also trained their wands  on the stranger, waiting for Moody’s orders.

“Students may request  tutors for any subject.  This holds particularly true when the  professor they have been provided falls short of even the lowest  standards.”  The stranger finished off the tea in his cup.  “Do you  happen to know anyone who could fill the role?  It has become  exceedingly obvious that you are not interested in the job.”

Moody  frowned and studied the man; there wasn’t a hint of stress coming from  him despite being the target of five wands.  With his relaxed posture,  he either had nerves of steel, or an ace up his sleeve.  Either way,  there was no reason to escalate the situation.  “There’s a young auror  who’d just been let go at the insistence of the Minister.  Rotten piece  of business it was too.  Clearly a thinly veiled bit of discrimination,  prompted by Fudge’s favorite advisor, Malfoy.  The unfortunate lad’s  name is Richard Goodman.  You can be sure a bit of work sent his way  would not be unappreciated.”

“Now that wasn’t so painful, was it?”   The stranger smiled and nodded his acceptance, “Thank you for your  time, I’ll leave you now to your own business.”  With a snap of his  fingers, the stranger was gone in a flash of light, and the apparition  wards never even flickered.

<-> 

Sunday brunch brought  another storm of owls.  This time, none sought out Sweetie or the other  Crusaders.  In truth, the only first-year to receive any mail was  Hermione.  Harry’s owl had brought a reply from the muggle-born’s mother  and the girl was tickled pink that Harry had lent her Hedwig for the  exchange.

Sweetie Belle tried not to feel too neglected and  settled for sharing her bacon with Philomena.  She really had not meant  to scare off both Harry and his owl with that one careless question.  In  truth, she couldn’t blame him for his response; Applejack would  probably have had the same reaction if Sweetie had asked if Winona were  tasty.  So, even though it hurt, she decided to give Harry some space  and not bother Hedwig at all.

Neville, who was sitting next to  Sweetie Belle, asked, “Is that much bacon good for her?  I know you have  to limit the amount you give to owls; I’m not too sure about phoenixes  though.”

Sweetie Belle had no idea how much meat a phoenix could  safely eat, so she switched to feeding her grapes, much to Philomena’s  disappointment.  “Thanks Neville.  I wouldn’t want to make her sick.”

“You’re. . . You’re welcome, Sweetie,” Neville stuttered, blushing slightly.

From  down the table, Percy waved for Sweetie Belle’s attention. “They’ve got  an article about you in the ‘Daily Prophet’,” he announced.  “You might  want to read it.”

“An article?” Sweetie’s eyes widened in alarm.  “About me?  Why?”

In  response, Percy handed the paper to the student next to him, and in  that way, it was handed down the table until it reached Sweetie Belle.   The first thing she noticed was the headline “PHOENIX-BONDED!”, under  which was what had to be a stock photo of a phoenix spreading its wings.   Curiosity properly aroused, she read the article.

When  our children receive their letters of acceptance to Hogwarts, they are  given a list of supplies.  The list has all the common necessities  required for schooling as well as a short list of animals preferred by  the school.  Toads, owls, and cats are, therefore, the most common  animals to arrive with students for their stay.  That is not to say  there haven’t been exceptions in the past.  Foxes, rats, crups,  puffskein, and the occasional niffler have been known to take up  residence in the illustrious walls of Hogwarts, as the occasion may have  warranted.  However, this year, there has been a first for the record  books.  Never before has a student been accompanied by a phoenix.

This  paper has received several owls corrborating the arrival of a phoenix  with yesterday’s morning post.  The majestic bird arrived with a missive  for its bonded and made the delivery just like a common owl.  And who,  you may ask, is this phoenix-bonded that we speak of?  Surprisingly, it  appears to be a first year Gryffindor student by the name of “Sweetie  Belle”.  She was subsequently seen roaming the halls with the phoenix on  her shoulder, and even used the bird’s unique traveling magic to make a  spectacular entrance at supper.  Sadly, we at the "Daily Prophet" have  not at this time been able to obtain much information on this young  lady, but the mere fact that she is bonded to a phoenix speaks volumes.   Only the bravest and purest of heart have ever receive such a rare  honor.  To the point, the last time a phoenix has been known to be  bonded, it was to Albus Dumbledore himself (See page 7).  Moreover, with  several laws pertaining to the appearance of a phoenix-bonded, it is  safe to say that we can expect much from the young Miss Belle.  The  young lady, just by having a phoenix, already has several  responsibilities and privileges to call her own (See page 14 for  summary).  

It  should be noted that Sweetie Belle shares her year and house with none  other than the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter himself.  Accordingly,  witnesses have claimed that the two seem to be getting along well  together, a very pleasing circumstance that has this author hopefully  reminding their guardians that it is not too early to consider a  marriage contract.  Surely, the union of these two would be a boon for  the entirety of all of Magical-Britain.  Furthermore, we hope to hear  more from this couple in the near future and look forward to seeing how  they affect our society in the years to come.

“Well?” Hermione asked, once Sweetie Belle put down the paper with a bemused look on her face.  “What does it say?”

“It  says I should marry Harry,” a wide-eyed Sweetie Belle whispered in  astonishment.  From where he sat, Harry found that it had been exactly  the wrong time to be taking a deep pull of his pumpkin juice.  As a  result, Seamus and Parvati found that they weren’t too fond of wearing  pumpkin juice.

<->

It hungered yet again.  Prey had  been passing by for some time now, too many to risk an attack.  So, it  waited patiently for the herd to thin.  After a time, its patience was  rewarded as a single straggler lumbered by.  With expert precision, it  took the opportunity and pounced.

“Ow! It bit me on my other ankle!”

<->

“Hello  Button Mash,” a voice behind the brown colt said, causing him to  stumble slightly as he walked down the narrow alleyway on his way to the  market square.

“Oh, hey there, Discord,” Button Mash greeted the  voice cheerfully.  “I’m on my way to play some ‘Pony Knight Rumble  Spectacular’; you want to be Player 2?”  He looked around but couldn’t  find the target of his invitation.

Discord chuckled at the predictable little colt.  “I’m not even fully in your dimension right now; I’m just throwing my voice.”

“Okay,” Button Mash said rubbing his head with his hoof.  “Did you want something?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” the voice of Discord said.  “I have a favor to ask you.”

<->

Up  at the head table, Professor Sprout was whispering some news to the  headmaster.  After she was finished talking, she took her seat and  looked at Dumbledore expectantly.

The headmaster stood up and  waved his wand, sending sparks to gain attention and call for silence.   “I have a quick announcement,” he said once the hall had quieted down.   “It would seem that we have a new resident roaming the castle.   Reportedly, it is a small blob of light blue slime and is said to be  particularly agile.  While it has proven to be mostly harmless, you  would be well-advised not to antagonize it.”  He paused to take a  breath.  “Apparently, it bites.  A truly remarkable feat, once you stop  to consider that it doesn’t appear to have teeth.”

“What?” Madam Hooch asked from where she was sitting at the head table.  “Has someone else seen the mouse?”

<->

Standing  in his lavish sitting room, Lucius Malfoy bitterly read the morning  paper.  It had not yet been one full day gone by and already the new  phoenix-bonded was drawing notice and praise.  The “Daily Prophet” only  enforced the reality that she could not be removed quickly enough!

As  swiftly as he had been able, he had made arrangements to call in some  markers.  Unfortunately, the next Friday would be the soonest he been  able to arrange a meeting with the necessary people.  Furthermore, the  girl was safely at Hogwarts, making it no mean feat to arrange an  accident.  Clearly, this was going to be an expensive venture, without a  guarantee and without a definite time frame.  Lucius seethed with  impotence, embittered by the knowledge that he was unquestionably going  to lose influence before the deed was done.

It absolutely had to  appear to be an accident with no connections to himself.  Otherwise, the  backlash would be almost as detrimental as the girl herself.   Potentially, it could even be worse.  Rushing would most assuredly cost  him dearly, as would waiting patiently.  With no favorable options  available, Lucius fumed as he sat down in a chair.  He was not a happy  wizard.

<->

The Gryffindor first-years were just finishing their meal when their head of house sought them out.  

“Good  morning, children,” she said as she approached the table.  “Miss Aloo,  once you are finished, I will need you to follow me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Scootaloo obediently agreed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.  “I’m done now.”

Professor McGonagall frowned.  “Use your napkin instead of your sleeves in the future, please.”

Hermione  rolled her eyes as Lavender and Parvati giggled.  Scootaloo looked  first at her sleeve, then at the napkins on the table and said, “Okay,”  much too cheerfully for someone who had just been scolded.

Raising  her eyebrow was the only response Professor McGonagall gave as she  turned to leave.  Scootaloo soon followed in her wake.  They made their  way swiftly through the halls and were outside the clinic before too  long.  Wordlessly, Professor McGonagall motioned for Scootaloo to enter.

Feeling  less than enthusiastic over being in the medical wing once again,  Scootaloo went in and was greeted by Madam Pomfrey’s infectious smile.   “Hello, Miss Aloo,” the nurse greeted.  “If you would go behind that  screen there and get on the examination table, we can begin.”

Cautiously,  Scootaloo did as she was bid, the confusion plain on her face. She  heard Madam Pomfrey exchange greetings with Professor McGonagall and  then there was the clinking of glass on glass.  Not long after, Madam  Pomfrey joined her behind the screen, carrying a corked glass bottle.

Madam  Pomfrey put the bottle on a nearby table and addressed Scootaloo.   “Well now, dear, it’s time to have that talk.  Would you please remove  your pendant?” When she had a sad-looking little orange pegasus before  her, she commented playfully, “My, aren’t you the expressive little  thing?”

Scootaloo mumbled some response to the affirmative as  Madam Pomfrey once again scanned her wings.  Nodding to herself, the  nurse took a cup from the table and poured a measure of liquid from the  bottle into it.

“Here we go.  Professor Snape was up late brewing  this for you.”  Madam Pomfrey offered the cup to Scootaloo before  frowning.  “Am I going to need to get you a bowl?”

“A bowl?”  Scootaloo asked taking the cup in her hooves, much to Madam Pomfrey’s  astonishment.  “Why would I need a bowl?  I’m not a dog.”  She sniffed  at the cup and found that it smelled like freshly-mown grass and it had a  dark green tint to match.  Understandably, a human student may have  balked at the color and smell, but Scootaloo was partial to smoothies of  like consistency that were made with real grass.  Enthusiastically, the  glass was quickly emptied.

“That was pretty good,” Scootaloo noted hoofing the glass back to Madam Pomfrey.  “Could use more ginger, though.”

With  yet another smile Madam Pomfrey scolded Scootaloo as she once again  scanned the pegasus’ wings, “Potions are not made for their taste, they  are made for their effects.” 

Abruptly, Scootaloo’s wings grew,  doubling their size in a matter of seconds, leaving her feeling tired  and hungry.  Electricity crackled through her feathers as her magic  finally flowed through them.  “My wings!” she gasped even as she slumped  onto her side, all the while being scanned by Madam Pomfrey.

“That  worked better than I was hoping for,” Madam Pomfrey informed Scootaloo  as she filled another glass with a white milky potion.  “Drink this  nutrient potion and then it’s nap time; you’ll be right as rain when you  wake.”

“My wings!” Scootaloo repeated as Madam Pomfrey helped her sit up enough to drink the second potion.  “My wings!”

“Yes dear, they should be channeling magic properly now.” 

With  a smile on her face, Scootaloo drifted to sleep almost immediately  after finishing the second potion.  She had her broom, and now she had  her wings.  Life was good.

<->

The bell above the door  rang and Rarity called out as she trotted out from the back, “Come in  darling!  Welcome to the Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic,  unique, and magnifique.  Oh, hello there.  You’re one of Sweetie  Belle’s little friends, aren’t you?”

Plainly nervous, Button Mash nodded his head, toting a stack of papers in his mouth.

“And what do we have here?” Rarity asked gesturing to the papers he bore.

Blushing, Button Mash held out the papers with a forehoof.  “Marriage contract for Sweetie Belle,” he stammered bashfully.

Rarity  giggled as she examined the distraught colt.  A common practice for  older fillies was to approach the mothers of colts they were interested  in and ask for signatures on “marriage contracts”.  It was a very old  tradition that, though no longer legally binding, was a common  occurrence for teenagers.  Nowadays, it served more as an ice breaker  between the mother and possible daughter-in-law, as colts were notably  not very perceptive of the feelings they instilled in the young fillies.   It was, therefore, very helpful to prompt a nudge from the colt’s  mother.

Still, it was cute that the colt was attempting the ritual  so young, even if he had gotten the gender role backwards.  Charging  her horn, Rarity reached for a quill.  There would be no harm in signing  the papers for him.

<->

The day was bright and  cloudless; the majority of the first-year Gryffindors were outside the  castle, exploring the grounds and taking advantage of the weather.  They  had started at the lake and worked their way to the border of the  forbidden forest, stopping just short of entering.

As they stood staring into the trees Hermione said, “You do remember Professor Dumbledore told us that going in was forbidden?”

As one the rest of the group nodded their heads, but none made to move from their spot of observation.

Sighing, Hermione tried again, “And just what do you think the definition of forbidden is?”

“Don’t get caught doing it,” Seamus promptly answered, and there was another round of nods.

“Yeah.”   Hermione looked at her feet.  “I figured as much.”  Then, after  another sigh, she continued, “You do know, there’s supposed to be all  kinds of fearsome monsters in there.  The wards keep them away from the  castle proper, though.”

“Ah guess we’ll be needing that wooden  sword after all,” Apple Bloom commented as she peered into the forest  hoping to glimpse something interesting.

“Nah.”  Dean shook his head.  “We’re witches and wizards; wands be our weapon of choice.”

It  was in that instant that Hermione came to an understanding of exactly which house  she’d been sorted into.  The true implications were something reading  “Hogwarts a History” had not properly conveyed, and with that epiphany  came the realization that, sooner or later, they were going to enter  that forest.

“Maybe we should learn some spells first before we  try,” Hermione suggested, and, to her relief, another round of nods  followed.  Then she realized she had said “we”. 

“Sweetie Belle?” Harry’s voice suddenly asked.  “What’s with your bird?”

Philomena  had perched herself on top of Harry’s head and was currently stretching  her neck and turning her head so the she could examine the scar on his  forehead.

“I don’t know,” Sweetie Belle answered after a glance.  “That’s a new one on me.  Maybe she just likes you.”

They returned to looking at the woods until Ginny turned from her scrutiny and asked, “Do wands count as wooden swords?”

<->

From  within the forest proper she sensed the peculiarity, a circumstance  that should not have been.  There was a child nearby, and she could not  sense the child’s mother with it.  Every instinct in her let her know  that situation would not do.  She would investigate and, if need be,  care for the child until the mother was found.

She stepped from  the shadows and saw a cluster of the two legged creatures she was  familiar with.  This group was composed of their young ones, and she  could sense the child was within their herd.  Detecting no malice or ill  intent, she went forth to scrutinize the humans.

<->

Draco  Malfoy was having a good day.  He had been cementing his dominance  among the Slytherins, and, so far, most recognized his high standing and  influence.  It was going so well, in fact, that he decided to go  outside and explore the grounds a bit.  With his bodyguards in tow, he  made his way out the main doors into the bright sunlight.

He was  not outside for even a second when he laid eyes on a strange sight.  The  Gryffindor girl, Sweetie Belle, was running around screaming, “She  won’t leave me alone! She won’t leave me alone!”  Obviously, she was  distressed by the pure white unicorn that was following closely behind  her, easily keeping pace and periodically nudging the girl’s shoulder.   Completing the ludicrous scene was the phoenix riding on the unicorn’s  back, trilling loudly at the excitement.

Meanwhile, the remaining Gryffindors were trailing behind the spectacle showing various levels of amusement. 

“Slow down Sweetie,” one of them yelled.  “I think she just wants you to ride her.”

In  response, Sweetie Belle redoubled her efforts to get away.  “Rarity  will have a fit if I go around riding strange unicorns again!” she  shouted over her shoulder.

Sighing, Draco turned back toward the castle.  He was going to have to write his father another letter.

<->

Petunia  Dursley opened her front door and beheld a man in a smart brown  business suit, the stranger was obviously of good breeding and oozed  confidence.  “Yes, may I help you?’ she asked.

“Greetings, Mrs. Dursley.”  The stranger bowed slightly. “I am here to talk to you about your nephew.”

“He’s not here!” she practically shouted and slammed the door in the face of the stranger.

“Well now,” the man said from behind her.  “That was just rude.”

“What are you doing here?” Petunia snapped.  “I was promised your kind wouldn’t be bothering us decent folk.”

The  man raised one eyebrow, but let the obvious discrepancies in her  statement slide.  “I am here merely to obtain your signature.”

“Why  would I sign anything for you?”  Petunia backed up against the closed  door, putting as much distance between herself and the freak as she  could.

A rare look of anger flashed across the stranger’s face and  he continued, “Would you not like to reduce the number of years that  your nephew would be required to reside beneath your roof?”

“That old wizard said we were stuck with him until he turned seventeen,” Petunia insisted suspiciously.

“I  assure you, none of us want that.  I also assure you that I have the  child’s best interest in mind.”  There was the hint of steel lacing his  voice at this point.  “The wards around your home would stop any wizard  meaning you or the child harm.  You only need sign these for me to  expedite the time when he will never have to see you again.”

“What’s the catch?” Petunia demanded, not moving from her spot against the door.

“Though  it pains me,” the man snarled back at her, “there is no catch.  This is  an unanticipated opportunity that I am finding more and more imperative  as each second passes.”

“It will get the boy out of our hair all the sooner?”  One more check was made by Petunia.

The man nodded his head grimly in response.

“Hand those here,” the bi. . . Petunia ordered holding out her hand.  “I’ll sign them.”

<->

With  some hassle, the large grounds keeper, Hagrid, had finally managed to  drag the protesting unicorn back into the forest and the Gryffindors had  retreated into the castle.  

“Wow!” Neville commented.  “She really liked you.”

“I think she wanted to adopt you,” Ginny observed, causing Apple Bloom and Sweetie to give her a dirty look.

“Let’s  go find Scootaloo,” Sweetie Belle grumbled, not wanting to dwell on the  experience.  “She’s probably back in the dorm room by now.”

“I’m  going to head to the library myself,” Hermione informed the group.  “It  seems like a good idea to do some research on unicorns.”

“Sweetie can tell you everything you need to know about unicorns.” Apple Bloom offered seriously, and Ginny fell over laughing.

<->

Dylan was sitting in his shop reading a small book  when the owl arrived.  He quickly retrieved the payload and was soon  smiling at what he read.  It seemed that his favorite customer had a few  more jobs for him.

<->

Lucius  glared at his glass of single-malt whiskey.  The crumpled report from  his son had been angrily hurled into the fireplace.  A unicorn bonding  with the abomination!  He ground his teeth.  In two weeks, he could  start his agents.  Surely, nothing else could go wrong.

<->

Alice  finished cleaning off her kitchen table and then went to her closet to  see what she had to wear.  Tomorrow was going to be the big day and she  wanted to look her best.  Unfortunately, she had never been big on  dressing up and nothing in her wardrobe was remotely suitable.  Sadly,  it simply wasn’t in her budget to get a new outfit, even though there  would still be plenty of time to go to Diagon Alley and have something  appropriate made.

Smiling to herself, she summoned a washrag to  give the table one more wiping down, when she noticed a small pouch on  the table.  It contained enough galleons for a nice new set of dress  robes.

Yes, tomorrow was going to be grand.
> Chapter 13: On the Wings of Hope
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Scootaloo, it’s time to wake up.”   

Scootaloo slowly opened her eyes, and blinked at the light softly infusing the clinic, smiling as she recognized the voice.  She was still in her pony form and was curled up on top of one of the clinic’s beds.  A wide yawn gave way to a contented smile; here was one she owed much to.   

 “Good morning,” she said ebulliently, as she rubbed her eyes with her hooves.  “I haven’t got a chance to thank you.  You’ve given me so much in such a short time.  I can’t thank you enough.  Because of you, I can fly.  Look at my wings! they grew!  Madam Pomfrey says I’ll be able to use them properly now.”  She was babbling but didn’t care; she needed to tell him how much it all meant to her.  She rolled off the bed and then hugged him tightly with both forelegs and wings.    

“Yes, about that,” he said, bringing one gloved hand to his chin to rub it while he patted her head gently with its mismatched partner.  “I can see that it is an almost perfect growth.  However, there are some imperfections that will work themselves out, given time.  Unfortunately, you are going to have to wait at least a week without flying to avoid the complications that could cause you to lose your new-found freedom.”    

“What??!!”  Scootaloo’s head snapped up and her eyes widened to their fullest extent.  “That is so not fair!”     

“No,” he agreed, chuckling softly, “it’s not.  Nonetheless, it is better than what you had just one day ago.”     

Scootaloo could only nod her head in agreement.  It would be torture not to try her wings for so long, but, in comparison to not having them ever, well, there was no comparison.     


“Don’t look so down.  It really won’t be that long until you can fly on your own.  Meanwhile, you do have your broom.”  Patting her on the head, he gestured to the side table with her things on it.  “Go ahead and put your pendant back on; I have a surprise for you.”     

Despite wanting to relish the sight of her corrected wings, Scootaloo did as she was asked.  The now-human, little girl looked up with pleading eyes.  “Are you sure I have to wait a week?”     

Nodding, he handed her a small copper band.  “Yes, I afraid so.  Now, if you’ll please put this on your finger.”     

Once it was in place Scootaloo asked, “What does this do?”     

“We both know that it would only be a matter of time before you found some reason where you just had to fly.”  He fixed her with a knowing gaze.  “The first function of this ring is to keep you human for two weeks, so don’t even bother trying to remove it.”     

Holding up her hand to look at the offending band, Scootaloo frowned.  “But you said only a week!”     

“Better safe than sorry.”  He then handed over two more rings.  “One of your professors can change into a cat and back at will.  It’s a skill called ‘animagus’.  After a few times observing her, I had an idea.  These mimic the ability quite precisely.  As a matter of fact, they are much more convenient than putting on and taking off a necklace every time you want to change.  Personally, I think you’ll be rather pleased with the results.”     

“These are going to stick Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle in human form too?” Scootaloo asked as she accepted the proffered items.     

“No, they don’t have the potential of causing themselves harm like I know you will.”  He smiled again at the little girl.  “Be patient and you’ll get your wings.  Two weeks are not forever, after all.”     

“I know.”  Scootaloo gave him a small smile.  “It’s just that I’ve had to wait forever already.”     

“I know; waiting is torment given form.”  He gave her a serious look.  “But, I trust you will weather the storm.”     

Scootaloo gave him a look letting him know the absurdity of the statement was not overlooked.     

“One more thing before I go, well two, actually.  First of all, I took fifty galleons from your household account, and secondly, I have two expense forms for you to sign here.”  After receiving the signatures, he turned to leave.  “Enjoy your time at school and don’t forget to cause a little chaos along the way.”     

Scootaloo stared sadly at the copper ring on her finger before smiling and saying, “Thank you again, Discord. I can’t thank you enough for everything.”  Then after a thoughtful pause, she continued, “Oh, you might want to avoid Ponyville for a bit; they’re a little upset that we didn’t leave them a note or anything.”     

<->     

“If’n you want, I can show you my new potions lab now.  Just come up to the dorm with me,” Apple Bloom said to the twins, not long after they returned to the Gryffindor common room.  Scootaloo wasn’t there yet, so the first-years decided to stick around for a while in hope that she would show up soon.     

“We can’t,” one twin said.     

“. . . go up to your dorm.”     

“The stairs don’t like. . .”     

“. . . masculine visitors.”     

“What?” the gathered first years said in unison.     

One of the twins shrugged and said, “Go on and give it a go Ron.”     

Not trusting the twins in the least, Ron nudged Neville.  “Go on. Give it a go.”     

Neville looked at Ron and shrugged.  He then made his way up the stairs to the girls’ dorms followed closely by Dean.  They hadn’t gotten to far up before there was a loud gong noise, and the stairs transformed into a slide, causing the two boys to tumble down back into the common room.     

“See. . .” One twin stated.     

“. . . the stairs. . .”     

“. . . are totally. . .”     

“. . .biased,” they finished together.     

Apple Bloom rubbed her chin thoughtfully for a second then said, “Wait here a sec.”     

She then rushed up the stairs and came back shortly with her shrunken trunk.  She expanded it and opened the lid, showing a staircase leading down.  “Okay. All you boys, in ya go.”  When all the first-year boys and the twins had entered, she closed and shrunk the trunk.  She then went back up the stairs with the shrunken trunk.     

The remaining Gryffindors watched the stairs expectantly for about a minute.  When nothing happened, one of the sixth-year girls turned to her friend and said, “Did a first-year just figure a way around the anti-boy wards?”     

Her friend just dully nodded.     

“Something we’ve been trying to work out for a couple years now, right?”     

Another nod.     

“Right then.”  The sixth-year girl turned to the audience still in the common room.  “This never happened.”  She was met with a wave of like-minded nods.     

<->     

“Cor!” Ron murmured looking around the sitting room.  “It’s right nice in here, it is.”  The rest of the boys agreed and claimed seats to wait in.    

They had barely sat down when the lid opened once more and Apple Bloom called down the stairs, “All right, Fred, George, come on out now.  Ah want to show you mah lab.”  The twins quickly exited and were replaced by Lavender, Parvati, Philomena and Sweetie Belle.     

“It’s about tea time,” Harry noted as he studied the kitchen. “Mind if I whip something up?”  He wanted to contribute to the group, and cooking was something he was good at.     

“Go right ahead,” Sweetie Belle said, making her way over to join him.  “I’ll help.”     

“I’m just planning on doing some quick scones and tea,” Harry said as he opened cupboards, looking for the right supplies.  “Why don’t you have a seat and let me do the work this time?  You still look knackered from all that running around.”     

Sweetie Belle studied him for a second before saying, “Okay, just this once, but you’re going to teach me how to make scones, later.  Whatever they are.”     

Unaware of the disaster he just averted, Harry nodded and said, “Sure, I’ll be glad to show you.  They’re easy enough.”    

<->     

Rainbow Dash sat on a cloud and contemplated her life. It had been pretty good as of late; she had great friends, a good-paying job that didn’t require too much effort, and she had been part of some national-level adventures, even.  Sure, she wasn’t a Wonderbolt, yet, but that dream was becoming more and more attainable as each day passed.  In truth, she had just recently matured to the point where that dream lost its position of prime importance in her life.  She had realized there were things whose value she placed much higher.    

Just last week, if somepony had told her that there was something that she would be willing to sacrifice her Wonderbolt chances for, well, she would have thought that somepony crazy.  What a difference just one week could make.    

These thoughts dredged up memories of her mother.  It still hurt to think about how her mother had disappeared one day, abandoning her and her father with no warning.  Rainbow could not understand how any mare could do that.  The pain resurfaced and left Rainbow wondering how she would stack up as a parent, herself.  Would she be just as awful?  Was it even worth trying?  Did an abandoned filly even have the right to consider being a parent?  How could she even consider not being one?    

<->    

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon.  A muggle government would have given the non-essential workers the day off, but the wizarding bureaucracy mandated that there be at least a skeletal staff available to the public at all hours.  Still, not much ever happened during this time period, and James Tilley was wasting away the afternoon at the counter of the Ministry’s Records Department.  If one were to ask, he’d deny that he was napping standing up.  He was just thinking really hard, and that’s why he missed the entrance of the man in the brown business suit.  Just because James didn’t notice him until he was standing right in front of the counter did not mean James had been napping.     

“Good afternoon,” the man in the brown suit greeted the Ministry employee.  “I have some paperwork to notarize and file if you’d be so kind.”     

Shaking his head slightly and suppressing a yawn, James gave a plastic smile in greeting and said, “Of course, I’ll be glad to help.”    

The man held out a stack of papers.  “I have four copies of each here:  one for the ministry, one for Gringotts, and one each for the families involved.”    

“Good, good,” James said as he used his wand to magically check signatures and add a notarization mark to the forms; only then did it dawn on him what he was notarizing.  The “Daily Prophet” would spend a shiny sickle for this news.    

<->     

Apple Bloom popped open the lid of her trunk and was exiting the sixth compartment when Scootaloo entered the dorm room.  “Hey Scoots.”  She waved as she made way for the twins to follow.  “Where have you been all day?”     

“They fixed my wings!” Scootaloo squealed with the widest smile on her face.    

“Wings?” George asked.     

“You’ve got wings?”     

“That explains. . .”     

“. . . how you fly. . .”     

“. . . like your born to it.”     

“Ah’m so happy for you Scoots!” Apple Bloom said as she hopped over to hug Scootaloo.  “Let me see ‘em! Let me see ‘em!”     

“I can’t.”  Scootaloo looked at her feet in sadly.  “Discord said I have to wait two weeks to avoid hurting myself.  He locked me in human form.”     

“Aww!”  Apple Bloom deflated at the news.  “But at least your wings are fixed now; that’s so wonderful.  Until then, you’ve got your broom.”    

Scootaloo nodded vigorously, unshed tears in her eyes.     

“Here, Fred, hug her for a second,” Apple Bloom ordered and raced back to her trunk.     

One twin turned to the other and said, “You’re Fred.”     

Fred jumped slightly at the news before heading to Scootaloo with his arms open wide.  “Oh, right, I forgot.”     

Scootaloo giggled into his arms, as he fulfilled the terms of a hug, appreciative of the support.     

Meanwhile, Apple Bloom was calling down into her trunk, “Sweetie Belle, come here for a minute!”     

There were sounds of movement from below then, “What’s up?” Sweetie Belle asked as she climbed out of the trunk.     

Apple Bloom leaned close and whispered the news to her.  Sweetie Belle’s eyes went wide and she scurried over to share in the hug between Fred and Scootaloo, shedding tears of happiness the entire way.  “Scootaloo, that’s fabulous!”     

<->     

“I’ve never seen a one o’ them act in that manner afore,” Hagrid was saying to the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, a pale man named Quirrell, who had come seeking confirmation on rumors heard in the halls.  They were standing outside Hagrid’s wooden hut where Quirrell had caught up with the groundskeeper.     

“Surely, th - th - there has been some similar episode in the p - p - p - p - past,” Quirrell stuttered as the late afternoon light beat down on his purple turban.  “She can’t be the first girl to draw a unicorn from the forest in such a m -m - m -m - manner.”     

“I’ve not heard tell of any such thing.”  Hagrid shook his head to the negative.  “Normally, the unicorns, well they avoid any large group o’ humans, they do.  They rarely let new people near enough to get a clear view, let alone come out of the forest to meet one.  Was the most amazin’ thing I’ve evar seen, the way she came right out o’ the forest and trotted right up to that firsty.  Practically, pushed the other firsties out o’ her way, she was in such a hurry, she was.”     

Quirrell paused to consider the news and how it would affect his own contingency plans.  “P -p - please, l - l - let me know if this has any e -  e - e - effect on the other unicorns,” Quirrell told Hagrid as way of saying goodbye.  He had already concluded that the Belle girl would require some scrutiny.     

<->     

Fay entered the first-year dorm, and was not surprised to see that it was empty.  Luckily, the girls had keyed her and the other two female prefects to their trunks’ 5th compartments last night before bed time, making it easier to find them.  Fay started opening trunks, and on her second attempt, she heard voices coming up from the interior of the trunk.  “Sweetie Belle, are you down here?” she called as she descended the stairs.     

“Yes,” came the reply as Fay found the entirety of the first-year class plus the Weasley twins having tea in the crowded sitting room, half their members finding seating on the floor when they had run out of chairs.     

“Tea?” one of the twins offered when he saw the shock showing on the prefect’s face.  “Harry made scones.”     

“Don’t mind if I do,” Fay said, finishing her descent, “but first, Sweetie, Professor McGonagall would like to see you in her office.”     

Sweetie Belle’s face drooped at this news; had Professor McGonagall heard about the whole unicorn incident already?     

“Don’t worry,” Fay said seeing the worried look.  “I don’t think you’re in trouble or anything.”     

“Do you know what she wants?” Sweetie asked defensively.   

“You’ll have to go see for yourself,” Fay replied as she nudged Dean out of one of the chairs to claim as her own.     

“Okay,” Sweetie Belle said as she put down her tea cup and scurried up the stairs, “I just hope you’re right about me not being in trouble.”     

After the girl had made her exit, Fay turned to the remaining occupants of the trunk and asked, “How did you manage to get boys up the stairs, and can you teach me how to do it?”     

“You’re not going to tell on us?” Parvati asked warily.     

“Technically, it’s not against the rules.”  Fay smirked as Harry handed her a cup of tea.  “The charm’s been on the stairs since the time of the founders, and no one has ever bypassed it before.  Before now, there simply has never been a need for such a rule.”    

“Why is there a spell on the girl’s stairs and not on the boys’?” Apple Bloom inquired. “That seems a might unfair.”     

“The founders thought that girls were more trustworthy than boys,” Fay said before she sampled the tea.     

“Isn’t that backwards?” Scootaloo challenged from her seat on the floor.     

<->    

It didn’t take Sweetie Belle long to find her way to Professor McGonagall’s office, just long enough for her to think up all kinds of doomsday scenarios.  She was, therefore, fairly nervous by the time she knocked on the office door.     

“Come in,” was the crisp command issued from within.     

Timidly, Sweetie Belle entered an old-fashioned office, neat and tidy as one would suspect, knowing its owner.  The furniture was all made of dark hardwoods lending an atmosphere of severity to the orderly room.  This was only compounded by the woman sitting behind the desk, who was frowning at a letter she had been reading.     

“Have a seat, please.”  Professor McGonagall gestured at the uncomfortable-looking chair placed in front of her desk.     

Sweetie Belle hurried to comply.  “You wanted to see me, Professor McGonagall?” she stammered once she was seated.     

“Yes, Miss Belle.”  Professor McGonagall put down the letter she had been reading and gave Sweetie her full attention.  “I assume you have read today’s ‘Daily Prophet’.”     

“I’m too young to get married!” Sweetie immediately replied.     

“Indeed, you are,” Professor McGonagall allowed.  “All the same, that is not why I have asked you here today.”     

Sweetie Belle tilted her head inquisitively as she waited for the other horseshoe to drop.     

“No, our present concern is the Wizengamot seat you currently hold.”  Professor McGonagall’s lips pressed together in a thin line.     

“I hold a what now?”     

“You hold a position of power in the wizarding government,” was the clarification Sweetie Belle received.     

“They do know I’m only eleven, right?”    

“They are aware; however, the law is ancient and does not have age stipulations.”  Professor McGonagall never lost her neutral expression on her face.     

Sweetie Belle tried a different angle.  “But, I’m not even a citizen!”      

“Also, irrelevant.”  The gaze of the professor never left Sweetie Belle’s own eyes.  “Part of the purpose of the law is to encourage you to settle on British shores.”     

“But . . . but . . . but . . . but,” Sweetie Belle sputtered, wondering what the buck she had gotten herself into.     

“That pretty much accurately sums up my own reaction,” Professor McGonagall said then gestured at the letter she had been reading.  “I have here a letter commanding you to claim your seat tomorrow at the monthly session.”    

“But . . . but . . . but . . .” Sweetie Belle intelligently supplied.    

“You may, of course, assign a proxy to act in your stead.”    

Sweetie Belle shot Professor McGonagall a hopeful look.  “Would you like to be my proxy?”     

“I’m afraid I wear too many hats as it is.”  Professor McGonagall shook her head.  “Teacher, head of house, and deputy headmistress all take a good portion of my time as it stands.  I would not be able to devote the time necessary for politics.”     

Sweetie Belle thought for a second.  “Okay, but how do I let them know I’ve chosen a proxy?”     

<->     

“I’d say it was about time we go get Hermione,” Parvati stated.  “Supper will be soon, and I’m sure whatever Sweetie Belle was called for will see her at our table in time to eat.  Hermione, on the other hand, seems the sort to ignore the passage of time if she has a book in front of her.”    

This put the discussion of football versus quidditch on hold, which was a good thing since Dean, Seamus, and Ron were starting to get heated in their debate.  Apple Bloom looked up from where she was talking potions with the twins and then reached over to nudge the napping Scootaloo.             

“Huh? What?”  Scootaloo snapped awake.    

“Get a move on, Scoots,” Dean insisted.  “Time to get a meal in ya.”    

“Didn’t we just have scones?” she asked.    

“That was hours ago,” Lavender corrected as she started up the stairs.  “Come now, we have to collect Hermione first.”    

“Why aren’t we traveling by phoenix?” Scootaloo yawned as she gained her feet.    

“Philomena took off a while ago.”  Harry explained, “I think she went to find Sweetie Belle.”    

<->    

Rarity was just finishing her evening dishes when there was a knock on her door.  Humming to herself, she crossed her showroom and opened the door to find Rainbow Dash waiting patiently.    

“Good evening darling,” Rarity drawled, stepping to the side so Rainbow that could enter.  “What a surprise; you don’t normally call so late.”    

“Yeah.”  Rainbow rubbed the back of her head with a hoof.  “I was hoping I could pump you for information.”    

“Pump me for information?”  Rarity closed the door behind Rainbow Dash and led her into sitting room.  “Are you sure you don’t want Twilight instead?”    

“Twilight’s the best for the bookish stuff.”  Rainbow explained.  “What I need now is real hooves-on experience.”    

“Oh?”  Rarity raised an eyebrow in curiosity.  “Are you needing vestments for a special occasion?”    

“No, no.”  Rainbow sat on her haunches and waved her foreleg dismissively. “none of that fru-fru stuff.  I wanted to know how you manage to practically raise Sweetie Belle and still run a successful business.”    

Rarity blinked in surprise.  “That’s a rather specific subject.”  Then, she gasped, “Have you found somepony that you want to have a foal with?”    

“What?!”  Jumping to her hooves Rainbow Dash started shaking her head vigorously.  “No, that’s not it!”    

Rarity couldn’t help but giggle happily at her friend’s discomfort and was about to press the point when an owl flew in an open window.    

“Oh look.”  Rainbow thankfully pointed at the bird.  “You’ve got mail.”    

“So, it would seem,” Rarity acknowledged and retrieved a rather thick envelope from the bird.  “I still think it is odd to send mail by owls.”    

“That looks too official to be from the fillies,” Rainbow noted as she examined the package in Rarity’s magical grasp.    

“Hmm, you are correct,” Rarity opened the envelope.  “I’d better take a look at this; we can continue our conversation in a minute.”    

Pulling out the first page, Rarity read the missive.        

Dear Mrs. Rarity Belle,        

This is your official notice that as of today, one Petunia Dursley has signed the magical guardianship of the minor Harry J. Potter over to your care.  Since the acceptance of said responsibility was part of the contract you signed, there will be no delay in the implementation of the status change.  Also, part of the signed paperwork is the acknowledgement of your right to assign a new caretaker for the minor.  We hope that you take great care with this decision, considering the sensitivity of the matter.        

Sincerely,     

James Tilley    

Ministry of Magic: Hall of Records 

       

While Rainbow Dash looked on curiously, Rarity stared at the page for a second then said, “What?” .  With her eyes narrowing, Rarity pulled out the next page.        

Dear Mrs. Rarity Belle,        

This is your receipt for the filing and notarization of the binding marriage contract between one Harry J. Potter and Sweetie Belle.  Let it be known that the contract has been validated through means of magical inspection and all signatures have been confirmed as authentic.  The original is properly filed in the hall of records and as such considered legally binding.  A copy of the contract has been included for your records.    

Sincerely,     

James Tilley    

Ministry of Magic: Hall of Records 

       

Rarity’s mouth was hanging open by the time she finished the second letter.    

“What?”  Rainbow Dash prodded Rarity’s side with a hoof, “Are the fillies, okay?  What’s wrong?”    

“Rainbow, darling,” Rarity said as she pulled the remaining paperwork from the envelope, “would you be so kind as to fetch me my bat?  I fear I will be needing it after all.”    

<->    

Albus Dumbledore was at his desk, poring over a book detailing the magic theory behind prophecies, when the owl arrived.  Seeing that it was from the ministry, he put a bookmark in the tome he had been reading and examined the missive.  He barely finished the last line before he bounded to his feet and hurried to the floo.  It looked like he would be paying a late-night visit to the Ministry.    

<->         

Arthur Weasley was spending a quiet evening with his wife.  Without the children in the house, the only unexpected noise was the occasional banging from the resident ghoul in the attic.  After a stressful day at work, it was relaxing not to have any immediate worries to concern himself over.    

True to form, just as he was settling into the couch with his wife an owl arrived and started tapping at the window to be let in.  Sighing, Arthur waved his wand to open the window and was dismayed to see it was a ministry owl.  What could they want that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?     

He had barely gotten the letter in hand when another owl arrived and made its way to Molly.  On that one, Arthur could see that it was from his son Bill, no reason for concern.  Taking the dive, Arthur opened his letter and skimmed the contents.  Dumbfounded by what he had gleaned, he reread the letter.  Then to be sure, he read it a third time.    

“What is it dear?” Molly asked apprehensively as she held the unopened letter from Bill.    

“I’ve,” Arthur stopped to lick his lips and tried again, “I’ve been given a proxy seat on the Wizengamot.”    

“You're joking!” Molly gasped, fully aware that the Weasley family had been dreaming of regaining a seat for more than a century.  “How is that even possible?”    

“It appears that we have a phoenix-bound, little unicorn animagus to thank for this.”  Arthur waved the Ministry letter for emphasis.     

The two adults sat in silence for a minute as the implications sank in.  Finally, Arthur said, “Are you going to read Bill’s letter?  There is no way it can be more shocking than this.”    

Tittering at her husband’s attempt at levity, Molly opened her son’s letter and read.  By the time she had finished, her eyes were wide and mouth was gaping open.    

Letting the hand holding the letter drop Molly turned to her husband and said, “Arthur, your son wants to know why it appears he has access to a discretionary account with ten thousand galleons.” 

 
> Chapter 14: Unwanted Attention
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

An annoyingly familiar tenor displaced the cock’s crow in the pre-dawn darkness. “Rarity, it’s time to wake up.”  

Without opening her eyes, the unicorn promptly threw her pillow at the source.  

As  the pest casually batted the pillow away with his lion’s paw, inches  from his face, he wagged a taloned finger at her and scolded, “Now, now,  no need for that.”  

Cracking open an eye, Rarity bounced her alarm clock off his forehead.  

“No, really, time to get up,” the draconequus admonished. 

The bedside table missed him by a few inches.  

“Um,” he said.  

Half asleep, the unicorn summoned for her bat.  

“I’ll come back when you’re more awake,” he said hurriedly and disappeared with a flash of light.  

Sensing  no further disturbance, she plopped her head down to get some more  beauty sleep.  As she drifted off, she mused, “Where’d my pillow go?”  

<->  

There  was an extra-large platter of bacon for breakfast that morning at the  Gryffindor table.  Apparently, the cooks had realized that a  normal-sized one was not going to be enough anymore.  

“What do we have first thing?” Dean casually asked as he made sure to grab his portion of the popular pork product.  

“Herbology.”   Hermione stopped eating her porridge to answer, without looking at her  schedule.  “Didn’t you look so you'd know which books to pack for  class?”  

“All my books fit in my new bag,” he answered, dueling Ron for the pancakes.  “I just stuffed ‘em all in, so I’m good to go.”  

“Same here,” Lavender chirped, patting her shoulder bag.  “Doesn’t add to the weight, so why not?”  

“Books  aside, I’m looking forward to double transformation this afternoon,”  Scootaloo said, also claiming some bacon to see what the fuss was about.   “I’m sure that will come in handy, sooner or later.”  

“Transfiguration,” Hermione and Sweetie Belle corrected at the same time.  

“That’s what I said,” Scootaloo acknowledged.  

Rolling  her eyes, Sweetie Belle added fried eggs to the bacon, lettuce, and  tomato sandwich she was building and started sharing with Philomena.  

<->  

Elsewhere . . .  

“You’se  be wanting to go ins now?” the small creature with eyes as big as  tennis balls asked.  “Whimsy be getting the big-big doors for you.”  

Fitting actions to words, he opened the doors.  

<->  

“I wonder how hard it will be to find the herbology classroom,” Scootaloo mused before she took another bite of bacon.  

“Herbology is taught in those greenhouses we saw outside yesterday,” Lavender informed her.  

“Will  it be safe going to the greenhouses?” Sweetie asked as she finished off  her breakfast sandwich.  “There are rampaging unicorns out there.”  

“Unicorns  aren’t known for their rampaging, Sweetie,” Parvati said, glancing up  to look directly at Sweetie Belle.  “Besides, I think the one behind you  is the only one interested in you right now.”  

Sweetie Belle  returned Parvati’s gaze and said, “That’s not funny, Parvati.  Please  don’t j—” Suddenly, something nudged her left shoulder, and Philomena  trilled a greeting from her other shoulder.  Sweetie Belle exclaimed,  “Oh, horsefeathers!”  

“That’s a unicorn, not a pegasus.”   Hermione noted, “She doesn’t have any feathers.”  Annoyingly, no one  could tell if she were being facetious or just helpful.  

Sighing,  Sweetie Belle turned around and came face to muzzle with a long white  face.  She then checked the rest of her surroundings.  Sure enough, the  entire hall had grown silent, and all attention was focused on the new  four-legged visitor.  The scene was so captivating that the arrival of  the morning post went almost unnoticed.  

“Good morning, would you  like a banana?” Sweetie Belle cautiously addressed the creature.  It  wasn’t a unicorn pony.  Rather, the mare was larger, heavier, and had a  large spiral horn in the middle of her forehead.  Truthfully, she looked  a lot like a larger version of Princess Celestia, only without the flowing  mane, or any indication of pony-level intelligence.  

“Sweetie,”  Lavender admonished as she reached for a tray of peach tarts, “I don’t  think unicorns eat bananas.  Try these instead.”  

“Oh look,” Seamus noted, pointing at the vanishing fruit.  “Unicorns eat bananas.”  

“Still, shouldn’t you have peeled it first?” Harry added as Lavender, unperturbed, handed over the tray of tarts anyway.  

“I’m  no expert on magic castles or anything,” Dean interrupted nodding at  Sweetie Belle’s newest fan.  “But shouldn’t a unicorn showing up for  breakfast rate more than just a ‘Good morning, would you like a  banana?’”  

“There weren’t any apples,” Sweetie Belle countered,  handing another banana over and then, to strike a balance, fed Philomena  a piece of bacon.  

“Did somepony say ‘apples’?” a redhead asked  as she paused in her eating.  Then, when she noticed the unicorn, she  queried, “Oh hey, when did she get here?”  

“Really, Apple Bloom?”  Scootaloo shook her head.  “How can you be so ovivious?”  

“Oblivious,” Hermione and Sweetie Belle automatically corrected.  

“That’s what I said.”  

<->  

Rarity was eating a simple breakfast of English muffins and jam when her quarry put in an appearance.  

“I’m rather miffed at you right now,” she informed him as she dabbed her lips with a cloth napkin.  

“So I gathered,” he acknowledged, running his taloned digits through is beard.  “The table wasn’t very subtle.”  

“Twilight  has counseled that I should wait and hear you out prior to commencing  with the beatings,” Rarity said, pushing her plate away slightly and  focusing on her visitor.  

“Ironically,” Discord said as he  settled into a chair he summoned, “beatings and worse have become richly  deserved.  Let me relay what I have gleaned from the wards around the  house of one Petunia Dursley.  After that, I’ll explain how you can help  me.”  

“I cannot say that I have the proper disposition to help  you at the current time.”  Rarity’s voice was icy and she let her  eyelids close halfway in a glare.  

“That is about to change.”   Discord rested his chin on the balled fist of his lion’s paw, and Rarity  saw a look on his face that bode poorly for whomever was targeted.  

<->  

Alice  was ready to go.  It was time to put what she had learned to the test.   One thing was certain:  by the end of the day, she would either have  justice or she would be fleeing England.  Fortunately, the odds favored  the first option.  

She scrutinized her new outfit one more time,  double checked her satchel and its contents, and then apparated to the  Ministry.  She would be early, so she could afford to stop by the  cafeteria for breakfast.  

<->  

Feeding tarts to the  unicorn and grapes to Philomena, Sweetie Belle wasn’t too preoccupied to  glance at the head table.  As one, the seated, amused professors were  watching her attend to the animals.  “At least it doesn’t look like I’ll  be getting in trouble,” she muttered as she found a tray of apples had  suddenly appeared on the table.  “And I’d better hide these from Apple  Bloom.”  

“Look on the bright side Sweetie.”  Dean grinned at her  broadly.  “You’ve got your biggest surprise for the day out of the way.”   

“Sweetie!” Percy called from down the table, several seats away.  “You’re going to want to read the ‘Daily Prophet!’”  

Sweetie Belle gave Dean the dirtiest possible look she could manage.  He looked at the ceiling and whistled innocently.  

Before  long, Sweetie Belle had an issue of the paper in hand.  Her eyes  flashed over the words and she slammed the paper onto the table.  “OH,  COME ON!!” was heard echoing through the Great Hall.  

Hermione stared at Sweetie Belle, surprised by the sudden outburst.  “What’s so bad?” she asked.  

In  response Sweetie turned to Harry and said, “Stop drinking your pumpkin  juice for a minute.  I’ve got something to tell you.”  

Harry swallowed the juice in his mouth and put down his cup.  “What? Did they get the marriage contract they wanted?”  

“Yup,” Hermione said, having retrieved the paper from the table.  “Looks like your aunt signed on your behalf.”  

Harry looked at Hermione and hoarsely inquired, “You’re joking, right?”  

“About as much as Parvati was joking about the unicorn,” Hermione responded, reading the rest of the article at the same time.  

Harry had no idea what to say, so he turned to look at Sweetie Belle and found the girl was already looking at him.  

“Uh,” he articulated.  

“Uh,” she responded in kind.  

“Erm,” he offered.  

“Aaaaa,” she countered.  

“Gaaaah!” Ginny offered her opinion as she managed to grab hold of the paper.  

“This is going to be one heck of a whirlwind romance with all that exhilarating dialogue,” one of the sixth-year girls noted.  

<->  

Albus  Dumbledore was not a happy man.  His trip to the Ministry the night  before had borne no fruit.  It was bad enough that he had received a  letter notifying him that he was no longer Harry Potter’s magical  guardian, but when he had demanded to examine the paperwork, he had been  denied.  He was the Head Warlock, but he had been denied.  The excuse  had been that it was an agreement between two families, of which he was  not a representative.  If he wanted to contest, he would have to wait  until a tribunal was convened or he petitioned the Wizengamot.  When he  insisted that he was the boy’s magical guardian, the answer had been,  “not anymore.”  

It was a good thing that the Wizengamot would  meet today.  Doubtlessly, he would soon have the leverage needed to  reverse whatever folly the Dursley woman had caused.  Even if the  prophecy were no longer whole, Dumbledore needed to lead the boy to his  destiny, all for the greater good.  

Later than was his habit,  Albus entered the Great Hall to break his fast . . . why was there  another unicorn at the Gryffindor table?  

<->  

“Why did Ginny just run out of here crying?”  Apple Bloom dropped her fork and started to follow after the redhead.  

“Like Scootaloo said,” Lavender started as she fell in behind Apple Bloom.  

“Ovivious,” Parvati finished as she and Scootaloo fell in line as well.  

“Oblivious,”  Hermione corrected absently, her face buried back in the paper,  heedless of both the irony and the impending drama.  

“Now, is not  the time to do twin impressions,” Apple Bloom admonished as she led the  girls out of the Great Hall to console their heartbroken friend.  

Meanwhile,  Harry and Sweetie Belle had gotten to the next stage of their  interactions.  That’s to say they were staring at each other wide-eyed,  neither willing to poke the elephant in the room.  

“You still  need to blink occasionally,” the same sixth-year girl commented,  watching them.  “Breathing would probably help, too.”  

“Ummm,” they both agreed and continued to stare.  

“By  the way,” Hermione interjected, never looking up from the paper, “the  unicorn here is an ‘unfounded rumor’.  Speaking of which, she needs a  name; we can’t keep calling her ‘the unicorn’.”  

“Ma!” Sweetie Belle stated.  

“Gah!” was Harry’s reply.  

“Magah’s  a weird name, but she is your unicorn.”  Hermione nodded turning the  page.  “Are you going to take her with you to the Wizengamot?”  

“Wait?  What?”  Sweetie Belle tore her gaze away from Harry.  

“Ten sickles say that name sticks,” one of the twins commented.  

“She’s not my unicorn,” Sweetie protested.  “You can’t own a unicorn.”  

With  attention focused elsewhere, Harry did what any sane young man in his  situation would do.  He quickly and quietly left. Well, quickly at  least; “quietly” didn’t matter with all the background noise having  returned.  

“No more than you can own a phoenix.”  An elderly  voice intruded on the conversation.  “Nonetheless, she is your unicorn  as much as you are her little girl.”  The headmaster had forgone  breakfast and was investigating the newest addition to the hall.  

“But  . . . but . . . but,” Sweetie sputtered as her mind seized up just  trying to begin to explain how that statement was so fundamentally  wrong.  

“Bringing Magah to the Wizengamot to claim your seat  would be a masterful move,” Albus said, stroking his beard while his  eyes twinkled madly.  “None could dispute your suitability.”  

“I’ve  already got a proxy.”  Sweetie Belle enlightened the headmaster.  “He’s  going to be taking my place; so, I don’t have to go.”  

“You’ve chosen a proxy already?”  Dumbledore expertly hid his disappointment at the news.  

“Yeah,  I wanted to give it to Discord, but he’s not a citizen, and apparently  proxies have to be citizens.”  Sweetie nodded in agreement.  “So, I went  with another.”  

“And yet,” Dumbledore mused out loud, “being  present for the bestowment of your Wizengamot seat would be most  advisable.  I think it would be worth missing one or two morning  classes.”  

“I guess.”  Sweetie Belle relented.  “I can always get notes from Scootaloo.”  

“Very  well.”  The headmaster smiled encouragingly.  “I see no reason to  delay.”  Dumbledore stood straighter and a phoenix flamed into existence  above him.  “Fawkes, if you would be so kind as to transport us.”  

There was a flash of flames and the Great Hall became less interesting for the remaining students.  

<-> 

Trotting  down the main thoroughfare of Ponyville toward Twilight’s library,  Rarity was perturbed -- perturbed and angry.  Actually, “angry” was too  mild a word.  She was both furious and heartsick.  The unusual  seriousness that Discord had displayed should have been a warning; the  suppressed rage should have sent her running.   

Whom was she  kidding?  Even with a warning, she would never have conceptualized what  he had been told her.  All the anger she had been brewing for the  draconequus had evaporated, forgotten and unimportant.  Even knowing now  what had been said, the whole thing seemed a dream.  No, it was a  nightmare.  How could anypony treat a colt that way?  It was  unthinkable.  It was unforgivable.  It was untenable.  It could not be  allowed to continue.  She would not allow it to continue.

In all  honesty, Discord had left loopholes that she could back herself and  Sweetie Belle out of with little or no effort -- loopholes she would not  take if it meant leaving the colt in the environment where he had been  raised.  No responsible pony would even think about taking the easy way  out.  No pony with even an ounce of kindness, mercy, or integrity would  even consider it.  There might as well be no loopholes at all; their  only purpose was to emphasize that she was going forward willingly.  

Then  there was the fact that the colt in question was a human.  The fillies  had spectacularly failed to mention the school they were attending was  populated by humans.  Rarity was painfully aware of the stories about  them.  She lived in a village with Lyra, for Celestia’s sake.  How could  Rarity not know the legends based on what were supposed to be fictional  creatures?  Yesterday, they were something found only in fairy tales;  now she was responsible for the well-being of one. 

What was she  going to do about that?  Equestrian law specifically forbade raising  colts with the intention of having them marry your relatives.  The laws  were meant to prevent removing choice from said colts.  Unscrupulous  ponies had been known to adopt colts with the express intent that they  marry their daughters.  It was some very unpleasant business.  Rarity  knew she would have to pick somepony neutral to raise the colt, but  whom?  It would have to be somepony she could trust, but couldn’t be  somepony close enough that it could be considered a conspiracy.  Who  could she possible impose on to . . . oh wait, it was obvious once she  thought about it. 

Mind made up, Rarity changed course to Town  Hall.  She would need to speak with Mayor Mare, but she didn’t foresee  any difficulties. 

<-> 

Sweetie Belle was no longer on  school grounds; that much was evident.  She was somewhere indoors, the  stone ceiling belied the otherwise outdoors ambiance.  There were  wizards and witches everywhere, with their robes and their stares.  It  was their stares that were annoying, mainly because they seemed focused  on her.  No, wait.  They were focused on the unicorn behind her.  Magah  stood there glaring at anyone who might be a threat to Sweetie, warning  them not to even try to assault her.  Wait.  When was it decided her  name would be Magah? 

“Well then,” Dumbledore said with Fawkes perched on his shoulder.  “We seem to be the cause of a spectacle.”  

Sweetie looked up at him with Philomena on her own shoulder, trilling softly.  “They seem surprised to see Magah.” 

“I  do believe this is the first time a unicorn has made her way to the  ministry,” he chuckled.  “It is a singularly remarkable happenstance.” 

“We could just leave,” Sweetie suggested, intimidated by all the attention. 

“Do  not worry,” Dumbledore gently chided.  “They are just curious.  After  all, one does not see two phoenixes and a unicorn every day.” 

“I see unicorns every day,” Sweetie reminded him.  “The two phoenixes are new though.” 

“Perhaps,”  Dumbledore said as he made his way over to the check-in desk, “but that  makes the occasion no less noteworthy.  This young wizard here will be  needing your wand to weigh it.” 

Sweetie Belle warily eyed the human stallion behind the desk then surrendered her wand to be tested. 

<-> 

Lucius  Malfoy watched as Arthur Weasley strutted into the Wizengamot waiting  chambers, radiating an aura of elation.  “What do you think you’re  doing?”  Lucius sneered, looking down his nose as if the man before him  were a piece of offal.  “Only Wizengamot members and servants are  allowed in here.” 

“Yes, that’s true,” Mr. Weasley agreed as he  claimed a comfy chair next to the Longbottom matron and otherwise  ignoring Malfoy.  “Good morning, Augusta.  How are you doing?” 

“I  am well, Arthur,” the old woman responded formally.  “Has your family  regained what was lost?  If so, let me be the first to congratulate you  and yours.” 

Arthur tilted his head toward her in acknowledgement.  “Thank you.  I’m delighted to tell you that I will be sitting as proxy.” 

Damnation!   The brat had appointed a proxy.  Lucius was incensed; she had chosen  the worst possible family imaginable.  She had literally just handed  Dumbledore a guaranteed vote for whatever he wanted.  Worse, even when  she was removed, the seat would remain and in the hands of those blood  traitors.  Once the seat was acknowledged by the assembly, the damage  would be permanent.  The only option he had was clear; he was going to  have to delay the bestowal and rush the accident along, if there was to  be any hope of averting the travesty.  If Weasley was here without the  child, then it was apparent that he was planning on the fools just  handing him the seat.  It would be easy; all Lucius had to do was insist  that the girl show proof of the phoenix to the Wizengamot.  Seats  couldn’t be passed out due to rumors after all.  That would give him a  month before the girl showed up at the next meeting, only he would make  sure she didn’t show up. 

Plans made, Lucius sauntered out of the  waiting area; he could wait in the assembly hall.  The waiting chambers  had lost their appeal as he began to prepare his trap.  

<-> 

Sweetie  Belle hurried out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened.  The car  had been too small at first, but all it had taken was a few waves of  her headmaster’s wand, and it was big enough to accommodate everyone,  including Magah.  In her own honest opinion, Sweetie thought the car was  still too small.  In her haste, she ran into an older witch with a  monocle and grey hair.  

The witch studied her briefly, seemingly  paying close attention to her pink and purple mane.  “Well Albus, the  rumors appear to be true.  You brought a unicorn, as well as the new  phoenix-bonded.” 

Albus let his eyes twinkle as he tilted his head  slightly in greeting.  “Indeed.  After all, Amelia, what better way is  there to start the morning than with a couple phoenixes and maybe a  unicorn or two?” 

Amelia narrowed her eyes slightly, “Should we be expecting another unicorn to show up?” 

Dumbledore chuckled knowingly, “I doubt any more unicorns will be arriving today.” 

Amelia  studied him suspiciously for a few seconds, then turned to the little  girl who had run into her.  “You must be Sweetie Belle,” she said.  “My  name is Amelia Bones, I am head of the DMLE.”   

“Pleased to meet  you.”  Sweetie sent out her most winning smile and Philomena trilled her  own greeting from Sweetie’s shoulder.  “Yes, I’m Sweetie Belle.” Then  Sweetie was firmly pushed out of the way as Magah decided she wasn’t  staying in the elevator any longer. 

“You’ve made the headlines of  the 'Daily Prophet' two days in a row now, young lady.”  Amelia  continued to scrutinize the child.  “Is it true you have a marriage  contract with Harry Potter?” 

“Maybe?” Sweetie Belle answered truthfully. 

Amelia raised an eyebrow at the response.  “You don’t know?” 

“The morning paper was the first I heard of it,” Sweetie admitted. 

“You  can’t believe everything you read,” Dumbledore said; he hadn’t read the  morning paper and was hearing the rumor for the first time.  He had  already negotiated a marriage contract between Harry and Ginevra; any  other contracts would not be according to his plans and would have to be  voided -- with prejudice. 

<-> 

The cream-colored  earth pony was industriously wrapping individual pieces of candy,  skillfully keeping her pink and blue mane out of the product.  They were  a mixture of tasty fillings inside various types of chocolate shells.   The candies were, in fact, commonly known as a bonbon, which was  slightly ironic, considering that was the name by which the pony was  known.  

Humming happily to herself, she was reaching for one of  the tasty caramel-filled ones when the front door of her candy shop  slammed open.  Alarmed, Bonbon shot a look at the entrance and saw that  the culprit was none other than her partner Lyra.  The mint-colored  unicorn was hopping up and down excitedly with a grin that would have  given Pinkie Pie a run for her bits.   

“Bonbon! Bonbon!”  Lyra pronked over to the mare in question.  “Guess what! Guess what!”  

Vowing  to cut back on the sugar content in Lyra’s diet, Bonbon smiled at the  unicorn’s obvious excitement.  “You got invited to play at the Grand  Galloping Gala?” she ventured. 

“Better!”  Lyra stood on her hind  legs and threw her forelegs wide to share the news.  “Rarity’s going to  let us take care of her pet human!” 

<-> 

Lucius had  cornered a trio of neutral faction voters.  For four minutes, he had  explained to them the importance of the individual receiving the honor  being present for the bestowal of their Wizengamot seat.  He had  insisted that it was unbecoming to send a proxy to procure the honor in  their stead, even with school being in session.  He slyly hinted that  they should hold off until next meeting to force the rumored  phoenix-bonded to actually show up.  

Satisfied that he would have  more than enough votes to force a delay, Lucius rubbed his hands in  anticipation as he made his way to his seat.  The hubbub of the chamber  abruptly stopped, as if a switch had been thrown.  Lucius stopped and  turned to look where everyone was staring.

From atop the pure  white unicorn, the absurdly pink- and purple-haired girl said into the  stunned silence, “Um, how am I supposed to get down?”  The phoenix  perched on her shoulder trilled in amusement.

Frowning, Lucius had  to concede that he would not be able to stop the Weasleys from getting  the proxy.  All his efforts were for naught.  He could already see that  this was going to be an assembly remembered for generations to come. 

<-> 

Smiling  to himself, Dumbledore made his way to the Head Warlock podium.  It had  been a nice touch to have Sweetie Belle ride Magah into the chamber.   It simultaneously put her on display and kept her preoccupied.  Then  there was the pleasant surprise that she had picked Arthur as her proxy.   The disappointment he had felt earlier had been unfounded; he couldn’t  have asked for a more favorable selection. 

When he took his  spot, the murmuring started as people made their ways to their seats.   It was evident that most, if not all, Wizengamot members had decided to  attend this assembly, and the spectator seats seemed to be filled to  capacity as well.  This was going to be an assembly remembered for  generations to come. 

<-> 

Minister Fudge was a portly  little man, a portly little man who hated when others had the limelight  and excluded him.  Dumbledore had done just that.  The opportunity to  connect this young girl’s first public appearance with the office of the  minister had been missed.  He was well aware that if he tried to put in  an appearance with the girl while she was on the unicorn, wizards would  subconsciously note that he was in the inferior position.  Fudge would  have to wait until she dismounted; then, she would be fair game. 

Gritting  his teeth, the minister had to acknowledge something to himself, even  though he saw no immediate way to capitalize on it.  This was going to  be an assembly remembered for generations to come. 

<-> 

Alice  rubbernecked from her seat with the spectators.  The young girl really  did have a phoenix!  There were two phoenixes in the chambers, one on  the shoulder of the head warlock, and one on the shoulder of the girl!   That would be stunning by itself, never mind that she was riding a  unicorn.  Such a scene had been hinted at in legends but never actually  witnessed by a crowd before.  Unicorns didn’t generally let people ride  on their backs.  The girl looked unsure of herself, unused to being the  center of attention, but she had a bloody phoenix and unicorn!  She  might as well just declare herself a princess at this point; she’d have  the votes to back her claim. 

Oh yes, an ally of the light was  dominating the floor, unaware of her own importance.  This was glorious!   Even before Alice had gotten her chance, this was going to be an  assembly remembered for generations to come!
> Chapter 15: Government Chambers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The empty hallways of the castle flashed by unnoticed as tears all  but blocked her vision.  She had been so elated that she would be able  to experience them early.  The last week had been the best of her life:   new friends, new clothes, new surroundings, and, best of all,  acceptance.  It was too good to be true, too good to last.  It didn’t  last; it only led to the worst moment of her life.  In that instant, her  life was over.  Her dream was lost, her existence meaningless.  Without  even trying, her new friend had ripped it all from her.  With her  purpose gone, she found an alcove to sink into and lost herself to the  tears.  

How long was she there?  She didn’t know, maybe a minute,  maybe an hour, maybe a week.  Her misery defied time keeping, consuming  her very being with its all-encompassing presence.  

“Ginny?”   Apple Bloom’s voice gingerly intruded into her despair.  “Ginny, we’re  here for you.  Whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone.”  

Sniffling  pathetically, Ginny fixated on the caring voice, both craving the  tenderness and dreading the presence of the companion of the one who had  stolen her dreams.  Before she could protest, she was wrapped in a hug.   

“We’re your friends Ginny,” Apple Bloom insisted firmly.  “We overcome our problems together.”  

“Yeah,” Ginny heard Scootaloo assert as another pair of arms engulfed her, “we stick together.”  

“Parvati  and I are here for you too,” Lavender said as she added her arms to the  group hug.  “I know you had your heart set on Harry, but you can’t let  it get you down.”  

“What did Harry do?” Apple Bloom asked, unaware of what happened.  

“Looks like he got entered in a marriage contract with Sweetie,” Parvati explained, “trumping Ginny’s claim.”  

“That’s  not a problem,” Scootaloo cooed encouragingly at Ginny.  “I’m sure  Sweetie will vote on letting you into our herd agreement.”  

“Wait!! What!?!” Lavender, Parvati and Ginny all exclaimed at the same time, turning to stare at Scootaloo.  

Gryffindor  house would lose fifty points for having five of their members miss the  first Herbology class of their school careers.  This was acceptable as  far as everyone involved was concerned, even before the sixty points  were awarded for loyalty.  

<->  

Sweetie Belle stared  cautiously at the crowded audience full of humans.  Thankfully, Mr.  Weasley had come forward and helped her down from Magah, who was once  again standing next to Sweetie protectively.  Wordlessly, the assembly  stared back, the expressions of shock still prevalent on most faces.  

Screwing  up her courage, Sweetie Belle waved and said in a strong voice,  “Hello?”  Her greeting was backed by a boisterous trill from Philomena  and a playful front hoof stomp from Magah.  

Hesitantly, about two  thirds of the humans waved back, and, here and there throughout the  crowd, faint greetings were heard in response.  

Sweetie tried again.  “I hope you are all feeling well this morning.”   

The  humans all nodded, denoting their mornings had been fine.  This proved  to be more than slightly amusing; a couple hundred grown witches and  wizards were apparently intimidated by the little girl standing in the  center of the assembly chamber.    

The sound of wood striking  wood demanded the attention of everyone present as Albus Dumbledore  stood behind his podium with the full aura of the Chief Warlock  emanating from him.  “Good morning.”  He paused, waiting for the  undivided attention of all present.  “As Chief Warlock, I hereby call  this assembly of the Wizengamot to order.”  

His announcement was  met with a smattering of murmurs, and the audience settled more firmly  into their seats to witness the proceedings.   

“The customary  commencement by opening of the floor to new business shall be pushed  back.  In lieu, we shall begin with the appointment of a new seat in  accordance to the ancient laws.”  Dumbledore continued, laying his gavel  on the pedestal before him, “As I am sure you are all aware,  phoenix-bonded individuals are to be granted a seat on the Wizengamot at  the earliest opportunity.  This law, in fact, predates the formation of  the Ministry itself.”  He paused for dramatic effect as all eyes once  again sought out the little girl with the phoenix on her shoulder.  “I  present to you Miss Sweetie Belle, obviously a claimant for the  application of said law.”  

The chamber suddenly broke into  applause, and loud shouts of elation and approval filled the air.   Forgetting her stage fright, Sweetie Belle stood taller while Philomena  spread her wings wide, basking in the adoration and framing Sweetie’s  head with reds and golds.  For no reason that she could name, Sweetie  Belle started waving at the gathered humans.  

Lucius frowned as  even members of the Wizengamot started to stand to emphasize their own  applause.  She had yet to address the council, and already the cost and  danger of neutralizing her had risen dramatically, so much, in fact,  that he would have to increase the buffer between himself and whomever  would be responsible for the deed.  Even a hint of his involvement would  be disastrous, even if found baseless.   

Dumbledore let the  maelstrom of emotion continue for a full minute before once again  banging his gavel for attention.  “Order.  Order,” he said, never  raising his voice yet easily heard by all, and order was quickly  reestablished.   

“It is now time to hear any arguments against  the immediate application of the law,” Dumbledore said, turning to the  gathered Wizengamot.  “Are there any here who wish to voice  opposition?”   

A tall member of the Wizengamot immediately stood, his pale blonde hair pulled back in a braid.  

“Yes, Mr. Yaxley?” Dumbledore politely acknowledged, bringing the man to the assembly’s attention.  

Yaxley  looked down his nose at Sweetie Belle, who was still standing on  display in the center of the arena with Mr. Weasley and her animal  companions.  “This child is much too young for the honor.”  He asserted,  “She is not ready to take her place among us.”  

“Yaxley, you  fool,” Madam Longbottom said from her seat.  “The law does not have an  age limit, and she has already named a proxy.  Your argument isn’t worth  the breath it took you to utter it.”  

Affronted by the rude  interruption and suddenly aware of the hostile glares from the majority  of onlookers, Yaxley sullenly sat back down without another word.  

Dumbledore  had watched the exchange with a hint of amusement on his lips.  “I  see,” he said after Yaxley retook his seat.  “Are there any other  pertinent arguments to be voiced?”  When no one else was rash enough to  voice dissent, he continued, “Are there any here who wish to voice their  support?”  

There was a rush as members of the Wizengamot clambered to their feet, vying for the right to back the young phoenix-bonded.  

<->  

Garrick  Ollivander was in his shop’s back room, putting a series of intricate  runes on his latest creation.  It was aspen, looking to end up around  eighteen and a half inches, yet another masterpiece in his quest for  perfection.  

Abruptly, he heard the chiming of the shop bells  announcing the arrival of a customer even as his wards informed him of  the same.  Bothered slightly at the interruption to his crafting, he put  on his customary smile and ventured out into the main room to see to  his visitor.  

Ollivander sucked in a quick breath when he beheld  one of the most gorgeous women he had ever had the pleasure of meeting.   In a lavish white dress, she was standing next to a handsome man in an  impressive brown business suit.  A hasty aura check flaunted none of the  tells for a veela, and Ollivander promptly surmised that he had seen  this woman’s daughter not too long ago.  Purple hair was not that  common, after all.  

Stepping from the shadows, he let his  presence be known.  “Good morning, Mrs. Belle,” he said in his normal  eccentric voice.  “How may I help you this morning?”  

She started  slightly at his appearance, while the man beside her never showed a  hint of surprise.  “Hello, darling.”  She flashed a devastatingly  brilliant smile.  “I find myself in need of a wand.”  

<->  

For  nearly forty minutes, the members of the Wizengamot gushed at the  inclusion of a second phoenix-bonded into their ranks.  And she was not  just a phoenix-bonded; she was a phoenix-bonded with a loyal unicorn.   Most notably, the Minister had taken the time to welcome her into the  fold.  Finally, when the vote was called, it proved to be unanimous with  even Yaxley unwilling to vote in opposition.    

At his podium,  Dumbledore beamed as he witnessed the considerable shift in the  political playing field.  Sweetie Belle might not know it yet, but she  had changed the direction and destiny of the British Wizarding World.   Now, all he had to do was regain control of Harry Potter, and Albus was  sure he could guide it to a prosperous future.  

Satisfied with  the bestowment of the Wizengamot seat, Dumbledore once more banged his  gavel, drawing attention to himself.  “Now that your proxy sits in your  stead,” he said, focusing on Sweetie Belle, “perhaps it would be wise to  return you to your studies.”  

Sweetie Belle nodded her assent.   Having become bored by all the speeches in her honor, she was anxious to  be out of the limelight.  

“Very well.”  Dumbledore then switched  his focus to the bird on her shoulder.  “Would you be so kind as to  return Miss Belle and her unicorn to Hogwarts?”  

Philomena trilled her consent, and with a flash of flames, the center of the arena stood empty.  

<->  

Stumbling  slightly, Sweetie Belle found herself back in the Great Hall.  Aside  from herself, Philomena, and Magah, it was unoccupied.  Sighing, Sweetie  muttered to Philomena, “I have no idea where I’m supposed to be right  now.”  

The phoenix cooed softly, and Magah nudged her gently.  

<->  

The  flashy exit had caused another round of clapping, and Dumbledore let it  die out naturally before returning the meeting to order.  “I thank you  all for your support of our newest member, and on that note, it is time  to return to the mundane responsibilities of governing.  At this time,  the floor is open to anyone wishing to present new business.”  

Immediately  a witch near the back of the of the spectator section stood and said,  “I have new business to be brought before the Wizengamot!”  

The  Minister’s undersecretary, a toad-like woman by the name of Umbridge,  promptly spoke up, “It is customary that those not on the Wizengamot to  submit their business in writing before meetings, so as to avoid the  wasting of our esteemed members' time.”  

“Custom is not law.”  The  witch with raven-black hair barley acknowledged Umbridge’s presence.   “By law, any may address the assembly when the floor is open, and I am  demanding that right.”  

Dumbledore was intrigued; one of his  former students was making a scene.  He was well aware that the young  witch was correct, though not many knew of the law.  In living memory,  supplicants had been encouraged to have their requests filtered through  the system first.   

“Very well,” the Chief Warlock said as he cut  off Umbridge’s reply.  “You have the floor Miss Rutter.  What new  business do you have for us today?”  

A predatory smile crossed  the woman’s face as she made her way to the center of the arena, forcing  the halt of all conversation as curiosity rose in all who watched.   Upon reaching her destination, she stood tall and declared, “My name is  Alice Rutter.  I hereby invoke the rite of Iustitia est Infirma.”   

A  hush fell upon the members of the Wizengamot even as the chatter  increased among the spectators.  How had this witch learned of that  rite?!  Many generations of legislators had done their best to quash  knowledge of that law.  How could they not?  It was designed to hold  them accountable for the power they held.  

“That is outrageous!” a wizard of the Wizengamot shouted.  “That rite has not been invoked in over two hundred years!”  

“And yet it is being invoked today,” Alice returned, unfazed.  

“I will not stand for this travesty!” the same member raged on, standing to emphasize his point.  

“Then sit,” Alice commanded, “unless you would interrupt my rite yet a third time.”  

“You dare threaten me?”  The Wizengamot member foamed from his mouth at the audacity of the nobody.  

Not  giving the man a second glance, Alice turned to Dumbledore and said,  “Please seal the chamber and penalize him for thrice interfering.”  

Dumbledore looked at the woman before him and said, “Miss Rutter, I see no . . .”  

But  that was as far as he got before Alice cut him off.  “Chief Warlock, do  your duty.  Seal the chamber, and penalize him according to the law.”  

Taken  aback, Dumbledore measured the woman before him with his gaze.  “Let it  be known, these chambers are now sealed for the rite of Iustitia est  Infirma.  No magic is possible from those present; none may enter or  leave until the matter is resolved.”    

With a bang of his gavel,  magic pulsed throughout the chamber.  Where there once were doors,  there now were only stone walls.  Everyone present felt the ancient  magic take hold.  Whatever this rite was, it was serious business.  

“Very well.”  Dumbledore returned his gaze to Alice.  “The ritual is in place.  You may proceed.”  

“First, apply the penalty,” Alice insisted, nodding to the still-standing member of the Wizengamot.  

“Mr.  Nott,” Dumbledore addressed the standing man, “let it be known that, in  accordance with our most ancient laws, you are to forfeit ten percent  of your total holdings to Miss Rutter for thrice interfering with the  rite of Iustitia est Infirma.  Please be seated.”  

“How dare she!” Nott started.  

“Would you care to make it twenty percent?” Alice asked; she, like Dumbledore, never raised her voice, yet was heard by all.  

Glowering,  Nott abruptly ceased his ravings.  With a glare that promised a swift  demise, he sat down.  Amid the bystanders, the whispering flourished.   Ten percent of a noble house’s wealth was no small chunk of change.  If  she gained nothing else from her strategy today, she at least got enough  money to properly hide from her new enemy.  

Alice stood in the  center of the arena and powerfully proclaimed, “In accordance with this  rite, I accuse Lucius Malfoy of willfully murdering my father.  I  further charge him with raping my mother, torturing them both, and being  an accomplice to my mother’s murder.  I demand retribution!”  

A hush fell and the proverbial pin could have been heard.  

For  an eternity of ten seconds, no one spoke.  Then, Umbridge leapt to her  feet.  “How dare you!” she screamed.  “How dare you accuse such a fine  upstanding member of our society of such crimes?!  I’ll have you know  that the Ministry cleared him of all charges due to being under the  Imperius Curse.  You will apologize immediately for your insolence!”   

“I  will apologize only if he swears he did not willingly commit those  acts,” Alice returned coldly.  “The rite will cause his own magic to  judge him.  If he is innocent, he will be unharmed and I will gladly  apologize.  If he did it of his own free will and swears he didn’t, he  forfeits not only his life, but also his magic, and all further claims I  have against him today are automatically considered valid.”  

“How dare you!” Umbridge fumed, her eyes narrowing in anger.  “Do you know who I am?”  

“Yes.”  Alice crossed her arms.  “You are the woman who twice interrupted the rite.  Care to go for a third time?”   

For  a second, greed warred with indignation across Umbridge’s face.  The  toad-like woman sat down as indignation lost.  She would let Lucius deal  with this upstart.  

Looking on with fascination, Dumbledore was  elated.  This sort of situation was exactly why the rite had been  conceived in the first place.  If only it weren’t a slap in the face for  the Wizengamot, literally undermining their authority.  “Mr. Malfoy,”  he seriously intoned, “you stand accused.  How will you answer the  charges?”  

Lucius was indignant; he didn’t even remember this  trash’s parents, but it was all too likely they had been targets of a  raid.  He couldn’t risk his life and magic over the uncertainty; that  left him only one option.  Gritting his teeth, he stood and addressed  the room.  “It is with great sorrow that I once again stand in suspicion  over my actions during those troubling times.  However, I do not hold  it against Miss Rutter for seeking closure.  In the spirit of good  faith, I shall willingly pay the prescribed penalty mandated by our laws  as a peace offering.”  With those words, he retook his seat.  

Seething  inside, he contemplated how the penalty was a percentage of his total  worth, not set as a paltry amount that would be hurtful to one of less  means, yet meaningless to one such as he.  Lucius had just agreed to pay  more of his fortune than Nott had lost due to his stupidity.  Once this  meeting was complete, he’d have to sign everything over to Draco, lest  others take the path that the lowborn trash had demonstrated.  

Not  surprised in the least that Lucius had taken the coward’s way out,  Dumbledore turned back to Alice.  “It would seem that you shall receive  the retribution you desired.  Are you done with the rite?”  

Not  taking her eyes off Lucius, Alice reached into a satchel hanging at her  side and withdrew a scroll.  “No,” she said, “I’m just getting started.”   

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at that statement, “Very well, continue.”  

“By  the old laws, I claim the right to speak for those wronged by this man  in a similar manner,” Alice formally recited.  “As such, I accuse Lucius  Malfoy of the willful murder of one Jacob Smith.”  

“You seem to have a list there,” Dumbledore noted.  “Would you care to make all your accusations en masse?”  

“No,”  Alice replied.  “These are all separate, serious offenses.  I have no  desire for him to reduce his liability by lumping them all together.”  

“I  see.”  Dumbledore relented as he turned his attention back to Lucius.   “You may swear on your life and magic at any time to refute any and all  charges,” he reminded the head of House Malfoy.  

<->  

Humming  to himself, Dylan placed the final touches on Miss Belle’s latest  order.  The project cost more than all of her other purchases combined,  and he was determined that she would get her money’s worth.  He was  unmotivated by the rumors the “Daily Prophet” had printed about her.   Instead, he was motivated by professional pride and an honest fondness  for the girl.  

Carefully shrinking the final product, he prepared instructions and went to fetch an owl.  

<->  

It was only due to blind luck that Sweetie Belle found the group of Gryffindor girls huddled in an alcove.     

“Hey, Sweetie!”  Lavender motioned for Sweetie to come closer.  “Why aren’t you in class?”  

“I  was going to ask you the same thing.”  Sweetie hurried over, still  being followed by Magah.  “I just got back from being bored at the  Wizengamot.”  

“Ginny was mighty upset over the whole marriage  contract thing,” Scootaloo said gesturing to the youngest Gryffindor.   “She needed our support more than we needed to be in class.”  

“I’ll bet the professors don’t see it that way,” Parvati commented.  “We’d better make it to our next class.”  

“How’s Ginny doing?” Sweetie ignored the warning, more anxious over her new friend than the new school.  

“I’m  better.”  Ginny sniffed.  “I can’t be mad at you, since you didn’t want  the contract in the first place.”  Her voice broke near the end of the  sentence.  The situation still hurt, but she was determined not to take  it out on the girl who was trying so hard to be a friend.  

“Dumbledore  said I shouldn’t believe everything I read.”  Sweetie tried to console  the girl by squeezing in to give her a hug.  “I mean, what are the odds  of there actually being a marriage contract?  I mean it was just in the  paper yesterday.”  

“Discord is hanging around,” Apple Bloom reminded Sweetie Belle.  

“Let’s  not give him ideas,” Scootaloo suggested, getting to her feet and  jerking her head toward the hallway.  “We passed a bathroom on the way  here; we should go get cleaned up and get to our classes.  I don’t wanna  lose more points than that whole potion insistent.”  

Sweetie Belle reflexively corrected, “Incident.” 

Scootaloo groaned.  “That’s what I said.” 

Though  the issue hadn’t been resolved, no one felt they needed to dwell on it  any longer.  They would face the challenge together when the time came.   

<->  

“Lucius Malfoy.”  Dumbledore’s voice was heard  by every witch and wizard in the Wizengamot chamber, the disgust  plainly evident.  “You stand accused of nineteen separate murders, as  well as being an accessory to forty-two others.  And, let us not forget  the charges of rape and torture.  Will you say nothing in your defense?”   

The head of House Malfoy sat unresponsive in his seat.  His  fortune was gone.  The mudblood trash had just ruined him with her  demands for retribution, her pathetic pleas for justice.  To protect his  wealth, he needed to swear that he hadn’t willingly participated in the  cleansing, something he couldn’t do.  As soon as he opened his mouth,  the rite would know he was lying.  He would die without his magic.   Then, every accusation would become valid and the Malfoy family would  still be knutless.  

The only thing left for his heir would be the  trust fund.  That was untouchable since it was in Draco’s name alone.   Lucius had made sure there was enough so that his son would never need  to work even if the worst happened.  He never truly really believed the  worst would happen.  Shockingly, the worst had happened.  The Malfoys  were now on the same level as the blood traitors, the Weasley clan.   Malfoy Sr. knew he would have to pack up and rely on distant family  members in France.  The disgrace was unbearable.  

Seeing that he  would get no reaction from Lucius, Dumbledore addressed Alice once  more.  “These are disturbing allegations you make this day.  I must ask,  are there any other charges you wish to levy?”  

“Yes.”  Alice  nodded, unrolling her scroll to read the next section.  “I have here a  list of bribes he made to the Minister and other officials.  They have  significantly undermined the Ministry and need to be brought to light.”   

“How dare you accuse the Minister of taking bribes!” Umbridge howled, once more leaping from her seat waving her fist.  

With exaggerated calmness, Alice merely looked at her and said, “That’s three.”  

<->  

The  girls were exiting the bathroom as the older students also took to the  halls for the changing of classes.  In the manner of young children  everywhere, sorrows were forgotten and the excitement of new experiences  once more prevailed among the Gryffindor firsties.  

Abruptly, the shout of “Mouse! Mouse! Mouse!” went up and a blue blur wove in and out of the student’s legs.  

Startled,  Apple Bloom planted her feet firmly and grunted lightly as she easily  took the weight, “Really?” she groused a few seconds later.  “All five  of ya?”  

“You’re heavy!” Sweetie groaned from her spot, on top of Apple Bloom’s back.  

“It’s safer up here,” Parvati explained.  

“Careful,” Ginny added, “I almost bonked my head on the ceiling.  

“Do  you see it?” Lavender asked, adjusting her grip on Scootaloo while she in turn effortlessly balanced Ginny's mass.

From down the hall they heard some guy shout, “Bloody hell, that thing really does bite!”  

“It’s over thar,” Apple Bloom helpfully answered Lavender.  

<->  

Minister  Fudge sat and watched as his career swirled down the drain.  He had  forgotten half of the occasions Alice had mentioned, but he recognized  them when she brought them to light.  There would be no false claims of  innocence while the ancient magic filled the room.  

It was going  to take some skillful tapdancing to hold onto his job once this accursed  rite was complete.  Lucius had not denied any of the murders, and the  public knew that Fudge had called him a trusted advisor on many  occasions.  It was going to be almost impossible to distance himself  from the man.  It was going to be almost impossible to hold onto any  respect.  It was going to be troublesome to avoid the prescribed  penalties for accepting bribes and getting caught.  Most of all, it was  imperative that he avoid any time in Azkaban.  

Where had the  troublemaker gotten her information?  Her list was too complete, too  accurate.  The morning wasn’t even half over, and Fudge already knew  that he was sitting in the Minister’s chair for the last time.  

<->  

Dumbledore  patiently stood behind his podium and watched as his opposition was  being stripped of its power.  Without his money, Malfoy would be  neutered.  With the accusations made before the Wizengamot left  uncontested, Malfoy would be forced to forfeit his seat at the very  least.  It was entirely possible that there would be an investigation  called on all the former Death Eaters who had escaped prison with the  Imperius Curse as their defense.  

It would take some careful  negotiating to help the ones who must be left free to carry on their  family names.  After all, it wouldn’t do to let all those lines die out  for the mistakes of a rare few of their members.  They must be given the  chance to atone for their mistakes and live better lives.  

Still,  it would make things so much easier once Malfoy was no longer a major  player in the game.  The morning was not yet half over and already this  had been a council meeting that would be remembered for generations to  come.  

<->  

Alice stood in the center of the  assembly, calmly reading from the scroll the stranger had provided.  She  was just getting started and already she had Malfoy exactly where she  wanted him.  Justice was coming.  

She wasn’t a bad person; she  didn’t generally wish harm on others.  She could have told herself that  she was doing this so Malfoy could not hurt others in the future, and  there would be some truth to that.   But she wouldn’t lie, especially to  herself; she was doing this for her father, for her mother, for  herself.  Revenge was at hand.  Finally, after all these years, she was  going to get satisfaction.  If only it didn’t feel so hollow.
> Chapter 16: Legal Babble
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chatting lightly among themselves, the Gryffindor boys followed Hermione to their second class.  Herbology had been interesting, maybe more so for Neville than for anyone else.  The first class had consisted of some very basic plant knowledge and a detailed tour of the first greenhouse.  There were several greenhouses, but the first-years were only allowed in one.  Supposedly, the plants could get dangerous in the others.

“So, Harry,” Dean teased, “what’s it like having a marriage contract?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Harry replied; he had honestly put the concept out of his mind during class.  “I’ve never had one before.  I’m not even sure what to say to Sweetie about it.”

“That much is obvious,” Seamus snickered.

“You’ve got years to figure it out,” Hermione informed Harry.  “The contract doesn’t become effective until you both turn seventeen.”

“Me,” Ron interjected, “I wanna be there when you tell your owl.”

“Hedwig doesn’t need to know,” Harry hastily proclaimed, sending Ron a glare.  “She needs time to forget the whole ‘eating owls’ thing.”

“Eating owls?” Hermione inquired, turning to look at Harry.  “I think I’m missing something here.”

“Sweetie asked if owls were good to eat.”  Ron shrugged as he continued, “While she was holding Hedwig’s cage.  Why do you think Scabbers hides whenever her name is mentioned?”

“Scabbers is a rat.”  Seamus protested, “He shouldn’t care if people eat owls.”

“She asked about eating rats earlier,” Ron said, “while we were getting ready for the train.  He’s been terrified of her ever since.”

“You’d think she’s never had meat before, the way she goes on at meals,” Dean observed as they turned a corner.

“She does like her meat,” Neville agreed as Hermione silently assimilated the fresh information.

“First a phoenix, now a unicorn.”  Dean added, “Whatever she’s hiding, it’s gonna be a doozy.”

“She’s not hiding anything!” Ron insisted roughly, placing his hand on the back of his head.

“Well, whatever she’s hiding, Ron knows what it is, and it doesn’t seem to bother him,” Hermione noted, causing Ron to scowl in her direction.

“I doubt there’s anything about Sweetie that would surprise me anymore,” Harry said as they reached the History of Magic classroom, only to find that the rest of the Gryffindor first-years had already taken their seats.

XxX

Dumbledore took a deep breath when Alice reached the end of her list of bribes.  “Miss Rutter,” he said, “your accusations will be the end of Minister’s Fudge’s career, as well as the careers of several ministry employees.  How confident are you of the accuracy of these claims?”

“Sure enough to bring them to light during the Rite of Iustitia est Infirma,” Alice told the Chief Warlock, absently wiping the sweat off her palms onto her dress.  “Or have you forgotten that the rite punishes those who knowingly make false accusations?”

“Very well.”  Dumbledore directed his gaze toward Fudge.  “Minister, you are not the current target of the rite, but you are to be given the opportunity to deny these charges due to being indirectly implicated.  Be warned, any lying will trigger penalties.  True, they will not be as harsh as if you had falsely denied murder.  However, you can at least expect to lose your magic if you are so bold as to knowingly speak falsehoods.”

The Minister of Magic sourly took to his feet, sweat visibly gathered on his pudgy forehead.  “Wizards and witches of the Wizengamot, esteemed members of the press, and witnesses in the gallery,” he said, making all-encompassing gestures with his hands, “it is apparent from her display, that Miss Rutter has a vendetta against Lucius Malfoy.  And let us be honest, it is a well-grounded and appropriate vendetta.  Without a doubt, the previous administration was lax in its application of pardons, taking the word of a mass murderer over the wellbeing of the wizarding public.  In her fervor to do harm to Malfoy, it is obvious Miss Rutter has misguidedly brought suspicion onto others.  We should not let such a pointed grudge color the entirety of our government.  Instead, we should see to properly punishing those who have perpetrated such heinous crimes as this Death Eater.  As such, I propose an investigation into everyone who claimed being under the Imperious Curse excused their serving He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  If you lend me your support, I will gladly head such an investigation myself.”

“There was a notable lack of ‘I did not accept any bribes.’ in that speech,” one of the members of the Wizengamot noted.  Then, after a second they continued, “My apologizes, Miss Rutter.  I did not mean to interrupt your rite.”

Alice waved dismissively at the commenter as she watched Fudge wince.  “Are you telling me,” she said to the Minister, “that your entire defense consists of ‘There are bad people out there, so if you don’t hold me accountable for my crimes, I’ll do the job I was elected to?’”

“Now, now, Miss Rutter.”  Fudge raised his hands placatingly.  “There’s no need to be hasty.  I’m sure we can work this out.”

“Yes or no,” Alice sighed in distaste.  “Did you accept these bribes?”

“Chief Warlock Dumbledore,” Fudge implored, “are you going to allow this woman to interrogate me?  Do I not have a right to present my case before the Wizengamot?”

“Let it be recognized that the Minister has been given the opportunity to deny the allegations under rite and has refused to do so.”  Dumbledore wacked the podium with his gavel.  “Perhaps the matter shall be elaborated on after the rite.  However, since they are not something the accuser can demand retribution for, they are to be tabled at this time.”

Fudge almost sighed in relief until he noticed that many of his most steadfast supporters were glaring at him angrily from their seats.  Belatedly, he realized that almost all of them would be targets of the investigation he had just called for.

XxX

“Come on, ‘Hogwarts a History’ specifically said that this class was taught by a ghost.”  Hermione looked with annoyance at the now-typical response to the castle spirits.  “You’re not going to scare him away, so you might as well just get used to him.”

Seeing her words had the desired effect, she turned and continued, “That goes for you three as well.  Ginny, get down off Parvati; I don’t think Lavender is anywhere near as strong as Apple Bloom.”

XxX

Dumbledore smiled benevolently at Alice.  “Miss Rutter, once again, I ask you if you are done with the rite?”  As entertaining as this was proving to be, he needed to bring the matter of guardianship of Harry Potter before the council.

“And once again I say that I’m just getting started,” she responded.  “By right of conquest, I hereby claim the Malfoy House seat.”

Dumbledore actually chuckled at that one.  “I cannot say I didn’t see that coming,” he said, sotto voce.  Then, addressing the assembly, he continued.  “Miss Rutter is laying claim to yet another ancient law.  Are there any here that wish to dispute her claim?”

Silence meet his query.  The pureblood faction readily conceded that they were losing their most influential seat.  They knew that, short of Malfoy swearing he did not commit the crimes alleged, there was no basis to dispute the claim.

“Welcome to the Wizengamot.”  Dumbledore bowed slightly in Alice’s direction.  “It seems that once this rite is done, we will have two new members today.”

“Also,” Alice continued as if the seat were not crucial, “Malfoy is responsible for the deaths of greater than three times three wizards.  He purposely brought several family lines to an end.  The incidents each occurred on different occasions, on the orders of an individual who had declared war on the magic-born of Britain.  The law is clear; he must either present sanctioning authorization for his actions, or he must be branded a traitor and thrown into the veil without delay.”

Once again, Alice had caused the room to grow quiet.  There was no mention of Azkaban, this was a direct demand to end Lucius’ life.  There was a time when the man could have counted on the Minister to call for a more lenient sentence, solely on the power of his office.  The reason Alice had continued to voice accusation after accusation even after Malfoy was to be penalized in excess of one hundred percent of his holdings was now evident.  Her goal had never been the man’s wealth.  Retribution was all well and good, but it paled in comparison to vengeance.

“Surely,” Dumbledore said into the stunned silence, “you would consider showing some mercy.  There is no need to invoke that particular law.  Think of his family.”

Alice’s eye shot to the Dumbledore and her next words lacked any warmth, “I am showing his more mercy than he has shown mine.  What part of ‘He murdered my father and raped my mother.’ do you continue to fail to understand?”

Silence reigned for a few seconds more, then Dumbledore tried again.  “Do you realize what you are doing here today?”

“Yes.”  She nodded her head.  “I am doing your job.”

XxX

Two individuals met in the common room of the Three Broomsticks Inn.  Their services had been paid for in full, and, in truth, they were looking forward to the task at hand.

The students and teachers would all be in class right now, so it made sense to wait until lunch before heading up to the castle.  Fates willing, this would prove to be an interesting day.

XxX

How had he been reduced to this?  Just an hour ago, his biggest worry had been the loss of political power to an upstart brat; now he had to worry about the loss of his very life.  Curse the old laws!  This was exactly why they were kept hidden.

He would not beg for his life.  That was precisely what the mudblood was hoping for.  If he was going down, he was going down with dignity.  He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him beg.  He still had his pride, even if he had nothing else to call his own.  He couldn’t even claim his wife, with that wench Rutter’s claim of conquest, he lost even that.

He could take solace in the fact that his son would be provided for.  He would not be here to guide his offspring, but he had ensured that opportunity would be ample for young Draco.

Never would he have suspected he could be brought low in such a manner.  What was this witch’s source?  There was no way she could have collected that intelligence on her own.  She had help.  She was only a figurehead, not that the knowledge would do him any good.  This wasn’t Dumbledore’s style; there had to be a new opponent in the game, and his or her first move was to remove a major player from the field.

The move had been skillfully made.  There were no cracks to exploit, no ignorance to take advantage of.  The rite would ensure his demise, one way or the other.

He wasn’t ready to die.  Still, he would not beg.

XxX

Beaten, Dumbledore let his shoulders slump.  “Very well, Miss Rutter; it would take a two thirds majority to overturn the implementation of the traitor’s law.  Does anyone sitting today wish to call for the vote?”

Once again, the members of the Wizengamot only returned silence for the proffered question.  No one wanted to associate themselves with the doomed man.

“Lucius, will you say nothing in your defense?” Dumbledore addressed the accused.

“I will die with my magic intact,” was the only reply.

“Please restrain the condemned.”  Dumbledore continued once he saw that the path had been set, “He is thusly declared traitor; in accordance with the law, he will be put through the veil after the completion of the Rite of Iustitia est Infirma.”  Two aurors, who had just happened to be standing behind Malfoy, rushed forward to take him into custody.  With a whimper, Malfoy was removed from power.

Concentrating on Alice once more, Dumbledore raised a questioning eyebrow.

Smoothing her dress, Alice stood taller and intoned her next step, “In accordance with the Rite of Iustitia est Infirma, I accuse Corban Yaxley of willfully murdering my mother.  I further accuse him of raping her and being an accomplice to the murder of my father.  I demand retribution!”

Seeing the writing on the wall, Yaxley promptly leapt to his feet and aimed his wand at Alice. “Avada Kedavra!” he thundered only to give a look of dismay when nothing happened beyond him being dogpiled on by a trio of aurors.

“Is extreme stupidity a crime?” Alice asked as they bound Yaxley without the aid of magic.  “Because I’m pretty sure the Chief Warlock said no magic would work.  No, wait, stupidity can’t be crime; Fudge is our sitting minister, not a resident of Azkaban -- at least not yet.”

“Are you so intent on making enemies today?” a reporter from the “Daily Prophet” asked from the first row.

“I don’t plan on leaving any of them standing.” was Alice’s reply as she pulled a second scroll from her satchel.

“Good,” the reporter said, flipping the page of his notepad, “we haven’t had a two-day Wizengamot spectacular in quite a while.  Though with Sweetie Belle and now this, it’s going to be murder deciding what tomorrow’s banner headline will be.”

Realizing that today would not be a good day to bring up guardianship issues, Dumbledore waited for Alice to start reading from her new scroll.

XxX

Judge Judith Brown, no relation, sat behind her office desk and greeted the foreign witch and wizard, “Good morning, Mrs. Belle and Mr. Discord.  Welcome to Britain.  I have been informed you wish to see me in regards to the guardianship of a minor.”

“Yes, your honor,” the beautiful woman with purple hair said from her place in the visitor’s chair, “I have recently been made responsible for the child, and I fear that other parties will abuse their authority and try to circumvent my legal rights.”

“So, you have legal custody at this time?”  Judge Brown was one of the three judges responsible for most custody issues that did not require a fully convened Wizengamot.

“Yes, Harry’s aunt has signed her rights over to me.”  Mrs. Belle pulled a bundle of papers out of her purse.  “I have my copy of the paperwork right here.”

The judge accepted the proffered papers and scanned the contents.  “You have custody of Harry Potter?!”

“Yes, your honor.”  Mrs. Belle nodded while her companion sat back and observed.

“And you’re a foreign national,” Judge Brown said, putting the paperwork on her desk.  “Did you have anyone in particular in mind when you said there might be opposition?”

“Harry’s previous magical guardian, Albus Dumbledore,” Mrs. Belle answered, lacking any of the reverence normally associated with the name.

“Of course.”  The judge put her face in her hand.  “It just had to be Dumbledore.  You do realize you just handed me a nightmare.”

In response, the woman took her wand out of her purse and said, “I, Rarity Belle, do swear that I have Harry Potter’s best interests in mind and do not seek him out for political purposes.  I further swear that my actions are the result of learning of his circumstances caused by Albus Dumbledore, whom I fully believe does not have the minor’s best interests at heart.  So mote it be.”  A pulse of magic punctuated her declaration.

Judge Brown had tensed when the woman had drawn her wand without warning, only relaxing when it was returned to the purse.  “A little warning before you pull your wand would be appreciated,” she admonished, once more perusing the paperwork.  “Tell me about these circumstances you mentioned.”

Surprisingly, it was her companion who sat forward to answer the question.

XxX

Dumbledore waited calmly for Alice to finish with her list of grievances against Yaxley before formally offering the man a chance to rebut.  “Mr. Yaxley,” he intoned, “you stand accused of fifteen counts of murder, fifty-seven counts of accessory to murder, as well as multiple charges of bribery, intimidation, rape and torture.  You may swear to innocence on any of the charges at this time.”

One of the aurors standing next to the bound Yaxley removed the gag needed to allow Alice to finish her accusations.

“You mudblood bitch!!” Yaxley began screaming as soon as he was able.  “You dare stand in the master’s way?  You fool!  You are nothing!  I deny all of your lies!”

That’s as far as he got.  Abruptly, the magic in the room grew heavy and there was loud snap.  A surge of power rushed into Yaxley, or maybe out of him, or perhaps even both, and then everything was still.  No one moved, least of all Yaxley.  He would not be moving on his own again.

“I claim the Yaxley house seat by right of conquest!” Alice pleasantly announced, and, as one, the room turned to her expectantly.

“You can only hold one seat at a time,” someone from the audience insisted.

“True,” Alice agreed.  “I hereby give the Yaxley seat to Greg Miller.”

“But,” A Wizengamot member from the pureblood faction complained, “he’s a muggle-born!”

“Why yes, yes he is.”  Alice beamed as she reached for yet another scroll from her satchel.  ‘Nott, you’re next.”

XxX

The morning classes passed by quickly, with Hermione being the only Gryffindor to be awake at the end of History of Magic.  Even Magah had lost to slumber, sleeping where she stood.

“I can’t believe he didn’t say anything about you bringing a unicorn to class,” Dean said as they were packing up after class and the teacher had left through the wall.

“I can’t believe the class is taught by a dead person.”  Scootaloo yawned and stretched.  “Don’t they have a decent retirement plan or something?”

“Look on the bright side,” Lavender said, and her classmates focused on her.

“Well?” Ginny asked when that was as far as she got.

“Give me a second,” Lavender said.  “I’ll think of something.”

“Ah coulda gotten just as much out of reading the book as ah did out of this class,” Apple Bloom grumbled.  “More even, since ah don’t read in a monotone.”

“But the information is so fascinating,” Hermione insisted as she stuck up for their teacher.  “So what if the presentation was a bit dry?”

“A bit dry?” Ron said with indignation.  “He could make a quidditch match boring.”

“Ron,” Hermione commanded, “don’t exaggerate.”

“He wasn’t exaggerating.”  Parvati stuck up for Ron.  “That was a chore to stay awake.”

“You’re not helping,” Hermione informed her.

“Sorry,” Parvati shrugged, “was I supposed to be?”

“We should probably do something to liven up the class,” Sweetie Belle suggested.

“Like what?” Scootaloo asked.  “Perform a resurrection?”

“Could we do that?” Harry asked fixing his gaze on Scootaloo.

“Don’t know,” she admitted.  “We could ask Twilight.”

“Who’s Twilight?” Dean asked, coming over to pet Magah.

“One of mah sister’s friends,” Apple Bloom supplied.  “She knows everything.”

“What are the odds of her actually knowing a viable resurrection spell?”  Hermione’s interest was piqued.  “After all, the professors here obviously don’t have one.”

“Pretty good actually,” Sweetie Belle said.  “She has access to the Royal Library.  Besides, she’s the Element of Magic.”

“She has access to a royal library?” Hermione squealed.

“Calm down, Hermione,” Seamus said.  “It’s just a library.”

“Come on,” Sweetie said, jerking her head toward the exit.   “Let’s go write Twilight a letter.”

“To the owlery?” Lavender asked.

“To the owlery,” Parvati confirmed heading out the door.

XxX

Alice watched as they added Mr. Goyle to the group of restrained wizards.  Her plans had gone perfectly so far; the known Death Eaters no longer sat on the Wizengamot.  It hadn’t even been remotely difficult.  All it had taken was some knowledge of the law and the willingness to implement the right course.  She wondered why none of the so-called families of light had not done the same.

“You have gotten a great deal of usage out of the rite Miss Rutter.”  Dumbledore intruded on her musings.  “It is safe to say that the very dynamics of wizarding politics have been waylaid this day.  You did say that Mr. Goyle was your last objective currently in the room, so is it safe to assume that we are done with the rite for now?”

“Yes, I’m done with the rite for now,” Alice agreed, and a majority let out the breath they had been holding in anticipation.

“Very well.”  Dumbledore banged his gavel once more, and the magic retreated from the chambers, leaving doors where there once were blank walls.  “Then we shall  adjourn until after lunch, say two o’clock.  It has been a busy morning, and some of us must still witness the proceedings down at the veil.

With that grim reminder, the aurors began funneling the condemned out of the chambers.  They had a short trek to make, the longest of their lives.

XxX

Twilight looked up from her reading as the beating of muffled wings announced the arrival of a messenger.  Perched next to her own owl, Owlowiscious, was a large barn owl.

“Hey!” her assistant, a purple baby dragon by the name of Spike, said.  “What’s with the strange owl?””

“He’s probably just delivering a message from the Crusaders,” Twilight said, trotting up to the owl stand.  “Apparently owls are a common means of communication where they’re going to school.”

“Great, just great.”  Spike crossed his arms and griped, “Another of my jobs that owls are after.”

‘I don’t think you have to worry about it,” Twilight said, examining the new owl.  “They still have to fly from Point A to Point B, while your flames are much faster.”

“Whatever.”  Spike was unconvinced.

“If you could wait a minute, I should have a reply for you to take back.”  Twilight addressed the owl who bobbed his head in consent.

Wrapping the message in her magic, Twilight floated it close to peruse.  “Oh, look, they’re asking about resurrection spells.  I remember looking into those when I was a filly.”

“Resurrection spells?” Spike sounded doubtful.  “Aren’t those dangerous and outside their skill range?”

“Nah.”  Twilight made her way to a bookshelf and started browsing the titles.  “They’re basically harmless.  They are fun to play with and pretend that they’ll work.  Basically, without a spirit to work with, they are useless, and where would the girls find an honest to goodness, fully manifested spirit willing to help?”

“You’re sending the Crusaders looking for ghosts?!” Spike exclaimed in alarm.

Twilight openly laughed, taking a book down from the bookcase.  “Spike, there’s no such things as ghosts.  These spells are just theory; they teach some necessary fundamentals about magic, disguised as a subject that just about every young filly takes interest in at some time or another.  They’re harmless fun.”

“Did you actually use the word ‘harmless’ in reference to the Crusaders?” Spike asked, suspiciously eyeing the book Twilight was levitating.

“Spike, they’ve been at magic school for less than a week,” Twilight admonished as she levitated over some brown paper to wrap the book in.  “There’s no way they can cause havoc with this book; it’ll just be good for laughs.”

“I don’t know Twilight.”  Spike still hadn’t uncrossed his arms.  “Something just seems fundamentally wrong with sending the Crusaders a book on resurrection.  If anypony can figure a way to make it work, it’ll be those three.”

“Spike,” Twilight insisted as she put her hoof down, “unicorns have been laughing at these spells for generations.  The Crusaders aren’t going to miraculously make them relevant.  They are a good learning tool; that is all.”

“Oookay,” Spike groaned as he gave up, “if you say so, but I still think it’s a bad idea.”

Twilight grumbled something about paranoid assistants as she prepared the book for delivery.

XxX

“Today has been a day of surprises,” Amelia Bones commented to Dumbledore as they exited the veil’s chamber.  “The pureblood faction is all but decimated, Fudge is as good as out the door, and we now have a significant number of seats held by muggle-born.”

“It has indeed been extraordinary.”  Dumbledore stroked his beard.  “And I fear we have more surprises in store.  Miss Rutter did not seem to have played her hand out as of yet.”

“You think she has more planned?”  Amelia shook her head as she followed the Chief Warlock.  “I mean, it’s obvious she has more planned, but I doubt any of it will be as earth shaking.  She got what she was after.”

“There are former Death Eaters out there besides the ones who sat on the Wizengamot.”  Dumbledore was still upset that he couldn’t prevent the loss of several family lines today.  “I doubt very much that they will escape her attention.”

“Hopefully not,” Amelia agreed.

“Hasn’t there been enough death already?” Dumbledore sadly asked of her.

“Yes, that’s why we need justice to be meted out,” Amelia said, either mistaking his meaning or ignoring it completely.  “Old family lines are no reason to withhold justice.”

“Indeed.”  Dumbledore let his disappointment fill his voice.

XxX

The Gryffindor first-years were sitting at the lunch table when the barn owl returned bearing a large package.

“That was fast,” Parvati noted as the bird landed by Scootaloo to be relieved of his burden.

“Maybe Discord sent the owl back in time to make its delivery,” Sweetie answered taking another bite from her corned beef sandwich.

“Is that even possible?” Parvati asked in alarm.

Sweetie just nodded her head yes and continued to chew.

“Well, what did she send?” Hermione’s curiosity overrode her good manners.  “Is that a book?”

Scootaloo quickly removed the brown wrapping paper and held up her prize.  “Yup, it’s a book.”

“So, this Twilight just happened to have a book on resurrections lying around.”  Dean reached for a corned beef sandwich of his own.  “Is that normal?”

“Well, she does live in a library,” Apple Bloom informed him.  “She has a lot of books just lying around.”

“’Ten Easy Resurrection Spells and Basic Exorcisms for When You Succeed’,” Hermione read out loud.  “That title sounds real encouraging.”

“Twilight wouldn’t send us anything dangerous,” Scootaloo said, digging into her salad.  “At least not without sending a written warning five feet long.”

“Maybe we should skip the resurrection and go directly to exorcisms,” Neville said, also reaching for a corned beef sandwich.

“Nah.”  Harry shook his head.  “I’ll bet they’d get real mad if we exorcised a teacher.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t experiment on him,” Lavender suggested.  “There’s supposed to be an annoying ghost in one of the bathrooms; maybe we should start with her.”

The group all agreed that would probably be wise as they continued with their meal.

 
> Chapter 17: That Worked, Now What?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A tall man, bulging with muscles, appeared in the middle of the room, a crack of apparition heralding his arrival.  “Jammie!” he bellowed, even as he headed toward a dresser containing his objective.

There was a popping sound followed by, “Master Macnair be wanting Jammie to do something?”

Retrieving a shrunken trunk from the top drawer, the man snarled, “Retrieve the contents of my vaults and then pack everything in the house.  We’re moving to Egypt.”  Not even waiting for a reply, the man pocketed the trunk and apparated away.

Across the United Kingdom, similar scenes played out as wizards and witches took a hasty leave from the land of their birth.


XxX


The pair approached Minerva McGonagall with smiles on their faces.  Classes had been let out for lunch, and now was the perfect time to talk to the headmaster.  Unfortunately, the headmaster was not present, so the deputy would have to suffice.

“Professor!” the man of the duo called upon seeing the target of their search making her way to the Great Hall for lunch.  “A moment of your time, please.”

Minerva turned toward the voice and let a thin smile cross her face at the sight of her former student.  “Mr. Goodman, what a pleasant surprise,” she said, altering her course and heading in their direction, “and who is your lady friend?  I do not believe we have met.”

The man, Goodman, blushed slightly and said, “Professor McGonagall, I’d like you to meet Marcy Weiss.  She’s from the Americas, a student of all things historical.”

Minerva gave a thin smile to the dark-skinned woman.  “A pleasure.”  She extended her hand in greeting.  “I do hope Mr. Goodman here is treating you properly.”

Marcy smiled warmly in return and gently shook Minerva’s hand.  “He has been most agreeable,” she allowed, “although we have only just met today.  It is nice to meet you at last, Professor McGonagall.”

Minerva raised a questioning eyebrow at that response.  “Just met today?  Then I suppose it is too much to hope for that this is a social visit?”

“More social than business, I am sure,” Goodman allowed, “but business nonetheless.”

“Oh?”  Minerva turned a questioning gaze on the young man.

“We’ve been hired as tutors for some of your students,” Marcy said.  “Richard here will be handling Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I’ll be doing History of Magic.”

"Oh?” Minerva repeated, running an appraising gaze over the younger woman.  “I can’t say that I’m surprised that someone would hire a tutor for History of Magic, but I must admit that one for DADA comes as a surprise.  Our current professor has high N.E.W.T. scores in that field and has experience teaching.  I’m sure he will excel at educating the children.”

“Our employer would disagree.”  Richard fidgeted slightly.  “He not only gave the impression that was he expecting Professor Quirrell’s teaching to be subpar, but also strongly hinted that the professor was a danger to the students.  It’s obvious he wants me to be a bodyguard as much as a tutor.”

“That is absurd,” Minerva insisted.  “Quirinus has been a professor here for years; you should remember him from Muggle Studies.”

“As a matter of fact,” Ricard confirmed, “I do remember him.  ‘Harmless’ is the word I’d use as a description.  Nonetheless, I have three Gryffindor girls to tutor and as many of their classmates who want to join in.”

“Ah,” Minerva exclaimed as understanding lit her eyes, “I see; was the man who hired you, perhaps, named Discord?”

“He never said his name,” Marcy confessed, “but I was left with the impression that he’s a very powerful wizard.”

Minerva nodded in understanding and then said, “Come with me; I’ll arrange quarters for you and retrieve the students’ schedules.  Would you two be averse to sharing a common room?”


XxX


After lunch, the Gryffindor first-years were to have their inaugural transfiguration class.  They traveled the halls, a gaggle of giggles and anticipation.  Each and every one of them was looking forward to their head of house’s subject of choice.

Chattering excitedly amongst themselves, they entered the classroom, and Neville was the first to notice there was something sitting on their professor’s desk.  “Oh look,” he said, “a cat.”

“Where?” Sweetie Belle demanded as she promptly hid behind the closest body, who happened to be Seamus.

“Relax,” Scootaloo said, making her way toward the front of the class to find a seat and waving at the cat.  “That’s just Professor McGonagall in her cat form.”

“Are you sure?” Sweetie asked at the same time Hermione said, “How’d you know?”

“Discord mentioned one of our teachers can change into a cat,” Scootaloo said, claiming a front row two-student desk while Lavender sat next to her.  “Stands to reason it would be our transformation teacher.”

“You’re doing that on purpose.” Hermione accused, taking another front row desk with Ginny.

“Doing what?” Scootaloo asked, a bit too innocently.

Meanwhile, in an effort to stay as far away as possible, Sweetie Belle sat in the very back and was joined by Ron while Harry and Seamus claimed the adjacent desk.  In the middle of the room, Apple Bloom sat next to Neville, and Parvati shared a desk with Dean.  They had just gotten settled when the Ravenclaw students started arriving, coming in groups of two and three.

Once the last of the Ravenclaws took their seat, the cat jumped off the desk and, in midair, changed into Professor McGonagall.  This drew a round gasps from the Ravenclaws and a round of clapping from the Gryffindors, minus Sweetie Belle.

“Welcome to Transfigurations.”  The cat-turned-teacher stated formally, “As many of you already know, I am Professor McGonagall, and I shall be your instructor.  First of all, two points to Gryffindor for spotting an Animagus transformation.  Miss Belle, I apologize for scaring you.”

“It’s all right,” Sweetie squeaked from the back row.

“I see you have brought your unicorn with you.”  McGonagall nodded to the animal standing behind Sweetie.

“I haven’t so much brought her as she followed me,” Sweetie Belle objected.  “She won’t leave me alone.”

“I see,” McGonagall accepted, returning to stand behind her desk.  “I’ll talk to Professor Kettleburn; I am sure he can help your situation,”

“Thank you,” Sweetie replied, relieved.


XxX


Amelia Bones had spent the lunch hour issuing orders and reviewing trial transcripts.  Frustrated, she threw down a note from the records department.  It had informed her that they still could not locate the record for Sirius Black’s trial.

There was a knock at the door, and Rufus Scrimgeour walked in without waiting for an invitation.

“Well?” Amelia asked without looking up from her paperwork.

“The goblins have turned away elves from all of the vaults on the list,” Scrimgeour reported, choosing to stand rather than sit in the waiting visitor chair.  “We may not yet have the authorization to round them up, but we can stop them from accessing their funds.”

“They won’t be around long enough to round up,” Amelia asserted, flipping a page over to continue to read.  “Dumbledore adjourned the meeting too soon.  It would have been better if he had called for an investigation first.”

“We were able to stop the Minister from leaving the country, though,” Scrimgeour continued his report, not wishing to comment on the Chief Warlock’s actions.  “He was packed and ready to go.  Predictably, he tried to bully his way through by pulling rank.”

“No surprise there.”  Amelia signed a sheet of paper and moved it to her outbox.  “He knows that the Rite counts as evidence and that we have enough to charge him.”  She then looked up to focus on Scrimgeour.  “I don’t think I have to tell you, but if Macnair or any of his friends make an appearance, make sure to put them in ‘protective custody’.”

Scrimgeour nodded and left the room without another word.


XxX


After taking roll, Professor McGonagall said, “I have always believed that the best way to get started is to show you what you can do with the knowledge presented in this class.”  With that, she waved her wand over her desk and the furnishing morphed into a pig.

The students filled the air with “oooohs” and “aaaahs”

“Yes, Miss Belle?”  Professor McGonagall acknowledged the girl’s raised hand.

“Is that edible?” Sweetie asked innocently, and the entire class turned to stare at the girl; even Magah had a look of shock on her face.

“See,” Harry boasted, pointing at Sweetie Belle, “that didn’t surprise me in the least.”

“No, Miss Belle,” McGonagall firmly asserted.  “You must never eat anything that has been transfigured.  Once the spell ends, it will return to its former state.  As you probably can imagine, solid wood expanding in your stomach would do untold damage to your insides.”  Then, after singling out yet another raised hand, she said, “Yes, Miss Bloom?”

“How about changing one type of food to another, say like Brussels sprouts ta apples?”

“That is a very good question.”  McGonagall radiated approval.  “I fear the whole reasoning is well beyond the scope of first-year knowledge.  However, the answer is once again a firm ‘no’.  Though not as obvious as the previous example, you would find the experience no less damaging.  If you take nothing else away from today’s class, let it be the knowledge that transfigured foods are not to be consumed.  To that point, feeding someone such a meal is considered a murder attempt.”

The students let a collective gasp at the news, and McGonagall took advantage in the lull to return her desk to its previous state.  “Now, if everyone would kindly prepare to take notes, I will go over the basics.”


XxX


Severus Snape set his N.E.W.T. students to brewing their first potion of the year.  Unsurprisingly, this class once again mainly consisted of Slytherins, with a smattering of the other houses sparingly represented.

Abruptly, a flash of flames trumpeted the arrival of a phoenix.  Without ceremony, the bird deposited a letter on his desk, only to promptly disappear in another flash of flames.  It happened so quickly that Professor Snape couldn’t be sure which phoenix had been the messenger.  He was more than half-ready to deduct points from Gryffindor for disturbing his class when he saw that the letter had originated from Dumbledore.

With more than a little apprehension, he reached for the letter.  He knew Albus would not have sent it in such a manner unless it was important.

Uncaring that his class had stopped what they had been doing to witness the unusual happenstance, Professor Snape quickly read through the contents.  He then said, “Class, put up your work stations; we will continue this after supper.  Mr. Rosier, come with me.”

Confident that his instructions would be obeyed, he swept out of the classroom with the designated student following in his wake.  The news relayed in the letter was a game changer.  The rock-solid truths that had held sway just this morning had abruptly crumbled to dust, leaving Professor Snape to shoulder the burden of being the messenger who bore bad news.  His task would be to collect the students from their various classes.  Most would be from his own house; a few were from Ravenclaw, and even fewer were from Hufflepuff.  He needed to collect them and let them know that the last war had reached across the decade and had made them orphans this day.


XxX


The lanky wizard admired the view framed by his large picture window.  Silently, he enjoyed the sight of the shoreline that greeted him.  If asked for their opinion, visitors would be hard-pressed to identify him as a wizard.  His attire was that of any moderately well-off muggle, consisting of slacks and a dress shirt.  They complemented his lean form nicely, without drawing too much attention.

When choosing his line of work, he had made sure his business would cater to both the magical and the non-magical alike.  He had settled on providing rental cottages for the tourists attracted to this seaside town.  His choice of occupation allowed him to live with a foot in both societies.

“Greg!” his wife called from the kitchen.  “An owl just arrived; it looks like it’s from the Ministry.”

Grumbling to himself, Greg Miller went to see what the fools at the Ministry wanted now.


XxX


After an hour-long note taking session, the students were presented with matchsticks and instructed to turn them into needles.  Just like that, they were attempting to put theory to practice.  Harry looked up from his slightly pointy matchstick to see that Sweetie seemed to be focusing more on her wand than the object of the lesson.  She had stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth, and sweat visibly beaded on her forehead.

In the front of the class, Scootaloo was frowning at her small stick of metal.  She had managed to change the material of her target, but it stubbornly stayed the same shape.

“Very good, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said as she prowled among the students.  “Ten points to Gryffindor for the first successful attempt.”

Ron glared down at his own work; instead of becoming more needle-like, his project was now covered or maybe composed of the red phosphorus from the matchhead.

Dean yipped as his fourth matchstick followed its predecessors and went up in flames.

Apple Bloom was also frowning at her match.  She had the opposite problem Scootaloo was having.  Her endeavor was a perfectly shaped wooden needle with a red tip.  In fact, it seemed to be twice the size as when she started.  Not wanting to admit defeat, Apple Bloom poured more of her intent into her wand, but instead of turning silver, the wooden needle grew to the size of a pencil.

Balking at her own lack of success, Ginny asked Hermione what she had done to get it right.  Just as Hermione opened her mouth to answer, there was a surge of magic from the back and they turned to see that Sweetie Belle’s desk was now silvery.

“Be careful where you’re aiming,” McGonagall advised unnecessarily as Ron noted his match was now the desired material through no effort of his own.

Dean’s fifth match was incinerated.

Neville had to move his match, as Apple Bloom’s wooden needle took up the majority of the desktop and was starting to sprout leaves.

 “Excellent, Miss Patil,” McGonagall encouraged.  “That’ll be ten points for Ravenclaw.”

Ginny opened her mouth to remind Professor McGonagall that Parvati was in Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw, when she noticed that the professor was indeed talking to a girl in Ravenclaw blue who looked a lot like Parvati.  Well, what did you know; she’s a twin.

Dean’s sixth match disappeared in a ball of flame.

“Miss Bloom, I believe it’s time to start over.” McGonagall levitated the giant wooden needle off the student’s desk and replaced it with a new match.

Harry had managed to produce a pointed silvery matchstick; he felt he was well on his way to success.

“Congratulations, Miss Weasley, I do believe that is another ten points for Gryffindor,” McGonagall said as Ginny shot Hermione a thankful smile, “and Mr. Boot earns ten for Ravenclaw.”

Seamus had a twisted wreck of wood and metal lying at his workplace.  He flinched as McGonagall switched it out for another match.

“Miss Bloom, while that is an impressive bonsai tree, the assignment is for a needle,” McGonagall reminded her student.

“That is a remarkable effort Miss Belle.”  McGonagall waved her wand to undo the effort.  “I’m almost tempted to give you points for your 500-pound needle, apart from the fact that your target was supposed to be your match, not your desk.

Sweetie Belle smiled sheepishly as Dean’s desk went up in a mushroom cloud and Parvati leapt away, shrieking.  At least she wasn’t the only one having issues with aiming.


XxX


“It is the decision of this assembly to reconvene on the morrow to continue with the issues at hand.”  Dumbledore announced to gathering, “Let it be known that former Minister Fudge shall be held in the Ministry cells until his trial tomorrow, due to his obvious attempts at fleeing the country.  Furthermore, let it be known that an open investigation is in effect on all former Death Eaters who have claimed to be enthralled by the Imperius Curse.  In that vein, warrants for their arrests have been issued.  In addition, their assets are to be frozen, pending the outcome of the proceedings.”

Dumbledore surveyed those in attendance, taking special note of Greg Miller sitting next to Arthur Weasley. The former was still in shock over his acquisition of a Wizengamot seat.  “I would like to thank our newest members for their prompt attendance at such short notice.  If they would be so kind as to remain after, there are important matters to discuss.  On that note, we now stand adjourned.”

Reflecting on the afternoon session, Dumbledore admitted that Miss Rutter had driven the agenda.  Fudge had lasted as Minister for all of ten minutes; the overwhelming evidence of the Rite predictably ended his term.  There had been no one willing to stand up for Fudge.  At this point, his guilt was all but a foregone conclusion.  Now, he would face severe monetary penalties for accepting the bribes, with prison time being an almost certainty, as well.

Miss Rutter had ridden the wave of support and called for the detaining of all former Death Eaters.  It had taken some persuading from Dumbledore to limit the scope to just those who had used the Imperius Curse excuse.  The young witch was well on her way to leading a faction of her own, one that did not seem to have any respect for tradition or the sanctity of the old families.  That could prove to be problematic in the future.


XxX


The Gryffindor first-years relaxed in the common room minus the two of their members who had gone to acquire their test subject.  They were still drawing stares from their housemates as they shared their space with a phoenix and a unicorn.

“I’ll admit, I can’t make heads or tails out of most of these,” Hermione said, holding up the book Twilight had sent.  “But, two seem to be simple enough, straightforward rituals that we can do without too much trouble.  The easier one just needs some vinegar, an ounce of silver, and a gallon of tree sap.”

“Tree sap?” Scootaloo head shot up at the mere mention the words.  “Do they both take tree sap?”

“No.”  Hermione shook her head.  “Just the first one.”

“Then we’ll do the one without tree sap,” Apple Bloom declared.

“But, the other one would be easier,” Hermione objected.

“No tree sap,” Sweetie Belle insisted.

“What’s wrong with using tree sap?” Neville asked, confused by the reluctance the three were displaying.

“I don’t like wearing tree sap,” Scootaloo informed him, shuddering at an old memory.

“You’re not supposed to wear it,” Hermione countered.  “It just goes in a bowl on the ground.”

“Somehow,” Apple Bloom enlightened her, “we’ll end up wearing it.”

“Okay, okay.” Harry ended up playing the peacekeeper.  “No tree sap.”


XxX


Minerva McGonagall waved her wand to allow whomever had been knocking to enter her office.  She was surprised to find that it was her seventh-year prefect.  “Good evening, Miss Dunbar.” McGonagall inclined her head in greeting, then upon noting the girl’s body language.  “Is something amiss?”

“Yes,” Fay prattled, then seemed to reconsider, “no.”  Then, after another pause, she finished with “maybe.”

“You seem to have run the gamut with that answer,” McGonagall noted

“It’s just that,” Fay said, looking seriously at her strict head of house, “the first-years have resurrected Moaning Myrtle, and I’m not sure how to handle the situation.”

“They did what, now?” McGonagall asked with incredulity.

“They resurrected Moaning Myrtle,” Fay repeated.

“That’s what I thought you said,” McGonagall replied; then for good measure, she asked, “The first-years?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” McGonagall needed one last piece of confirmation.

“Yes, she’s all solid now and has a heartbeat,” Fay assured her head of house.

With her eyes unfocused, Minerva considered the news.  “Excuse me for a minute,” McGonagall said, motioning for Fay to take a seat before she headed over to her floo connection.  After the flames turned green she said, “Filius, are you there?”

The professor’s head appeared in the flames and he said, “Good evening Minerva.  Yes, I’m here.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to accompany me to the Gryffindor tower.”  McGonagall said, getting directly to the point, “There’s been an incident, and it involves a student from your house.”

“Oh?” Professor Flitwick said, coming the rest of the way through the flames.  “Which one would that be?”

“Myrtle Warren,” McGonagall informed him, only to receive confused look in response.

After a few seconds, Flitwick chuckled before he asked, “And what trouble has the ghost gotten herself into then?”

“It appears my first-years have resurrected her,” McGonagall answered.

“They did what, now?” Flitwick asked as Minerva once again reached for the floo powder.

Another floo call was made, and Madam Pomfrey joined the party.  Albus would have been invited too, but he was currently out of the castle.

Before too long, they were approaching the first-year girl’s dorm room.  Once they got near, they noticed a liquid was seeping out from under the door.

“Is that blood?” Madam Pomfrey gasped as she threw open the door and rushed in to aid whomever needed her.

McGonagall and Flitwick followed quickly after her and were appalled to find that there was blood coating the entirety of the room’s floor. Worse, it was dripping from the ceiling; it covered all the furnishings and soaked all of the occupants.

The students were arrayed in different states of shock around the room, wide-eyed gazes affixed on the headless corpse dominating the middle of the room.  In one spot, Lavender was clutching Neville for all she was worth.  In another, Ginny had all but crawled into her brother Ron’s arms, burying her face in his chest.  Next to them, Parvati stood with her hands covering her mouth in abject horror.  Further down, Harry was slack-jawed, standing next to Hermione who was hugging herself and shivering.  Seemingly unaffected by what she had witnessed, a clearly corporal Myrtle stood next to Dean and Apple Bloom who, in turn, stared with looks of unadulterated shock on their faces.

“That was so cool!” Dean said after a few seconds as Madam Pomfrey rushed from student to student, checking for injuries.

“Cool?”  Seamus snapped at him, “I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of me life, I am.”

Philomena trilled her agreement from Sweetie Belle’s shoulder.

“What happened here?” McGonagall demanded tersely, calmly running her eyes over the scene even though dread filled her mind.

“Well,” Harry said, having a hard time seeing though his blood-covered glasses, “After a roaring success with Myrtle, we decided to give it a go with Nick next.”

“Nearly Headless Nick?” Fay inquired from her post at the room’s doorway, looking green around the gills.

“Headless,” Apple Bloom corrected, gesturing at one of the beds.  “It rolled under thar.”

“As soon as he formed up, it just popped right off,” Neville whined as he timidly started to return Lavender’s hug.

“There shouldn’t have been that much blood!” Hermione wailed still hugging herself, “There is no possible way he had that much blood in him.”

“It’s official,” Scootaloo stated blandly from her spot next to Sweetie Belle.  “From now on, when given a choice, we’re sticking with the bucking tree sap.” She paused a second, realizing what she had just said and then added, “No pun intended.”

Sweetie Belle whimpered her agreement.

“All right,” Madam Pomfrey said after confirming everyone was unharmed, “to the infirmary with the lot of you.  There’s a round of obliviation waiting to be had, and I need to call in a second opinion to make it official."

“Oh, thank goodness!” Hermione proclaimed and led the rush out of the dorm.

“I’m good.”  Dean protested as he wrung blood out of his robes, “I don’t wanna forget this.”

“How’d you get that unicorn up here in the first place?” Flitwick asked as the equine stooped to make her way through the doorway, following Sweetie Belle.


XxX


“Did the first-years just run through here covered in blood?” A sixth-year girl asked as she stared after the group that had just rushed out the egress, only to be rudely pushed out of the way by a blood-covered unicorn.


XxX


Applejack was sitting peacefully on the porch, enjoying the early evening, when the owl arrived.  It was a screech owl, and it had the mandated letter tied to its leg.

“Well, howdy thar y’all,” Applejack greeted cheerfully.  “’Bout time the young’un decided to write a letter home.”  After studying the owl for a second, she added hospitably, “Would you care for some vittles?  Ah’m sure ah could wrangle up some leftover ham and some water ‘fore I read that thar letter.”

The owl bobbed its head in acceptance, and Applejack swiftly retrieved the offered treat.  Once she was sure her guest was comfortable, she took the letter and eagerly opened it to see what her Apple Bloom had written, only to be disappointed that the letter wasn’t from her kin.

Dear Mrs. Apple Jack,

This is an official notice of Obliviation on a Minor.  We regret to inform you that Apple Bloom has had roughly fifteen minutes of her memory removed at the discretion of her school nurse and an attending practitioner from St. Mungo’s.

The justification for this course of action is as follows.  The minor and eleven of her friends decided to resurrect some of the school ghosts.  After one success, they attempted a second.  The subject was a ghost who had died due to the removal of his head.  Unfortunately, this resulted in the former ghost’s head leaving his newly formed body mid-spell.  There was a resulting shower of blood that coated the entire room and everyone present, leaving them in various states of shock. We feel that the retention of this memory would only cause harm to the minors involved.

By law, we are required to inform you that memories thusly removed can be returned fully.  As the child’s guardian, you have the option to have the memory restored.  The time frame for such an action is normally set at a week; complications become likely after that time.  It cannot be stressed enough that we highly recommend against such a course of action.

Sincerely;

Madam Poppy Pomfrey (School Nurse)

Nurse Nancy Nightingale (St. Mungo’s representative)

Applejack reread the letter then called into the farmhouse, “Granny, Big Mac, Ah’m gonna head over to Twilight’s.  Ah need her advice on something.”


XxX


Amelia Bones was walking through the main auror area, on her way home after a long day when the flames turned green.

“Hello, is anyone there?” a voice called, gaining the immediate attention of everyone in the area.

“Yes, you have reached Auror Central,” the auror currently in charge of the floo answered.  “Is there an emergency?”

“Not so much an emergency,” the voice from the floo said, and Amelia realized it was the school nurse from Hogwarts.  “We have in our possession a body that falls outside of normal protocols.  It was thought to be prudent to contact you before disposing of it.”

“Stand back!” Amelia snapped into the flames.  “We are coming through!”  If there was a body at Hogwarts, she was going to find out why.


XxX


As Rarity neared the library, she happened to look over and spotted her farmer friend quickly approaching.  “Did you receive one as well, Darling?” she asked.

“Eeyup,” was the reply.

“Do you think it might have been the Crusaders' idea?” Rarity queried as they continued on their walk to Twilight’s.

“Eeyup,” Applejack stated knowingly.

“Hey, you two!” a voice from above said.  “You’re never gonna believe what happened.”

The two friends looked up and were met by the sight of Rainbow Dash flapping her wings lazily, just overhead.

After noting the looks on her friend’s faces Rainbow Dash said, “Oops, my bad. You already know.”

“Ah can’t wait to hear the full story behind this one,” Applejack said, stopping in front of the library.

“I know, I mean, what sort of idiot lets fillies have access to resurrection spells in the first place?” Rainbow Dash agreed as she lifted a hoof to knock on Twilight’s door.

 
> Chapter 18: Abnormal Incident
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a short wait, it was Spike who opened the door.  “R-r-rarity!” he stuttered upon seeing the white mare.  “Welcome!  Come in!  Come in!”

“Spiky-wikey,” Rarity cooed in response.  “It’s so good to see you.”

“Hello, Spike,” Rainbow Dash said.  

Applejack added, “Howdy.”

“Applejack.  Rainbow Dash.” Spike waved absently without taking his eyes off Rarity.  “Hello.”

“At least he noticed us this time,” Rainbow Dash snickered as she walked into the library proper.

“Spike, would you mind getting Twilight?” Rarity asked, batting her eyelashes.  “We need to talk to her about something concerning the Crusaders.”

“I’m right here, actually,” Twilight said, trotting into the room.  “Hi, girls; what’s up?”

“Oh hey, Twilight.”  Rainbow waved a forehoof in greeting.  “The Crusaders were part of an incident today, and we’d like some advice.”

“Were ‘part of’ or were ‘the cause of’?” Twilight inquired, trotting over to stand by her friends.

“My ‘I told you so’ sense is tingling,” Spike said, moving his attention away from Rarity.

“Oh hush, Spike.”  Twilight stamped a forehoof softly as emphasis.  “I’ve already told you there is no such thing as ghosts.”

“No such things as ghosts?” Rarity repeated, eyes going wide.  “Twilight, darling, did you happen to provide the girls with a spell on resurrections?”

“Yes, I did.”  A wide smile accompanied the announcement.  “Those spells are a great learning tool.  They’re harmless, and they really get the imagination going.”

“Y’all did whaaaa --”  Applejack cut herself off midsentence to reach under her hat for a letter while Rainbow collapsed laughing onto the floor.  Applejack continued, hoofing over the missive, “Here.”

Twilight accepted the proffered letter and, with a sideways glance at Rainbow Dash, read it.  When she was done, her hoof found her face.  “One day . . .Less than a day even,” she muttered.

“Is that my cue?” Spike asked eagerly.

“Yes darling,” Rarity said, sitting on her haunches.  “That’s your cue.”


XxX


Six of her aurors had followed through the floo, each of them as tense as she was herself.  They stood shoulder to shoulder in a defensive ring, wands drawn.  It wasn’t everyday they received an alert from Hogwarts that there was a body to dispose of.  No matter how unconcerned the nurse had sounded, this was not a routine visit.

“Where is it?” were the first words out of her mouth after she crossed the threshold of the fireplace.  “What exactly happened?”  With practiced eyes, she took in her surroundings; the school infirmary was currently populated by four people.  Two were students, one a smallish boy with glasses partially hidden by his dark, messy hair, and the other an older girl who looked remarkably like that ghost who haunted the first-floor lavatory.  The other two people were clearly medical practitioners.  One was the expected school nurse.  The other was a familiar nurse from St. Mungo’s, an obliviation expert, unless she missed her guess.

“Good evening Madam Bones,” the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, said.  “Sorry to bother you, but the situation is nowhere near as dire as it first sounds.”

Amelia fixed her with a glare that plainly said she’d be the judge of that.

“The body is behind the partition there.”  The St. Mungo’s nurse nodded her chin in the direction of one of the folding privacy screens.

With long strides, Amelia made her way behind the divider.  Lying on an examination table was the expected corpse.  It was male, with its outdated clothing soaked with blood, and had its head set in a tray lying on its chest, cleanly severed from the rest of the body.  A quick onceover showed that rigor mortis had yet to set in; in fact, the body was still discernably warm.

With a somber look on her face she reemerged from behind the divider and demanded, “How is this not dire?”

“Relax,” Madam Pomfrey said with a mischievous grin, “no one died, at least not recently.”

The expression on Amelia’s face showed not a hint of the amusement that the nurse obviously thought was appropriate.

“Let me explain,” Madam Pomfrey said, unperturbed by the glare the Head of the DMLE was sending her.  “Our first-year Gryffindors decided it was a good idea to resurrect Myrtle.”

“They did what now?!?!”  Amelia and all six of the aurors turned their gaze to the girl sitting quietly on one of the rooms beds, observing everything going on around her.

“They resurrected Myrtle, did a rather nice job of it too.”  Madam Pomfrey gestured to the girl in question.  “It goes without saying that their second attempt didn’t go as well as the first.”  Her next gesture was toward the screen blocking the body from sight.

“I don’t know how many more earth-shaking developments I can tolerate being crammed into today,” Amelia Bones said, glancing behind the screen once more.  “Overhauling the Wizengamot was bad enough; I surely didn’t expect to be redefining life and death as well.”


XxX


From his spot on yet another clinic bed, Harry did his best to go unnoticed.

It was more than a little disconcerting that the school nurse had sent the rest of his classmates away.  For some reason, she had insisted he stay behind.  Now, the only ones left were Myrtle and himself.  There had been declarations of a pending checkup.  He could understand one for Myrtle; they had just resurrected her.  An exam for her was pretty much a given.  He, on the other hand, had never had a checkup in his memory.  His relatives had insisted that freaks didn’t deserve to go to the doctor; it was a waste of money.

Why were they bothering now?  No one had bothered before.  No one had cared before.  It was more than a little disconcerting.


XxX


Alice stood at the boundary of the estate.  As initiator of the rite, she had received first pick of the spoils.  It had not been a hard decision to claim the manor and the surrounding lands as the lion’s share of her portion.  Though not motivated by greed, she was well aware that the contents of the home would probably net her more than the listed value, a bonus to be sure.  However, with her portion of the other estates, it was hardly a deciding factor.  The clincher was that she now owned the symbol of power.  It would be a constant reminder of her success.  Its true worth could not be measured in mere galleons.

She crossed the threshold and, somehow, the wards recognized that the new owner had arrived.  Smiling to herself, Alice led her two-auror escort up the walkway toward the main entrance.  Malfoy Manor would be receiving a new name.


XxX


“Has he been resurrected as well?” Amelia quietly asked of Pomfrey, nodding to the young boy also in the room.

“No.”  Madam Pomfrey shook her head to emphasize the negative response.  “That’s Harry Potter; the judge has sent an order for him to undergo a physical.  I had wanted to do one earlier, but Albus insisted that it wasn’t necessary.  Now, I have no choice in the matter.”

“Dumbledore blocked you from doing a physical earlier?” Amelia frowned at the news.  “On what grounds?”

“He wouldn’t elaborate,” Pomfrey said, “but as the child’s magical guardian, he didn’t need to.”

Amelia sighed, “I sense yet another earth-shaking event on the horizon. If you don’t mind, I’d like to see that report before you send it to the judge.”

Pomfrey frowned at the implications lurking just below the surface.  “I’m pretty sure that whatever you’re thinking goes against conventional wisdom.”

“Didn’t you get the memo?” Amelia asked her.  “Conventional wisdom called in sick today.  I’m pretty sure it’s going to be absent tomorrow as well.”


XxX


Panting heavily, Emily Watson rushed down the hallway, racing the clock.  The small second-year Hufflepuff had just minutes until curfew, and she didn’t want to be caught out of bounds.  It was only the second day of classes after all; she had no desire to set the new record for points lost in the first week.

As luck would have it, she tripped.  The impact was awkward, she managed to land in a kneeling position and skidded to a halt.  The protective covering of her robes offered scant protection for her knees.  The resulting carpet burn left them skinned and bloody.

Hurriedly rolling onto her rear, Emily lifted the hem of her robe to inspect the damage.  Tears were starting to form in the corners of her eyes as she probed the broken skin.

Without warning, something leapt out and attached itself to her wounded left knee.  It was fast, blue and smelled strongly of menthol.  Emily did what any sane twelve-year-old would do in that situation; she screamed bloody murder.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

“Oooooooooooooooh!”

“Uuuummmmm.”

After hitting just about every vowel in the English language, Emily realized two things.  First, there was no more pain in her left knee.  Second, she could see that the skin had healed.

Emily prodded the blue mass and said, “Here now, don’t forget to get the other knee.”  Oddly enough, it complied.

After finishing, the mass of blue took off as quickly as it had arrived.  Gingerly, the second-year girl climbed to her feet and tested her newly-healed knees.

“Well, what do you know?” she said.  “Mouse is a medical slime.”


XxX


He had found a dark corner to call his own.  Right then, he was not proud and overbearing.  Right then, he was not an arrogant prat, belittling those beneath him.  Right then, he was not aloof and untouchable, as he had been taught.  Right then, he was not even the heir apparent of the proud and majestic House Malfoy.  No, right then, he was a child who had just lost their father, and that consumed his world.

And he was not the only one in the castle who shared that fate.


XxX


Upon returning to her office, Professor McGonagall summoned the remaining two heads of house for an emergency meeting.  Professor Sprout was the first to arrive, with a haggard-looking Professor Snape arriving soon after.

“Now that we are all here,” Minerva started, after Severus found his seat, “I’ve called this meeting to discuss a potentially disruptive new development.”

“Potentially disruptive?” Professor Snape snorted.  “I think it would be fair to say that the status quo is well and truly shattered.”

“Come now, Severus,” Minerva said shaking her head.  “It’s going to cause changes, but I hardly think the status quo is going to shift because of it.”

“Not shift?”  Severus couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “The very foundation of Magical Britain has shifted today.”

“It’s not that bad,” Minerva disagreed.

“You would think so,” Severus sneered, “but the lives of many of my house members have been devastatingly altered.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Flitwick broke into the growing argument.  “I don’t think you two are talking about the same thing here,” he observed.

Coldly, Severus gritted his teeth and said, “What else could we be talking about besides the recent execution of every former Death Eater on the Wizengamot.”

“What?!” Minerva sat back in her chair in shock, and Flitwick tumbled from his seat as he lost his balance.  Pomona let out a gasp of surprise, raising her hand to her mouth.

“You didn’t know?” Severus inquired, watching their responses.

“When did this happen?” Pomona asked, shaking her head.

“Before lunch,” Severus responded.  “Didn’t you find it odd that I was pulling students from their classes so early in the term?”

“I was going to ask you about that,” Minerva conceded.  “How did you find out?”

“Albus sent a letter.”

“It would have been nice if he had sent me one as well.”  Frowning, Minerva decided she was going to have a few choice words with the headmaster when he finally put in an appearance.

“How did it happen?” Flitwick asked, climbing back onto his chair.

“That information wasn’t in the letter,” Severus confessed.  “We will have to wait until Albus returns before we have our answers.”

“At least we now know why he hasn’t returned yet,” Pomona surmised.

“Though I am hesitant to ask,” Severus said as he nodded in agreement with Professor Sprout, “what was the matter you were talking about?”

“The Gryffindor first-years resurrected Myrtle Warren,” Flitwick offered from his reclaimed seat.

There was a moment of stunned silence.  “They did what, now?!” Pomona exclaimed as Severus groaned and slowly brought his palm to his face.

“We will be having an extra student in third-year Ravenclaw,” Minerva clarified.

Pomona sighed and sank back into her chair.  “Before we go any further, Minerva, now would be a grand time to break out the firewhiskey.”


XxX


“It’s funny,” Parvati said as she and her classmates sat around the common room table finishing their homework, “I remember going to get obliviated, I even remember getting obliviated, but I can’t recall what it was they were going to obliviate.”

“That’s kinda the whole idea,” Ginny chastised.  “But we now know we can resurrect ghosts.  Are we trying it on Professor Binns next?”

“I say we practice on someone else first, just to be sure.”  Seamus said, “I’m sure Nick is around and would be glad to help.”

The conversation stopped as they turned to watch Dean break out in uncontrollable laughter.

“I’m starting to have my suspicions on what they obliviated,” Hermione said over the laughter.

“Speaking of ghosts,” Lavender said, still watching Dean softly giggle in his chair, “what happens with Myrtle now?”

“What do you mean?”  Scootaloo shifted her gaze to her roommate askingly.

Lavender answered, “Who’s going to take care of her?  Who’s going to pay her tuition?  Where is she going to live when school is out?  She has been dead a long time; does she even have any family left?”

“Ah reckon we’ll be hoofing the bill,” Apple Bloom said, unaware of Hermione’s analytical look at her choice of words.  “We are responsible for her current predicament, afta all.”

“Does that mean more shopping?” Scootaloo asked, dismayed.

“Of course, it does!” Sweetie Belle said cheerfully.  “Human’s don’t walk around naked all day; she’s going to need a new wardrobe.”  Sweetie’s comment also received scrutiny from Hermione.

“I don’t think Myrtle considers her change of status as a predicament,” Parvati said.  “I’m sure the adults will work something out.”

“I wonder why they kept Harry and Myrtle,” Neville mused.  “They both looked all right to me.”

“Harry’s probably super immune to obliviate,” Dean suggested, “and of course they’re going to want to go over Myrtle with a fine-tooth comb.”

“He still has homework to complete,” Hermione griped.  “I hope they let him leave soon.”

“Homework isn’t that important,” Ron said with a shrug.  “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Hermione glared indignantly at Ron for his sacrilege.


XxX


Alice sat alone in the sitting room, feeling like a stranger in her new home.  The meeting with Narcissa Malfoy had gone better than she had hoped.  Someone had gotten news to the woman about what had happened earlier, and all Alice had to deal with was a stoic and yielding woman.  Though neither of them had said it, they both knew that with Alice’s claim of conquest, the younger witch practically owned the older.  In truth, the word “practically” could be thrown out of the previous sentence.  The old laws were much more misogynistic in nature, which perfectly matched the mindset of previous generations.  Alice had no idea what she was going to do with Narcissa.  She hadn’t really considered what she was going to do with any of her conquests today.  She had concentrated on winning first, the implications of success hadn’t been thought out.  By right of conquest, she was now responsible for several families.

As she sat in silence, a voice to her left said, “My, my, this is certainly a step up.”

Alice turned her head and saw that the stranger was wearing the same dapper suit as before.  “Are you ever going to tell me your name?”  She gestured for him to have a seat, surprised by the ease with which he had bypassed the wards.  “I would like to know who it is I owe so much to.”

“My dear,” the man replied, smiling as he took the offered seat, “I am surprised you are just now asking.  My name is Discord.”

“How completely ominous, yet fitting,” Alice observed

“I would hope so,” Discord said.  “My mother put a lot of thought into it.”

Alice smiled at the perceived joke.  “Would you care for some tea or anything?”

“Thank you, no.  I’ve just come from having tea with another.”

“Are you sure?  There is nothing you could not ask of me.” Alice smoothed her dress, suddenly aware that her obsessions had left room for little else in her life.  “If you were to ask me to bear your children, I would do so.”

For the first time, Discord seemed surprised.  Had she been too blunt with her interest?

“Um, yes . . .I . . .”  Discord fought for the right words.  “I did come to ask a favor, but um.  Oh my, look at the time!”

“Is that all it takes to fluster you?”  Alice leaned forward in her chair, glad she had chosen a dress that showed some cleavage.  She had here a proven powerful wizard that wasn’t wearing a ring; he was fair game.

“Um, that is . . .”  Discord dragged his gaze up to her face before he rushed through his reply.  “The information in those scrolls, well they are more than I’d be able to gather by myself on such short notice.  The one who gave them to me asked a favor in return, and you’re in the perfect position to help.”

“Oh?”  Alice placed her left hand to her breast, ensuring his gaze returned to where it belonged.  “Who gave you the help and at what price?”

“Spirit of Justice.  Nice lady.  You should meet her.  She keeps track of things like this.”  He rambled, obviously not used to situations turning on him in this manner.  “She wants Sirius Black freed; he’s innocent and never received a trial.  I really must go now, bye.”  Discord stood up and flashed from existence with a snap of his fingers.

What a coward!  Alice slumped back in her chair disappointed.  After a minute, a smile crept across her face.  She had just completed one life goal, and another fell into her lap to replace it.  How such a handsome man was so vulnerable to the attentions of women she didn’t know, but she was willing to take advantage of it.  Yes, he would make a fine prize; all it would take was a little work.

In the meantime, she’d have to see what she could do for Sirius.  If he were innocent, she’d do everything in her power to set him free.  Alice would have done it on principle alone; owing a favor to the Spirit of Justice in no way made her resolve stronger.  The Spirit would have only needed to ask, and she would have done it even before her recent conquests.  The only difference was she now had the means to be effective.


XxX


She sat on the clinic bed and felt the soft blankets as she ran her fingers over them.  She felt the soft blankets.  She FELT the soft blankets.  It was enough to bring tears to her eyes.  It had been a very long time since she had the sense of touch, a long-forgotten memory of a memory.

Her heart beat excitedly in her chest.






And then there was this presence.  It penetrated the very room, softly making itself known.  It was a wish she had never thought to be answered.  She could smell the disinfectant in the room!  She had a sense of smell!

Her heart beat excitedly in her chest.






She was feeling something else -- a pain?  Was this a feeling of pain?  She couldn’t remember.  It was starting to engulf her attention, taking priority over all else.  What was it?  Should she tell the nurse? Without warning, her midsection made a noise, a gurgling noise!  Oh, she was hungry.  She would be able to eat again, to taste!

Her heart beat excitedly in her chest.






Was it a dream?  A cruel, cruel dream?  But, ghost don’t dream, they remember.  No, this was real!  She was alive!

SHE HAD RISEN!

Her HEART BEAT excitedly in her chest.  Some may take it for granted, but Myrtle never would again.


XxX


Hermione bit her lower lip in worry.  What if she were wrong?  Heck, what if she were right?

They were in the dorm room again; it looked like it had just received a thorough cleaning.  That was not essential since most of their time was spent in one trunk or another.  In fact, they were currently filing into Sweetie’s for an evening bath.

Screwing up her courage, Hermione tapped the girl in front on her shoulder.  “Scootaloo, could I talk to you alone for a minute?”

“Um, sure,” the purple-haired girl agreed, confused.  She had purple hair, naturally purple hair.  “You girls go ahead; I’m going to see what Hermione wants.”

Hermione waited impatiently for the rest of the group to descend out of earshot, leaving a frustrated Magah guarding the entrance of the chest.  Then, she reached into the shoulder bag she was wearing and retrieved a familiar book.

Taking a deep breath, she confronted her new friend.  Yes, she was a friend, and hopefully it would stay that way.  “Scootaloo, this book was written neither by humans nor for humans.”  There, she said it.

Scootaloo looked at her quizzically, finding nothing profound in that statement, “Yeah?”

Hermione took another deep breath and tried again.  “Scootaloo, are you a unicorn?”

“No,” Scootaloo said.  Then, as Hermione opened her mouth to protest, Scootaloo explained, “I’m a pegasus pony.”

Surprise stole Hermione’s next words; all she got out was, “What?”

“I’m a pegasus pony,” Scootaloo repeated patiently, as if the answer were obvious.

Hermione stood silently for a few seconds, amazed by both the answer and the ease by which it was obtained.  “I see . . . Sweetie Belle is the unicorn pony; that’s why Magah is having fits over her.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said again.

Hermione paused again.  “You don’t mind me knowing?”

“No,” Scootaloo said as she shrugged, “should I?”

Hermione took a deep breath.  “No.  No, I suppose you shouldn’t.  We are friends and all,” Hermione conceded.

Scootaloo nodded.  “Was that all you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes . . .No . . .”  Hermione faltered and Scootaloo tilted her head questioningly.  “May I see your true form?”

“Oh!”  Scootaloo said sadly, “I can’t right now, but follow me.”  With that, she disappeared into the trunk and Hermione followed.  Magah tried to follow again, but she was just too big.

Soon they were with the rest of the girls, who were just getting into the tub.

“Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo said to the redhead wearing nothing but a copper band on one finger, “Hermione wants to see you transform.”

“Waa?”  Apple Bloom looked up to gaze at Hermione.  “Now?”

Ginny snapped her head to look at Hermione as well; how had she found out?

"Yeah."  Scootaloo nodded.  "Now."

“Okay,” Apple Bloom agreed, and her human form melted away.  In its place was a little yellow pony with a mane and tail as bright red as Apple Bloom’s hair had been.

Scootaloo counted down on her fingers.  3 . . .2 . . .1 . . .

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati shrieked, while Hermione would swear she did not participate.  Nor was the fact that she was still dressed the only reason she didn’t join the other two in the rushing across the tub as they blocked off the younger Ginny to scoop up and hug Apple Bloom

“I forgot they did that,” Sweetie Belle said as she scooted out of the way.

“I didn’t.”  Scootaloo smirked evilly.

Before anything else was said, there was a rush of footfalls followed by Fay and the sixth-year prefect bursting into the room.

“What’s wrong?!” Fay shouted, her nerves past the fraying point.  “Is everyone all right?”

“A little help, please,” Apple Bloom said from where she was being squished between Parvati and Lavender.

Fay stared at the little yellow pony being smothered by love.  “On top of everything else, you’re an animagus?”

“Help?” Apple Bloom vainly repeated.

“Girls,” the sixth-year prefect admonished, “let her breathe.”

Lavender and Parvati returned pouting silent pleas.

“Down . . . now.”  The sixth-year prefect pointed to the tub.

Sighing dejectedly, the two girls lowered their prize back into the tub.  As soon as her hooves touched the bottom, Apple Bloom scooted back and transformed into her human form.  “Tha’s scary,” she informed everyone.

“Are we all done with the surprises for the night?”  Fay flung her arms into the air.  “If not, I hear there are acromantulas in the forest that need slaying.”

“Where in the forest?” Lavender piped up, and Sweetie Belle asked, “Are they good to eat?”

“Forget I said that,” Fay said, placing her palm over her face.  “Seriously, just forget I ever said that.  If I knew obliviate, I’d use it on you right now.”

“We’ve already done that once tonight,” Scootaloo reminded her.

“I know,” Fay snapped.  “I was tempted to go myself.”

“Would you care to join us in a nice hot and relaxing bath?” Sweetie Belle offered as way of appeasement.

“No, no.”  Fay shook her head and gestured for the other prefect to follow her out of the bathing area.  “I’ve just had one shock too many tonight.”

After watching the two older girls leave, Apple Bloom turned to Hermione and asked, “What’s an acromantula?”


XxX


Grumpily, Judge Brown answered her front door.  Her day had been too hectic to be having people calling at this late an hour.  Her day tomorrow was probably going to be worse.  Opening the door, she beheld one of the people she least wanted to see at that moment.  A home visit from the head of the DMLE was not a common occurrence and didn’t bode well for a peaceful evening.

“Yes?” Judge Brown asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Evening, your honor,” Amelia Bones said grimly, “I’m sorry to bother you at home at such an hour, but I have two urgent matters to discuss with you.”

“Two?”

“The first item is unprecedented, and frankly I don’t even know where to start with the ramifications and implications.” Amelia said.

“Go on.”  Judge Brown motioned for her to continue.

“The first year Gryffindors have successfully resurrected the ghost of a former student,” Amelia said with no humor,

“They did what, now?” Judge Brown asked in a slow cadence.

Amelia nodded her head in understanding.  “That was my reaction as well.  Myrtle Warren’s status is going to be a headache, one way or another.”

“The ghost in the bathroom?”

“That’s her,” Amelia agreed.

“She’s alive now?” Judge Brown’s mind was whirling through the legal implications for this event.

“Yes, and their second attempt did not go as well as the first,” Amelia continued.

Judge Brown fixed her gaze on the other woman waiting for the shoe to drop.

“We are still not sure how or if we shall dispose of the body,” Amelia said tiredly.

“Ah,” Judge Brown acknowledged.

“So, I just happened to be in the infirmary when they did the examination of Mr. Potter.”  Amelia raised a folder she was carrying in her left hand.

The judge raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“You’re not going to be happy,” Amelia finished.

Judge Brown studied the other woman a second.  “Come on in, I’ll put some tea on.”


XxX


There were blackboards everywhere in the room.  Each and every one of them was covered in writing.  The same sentence was repeated, over and over again.  At one blackboard, a small dragon was busy wiping it clean for another round.  The words, “I shall not send dangerous spells to fillies without first consulting my friends, even when said spells are supposed to be harmless.” dominated the room.

“Am I finished yet?”

“We’ll let you know when you are done, darling.”

“Isn’t this kind of juvenile?”

“If’n y’all be wanting juvenile, we could just break out the paddle.”

“No, no, I’m good.  Just let me get a new piece of chalk, this one is done for.  And what’s with you girls wanting to hit lately?”

In the corner, a cyan mare was still laughing her flank off.

 
> Chapter 19: Morning Reflections
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sleep was doggedly evading her.  Something she had been so sure of had turned out to be untrue.  Powerless to contain her frustration any longer, she prodded the bundle of warmth lying next to her.

“Sweetie?!” Ginny said in a whisper, “are you awake?”

“Gaaaaa?  Waaa?” came the reply.

“I asked if you were awake.”

“Whaazup?”

“Sweetie,” Ginny asked, unable to wait for the morning, “why doesn’t Apple Bloom have a horn?”

Sweetie Belle gave as a slurred response.  “Earth pony.”

“Oh . . .”  Ginny scrunched her nose in thought.  “Is Scoots an earth pony too?”

“Pegasus.”

“Oh.”  A small pause almost let Sweetie Belle fall back to sleep.  “I noticed you’re not wearing your pendant anymore.”

Sweetie Belle had to focus for a few seconds to get an answer out.  “Dun need it.”  She touched her ring to Ginny’s nose.

“Where’s your necklace now?”

Sweetie Belle pointed.  “Top drawer.”  She then let her hand drop back onto the bed.

“May I see it?”

“Dun care.”  Sweetie Belle rolled over to get some more sleep, barely registering the other girl climbing over her to get out of bed.

Some time later, Sweetie Belle was prodded awake once more.  “Huuh? Waaaa?”

“I need some help, please,” came the urgent whisper.  “I can’t get this off with my hooves.”

Sweetie Belle hugged the furry form snugly and went back to sleep with a contented smile.


XxX




Alice rose groggily from her new bed.  It was much softer than what she was used to, and she had to fight the temptation to crawl back in for another hour or two.  She couldn’t afford to, though.  There was an innocent man in Azkaban.  Forcing him to wait another month because she was too lazy to get up and study was unthinkable.  Failing to get him out on the first try was unforgivable.

With no ceremony, she poured herself into a fluffy housecoat and went off to find the kitchen.  Right then and there, some tea would do her a great deal of good.

A fruitless search of the ground level yielded no kitchen.  “How do they get their tea around here?” she softly asked out loud.

“Dobby be getting tea for new mistress,” a voice behind her said.

Whirling on the spot, Alice beheld a small humanoid with large eyes, dressed in a ratty pillow case.  “Is everyone going to sneak up on me from now on?” she asked the house elf as she recognized what it was.

The small figure trembled and cowered away from Alice.  “Dobby scare new mistress.  Dobby be slamming his ears in oven door as punishment.”

Alice froze where she stood, the feeling of dread appearing in the pit of her stomach.  “What?!  No!”

“Does new mistress be wanting Dobby to be ironing his own hands instead?”

“What!?!?!  No!!!” Alice repeated.

“Dobby is bad elf.  Dobby must be punishing himself.”

“No! No! No!” Alice blurted as she ran over to the small form and wrapped it in a fierce hug.  “You aren’t a bad elf!  Why would you even think I wanted you to harm yourself?”

“Old master wants Dobby to slam ears in stove door if Dobby startles him.  Doesn’t new mistress want the same?”

The words of the elf filled Alice with a revulsion so thick that she could have spread it on a piece of toast.  Here was one who had suffered daily under the thumb of Lucius.  Here was one who had not been offered any way out of his own personal hell.  Here was one who had suffered every bit as much as she had, at the hands of the monster.  Here was one she had saved, would save, and would do her best to make whole.

A dam gave way to the pressure, as one last crack destroyed its last bit of integrity.  Emotions that had been boiling beneath the surface for years now bubbled free.  In her soft, fluffy housecoat, Alice sat on the floor hugging the startled and confused elf tightly to herself as her sobs wracked both their frames.


XxX


Professor McGonagall was up early yet again.  Albus had not returned to the castle the night before, so it fell to her to take care of the unparalleled circumstances brought about by her first-years.  A portion of the quagmire had been held back by having Myrtle stay in the clinic overnight for observation.  In reality, it was not much of a delay.  It barely gave breathing room until the next morning.  Minerva was immensely grateful for the news that Amelia Bones would be talking to a judge in regard to the situation.  Otherwise, she would have had to cancel her own classes on just the third day of instruction, something she had never imagined in even her worst nightmare.

Where was Albus when she needed him?  Whatever had happened at the Wizengamot yesterday was ill-timed.  Candidly, whatever had happened was long past due.  It was the first-years who had to work on their timing.

Sighing, Minerva reached for a stack of papers.  Filius’ time would be needed to take care of some of the more delicate matters.  It was unfair to count on him in such a manner, even with him being the head of the girl’s house.  On top of that was the whole state of affairs with a good portion of the Slytherin house.  No matter how much the adults may have deserved the punishment, no child should have to go through what they would be.  But make no mistake, the fault lay fully at the feet of the former Death Eaters and no one else.

Furthermore, she had yet to talk to Kettleburn about the forest unicorn.  It was obvious why she was preoccupied with Ms. Belle, once you knew the secret.  That didn’t make the logistics of having a full-grown unicorn in the castle any less cumbersome.  How had they even managed to get her in the dorm in the first place?  Wait a minute!  How had they gotten the boys into the girls’ dorm?


XxX


Harry awoke to the gentle prodding from a young girl.

“Come on, Harry,” she said as he began to focus.  “It’s my turn to wake you today.  So, get up.”

Smiling, Harry recognized the voice behind the mauve and pink blur.  As wakeup calls went, this wasn’t bad.  In fact, he could get used to it.

Suddenly, an impatient unicorn grabbed his pajama collar from behind and dragged him bodily from his bed, and he heard Dean shout from the other side of the room over the creak of bedsprings, “Scoots, that’s getting old!”


XxX


Paperwork, first thing in the morning, was not her favorite activity.  It couldn’t be helped, though.  Amelia was going to have to coordinate with the muggle authorities on this one.  That meant paperwork needed to be filled out, and the right muggles had to be contacted.  As it was right now, this was going to be a jurisdictional fight.  That didn’t matter, as long as justice was served.

“Good morning,” a voice said, and Amelia’s head snapped up, allowing her to see that her visitor chair was now filled.

Recognizing her guest from the descriptions given by both Moody and Judge Brown, Amelia got down to business.  “Good morning, Mr. Discord.  How may I help you this morning?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” the wizard admitted and wandlessly conjured a cup of American coffee with a snap of his fingers.  “One second I was innocently snoozing in my own bed; the next, I was rudely yanked out and tossed here with orders to stop you.”

Amelia frown at the implications; was someone monitoring her office?  “Stop me?  Stop me from what?”

“I don’t know,” he said, pouring the contents of his cup down his throat.  “I was hoping you’d enlighten me.”

Still frowning, Amelia studied her visitor.  Reports had shown he had a vested interest in the welfare of children.  His annoying habit of showing up unannounced was a quirk, nothing more.  There wasn’t anything she was doing that he probably wouldn’t agree with; in fact, he’d more than likely want to help.  It would be better to keep him where she could keep an eye on him.  Decision made, she slid the paperwork she had been working on over for him to view.

“Oh! My, my, my,” he said after running his eyes over the forms.  “This would be exactly what she was so upset over.”

“She found this upsetting?”  Amelia’s surprise lit her voice, leaving the head of the DMLE wondering who this “she” was.

“Yes, although I agree with the underlying sentiment, I’m afraid you have the wrong targets.”  Discord flipped his empty coffee cup over his shoulder, and it disappeared midflight.  “While I would have no issue with this course of action, my newest acquaintance has issues with this sort of thing.  You would be better served checking for compulsion spells rather than arresting them.”

Amelia sharply sat back in her chair as the implications hit her.  “Looks like it did call in sick again after all,” she muttered.

“Now,” Discord said leaning back in his own chair, “since I appear to have completed my appointed task, I have other matters to attend to.”  With another snap of his fingers, he was gone in a flash of light.

Moody had been right; the apparition wards never even took notice of him.  Whatever method of travel he employed breached traditional defenses without apparent effort.  She was going to have to assume that wherever this Equestria was, they had a force of wizards with the same skill set.  Frighteningly, it couldn’t be a coincidence that they were sending students to Hogwarts and announcing their presence to the world at the same time as the Wizengamot upheaval.  A connection was more than certain.

Brandishing her wand, Amelia started sweeping her office for monitoring charms.  She needed to have another conversation with Judge Brown.


XxX


There was a new addition to the breakfast menu, bacon-wrapped apple fritters with a glistening brown sugar glaze.  The platter bearing them was empty before all of the first-years had taken their seats.

“Apple Bloom!” Hermione admonished, “some of the rest of us want one too!  And Ron, you have to chew, sometime.  Swallowing those whole can’t be good for you.”

“You know,” Parvati commented, reaching over to snatch a fritter from Apple Bloom’s plate, “there’s an ‘eating like a horse’ joke just waiting to be made here.”

“Speaking of horses,” Seamus broke in, “There’s a feed bag here, full of oats too.”

“What’s a feedbag?” Scootaloo asked, making a grab for the treats on Ron’s plate.  In response, Seamus stood up and placed a large canvas bag over Magah’s muzzle.

“I’m surprised she let you do that,” Lavender said as a look of contentment crossed Magah’s face.

“I think she’s getting used to us,” Neville said, not even trying for the new treat.  “If we can get used to the presence of a unicorn, why shouldn’t she return the favor?”

“Used to a unicorn?” Dean asked.  “Are you just ignoring the stares?”

Neville shrugged and went back to his breakfast.  He couldn’t help it if the rest of the school was still in awe over Magah.

“Speaking of staring,” Harry asked, “where’s Philomena?”

“I sent here to Twilight with a new spell request,” Sweetie Belle answered.

“More on resurrections?” Seamus asked.

“Nah,” Scootaloo said, finding the bacon-covered apple pastries were to her liking, “we need some help with our next quest objective.”


XxX


“Oh, good morning Philomena.” Twilight said, strolling up to the phoenix.  “I see you have a letter for me.  Would you like some breakfast while I read it?”

Philomena trilled her acceptance.

“Another letter from the Crusaders?” Spike asked from the doorway to the kitchen, wielding a hot frying pan and wearing an apron.  “I hope they aren’t asking for more resurrection spells.”

After giving the letter a once over, Twilight responded, “No, nothing so drastic. They just want a spell to kill large spiders.”

Snickering, Spike turned back to the kitchen, “Fillies can be such wusses over tiny spider. I am surprised that the Crusaders fall in that stereotype though.”

“They did emphasize that they were large spiders!” Twilight rebuked the baby dragon.

Spike rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, right.”


XxX


Professor McGonagall stood from her seat at the head table and let a stream of sparks leap from her wand.

“Good morning, students,” she said once she had everyone’s attention.  “I have some important announcements this morning.”  She paused to make sure all the students were listening.  “First of all, under no circumstances are students to resurrect the remaining school ghosts.”

Stunned silence met the declaration, with the exception of a seventh-year Hufflepuff who said, “Wait!  Could you repeat that?”

“Yes, Mr. Harris.”  Professor McGonagall acknowledged the question.  “I said that students were forbidden to resurrect the school ghosts.  The Gryffindor house ghost has yet to put in an appearance since the last failed attempt, and the other school ghosts have yet to locate him.”

“Someone killed a ghost?”  Robert Hilliard, a prefect from the Ravenclaw table, asked in astonishment.

“We are unsure of the current status of Sir Nicholas,” Professor McGonagall corrected.  “It should be sufficient to say that future resurrection attempts shall be punished, unless otherwise instructed by a professor.”

“Does that extend to poltergeists as well?”

“Yes, Mr. Weasley, it most assuredly does,” Professor McGonagall answered; she shuddered to think of the results of the Weasley twins getting their hands on the resurrection spell.

Professor McGonagall let a roll of murmuring wash over the student body before continuing.  “On a happier note, Myrtle Warren shall be rejoining the Ravenclaw house as a third-year student.”

Again, silence met her announcement until, from the Ravenclaw table came, “Ouch! Why’d you pinch me?!”

“I wanted to see if I was dreaming.”

“You’re supposed to pinch yourself to do that!”

“That would hurt too much.”

Professor McGonagall let the infraction slide and moved on to the next order of business.  “Furthermore, as you can all see, we have two new faces at the faculty table.”

As one, the students turned their attention to the new curiosity.  “I would like to introduce Miss Weiss and Mr. Goodman.  They have been contracted to be private tutors for some of our students, as such, they will receive all the respect due a sitting professor.”  The last was said with an absolute certainty that bode poorly for any student that sought to test the statement.

A round of clapping greeted the new additions to the school, who waved in return.

“The next item is a schedule alteration for today only.”  Professor McGonagall continued, “Due to unforeseen circumstances, first-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs who were originally slated for double charms this morning shall instead be meeting with Madam Hooch first period for an early introduction to broom riding.  Their second period shall be a free period, with the exception of the members of my house who missed their first Herbology class yesterday.  They shall be joining their classmates who are due their own first herbology class at this time.”

Some of the first-year Gryffindors winced at the news, but none voiced any protest.

“There is more to discuss,” Professor McGonagall said, “but I’m afraid the morning post has arrived; we shall continue the announcements afterwards.”

On her cue, owls flooded the air.


XxX


“So, are you sending them the spell they asked for?”

“First, I’m going to let the girls know.  I don’t want to end up writing on blackboards, all night . . . again.”

“So, you’re going to see Rarity?”

“Yes, did you want to come?”  The only response she received was the front door slamming from the slipstream as her assistant made tracks.  Sighing, Twilight turned to Philomena, who was sharing a perch with Owlowiscious.  “For the record, that question was rhetorical.”


XxX


Within seconds, Apple Bloom was bombarded by a parliament of owls.  Seven landed on the table in front of her, while one landed on each of her shoulders.  The last, boldest by far, landed on her head.

“What the?” Dean asked moving his plate out of the way of the confusion.

“Mah potions lab!” Apple Bloom cried gleefully as she started collecting packages and stamping payment receipts.

“Should we be worried?” Seamus asked watching the girl collect her prizes.

“Nah,” Scootaloo shook her head, “she’s not Sweetie Belle.”

“Hey!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed as another owl found her, “Oh, hello,” she said, recognizing the order.  “Actually, I need you to deliver that to Rarity along with this letter.”  With those words, she stamped the owl’s payment receipt and retrieved a letter from her shoulder bag.

“Sweetie!” Percy called from down the table.  “You’re going to want to read the ‘Daily Prophet’.”

“Who else is starting to detect a pattern, here?” Harry asked and put down his pumpkin juice.


XxX


Unhurriedly, Twilight walked down the street, waving at the ponies she passed.

She heard Rainbow Dash say from above her, “Going to see Rarity?”

Looking up, Twilight waved.  “Yes, how’d you guess?”

“Spike just tore through here.”  Rainbow Dash landed next to Twilight with a smirk.

“Ooooo, is he going to see the new present?”  Startled, Twilight turned and saw that Pinkie Pie had somehow joined the conversation.

“Present?” Twilight asked, regretting it even as she did so.

“My Pinkie Sense told me somepony was going to receive an extra special present.”

“Really?” Rainbow Dash asked.  “Who?”

“I don’t know.”  Pinkie Pie bounced up and down in frustration.  “Nopony at the market seems to be the lucky one.  Daisy said she didn’t receive any packages lately, neither did Roseluck nor Lily for that matter.  Applejack said she’s too busy setting up her stall for the day and didn’t have time.  Aloe said she’d have to check back at the spa.  Heavy Anvil was grunting too hard to make out what he was saying, and Jelly Jar was playing with those huge jars of his . . .”

“Wait a second,” Twilight interrupted.  “Did you say Applejack was in the market square?”

“Yeah.”  Pinkie Pie nodded her head way faster than was necessary.

“Good, I need to talk to her.”  Twilight changed directions midstride.  “We’ll just grab her on the way to Rarity’s.”

“Why?” Rainbow Dash fell in step, only her hooves weren’t on the ground.  “Is something up?”

“Just a new spell request from the Crusaders.”

“At some point, you’re going to stop using words like ‘just’, ‘only’, and ‘harmless’ when you refer to those three.”  Pinkie Pie noted, “Especially, that last one.”

“If she asks ‘what could possibly go wrong?’, I’m calling for backup,” Rainbow Dash agreed.


XxX


“I’m going to have to get my own subscription soon.” Sweetie Belle noted as she stared at the headline dominating the paper's front page.

In front of her were the words, “LEADER OF THE LIGHT CLAIMS HER SEAT!  CORRUPTION ROOTED FROM THE HIGHEST OFFICES!” The only other thing on the front page was a large moving picture of Sweetie Belle riding Magah into the Wizengamot chambers.  In all, the paper seemed significantly thicker than the previous ones she had seen.

“Aren’t you going to open that?” Hermione asked as she leaned over Sweetie Belle’s shoulder to read.

“I’m afraid to,” Sweetie Belle admitted.

“What exactly did you do at the Wizengamot yesterday?” Parvati whistled, “You weren’t gone that long.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Sweetie Belle insisted.  “I swear.”


XxX


Big Macintosh was bucking apples in the north field when the owl arrived.  It was the biggest owl he had ever seen.  Granted, the only owl he saw with any regularity was the one Twilight had, but this one out massed Owlowiscious, by a factor of at least four.  It offered a leg with a message attached.  Adding to its peculiarity was the strange harness it wore, holding a bag across its breast.

“Howdy,” Big Macintosh greeted politely.   “That for me?”

The owl nodded and continued to hold out its leg.

“Thank you kindly.”  The owl had no way of knowing that it had just received the lion share of the large pony’s normal daily word allowance.

Big Macintosh delicately retrieved the letter and began to read.

Dear Big Mac,

Hello, guess what!  Turns out, you can owl order owls.  Mr. Dylan was kind enough to purchase this owl and outfit him right proper like with a magic pouch.  You should find all the things you need for your new pet in the pouch.  Mr. Dylan did that for me too.  I figured that since Applejack has Winona, you could do with a pet of your own.  Besides, owls are real good at delivering things.  They do it all the time over here, send stuff out with owls and the owls return with payments.  I can’t wait to hear what you name him.

I’m having a great time at school.  I made a whole mess of new friends, and we haven’t gotten in too much trouble.  There is the possibility that Sweetie Belle has manage to get us a colt in the process, but we aren’t sure if the marriage contract is real or not.  Scootaloo has gotten her wings fixed but can’t fly yet.  That is, she can’t fly without a broom yet.

I’m getting my own potions lab by owl here soon.

I love you, please say hello to Applejack and Granny for me and let them know I love them too.

Love,

Apple Bloom

Stuffing the letter safely under his harness, Big Macintosh turned to the owl.  “You need a name?”

The bird nodded its head.

“Featherduster?”

The bird shook its head no.

“Bigbeak?”

Another shake of the head.

“Lodestone?”

The owl seemed to think it over then nodded his head.

Grunting in satisfaction, Big Macintosh returned to his apple bucking.


XxX


“Won’t you all come in?” Rarity said upon seeing her friends gathered outside her door.  “Spike’s in the back getting us some morning tea.”

“Morning, Rarity,” Applejack said, trotting into Rarity’s home and place of business.  “Twilight here was about to tell us about the Crusaders’ newest spell request.  Sorry to say, Ah don’t have ta time to stop for tea, though.”

“They want another spell already?” Rarity asked as she held the door for Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie.  “Doesn’t the school they go to have a library full of spells?”

“You know,” Twilight stopped where she was.  “Now that you mentioned it, they probably do have access to a large number of books, I wonder why they keep asking me for spells.”

“Pish.”  Rainbow Dash waved a dismissive hoof.  “That’s easy; they know you know where all your spells are in your library.  You’re saving them the trouble of searching through beaucoup books to find their answers.”

“You think they’re using me to cheat at school?” Twilight gasped at the thought.

“Nah, they’re just using your help for their side projects.”

“Speaking of side projects,” Rarity said, “what are they asking after this time?”

“They want a spider killing spell,” Spike said as he carried a tray laden with tea in from the back room

“For extremely large spiders, according to their letter,” Twilight added.

“How large are we talking here?” Applejack asked, “A’ve seen those three corner a big spider just this summer, in the barn.  Sucker was as big as a bit, didn’t scare the fillies none.”

“You know, considering we’re talking about a spell to kill spiders,” Pinkie Pie interjected, “I find that I’m real glad that Fluttershy’s not here right now.”

Everypony in the room looked at Pinkie Pie for a second before continuing with their conversation.

“Do you think they have an infestation in their dormitory?” Rarity asked, concerned.

“Ah don’t know,” Applejack said shaking her head, “but the more ah think about it, the more suspicious it sounds.”

“Perhaps, you should write to their teachers and get their input on the matter, before sending the spell,” Rarity suggested.

Twilight was about to agree when Rainbow Dash pointed with her hoof and said, “Look, you got mail.”

“Are you going to say that every time you see a strange owl?” Rarity asked as she watched the bird enter through the open top half of her front door.

“Pretty much,” Rainbow Dash replied

Sighing softly Rarity turned to the owl.  “Good morning; I see you have brought me a package, oh, and a letter as well.”

“Hoo!” the owl agreed bobbing its head and offering its leg with the delivery attached.

“Why, thank you very much, darling,” Rarity said, using her magic to retrieve the items.  “We were about to have some tea; would you care for some?”

The owl shook its head.

“Well, at least have a biscuit or two,” Rarity insisted.  “I made them myself.”

The owl gratefully took a biscuit and left the same way it came.

“Ooh.  Ooh.  Ooh.” Pinkie Pie oohed and began to bounce around Rarity excitedly.  “You got the present.  You got the present!”

“Now, now Pinkie,” Twilight said to the bouncing pony, “let her open it before you get excited over it.

“Okay,” Pinkie Pie said as she stopped bouncing, only to visibly vibrate as she contained her excitement.

“Pinkie,” Rainbow Dash observed, “I think you're chipping the floor.”

Rolling her eyes slightly, Rarity opened the package and found that it contained a small model trunk.  It was a beautiful piece of art with its main body the same color as her coat and trimmed with wood colored like her mane.  It even had her cutie mark proudly displayed on its top.  Seeing no way to open it, Rarity turned to the accompanying letter.  “Dear Rarity,” she read out loud.  “You have always impressed upon me the importance of having good luggage.  So, I’ve sent you the best I could find.  I’m not going to repeat all the directions in this letter, as I’ve had Mr. Dylan put the instruction manual on your coffee table.  This letter only contains the basics for you to get started.  The first thing you will want to do is tap it three times with your horn to make it grow.”

Rarity moved the letter off to the side, still in her magical grasp, and studied the miniature chest once more. “Spike, darling, would you mind going to check my coffee table for the rest of the instructions please?” she said.  Then, hesitantly, she tapped the small chest against her horn three times.  Abruptly the trunk expanded to a more practical size.

“Woah!” Rainbow Dash said as she moved forward to examine the curiosity.  “Did you see that?”

“That thar was mighty impressive,” Applejack agreed as she also moved forward for a look.

“The present!  The present!”  Pinkie Pie bounced in for a closer look as well.

Moving back so that her friends could get a closer look, Rarity brought the letter back and read the next few lines so softly that only Twilight and herself heard, “Secondly, don’t try to open it until you’ve bound it to yourself.  Otherwise it might get aggressive.”

Rarity blinked, unable to fully comprehend what she had just read.  “Rainbow, darling, I don’t think you should open that just yet,” she warned when she saw her friend’s hoof had found the lid of the chest.

“I just want to take a peek inside.” Rainbow Dash said.

“Rainbow!” Twilight said urgently.  “You really should wait!”

“It’s got my tail!”

“Ah’ll save ya!”

“Wheeeeeeee!”

“Look out!  Look out!”

“Pinkie watch yourself thar!”

“Aaaaah! It just swallowed Pinkie!”

“Come here ya varmint, Ah’ll show you what’s what.”

“It’s got my tail again!”

“Y’all better give those two back right now, ‘fore ah make you into kindling!”

As suddenly as it started, it stopped.  The chest settled back into its original position, once again looking like a harmless, inanimate object.

“Rarity,” Twilight said, staring wide eyed at the wooden horror.

“Yes, darling?”

“Hurry up and read the rest of that letter.”

From inside the trunk came a knocking.  “Hello?  A little help, please,” said Rainbow Dash’s muffled voice.

“Rainbow, be careful; y’all stepping on my hat!”

“You know,” Pinkie Pie’s voice said, “I can’t shake the feeling that I should have seen that coming.”
> Interlude 2: Homecoming
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lounging in a comfortable gingham duster as she shifted about on a well-loved easy chair, Emily Smith indulged in her morning ritual of reading the newspaper.  The years had been generous to her, and life had generally been kind.  Having just recently celebrated her sixtieth birthday, she could honestly say she had been one of the lucky ones.  Financially, she was well off; her large, six-bedroom house attested to that.  More importantly, she had family.  Her nine-year-old granddaughter was even now sprawled out on the carpeted floor, watching some cartoon or other on the telly.  True, the girl’s mother, Emily’s own daughter, had yet to rise for the day, but that was hardly a concern.

In the other room, Emily’s own mother, Olivia, was puttering around on her computer.  The eighty-year-old woman had ignored the stereotype stating that elders could not fathom new technologies.  It was safe to say that both Emily’s mother and granddaughter knew more about the blasted machines than she did herself.

Surprisingly, it was the computers that were the source of what little tension there was in the household.  Olivia had found BBS and IRC channels online claiming that magic was real.  As long as she could remember, Emily had listened to her mother insist that magic was real; with the discovery of likeminded individuals, Olivia's certainty only intensified.  This would not have been a problem, except that Olivia had been teaching her great-granddaughter, Amy.  Suddenly, all those strange situations that couldn’t be explained were labeled "accidental magic", and the young girl was anticipating a letter of acceptance to a magic school when she turned eleven, a letter delivered by owls, no less.  Seriously, she expected an owl.

So, except for the small issue of magic, Emily had four generations of her beloved family living peacefully under the same roof.  The sad fact was that they were her only remaining family.  Her father was long gone, and her own husband had followed not four years ago.  Infuriatingly, her daughter had never married and had produced Amy out of wedlock.  Luckily, this did not have the same stigma that it had carried in the time of Emily’s own youth.

As she sat there, watching her granddaughter and contemplating the extent of her family, the doorbell chimed.

“I got it!”  Amy leapt from her spot before the telly and rocketed toward the front door.  Despite being told dozens of times to wait for her elders before answering the door, the little girl still dearly loved to be there first when it opened.  Emily had arranged for the handyman to install a swing bar door guard as safety measure.  That had lasted all of two minutes against a four-year-old Amy and a broomstick, but, still, it did slow her down.

Emily arrived just as Amy was yanking open the door to see who it was.

“Amy!” Emily scolded as she hurried to her granddaughter’s side.  “How many times have you been told not to do that.  What if it’s strangers waiting to snatch little girls just waiting on the other side of that door?!”

She had been half right; there were two strangers on the other side of the door.  Neither looked like they could snatch little girls, though.  The first was a small man; Emily saw that he suffered from dwarfism.  The other was a girl, a young teen by the looks of her.  The girl looked strikingly familiar, though Emily could not quite put a name to that face.

“Yes?” Emily said, acknowledging the callers with a pleasant smile.

“Good morning,” the little man said in a tone that, though cheerful, left little doubt that this was serious business.  “My name is Professor Flitwick, and I apologize for bothering you so early in the morning, but does Olivia Warren still reside here?”

Scrunching her nose, Amy called out, “Granny!  You’ve got visitors!” before Emily could formulate a reply to the question.

Sighing at her granddaughter, Emily invited the two into the foyer, unwilling to make them wait outside.  This was something her daughter would have highly disapproved of, but Emily refused to be rude just for the illusion of greater safety.

Emily observed the two as she waited for her mother to put in an appearance.  The small professor, who seemed to be a caricature of a teacher miniaturized, stood calmly, waiting with a worried expression on his face.  The girl, on the other hand, fidgeted and looked around as if trying to take in every detail.  Emily was sure she even inhaled deeply several times as if to take in the scent of her surroundings.  The feeling that she should know the girl only grew, and Emily realized that the stranger looked a lot like her own daughter had at that age.  Had her late husband fathered a bastard?  Was she going to stuck with a symbol of his infidelity, young enough to be her granddaughter?

“Yes, Emily?  Who is it?”  Olivia finally put in her appearance, drawing Emily out of her musings.

In response, Emily gestured toward their guests, waiting for them to say their piece.

Upon seeing the two standing in the foyer, Olivia’s hands flew to cover her mouth, and she let out a startled gasp.

The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of Olivia, and she said, of all things, “You're still alive?”

“Myrtle?” Olivia said in a voice full of hope, a voice full of longing, a voice full of denial.

Emily turned to see if her daughter had decided to come see who was at the door and caught the image of the girl nodding in her peripheral vision.

With a sob, Olivia belied her age and rushed forward to kneel and hug the girl.  “How?  How?”  Her voice trembled.  “They told me you were dead.”

“I was,” the girl said, tears streaming from her own eyes.  “I got better.”


XxX


What had happened?  He still wasn’t sure what had happened.

There had been a rushing sensation, like he was hurtling through space and time.  Then . . . then there was nothing, no sound, no sight.  There weren’t even any feelings.

He was alone in the nothing.

Alone with his thoughts.

How he did not go crazy, he didn’t know.

All he could do was wait.

So, he waited.

Slowly, over time, he became aware of the warmth.  Yes, that’s what it was, warmth.

So, he waited in his warmth.

Time passed and he found his thumb.

He sat in the warmth, sucked his thumb, and waited.

Yet more time passed; he grew bored, so he kicked.  He had legs.  His kicks met with resistance, though he could neither see nor comprehend what that resistance might be.

So, he sat in his warmth, sucked his thumb, and occasionally kicked as he waited.  Was that music?

Then came the great trauma, trauma unlike any he could recall.  There was a lot of squeezing involved, and he lost his warmth.

Perturbed by the loss, he screamed.  He heard himself scream.  It didn’t sound like what he remembered of his voice.

Light had returned as well, if not full sight.  He saw towering blobs and heard voices.  He heard words.

He tried to call to the voices, to let them know he was there, but only more screams came out.

He heard a voice say, “Congratulations, it’s a boy.”

There was movement, and his lost warmth was replaced by another.

“Have you thought of a name?” the same voice asked.

Then he heard her clearly for the first time.  “We had been leaning toward William, but now I can see he’s more of a Nicholas.”

Yes!  Yes, that’s right!  Nicholas was his name!

The folds of sleep began to engulf him.  They didn’t matter.  He had possibilities.  Possibilities he’d face with his head firmly attached.


XxX


“You can’t honestly expect us to believe that this girl is my long-dead aunt.”  Emily’s daughter had awakened to find her family and a pair of strangers in the living room having what, at first, appeared to be a serious conversation.

“If I were in your position, I wouldn’t believe it either,” the small man claiming to be a professor agreed.  “This situation has never happened before, and we are in new territory.”

“And yet, you still decided to turn up at our doorstep with these outlandish claims.”

“How could we not notify her family about her resurrection?”  Flitwick shrugged his shoulders.  “It would be rather callous to send this kind of news by owl.”

“By owl?!”  Emily’s daughter’s voice rose a few octaves.  “You're one of those crazies going on about how magic is real.  I suppose you’ll be telling my daughter she’ll be going to magic school just like Gran does.”

“Oh?” Flitwick gave the woman a questioning look.  “Has she been displaying accidental magic?”

“Don’t you start with that too!”

Flitwick looked at the woman then shifted his gaze to the couch where the girl was getting acquainted with Olivia and Amy.  He produced a wand and swished it skillfully, and suddenly, a clear ball appeared in the air in front of the wand.

Emily’s daughter sat back in alarm at the unforeseen arrival and failed to say anything as the man waved his wand to send the ball floating over to her daughter.

Amy saw the ball and cooed excitedly as she reached out and grabbed it.  At her touch, the ball turned a deep blue and started glowing softly.

With a satisfied grin, Flitwick turned back to the woman and said, “Yes, I do believe she will be receiving a Hogwarts letter when she turns eleven, Miss.  I’m sorry, I don’t seem to have gotten your name.”

“Myrtle,” Emily’s daughter said as she watched her child play with the conjured sphere.  “My name is Myrtle.”

Well, that was awkward.


XxX


The cavern was large and well-lit.  The trappings of wealth were on display for all to see, denoting the importance of those in the chamber.  Around a stone table, a number of goblins sat and contemplated the report just read to them by one of their number.

“How many are no longer in our control?” one asked.

“Seven were sold, even though they were only placed up for sale recently.  Had we known, they would not have been offered for general sale.”

“Also, the original owners have ten more in their primary vault,” another goblin hastily interjected.

“That leaves us with just five.”

“See if you can repurchase the ones already sold,” the first goblin commanded.  “Persuade the original owners to sell us their remaining hoard.”

“They have set another as their contact.”

“Persuade him or her.”

“What if they have more that we aren’t aware of?”

“There can’t be too many like this; we would have heard of them before.”

“I want every one of them under goblin control.”

“It could start another war.”

“That it could.”


XxX


She sat on her throne and read the paperwork floating before her.

“Everything seems to be in order,” she said, levitating the bundle of paper to her aide.  “Please see to it that I’m listed as one of her references, and let the committee know that a speedy resolution would be appreciated."

The aide bowed as he retreated from the room to carry out the request.  Normally, adoptions took years to complete, even for the most influential of ponies.  The ponies on the acceptance committee were notorious about dragging their hooves; they seemed to think that a slow process benefited both the anxious prospective parents and the impatient children they would be trying to adopt.

However, when a princess asks to be one of the references, it was the same as saying, "Sign here and don’t ask questions.”  Though the princess would never have used those words, the effect was the same.

The aide smirked happily as he went to light a fire under some very bureaucratic ponies.


XxX


The Altar to Morning failed to bring its normal comfort as Emma took the carafe from its place of honor and poured herself a cup of coffee.  She sighed as she reread the letter for the umpteenth time.  Her daughter had had her memory altered, willingly, if the letter she had received was anything to go by.  Hermione had said that she remembered being happy to receive the mind wipe, she had remembered going to get it, but she didn’t remember what it was that had been removed.  If Emma had not also received a letter from the school nurse explaining what had been removed, she would have stormed the castle demanding the return of her daughter.

The casualness they talked about removing her daughter’s memories with was disturbing.  The fact that her daughter was part of a group that brought a ghost back to life was even more so.  She hadn’t been at the school a week, and she had already been taught how to raise the dead.  What was next?  Zombies?  Vampires?

She would have to write the school; a request for her daughter to be excluded from any rites pertaining to the undead was in order.  Shamefully, in none of the information packets was the art of necromancy ever mentioned.  It wasn’t even hinted at.

On the other hand, her daughter seemed to be making friends.  That almost made up for the whole fooling around with the deceased kick she seemed to be on.  Hermione had never made friends easily; to hear that she had several and that one had both a phoenix and a unicorn was music to Emma’s ears.  Emma was more than willing to let her daughter get into trouble if she was making friends in the process.  Hermione had always been too attached to rules and following orders.  While nice from a parenting prospective, this could lead to a harsh awaking once she realized that those in power did not always deserve that power.

Sighing, Emma put down the letters and went to make sure her husband was getting ready for work.  Dan had been known to fall back asleep after being awakened the first time.


XxX


The scent of tallow from the lone candle burning in her tidy study did nothing to ease her sour mood.

She was ruined.

With that mudblood’s lack of rightful respect, she had been ruined.

Ten percent of her total worth was bad enough, but with Fudge out of office, she was as good as out of a job.

With Fudge being dismissed in the manner he had been, it was very likely she could not expect to be moved to a position as cushy or influential as the one she currently held.

It was all that mudblood’s fault.

Generations of righteous governing by purebloods had been upset in a day by that selfish bitch.  Now, the Wizengamot had seated members of the worst kind of lineage.  It would be the ruination of wizarding kind.

It was all that mudblood’s fault.

All those poor children who had lost a parent yesterday could lay the blame at the feet of one woman, a woman who could not see her rightful place.

It was all that mudblood’s fault.

And the money!  The tramp had robbed ancient families of their entire worth, distributing her ill-gotten gains amongst the so-called victims of nonexistent crimes.

It was all that mudblood’s fault.

Didn’t she realize that everything that had been done had been in the best interest of Magical Britain?  Did she really think that her group of magic-stealing mutts would be allowed to casually waltz in and take over?  Didn’t she realize she had a fight on her hands?

It was all that mudblood’s fault.

Sneering, she took up a parchment and started writing down a list of like-minded individuals she would need to contact.  The reins would not be surrendered so easily; the tramp would pay!

Under the undue pressure being forced upon it, the quill in her hand snapped in half.

It was all that mudblood’s fault!
> Chapter 20: Wooden Troubles
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The living room was in shambles.  Cushions and knickknacks were  scattered everywhere as four ponies and a baby dragon hunted diligently  for their prey.

“It’s not here,” Applejack said as she dropped the  blanket she had been looking under.  “Ah think Sweetie Belle forgot to  send it.”

“I have confidence that she wouldn’t forget something so important,” Rarity said as she levitated a couch to check under it.

“Ah just got vomited up by a piece a luggage,” Applejack countered.  “Mah, confidence is pretty much kaput for the day.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash agreed.  “Those puking noises were so not cool.”

“Come now.”  Rarity put the couch back on the floor.  “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Ah just got vomited up by a piece a luggage.” Applejack repeated slowly, emphasizing each word.

“Me,”  Spike said from where he was picking up knickknacks to replace, “I want  to know what exactly you're supposed to feed pet chests, besides  ponies, that is.  And are you sure it was a good idea to leave it on the  front lawn with just Pinkie guarding it?”

“It can stay outside  until we find those instructions,” Rarity insisted.  “The last thing I  need is for it to decide that my dresses are lunch.”

“Besides,  Spike,” Twilight said, levitating the cushions back onto the couch,  “with Pinkie guarding it, what could possibly go wrong?”

Everypony and dragon stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Twilight.

“Did she just?” Applejack started to asked.

Without warning, Pinkie’s voice shouted from the front, “Rarity!  Your trunk just ate the mailmare!”

“She did,” Rarity confirmed.

“Twilight,”  Rainbow Dash said, waving a hoof at the mare, “you know we all pretty  much agree that you’re the smartest of us all.  Please stop trying to  prove everypony wrong.”

“Rainbow,” Twilight snapped as she stamped  a forehoof indignantly, “you can’t possibly believe that was anything  but a coincidence.  Just because I say something like ‘It can’t get any  worse’ doesn’t mean . . .”

“There goes the mayor!” came Pinkie’s shout

Rainbow Dash raised a questioning eyebrow but refrained from saying anything.

“What else could go wrong?” Twilight deliberately said, to prove a point.

“It just got Lyra!” Pinkie shouted.

“The worst is past.”  Twilight tried again.

“Aaaand!  Bonbon’s next!” Pinkie continued.

“This is as bad as it can possibly get?”  Twilight’s voice had started to contain a questioning note.

“Octavia just volunteered to be an appetizer!”  Pinkie's shout drifted into the room.

Twilight’s tail and ears drooped, and she said, “I’ll be shutting up now.”

“That  might be a good idea,” Applejack said, coming up to Twilight to give  her a one-forehoof hug.  “That thar box has just about enough to make  its own hoofball team.”

XxX

It had been a very long time  since Dumbledore had spent the night in his office at the Ministry.  If  truth were to be told, it had been a little over a year since he had  last stepped foot in the small collection of rooms.  Even though the  duties of Chief Warlock entitled him to the amenities, he rarely  indulged.  His office at Hogwarts was bigger and much more inviting.   However, these rooms were available when he needed them, and they  included a small bedroom and a washroom -- nothing spectacular, but more  than adequate to accommodate a late night of work.

He had spent  the previous evening trying to moderate the ambitions of the  newly-seated lawmakers.  They had several ideas in mind that would alter  the landscape of the political community.  The most striking of these  was a requirement of a magical oath for all ministry employees to refuse  bribes.  That, and the abolishment of the preferential treatment for  purebloods in the hiring process would both be opposed soundly by the  conservative faction, a faction that no longer had the numbers to stop  the coming overhaul.

Dumbledore firmly felt that changes would be  coming much too quickly.  He was going to have to muster his supporters  to throttle back on the alterations that had been proposed.  Otherwise,  the Ministry of tomorrow would look nothing like the Ministry of today.   Yes, changes were needed in the current system, but if they came too quickly, chaos would soon follow.  Stability would be lost, and  traditions discarded.  The sturdy foundations of society would become  like jello.

After waking early, Dumbledore quickly ran through his  morning routine.  He needed to visit the records department before the  Wizengamot was to convene later that morning.  The rumors of Miss Belle  having a marriage contract with Mr. Potter required investigation.  The  potential disaster that would cause had to be neutralized.

With a  grandfatherly smile, Dumbledore greeted the young wizard manning the  information counter.  “Ah, Mr. Tilley, just the person I wanted to see.”

Mr.  Tilley returned a nervous smile and said, “Good morning, Professor  Dumbledore.  How may I help the Chief Warlock this morning?”

“There  have been some troubling rumors, and I fear I must check on the welfare  of a couple of my students.”  Dumbledore stepped up to the counter.  “I  wish to see any recent paperwork pertaining to a marriage contract  between Harry Potter and Sweetie Belle.”

Sighing, Mr. Tilley said, “I was afraid you were going to ask that.  You’re going to have to talk to Judge Brown for that.”

“There’s  no need for that.”  Dumbledore smiled encouragingly.  “I’m the Chief  Warlock; checking contracts is well within my rights.”

Giving  Dumbledore an apologetic look, Mr. Tilley said, “To quote the judge,  ‘When he tries to pull rank tell Albus Dumbledore that he is to see me  on the subject and that is the end of the matter.’  End quote.  So, you  see, I cannot get that paperwork for you.”

“That is most  distressing.”  Dumbledore ran his hand through his beard thoughtfully.   “Did she mention why she felt such measures were necessary?”

“She  only said that your attempting to see the contract was both a conflict  of interest and an abuse of power,” Mr. Tilley said, looking away from  Dumbledore.  “So, as far as I’m concerned, you never showed up today.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, before angrily leaving the room.

XxX

The  group gave up on their inspection of Rarity’s living room and converged  on Pinkie Pie, who was sitting ten feet from the trunk, watching it  intensely.

“Pinkie!” Applejack said, walking up to the pink mare.  “Y’all were supposed to be guarding that thar chest.”

Smiling,  Pinkie gestured to the trunk and said, “I was.  As you can see, nopony  took it.  It’s still right over there.  You can consider that chest  successfully guarded.  Though, if you’d asked me, I’d say it was  perfectly capable of guarding itself.”

“Didn’t you think It might  be a good idea to stop ponies from going over there and examining it?”  Rarity asked as she and Twilight cautiously approached the chest.

“Nah,”  Pinkie said, shaking her head.  “Your letter said that it was just a  harmless defense mechanism, and it’s actually pretty hilarious watching  other ponies meet your trunk.  It’s like the best prank ever!”

“Yeah,  but the letter also said that we can only make it puke up ponies once  before binding it to Rarity.”  Rainbow Dash landed next to Pinkie  keeping a wary eye on the subject of interest.  “Since Rarity refuses to  bind it until we find the instruction book, how are we supposed to get  them out now?”

“Besides, weren’t you the one who told me not to  use the word 'harmless' in conjunction with the Crusaders?” Twilight  asked as she reached out a hoof to open the chest, causing Rarity to  leap back in alarm.  A few seconds later the trunk settled back into its original position.”

“Now why do you reckon she went and did that  for?” Applejack asked just before there was a flash of light common to  teleportation.  Once the stars had cleared from her vision, Applejack  saw Twilight standing next to a frazzled looking Mare Mayor and Bonbon.   “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said trotting back up to the chest,  “that’s more than a little creepy.”  Once again, she reached to open the  lid.

XxX

A row of brooms lay on the ground when the  first-years came outside for their broom flying lesson after breakfast.   Scootaloo had bounced the entire way, chanting, “It’s time to fly!   It’s time to fly!”

“Calm down, Scoots.” Dean said, watching the girl’s antics.  “You’ll be in the air soon enough.”

“I can’t wait!  I can’t wait!  I can’t wait!” she insisted and ran over to scoop up a broom.

“Hold on there, girl!” Madam Hooch commanded.  “Just stand next to your broom until the whole class is here and ready.”

“Aww!” Scootaloo whined as she stared down at the tantalizing broom waiting for her to ride.

Sweetie  Belle took position next to a broom on the end and then glanced back at  Magah, who had stopped to graze.  The mare was obviously still keeping  an eye on her even as she cropped up the grass.

“I’m a little  nervous about this,” Hermione admitted to the rest of the group as she  eyed the broom at her feet.  “These things seem too flimsy to support  our weight.”

“Gran’s never let me ride a broom before,” Neville said, nervously, also eyeing his broom.

“Relax,” Ron said cheerfully.  “It’s really not that hard to learn.”

“Speak for yarself,” Apple Bloom said, taking her place.  “These critters are right temperamental.”

“Well,  what are you waiting for?” Madam Hooch said, seeing that all the  Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were present.  “Stand next to your broom,  hold out your hand and say ‘up’."

Filled with excitement at the  prospect of learning to fly, Harry promptly stuck his hand and gave the  proper command.  He heard several other students do the same as his  broom suddenly shot sideways, undercutting his legs, upending him.  As  he landed on his back he heard **thwack**  "ow.”  **thwack**  “Ow.”   **thwack**  “Ow!”

Still dazed, Harry looked over and saw that  Scootaloo was covered by every broomstick that had been in the yard, a  look of astonishment plastered on her face.”

XxX

The Wizengamot chamber was packed to capacity.  It may have even grown a bit to accommodate the entire crowd.

At  the main podium, Albus Dumbledore once more stood, ready to commence  the proceedings.  “Good Morning.” he said and the room grew quiet in  anticipation, “as Chief Warlock, I hereby call this assembly of the  Wizengamot to order.  We are gathered here today to complete the agenda  that was scheduled for yesterday.  Also on the docket is a trial for  former Minister Fudge.”  He paused to let his words sink in.  “But  first, as it is customary, the floor is open to anyone wishing to  present new business.”

A member of the Wizengamot promptly found her feet and coolly said, “I have new business to be brought before the Wizengamot.”

Absolute  silence met the declaration as even the crickets missed their cue;  every eye in the assembly landed on Alice.  Though none gave them voice,  the words “oh bloody hell.” rippled through the mass of witches and  wizards.

“Yes, Miss Rutter, you now have the floor.”  Dumbledore allowed with a note of caution in his voice.

“As  steward of the last two free individuals with claims to the House, I  hereby claim the right to speak for House Black,” she said with an  aggressive inflection.

“Have you not amassed enough wealth?!” a  member from the remaining pureblood faction snapped.  “Are you to now  claim the holdings of Black as well?!”

Alice ignored him and said,  “I hereby demand the immediate release of Sirius Black who has been  held without a trial for nearly a decade.  Furthermore, I lay claim to  the prescribed penalties from the Ministry for denying a member of House  Black his right to a speedy trial.”

Dumbledore joined the  entirety of the assembly in staring at the woman in bewilderment.  “I  was under the impression you wanted to punish those who followed the  dark lord.  Why, then, are you trying to release his right-hand man?” he  finally asked.

“Sirius Black is not now and never was a follower  of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”  Alice insisted, “He is a political  prisoner who has been denied a trial while imprisoned on a fiction.”

“What proof do you have of this allegation?” Amelia Bones stood up from her seat, demanding the attention of all present.

“I  require no proof.” Alice countered, “You need to either produce the  trial records or produce Sirius Black, and you need to do it now.”

“You  misunderstand the reason behind my question.  I attempted to locate  those trial transcripts just last night and could not find any.”  Amelia  raised a placating hand.  “My concern is that where there is one  innocent prisoner, there may be more.”

“Miss Rutter, these are some very serious allegations,” Dumbledore interrupted.

“Yes,  they are,” Alice agreed crossing her arms.  “So, if you would now, call  a recess and order the retrieval of the victim; the clock began ticking  as soon as I demanded his release.  Any delay and or his death will  increase the penalties drastically.  Also, you should know that I am  well aware that the penalties can be applied to the individuals  responsible for the miscarriage of justice, before being taken from the  public coffers.  We have some rather strict laws on abuse of power, if  one knows to look for them.”

“You do realize we just convened?” Dumbledore asked.

“You do realize an innocent man is still being held in Azkaban?”

“That  remains to be seen.”  Dumbledore struck his gavel on the podium.   “This assembly shall stand in recess until the prisoner is retrieved.   I do hope you are not wasting our time, Miss Rutter.”

“Even if he were guilty, it would be no waste of time making sure he received his trial.” she returned, refusing his rebuke.

XxX

“Maybe  you should just bind it to yourself like the letter says,” Applejack  suggested as she stood in the library, watching Twilight finish up the  letter and attach it to Philomena’s leg.

“Now, darling, I’m sure  Sweetie Belle will be able to get me another copy of those instructions  before it comes to that,” Rarity said

“Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of your own luggage,” Rainbow Dash scoffed.

“It’s  a pony-eating chest.”  Rarity huffed with indignation.  “It’s only  prudent that I get all the pertinent information available before I  approach it.”

“Yeah, I can’t blame you for that," Pinkie Pie agreed.

Everypony in the room instantly pivoted to look at her.  “Pinkie!” Applejack yelped.  “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Pinkie said with a wide grin.  “I was getting bored.”

“Um,” Rainbow Dash asked, “then who’s watching the trunk?”

“Rrrrelax,” Pinkie practically purred.  “I left a sign.”

XxX

“Okay, class,” Madam Hooch said, “with the exception of Miss Aloo, let’s try that again.”

Harry  stuck his hand out once again and was rewarded by his broom instantly  heeding his command, smacking solidly into his palm.  He was rather too  distracted to feel elated though.  He was too busy watching Apple  Bloom’s broom flee the girl.

“Did that broom just yipe?” Susan Bones of the Hufflepuffs asked.

XxX

While  flying over the town, Blue Blaze had spotted something unusual in the  front yard of the Carousel Boutique.  Giving in to curiosity, he landed  to investigate.  There on the front lawn was an elaborately decorated  trunk, and next to it was a sign post with a very puzzling message.

Scratching his head with a forehoof, the azure-colored pegasus read out loud, “Beware! Pony-Eating Trunk!”

Laughing  to himself, Blue Blaze recognized Pinkie Pie’s mouthwriting from all  the banners she’d made.  “She probably has some kind of surprise set  up,” he said as he trotted forward for a closer look.

XxX

“I  thought you said you’d taken flying lessons at Ginny’s house over the  summer,” Parvati gasped as she and the other Gryffindors helped Apple  Bloom’s attempts to corral the rogue broom.

“Ah did,” Apple Bloom  said, shifting to the right to cut off the broom’s retreat, “but we  started with the brooms firmly in our grips -- none of this ‘UP’  business.”

“That’s a good idea,” Scootaloo said and held out her hand toward the fleeing broom.  “Come here!”


The Hufflepuffs gasped as their brooms once again tore themselves away to answer the call of their god.

**Thwack!** **Thwack!** **Thwack** **Thwack!**

“How  could she not have seen that coming?” Hermione asked as she and her  friends moved to help Scootaloo out from under the pile of all of the  training brooms.

XxX

Soon after she had issued the  orders to ‘gently’ retrieve Sirius Black, Amelia Bones sought out a  certain new member of the Wizengamot.  She found her target conversing  with some of the other new members of said body.

Finding herself in no mood for niceties, Amelia said, “Miss Rutter, a moment of your time please.”

The conversation stopped, and the newest members of the Wizengamot focused their attention on the head of the DMLE.

“Is something the matter?” Alice asked as worry crossed her face; this type of one on one conversation wasn’t in her game plan.

“I need to speak to you privately,” Amelia said gesturing toward a doorway.  “Please follow me to a private conference room.”

“I don’t think . . .” the younger woman started.

“Now,  Miss Rutter.” Amelia said, and headed toward the doorway.  She sensed  that Alice had indeed followed and Amelia grinned at the thought that  the new faction leader had yet to completely shed her instinct to follow  a perceived authority figure.

In short order, they were in a  small room with just two uncomfortable chairs and a barren table.   Amelia cast some privacy charms before motioning Alice into one of the  seats.

Gone was the confident woman who had started down the  entire Wizengamot assembly.  In her place was a nervous woman who wasn’t  quite sure of her current standing.  While she had obviously known the  laws to invoke to achieve her aims, she didn’t appear to understand the  power and protections she could invoke in her current situation.

Amelia let Alice stew for a good half minute before saying, “Where are you getting your information?  Who is feeding it to you?”

“Pardon?” Alice asked, the question catching her off guard.

“I want to know, whose puppet you are,” Amelia clarified, never taking her eyes of the fidgeting woman.

“I’m no one’s puppet,” Alice objected.

“Bull!   Your showing up out of nowhere with knowledge of old laws could be  explained away by you finding a law book and studying.”  Amelia narrowed  her eyes and leaned forward.  “However, the detailed intel you had on  the crimes of seated members of our government far exceed the resources  you possessed.  Make no mistake, it is obvious you had help.  My concern  is what on the surface may appear as nothing more than a much-needed  cleansing of the corruption inherent in our system may have sinister  undertones.  Like it or not, you destabilized our government yesterday.   Today you are well on your way to undermine public confidence in what  remains of that government.  So, once again, who is helping you?”

Amelia watched the woman gather her courage to lie, “I’m doing this for Justice.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Amelia snarled.

“You  just admitted our system is corrupt,” Alice countered, rediscovering  the fortitude that had aided her in the Wizengamot chambers.  “I don’t  have to sit here and take this abuse.”

“Ladies!  There’s no reason  for you to be at odds.  You two are basically after the same things,” a  third occupant of the room said from his comfortable-looking chair  situated a few feet from the table.

‘Mr. Discord,” Amelia said, addressing the newcomer, “you are not unexpected.  Thank you for joining us.”

“Well now, I couldn’t just let you two antagonize each -- OOOF!” Discord said.

“Hello Discord, it’s good to see you,” Alice said from her new seat.

“Aaaa,” Discord smartly answered.

“I see that you’re happy to see me too.”  Alice smiled brightly at him from mere inches away.

“Well,  I see you two are getting along now, gotta go bye,” Discord said as he  disappeared with a snap of his fingers and a flash of light, leaving  Alice to land on his vacated, comfy chair.

After a short pause, Amelia said, “You certainly are direct.”

Alice shrugged and replied, “I don’t do subtle.”

XxX

After scouting ahead, Rainbow Dash landed next to her friends, who were making their way back from the library.

“Well?” Rarity asked, never stopping her forward movement.

“Pinkie  would have gotten fewer hits if her sign had read, ‘Do not push big red  button!’” Rainbow said, falling into formation.  “But, on the bright  side, she was right; it is hilarious.”

XxX

Susan Bones  watched as Hermione and Apple Bloom flew by.  Hermione had a look of  terror plastered on her face while Apple Bloom wore one of resignation.   Somehow, they had both ended up on the same broom, facing backwards.

“Come back here girls!” Madam Hooch admonished as she scurried after her two wayward students.

“I’m glad I got sorted into Hufflepuff,” Susan stated.

Her  friend, Hanna, nodded her head in agreement as the two watched the  flying Gryffindors.  Scootaloo zipped by, intent on cutting off the  wayward broom while Harry, Ron, Sweetie Belle and Ginny fanned out,  blocking off its retreat.  The unicorn tracking Sweetie Belle from the  ground only added to the spectacle.

XxX

Berry Punch  walked down the street with her accustomed bottle in hoof.  She happened  to look over and saw an unattended trunk sitting next to a Pinkie  Pie-style sign.

After reading the sign she said, “Not happening,” and kept walking.

XxX

“That’s  the last of them,” Twilight said as she appeared with Snips and Snails.   “Now let’s go check the rest of Rarity’s.  I know Sweetie should be  getting another copy of the instructions, but we don’t know how long  she’ll take.  At this point, the originals may have appeared anywhere in  the Carousel Boutique.”

“Are we just leaving it outside again?” Applejack asked pointing at the trunk.

“By now, most of the town already knows about it, and we’ll leave a guard,” Twilight said.

“I’m on it.”  Pinkie saluted sharply with a hoof.

“I think it’s Rainbow’s turn to play guard,” Rarity suggested.  “You’ve already had two turns.”

XxX

“All  right, everyone.  Mount your brooms.  I’ll be coming by to check your  grips and stances,” Madam Hooch said; her students had once again formed  into lines to continue with their class.

Before she had checked  three students, a flash of flames briefly appeared above the class, and a  bird of fire drifted down to settle on the shoulder of one waiting to  be inspected.

“Hello, Philomena,” Sweetie chirped.  “I see you brought me a letter.”

“No reading mail during class,” Madam Hooch said as she continued to inspect her students.  “It can wait until afterwards.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Sweetie said and stuffed the letter into her shoulder bag.

Philomena  gave a questioning trill, then shook her head.  After seeing that the  letter would not be immediately read, she flew over to settle on the  back of Magah, who had gone back to grazing.

Once she completed  her inspection, Madam Hooch retook her position in front of the class  and said, “Okay, on the count of three your all going to lightly kick  off and rise a few feet then come back down.  I’m afraid our time is  almost up, but I am going to extend this session into the second period  for those with a free period.  Don’t worry, for those of you headed to  Herbology, I’ll be available after supper as well.  All right now.  One .  . . Two . . . Three . . .”

The event-filled class had left Madam  Hooch hyper-aware and edgy.  It came as no surprise that she quickly  cast a cushioning spell on Neville, who had kicked off too hard and then  lost control. “That’s more than a few feet!” she yelled up at  Scootaloo, who was soaring like a homesick angel.

XxX

He  heard them coming.  That was strange; they did not normally come at  this time of day.  Groaning, he shifted and sat up on his meager  pallet.  Before long, the door to his cell opened, and a trio of aurors  entered, training their wands on him.

‘Get up Black,” one of them  said, not unkindly.  “There’s a witch who’s been wreaking havoc on the  former Death Eaters, and she says you’re not one of them.  You’ve got an  appointment with the Wizengamot.”

“The Wizengamot?” Sirius said,  unsuccessfully trying to gain his feet.  “Am I finally getting a trial?”   He would later deny that a sob escaped his throat.

The lead  auror, ignoring protocol, put his wand away and stepped forward to help  the weakened man.  Ashamed that he had been part of the travesty of  justice that had imprisoned a man without due process, he said, “Yes,  Black, you’re getting your trial.”

XxX

Amelia sat in her  office and contemplated the current crisis.  Whether the intentions of  Mr. Discord were benevolent or not didn’t matter.  Magical Britain's  government was in the process of being subjugated by a foreign entity.   Already, they had a foothold in the Wizengamot.  Miss Rutter had  admitted to being beholden to Discord, and, in turn, she had a group of  followers beholden to her.  The political power already surrendered was  not insignificant.

Then, there was the Minister’s office.   Currently vacant, it would likely go to someone leaning toward the  policies Discord seemed to be espousing.

That basically left the Chief Warlock.  Amelia very much doubted Dumbledore would be holding that office for much longer.

Individually,  these changes were a nuisance, at best.  Taken as a whole, it was  chillingly obvious that Equestria had decided to unseat the current, corrupt administration, leaving the British magical government open for  whatever plans they may have, and there was very little Amelia could do  about it.

XxX

They had just finished going through the  showroom of Rarity’s shop when Twilight called for a halt and demanded  everypony’s attention.

“I just want to take a short pause,” she said, “and disprove this silly superstition that’s been plaguing us all day.”

Her friends all looked at her curiously, wondering where she was going.

“Since  we’ve taken all the necessary precautions and the hectic pace has  slowed down, I’d just like to say one thing.”  She paused for effect and  dramatically continued. “Things couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

Pinkie gasped loudly, Applejack dropped to the floor covering face with her hat, and Rarity did a ladylike facehoof.

“See, nothing happ . . .” Twilight started to say triumphantly, but stopped when Rainbow Dash nailed her cue and ran in.

“Guys!  Guys!” Rainbow clamored, but stopped when she saw her friends’ current  states.  Looking at Twilight she asked, “You didn’t just?”

“She did.” Rarity interrupted, hoof still on her face.

“Anyway, your chest.” Rainbow said still looking at Twilight.

“George,” Rarity stated.

“What?”  Rainbow stopped her report yet again.

“It’s my pony-eating chest.  He needs a name.  So, I’m deciding on George,” Rarity informed everypony.

“Yeah, well,” Rainbow said, “I think you ought to know that George just tried to eat Princess Celestia.”
> Chapter 21: Obstructions, Observations, and Obligations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“But I want to keep flying.”  Scootaloo pouted as the girls made  their way over to the greenhouses.  “I barely got any air time.”

“You’ll  just have to wait,” Parvati said.  “We’ve already missed Herbology  once; missing it a second time is a sure way to get detention.”

“I guess,” Scootaloo relented, “but the sooner we’re allowed to fly on school grounds, the better.”

“I’m  sure Hermione would disagree,” Lavender said.  “I still can’t believe  she wanted to come with us to Herbology instead of staying and flying.”

“She’s obviously afraid of heights,” Sweetie Belle said.  “We’re going to have to help her with that.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Parvati asked.

Apple  Bloom shrugged.  “Just drop her off a cloud a few dozen times.  Believe  it or not, screaming in terror gets boring afta awhile.”

“I hope  you're joking,” Lavender said, giving Apple Bloom the eye.  “No, you’re  not joking.  You do realize that’s only going to make her fear worse.”

“It’s  how mah sister had me cured.”  Apple Bloom shrugged.  “As cruel as it  may sound, it actually works wonders.  Besides, they never do stuff like  that without at least seven catchers paying attention.”

“Yeah,”  Parvati said with a shake of her head, “we’ll just table that suggestion  for a later date.  Right now, we need to figure out how to keep Magah  from following us into the greenhouse.”

“That’ll be easy,” Scootaloo said.  “See that open window there?  It’s big enough for Sweetie and way too small for Magah.”

“Good  idea, Scoots,” Sweetie Belle agreed.  “Now go inside and check  underneath the window to make sure there’s not a vat of tree sap or  something similar waiting for me.”



The morning  news had been disastrous.  His master’s servants had been routed from  the Wizengamot en masse.  Most of those not holding a seat were now  fugitives and had their assets frozen.  What had once been a readymade  support base was now in shambles.  Worse, the replacement government  looked like it might have some backbone.  If they chose a competent new  Minister, the difficulty factor could be increased exponentially.

But,  none of that mattered until the master had a new body.  Therein lay the  favorable news hidden in the assorted bad tidings.  One of the students  had managed to resurrect a ghost.  What had formerly been an impossible  feat was now a wellspring of opportunity.  The stone was no longer  necessary; an easier method had presented itself.  Though no names had  been mentioned, it was easy to deduce the responsible party.  She had  two symbols of rebirth and healing at her beck and call.  Only a fool  wouldn’t realize that the unprecedented act of raising the dead could  fall only at her feet.  Luckily, he had his first class with her later  today.  It shouldn’t be too hard to trick the child into doing what he  wanted, right under the nose of Dumbledore himself.

Quirrell  grinned as he made plans.  It was his free period, and he sat in his  office, rereading out loud the events depicted in the "Daily Prophet".   He had just gotten to the list of charges against the former Minister  when he realized he wasn’t the only person in the room.  Looking up, he  saw a man in a dapper brown suit frowning down at him.

Jumping  back and out of his seat in alarm, Quirrell stammered at the intruder,  “W-w-where did y-y-you come from?  How, d-d-d-did you get in  h-h-h-here.”

The man’s eyes flashed yellow, and he said, “These children are under my protection.  Leave now and never return.”

“I-I-I’m a p-p-p-profess-s-s-ser here.”  Quirrell objected, “I p-p-pose the children no h-h-h-harm.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the man growled contemptuously.

“W-w-w-whatever  are you t-t-t-talking about?” Quirrell brought his wand out; he’d keep  his wandless abilities hidden until the appropriate time.

With a  disdainful snap of his fingers, the man sent Quirrell’s turban tumbling  from his head, despite how tightly it had been wound.

“Enough.”  A voice said from the back of Quirrell’s head followed by a cough, “I will speak with this interloper.”

“Master.”  Quirrell’s voice lost all hints of a stutter.  “You are not yet strong enough.”

“Turn  around so that I may address him properly,” the voice commanded,  gasping for breath at the end of the sentence.  Hurriedly, Quirrell  complied and put his back to the intruder.  On the rear of his bald head  was another face -- a twisted face.  “Who are you, to dare interfere in  things beyond your ken?” it rasped as it cast its gaze upon the man in  the brown suit.

“Could you be anymore cliché?” the man asked,  unimpressed.  “Let’s keep this short.  You are on my list of  pre-existing threats slated for elimination.  Your only path to  salvation lies outside these walls.  One way or another, you won’t be in  this castle tomorrow.”

“You dare threaten me?”  Rage infused the face.  “Do you know who I am?”

“Again,  with the cliché.  This is not a threat; this is a professional  courtesy.”  The man in the brown suit cleared his throat then said  menacingly, “Leave, or I will see that you regret it.”

The face on  the back of Quirrell’s head laughed until it had a coughing fit.  “You  will find that I am not so easily destroyed,” it sneered once it  regained its composure.

“How very droll and unimaginative.”  The  man in the brown suit tsked.  “If you do not heed my final warning, I  promise what lies ahead will make your current existence seem like  paradise.”  With a snap of his fingers, he was gone in a flash of light.



“What the hay, Scootaloo?”  Sweetie Belle groused, “Seriously, what the hay?”

“What?”  Scootaloo said defensively, “I told you there was a bed of flowers under the window, and to be careful.”

“I’m stuck to Ginny,” Parvati complained, trying to get her arm to detach from the redhead’s back.

“At  least it’s not sap,” Apple Bloom said, one leg glued to another at an  uncomfortable angle and Lavender stuck half sitting in her lap.

“This is stickier than sap!” Sweetie Belle snapped from her position on top of Scootaloo, who had her back glued to the floor.

“It’s seeped right through my robes,” Ginny informed everyone as she tried to remove her hands from Sweetie Belle’s shoulders.

The Ravenclaws and a spattering of Slytherins gawked at the Gryffindor girls, freely laughing at the tangled mess.

“Here comes the professor; she’ll help,” Lavender said as she spotted the herbology teacher approaching.

Professor  Sprout arrived and immediately assessed the situation.  “I see you  girls have become acquainted with the spitting tulips,” she said.



She  was the largest mare in all of Equestria.  Her pure white coat was  accented by a multicolored mane and tail, both of which shimmered  unnaturally as they fluttered in the nonexistent breeze.  “That is  undoubtedly the most aggressive luggage I have ever encountered,” she  said to the ponies standing with her as she surveyed the beautifully  carved chest just ten feet away.  Her gentle smile hid any trepidation  she might have.

“I am so sorry, Princess Celestia; George does  have a bit of an attitude problem,” Rarity admitted from where she was  still trying to calm down the hyperventilating Twilight.

“Where did this remarkable piece of art come from?” Celestia asked, not taking her eyes off the subject of inquiry.

“Sweetie Belle sent it to Rarity as a present!” Pinkie cheerfully informed her.

“She sent a pony-eating chest?” Celestia asked in amazement.

“Well,  the letter did say it could be aggressive until it was bound,”  Applejack said, ready to put herself between George and the princess at  the slightest hint of danger.

“Did binding it not help?” Celestia continued.

“I  was waiting until after I read the instructions before binding him.”   Rarity patted Twilight on her back.  “Breathe, just breathe.  Princess  Celestia isn’t hurt, and she isn’t angry.”

“Where are the instructions?” Celestia asked.

“The letter said they were on the coffee table, but apparently Sweetie Belle forgot to send them,” Rainbow Dash said.

“Perhaps you should bind it now, regardless,” Princess Celestia suggested with a twinkle in her eye.

“Yes,”  Rarity said, “right away.  Rainbow, darling, if you would be so kind  and fetch me the letter from inside.  I need a reminder of the words I  need to say.”

After rereading the letter, Rarity stood before  George and hesitantly placed her horn on the brass plate on his front.   “Sibi Stipitem?” she said.

Nothing happened.

Holding their collective breath, the ponies all watched the chest for movement as the seconds ticked by.

George did his best impression of an inanimate object.

Somewhere, paint continued to dry, giving a more exciting show.

“Tap the fifth square rune and say 'open',” Twilight finally said from where she was holding Sweetie Belle’s letter.

Rarity took careful aim, tapped, and said, “Open.”

The lid popped open and Rarity leapt back, clearing a good twelve feet -- a truly remarkable feat for a sedentary unicorn.

“You are afraid of your luggage,” Pinkie noted in a sing-song voice as she bounced up to look into the chest.

“Pinkie, be careful!” Applejack said from where she was still guarding the princess.

“OOOO . . . stairs!” Pinkie said before disappearing into George.  “These weren’t here before.”

“Pinkie! Wait!” Rainbow said, diving after her friend.

Seconds later, Pinkie’s voice came from inside George.  “There’s a whole house down here!”

“A house?”  Twilight’s head snapped up in realization.  “Is there a living room?”

“Yes!” came Rainbow Dash’s voice.”

“Is there a coffee table in the living room?” Twilight continued.

“Yes!” Pinkie shouted, “and yes to your next question as well!”

“Horsefeathers!”  Applejack said, “Just horsefeathers.”



Myrtle  Smith was having the most bizarre day of her life.  She had used that  phrase before, but nothing that had happened before even came close to  the events currently unfolding before her eyes.  Any doubts that magic  existed were well and truly stamped out of existence.  She could have  remained skeptical, even after the parlor tricks the small professor had  showcased, but the fact that she and her mother were now standing in an  alleyway in downtown London was not to be shaken off so lightly.  The  trip hadn’t been painful, not exactly.  It hadn’t been pleasant either,  rather like being squeezed through a straw.  While that was not even a  remotely accurate description, she could not think of anything closer to  the truth.

Her grandmother had insisted on paying for the  necessities that the younger . . . older . . . other Myrtle would be  needing.  Olivia had produced an ornate key which she claimed went to a  vault she had opened for Myrtle when she first went to school.  Decades  had passed with a small trickle of funds being filtered into said vault  in anticipation of their next magical descendant.  Now, they had two who  would be using it for their schooling.

There was a sharp cracking  noise, and the little professor appeared with Amy and the other Myrtle.   He had been adamant that he would not be bringing Olivia, claiming  that she was too frail, and that the shock could be harmful.

“I  have another question,” Myrtle Smith said to Flitwick as soon as he had  regained his bearings.  “How is it no one took note of our arrival?”

“There’s  a permanent muggle-notice-me-not charm in that portion of the  alleyway,” Flitwick answered as he led them out, into the alley proper.   “It’s not uncommon to bring muggle-born and their parents by this  route.”

After a few minutes, he stopped and said, “Here we are.”

“I do hope you don’t mean for us to go into that dodgy-looking pub,” Myrtle Smith said, eyeing the establishment.

“What pub?” Emily asked, looking up and down the street for the establishment.

“You  can see the Leaky Cauldron without holding the hand of either your  daughter or your aunt?”  Flitwick raised a surprised eyebrow.  “You have  at least squib level magical awareness.”

Frowning, Emily reached out to take Amy’s hand.  Her eyes widened as the pub came into view.



“Well,  it is obvious this place was decorated by a stallion,” Rarity said as  she descended the stairway into an impressive foyer with a decorative  marble floor.  Through a large archway she could see a large sitting  room boasting couches, chairs, and tables all different shades of brown.   “The palate is so drab and dreary.  I’ll lay odds that there’s not a  hint of pink in the entire place.”

“Perhaps,” Princess Celestia  said from right behind Rarity, “but the workponyship on both the  furnishings and the spellwork speak of pride in one’s trade.”

Surprised that she had been followed so closely by royalty, Rarity hurried the rest of the way down the steps and turned.

It was Pinkie who voiced Rarity’s unvoiced thoughts, “Princess Celestia, you shrunk.”

Celestia tittered, “The entrance wasn't princess-sized.”

“Well, it’s certainly bigger on the inside,” Rainbow Dash said rejoining the group.  “Wait until you see the bathroom.”

Twilight’s  voice drifted down from the entranceway, “Look at that! They  multilayered the subspace matrix by intertwining the linear inclination  array back on itself using a modified alpha overlay!  That’s pure  genius!  I think it might be more stable than the matrices we use on our  buildings.”

“Did anypony understand any of that?” Applejack asked as she reached the bottom of the steps.

“To me it just sounds like she picked a bunch of impressive sounding words at random,” Rainbow admitted.

“The  spellwork is exceptional,” Princess Celestia repeated.  “It is both  exceedingly clever in some aspects and disturbingly clumsy in others.   It’s like the caster were completely ignorant of some basic magical  principles and worked his way around them.  At the same time, it seems  he may have used some principles we are not currently aware of.  I  cannot overstate the value this trunk represents to the advancement of  ponykind.  Where did Sweetie Belle find it?”

“I am pretty sure she  got it from the local marketplace,” Rarity said.  “I vaguely recall  passing a shop that specialized in luggage.”

Princess Celestia turned her patient gaze onto Rarity and asked, “A local marketplace?”

“Well, local for the dimension the fillies are going to school in,” Rarity admitted.

Pinkie may have said, “Wait!  What?!”

Twilight doubtlessly gasped.

Rainbow probably asked, “Another dimension?”

It was even plausible that Applejack said, “Say what now?”

However,  it couldn’t be absolutely certain that these events happened because  the words, “THEY ARE GOING TO SCHOOL WHERE?!” dominated the reality of  everypony present as the force of the words plastered everypony and  everything in the room that wasn't the princess against the far wall.

Celestia  blushed slightly as everypony stared at her in a dazed stupor.  The  only thing that prevented an awkward silence was the eerie squeak made  by everything against the wall that wasn't anchored sliding to the  floor.  “I apologize,” the princess said.  “I haven’t lost control of my  Royal Canterlot Voice in a very long time.”



The  assembly hall was once again filled to capacity.  Word had gotten out  over the short recess, and more curious onlookers had arrived to  supplement the already record crowd.  It soon became apparent that the  room was expanding to accommodate the excess.  No one present could have  claimed to have known that the room had that capability, but it was a  welcome discovery.

Up at the main podium, Dumbledore once again  brought his gavel into play.  “Ahem,” he said, waiting for the last of  the chattering to die down.  “Welcome once again.  As Chief Warlock, I  hereby reconvene today's assembly.  We shall continue where we left off.   The prisoner, Sirius Black has been retrieved and shall stand trial  momentarily.”

“I object!”  An elderly wizard in the front row stood up to draw the attention of all present.

“Mr. Taylor,” Dumbledore said recognizing the speaker, “we have hardly begun; on what grounds could you possibly object?”

“My  firm has represented the Black House for generations,” Mr. Taylor said,  radiating an aura of confidence.  “As matter of fact, we are still on  retainer.  We are Lord Black’s legal counsel.”

“I was unaware of Sirius obtaining the title of lord,” Dumbledore reprimanded the old lawyer.

“He  was heir apparent, he was never cast out of the family by the house  head, he was never convicted of any crimes.  Ergo, he is Lord Black,”  Mr. Taylor informed the assembly.

“Very well,” Dumbledore conceded, “are you objecting to Miss Rutter’s claim of speaking for House Black?”

“By  no means.”  Mr. Taylor shook his head.  “We are objecting to his being  forced to stand trial immediately after being retrieved from Azkaban.”

“Are  you suggesting that Lord Black needs to wait for his fair trial?” a  member of the Wizengamot asked.  “Wasn’t a decade long enough?”

“By  law, our government may not imprison a citizen for more than three  months without setting a trial date,” Mr. Taylor said.  “By failing to  do that, the Wizengamot has obligated itself to allow Lord Black to be  released on his own recognizance until the date of said trial.   Furthermore, he is guaranteed respite for any time spent in Azkaban  before facing trial.  I do believe the law states one week for every  month spent in that hellhole.  So, if you would be so kind, book us a  date, two and a half years hence.  In the meantime, I will take my  client into custody and see to his recovery.”

“That is outrageous!” another member of the Wizengamot snarled.

“Yes,”  Mr. Taylor agreed.  “This whole situation is outrageous.  Even with  emergency procedures in place, holding a man in Azkaban for a decade  without trial is indefensible.  The Ministry has played fast and loose  with the laws, denying basic rights.  I mean to see that my client  receives his due.”

“What of James Potter and his wife?” the same  Wizengamot member continued.  “Are they to be denied their due as well?   Shall their murderer walk free on a technicality?”

“Their  murderer is dead.”  Mr. Taylor corrected, “At worse, Lord Black was an  accomplice, something that many have already said would have been vastly  out of character for him.  If you drop the assumption of guilt and look  at the situation objectively, you’ll find that the official story does  not make sense.  Why would a man, who just betrayed his closest friend,  proceed to hunt down another of his allies instead of fleeing the  country once he knew his lord was dead?  It is so irrational that he has  been called crazy to have done that.  It makes more sense that he was  hunting down the one who had done the actual betraying.  That would be  completely within his previously displayed character.”

“Are you  accusing a recipient of the Order of Merlin of base betrayal?” a third  member of the Wizengamot asked without accusation in his voice.

“I  do not have enough evidence to make such an accusation at this time,”  Mr. Taylor conceded.  “I am merely pointing out the possibility.  The  administration at the time has already demonstrated a lack of ability in  dispensing justice.  Is it hard to believe that they may have also  erred in dispensing accolades?”

“Regardless,” Matron Longbottom  spoke up without rising from her seat, “I would like some reassurances  before unleashing an accused mass murderer on the public.  Two wrongs do  not make a right, and I do believe we are well past a dozen wrongs at  this point.”

“With all due respect,” Mr. Taylor nodded his head  politely at the old woman, “what you would like is irrelevant; the law  is clear in this regard.  Lord Black is to be released immediately.”

“You are aware that his head of house rights are to be suspended until after any trial?” Dumbledore queried.

“We  are aware that Miss Rutter shall be directing house Black until the  situation is resolved, all charges are dropped, and our client stands  acquitted,” Mr. Taylor acknowledged.

“That is rather presumptuous of you,” yet another member of the Wizengamot stated.

“To  put it bluntly, even if Lord Black had committed the atrocities  purported by these fictions, the Ministry had forfeited all rights to  hold him as a consequence of their flouting of our laws,” Mr. Taylor  said.  “However, let me make this clear; we firmly believe Miss Rutter’s  assertion that he is innocent.”

“Well,” Alice said, watching the exchange, “that didn’t go according to plan.”



“No,  no.” Applejack was saying, “Ah’m certain that none of the letters  mentioned that the school was in another dimension.  That’s the kind of  detail that Ah would never forget.”

“It’s cool,” Rainbow Dash interjected.  “So, the Crusaders are learning magic from interdimensional ponies.”

“Ponies?   Yes, about that,” Rarity said doing a reasonable impression of Rainbow  Dash by placing her hoof behind her head, “there is something else I  should mention.”

“Am Ah going to have to sit down for this?” Applejack asked.

“That  would most likely be prudent,” Rarity confirmed; then after a sideways  glance she continued, “Pinkie, where ever did you find that popcorn?”



“Well,  that’s a first.” Professor Sprout said as she watched her students’  efforts to return some plants to the soil, “I’ve never seen pussy willow  uproot itself just to come over and say ‘hello’, before.  Professor  McGonagall wasn’t exaggerating your affinity towards plants.”

“Why do we have to help?” a Ravenclaw complained.  “It’s all her fault.”

“The practice will do you good,” Professor Sprout replied.  “Besides, it’s a good thing to help your fellow students.”

Apple Bloom added, "Y'all will never understand plants unless you get your hooves dirty."



“Please,”  Twilight begged as she lay on the couch with her head under her  forehooves, “don’t tell Lyra, just don’t tell Lyra.  I’ll never live it  down.”

“Too late,” Rarity said.



“Bleah!!!”

“Scootaloo, please don’t eat my flowers; some of them bite back.”

“These taste awful!”

“Yes, they do.”



“It  is funny you should mention marriage contracts.”  Celestia had claimed  the largest couch as her own.  “It has been my experience that they are  primarily used as a means of controlling helpless stallions.  I make it a  point to personally investigate any reports of ‘binding’ marriage  contracts being submitted for validation, hence the reason for my visit  today.  Can you offer an explanation for the existence of said  document?”

Rarity said, “Discord.”

“I see.”  Celestia nodded  her head knowingly.  “Now that we have established that you have a  rock-solid explanation, perhaps you have a few more details to add?”



“That wasn’t so bad,” Parvati said, exiting the greenhouse.  “It was nowhere as exciting as either Potions or flying lessons.”

“We got glued to the floor,” Sweetie Belle said as she greeted a relieved Magah.

“I stand by my statement,” Parvati insisted.



“Wow!  The legends were right.  She gets hot when she’s mad,” Rainbow Dash observed.

“Yeah,”  Twilight said as she maintained her shield, “Sorry about your new  couch, Rarity . . . and the two adjacent chairs . . . and the rug . . .  and the ceiling beam . . . and your marble floor.”

“Quite all  right, darling,” Rarity said dismissively, not taking her eyes off the  sphere of flames.  “You managed to contain the worst of it.”

“I’m glad my name’s not Dursley,” Pinkie noted.



“The next item shall be the trial of former Minister Fudge,” Dumbledore stated.

Immediately, twelve different individuals found their feet, wishing to be heard.

“Yes, Mrs. Furweather?” Dumbledore said, picking one at random.

“If  it pleases the assembly,” Mrs. Furweather said, “the charges against  the former Minister do not go far enough.  The consequences of his actions,  motivated by greed, have led to much loss among the general public and  not a few deaths as well.  I move that his trial be delayed a month to  allow for a thorough investigation into his crimes.  His deliberate  abuse of power must be countered by levying all applicable charges  against him.”

“Mrs. Furweather,” a pureblood faction member said,  “the law has protections for government officials when their decisions  prove to be flawed.  It would hardly be productive if the Minister had  to worry about jail time over every hard decision he had to make.”

“True,  but those protections apply only to actions taken in good faith.  Since  when is our government supposed to be the best money can buy?” a new  Wizengamot member, appointed by Alice, countered.

After finding  that the remaining eleven had similar requests, a vote was taken, and  Fudge was granted a one-month reprieve from Azkaban.





The  Gryffindor first-years sat in the Great Hall to partake of lunch.   Sweetie Belle generously ladled beef stew into a bowl before retrieving  her newest letter from her shoulder bag.  Dipping her spoon into her  meal with one hand, she flipped the letter open with her other.

Dear Sweetie Belle,

I  do hope this letter finds you well.  However, I do apologize, I do not  have time for pleasantries.  There are two pressing matter that require  your immediate attention.  The first and more urgent is the need for  another copy of the instructions you mentioned in your letter.  We have  searched the entirety of my living room, without success.  I very much  feel it would be prudent that I have those instructions before I attempt  to bind your marvelous, yet aggressive gift.  It has already made a  meal of several of my friends.  So, I implore you to send another copy  of the instructions.

Secondly, I need to inform you of a  recent contract I have signed.  Furthermore, since you have submitted a  herd agreement, in writing, to the town hall, you will have to inform  Apple Bloom and Scootaloo as well.  Surprise!  You have a marriage  contract with one of your classmates.  The colt, Harry Potter, is to be  your stallion.  I know this may come as a shock, but I assure you my  intentions are in the best interests of both the colt and you.

I  confess, I was reluctant to have this weight placed on your back at  such a young age, but you and Harry will both have the option to back  out of the contract once you reach seventeen.  Until then, he is your  responsibility.  You must take care of him as I have taken care of you.   Yes, an adult caretaker has been arranged for your time here in  Ponyville, but the primary obligation for his wellbeing falls to you and  your herd sisters.  Do not be afraid to ask those you trust if you need  help or advice; it takes a village to raise a foal.

One  letter is hardly enough to explain the entirety of the duty I am  entrusting you with.  Thankfully, Twilight has graciously offered to  provide you with a book on what is required by Equestrian law.  I know  it’s a lot, but I have faith in your abilities, with the exception  cooking.  Take care of Harry, and I am sure he will take care of you in  return.

Love and kisses.

Rarity

P.S.  Please hurry with those instructions!

Sweetie  Belle had stopped eating after the first paragraph, her spoon held  limply in her free hand.  Once she was finished reading, she calmly  folded the letter and replaced it in her shoulder bag.

“Harry,” she said calmly, “put down your pumpkin juice; we need to talk.”

Harry  had no explanation as to why, but those words terrified him on some  primal level. “Oh, come on Sweetie Belle.”  He said, “That wasn’t even  the 'Daily Prophet'.”
> Chapter 22: Gathering no Moss
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The blazing South American sun beat down on the canopy of leaves raised to pay it homage.  The greedy foliage allowed very little of the life-giving energy to pass, leaving the jungle floor wrapped in shadows.  At ground level was an unusual sight -- a beetle, a seemingly unremarkable beetle that any local entomology student would have called an oxysternon festivum and kept walking, having seen dozens of the kind before.  The sphere it was manipulating was a wholly different matter.  After all, one did not normally come across golden, gem-encrusted spheres just lying on the forest floor.

Methodically, the beetle did what it could to move the object in the desired direction, employing an impressive construct of small twigs and piles of dirt.  To say that it was inching along would be generous; an inch a week would be an impressive improvement.  The gems made it awkward; the sheer mass of the gold was unwieldly.  Yet, the beetle never stopped and never abandoned the task.  It would get what it desired.

The beetle could remember having been a man long ago.  It could remember being more than a man.  Men were its subjects, its followers, its sacrifices . . . its prey.  Willingly, the populous would do whatever it asked.  With every full moon, they would, once again, sacrifice their young daughters to him.  The bodies would be offered up on a bloody altar.  It would have that euphoria again.  Once again, men would fear his name.  Once again, men would be his playthings.  All he needed was to get this sphere over to where his body lay entombed.  Then, he would walk the world again.  The blood of innocents would freely flow once more.

How long had he inhabited the body of this mere insect?  How long had he inhabited the bodies of its ancestors?  The answer was centuries.  Centuries of moving this sphere a hair’s breadth at a time, all towards the goal of remanifesting his glorious body.  His enemies were long gone.  They were dust, as was the secret of his downfall.  All he needed was to move this sphere a few more hand breadths, and it would be in range. A couple more years, and he’d be whole once more.

Unexpectedly, it grew darker.  Peering up, the beetle saw the perplexing form of a man, a man in a place that had not seen another human in well over a hundred and sixty years, a man wearing a dapper brown business ensemble that was as inappropriate as a deep-sea diving suit for the stifling heat and humidity of this environment.

Though there were no longer any who spoke the sacred language the beetle had called his own, what was next said was easily understood by the beetle.  “You are, without a doubt, on my list of preexisting threats to be neutralized.”

The beetle could only look on with impotent rage as the man reached down and seized the golden sphere. Morosely, the beetle watched centuries of work become undone as the misbegotten wretch drew back his arm and hurled the sphere impossibly far.  Worse, he threw it downhill!

“Well now, that was exceedingly anticlimactic,” the man said, dramatically raising a foot and taking aim with an expensive wingtip.   "But, it can’t hurt to make doubly sure.”  Down came the foot.





At a loss for words, Harry gaped at Sweetie Belle.  Slowly, the significance of her news sank into his awareness, and a smile crept across his face.

“I’m just as surprised as you,” Sweetie Belle was saying, yet he was no longer paying attention.  An adult caretaker would be provided for his time away from Hogwarts.  That meant he wouldn’t be returning to the Dursleys’!   He’d never have to go back!   He’d never have to go back again!  All he had to do was marry Sweetie Belle, and he would never have to go back!

“Harry, are you listening to me?”

All the humiliation was at an end.   He’d never have to listen to his uncle’s rages again.   The cupboard under the stairs was to be a thing of the past.  Maybe he’d even get to eat more than just the leftovers.  Maybe he would no longer go hungry away from school!

“This is important.”

He would have friends away from Hogwarts.  He would be with people that wanted him.   He would be more than "the boy who wasn’t welcome".

“Harry, hello?”

His cousin would no longer be able to get his gang together and play "Harry Hunting".

“Ah think you broke him, Sweetie.”

It was all at an end.  The future held promise.  He was never going back!

“Harry!” Shocked, Harry found a purple-framed face mere inches from his own.

“Scootaloo?” Harry jumped back slightly. “What?”

“Perhaps you should wait 'til after classes to talk about this,” Lavender said with her arms draped around a sniffling Ginny.

“Yeah,” Sweetie said, eyeing the loopy grin on Harry’s face, “that might be a good idea.”

“I never have to go back,” Harry whispered happily.





“Very well,” Dumbledore addressed the assembly, “The next order of business is our immediate need for a new Minister.”

A round of murmuring washed over everyone present as they prepared for a heated debate.

“The floor is now open for nominations to the post,” Dumbledore concluded.

“I object.” A muggle-born member of the Wizengamot said, standing up to have his say, “The current method of selecting our Minister was supposed to be a temporary measure.  It was a thinly-veiled power grab by the political majority at the time of its inception.”

“It has worked well enough,” a pureblood faction member countered.

“That is debatable,” a moderate returned. “Regardless, he is right; the legislation for the alternative method has expired.   Without a vote to the contrary, the process should revert to the original method.”

“Our ancestors abandoned that method as inefficient,” the first pureblood member argued.

“Our ancestors wanted a minister they could control,” another Wizengamot member emphasized. “We see where that has gotten us.  The office of Minister was never meant to be held by a puppet of the Wizengamot majority.”

“You would alter our process of electing a minister,” one of the less extreme conservative members stated.

“I would return it to the unbiased and uncorrupted method mandated by the Ministry charter,” the first Wizengamot member corrected.

“I call for a vote to extend our current method of selection,” a neutral member, who had yet to speak, said.  The call for a vote was seconded, and soon the measure was soundly defeated.  Another major upset to the status quo was accepted, and the Goblet of Fire would be choosing the next Minister.





The Gryffindor first-year flock was gathering their things, preparing to venture to their next class, when one of the tutors introduced that morning by Professor McGonagall sauntered up and interrupted.

“Children,” he said with a friendly smile, “my name is Mr. Goodman.   I’ve been hired to handle the Defense Against the Dark Arts class for Miss Belle, Miss Aloo and Miss Bloom.”

“They’re not going to be in our class?” Lavender asked, clearly disappointed.

“Their sponsor very adamantly wishes for them not to be taught by the professor currently offered by Hogwarts,” Mr. Goodman answered.   “However, the offer to attend my classes in lieu is open to each and every one of you.  The choice of under whom you wish to study is yours.”

“We’re friends,” Ginny insisted firmly.  “We’ll stick together.”

A swell of verbal concurrence quickly surged through the remaining Gryffindors.

“I was counting on that response.”  Mr. Goodman smirked.  “I should warn you that I’m an ex-auror and plan to put you through a regimen well exceeding that mandated by the Ministry-approved curriculum.  I will push you harder and will expect more from you in return.  This is not the easy path to take.”

“More work?” Ron whined.

“Yes,” Mr. Goodman said bluntly, “more work.  The option for the easy path is still open; you can still opt to go that route.”

“Ah’m not afraid of hard work,” Apple Bloom asserted.

“But that means more homework,” Ron complained.

“Ron,” Ginny growled in warning.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Goodman,” Hermione stated with a glance toward Ron. “His work ethic is a work in progress.”

“There is a time for play and a time for work.” Mr. Goodman said, eyeing Ron, “I can’t make the decision for you.   It’s your call whether you want to be adequate or exceptional.”

“Isn’t there a way to be exceptional with less work?” Ron asked.

“No.”  Mr. Goodman turned and walked away from the table.  “All those still willing, follow.”

Sullenly, Ron joined his fellow Gryffindors in mimicking ducklings as they trailed along after their new instructor.





He was packed and ready to leave, proving that arrogance was not synonymous with stupidity.   If his master had been at full strength, he would not have been cowed so readily.   If his master had been at full strength, the current arrangement would not have been necessary to begin with.   Doubtlessly, the successful retrieval of his prize hinged on him remaining incognito.  That was no longer an option.   Dumbledore would, unquestionably, be informed before too long, if he did not know already.  This endeavor was crushed before it truly began.

His only consolation was that he did not plan on leaving alone.  The girl was to be in his next class, and he fully intended on convincing her to come with him, her and her animals.   Despite the warnings the interloper had uttered, it was well worth the risk.

Once he had her, his master would be able to gather strength and reform his body.   With help, he would be able to rebuild the master’s following from the ground up.   There was a new generation of malcontents just waiting for the right leader, and, once more, that leader would be his lord.

With a show of patience that he did not feel, Quirrell sat behind his desk and waited for the students to filter into the class.

When the bell rang to indicate the start of the period, there were only four students in the class with him.

“W-w-w-where is everybody else?” Professor Quirrell demanded of the meager showing.

“Half of our house has been excused due to deaths in their families,” one of the female students explained.

“I heard the Gryffindors talking to their tutor after lunch,” the one remaining male student offered. Sarcastically, he continued, “Apparently, what this school needs is a whole bunch of auror-trained Gryffindors running around.”

“A-a-a-auror trained Gryffindors?” Professor Quirrell repeated in disbelief.  Who was Dumbledore trying to fool?  That wasn’t a defense class, that was a miniature army in the making.

“Yes,” the male student continued, “I heard him say that he was an ex-auror.”

“I s-s-s-see.” Professor Quirrell said, “Now, class, open your books and read chapter one. I’ll be back soon.” With that, he rose from his desk and left the room.   He did not return for the rest of the class.  He did not for the next period.  He did not return for supper.  He continued to prove that all times are "soon".





“The decision to reconvene next Wednesday to resolve the choice of the new Minister has passed.”  Dumbledore stood behind his podium and raised his gavel for a strike.  “On that note, as Chief Warlock, I declare this session of the Wizengamot, concluded.”  With his words, the assembled clapped their acceptance before filing out of the room at their leisure.

It had been a turbulent two-day session.   On one hand, not much had been accomplished, no trials had been held, no new laws had been passed or even discussed.   On the other, everything had changed.   The balance of power did not just slide, it jumped.  It took a running start and vaulted.  And, its momentum showed no signs of fading.  It didn’t take a genius to foretell that the next session would see many current laws struck from the books.  Then, they would dig in and start with new laws.

Change would be coming at a breakneck pace, faster than Albus felt would be prudent.   Even if most of the changes were positive, it would still be too much too fast.  The next few months would be demanding a great portion of his attention.  Luckily, he had Minerva to handle the more mundane school-related tasks.

But, before any of that was to be addressed, he needed to have a conversation with Judge Brown.   Whatever subterfuge had been used to deny him access to his student’s paperwork would have to be identified and neutralized.  Forgoing his accustomed after-session networking, Dumbledore hurried from the chambers and made his way through the network of hallways toward the office populated by the judge in question.

Before long, he was knocking on the door of the office in question.   The door opened by itself without a sound, and Dumbledore saw the Honorable Judith Brown sitting behind her desk, wand in hand.

“Albus Dumbledore,” she said with a small frown on her face, “right on time, I see.  Come in and have a seat.”   It was not a request.

“Ah Judith.”  He donned his most warming smile as he walked up to her desk, ignoring the proffered chair.  “I just need a few minutes of your time to correct a misunderstanding.”

“I said sit,” Judge Brown snapped at the most powerful wizard in generations.

Surprised at the hostility, Albus took the lone seat in front her desk and shot her a questioning glance.

“You are here to reclaim magical guardianship of Harry Potter.”   It was not a question.

“Yes, there seems to have been a mistake, and he was removed from my care.” Dumbledore said carefully, “I was his legal magical guardian and was informed that the responsibilities were transferred to another without me being consulted.”

“There is no mistake.”  Judge Brown continued to glare at the old wizard.  “Mr. Potter’s closest living relative exercised her right to choose the minor’s magical guardian.”

“That wouldn’t be in the best interests of anyone involved,” Dumbledore contended, leaning back in the chair to show he was still in control.

“Oh?” Judge Brown questioned, her glare never wavering.  “Can you raise your wand and swear that you have Harry Potter’s best interests in mind and you are not trying to use him for political purposes?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Dumbledore said, “I am the magical guardian of a multitude of children, all of whom attend Hogwarts.”

“It’s a simple question,” Judge Brown said, undeterred. “Could you make such an oath on your magic?”

“With all of my varied responsibilities,” Dumbledore admitted, “I would find it impractical to make such an oath.”

“And, with that statement, you will never again be Harry Potter’s guardian,” Judge Brown informed him.

“That would be an ill-advised decision.”

“Also, don’t think I didn’t find that marriage contract between Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley, a contract that you had no authority to draft, even as his Wizengamot-appointed guardian.” The judge continued, “I’ve had it annulled and stricken from the records.”

“I see that I am going to have to bring this to the attention of the full Wizengamot,” Albus noted, inwardly cursing the loss of that important piece of his plans.

Judge Brown snorted her dismissal.  “First and foremost, this is a family matter; the Wizengamot cannot and will not vote on a family’s internal affairs.  Secondly, Mr. Potter’s magical guardian is a foreign national, making this matter outside the scope of the Wizengamot.  You’re not going to be able to use politics to manipulate this situation to your liking.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, starting to rise, realizing this judge was not going to align with his views.  “Then I suppose we have nothing else to discuss at this time.”

“Sit!!” Judge Brown snarled, reaching into a desk drawer to throw a standard medical folder onto her desk before Dumbledore.  “Explain this.  Explain this now.”





The Princess concluded her visit and was soon on her sky chariot, headed back to Canterlot.  She had given firm instructions to be notified of any updates on the human colt situation.  She had also requested four chests similar to the one Rarity had received, though not of such high quality.  In return, she left Rarity with a bank draft for a substantial number of bits, saying that it was for both a down payment on the new chests and for repairs to George.

“Well,” Rarity said, levitating George into her home, “it certainly has been an exhilarating morning.”

“All’s well that ends well,” Pinkie agreed, bouncing along side Rarity, “and you got a super-duper terrific wonderful present to show for it.”

“Ah got vomited up by a piece a luggage.” Applejack reminded everypony.  “'Exhilarating' ain’t the word ah’d use to describe this here morning.”

“Yes . . .well . . .” Rarity started, trying to compose a proper reply.

She was saved by Rainbow Dash raising a hoof and saying, “Look, you got mail.”

“You're enjoying saying that, aren’t you?” Twilight commented as an owl flew through the still open front door, carrying a large envelope.

“Hello,” Rarity said, addressing the bird.  “Welcome to the Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique.”  A minute later, the bird left without the envelope, but with a new tasty biscuit in its place.

“Did Sweetie get the new instructions that quickly?” Twilight asked as Rarity opened the envelope.

“Let me see,” Rarity said, pulling out the first piece of parchment.  “No, this is from Judge Brown; it says she’s sent the results from the medical checkup.”

“Medical checkup?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“For Harry Potter.”  Rarity nodded her head, retrieving a cluster of papers from the envelope.  “Apparently, since I am his new guardian, they are required by law to send me a copy.”

With that, she started reading.   Before she had finished the first page, her eyes had narrowed to slits, and the tears were freely flowing.  Soft sobs were escaping her throat by the time she finished that page.  She was audibly grinding her teeth as she started on page two.  Sobs openly filled the air as she continued, and her friends looked on, with worry evident on their faces.  Half way through the second page she stopped and stuffed the papers back into the envelope.

“Rarity?” Pinkie asked, creeping forward to comfort her friend.

“If I remember correctly, Fluttershy said Discord would be stopping by for tea today,” Rarity said, blinking away tears.  “If I hurry, I can catch him.  I need for him to take me to have a word with the Dursleys.”

“Ah don’t rightly know that you’re in the right frame of mind to have words with anypony right now,” Applejack cautioned carefully.

“Not words, Apple, darling,” Rarity said heading for the door, her voice still carrying the traces of her sobbing, “word, just a single word.”

“What word is that?” Rainbow Dash asked following closely after her friend.

Rarity’s voice became colder and harder than a diamond. “Run.”





The wards and the shop bells announced another customer. Sighing to himself Garrick Ollivander left the half-finished aspen wand on his work table and wandered to the front of his shop.

A professor, a muggle, a squib, and a witch walked into the shop.  Ollivander prepared a witty quip.  Suddenly, he saw the revenant in their midst.  The humor in the situation evaporated.  Shakily, he stepped out of the shadows and addressed the anomaly.  “You're dead.” he stated.

She looked back at him defiantly and said, “I got better.”

Dumbfounded, he continued to stare.

“Yeah,” she said with a smirk, “that’s not getting old anytime soon.”





“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Twilight asked as they trailed after Rarity, heading towards Fluttershy’s.

“Ah know what ya’ll mean,” Applejack said, glancing at the back of Rarity’s head. “The thought of her finding the Dursleys right now is a might frightening.”

“No,” Pinkie said shaking her head violently, “what’s scary is that there is no possible way we can avoid showing those papers to Princess Celestia.”

As soon as those words left her mouth, Twilight stumbled, Applejack stopped in her tracks, and Rainbow Dash plummeted from the air where she had been hovering.  Rarity keep moving, her single-minded quest uninterrupted.

“Um, yeah,” Rainbow said, “and on a completely unrelated topic, I need to go make sure my life insurance premiums are paid up.”

“You have a life insurance policy?” Pinkie asked.

“No,” Rainbow clarified as she shook her head, “but how hard could it be to get one?”

“Ya’ll know,” Applejack said, “that would actually be funnier if’n it warn’t a good idea.”





Sirius Black sat on a hard, straight-backed chair.  He hadn’t been this comfortable in years.  Who would have thought that having something to sit on besides the floor was genuinely one of the things you came to long for after even a short stay in Azkaban?

They had seemed to have forgotten about him, something he was decidedly not going to complain about.  The hours he had spent sitting alone in this room were heaven compared to the alternative.  It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being by himself.

The door to the room opened, and an older wizard walked in, smiling.

“Lord Black,” he said, “my name is Johnathan Taylor.  I was your Grandfather’s lawyer.  I was your father’s lawyer.  Now, I am your lawyer.”

“I remember you.” Sirius said, staring at the wizard.  “Were you the one who got me my trial?”

“To my shame,” Mr. Taylor said, shaking his head, “I had written you off.  Another is responsible for your illegal imprisonment being brought to light.”

“What happens now?” Sirius asked.  “Did they catch Peter?  I need to catch Peter.  I need to catch Peter for James and Lily.”

Mr. Taylor paused, as if cataloging what the other man had just said, then answered, “Now, we get you to St. Mungo's; you have been granted a reprieve until you stand trial, a two-and-a-half-year reprieve.”

Sirius nodded his head happily; it had been so long since he could do anything happily.  “I can find Peter in two years.  I can avenge James.  I can avenge Lily.  I have to protect Harry.  I will protect Harry.”

Sighing, Johnathan Taylor could see that his client had yet to recover all his wits after his stay in Azkaban.  Worse, it was entirely possible that he never would.  On the bright side, everything the Lord had said validated what Miss Rutter had already claimed.





The defense class had turned out to be less painful than Harry had first feared.  It had consisted of Mr. Goodman talking in front of the classroom.  There was no spellwork discussed or even hinted at.  After all, they had only had three days of classes: theory was the only thing within their skill range at the time.

“It is almost time for next period.”  Mr. Goodman said, “Luckily, for you lot, History is up next.”

“Awwwww.”  The entire class, minus Hermione, groaned.

“I vote we do double defense instead.”  Scootaloo spoke up, “I doubt Professor Binns would know the difference.”

“Now, now,” Mr. Goodman said, savoring the fact that he knew something the children didn’t, “Professor Binns isn’t that bad.”

“I thought you said you went to school here,” Dean said in an accusing voice.  “He is that bad, and resurrections have been banned.”

“Ah,” Mr. Goodman chuckled holding his sides, “so that was your objective.”

“Well,” Ginny huffed, “yeah.”

“That was actually a pretty creative plan,” Mr. Goodman admitted.  “Your follow through needs some work, though.”

“So, you’ll let us resurrect Professor Binns?” Lavender asked eagerly.

“As tempting as that sounds,” Mr. Goodman smiled, “no.  But as you may recall, there were two tutors introduced to you this morning.”  He nodded toward the back of the class.

The students all turned around to find a woman was standing at the rear of the classroom quietly observing.

“Miss Weiss here has been hired as a tutor for Misses Bloom, Aloo and Belle.”  Mr. Goodman continued, “The rest of you have a choice:  you can stay here for your History lessons, or you can continue to attend Professor Binn’s lectures.”

“Are you serious?” Ron asked in Binn's monotone.   “You can’t possibly think that’s an actual choice.”





“Discord, just the draconequus I was hoping to find.”

Looking up from his chatter with Fluttershy, Discord saw that Rarity had entered the cottage without knocking.  The unicorn was headed directly toward him with an unusual look on her face.

Now, Discord hadn’t made it to a thousand plus years without developing certain instincts -- instincts that were yelling at him at the top of their non-corporeal and inaudible lungs.  They weren’t stupid; there was no way they were going to put in a physical appearance.  Comedic license could go stuff its head in a lake; they were staying where only Discord could hear them.  So, they stayed immaterial and told Discord not to antagonize this mare.  They told him to choose his words very carefully.  They told him that upon choosing his words, he was to discard them and try again, because his first choice was likely to be very painful.

“Um?  Hello?’ Discord said, ignoring his instincts and going with his first choice.

His instincts hollered at him, informing him he made the wrong choice, asserting that he should have chosen "Um?  Bye!"

“Discord, I need you to take me to the Dursley household.”

Discord opened his mouth to say, "That wouldn’t be a good idea.", but his instincts managed to grab ahold of the words and stamp them out, before they could escape his mouth.

Instead, he said, “There is something you probably want to know first,” his gaze trapped on the sight of the predator before him.

“Do tell.” Rarity said levelly and without emotion.

“The Dursleys, they were under a lot of compulsion charms.  As much as it pains me to say it, they are victims here, not the villains.”

“I see. Do you know who cast those charms?”

Discord blandly nodded his head.

“Then take me to her.” Rarity commanded.

“He’s a he,” Discord said before his instincts could catch the words.

“Won’t be when I’m done,” Rarity vowed.
> Chapter 23: Dumbledore Bashing; Gratuitous Dumbledore Bashing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a crack and a staggering step, Myrtle Smith was once again in her family’s living room.  So far, her day had shattered many of her convictions.  Yesterday, she had been positive that magic was nothing more than a fantasy.  Today, she knew her daughter was a witch.  She knew her long-dead aunt was also a witch.  She surely knew she was sick of hearing the words, “I got better.”  However, it had been admittedly funny watching the goblins’ reactions to them.

She also knew she was a "squib".  The small professor had explained that meant she was someone able to interact with and to perceive the magic in the world, but lacked the ability to control it.  So, here she was, suddenly offered a cake she could not eat.  Well, apparently, she could at least lick the frosting.  Upon, learning that contact lenses were the source of the irritation in her eyes, Flitwick had shown them to a shop that sold honest to goodness potions, potions that would do exactly what the advertising promised.  Fifty-two quid worth of those wizards' gold coins later, Myrtle found she would never have to wear contacts again.  They had a foul-tasting purple liquid that permanently corrected your eyesight if you were a fully-grown adult.  To be honest, the shop keeper had stated that it only returned one's vision to perfection, and her eyes would begin to deteriorate again over time, but, still, it was cheaper than contacts and much more comfortable.  Regardless of the results, she adamantly did not want to know what the little white specks floating in the mixture were.  One of them most certainly had not winked at her.

The shopping trip had been over much too quickly for Myrtle’s tastes; there was too much left unexplored and there were too many possibilities left uninvestigated.  Amy had been disgruntled when she had learned it would be two years before she would be allowed to own a wand.  In consolation, Myrtle had bought her daughter a broom.  It was by no means a top of the line model.  There had been no way Myrtle would have spent that much, with Amy being so young.  However, with Amy now the proud owner of a training broom, Professor Flitwick had informed them that there were several magical families within a short drive of their home.  These families had warded lands where Amy should be able to practice flying, if they were asked.  Supposedly, one family even had members who had taken part in the other Myrtle’s resurrection.

Myrtle sighed, she was clearly going to need to find something else to call her aunt, even if it was just in her own head.





Standing in the shadows of an alcove, Amelia Bones watched Dumbledore storm out of Judge Brown’s offices.  She had no intention of interacting with the ancient and powerful wizard at this time, but she needed to have a quick conference with the judge.  Specifically, she needed to know how this was going to affect her niece, who had just started at Hogwarts.

After waiting for Dumbledore to disappear around a corner, Amelia made her way over and knocked on the office’s door.  Less than a minute later she was sitting in the visitor’s chair, at a request from the judge.

“I saw Dumbledore leaving,” Amelia started. “He looked less than happy.”

“As well he should.”  Judge Brown knitted her brows and pointed to a medical folder on her desk.  “In the manner of a practiced politician, he claimed ignorance to the situations leading to this.  Unfortunately, it would be difficult to make any charges stick.  However, at the very least, he has shown that he is not up to the responsibility of being the boy’s guardian, something he seems to disagree with most vehemently.”  Judge Brown sighed before continuing, “He had plans for the child, and those plans have been derailed.”

“What of the compulsion spells we found?”

“Unless you can prove Dumbledore cast them . . .” Judge Brown didn’t bother to finish the sentence.

“So, you're saying we sit back and wait?”  Amelia was disgusted that there would be no reckoning for the injustices.  “I have never seen a more blatant case of emotional manipulation.  He obviously wants the boy to see him as the savior who ‘rescued’ him from the evil relatives.”

“He’ll just claim it was an oversight on his part.  I can see it now, a few words of how he couldn’t possibly imagine how someone’s blood relatives being so cruel, etcetera, etcetera.” Judge Brown waved a hand dismissively. “Then, he’ll give that sad grandfatherly smile and beg for forgiveness; he will say he doesn’t deserve any criticism, all the while, promising to do better if we will just trust in him.”

“I find that I am unsatisfied with this outcome,” Amelia said.

Judge Brown said nothing; words were not needed.

After a few seconds Amelia asked, “What’s to happen with Potter?  Has his new guardian indicated what she plans to do?”

“When I met with her, Mrs. Belle only seemed interested in protecting Potter,” Judge Brown said reaching for the medical folder.  “How she reacts when she receives this report is not something I imagine will go over well with anyone.”  She paused with her hand on the folder.  “The one who has me concerned is her companion.  Mr. Discord gives the impression of being a very powerful wizard.  If he reacts violently to this news, we may find ourselves in need of a new Chief Warlock, as well as a new Minister.”

Amelia wilted slightly.  “As if we haven’t had enough of shaking the government lately.”

“We will survive.”  Judge Brown said, “In fact, I think we will be better for it in the long run.”

“You realize that all the sudden changes we are experiencing are the results of a foreign government’s interference?”  Amelia gave the judge a questioning glance.

“Even so, the changes have been for the better.”

“Aren’t you alarmed by the abrupt and calculated nature of the power shift?  Our very sovereignty may be at risk.”  Amelia was unsure how to take the judge’s unconcerned attitude.

“As opposed to our slow decline into the hands of power hungry, unrepentant, murderous, bigots?”  The judge sighed.  “You’ve seen it just as much as I have.  The Wizengamot and Ministry were only interested in the few wizards at the top.  I, for one, do not begrudge the transformation, even if it were instigated by an outside influence.”

“I still don’t like it,” Amelia stated.





Chief Warlock Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was lost in his thoughts.  Barely acknowledging the presence of others, he traversed the halls of the Ministry.  His weapon against Voldemort had been taken from his care.  With a nurturing environment, it would be harder to convince Harry that he should die for the good of Britain.  Worse, there was presently the possibility that Harry would choose to flee to another dimension instead of facing his destiny of defeating the dark lord.

Now, they were all in danger of falling to the evil.  It was only a matter of time before Tom put in his appearance.  Make no mistake, he would be dangerous even without his power base.  Once again, there would be war -- war, when they hadn’t yet recovered from the last one.

Why couldn’t the judge see this.  What was the welfare of one child against the entirety of magical Britain?  Of the entire magical world?  Of the entire world?

Without his guidance to Potter, Voldemort would win.  The death toll would be grievous.

Bemoaning the fate of the world, Albus opened the door to his offices to find that there was already an occupant.  Caught off guard, he took in the appearance of the woman in the room.  She was strikingly beautiful, wearing a rich burgundy dress.  However, her most notable feature was her purple hair.  At once, Dumbledore realized this must be a pony.  Perhaps, here was an opportunity to make amends and regain control of Harry.

As soon as he stepped into the office, she fixed him with an unfriendly glower, even as Dumbledore gave her his most winning smile.

“Albus Dumbledore?” she asked, her voice coated with ice.

Valiantly, Dumbledore fought the urge to flee and answered, “Yes.”

Her eyes narrowed at the admission.  “Run.”





Madam Pomfrey had put off this meeting all day.  With Minerva having a free period at the end of the day, she couldn’t delay it any longer.  By rights she should have brought this to the attention of the deputy headmistress last night.  Normally, this would be for the headmaster’s eyes only, but circumstances made that unethical.

Much too soon, Minerva had invited Madam Pomfrey into her office and was attempting to make small talk, small talk in which Madam Pomfrey was too distracted to participate.

“Poppy?”  Professor McGonagall asked worriedly, “Whatever is the matter?”

Wordlessly, Madam Pomfrey offered the medical file she was carrying as way of explanation.





“Ah can’t believe they left without us,” Applejack said as she watched Twilight finish a letter for the Princess.

“You don’t think Rarity would really do that to a stallion?” Fluttershy asked shyly.  “I mean she sounded so angry, but she won’t actually do that, would she?”

“I don’t know.”  Rainbow Dash admitted.  “Twilight won’t let us read the ‘private medical report’, so I don’t know just how bad it is.”

“It couldn’t be that bad,” Fluttershy asked, “could it?”

“Ah think it might just be.”  Applejack tipped her hat forward with a hoof.  “Y’all didn’t see Rarity’s reaction as she was reading it.”

“And we’re sending this to Princess Celestia. Why?” Spike asked from his spot standing next to Twilight.

“She asked for all updates,” Twilight responded, clipping a ribbon around the completed letter, “so I made a copy for her.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Spike persisted, eyeing the paper as if it were a live serpent.

“No,” Twilight said, “I’m positive that it’s a bad idea.”





Lecturing in front of her third-year class, Professor Sprout’s head suddenly snapped up.  She could feel the wards.  She could feel the wards of Hogwarts!

That wasn’t good. For the wards to pass to her meant that Albus, Minerva, and Filius were all not available to take them.  She knew that Albus and Filius were in London on separate chores, but where the heck had Minerva gone?





Dumbledore was a world-renowned duelist.  He was one of the very few individuals who could go toe to toe with Mad Eye Moody and walk away the winner.  In short, he was not a slouch when it came to one-on-one combat.

Before him was a woman that looked like she was more used to the finer things in life than to fighting.  In fact, Rarity, wasn’t a warrior by any stretch of the imagination.  She was a fashion designer, a seamstress.  Her talent lay not only in her eye for design, but also in her ability to levitate multitudes of objects simultaneously, positioning things swiftly and precisely, and having them interact to fulfill her creative vision.

Dumbledore knew countless spells and counter spells. He was a virtual encyclopedia of combat tactics. Few in the wizarding world could match his skill, or his raw power.

If, in terms of raw power, Celestia were the sun, then Rarity might be a spark.  Raw strength was not a part of the Element of Generosity's repertoire; in terms of relevant magical abilities, Rarity could levitate many things at once, positioning them with an artist's precision and an automaton's speed.

Dumbledore survived several wars, doing his best to take down his opponents with the least amount of injuries while simultaneously neutralizing their attacks.

Rarity was in an alien form, and was she was channeling her magic through a stick of wood instead of her horn.

Dumbledore had sensed the hostility in the young woman and was more than prepared for conflict; he could stun her before she got her first spell off.  From the way in which she grasped her wand like a cudgel, he could see she had no experience with using it for magic.  He expected he would be in far more danger of her using it as a blunt instrument.

Rarity had no idea how to cast spells with her wand; all she could do was use it to levitate things.

Dumbledore was experienced.  Dumbledore was headmaster of Hogwarts.  Dumbledore was Chief Warlock. Dumbledore was Supreme Mugwump.  Dumbledore was an acclaimed combatant.  Dumbledore was a power to be feared.  Dumbledore was not to be trifled with.  Dumbledore was a formidable opponent, but as with all of the physical world, he was still a thing.  Has it been mentioned that Rarity was rather good at levitating things?  She used no spells for what she did; it was all second nature.





In every corner of the palace, alarms were blaring.  Guard ponies ran around with looks of panic, doing their best to herd the stampede of citizens out of harm’s way.

“Code Tempest! Code Tempest!” one of the guard ponies with officer markings was yelling at the top of his unicorn-amplified lungs.  “We have a Code Tempest!  This is not a drill!”

“What the buck was in that letter?!” demanded a junior officer as he skidded to a stop.

“Obviously, somepony’s death warrant.  Now shut up and go muster the fire suppression squad!”





Following the screaming, Amelia ran down the corridor with a small squad of aurors flanking her.  Soon she felt the Wham! Wham! Wham! of something repeatedly coming into forceful contact with the walls.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded loudly as she came upon the scene.

“When all you have is a hammer, the whole world looks like a nail,” Mr. Discord commented from beside her, somewhere he most assuredly hadn’t been just a second ago.  “Let’s just call Dumbledore a nail, shall we?”

“Looks more like a racquetball to me,” one of the junior aurors noted.

“Stop her!” Amelia demanded of the foreign wizard.  She then yelled at the duelist, “Mrs. Belle I know you have a good reason to be upset, but please calm down!”

“Do I look particularly suicidal?” Discord asked in return.

“Non-lethal spells only!” Amelia yelled to her men.  “Bring her down!”

Spells started flying, and things started levitating to block them.  Chairs intercepted stunners.  Those annoying little plants people think look good in hallways stopped binding spells.  Portraits torn off the walls screamed as they met confusion bolts.  A Chief Warlock was subjected to a multitude of auror-induced indignities.  The occasional auror blocked their own spells in what amounted to some of the most embarrassing manners.

In all thirty-seven spells clashed with impromptu shields.  Luckily, for Dumbledore, thirty-eight spells had been cast.  A bolt of red magic hit Rarity from a blind side and she tumbled, bonelessly, to the floor.  Dumbledore followed soon thereafter.





“Sister?” a dark blue pony asked as she approached the center of what remained of the throne room.  “Why do you rampage so?  What news could bring such fury to your kind person?  How has it come to be that you would disregard the safety of our subjects in such an undisciplined manner?”

From her position in the center of the scorched destruction, Princess Celestia was still breathing heavily as she levitated a surprisingly unburnt scroll over for her younger sister to see.

Inquisitively, Princess Luna accepted the missive in her own telekinetic field and began to read.





A furious witch stalked the halls of the Wizengamot, intent on doing harm.  Witches and wizards who saw her coming leapt to get out of her way.  The security detail showed amazing survival instincts and waived the mandatory wand weighing.

Spotting a cluster of aurors, she stormed up and snapped, “Amelia, have you seen Albus?”

Abruptly, the personnel within earshot all went quiet.  Astonishment manifested on the face of every individual.  There was no one present who didn’t look up to this witch, and fear her on some level.  Never before had they heard her use that tone.

Amelia sighed and said, “I’m sorry Minerva; Mrs. Belle found him first.”

“I see,” the witch said, impatiently tapping a foot, “did she leave anything for me?”





“Pinkie!” Twilight yelled, trotting over to her friend sitting in the corner.  “You shouldn’t read that.  It’s a confidential medical report.”

“I had to know,” Pinkie stated, her normally poufy mane deflating into straight lengths on the sides of her head.  “I had to know what could upset Rarity so much.”

“Yup,” Rainbow noted, “it’s that bad.  Maybe we should go get Rarity before she does something she’ll regret later.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Applejack asked.  “She took Discord with her.”

“I don’t know, but we should think of something.”  Rainbow pointedly looked at Twilight.

“Until Discord returns, there is not much we can do.”  Twilight shook her head.  “I’m just hoping Princess Celestia isn’t too upset with what’s in this report.”

“Don’t worry.”  Fluttershy comforted her friend.  “Princess Luna is at the castle; I-I-I’m sure she can calm Princess Celestia if worst comes to worst.”





In every corner of the palace, alarms were blaring. Guard ponies ran around with looks of panic, doing their best to herd the stampede of citizens out of harm’s way.

“Code Nightshade! Code Nightshade!” one of the guard ponies with officer markings was yelling at the top of his unicorn-amplified lungs.  “We have a Code Nightshade!  This is not a drill!”

“For the love of Equestria, somepony get that letter away from them!” a junior officer yelled.

“Nopony is that suicidal!” another officer snapped.





Standing over a work table, reading snippets of articles, Barnabas Cuffe had a problem, a wonderfully magnificent problem.  He could not decide what the next banner headline of the "Daily Prophet" should be.  The paper only put out an evening edition as needed, and never before had there been such a glaring need.

"Sirius Black Released from Azkaban" would have been spectacular in its own right.  The fact that, "Dumbledore Receives Thrashing from Angry Parent" was also in the running made the choice downright absurd.  Each story was worthy of its own banner headline.  Both were events that no one could have predicted.  Literally, just yesterday, no one would have believed either possible.  Absolutely nothing could top them.

Humming to himself, Barnabas tried to hash out a way to fit both dramas into the same headline.

Abruptly, one of his head reporters, Rita Skeeter, ran into the room radiating excitement.  “I’ve got the headline story for tonight’s edition,” she exclaimed confidently.

Barnabas openly chuckled at her. “I doubt you can top what we’ve already got.  Ten years of illegal imprisonment is hard to surpass, not to mention, our Chief Warlock getting his arse kicked by some school mum.”

“Oh, I’ve got those beat hands down,” she said, waving her hand dismissively at the layout on the table.  “Some Hogwarts students resurrected 'Moaning Myrtle' Warren.  She’s been seen in the Alley getting supplies to resume classes.”

“They did what, now?!”





Applejack hated leaving the library while Rarity was still out doing Celestia knows what, but she needed to get the Apple family wagon back to the farm.  The market was closed for the day, and if it hadn’t been for the flower sisters helpfully minding her wares, Applejack would not have made any bits today.  She had given them a couple bushels of apples in gratitude.  The ecstatic thanks she had received for that act showcased their sincere appreciation.

As fast as she could safely manage it, Applejack approached her homestead.  There, she was met with a sight she wasn’t expecting.  Her older brother, Big Mac, was transferring buckets of apples from a wagon to the cold cellar for storage.  It was not an unusual sight, but it positively was one she should not be seeing at that time.

“Big Mac!” she said as she quickly detached herself from the market wagon.  “What are y’all doing here?  Ya were supposed to make a delivery of apples tonight.  Is everything a’right?”

Her brother gave her a lazy stare as she trotted up to him. Laconically, he drawled, “Eeeyup.”

“Did they cancel the order?” Applejack asked.

“Nnnope.”

“Did they change the time of delivery?”

“Nnnope.”

“Then why in tarnation are you standing here?”

“Ah sent mah owl,” Big Mac slowly explained.

“Y’all did what, now?”  Applejack gaped at her brother.

“Owl.” Big Mac reiterated.

“What?” Applejack restated.

Big Mac reached beneath his harness and retrieved a letter to hoof over to his sister.

After reading, Applejack said, "Apple Bloom sent you an owl with a magic pouch?”

Big Mac nodded his head.

“It ain’t a pony-eating pouch by any chance?”

The red stallion looked shiftily from one side to the other. "Mmmmaybe?"





Walking into a St Mungo’s waiting room, Healer Davis approached the waiting duo of aurors.  “He’ll live,” he stated.

“How bad was it?” the lead auror asked.

“I’ve heard the phrase, ‘break every bone in your body’, before.”  Healer Davis sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair.  “But, this is the first time I’ve ever seen someone attempt it literally.”

“He’s got a date with a bottle of Skele-Gro then?” the other auror inquired.

“More like two bottles.”  Davis said, “We had to vanish every single bone while temporarily replacing the skeleton with magic, and then pour the potion down his throat.  Whatever was it he did to provoke this?”

“I’m not sure,” the second auror said, “but Director Bones said that the witch had good reason to be upset.  Whatever Dumbledore did is now on my list of things to never ever do.”





There was a flash of flames, and the Gryffindor herd materialized in the girl’s dorm room.

“Where are all the beds?” Parvati asked upon seeing that the room had been rearranged.  The tasteful Victorian furnishings were all gone; only their trunks had been left behind, placed at even intervals along the interior walls. The room now looked much like a setting for a traditional creche, with a large pile of straw near the window and a wooden manger filled with clean water.

“They turned our dorm room into a stable,” Lavender said as she watched Magah trot over to sample the water.

“Speaking of her,” Hermione said, surveying the room, “has anyone else noticed that we haven’t had to clean up after Magah yet?”

“Maybe she's constipated?” Seamus suggested with a shrug.

“For two days?” Parvati asked.

“Don’t be silly,” Scootaloo said.  “The bathroom's just right over there; I’m sure she can fit through the door.”

“Somehow, I don’t think forest unicorns are civilized enough to use a toilet,” Hermione said.

“Eeeew!”  Apple Bloom said, “That’s just Eeeew.”

Sweetie walked over to the chests and opened one of the more ornate ones at random.  “It’s not like we don’t have portable apartments just waiting for us.”

“Way to change the subject, Sweetie,” Dean said.

“Noticed that, did you?” Sweetie said, disappearing into the trunk.  “Oh, this one’s Ginny’s; come on down.”

“Third day of class, done!” Lavender said triumphantly, flopping onto a chair once she had descended the stairs.

“It does seem like it should be more than that.”  Dean commented, “A lot sure has happened in just three school days.”

“You’re just getting used to a new routine,” Hermione said.  “I’m sure things will go quicker once this week is done.”

Ginny snorted.  “This week feels like it took months already.”

“Yeah, I'm sure it does,” Parvati said, heading to the kitchenette.  “I guess it’s my turn to whip up some tea.”

“So,” Apple Bloom said, turning to Harry, “welcome to tha herd.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo echoed, “welcome.”

“Thank you,” Harry said.

After a second, Dean piped up.  “Hey, don’t we get a welcome too?  We’re all part of the Gryffindor Herd.”

“You wanna join too?” Sweetie Belle asked curiously.

“Two stallions,” Scootaloo breathed greedily.

“We are all pretty much a herd, already,” Parvati called from the kitchen area.

“Yeah.”  Ginny nodded her head in agreement.  “Friends and all.”

Scootaloo reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a blank scroll and quill.  “Are you sure?”

“What’s to be sure about?” Neville asked quietly.  “I really like being around all you guys.”

“Three stallions!” Scootaloo nearly smudged the writing she was hastily putting down on the scroll.

Apple Bloom sat, stunned, with her eyes wide open.

“Don’t look so shocked Apple.”  Seamus teased, “How could we not love you already?  You’re the life of the party.”

“Four.” Sweetie squeaked.

Scootaloo nudged Ginny and said, “Here, sign under the Filly column.”

“I’m in, too,” Ron said from where he was sneaking biscuits from a box Parvati had opened.

Apple Bloom started hyperventilating.

“Calm down, Apple Bloom,” Hermione said, reaching for the quill.  “Cutie Mark Crusader’s Herd?”

“We already have that name on file,” Sweetie explained.

“Isn’t it silly signing a paper just to say we are a herd?” Dean asked as he put his name down.  “After all, we already know we are a herd.”

“Got to make it official,” Scootaloo informed him.

“Oh,” Lavender said, adding her mark, “okay.”





In a small apartment, somewhere south of London, a girl named Abagail was doing her homework.  History was not her favorite subject, but her mother had grounded her, so playing outside before dinner wasn’t an option.  Who knew sawdust was that flammable anyway?

Sighing, she reread the last paragraph before turning to her paper to write down the answer to the assigned question.  Startled and slightly disgusted she saw that a bug had crawled onto her work.  Not wanting guts all over her clean sheet, Abagail started to reach for the page so that she could flick the offending insect out the window.  She stopped when she the bug had placed a foreleg on some of her previous writing and was somehow drawing the ink into itself.

Mesmerized, she watched as the bug traversed the paper, leaving a trail of ink behind it.  The resulting marks were like no language she had known of or even imagined, but she had the distinct impression that it was a language.  For ten minutes, she watched the antics, and slowly, the meaning of the marks shifted into her awareness.  Blinking in surprise she looked away, then looked back.  The words were still there, even more legible than they had been just a few seconds earlier.

Barely able to believe what was happening, Abagail reread what was written to make sure she understood.  After being positive she comprehended the message, she took a deep breath and called out, “Mum!  There’s a beetle in here trying to tempt me with riches and dark powers!”

“Tell it to come back Friday.  Tonight’s a school night, and you’re still grounded.”
> Chapter 24: News Networking and Neighing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dying rays of the sun cast long shadows on the few ponies left in town hall.  The business day had ended long ago.  Mayor Mare herself had scarcely put the key in her office door when she sprang back to avoid the fireball that accompanied the crack of displaced air.

As she peeled herself out of the plaster on the freshly-repaired wall, the fireball resolved itself into a familiar firebird.  Once her hooves were solidly on the floor, she scolded the bird.  "Philomena!  You should be ashamed of yourself!  You know better than to go around scaring old gray mares!"  She groaned as she mentally tallied the cost of redoing that repair yet again.

Philomena trilled at her lightly in response.  She did not chuckle; Mayor Mare was adamant that phoenixes could not chuckle.  It didn't matter what it looked like.  It did not matter what it sounded like.  Mayor Mare would swear on her honor that Philomena did not chuckle.

“What brings you here so late?” the mayor asked, dusting off a fetlock with one hoof.

Philomena held out a claw and offered the mayor a scroll.

“So,” the mayor said, accepting the scroll, “they still have you pulling mail duty?”

Philomena trilled happily.

“Let’s see what you brought me.”  The mayor took the scroll in her mouth and placed it on a nearby table.  Taking an end of the ribbon in her teeth, she opened the scroll and then began perusing the first few lines.  “The Crusaders want to update their herd agreement?”

As she continued reading, she stepped back.  Her eyeballs nearly pushed off her glasses, and her lower jaw made a plucky attempt to meet with the ground even though the mayor was standing.





Alone in the stark room, Rarity fidgeted in her chair, like a school filly about to be scolded by her teacher.  She daintily kept her hands in her lap as she looked over the back of the empty chair on the opposite side of the table.  The doorknob had not moved one iota since she started keeping watch.  Her fury had waned and reduced itself to a low simmer.  Maybe she had gone too far.  Attacking a high government official inside a government building couldn’t possibly endear her to the locals.  Now she sat, waiting to face the music.

Then again, maybe she hadn’t gone far enough.  After all, she had missed her opportunity to separate the old stallion from his two best friends.  Now, the old stallion would doubtlessly turn tail and run at the sight of her.  That was a true pity because now he would never understand just how livid she was at him.

The door to the room opened and a lone human stallion entered.  “Mrs. Belle?” he said, running his hand through his red mane and stopping just inside the chamber.  “May I please come in?”

Continuing to be impressed by the politeness of her captors, Rarity nodded her head to indicate the empty chair on the opposite side of the lone table.  “By all means.”  She said apprehensively, “After all, I am your detainee.”

“You misunderstand,” the stallion said, taking the proffered seat.  “I am not an auror, nor am I here in my capacity as head of department.  My name is Arthur Weasley; Sweetie Belle has appointed me as her proxy.  Since I accepted, that makes our families allies.”

“Allies you say?”  Rarity gave a weak smile.  “That is refreshing to hear.  Although, I do wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

“Yes,” Arthur said nodding, “this situation does present a sticky wicket.  You see, my family has been a staunch supporter of Dumbledore and his policies.  Your actions today are at odds with what we would normally condone.”

“I see,” Rarity said, some of the friendliness going out of her voice.  “You wish to defend Dumbledore’s actions?”

“No,” he said placing his hands on the table and folding them, “I don’t know what actions I’d be defending.  On top of that, Minerva stormed in here looking for Dumbledore soon after your altercation.”  Arthur paused to select his next words.  “Even though she has always supported Dumbledore in the past, she seemed bent on doing something similar to what you had already accomplished.”  He paused again then added, “I thought it best that I gave a full disclosure of my position before you found out another way.  I don’t want you thinking I was deliberately misleading you.”

“Thank you,” Rarity said as warmth returned to her words.  “Your sincerity is appreciated.”

“I don’t want to make you angry,” Arthur admitted.

Rarity gave a reassuring smile to show that she was harmless.

“Madam Bones has gone on record to state that you had ample reason to challenge Dumbledore to a duel.” Arthur proceeded, “Furthermore, she insists that you would not know the legitimate process to accomplish this.”  Arthur looked her directly in the eyes.  “If you had not ambushed Dumbledore in his office and had instead called for a formal duel, the aurors would not have interfered.”

“Honestly?”  Rarity perked up at the news.  “Isn’t that a bit . . . uncouth?”

“Perhaps,” Arthur agreed.  “Dueling is highly discouraged, but it remains a legal option.”

“May I ask what happens now?”

“Now I give you this,” Arthur said, removing Rarity’s wand from his coat pocket and rolling it across the desk to her.  “Then, as an ally, I politely ask you to leave British soil and not return anytime soon.”

“So, I’m being banished?”

“Not so much banished,” Arthur shook his head, “as being encouraged not to put in an appearance for a couple months.  Maybe as much as a year.”

“That seems rather merciful.”  Rarity was flabbergasted at the turn of events.  “I was sure I’d be in more trouble.”

“Dumbledore attempted to use his position to meddle in private family affairs, even after you formally approached our government, asking for the sanctity of family matters to be observed.”  Arthur informed her, “Your mistake was ambushing him without filing a blood feud first.  As it is, the Ministry is hoping you don’t file a complaint with the ICW; they are even more unbending with family sanctity than we are.”

“I see,” Rarity said.  “They want to sweep this under the rug, so to speak.”

“Basically,” Arthur confessed, “yes.”

Rarity gave a winning smile.  "Thank you for your advice, and your candor, Mr. Weasley.  I must warn you, however, I am a guardian, and I take that responsibility seriously.





Applejack stuck her head in the farmhouse and called out, “Granny! Ah’m ‘fraid Ah’m not going to be a’ staying for dinner.  Something's come up an' ah need to get mah flank back over ta Twilight’s.”

“All righty,” Granny Smith replied from the kitchen, “you git along and take care of business then.  Thar will be leftovers in the icebox when you amble back.”

“Thank you kindly,” Applejack said.

“’Fore you go:  Big Mac has a new owl, one y'all will be seeing hanging about.”  Granny warned, “The owl seems a right friendly sort, but the bag he wears is a mite grabby.”

“Ah’ll keep that in mind.”  Applejack shuddered.  “Ah’ve already been vomited up by one piece o’ luggage today.”

“’Fore this afternoon, Ah’d have been inclined to ask you to explain that thar statement.”





The Gryffindor herd was having a nice, lazy supper when the owls came, delivering a special evening edition of the "Daily Prophet".  After receiving his, Percy took one look at the headline and said, “Sweetie!”

Sweetie Belle dropped the turkey leg she had been gnawing on and said, “Yeah, yeah. I know.  Just pass it down please.  I really need to get my own subscription.”

Harry silently put down his pumpkin juice, and Hermione scampered behind Sweetie to read over her shoulder.  “Black Freed from Azkaban and Belles Do the Impossible,” she read aloud for everyone to hear and shot Sweetie a questioning look.

“No,” Sweetie said, “I didn’t free anyone from an Azkaban.  I don’t even know what an Azkaban is.”

“It’s the wizard prison,” Percy said, coming to stand next to Hermione.  “Black was the man who betrayed Harry’s parents to You-Know-Who.”

“What?” Harry gave Percy his full and undivided attention.

“Didn’t you know?” Percy asked.  “He was the Dark Lord’s second in command.  He told the Dark Lord where to find your parents.  Then, if that weren't enough, he was in the process of hunting down another of his childhood friends when the aurors finally caught up with him -- unfortunately, not before he murdered a street full of muggles.  I can’t think of any good reason that the Ministry would free him; he must have escaped, and that’s very bad news.”

“Hurry up and read the story!” Harry said with a hint of anger coloring his voice.

Hermione complied and started reading, “'Editor's Note: Today we discovered that our fundamental truths are wrong.  The shocks have been both numerous and overwhelming.  In the end, we could not decide on a single lead story.  Instead, we shall start with a brief summary of all the news in our lead story, with references to the story in depth for each item.  In brief, Sirius Black had been released on his own recognizance due to the Ministry's violation of its own laws' . . ."  Hermione looked up and turned to Percy.  "It looks like he didn't escape after all."

“This is horrid news.”  Percy rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “Maybe Harry can use that old rite to claim retribution and get him thrown back into Azkaban.”

“That might be worth looking into,” Parvati agreed.  “We should see about getting a lawyer for Harry.”

“Is there any more about him?” Harry asked, gritting his teeth and fighting back tears.

‘Just a sec,” Hermione said flipping through pages.  “Here we go.  New Wizengamot member Alice Rutter proclaims Black's innocence, proves Ministry has violated his rights for a decade.  Yadda yadda, yadda yadda . . . Black's lawyer says Black is obsessed with ensuring Harry Potter's welfare?  He accuses Peter Pettigrew of the betrayal of Harry's parents.  Wait a minute! A 100,000 galleon reward for the capture and conviction of Peter Pettigrew for aiding and abetting the murders of James and Lily Potter?!"

“That doesn’t sound like a follower of You-Know-Who,” Lavender said.  “And I thought Peter was dead.”

“A hundred thousand galleons!” Ron gasped.  “You’d be set for life with that, you would.”

“I don’t care about the money!”  Harry all but shouted, “Someone has to be lying! I just want to know who killed my parents!”

Scootaloo came over and wrapped her arms around Harry in a heartfelt hug.  “We’ll help you find justice, no matter what,” she whispered.

“The Gryffindor herd stands with you,” Neville vowed, and his statement met a round of agreement from the rest of the first-years.

“Just to be certain,” Dean spoke up, “do any of the other stories have anything to do with Harry’s parents?”

Hermione quickly skimmed the editor's note.  “No, it’s just about our resurrection attempts.”  Then, her voice took on an appalled tone.  “And someone named Rarity Belle beat our headmaster to a pulp in an illegal duel and duffed up six aurors when they tried to break it up.”





Walking into the Ministry's atrium, Arthur Weasley saw the two women he wanted to talk to standing next the center statue, conversing with each other.

“She was more than willing to do as we asked," Arthur said as he walked up to Amelia Bones and Judge Brown.  “She seems remorseful that she’s caused us difficulties.”

“That’s good to hear.”  Amelia said, “We’ve avoided some very serious complications that we cannot afford right now.”

“It’s also good to hear that she’s sorry for attacking Dumbledore,” Judge Brown said.  “Not having to worry about her finishing what she started is a relief.”

“Oh no,” Arthur said with a shake of his head.  “She apologized for causing a scene and taking down the aurors.  I’m pretty sure she wants another go at Dumbledore.”

“Tell me again how Mr. Discord is the one we have to worry about," Amelia said to Judge Brown.





A flash of light heralded the newest additions to the occupants of the library.

A pink blur screamed.  “Rarity!”

“Oooooof!” Wham! Thump! Thump! Thump!

The bits of purple and white peeking out from under the blanket of pink spoke in a strained voice.  “Pinkie, darling, I am glad to see you as well . . . could you, please, get off me now?”

“Discord, welcome back.”  Fluttershy bashfully walked up to her friend.  “Thank you for helping Rarity.  I hope things didn’t get too hectic.  Did Rarity manage to civilly chastise the stallion she was mad at?"

Rainbow Dash looked down at the draconequus rolling on the floor laughing.  “Yeah,” she said, deadpan, “that’s not a good sign.”





“Time to fly! Time to fly!”

"Scoots,” Lavender snapped, “Change it up a bit.”

"Time to fly!  Kiss the sky!  Thread the needle through the eye!"

“Ah hope Madam Hooch doesn’t mind that we’re bringing ‘borrowed’ brooms instead of using the schools'.”  Apple Bloom watched Scootaloo bounce around the herd, gleefully waving her own broom as they walked down the halls.

“See the box?  Mind the walls!  Stay inside or take the fall.”

“Do you think she’ll mind the rest of us tagging along?” Harry asked, hefting one of the twins' brooms.  “We did get flying time second period after all.”

“Point to point, wing to wing, roll like clockwork with a spring.”

“I can’t believe Hermione decided to go to the library instead,” Dean said.

“See the rain cloud way up high?  Squeeze until you make it cry.”

“I can’t believe the Weasley brothers had eight Nimbus 2000’s just waiting around in their trunks,” Parvati said.  “That’s almost enough for each of us to ride one.”

“Find a thunderhead and churn.  Unleash the lightning; feel the burn.”

“We can take turns,” Sweetie said her hands empty as she had handed Seamus her own broom.  “Later, we can owl order more brooms, and all of us will have one next time.”

“Higher in the sky you sail.  Drop the hammer; hit the nail.”

“I don’t think the Weasley’s have that much room left in their trunks,” Harry noted.

“Climb up high until you stop.  Mind your tail when you drop.”

“So, we’ll get them new trunks first.”  Apple Bloom shrugged dismissively.

“Around and 'round and 'round you whirl.  Make a tube and shoot the curl.”

“The fact that you say that so casually is slightly troubling,” Parvati said.  “I think you might be missing a true appreciation for the value of a galleon.”

“Loop and loop and loop and tuck.  Show the cloverleaf for luck.  Spin like a maple seed on down.  Float like a thistle seed to ground."  Scootloo kept bouncing.

“That’s better.” Neville smiled gratefully as her chant ended.





“Hold that thought,” Twilight said. heading for the front door.  “Just let me see who it is.  I don’t want to miss any of this story.”

“Take your time,” Rarity said smiling at a protective and blushing Spike; he had been lavishing her with attention ever since she got back.  “We’ve just gotten Pinkie calmed down enough to listen.  A few more minutes to compose ourselves would not go unappreciated.”

“But,” Pinkie protested, “I was so worried about you!”

“Oh!  Princess Celestia!  Princess Luna!” Twilight said, surprised at whom she found on the other side of her door.  “I wasn’t expecting you.  Won’t you come in?”

“Hello Twilight, my faithful student.”  The distinct, motherly voice of Celestia wafted into the main room as the mare herself soon followed.  “I was hoping to find Discord here.  I would like him to take us to have a few words with somepony.”

“I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said.  “You just missed him.  He said something about needing to have a conversation with a new friend.”

“Discord is continuing to make new friends?” Celestia said with a knowing smile on her face.  “That is most pleasing news.”

“He was also singing some weird song about playing a silver ball,” Applejack noted, “an’ a deaf dumb blind kid.  Maybe that thar 'Tommy' is the new friend he was talking about.”

“You can never tell with him,” Celestia said, “but his efforts to make friends on his own is a step in the right direction.”

“Princess Celestia?”

“Yes Pinkie?” Celestia answered patiently.

“Why are you and Princess Luna wearing full barding and your greatswords?”





“I see you’re all ready to go,” Madam Hooch said as she entered the courtyard full of students, “and you brought your own brooms?”

“We borrowed them from the Weasley brothers,” Sweetie offered helpfully as she selected one of the school brooms for her ride, while Magah once again began cropping up grass.

Madam Hooch openly laughed at the student, “Girl! Don’t think you lot are the first to use that particular loophole.  No upper-year is going to let a bunch of first years borrow a Nimbus, let alone eight, without something happening in the background.”

“You’re not angry?” Parvati asked also selecting a school broom.

“As long as you keep passing grades, I’ll not raise a fuss,” the flying instructor said.  “If I hear tell of just one of you slacking, I’ll confiscate the lot of them, no matter who says they own them.”

As one, the group turned to look at Ron, who gulped audibly.

“Consider it an incentive, boy,” Madam Hooch said, noting the looks.

Ron quickly nodded his acceptance.

“And you, girl,” Madam Hooch focused her attention on Apple Bloom, “a school broom might be a good idea for you; that one you are holding is more of a handful than you’re ready for.”

“Me an’ this broom have an understanding,” Apple Bloom said with a small shake of her head.

“Oh?” Madam Hooch asked.

“Yeah; it don’t buck me an’ I don’t turn it into kindling.”

Madam Hooch chuckled and said, “We’ll see.  Okay now, all of you mount your brooms like I showed you earlier.”

“Waaahoooo!”  There was a distinct red shift as the voice faded into the background.

“That wasn’t permission to lift off!” Madam Hooch shouted at the receding black and purple blur.

“Save your breath,” Ginny advised.  “Once she’s in the air, she’s in a world of her own.”

“How long has she been flying like that?”  Madam Hooch watched as Scootaloo began her aerial ballet.

“What day is it?” Sweetie asked.

“Tuesday,” Madam Hooch said.

“Then it’s been a week.”  Ron shrugged.  “She’s a natural.”

“I hope you’re not expecting us to do that,” Lavender said in awe.

“No, no.”  Madam Hooch shook her head. “She’s already pulled three impossible moves -- literally impossible.  What she’s doing is beyond me.  What she’s doing is beyond professional quidditch level.  What she's doing is beyond any witch or wizard, ever.”

“I can just sit and watch her for hours,” Ron admitted.

The class's eyes followed Scootaloo’s antics as she continued to waltz across the sky.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “you could sell tickets for this.”

After watching for a couple minutes more, Madam Hooch said, “Okay, the rest of you, mount your brooms; let’s give this another try.”





“You seem to have had a very busy day,” Princess Celestia said looking at Rarity, “first your new trunk, then a foray into the heart of an alien government.”

“Truly a notable occasion,” Luna added.  “In one afternoon, thou hast managed to assault one of their head officials -- spectacularly, in the center of their very seat of power.  Then, thou didst in due course lay waste to several of their peace keepers.”

“Then,” Princess Celestia continued, “instead of punishment, you received a polite request to leave their country and to not come back until you could behave properly.”

“A request motivated by their desire not to incite an international incident,” Luna noted.

“I must say,” Celestia stated, “I find that we are greatly disappointed.”

“Indeed!” Luna agreed.  “Did thou not think we would wish to accompany thou?  Now, we need wait for the scoundrel to mend before we may have a significant conversation.”

“Yes,” Celestia said, “it would appear that we got all dressed up for nothing.”





Professor McGonagall was waiting for the first-years when they reentered the castle.  “I do hope you behaved for Madam Hooch,” she said passing a stern gaze over the collection of students, “I hear your earlier attempts left much room for improvement.”

The children nodded their heads and Ginny said, “Apple Bloom managed to stay upright the entire time.”

“Ah’m getting better,” Apple Bloom agreed.  “It jus’ took some practice.”

“Very good.”  Professor McGonagall allowed a thin smile to pass her lips.  “Now, if you all would follow me, you have garnered the attention of the Ministry and they have sent some representatives to ask you some questions and, maybe, witness a demonstration.”

“A demonstration?” Harry asked, shrinking behind Magah.

“Yes,” Professor McGonagall said, “Miss Granger is already with them and has gathered the needed materials.  They would request that you repeat your performance with Miss Warren.  I assume you will be needing your phoenix, but I don’t see her.”

“I had her deliver a quick message to Rarity,” Sweetie said.  “I almost forgot about it, but she should be back soon.”





“Well,” Rainbow Dash said as Princess Celestia nuzzled her pet in greeting, “what does it say?”

“Let’s see,” Rarity said unfurling the scroll.  “'Dear Rarity, You are having way too much fun with that trunk.'”

“Y’all need to work with her on her definition of fun,” Applejack insisted.





“I’m glad the twins showed up to take the brooms,” Seamus said as they entered an unused classroom to find Hermione and three others waiting.  “Saves us from lugging them around.”

“I think they wanted to grill us over our flying lessons,” Sweetie said noticing that Hermione was accompanied by two wizards and a witch.

“Children,” Professor McGonagall said, ushering the rest of the students and unicorn into the room then closing the door behind herself, “this is Mr. Croaker.  He has some questions for you.”

One of the wizards stepped forward and said, “I am so glad to see you all tonight.  You’ve performed a remarkable feat of magic that has the potential of helping many individuals.  We’d like to record the details for the betterment of all of wizarding kind.”

Parvati shuffled her feet, “Shouldn’t we wait for Philomena to get back first?  She danced around the ritual circle the first two times; it may be important.”

“That’s not really part of the instructions,” Hermione objected as she gave the chalked circle in the middle of the room one more inspection.

“She’s a phoenix,” Parvati said.

“It really wasn’t dancing,” Dean noted, “It was more like hopping and bobbing her head.”

“She’s a phoenix.” Parvati repeated.

“How important could it possibly be?” Ron asked.

“Hello!” Parvati said.  “Phoenix acting oddly right before bringing the dead back to life?!  I hope I’m not the only one here that thinks that it might be important.”

“You're right,” Hermione conceded.  “We should wait for Philomena.”

“Try to do everything exactly how you did it before,” Mr. Croaker encouraged as he studied the setup Hermione had arranged.  “With rituals, little details matter.”

“Don’t forget the doll,” Dean said nodding.

“What?” Scootaloo asked.  "We didn’t have a doll last time."

“Never mind.”  Dean shook his head.

Magah stood next to a wall, watching the proceedings and nervously tapping her forehooves as she drank in all the details.

“Any idea how long until your phoenix returns?” the unnamed witch asked taking notes as she watched.

There was a flash of flames and the bird in question appeared.

“Em-peek-able timing.”  Scootaloo grinned widely.

“Impeccable.”  Sweetie Belle and Hermione automatically corrected.

“That’s what she said,” chimed Harry, Neville, Dean, Lavender and Ginny before Scootaloo opened her mouth.

Philomena took one look at the circle on the floor, trilled and landed next to it.  She then proceeded to hop around it, bobbing her head the entire time.

“See?”  Parvati pointed, “Tell me that’s not important.”

“Needing a phoenix does significantly limit the availability of this ritual,” Mr. Croaker said frowning and the witch taking notes scribbled on her scroll furiously.

“Where’s the victim?” Dean asked, looking around for a ghost.

“I am right here,” a woman said, floating through the back wall of the classroom.  “I was just waiting my summons.”

“Thank you for participating, Helena.”  Professor McGonagall inclined her head at the ghost.

“This is too great of an opportunity to pass up.”  The ghost smiled in return.  “It is worth the risk.”

Suddenly, Magah whinnied loudly, staring at the newly appeared ghost.  After screaming, the unicorn rushed over to the closed door and turned.  The door was thoroughly bucked, twice.  It flew off its hinges.  The equine then escaped through the opening.

“My unicorn isn’t that great,” Seamus said, “but that was obviously ‘Ah hell no!’”

“Language, Mr. Finnigan,” Professor McGonagall admonished.

“Sorry,” Seamus said.

Magah trotted back into the room, grabbed Sweetie Belle by the collar of her robe and exited once again, dragging the girl with her.

“Hey!” Sweetie yelled as she was forced to exit.

“Um,” Neville said, “I didn’t see that coming.”

Magah trotted back into the room, grabbed Hermione by her robe’s collar then left the room once more.

“I don’t think she likes this ritual,” Harry observed.

Magah trotted back into the room and left again.

“Hey!  That thar bow is connected to mah mane!”

“That looked painful,” Parvati observed.

Magah trotted back in and out again.

“Ow! Ow!” Ginny complained, “I’m coming. I’m coming. Don’t pull.”

“Yup,” Parvati said, heading for the door on her own, “we have an established pattern.”

Magah trotted back in and grabbed Neville.

The rest of the children followed her out, not wanting to be dragged.

The remaining wizard who had yet to say anything opened his mouth and said, “Never in my life have I ever thought I’d say this, but it looks like the resurrection is called on account of unicorn.”
> Chapter 25: Paperwork
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The melodic chime of the doorbell reminded Emma Granger how much she hated Wednesdays. All the difficult cases seemed to crop up on that day, and it would not surprise her at all if it were some poor sod in need of an emergency root canal waiting at the door. The first rays of dawn underscored the fact that the day was much too young for civil visitations. Whoever was calling had to be either an enormous prat or the bearer of horrendous news.

Blearily, she put a bloodshot eye to the peephole. It took a moment to register that the caller was not in fancy dress. Suddenly fully alert, she unbolted the door and threw it open.

“Professor McGonagall!” Emma drew in a sharp, worried breath. “Is Hermione all right?”

The stress of the past few days had clearly taken its toll on the Gryffindor Head of House; the witch looked like something from a horror movie as she answered, "Hermione is doing well." She paused to rub her eyes. "I apologize for the ghastly hour, but I was just going over my backlog of messages. Your letter deserved a speedy and personal reply, and, unfortunately, this was the only opening in my schedule for the next two weeks when I had any chance of catching you while you were at home and awake."

“I see.” Emma moved to the side to invite the older woman in. “In that case I appreciate you taking the time to reply so promptly. I was just about to have my first cup of coffee for the day, before waking Dan. Won’t you join me?”

“I’m afraid I simply do not have the time.” Minerva gratefully entered the tidy home. “I am here to assure you that Hogwarts does not teach necromancy on any level. Despite how routine Madam Pomfrey’s notice may have made them seem, resurrections are not a common occurrence in the magical world. In fact, the children made the front page of last night’s news as a result of their efforts.”

“Hermione made the news?” The revelation brought Emma beyond full wakefulness. “My daughter is in the news?”

“The names of the children involved have not been officially released.” Minerva shook her head. “However, the reporter had assumed that both Harry Potter and Sweetie Belle had something to do with the incident.  It just so happens that their assumption is correct.”

“So,” Emma said hopefully, “no necromancy then?”

“No necromancy,” Minerva agreed.

“Then, I don’t have to worry about my daughter raising a vampire at school?”

Minerva dismissed the idea. “The wards would have a very nasty effect on any attempts to create a vampire.”

Emma gave the witch a scrutinizing gaze trying to decide whether she was joking. “Vampires are real?”

“Yes,” Minerva answered, “why wouldn’t they be?”

“Next you’ll be telling me werewolves are real, too.”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Minerva reassured her.

Emma sighed. “Then you’ll be telling me dragons were real, too.”

“I seem to recall that your daughter’s wand's core is made of Ironbelly heartstring,” Minerva said.

“So?”

“The Ukrainian Ironbelly is a species of dragon,” Minerva informed Emma.

“Is?” Emma knitted her brows in surprise. “As in present tense?”

“Yes.”

Emma pause and thought. “Fairies?”

“There hasn’t been a confirmed sighting in a couple centuries.” Minerva waved a dismissive hand. “Though, there are some families that most likely still have fairy blood.”

“Manticores?”

“Extinct.”

“Boogeymen?”

“Boggarts,” Minerva confirmed. “Annoying pests.”

“Honest politician?”

“Now you’re just being flippant,” Minerva scolded, “asking me about something you know can’t possibly exist.”

“It was worth the try,” Emma justified.

“Shall we return to the subject at hand?” Minerva firmly squashed a giggle. “The children have used a previously unknown spell in an astonishing manner. Even though there are other possibilities on how they managed to obtain it, one avenue that must be investigated lies in your family.”

“How so?” Emma asked

“Yours would not be the first magical family to be descended from an estranged squib,” Minerva said. “There have been tomes of family magic unobtrusively passed down through the generations, in such a manner, before. I say this because the children were less than forthcoming on the origin of the spell, and they were looking to Hermione to lead and explain it.”

“You think she brought the spell to school with her?”

“It is feasible. I’m also here to ask you if you have any strange family heirlooms that I might inspect.” Minerva said, “Of course, I would take nothing and read none of what may be private family tomes, but an assessment must be made.”

“Strange family heirlooms?” Emma said. Massaging her temples, she continued. “Like, I don’t know, maybe, an old, shabby chest that no one can open and should have probably have been thrown out ages ago instead of taking up space in the attic?”

“That does sound promising,” Minerva agreed.





In the hour when Celestia took over for her sister, only a dedicated few ponies were in the marketplace square, like farm ponies. The big red one who was pulling his family’s market cart was earlier than normal. It was his turn to ply his family's wares.

Another stallion was already setting up the adjacent stall when the gentle giant pulled up.  Pausing his unloading of asparagus, Tender Shoot greeted the newcomer. “Morning, Big Mac. I see you’re getting an early start as well.”

“Morning,” Big Mac replied as he unhitched himself from the wagon.

Not expecting more in the way of conversation, Tender Shoot returned to unloading his wares.

Before long, a large owl silently swooped down and landed on the apple cart.

Recognizing the bird, Big Mac said, “Morning.”

“Hooo!”

“Did you make the delivery?” Big Mac asked.

The owl bobbed its head nonchalantly. “Hooo.”

Big Mac trotted up to the bird and reached his whole head into a pouch strapped to the owl’s chest. Seconds later, he pulled it out, holding a large bag of bits. “Thank you kindly,” he said around the bag.

“Hoo.”

Tender Shoot looked over and asked, “You have an owl that brings you bits?”

Big Mac nodded his head as he noticed a rune etched on the owl’s pouch was glowing slightly. Sighing, the large stallion reached out with a hoof, touched the pouch, and said, “Ex dimittere.”

“Baaaaarrrrfffff!”

Ears turned forward as far as they would go and eyes wide open, Tender Shoot said, “You have an owl that brings you bits and pretty young mares? Where do I get one for myself?”





In the stark light of the naked bulb, the two women curiously looked down at the old, battered trunk in the musty, dark attic.

“That’s a descendant’s blood rune,” Minerva stated.

Emma looked at her questioningly.

“It means only a descendant of the chest’s owner can open it, and that descendant must be able to channel magic.”

“So? Jackpot?” Emma asked.

“One way or another, yes,” Minerva acknowledged. Then, after waving her wand over the object, she voiced her findings. “It has minor compulsions on it. ‘Don’t get rid of me.’ ‘Don’t think about me.’ ‘Don’t try and force me open.’ That sort of thing.”

“Hermione got a book on necromancy out of it?”

“That is looking more and more probable every second,” Minerva allowed.

“It’s going in the rubbish,” Emma said grimly.

“We don’t know for certain that this is the source.” Minerva shook her head. “This is part of your heritage and should not be discarded so casually. I recommend that you have Hermione open it for you with a trained auror present, both to protect against dark magic and to analyze the contents for anything dangerous, magical or otherwise.”

“Yeah, but necromancy,” Emma firmly reiterated.

“All the more reason to dispose of it properly,” Minerva insisted. “Moody owes me a favor; I’m sure I can convince him to escort Hermione home for a short visit. Let’s say this Sunday?”

“The sooner the better,” Emma said, still eyeing the chest.





“I’m sooo sorry!” The plum mare with a mauve tail and mane wailed, “I know the letter said to just open the first flap for our apples, but I just couldn’t resist. I had to see if the other flaps were as big as the first!”

“Eeeeyup.” Big Mac said in a measured tone.

“I suppose that’s a security feature, stops nosey ponies like me.”

“Eeeeyup.”

“I think I’m in Ponyville,” the mare continued. “Did that owl bring me all the way to Ponyville?”

“Eeeeyup.”

“And you're Big Mac; you bring my family apples all the time. Now you got the owl to do the job?”

“Eeeeyup.”

“And now that you’ve foalnapped me you’re going to drag me off somewhere and have your way with me?”

“Eeee . . . nnnnope?” Big Mac said.

“Darn.” The disappointed mare stomped her forehoof on the ground. “I thought I was on a roll there."

Big Mac just stared at the mare in shock.

“Are you sure you don’t want to rethink your last answer?” she asked as she sidled up beside him.





The wizard approached the goblin bank anxiously. He had been putting off this visit for a couple days now. The insanity that had been the Wizengamot session had been his excuse.  However, he could put this off no longer. He had to get answers.

He waited impatiently in line for those who had arrived before him to be serviced. Soon he was standing before a teller.

“How may I help you today?” the goblin asked gruffly.

“I’ve received some strange correspondences from the bank recently,” the wizard said, handing over a letter. “I’m not exactly sure what’s happening.”

The goblin read the letter and said, “Ah yes, Tricksno has been looking forward to talking to you.” Summoning a runner, the teller continued, “Please follow Railrun here, Mr. Weasley.”





The pink filly was in a sour mood. She had heard some troubling news, very troubling news that just wasn’t fair, news that had no right to be true. How could that blank flank have something she didn’t?  How could that blank flank have what she wanted but notably lacked? It just wasn’t fair. No, having to eat brussels sprouts for supper wasn’t fair; this new predicament was inequity on a whole new level.  She didn’t even have a word for just how wrong it was.

Unwilling to sulk in silence any longer, she lashed out at the brown stallion sitting at the head of the breakfast table, reading the newspaper. “Daddy! It isn’t fair! It just isn’t fair!”

“What’s not fair?” the stallion asked, ruffling his newspaper slightly.

“She’s got a marriage contract!” the filly wailed. “Sweetie Belle has a valid marriage contract!”

“I know, dear. I was here when our butler relayed the news. He overheard Princess Celestia talking about it with the Element Bearers on the way to her chariot.”

“It’s not fair!” the filly repeated loudly.

“It is a curious situation.” The stallion put down his paper to pay more attention to his daughter.

“I want one too!” The filly leaned back in her chair, grouchily crossing her forelegs with a frown.





Minerva just had a few more items to clear up before heading to breakfast. One was an unusual request, delivered by phoenix, no less. Well, it was less a request and more a question on proper spells to be introduced to first years. It was a pity she hadn’t read this letter before talking to Mrs. Granger; it would have changed the tone of the entire exchange.

She was just signing her name to the reply when there was a knock on her door. With a wave of her wand she admitted the visitor. “Good morning, Miss Dunbar,” she greeted.

“Good morning, Professor McGonagall,” the prefect returned stopping just inside the office door. “I just have a quick item that’s been bothering me, one of those ‘I wish I had handled it differently’ things. It’s probably nothing, but the other night the subject of acromantulas being in the forbidden forest came up with the first-year girls, and they seemed a little too interested for comfort. It’s probably nothing, but I can’t shake the feeling that I should bring it to you.”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall said. “Thank you for bring this to my attention.”

“I’m sorry to bother you for something so petty,” Fay said, heading back out the door. “I’ll stop pestering you now.”

“You’re not pestering me,” Professor McGonagall reassured her even as the door started to close.

Frowning to herself, Minerva looked down at the letter she had been writing. This was not the first time that Fay Dunbar had said something that made her want to rethink her opinion of divination. Shaking her head to dismiss the thought, Minerva waved her wand over the letter, vanishing the ink. With a new perspective, she started over.





For once, the Gryffindor table wasn’t the main focus at breakfast; that honor had been relinquished to the Ravenclaws. Admittedly, it takes a lot to trump a phoenix and a unicorn. Normally, a third-year girl would not be able to accomplish this feat. However, a third-year girl who had previously been a ghost managed to be the most interesting phenomenon in the great hall that morning.

“You need to slow down,” one of the Ravenclaw prefects said to her. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I haven’t been sick in ages,” Myrtle replied. “I haven’t had oatmeal in longer than you’ve been alive. And the omelettes! Can’t you just taste that hint of pepper? And the bacon, I swear everything’s better with bacon.”

“That’s it,” the prefect said. “I’m cutting you off for your own good. Who do you think you are? Apple Bloom or Ron Weasley?”

“But . . . going to the loo afterwards is so much fun.”

“Too much information!” the prefect said. “Just too much information!”





 “I can’t believe she wants to see us so early.” Rainbow Dash yawned loudly as she flapped alongside her friend.

“Everything before noon is early for y’all,” Applejack said, smiling at her friend’s irritation.

“The sun is barely up,” Rainbow complained. “There’re still a few good hours of sleep to be had.”

“Ah’m sure you’ll schedule a nap to make up what y’all lost.”

“You’d better beli . . .” Rainbow started, but was interrupted by a large red blur galloping down the road.

“Come back here and fulfill your obligations as a foalnapper!” a plum colored mare in hot pursuit demanded.

“Nnnnope! Nope! Nope! Nope!”

“Am I still dreaming?” Rainbow asked, staring after the spectacle.

“Nnnope,” Applejack said with her eyes half lidded.

“Errr,” Rainbow Dash asked hesitantly, “aren’t you going to help him?”

“He’s a big stallion,” Applejack answered.

“Yeah, but,” Rainbow said, “that’s probably the cause of his current problems in the first place.”

Applejack shot Rainbow Dash a startled look.

“What? Size matters.” Rainbow guiltily clapped her front hooves together. “You can’t possibly think I hadn’t noticed.”





“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Arthur Weasley said to the goblin sitting behind the desk. Already the encounter was going unlike anything he had expected. Upon taking his seat, a goblin had brought in a tray with a tea set and morning pastries. The polite goblin then asked if he’d fancied some tea. Arthur had never heard of goblins offering tea before, not even to their wealthiest clients. For that matter, he’d never heard the words "polite" and "goblin" used in the same sentence before, at least not in any sentence that didn’t have a qualifier like "not" or "absolutely not" or even "are you kidding me".

“This meeting is overdue,” Tricksno, the goblin behind the desk stated. “But first, let me address your confusion over the tea. As you may know, we have regular interaction with our muggle counterparts in the banking profession, squibs and muggles with knowledge of the statute. Unlike wizards, they treat us as equals and regularly offer us tea and such during the course of business. The young ladies who opened your newest vaults showed much the same respect. That, coupled with your previous good will toward non-wizard individuals, both politically and in your private actions, has led us to hesitantly extend the same courtesy.”

Arthur blinked in shock before saying, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you consider me worth the effort. I hope this can be the beginning of a new era of understanding between our two people.”

“Don’t overplay it,” Tricksno said. “You’re starting to sound like a politician.”

“Sorry,” Arthur said and took a sip of tea to demonstrate his appreciation.

“To the business at hand.” The goblin picked up a parchment to read. “Even though your wards indicated an agreement to use expense accounts with year limits, they are still using their main vault keys to make purchases. Just this morning two major transactions have been filed in such a manner, one for the trunk maker they seem to favor and another for Quality Quidditch Supplies. There is also a negligible transaction for two one-year subscriptions to the "Daily Prophet". While not a significant incursion on your finances, they do defeat the purpose of expense accounts.” Tricksno turned the parchment to show Arthur.

Arthur took a long sip from the tea as he read.

“Since this is likely an oversight, I have taken the liberty of transferring the expenses from the appropriate account, and to provide this box of keys linked to the discretionary vaults of all family members.” Tricksno continued opening a box that had been sitting on his desk. “As you can see,” he said, starting to read the name tags attached to the individual keys, “one for you, one for your wife, one for each child -- Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Percy Weasley, Charles Weasley, Apple Bloom, Scoot Aloo, Sweetie Belle -- and finally one for household expenses. William Weasley has already claimed his key.”

“And the girls authorized this?” Arthur asked.

“Right after they signed their forms acknowledging the Weasley clan they agreed to a 10,000 galleon a year allowance for all members,” Tricksno informed him. “Now that we have gotten that little problem out of the way, we here at Gringotts would be interested in purchasing the remaining gems you have stored in your vault.” He leaned forward and offered a goblin’s equivalence of a grin. “We are willing to offer a most favorable price.” He handed Arthur another piece of parchment.

Wide eyed, Arthur choked on the rest of his tea.





Entering the library, Rainbow Dash noticed a familiar tan mare with a foal’s bottle and rattle cutie mark talking to Rarity, Spike, Twilight, and, for some reason, Pinkie Pie.

“Is everything okay?” the cyan mare asked, worry coloring her voice. “Nothing’s going spectacularly wrong?”

“Not that I know of,” Rarity said. “All I know is the mayor asked us to meet to discuss some paperwork the girls submitted.”

“That’s all?” Applejack asked. “Here Ah was afraid that Twilight had gotten a reply back from the school and it turns out the spiders they war talking about turned out to be some giant monster spiders hiding out in some spot that fillies are not supposed to go.”

“Now you’re just being silly.”  Pinkie Pie chuckled at the farm mare.

The tan mare addressed Rainbow Dash. “You needn’t worry that I’m here. Your application is well on its way; you have impeccable references.”

“Oh?” Rarity asked, looking at Rainbow Dash. “What application and whom did you use for references?”

“Well, I used you, and Twilight, and Fluttershy and Applejack, of course,” Rainbow Dash admitted, “but I suspect it’ll be a while before I hear anything back.”

The tan mare said, “Princess Celestia took it upon herself to add herself to your references.”

“That’ll do it,” Applejack said as Mayor Mare entered the library. “Whatever your application is for is as good as granted.”

“Good morning,” Mayor Mare said drawing everypony’s attention. “I know it’s early but, I think this is something I should bring to your immediate attentions.”

“That thar is not what ah want to be hearing firs' thing in the morning,” Applejack said warily.

“The Crusaders have done something.” The mayor searched for the right words. “Something extremely surprising.”

“At this point, I’m not sure that there is anything those three could do anymore that would be surprising,” Twilight said shaking her head. “They’ve already redefined what 'surprising' is.”

The mayor smirked as she hoofed a scroll over to Twilight.

Sighing at being singled out, Twilight accepted the scroll and unfurled it to read. As her eyes traversed the paper, they grew wider, and her ears pivoted forward. Twilight started hyperventilating, and there may or may not have been a little foam coming from her mouth. Desperately, she attempted to regain control of her breathing, but her attempt at a saving throw resulted in critical failure.

*Thump!*

Everypony in the room stared as the scroll fluttered to the ground.

“Well,” Spike quipped, “obviously she stands corrected.”

“Silly Spike,” Pinkie Pie said with a flip of her mane, “that’s obviously not standing. That’s not even remotely close to standing.”

“Aaa, umm,” Spike said, bringing his hand to cover his face, “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“No,” Rainbow said, “you galloped into it full tilt.”

“Ah’m going to have to sit down for this one ain’t Ah,” Applejack said sitting on her haunches. “Ah’ve been having to do that a lot lately.”

Frowning, Rarity levitated the scroll so she could read it. A little while later, she sat wide eyed as she levitated the scroll over to Applejack without a word.

“Hoo boy,” Applejack said, sticking her muzzle in the scroll to read. A little while later, she threw a hoof in the air and exclaimed, “Way to go Apple Bloom! That’s mah girl!”

“So?” the tan mare said, accepting the scroll next. “It’s good news then?” A little while later she wobbled and fell to her knees. Just like Twilight, she started to hyperventilate.

“Do you think she’s going to . . .” Spike asked.

*Thump!*

“She did,” Rainbow answered.

“Hey!” Pinkie Pie said, scandalized. “Isn’t that normally Rarity’s line?”

“She’s still in shock,” Rainbow said pointing to the unmoving white mare. “Somepony had to pick up the slack.”

“I suppose you have a good excuse,” Pinkie Pie huffed.

“Whelp,” Rainbow said reaching for the scroll, “I guess it’s my turn.” A little while later, she looked up from the scroll and blinked; then she returned her muzzle, rereading to make certain she had read right the first time. “Do you suppose they got their conpony cutie marks for this?” she asked.

Pinkie Pie snatched the scroll, impatient for her turn. A little while later she said, “How could they do this? Even Princess Celestia couldn’t do this and she’s . . . she’s . . . she’s Princess Celestia!”

“Ooooo.” Twilight groaned lifting her head. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Applejack answered.

“What? Why?” Twilight knitted her brows trying to remember. “I thought I read . . .”

“You did,” Rarity said absently, still staring forward.

“Yeah!” Pinkie Pie hoped up and down excitedly, “Rarity’s almost recovered.”

Mayor Mare said, "My job here is done. Good day, gentlemares." With that, she left with a broad smile on her face. This was definitely worth the lost night of sleep.

“But . . . but!” Twilight’s voice raised an octave. “How!”

“I don’t know,” Rainbow said, “but when the Crusaders explain this one, I’m taking detailed notes.”





The young auror was bored already as he watched the crowd. They had just set up the goblet in the Ministry's antechamber to receive nominations, and a line had formed even before they started allowing submissions. Witches and wizards were patiently waiting for their turn to toss a piece of paper into the vessel. Anyone could submit any name they desired. The magic of the goblet was binding whether the winner wanted the position or not. It was designed to select the best applicant based on the parameters supplied.

Completely disinterested, the auror watched a wizard in a dapper brown business suit toss an orange piece of paper into the goblet.

The Wizengamot had voted on the traits needed to be chosen.  Having to be pureblood had been voted down handily. They had ended up demanding intelligence, loyalty to the wizarding public above loyalty to one’s pocketbook, intelligence, a desire to see improvements happen, intelligence, being unintimidated by wizards in power, and intelligence. After a heated debate, they also threw in non-evil alignment . . . and intelligence. Hopefully, the new minister would be better than the last. Though in retrospect, that, by itself, set the bar rather low.





With a little urging, they managed to wake the tan mare and help her to her hooves. “That’s the most unique herd agreement I have ever read,” she said once she was fully coherent. “Is it even legal?”

Still shaky on her own hooves, Twilight answered, “Technically no. Until they have a ratio of at least two mares for every stallion it’s not completely binding. They have until four years after their majority to meet that requirement, though. A ratio of three to one would be considered better.”

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash made a dismissive wave of her hoof. “We all know how that conversation is going to go.” Her voice took a higher pitch as she continued. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice that your clothing indicates you have a lot of bits. You see, we’re looking for a few mares to round out our herd and you look like a perfect candidate. So, if you don’t mind following me to the town hall we can get you added right away. No? did I mention that we already have five stallions? Okay! Okay, don’t rush me, the town hall isn’t going to close for hours; we have plenty of time to get you added.”

“She has a point,” Applejack admitted.

Pinkie Pie counted on her hooves. Under her breath, she muttered, "Just three more." “I wonder if they’ll be accepting older mares into their herd,” Pinkie Pie mused as she looked up.

Everypony in the room turned to stare at her.

“What?” she asked. “You were all thinking it.”

They continued to stare.

“Don’t try telling me you weren’t,” Pinkie Pie said.

Nopony said anything.  The guilty looks were purely imagined.

“Look!” Rainbow Dash said desperately. “You’ve got mail!”

“Rainbow, you can’t see through a wooden door any better than I can,” Twilight admonished.

“Open the door,” Rainbow insisted.

Twilight sighed and complied; surprisingly an owl flew in, offered Twilight a letter and immediately left without any fuss.

“Thank you!” Twilight yelled after the speeding owl. Then turning to Rainbow Dash, she asked, “You saw an owl through a closed door?”

“Actually,” Rainbow corrected, “I heard him through it.”

“You heard an owl flying through a closed door?” Rarity asked.

“I had motivation,” Rainbow insisted.

This time everypony stared at her.

“Okay, okay,” Rainbow confessed, “he hooted for attention. You guys were just too lost in your thoughts to notice.”

Rolling her eyes Twilight opened the letter.

“The first pony to make mention that thar is no way this here letter could be more surprising than what we’ve already witnessed today, gets bucked,” Applejack warned.

Everypony chuckled nervously at the little joke.

“Umm,” Twilight said and put the letter back in its envelope, “okay.”

Rarity sighed and asked, “What does it say, darling?”

“Um,” Twilight repeated.

“Y’all see me,” Applejack said. “Ah’m sitting my flank down; now spill it.”

“Um,” Twilight said.

“You are only making it worse,” Rarity said following Applejack's lead and sitting on her haunches.

Twilight sighed. “They want the spider killing spell for giant killer monster spiders inside a forbidden forest,” she blurted.

There was a pause. Then, Pinkie Pie smiled and exclaimed, “Ha ha! You had me for a minute there. That was a good one, taking what Applejack said earlier and turning it into a joke. You almost had me. Good prank.”

Twilight stared at Pinkie Pie without a smile on her face.

“Wait,” Pinkie Pie said, her own smile sliding from her face. “You’re not joking? Are you?”

Twilight slowly shook her head.

Turning to Applejack, Pinkie Pie said, “That’s it! You are no longer allowed to make predictions.”

 
> Chapter 26: From Every Angle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their heavy black robes did little to hide the stink of exhaustion as the Gryffindor herd shuffled slowly through the portal into the common room.  It was all Sweetie Belle could do to refuse Magah's offer.  Most of her classmates looked on with envy as the large unicorn attempted to maneuver her head under the flagging student.

In a chipper tone, Apple Bloom said, "Ah'm glad that's the last class for the day; I really worked up mah appetite."

With similar vigor, Dean replied, "I know what you mean.  I could eat a horse."

Ron and all of the native girls stopped and looked on in horror.  Dean looked back and asked, "Was it something I said?"

As she bounced impatiently, Scootaloo said, "Come on! He said 'horse', not 'pony'."

With an agonizing groan, the herd started moving again.

“I can’t believe we have to exercise during double defense!” Lavender complained as she collapsed onto a couch.  “I know he said it would be harder than normal, but really?  Having us run around like that?”

“It war only four laps around the Quidditch pitch,” Apple Bloom said encouragingly.  “It warn’t nothing. Soon, you’ll be doing that without thinking of it.”

“You lapped us!” Parvati protested.  “Twice!”

“We can’t help it you were going so slow,” Scootaloo said, sitting next to Harry as he poured himself onto the same couch.

“Scoots,” Seamus said, finding a vacant chair, “you have just way too much energy.  Just watching you and Apple run like that was exhausting.”

“Thar’s nothing like good old-fashioned exercise to get the blood flowing,” Apple Bloom said.  Sweetie Belle gave a half-hearted growl in response.

“At least Sweetie isn’t as bad as you two,” Ginny said, plopping down onto Harry’s lap.

“Hey,” Harry protested weakly at the extra weight, but Ginny just snuggled closer.

“Now you know what I have to put up with all the time,” Sweetie said, ignoring the chairs as she collapsed onto the rug in front of the couch.

“Oh good,” Fay said, entering the portal.  “You're all here!”

“We just got here,” Parvati confirmed, leaning against Magah.”

“Professor McGonagall wants the lot of you in her office right away,” Fay informed them.

“Does she want us to try another resurrection?” Hermione groaned, begrudgingly regaining her feet.  “I think Magah is still wary of the whole idea.”

“No.” Fay shook her head.  “I’m pretty sure you’re in trouble for something this time.”





There were grim looks on the faces of the goblins sitting around the large stone table.  Despite the opulent trappings in the bright cavern, the air itself seemed to flinch from their collective bad humor.

“Contact him again.”  The goblin in the largest chair ordered, “Remind him of the help the goblin nation has offered his clan in the past, in the form of loans.  Add another 5% to the offered price.  I don’t care; get those gems.  I want them in goblin hands before the week is out.”

“He seemed impressed by our original offer.”  Tricksno was standing several feet from the table with the attention of every goblin in the room firmly focused on his every word.  “But, he insisted that he needed to talk to the girls before he could accept.”

“You have until the end of the week,” the leader emphasized with a snarl.

“Yes Overseer!”  Tricksno nodded hastily.  “I’ll have the objects you desire by then.”

“What of the other seven?!” the Overseer demanded, dismissing the presence of the account manager.

“Four are once again in our possession,” another goblin at the table said.  “Two are currently part of the reparations awarded at the wizards' last government meeting.  Since the wizards are letting us take care of those transactions, it shouldn’t be that hard to switch them out for their galleon value once they sort out who is getting exactly what.  The current owner of the last one is being recalcitrant.”

“Find leverage to make him more responsive.”

“Yes Overseer.”

Suddenly, a runner dashed into the chamber and stopped a respectable distance from the assembled management.  The goblin was young and very low on the totem pole.  He visibly trembled where he stood waiting to be acknowledged, and a sharp smell let every goblin present know that he had wet himself.

“Yes?” the Overseer asked angrily; some goblin had sent a neophyte to deliver news instead of delivering it themselves.  Such a grievous breach of protocol could only mean that the news was far from pleasant.  There was a coward in the ranks.

The junior goblin began to shake even more violently as he reported, “Overseer, a team was moving the four newly-obtained gems to the deep vaults.  When they were passing the prime dragon, she broke her chains, ignored her handlers, and ate them.”

“The prime dragon ate a transfer team?” the Overseer asked in disbelief.

The goblin was now quaking so fiercely that ripples were appearing in the puddle forming at his feet.  “No, Overseer, she ate the gems.”  His voice cracked on the last few words.

Baring his formable teeth, the overseer yanked his dagger from its sheath and jumped to his feet.  Without a doubt, the wicked weapon was being brandished with the intent to kill.  Admirably, the young goblin stood his ground even as he saw death in the eyes of his leader while whitecaps formed in the pool at his feet.  Still snarling, the Overseer rethought his actions and slapped the dagger onto the stone table with a menacing clank.  "Who are you?" he growled.

"A-a-assis-sistant Run-run-run-runner B-b-bauxite."

“Who sent you to me with this news,” he demanded in a deceptively calm voice.

“S-s-s-s-super-v-v-visor C-c-c-coalfoot,” the young goblin stammered.

“Runner Bauxite, go tell Dunghandler Coalfoot that he is to personally sift through every dropping of our prime dragon until he retrieves every gem.  Then, he is to report directly to me.”





Nervously, twelve first-year students approached the door leading to the office of their head of house.  Magah sensed their mood as she trailed behind. Her ears perked as she scowled, looking about in a vain attempt to locate and eliminate the source of the disturbance.  The menace she radiated was ample warning to keep everyone else away.

Screwing up her courage, Apple Bloom raised a hand to knock awkwardly with the palm of her hand.  Silently, the door opened on its own and Professor McGonagall called out in a flat tone, “Come in children.”

Huddled together, the first-years obeyed as Magah brought up the rear.  Inside they found the Professor was not alone.  Philomena was perched on an elegant brass perch situated next to the desk and trilled a greeting at the sight of her charges.  Additionally, in a chair placed a little off to the side, a man sat with a serious expression on his face.

Magah glared at the witch behind the desk and snorted, pawing the floor.  Philomena trilled as she flew to the unicorn's withers.  Magah stood still, but continued glaring.  Philomena then returned to her perch.

“Daddy!” Ginny exclaimed.  She started forward and then, suddenly fearing to be sent home, she drew back, edging closer to Scootaloo for support.

“Come stand in front of my desk, children,” Professor McGonagall commanded.  Her stern demeanor ratcheted up the tension even further.

The first-years obeyed without a word.

Minerva let them stand there and stew for a full minute as she examined the expression on each individual.  Magah continued to glare daggers at the witch.  Finally, McGonagall said, “Kindly explain why you feel it necessary to acquire a spell specifically for killing large spiders.”

A casual observation showed all of the girls flinching even as the boys displayed various looks of surprise.

“Um,” Scootaloo ventured, “just in case we ran into some very large spiders?”

Professor McGonagall shifted her gaze to the girl and Scootaloo shrank back. “Are you telling me that you weren’t planning on hunting acromantulas?”

“They are right in the forest.”  Sweetie Belle opened her eyes as wide as they would go and gave the professor her best puppy dog look.  “You never know when one will wander out.”

Suddenly very happy that the girls were not in their natural pony forms, Minerva said, “I assure you, the wards are more than sufficient to keep them in the forest.”

“It can’t hurt to be prepared,” Dean said.

“A fifth-year student would be hard-pressed to survive an encounter with a single acromantula.  There’s a whole colony in that forest.”  Professor McGonagall informed the herd, “Even with a targeted spell, all of you would be nothing more than a quick meal for them.”

The children shuffled their feet under her gaze and no one dared say anything.

“We weren’t planning on going into the forest anytime soon,” Scootaloo muttered.

“I see,” Professor McGonagall said, then shifted her gaze directly to Apple Bloom.  “Miss Bloom, if you tell me that there were no plans to enter the forest this year, I will consider the matter closed.”

A look of dismay bloomed on the faces of both Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle as realization struck.  Their eyes darted back and forth between Philomena and the professor.

“You’ve been talking to our families,” Sweetie Belle stated.

With a short nod, Professor McGonagall continued to lock her gazes with Apple Bloom, “Well?  Miss Bloom?”

“The colts didn’t know nuthin about the spell,” Apple Bloom answered.

“Very well.” Minerva stood up out of her chair.  “Since you did not say they knew nothing about entering the forest, that will be ten points from each of you and detention tomorrow with Mr. Filch.”  She let her eyes pierce each Gryffindor in turn.  “Do not let it come to my attention that you are still planning a foray into the forest.  You are much too young and much too inexperienced to even consider it.  We have just recovered from the one student death in centuries.  I do not mean to lose an entire class in exchange.”

Hermione let out a wail, “I’ve never gotten detention before in my life!”

Neville placed a placating hand on her shoulder.  “N-neither have I,” he said, completely overlooking the fact that he had been home-schooled.

A thin stream of tears leaked from Hermione’s eyes as she bit her lip and nodded her thanks.

“Have I made myself clear?” the professor asked and was rewarded by a round of nods and "yes ma’ams".  She continued to stare at them for another half minute before saying, “Then, with the exception of Misses Aloo, Bloom, Weasley, Belle, and Mr. Weasley, you are dismissed.”  She let her voice lighten a bit, “Please, do try to stay out of trouble, at least for the rest of the week.”  Magah visibly relaxed as the tension bled out of the room.

Once the rest of the children had left, Minerva said, “Mr. Weasley here has asked to speak to you all concerning family matters.  Arthur, please feel free to use my office, and I shall leave you to it.”

She, too, left the office, closing the door behind her.

“Well,” Mr. Weasley said, not leaving his chair, “you lot sure have had an interesting week.”  He reached out to pull his daughter into a hug as she got close.  “I am both very proud and very upset with you.  No parent should ever have to bury their children.  If you had gone hunting acromantulas, I wouldn’t even have been able to do that; they would have left nothing to bury.”

Guilty looks crossed the faces of all the children as they saw how serious the elder was.  “We’re sorry,” they chorused.

“'Sorry' isn’t going to be enough,” Mr. Weasley said.  “I want you all to promise not to enter that forest, not without a reliable adult, until after you’ve at least completed your O.W.L.S.”

“I’m surprised that you don’t want us to promise until after we graduate,” Sweetie Belle said, only to receive a punch in her arm from Scootaloo.

“I’ve seen enough already to realize that would be pushing my luck,” Mr. Weasley answered, releasing Ginny from the hug and placing her on his lap.  “I’ve been corresponding with Mrs. Belle and her friends via phoenix and owl all day now.  The alliance between families is now official and magically binding.  My wife and I are responsible for you while you are in Britain; likewise, my children shall abide their authority if they choose to travel to Equestria.  I don’t think you girls knew what you were signing when you acknowledged house Weasley, but you are now legally my wards when in Britain.”

“Okay,” the girls chorused.

“That brings us to the subject of money,” Mr. Weasley said.  “You authorized a spending account for each Weasley family member when you agreed to 10,000 galleons per year for each member.  At first, I was going to insist that this would be stopped, but something came to light when I was trading letters with Miss Sparkle.”

<Flashback>

“Thanks again Philomena,” Twilight said, accepting the scroll and unfurling it.

Philomena trilled happily in reply.

“Well?” Rarity asked, still wondering how to broach the subject of the large herd with her new pen pal.

“I asked him to describe the price of a loaf of bread to better understand the numbers he has already sent us,” Twilight said burying her nose in the scroll.  “It should give us a rough idea of the value of the funds the Crusaders have available.  Hmmm . . . what’s a knut?  Oh wait, he answers that in the next sentence.”  Twilight’s head shot up and she looked over at the financial records still waiting patiently on her desk.  Then, she looked back at the paper in her telekinetic grasp . . . then back at the papers on her desk.  Then, she stared off into space.

“What is it Twilight?” Applejack asked from where she was lying on the floor.  Not really being good at fancy mathematics, she had opted to just observe.

“We seem to have a small hiccup with the laws of supply and demand,” Twilight answered.

“Small?”  Rainbow Dash asked, “Exactly how small?”

“Approximately a dragon sized hiccup,” Twilight said.

“Are we talking Spike-sized or big freaking snoring dragon on top of mountain sized?” Rainbow asked.

“Top of the mountain,” Twilight admitted.  “Easily, top of the mountain.”

“So,” Applejack said, “they have a lot of bits, then?”

“Filthy Rich has a lot of bits,” Twilight replied with a shake of her head.  “Even without the gems in their vault that Arthur Weasley has already agreed to help sell, the Crusaders are working on a level slightly above that.”

“That’s more of a growl than a hiccup,” Rarity said serenely, “wouldn’t you say so, darling?”

“Your taking that awful calmly,” Rainbow Dash observed looking directly at Rarity.

“After the herd agreement, my available supply of shock has been severely depleted,” Rarity replied.

</Flashback>

“So, we have a lot of galleons then?” Scootaloo asked innocently.

“That is an understatement,” Mr. Weasley said, “which is why your families want me to collect your main vault keys from you.  They don’t want you to abuse them.  I have a discretionary spending key here for each of you.”

“Thank you.” Apple Bloom beamed, not at all worried about the loss of her main vault key.  “We also need a key each for Seamus, Dean, Harry, Hermione, Lavender, Neville, and Parvati.”

“I would be more shocked, but Mrs. Belle has already made a similar request,” Arthur said running a hand though his hair.  “She certainly is generous.  Arguing with me to accept these accounts for the Weasley clan was an experience.”

“She is the Element of Generosity,” Scootaloo agreed.  “Besides, we have to take care of our herdmates to the best of our abilities.”

“Speaking of frivolously spending absurd amounts of money,” Arthur said as he reached into his coat pocket and extracted a shrunken package, “the first half of your trunk order is complete.”

“Oooo, thank you.”  Sweetie Belle hopped around happily.

“You realize you cannot bring any more gems with you from Equestria?” Arthur said.  “You are not to speak of how common gems are where you come from.”

“Will we have enough to pay for all our years here?” Scootaloo asked worriedly.

“That will not be a problem, far from it,” Arthur answered. “With that question, you’ve proven the wisdom of your families keeping your main vault keys.  Until you have a proper understanding of the value of a galleon, you’ll be limited on what you may spend.  You have more than enough to play with as it is.  You have more than enough to support a family for a lifetime already at your disposal.”





Somewhere between here and there, Discord, in his mismatched glory, sat on a comfortable green plaid couch and stared out into the void.  The space around him was arranged in perfect symmetry, extending even to dimensions beyond the perception of mere mortals.  This preternatural order, however, was not the main source of unease for the avatar of chaos.

Until now, his plans had been going well.  In fact, they had exceeded all his expectations.  Despite his nature, he had evaluated every scenario, prepared for every contingency, and even built in redundancy upon redundancy.  The potential payoff was far too valuable, far too important, to allocate anything less than his maximum effort.

Now, without warning, four of his key pieces had been destroyed.  He had not used mere magic in their making; no, this was too important.  Instead, he had imbued each with a sliver of his own essence.  For him, it had barely been a sacrifice; it would grow back over time.  But, with each piece of himself that he had given up, he had fundamentally altered the very nature of his tokens.

His companion, sitting in a plump chair upholstered in a vivid pink, asked, “Will this upset your plans?”

“No. Euridice," Discord said, calmly and deliberately.  “When the time comes, I will only need six of them.  I made sure to make extras, but I still didn’t expect someone to destroy any, and surely not this soon.”

Euridice, a pretty blonde woman with a bandage wrapped around her eyes, lifted an orange mug a took a pull of ambrosia before saying, “Remember, you have my support in this endeavor.  Do not hesitate to ask if you find you need my help for anything.”

“I cannot thank you enough for your offer of assistance," Discord said gratefully lifting his own mustard yellow mug.  “There is more at stake than you can imagine."

“Ours is a lonely existence,” she replied.  “How could I not help you in this?”

“Still, you did not have to.  For that alone, I cannot tell you enough how much I appreciate your support.”

“After the help you’ve been giving me?”  Euridice placed her mug next to the scales on a conveniently placed side table.  “Even if you benefited as well, these acts are not to be taken for granted.”

Discord peered at the table she was using and wondered where she had found a piece of furniture that particular shade of puce.  Then, he wondered just how upset she’d be if he just put it out of its misery and burned it.





After their scolding, the remaining Gryffindor first-years were once again gathered in Ginny’s trunk, preparing to have tea.

“I can’t believe they caught onto us so quickly,” Seamus stated as he worriedly watched Hermione silently sobbing in her easy chair.

Lavender had sat on the arm of the chair and was quietly hugging the distressed girl.

“We were just being too obvious about it.”  Dean shrugged.  “I wanna know what the deal is with giant spiders.”

“Fay said there are giant spiders in the forest," Parvati said from the kitchen area. “So, we sent a letter asking about spider-killing spells; I guess they just connected the dots.”

“Hermione,” Neville said softly, “I’m sorry we got you in trouble.  Please, don’t be sad, you’ll make up your ten lost points in our next class and probably more to boot.”

“I’ve never gotten in trouble at school before.”  Hermione sniffed.  “My parents are going to be so disappointed.”

The rest of the room looked on silently, not knowing what to say until Dean blurted, “I wouldn’t worry about it.  You won’t see them for months and they’ll have forgotten about it by then.”

For some strange reason, this only made Hermione cry harder.

Unsure of what to do, Harry fidgeted in his chair and looked at Seamus.  Seamus looked back in turn and shrugged, saying nothing.  Awkwardly, the minutes passed.





The common room’s portal silently swung open and admitted the Crusaders plus two and a unicorn.  Once fully in the room, they were promptly beset upon by a pair of bookends.

“All right . . .”

“start talking.”

“You’ve been . . .”

“gone a long time.”

“Your friends already . . .”

“came back ages ago . . .”

“and Hermione was clearly crying . . .”

“but they went upstairs without . . .”

“answering questions.”

“Where were . . .”

“you and what . . .”

“did you . . .”

“do?”

Used to his brothers’ mode of speaking, Ron answered, “Dad was here; he spent most of the time chewing us out.”

The twins’ eyebrows raised in surprise, “Our father . . .”

“our loving tolerant father . . .”

“our loving highly understanding father . . .”

“spent all this time . . .”

“chewing you out?”

“We might add. . ."

“breaking our own record . . .”

"for duration. . ."

As one the twins narrowed their eyes and said, “explain.”

“Can’t this wait?” Ron started, “we just got . . .”

Once again, the twins spoke in tandem. “Sit!"

"Explain!”

Taking the twins literally, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle promptly sat on the floor and gave their best sorrowful expression in defense.  The twins glared at Ginny and Ron who wisely followed suit.

Magah watched the drama.  Sensing no ill intent from the older boys, she was beginning to suspect that her charges had done something wrong.  She gently nuzzled the first-years and retired upstairs.





“That is a most interesting spell,” Rarity said.

“An’ might useful too,” Applejack agreed.

“It was nice of Arthur Weasley’s wife to send it,” Rainbow noted.

“I’m just glad I managed to get it to work,” Twilight said.  “There are some notable differences in the way we cast spells.  Now, Philomena, we have just one more letter for you to deliver today.”





With great apprehension the raggedy man approached the derelict department store.  Passersby paid no heed to either the building or to him.  He was well aware that the face the building showed the public was just an illusion.  The building actually housed St. Mungo’s, the wizarding hospital.

He didn’t want to go in.

He needed to go in.

He needed answers.

He needed to know.

Had he been wrong all this time?

Shame warred with anger and shook his frame  as he crumpled a take-out menu from Lee Ho Fook's.   

He needed to know.

He was afraid to know.

Had his anger been misdirected?

Had he failed his packmate?

He was a failure; all that he had loved was gone.

Could he make amends?

Would he be accepted?

Would he be forgiven?

Did he deserve to be forgiven?

He needed to know.





Tricksno ran down the corridor a large wooden box held firmly in his grasp.  He was wasting no time; this was of the utmost importance.  He knew delay would not be tolerated.  Bursting into the well-lit cavern, it seemed to Tricksno as if none of the occupants had moved since he was last in the chamber.

Hurrying up to the large stone table, the goblin gingerly placed the box before his leader and the hastily backed away.

Without acknowledging the account manager, the Overseer reached out and lifted the lid for inspection.  Inside, resting on black felt, ten gems glittered in silent welcome.

The Overseer leaned back in his lavish chair and grinned widely.  The grin made a barracuda look friendly in comparison.





“You . . .”

“wanted . . .”

“to . . .”

“hunt . . .”

“acromantulas?!”

For Ginny this was a new experience.  She had never heard the twin’s voices hit that note before.  She decided it was an experience she didn’t want to repeat.

“They wanted to do what?” Percy demanded rushing down the last steps from the dorm rooms.  This couldn’t be good; he had hit the same note.





“Did you find out what happened?” Euridice asked as she welcomed her guest back into her home.

“They were eaten by a dragon.”  Discord grumbled, crossing his mismatched limbs and pouting, "The goblin's pet decided they would make a tasty snack."

“But the dragons around here don’t eat gems," Euridice said, bewildered.  “They are strictly carnivores.”

“This one apparently didn’t get the memo.”





“What our dear brother . . .”

“Percy . . .”

“is trying . . .”

“to say . . .”

“is that . . .”

“even though trips . . .”

“into the forbidden forest...”

“are practically a rite of passage . . .”

“for our house, . . ."

“Acromantulas are strictly . . .”

“to be . . .”

“avoided.”

“As fellow Gryffindors . . .”

“believe us . . .”

“when we say . . .”

“that acromantula hunting . . .”

“is a complete . . .”

“no go.”

“Quick question.” A sixth-year girl broke into the conversation. “Did you actually get the spider-killing spell?”

Stunned silence met her query as the twins and Percy turned to stared at her.

She huffed and said, “Really?  You didn’t think you were the only Gryffindors in the room?  Did you?”





Taking advantage of her mother going out to grocer's, Abagail slowly stirred the mixture on the stove.  She was carefully following the precise instructions written on some notebook paper, writing that she really ought not have been able to read.

“I’m not sure I want to drink this,” she said to the beetle resting on the counter.  The thickening liquid was starting to look too much like blood for her liking. “And how exactly are you going to infuse it with your power?”





Sweetie Belle nearly cried with relief when Philomena flashed into existence.  Here was an opportunity to put an end to the scolding.  How many times were they going to have to promise not to hunt acromantulas?!

“Philomena!” Sweetie exclaimed still sitting on the floor.  “I see you brought me a letter!”

Even Percy fell quiet as the room watched the phoenix land on Sweetie’s shoulder and offer an envelope.

Noticing that everyone in the room, including the twins, was hurriedly putting some distance between themselves and the delivery, Apple Bloom said, "Uh oh.”

Looking at the letter, Scootaloo asked, “Why is it red?”

Philomena trilled briefly before flashing out.





Professor McGonagall charged into the Gryffindor common room with her wand brandished.  A gradient in soot marked where the event had started, and clean streaks showed where everything and everyone had been. A quick glance showed the complete disarray.  Tables were flipped over. Chairs were toppled.  Students lay haphazardly about the room. Everyone and everything seemed to be half-covered in soot.  Near the entrance, five first years sat with their front sides coated in soot, blinking in surprise.

"What happened here?" she demanded.  "What was that horrid noise?"

"Uh," Percy said from where he lay, "Sweetie Belle's parents sent her an overcharged howler."

"I see," Professor McGonagall said lowering her wand.  "Is anyone badly hurt."

She got a few groans in response but a quick check showed no significant injuries.

"Very well," she said, "carry on."  She then left through the same portal through which she had arrived.

 
> Chapter 27: Testing Protocols
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the Gryffindor common room, the first-year victims of Twilight's overcharged howler watched from their virtual penalty box as all the Gryffindor upper-years pitched in.  After he had recovered, Percy had dragooned the others into cleanup duty, while expressly forbidding the first-years from moving more than three paces away from their corner.

The fifth-years and above did the bulk of the heavy lifting, putting their lessons to good use.  Some took time out to coach the younger students, taking advantage of the opportunity to use a real-world scenario.  Soot was vanished, and furniture was returned to its normal locations with no physical effort.  It was no exaggeration to say that the cleanup of the room took less time than the recovery from the shock of the howler.

All the while, the first-years watched the proceedings with varying degrees of dismay.  Word of what had happened, and why, had spread like wildfire.  The others worked with divided attention, warily eyeing the first-years while they kept their ears open for the sound of wings.

Once the cleaning was complete, the saner members of the house retreated to safer environs while the elder Weasleys cleaned the penalty box and its inmates.  As the twins commandeered a couch, Percy ran his wand over Apple Bloom.  "All right," he said.  "You're clean.  Now sit on the couch, the lot of you, so we can finish this discussion."

“Actually,” George said somberly, “after that howler, I think they get the point.”

His twin nodded in agreement.   “We should let the girls go and take Ron and Ginny upstairs to finish this as family.”

“Upstairs would hardly be private.”  Percy shook his head.  “Let’s go find an unused classroom instead.”

Ginny shot to her feet with false bravado.  “These girls are wards of Clan Weasley.”  As the Crusaders stood by to back her up, she continued, “That makes them family.”

“It would seem,” George started.

“That you have a few more things to tell us,” Fred finished.

“So, let’s all go find that classroom, shall we?” Percy said.

“We could just go to your trunk,” Sweetie suggested.  Being the center of attention for something good was bad enough.  Having to take a walk of shame was almost more than she could bear.

“Right now, I don’t trust you to come right back down, if you go up to get one of your trunks.”  Percy crossed his arms.

“Not our trunks,” Apple Bloom said, “your trunk.  Show him, Scoots.”

Scootaloo reached into a robe pocket and pulled out a shrunken package.  “Your father brought this with him, but he did say it was only half the order.”  She then placed the package on the ground before tapping it three times with her wand.  The package grew the size of a large textbook.  A quick glance inside revealed eleven miniature trunks in a variety of woods and finishes.

“Yup,” Sweetie Belle said, looking over Scootaloo’s shoulder, “looks like he started with the standard ones.” She dipped her hands in the package and extracted three trunks.  “Here you go.”  She offered a matched set to the twins while holding a slightly different model to Percy.

“We can’t accept those,” Percy said shaking his head.  “While we appreciate the thought, we need to stop accepting such expensive gifts.”

“Your father has already said it was okay,” Sweetie Belle countered, thrusting the new luggage toward them once more.

Gingerly, one of the twins took one and turned it over in his hands.  “Is this going to try and eat us?”

The other twin said, “Because we are finishing this conversation, regardless.”

“It might, if you open it without binding it to yourselves first.”  Scootaloo urged, “Go ahead and give it a try.”

Percy accepted the remaining trunk and sighed.  “I’m sure you want to give out the rest of your gifts. We’ll continue this talk after supper.”

“What our dear brother means to say is . . .”

“'We want to play with our new toys a bit before getting back to business.'”

“That and 'thanks, we really appreciate your generosity.'”

“Yes,” Percy said solemnly.  “Thank you.”

“So, we can go now?” Apple Bloom asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Percy started, but that was as far as he got before the first-years made a mad dash for the girls’ dormitory stairs.

“Mind the!” Fred yelled just as a loud gong noise shook the walls in the room.

“Never mind,” George finished, chuckling.

“I forgot all about that,” Ron said from the bottom of the pile of first-years





Juggling three full grocery bags, Elisa Bates unlocked the front door of her apartment with a practiced ease.  The cozy apartment wasn't much, but it was home, and it was the best she could afford for her daughter and herself.  Many times, she had been tempted to take on another job so that she would have the means to give her daughter everything she deserved, but that would mean she would have no time to spend with little Abagail.  Still, she was determined to do everything in her power to help her daughter succeed where she, herself, had not.

Putting her keys on the small dining room table, the plain-looking woman called out, “Abagail, I’m home!”

“Okay mum!” her daughter called out from her room.

Elisa set down the bags on the table and went to glance in on her daughter.  The eleven-year-old was sitting at her desk, taking sips from a coffee mug.  The mother asked, “Did you finish your homework?”

“Yes, mum.” Abagail replied, with the annoyed tone that all children used to answer that question.  She continued in a plaintive wail.  “Can I go out and play?”

“You're still grounded,” Elisa said, not falling for the obvious trick.  “Maybe next time you’ll think before you pull stunts like that.”

“Yes, mum.”  The girl sighed and went back to her drink.

Satisfied that all was well, Elisa went back to the kitchen to put the groceries away.  She was dismayed to find a small mess.  It looked like her daughter had tried to cook something.  Bits of dried herbs still sat on the cutting board, and scraps of different vegetables were scattered about the counter.  Still, a smile graced her lips.  It looked as though her daughter had tried to cook something that didn’t come out of a can.  This was an improvement, and she wasn’t about to spoil it by fussing over the clutter.  Sitting on the stove, slowly simmering, was the rest of the . . . tomato soup?

Not wanting to waste food, Elisa poured the remaining liquid into a mug and swirled it around.  She recognized the bits of herb floating in the mix, but not much else.  Overall, it didn’t look too bad.  Without too much trepidation, she brought it to her lips for a taste.  It was more bitter than she had been expecting, with maybe too much thyme, but otherwise palatable.  Shrugging, she added a little salt before finishing it off.





“They're in here.” Apple Bloom’s voice came as the lid to the trunk was opened.  “Ah can smell the tea.”

“Yeah,” Seamus yelled, breaking the silence.  “We’re down here.”

As the Crusaders led the way to the sitting room, they found that the room's warmth had been overpowered by Hermione's despair.  She had stopped crying, but she now sat sullenly as Parvati and Lavender continued to hug her.  The boys sat and watched, unsure of how to act, afraid to make a sound.  All the while, the tea cooled, forgotten.

Dean could no longer contain his curiosity.  He asked, "Do you guys know what that loud noise was?  Parvati wouldn’t let us leave to investigate.  She says we have to lay low for the rest of the week, at least.”

“Y'all know what a howler is?” Apple Bloom asked as she led the other into the room.

“That didn’t sound like any howler I’ve ever heard of,” Parvati objected.

“What’s a howler?” Harry and Hermione asked together.

“It’s a red letter that yells at you, then explodes,” Scootaloo informed them, carrying a box down the stairs.  “Apparently, it’s what witches send their children when they can't be there in person.”

“That didn’t sound like yelling,” Seamus noted.

“They need to practice that part of the spell,” Sweetie admitted, “but they were spot on with the exploding portion.”

“We need to not give them reasons to practice that spell,” Apple Bloom insisted.  “Mah ears are still ringing.”

“Um, yeah,” Lavender said to change the subject.  “What took you guys so long?”

“We got an earful from my father,” Ron griped taking a large portion of vanilla biscuits from the tea tray and passing half to Apple Bloom.  “Then, when we got to the tower, the twins and Percy had a go.”

“I’m beginning to think hunting acromantulas is a bad idea,” Scootaloo said seriously.

“No . . .” Dean drawled in mock astonishment, “you don’t say.”

Meanwhile, Ginny was staring at Apple Bloom with her mouth hanging open.

“Waa?” Apple Bloom asked around a mouth full of biscuit.

“How’d you do that?” Ginny asked in awe.

“Doo waaf?” Apple Bloom said messily.

“How’d you get my brother to share?” Ginny waved in her brother’s direction.  “I’m his sister, and he’s never shared sweets with me.  If anything, I have to hide them from him just to get a crumb.”

“Ginny!” Ron growled, losing some crumbs from his mouth.

“It’s true,” Ginny growled back.

“You do know we’ll be going to supper soon,” Hermione admonished, looking from Apple Bloom to Ron.  “If you eat all those biscuits you won’t have any . . . You know what, forget I was going to say that.”

“Waa une?” Ron asked, holding a biscuit out toward Hermione.

“Ewwww!” Lavender said looking away.  “Don’t talk with your mouth full!”

Ron shrugged and stuffed the biscuit into his mouth.

“All right,” Ginny said, “who are you and what have you done with my brother?  You’ve got the table manners down right, but my brother doesn’t share.”

Ron glared at her as he demolished another biscuit.

“We need to work on his manners,” Parvati stated, and all the girls, except Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, nodded.





Having left the beetle in her room, Abigail walked into the kitchen.  Mug in hand, she went directly to the stove.  “Mum?  Did you pour the rest of my potion down the drain?”

“No,” Elisa said from her spot on the couch, watching the tiny telly, “that would be a waste. It wasn’t bad, just needed a touch of salt.”  She smacked her lips thoughtfully, “Where ever did you get that recipe?”

“From my beetle.”

“That’s nice,” Elisa said with a chuckle.  “You have a very smart beetle.”

“Yeah,” Abagail agreed.  Then after a pause, she continued, “He infused the potion with his power, by the way.”

“Oh? How’d he do that?”

Abigail shuddered as she made a face.  “You don’t want to know.”





The Gryffindor first-year boys’ dorm room was a hive of activity, the occupants kneeling as they dealt with their current task.  Even without accommodations for the resident unicorn, some would have compared the room to a stable.

“I can’t believe they bought each of us a trunk,” Seamus said as he transferred his belongings from his old trunk into the new one.  “They seem real serious about taking care of herd members.”

“They sure like giving gifts,” Dean agreed, descending into his own trunk with an armful of clothes.  “Although, all those statements about taking care of their stallions sounded kind of possessive, didn’t they?”

“I’m not sure it’s normal,” Neville said, “but I’m not complaining.  I’m happy with the way things are going.”

“I’m pretty sure we left normal behind once we boarded the express,” Harry said trying not to let the other boys see his clothes as he transferred them, “and I’m glad we did.”

“Still,” Dean called out, “I can’t help thinking that we’re missing something obvious and important.”

“They’re girls,” Seamus said.  “My dad says you’re not supposed to understand them.  He says that once one of them sets their eyes on you, the best thing to do is just say ‘yes dear’ a lot and do whatever they tell you.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Harry said turning to Seamus.  “What do you do when seven set their eyes on you?”

Seamus shrugged.  “Say ‘yes dear’ seven times as much, I guess.  Although, there are five of us; so, that probably cuts back on the chores.”

“Hey,” Dean yelled from in his trunk, “tell Ron that there are a couple of boxes of those vanilla biscuits in my kitchen.  He probably has a couple in his as well.”

“Yaff!” Ron called, spaying crumbs.  “Tharr whurrr!”





Earlier that day, Applejack had brought over a small bag of "owl treats" to the library.  The writing on the large sack Big Mac had received with the rest of his new pet supplies said that they were a good and healthy way to thank your owl for the deliveries it made.  Seeing how Rarity and Twilight kept receiving owls from the girls, Applejack thought it would be a good idea if they both had some on hoof, just in case.  In the inviting warmth of the library's foyer, an owl perched on Pinkie’s back and enjoyed the thoughtfulness, even as Twilight read the letter it had brought.

“What’s it say?  What’s it say?” Pinkie asked excitedly as she watched Twilight scan the paper.

“It’s from Professor McGonagall,” Twilight answered. “She says I overcharged the last howler.  It was unintelligible and blasted the entire common room.  She recommends that when I send howlers in the future to only charge them with about a tenth of the power.”

“Oooooo,” Pinkie perked up, “you should practice that spell some more.”

“Pinkie.”  Twilight shook her head.  “I’m not sending the girls another howler so soon; that would just be cruel.”

“I know how to test it,” Pinkie said, enthusiastically bouncing up and down, drawing a startled shriek from the owl on her back. “I know how to test it!”

“Um, okay.”  Twilight agreed, “I guess we can give it another try.”

“I wanna do the voice!  I wanna do the voice!  I wanna do the voice!” Panicked, the owl pushed off its pulsating pink party pony perch and escaped through the still-open front door.

“Okay.  Okay,” Twilight said, reaching out with her magic to snag paper, quill, and ink from the desk.





Inside a brand-new trunk, on a brand-new dresser sat a battered old cage.  There was nothing special about the cage; it was just a typical wire cage whose ilk could be found in any pet store, selling for a few pounds. It was made for smaller mammals, like an ordinary rat, a lazy, good-for-nothing rat, a beloved pet.

“There you goooz,” said the house elf that had just done her job.  “Cage all nice nice and clean now.  Fresh newz paper fors youz to chew on.”

Satisfied that her job was done, there was a small popping noise, and she was gone.  The occupant of the cage wasn’t paying attention to the sound, though.  This was not surprising since he was a rat.  What was surprising was the way the animal was staring at the floor of its cage, almost as if it could read the writing on its new bedding material.  But that was a truly ridiculous idea.  Besides, why would a rat care about some guy named Black being freed from someplace called Azkaban?  Most likely, the rat was just watching the magical moving pictures.





It turned out Percy’s trunk was set up differently than the girls'.  The stairs still descended into a sitting room, but this one was larger, with three couches.  Immediately to the left of the stairs was an archway that led to a study with a beautiful roll-top desk and several bookcases; all had a warm pecan finish. Even the kitchen was larger, sporting a full-sized dining set made from rustic pine.  However, the current occupants were not present to admire the workmanship.  The five youngest slumped onto one couch while the older brothers lounged on the other two.

“Are you going to yell at us some more?” Sweetie Belle sighed, once Percy found his seat.

“Nah.” The twin on the left said, “You get the point by now.”

“It’s not that we don’t admire your spirit,” the other twin said, “but as big brothers and as friends, well . . .”

“The thought of you getting eaten by giant spiders stops our hearts.”

“Giant spiders?”  Ron paled and looked around worriedly.  “What giant spiders?”

“Hello,” Scootaloo said, “we’ve only been yelled at about acromantulas all night now.”

“Acromantula are giant spiders?” Ron all but shrieked.  “Why didn't you tell me they’re giant spiders?”

“An’ y’all call me oblivious,” Apple Bloom complained.

“Enough with the acromantulas,” Percy said, taking charge. “Unless we are given reason, the subject will not come up again.”

The first-years clearly cheered up at the proclamation and sat attentively.

“No what’s this about you three being wards of House Weasley?” Percy asked, broaching the next important subject.

“Father finalized an alliance with their families,” Ginny stated.  “They’re family now.”

“Did he mention the terms of the alliance?” Percy asked as the twins watched silently.

“While here, we’re Weasley wards,” Sweetie Belle said.  “When you travel to Equestria, you’re wards of our families.”

“Equestria?” Percy asked, confused.  “I thought you were from America.  Where’s Equestria.”

“Don’t rightly know how to get there from here.”  Apple Bloom shrugged.  “Discord brought us.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo agreed with a nod, “but I’m sure it’s not close.  Back home, humans are just myths.  We didn’t even recognize them when we first got here, though we should have with how much Lyra talks about them.”

“Wait a minute.”  Percy held up a hand.  “You’re not human?”  Then, after looking at his siblings’ lack of reaction.  “And you all knew that already, didn’t you?  Why am I always the last to find out about these things?”

“Does it really matter?” the twin on the right asked.

Percy pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “So, what are you then?  Veela?”

“We’re ponies,” Sweetie Belle said while Apple Bloom and Scootaloo nodded.

Percy stared at her dumbly.  “Could you repeat that?”

Ginny giggled and nudged Sweetie Belle in the side.  “Go ahead and show him, he’s not going to believe you otherwise.”

With half lidded eyes, Sweetie asked her, “Are you going to scream again?”

“No,” Ginny insisted as she shook her head, “I’m past that.”

“Oh, okay.” Sweetie agreed and her human form melted away to be replaced by her smaller, true form.

Ginny held her breath to stifle her first reaction.

“See, Percy.” Sweetie smiled, “Ponnnniiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssssss.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to do that,” Scootaloo calmly said as she watched Ginny force Sweetie to mangle her last word.

“I said I wouldn’t scream,” Ginny happily corrected.  “This is hugging.”

“Sweetie Belle.” Percy said.

“Yeah?” Sweetie said in a strangled gasp.

“You’re a unicorn.” Percy asserted.

“Yeah.”

“Magah makes a whole lot more sense now,” Percy said

“Can’t breathe!”

“Ginny,” one twin said, “she’s supposed to be white . . .”

“not blue,” the other twin finished.  “You might want to let up a bit.”

“Sorry,” Ginny apologized, moving Sweetie onto her lap.

“This actually explains so much,” Percy said as the twins snickered.

Ginny started to scratch Sweetie Belle behind the ears.

“Oooo,” the little pony moaned, “don’t stop doing that.”

“Anymore big surprises?” Percy asked, still eyeing Sweetie Belle.

“Well,” Scootaloo said rubbing her chin with her hand, “we do have your dis-wash-ery spending keys to give you, but that’s about it.”

“Yah know, Scoots,” Apple Bloom said, “even Ah’m going ta have ta call you on that one.”

From beyond the closed lid of the trunk a voice cried out, “Why is there a unicorn in our room?”





As she passed the rustic homes along the streets of Ponyville, a white pony with a two-toned electric blue mane marched to the beat of her own; drummer be damned.  She bobbed her head to the rhythm of music only she could hear, even without the large pair of earphones she always wore.  Oval purple lenses on the sunglasses she wore day and night left other ponies wondering whether she used them to see things not as they were, but as she thought they should be.

She lived in a world of music, and the gear she wore guaranteed that it would always be close at hoof, just as she liked it. Although it had been fun, the long day at the studio had been exhausting. She was ready to order her favorite take-out and get some shut-eye.

Wordlessly, she approached her house, and with a smile she saw that somepony had left a bright red envelope wedged in the doorframe.  Whatever it was, it appeared too good for the normal mail system.  She reached out with her magic and brought the paper closer for inspection.  In blue ink, her name popped out in stark contrast to the red.  Using her telekinesis, she started to open the letter, only to have it leap from her grasp.

To her surprise, the letter did something she could never have imagined. It yelled at her.  “AAAAAH!  AAAAAH!  AAAAAH!  THIS IS A TEST OF THE PONY EXPLODING NOTES SCOLDING SYSTEM!  THIS IS ONLY A TEST!  IF THIS WERE AN ACTUAL SCOLDING, CRITICISM OF WHAT YOU DID WRONG WOULD BE RIGHT HERE!  THIS IS ONLY A TEST!  THIS LETTER WILL EXPLODE IN 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1”

At the word "explode", the white mare dove behind the topiary.  She huddled behind the tree as she gritted her teeth and braced herself for the explosion.  A full ten seconds after the announcement, she poked her head out and looked at the red letter; it had followed her.  In a surprisingly boyish-sounding voice she said, “Dang!  Pinkie, that was a rough prank; for a second there I thought it was actually going to ex . . ..”

*Boom!*

Once the smoke cleared, the extent of the damage was fully revealed. Her spiky mane had been swept back by the force of the explosion, and both her glasses and her headphones now lay on the ground.  Soot covered her face and the front of her neck, except where her glasses and her headphones had been.  The trauma had shrunk her pupils to pin pricks.

Still staring off into space, she said “ . . .they need to work on the timer.”





He had to get out of Britain!  He had to get out of Britain!  He had to get out of bloody Britain!

His worst fear had been realized!

His days were numbered!

Heedless of any noise he might be making, he rushed down the small tunnel behind the castle wall.  There were places only he could go.  Being as small as he was, he could find passage where others would be stranded.

He had to get out of Britain!

Wait!?  Was that menthol?





Professor Sprout was walking down the castle passageway talking to her fellow Head of House.  "Arguing" was more descriptive; they were having a difference of opinion.

“He’s harmless, Serverus,” she said.  “What little damage his bites do is almost instantly healed.  The worst he could possibly do is give someone a heart attack when he jumps at you.”

“It is an abomination.”  Professor Snape sneered.

“They said that about the first hippogriff,” she countered.

“It is my duty to remove it from this world, permanently.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” Professor Sprout argued.  “Think of the potential benefits.  With a little coaxing, he will come when called.  Why, he’s even proven to be a handy way to cure small cuts and bruises.  Several of my girls have said he removes pimples effortlessly, leaving their skin smooth and unblemished.”

“Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

After watching the spectacle run past them in the corridor, Professor Sprout continued, “And apparently he controls the rat population.”

“We have wards for that,” Snape responded.  “That was a student’s pet.  What are we to do when it graduates to attacking cats.”

“You mean like Mrs. Norris?”

Snape considered the possibilities, “You may be right; perhaps we should keep it around for a while.”





“It worked it worked!” Pinkie exclaimed, hopping into the library.  “You could understand what it said.  This one only took five seconds after the words for it to explode.”

Twilight looked up from where she was writing a letter to the princesses, summarizing their correspondences with the human world.  “That’s good to hear, Pinkie,” she said.  “I can easily tweak that.”

“Let’s do another test.”  Pinkie balanced on her hind legs and excitedly clapped here forehooves together.

“Okay, just a second,” Twilight said reaching for another blank page.

A few minutes later she was out in front of her library, watching Pinkie pronking off into the distance.  “Be careful with that!” she called as a reminder.

“Ahem!”

Startled, Twilight turned towards the sound and came muzzle to muzzle with another pony, a frowning, once white pony who now looked like an escapee from a minstrel show

“Um, hello,” Twilight said, noticing that there were several more ponies in similar condition, all showing the same level of annoyance.  “Where are your glasses and headphones?”





Reason took time to work its way through the terror the rat brain was projecting.  The slime was playing with him, keeping just close enough to prolong the chase, never getting too close and definitely not falling behind.  He had to end this.  In an otherwise empty corridor, the rat turned midstride and shifted.

He wasn’t sure how slime could look confused, but this one managed it.  Just like that, the tables were turned.  Proving that having a brain is not always necessary for sound judgement, the blue blob reversed direction and fled.

Satisfied, the rat shifted again, and prepared to continue on its way.  Carefully, it made its way out of the castle.  With freedom in sight, it began to cross the vast lawn.  Without warning, a gloved hand appeared and snatched him up off the ground.

Startled, the rat found himself gawking into a pair of mismatched eyes.

“Euridice was right; you’ll do nicely.”





After spending time helping Rarity in her shop, Spike made his way home, dazed.  She had kissed him on the cheek, making the whole day worth it.  Every day, he was getting a little closer.

With a goofy grin on his face he entered the library.  To his surprise, a small group of soot-faced ponies were present, watching Twilight.

Glancing at the multitude of blackboards he read, “I will, under no circumstances, give Pinkie anything even remotely resembling explosives.”

Looking back and forth between the soot-faced ponies and the blackboards he said, “Yeah, I don’t even know the whole story here, and I can already tell she deserves this.”

 
> Chapter 28: Mall Rats
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rain steadily fell on the darkening London street, accentuating the air of misery projected by the lone, raggedy man standing on the corner.  Had anyone bothered to notice him, they would have seen that his ancient bespoke raincoat still shed moisture, despite its appearance.  He had been there for a couple hours now, maybe a bit longer, worrying a Chinese take-out menu between his hands.  He just stood there, staring at the derelict department store across the street.  Ignoring the other people who occasionally passed him, the man contemplated his past.

Fear was something to be acknowledged, then ignored.  Fear wouldn’t stop him.  Fear couldn’t stop him.  He had mastered fear a long time ago.  It no longer held any sway over him.  Shame, on the other hand, was a monster that knew no mercy.  Shame could stop him cold and leave him rooted to the spot.

The flickering streetlamps mirrored his indecision.  Should he enter, or should he flee?  He was so lost in thought that it didn’t even register that the last woman to exit the department store had made a beeline straight for him, splashing noisily on the soaked sidewalk.  It wasn’t until she was standing right in front of him that he took notice of her.  When she glared up at him with a miffed frown, he realized he knew her.

“Andi?” he asked, his voice failing to rise above a whisper.

“Just how long do you plan on pretending to be a statue?” she asked as way of greeting.  “I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to charge forward.”

Wincing at her tone, he said, “Andi, it’s good to see you.  It’s been too long.”

She snorted.  “Don’t try changing the subject on me.  How long are you planning on standing out here?”

“I turned my back on him.”  The man shook his head sadly.  “I don’t have the right to talk to him.”

“We all failed him,” Andi said, “and he’s family.”  She reached up and tenderly brushed a soggy lock of hair out of his eyes.  “And you are family, too, blood be damned.  Don’t make me have to kick you in the arse to get you going.”

“I never even visited him.  I let him rot without ever hearing his side.”

“You were wrong.  We all were.  He has every right to never want to see any of us ever again,” Andi said.  “Instead, he’s in his room right now staring down at us, waiting for you.  It’s time to make amends.”

“Andi, I don’t know . . .” the man started, only to stop as the woman darted behind him.  In an uncharacteristic move, she pulled back her leg and kicked him in the rear as hard as she could.

“I did warn you,” she said.





With an abrupt start, he awoke.  Standing on his hind legs he scented his surroundings.  The blend of smells denoting damp forest met his senses.  In fact, he was under a bush, well hidden from whatever may pass by.

How had he gotten here?

Last thing he remembered was fleeing Hogwarts.  Apparently, he had succeeded.

Shaking himself, he selected a direction at random and started walking.  His small size didn’t eat much distance with each step, but the stealth it lent was invaluable.





In the Charms classroom, the Gryffindor herd was once again sharing time with the Hufflepuffs.  Finally, their last class of the week proved to be what they were waiting for.  In the first few minutes of the period, they had learned their first charm.  The excitement was thick in the air as Professor Flitwick cut them loose to practice.  Soon, the word ‘Lumos’ could be heard echoing throughout the chamber.

It surprised no one that the first successful cast came from Hermione.  She managed to produce a warm light on the tip of her wand on her second attempt.  This resulted in her housemates cheering her on even as the Hufflepuffs looked on jealously.

“Way to go, Hermione!”  Lavender applauded even as she refocused on her own wand.  “Lumos!” she demanded with no success.

“Lumos!” Ron said, scowling at his own wand to no effect.

It was several minutes before the next successful cast was made.

“Is this right?” Dean asked looking at his own wand tip.  Instead of the white light that Hermione and the professor had produced, he had a shimmering ball of yellow.  More specifically, it looked like living flames held in check by a clear glass ball.

“Very good Mr. Thomas,” Professor Flitwick said upon seeing the effort, and he awarded more points to Gryffindor.  Then, as if a floodgate had opened, children were getting successful casts throughout the room.  After a few minutes there were only two students that were having problems.

“Come on, Neville,” Scootaloo encouraged as she stared at the bare pinprick of light he had on the tip of his wand.  “You can do this.”

“I’m trying,” he said, sweat beading on his forehead.  “I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.  I’m afraid I’m not very strong.”

“You’re doing better than me,” Sweetie said sadly, displaying her own, lightless wand.  “Lumos!”  Her wand remained unlit.

The rest of the class looked at her display in wonder.

Sweetie Belle noticed everyone looking at her weirdly.  “What?” she asked.

“Miss Belle,” Professor Flitwick said, “may I ask what the core of your wand is made of?”

“Um, unicorn hair,” she answered.

“That explains why her aim is so bad,” Hermione observed.

“Don’t worry, Miss Belle,” the little professor said encouragingly.  “You’re not the first student to have this particular problem.  I just need to contact a colleague of mine to borrow a certain training device, and we can get you past this hurdle.”

Sweetie looked questioningly at Professor Flitwick and then back at her wand tip.  “Lumos?”  She tried again, and the rest of the class watched the hair on the top of her head light up again.





He had needed to call in some favors, but even from his hospital bed he had managed to obtain the paperwork he sought.  Regrettably, the paperwork had provided the worst possible news.  The foolish Dursley woman had indeed signed over all her rights to Belle’s mother, ripping control of Harry from his grasp.  The possibility that he could convince her to return guardianship to him looked minute.

Fortunately, he had another avenue of attack.  True, it wasn’t something that would have been open just a few days ago, but chance had created an opportunity, a situation he could take advantage of.  All he needed to do was contact a new ally and let her know what he wanted her to do.  From there, his control of Harry would be stronger than it had been before.





With a flash of flames, the girl’s dormitory was once again occupied. Rain streaked the window as clouds obscured the setting sun.

“Free for the weekend!”  Lavender exclaimed, throwing her arms toward the ceiling even as Magah headed straight for the hay.

“Yup,” Apple Bloom said, “Ah declare it’s time for exploring side quests.”

“There’s plenty of time to root around the castle later.” Ron disagreed, “We’ve got all those new brooms you ordered, let’s play Quidditch.”

“Yeah!  Flying.”

“I wouldn’t mind visiting the shopping mall that Dean was talking about the other day,” Sweetie Belle suggested.

“You and your shopping,” Apple Bloom complained.  “I was thinking of the amusement park or the zoo.”

“Wait,” Hermione said, “we’re not allowed to leave the grounds.  The wards will stop us.”

“Oi!” Dean exclaimed.  “That’s right, but we have a phoenix.  We can go anywhere.”

“But?”  Hermione exclaimed, “The rules!”

“I don’t wanna be stuck in a boring castle all the time,” Scootaloo countered.

“This castle is anything but boring,” Harry said.

“When it’s winter and cold out, we’ll have all the time in the world to explore the castle,” Parvati said.  “Now’s the time to see other things.  I also want to visit the muggle shopping mall.”

“But,” Apple Bloom pouted, “amusement park.”

‘That’s a daylong event.”  Seamus soothed her.  “The mall would actually be a better idea for a Friday night.  They have a video arcade.”

“A what?” Lavender asked.

“You’ll see.”  Dean smirked.

“But!”  Hermione interjected, “The rules!”

“We’ll need muggle money of course, so a trip to the bank first.”  Seamus continued, “I’ve got a couple five quid notes in my trunk that we can stretch.”

“Great!”  Scootaloo bounced in place.  “What are we waiting for?  Let’s go!”

“Wait!” Hermione yelled. Then, when she had everyone’s attention, she continued.  “The rules?”

The rest of the herd just stared at her.

“We could end up getting another detention,” she insisted.

“Probably,” Seamus agreed, and there was a round of nodding.

Seeing she was not going to get any support, Hermione sighed.  “Fine, but we need to change our clothes first.  We can’t go around in robes.”

“Okay.”  Apple Bloom grinned.  “Now that that’s out of tha way, everyone, meet up in the boy’s dorm in ten minutes.”





As heavy curtains shut out the dreary weather, the heavy oak desk dominated the room, even though it didn’t take up a large percentage of the floor space.  There was just something about the immaculate piece of furniture that screamed, "I am important.”  Even covered by paper, as it currently was, its gravitas could not be ignored.  In the overstuffed black leather chair, Alice Rutter sat and surveyed her new holdings.  She should have been happy with that, but she was fretting instead.  He hadn’t visited her in days now.  Worse, she didn’t know how to get in contact with him.  How was she to make him her own, when he didn’t even bother to show up?

Alice glowered at the bank statement in her hand.  The paper was only taking up space; it held none of her attention.  It was obvious; she had scared him.  How she had managed that, she couldn’t say.  He came across as confident and self-assured, hardly the type to be put off by a strong and willful woman.  Only one thing was for sure; he was not going to escape.  She’d send him an owl and invite him to dinner.

Having made up her mind, Alice put down the bank statement.  Just as she was reaching for a blank sheet, the wards let her know that a visitor had arrived and was walking up the path from the boundary.

“Dobby,” she called, and the elf popped into existence.  “Dobby, someone is on their way; would you mind asking Narcissa to greet them for me?”

“Yes, pretty mistress. Dobby will do.”  With another pop, the elf was gone.

With a sigh, Alice recalled the most stressful aspect of the week.  Narcissa Malfoy had been respectful, if not meek.  She had understood exactly where she stood and the reasoning behind her current status.  Surprisingly, she had not seemed to lay any blame at the feet of Alice.  Her son, Draco, was a different matter.

Alice could not blame the boy.  After all, in his eyes, she was the woman who had robbed him of his father, never mind that Lucius had struck the first, unwarranted blow.  The boy only cared that his father was gone, and she was accountable for that reality.  It made Alice feel guilty. not guilty that she had rid the world of Lucius Malfoy, guilty that she had hurt the child.  Alice wasn’t a fool; she knew that Lucius was raising the boy to be a bigot, but it still bothered her to see the hurt in his eyes.

Alice could only console herself with the knowledge that it was a necessary evil.  Bitterly, she cursed Lucius for making it necessary.

Narcissa and her son hadn’t been the only casualties of Alice’s claims of conquest.  Fortunately, most of the other affected wives and children had other family.  Alice had spent last few days being approached by these family members, bearing proposals of ransom.  There had been hefty sums offered by some.  Others could afford little more than oaths of allegiance.  To put it politely, purebloods came to rescue their kin from direct subjugation by the daughter of a couple of muggleborn.

Alice had extracted oaths from them all, a formal commitment to not support Death Eaters and their like in any manner.  If another dark lord arose, there would be fewer followers to court.

In all, it left just a bare handful of individuals she was still responsible for.  Once Lord Black was cleared, she would have two fewer.





“Wait here with Philomena,” Apple Bloom told Sweetie.  They were once again in the alleyway where they had originally entered this world. Steady rain dampened their clothing, but not their spirits. “We don’t want to draw too much attention, an' it’ll only take a couple of us ta go get money.  In fact, y’all except Hermione and Ginny wait here.” The rest of the herd huddled under their umbrellas.





Alice looked up from the letter she was drafting.  She had expected Narcissa to take care of whatever the most recent visitor wanted.  However, the knock on the door dispelled that notion.  “Enter,” Alice called out.

Narcissa opened the door and showed their guest into the study.  “Miss Rutter,” she said formally, “the Chief Warlock is here to see you.”

Alice groaned internally; hopefully this wouldn’t be like her meeting with the head of the DMLE.

“Professor Dumbledore,” she said, rising from her seat to greet the elder wizard, “what brings you here today?”

“Ah, Alice my dear.” Dumbledore said entering, seemingly moving slower and stiffer than the last time she had seen him, “I apologize that I have not been able to visit sooner; I have only today been released from St. Mungo’s.”

“I heard,” Alice said.  “I do hope you are recovering.”

“I am a bit sore,” Dumbledore replied as he waved a dismissive hand, “but otherwise I am well.”

“Please,” Alice said, gesturing to the chairs waiting in front of her desk, “have a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Dumbledore said, settling in the offered comfort.

Alice waited until he was situated before trying again.  “How may I help you today?”

“I have some disturbing news to discuss with you,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye.  “More to point, I’ve come for your help.  You see, magical guardianship of Harry Potter has recently been stolen from me.  I need your help in recovering it.”

“Really?” Alice asked.  “How could I possibly help you with that?”

“As you know, Sirius Black claims to be Harry’s godfather,” Dumbledore said in a lecturing tone.  “As such, he could override Harry’s aunt’s unwise decision to foster off her responsibilities to another.  Furthermore, as acting head of House Black, you could bequeath the full authority to me.”

“Harry’s aunt signed her rights away?” Alice asked.

“Yes, a foreign wizard by the name of Discord tricked her into a bad arrangement.”  Dumbledore sighed to show his disappointment.  “Legally, I can do nothing.  Unless you sign control over to me, I am afraid I will continue to be blocked.”

Alice narrowed her eyes.  “This sounds like something I should be discussing with Lord Black.”

“Sirius is in no condition to make decisions concerning a minor.”  Dumbledore sighed again.  “Being in Azkaban for all this time would not be conducive to a rational evaluation.  It would be for the greater good if I were to regain guardianship.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Alice demanded.

Startled at her sudden coolness, Dumbledore replied, “I do believe I am telling you everything you need to know.  Wouldn’t you prefer to have guardianship of Harry Potter returned to a British national, instead of a foreign family.”

“I will have to think on this,” Alice said

“Miss Rutter,” the voice of authority said, “time is of utmost importance; I’m afraid I will be needing an answer very soon.”

“Then the answer is no.”

Flabbergasted, Dumbledore said, “That would be a most ill-advised answer.”

“I know better than to let myself be rushed into things like this.”  Alice crossed her arms.  “Did you have something else you wanted to discuss?”

Dumbledore openly frowned.  “I see you will be needing some time to make the proper decision.  I know I can count on you to see reason, given a little deliberation.  I just hope it won’t be too late.”  He stood up, “May I impose on you for the use of your floo?  It is past time that I return to Hogwarts.”

“Dobby.”  With a pop the elf answered his mistress’s call.  “Please escort Professor Dumbledore to the floo.”

“I look forward to our future conversations.”  Dumbledore smiled as he followed the elf out of the study.

Alice immediately reached for a blank sheet of paper.





“Okay, Philomena, Hermione says we can’t let these people see you.  Please go back to my trunk until we call you.” Sweetie Belle said to the bird of fire.

Philomena trilled sadly, but complied.  A flash of flames later, and she was gone.

“I can’t believe we’re going to a muggle store,” Lavender gushed as they exited yet another alleyway.

“Lavender, stay on the sidewalk.”  Dean warned, “We don’t want you getting hit by a car, do we?”

“A car?”

“One of those horseless carriages.”  Hermione informed her, “They have the right of way in the streets.”

“Aren’t they marvelous,” Parvati breathed, watching the traffic plow through the wet streets.

“They do come in handy,” Seamus agreed, “but you do have to watch for them, getting hit could ruin your day.”

“My dad has one in the shed,” Ginny said proudly.  “He’s always tinkering with it.”

With those words, twelve children made their way to the mall.





In his backyard, Discord was relaxing in his hot tub.  Truthfully, though, this backyard was more a state of mind than a residential feature.  A normal observer would be hard-pressed to even see the back door from this yard; it was in a completely different plane of existence. To the avatar of chaos, this was completely irrelevant, as were all physical laws. All that mattered was that he was luxuriating up to his chin in luscious vanilla pudding, the ultimate indulgence. This was so much better than strawberry; strawberry made him itch.

“Hooo.”  Discord cracked an eye open.  His perfect moment had been shattered by the call of a messenger owl to his left.  The messenger seemed completely at ease with her surrounding, despite the fact that her vertical axis was at thirty-seven degrees to her quarry's.  The silver crystal that made her perch left her completely unfazed.

“Someone sent me mail?” he said, reaching out with his eagle's claw.  “I wonder who it’s from.”

A quick perusal of the letter left Discord with his eyebrows knitted together in thought.  He had to snatch them up quickly and separate them before they spawned.  “Alice wants to see me in regard to the guardianship of Harry Potter?  Dumbledore approached her to sign all legal rights over to him?  Hmmmm, I think not.  I wonder, should I show this to Rarity or just take care of it myself?”

The thought of Rarity finding out about the attempt through means other than himself sent a chill through Discord’s spine, freezing solid the pudding he had been relaxing in.  Sighing, he reached into the icy desert and withdrew a pudding pop.  Sticking it in his mouth, he muttered, “I do think a visit with a certain white unicorn is required.”





“Ooooooo.”  The girls collectively cooed walking through the entrance way of the mall.

“Where to first?” Seamus asked gesturing to the multitude of stores.  “I don’t know this mall, but there should be a map nearby.”

“This is near my house,” Hermione interjected.  “I’m familiar with it.”

“New clothes for Harry first,” Lavender insisted, pointing at a clothes store, just a little way down.  “None of the ones he’s wearing fit properly.

Harry seemed to shrink in on himself at that declaration.

“Neville and Ron could use more muggle-looking clothes as well,” Seamus suggested.





Rarity had just received another owl-delivered package.  It came as a surprise to nopony that she did not want to be alone when she opened it.  For that reason, she made her way, once again, to Twilight’s library.  Fortuitously, Twilight and Fluttershy were both present.

“Hello Rarity,” Twilight said as Rarity entered the library, levitating a package.  “What do you have there?”

“Sweetie sent the new trunks I ordered,” Rarity stated, lowering the package so Twilight and Fluttershy could see the contents.  “She also sent three extra trunks colored like each of the princesses.”

“That was thoughtful of her,” Fluttershy said approvingly.

“Yes, it never hurts to suck up every now and then,” Discord agreed, looking over Fluttershy’s shoulder.

“Eeeeek!” Fluttershy squealed, leaping forward as both Rarity and Twilight flattened their ears and looked at Discord in surprise.

A remorseful look immediately dominated Discord’s face as he looked at the cowering Fluttershy.  “I’m sorry,” he said tapping his claws together.  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Fluttershy.”

No longer shaking, Fluttershy said, “That’s all right; I know you weren’t trying to sneak up on me.  You just caught me off guard.”  She beamed a shy smile at him, freezing Discord in place for a few seconds.

Without a word, the other two mares in the room watched the interaction and smirked.

Still looking at Fluttershy, Discord offered Rarity a letter.

“What’s this?” Rarity asked accepting the paper, it wasn’t long before her eyes narrowed and she said, “I can’t believe the nerve of that stallion.”  She floated the letter back to its owner.  “Discord darling, would you mind waiting here a for few minutes?  I simply must go fetch my bat.”





“Button Mash would have an absolute field day in here,” Scootaloo said, looking around at all the video games in the arcade.  “We have just the four games in our whole town and he goes nuts over them as it is.”

Keeping her voice low so as not to overheard, Hermione asked, “You have video games back home?”

“Yeah.”  Scootaloo nodded.   “Though I don’t have the bits to indulge that often.”

Hermione looked at her strangely.

“What?” Scootaloo asked.

“I would have thought that you’d have murdered the word 'indulge'.”  Hermione said, “You used it perfectly.”

It was Scootaloo’s turn to look at Hermione strangely.

“Anyway, you have magic all over the place.  How does it not fry the electronics like Hogwarts does?” Hermione continued after making sure no one was close enough to overhear.

“Magic fries electronics?” Scootaloo asked.  “That can’t be right.  Twilight has all kinds of electric do dads in her basement and they never fry.”

“Magic and electricity don’t mix well,” Hermione insisted.

“We’ll just have to ask her in our next letter,” Scootaloo said.  “Let’s go, Apple Bloom is handing out bits for the games and I wanna play.”

“They’re called tokens,” Hermione corrected as she followed her purple-haired friend.





As soon as classes had let out for the day, Abigail had made a beeline for the bus.  Soon, she was in London proper and standing in front of something that should not be there.  There had been many times she had followed her mother into that particular bookstore.  It was one of her mother’s favorites, after all.  If she were lucky, she could then talk her mother into visiting the record store right next door.  Only, the record shop was no longer right next door.  How was it possible to build a pub right between two stores that had been next to each other?

Wouldn’t you just know it, the beetle on her shoulder was indicating that she should enter the pub.  Of course, the beetle who could write in a language that she didn’t know yet somehow could read, wanted her to enter the pub that shouldn’t be there.





Dumbledore looked up from the paperwork he had been perusing.  His deputy headmistress was on her was up the stairs.  It was not surprising that she knew he was back.  The wards had passed back to him as soon as he had exited the floo.  It was also obvious that she had waited until after her last class of the day to seek him out.

Adopting a smile, he called out, “Come in Minerva; I’ve been expecting you.”

He was not prepared for the frown she returned upon the door opening.   “I told you that they were the worst kind of muggles,” she said by way of greetings.





“Ahhhhhhh!” Lavender screamed as a volley of projectiles rained down on her location.  “No fair teaming up like that!”

“You’re not allowed to open those boxes like that!” the toy store attendant yelled.  “Now, you’ll have to pay for those foam guns.”

“Sweetie, make sure you get that scooter, too,” Scootaloo said, taking aim at Neville.

“Okay!” Sweetie Belle said, taking out a bundle of bullseyes.  “Dean, hurry up and bring those board games!”





Once he had entered the common room, Euan whistled loudly for attention.  “Whose turn is it to feed Mouse?” he asked.  “He’s lurking around out here getting ready to pounce.”

A seventh-year girl lifted her robe and rolled up a pants leg.  “I’m sorry; I forgot all about him.  It’s my turn.”





“Sushi is the best!” Scootaloo proclaimed as they exited the restaurant and started down the mall walkway, shopping bags in hand.

“It was okay.” Apple Bloom said, “Surprisingly filling fo’ how small it is.”

“I loved the little boats that floated by with the choices.” Parvati said.

“They could have cooked it more,” Ron complained.   “Not proper English cooking or anything.”

“You need to expand your horizons.”  Hermione sniffed, “Besides that didn’t stop you from sampling just about everything they had.”

“That was an expensive meal,” Dean noted.  “Next time we should stick with pizza.”

“It did cost more than all the clothes we bought,” Sweetie said, “but we're still within Hermione's budget.”

“So?” Lavender asked, “back to the arcade?  I want another go at beating Scootaloo.”

“How about a movie instead?” Seamus suggested.  “We can head over to the theaters and see what’s playing.”

“That’s funny,” a woman’s voice said from behind.  “We had a similar thought and were headed that way ourselves.”

With a start, the children turned and beheld an older couple smiling at them from just a few feet away.

“Mum!  Dad!” a certain girl gasped at the sight.

“Hello Hermione,” the man said, “Why don’t you introduce us to your friends?”

“Busted,” Seamus sighed.

 
> Chapter 29: Movie Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma Granger surveyed the group of apprehensive children in front of her.  Finding her daughter in the mall with a group of friends had been a surprise.  After all, the school that she was attending was a considerable distance away.  If she hadn’t been visited by the school’s deputy headmistress on a moment’s whim, Emma would have been surprised at the sheer mobility of the magical community.  The kids probably used the floo network she had read about.  Of course, the school must know where they were.  There was no way that a group of students, just a little over a week in, could figure a way to sneak off campus and travel halfway across the isles.  It was, though, alarming to see them out and about without supervision.

The awkwardness of the moment was underscored by the din of the shoppers as they flowed past the group like a river around a boulder.  Nervously, Hermione introduced the herd.  Emma raised an eyebrow as Hermione named the foreigners in the group.  Their wild hair colors spoke of iconoclastic beliefs.

“So, did you have any particular movie in mind?” Emma asked, trying to break the ice and establish rapport with the children.

“And where is your supervision?”  Emma winced as her husband Dan cut straight to the heart of the matter.

“Supervision?” the vibrant redhead that Hermione had introduced as "Apple" said, “Sweetie, go get the twins.”

“Twins?” the child with the two-toned lavender and pink hair echoed.  “Yeah, just a sec.”  She did a quick scan of the surroundings before hurrying off in a random direction, followed by one of the boys, the one with red hair.

Dan watched them go, clearly fighting the urge to tag along.

“So?”  Emma prompted again, “Movie?”

“We were just going to see what’s playing,” the boy introduced as "Seamus" answered.  “No plans, really.”





Moving at just short of a sprint, Sweetie skidded into the family restroom.

“Anyone in here?” she called out even as Ron closed the door behind them.  Hearing no reply, she called, “Philomena!”

Flames filled her vision and coalesced into an avian form.  Sweetie Belle addressed the bird.  “Philomena, please go grab the twins and bring them right here.  We need them.”

Philomena tilted her head questioningly before trilling and vanishing once more.  Soon, there was another flash of flames, and a pair of redheads was staring around the bathroom in alarm.

“What?” one of them started.

“Thanks for the help Philomena,” Sweetie interjected.  “We’ll see you later.  You two, hurry!  Put your robes in this bag.  Hermione says not to wear them around here.”

“What?” the other twin asked, complying with the demand.

“Hurry up,” Ron said.  “I hear someone coming.”





The thorn bush provided cover, a hiding place, an obstacle between him and death.  He was very glad for the barrier it presented.  Even so, he was sure the predator was aware of his presence; surely, the scent of his terror had tipped it off.  Luckily, it didn’t seem to be hungry.  Not wanting any kind of confrontation, he froze and quietly watched the horror prowl through the clearing.

The funny thing was, he was reasonably sure that manticores were supposed to be extinct.





In Snape’s private workroom, a crystalline mass sat on his central workstation.  Snape closely watched the oddity slowly shift through a spectrum of rainbow colors.  He honestly did not know what to make of it.  Every diagnostic spell he had attempted had failed miserably.  As far as his magic was concerned, the object didn’t exist.  Yet here it was, sitting on his workbench.

When his first-year students had submitted their potion attempt that morning, he had been unable to think of any technique that could have produced such a result.  Not wanting to take chances, he had attempted to vanish the debris.  The material did not so much resist the endeavor so much as it just ignored it.  Next, he tried levitating it into a secure box, only for it to stay firmly situated on his desk.  In the end, Snape had been forced to use a pair of tongs and some dragon hide gloves to move it.

Immediately after his last class, Snape had begun a fruitless series of attempts to dispose of the material.  Every spell cast had simply dispersed upon contact.  He even attempted the killing curse.  That, at the very least, should have chipped it.  Instead, there was absolutely no effect.  The object just sat there and changed its color every few seconds.

Next, he had tried a barrage of potions and solutions.  He might as well have been pouring water on it for all the good it did.  Even Everfield’s Extreme Obliterating Elixir failed to elicit any reaction, except for the brand-new hole on his workbench.





“Got them!”  Emma heard the girl, "Sweetie", call out as she rejoined the group.  She had left with one redheaded boy and returned with three.  The two newcomers were obviously older, and, unless she missed her guess, brothers of the first.  From their wide eyes, it was likely they were expecting to be brought to task for leaving their charges unattended.

“Hello,” Emma said giving the older boys a pointed glare.  “How nice of you to join us.”

“Hello,” they chorused in one voice, their eyes darting every which way as if looking for an escape route.  Emma suspected that her own daughter had done more to supervise her classmates than these two.  If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that Hermione was more than up to the task.  Still, it was good to see that there were a couple of older students nearby.

Emma’s husband, Dan chuckled openly as he watched one of the twins nudge the other and nod toward a group of girls walking by.  Well, that explained why they had wandered off earlier; hormones were a harsh mistress.  They wouldn’t be the first group of teenagers more interested in watching members of the opposite sex when the alternative was watching their younger siblings.

“Now that we are all here,” Dan said, “shall we pick a movie?”

“What horror movies are playing?” one of the boys asked.

“Dean,” Hermione admonished, “I hardly think a horror film would be the best choice.  Remember, this will be the first movie some of us have ever seen.”

“Hermione,” Dean countered, “we literally have living ghosts floating all over the place.  Horror films are more like comedic satire than anything else.”

Emma winced at the reminder.  “Why don’t we wander over and see what’s playing before we make any decisions?”

Dramatically, Dan clapped his hands on the shoulders of the twins, who were in the process of drifting after the group of girls they had spotted earlier.  “Yes, let’s all stick together this time.”

“Yes, sir,” one twin piped up.

“Wouldn’t want you thinking we were irresponsible or anything,” the other finished for him, without taking his eyes off the girls.  Emma had to stifle a giggle.

“No, we wouldn’t want that now,” a man in a dapper brown suit and standing just two feet to Emma’s left said.  “You two are doing a remarkable job, keeping these children out of trouble.”

Emma startled at the man’s sudden appearance, even as she heard the foreigners call out, “Discord!”  He was wearing gloves and wingtip shoes, each sporting a different color.  His fashion choices clearly identified him as a wizard.  With that realization, Emma lost all her concerns over her daughter’s presence in the mall.  Obviously, the adults knew where she was.

“I apologize for interrupting your outing,” the wizard said, “but decisions regarding Harry’s future are underway and we realized we haven’t gotten his input.  It is a matter in which he deserves a say.”

“My future?” the boy with messy black hair asked.

“Yes,” Discord said, and Emma realized his eyes were mismatched.  “Certain parties are trying to make it so you have to return to your aunt’s care.”

Emma certainly did not miss the boy’s response to that news.  The child flinched violently and shrunk in on himself.  The look of dread he wore could not have been faked.  Dan saw the reaction as well and reached out to place a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder only to pull back when the boy cringed away from the near contact.  Surprisingly, several of the girls in the group noticed as well.  Hermione was not alone in having a scowl cross her lips as the other children closed ranks around Harry.

Emma raised her gaze to the wizard called "Discord" and shot him a question with her eyes.  His response was a subtle shake of his head.  His lips thinned to a small frown before he forced another smile.

“So, Harry, would you mind coming with me?” Discord asked in a cheerful voice, which belied the expression Emma had just seen him display.

Harry hesitated.  Without warning, was hugged on one side by Sweetie and the other by Parvati.  Meanwhile, the smaller redheaded girl looked on jealously.

“Go with him,” Sweetie said encouragingly.  “He can help.”

“Yes, sir.”  With sudden determination, Harry firmly stepped forward and said, “I’d like that very much.”

“Very good my boy.”  Discord smiled and Emma noted that he kept his hands closely at his sides, not making any threating gestures.





Professor Snape swept into the Great Hall with his usual flair.  A quick glance showed that the attendance at his house’s table was still sparse, but that would change come Monday.  On Monday, the task of reintegrating grieving children back into the school’s culture would begin.

Curiously, the Gryffindor table also had a noticeable decrease in participation.  Meanwhile, it looked like the headmaster had finally decided it was time to put in an appearance as well.

Sitting at the head table, he opened with a casual statement.  “It would appear that we are missing the entire Gryffindor first-year class.”

Professor Sprout shrugged as she took a sip.  “It’s not like they don’t have fifteen kitchens available and are aware that they can order groceries via owl,” she said into her goblet.  “I won’t be surprised when the entire house decides not to turn up for a meal now and again.”

Dumbledore glanced at the Gryffindor table then at his deputy headmistress and said nothing.

Suddenly, the bass thump of an explosion echoed throughout the castle.  It wasn’t as if the walls themselves shook, but it was very audible.  It effectively ended all conversation as everyone strained to listen.

As one the professors turned to the headmaster.  It was he who held the wards and would most likely be able to offer some insight.

“Severus’ lab,” was all the old wizard said as he leapt from his seat and headed out of the Great Hall.





With a snap of the man’s fingers and a flash of light, they were somewhere else.  For a brief instant, Harry had second thoughts about following Discord out of the mall.

Harry had been exposed to a lot in the last week.  The magic castle, a phoenix, a unicorn, heck even the talking portraits were becoming mundane.  All of that did not prepare him for his current locale.  Wherever he was seemed to laugh in the face of all the laws of physics.  There wasn’t really just one thing that made the experience noteworthy.  The stairway leading nowhere was just silly.  The goldfish swimming through the air, on their way to do whatever, were just cute.  However, Harry was certain that shrubs shouldn’t be sprouting cupcakes, let alone be growing indoors.  The less said about the bubbling wallpaper, the better.  Wallcoverings should not emit little paper balls that floated away.

“Welcome to my home,” Discord said with a sweep of his arm, and Harry saw that there were people waiting for them.  They were sitting around a table situated on the ceiling.  No, wait, Harry was on the ceiling, they were on the floor!

A weak force compelled him to join the others.  Hello gravity!





Alice wound her way through the empty halls of the Ministry.  She had come expecting nothing but a skeleton crew.  Much to her pleasant surprise, the wizard in the records department had told her that all inquiries into Harry Potter were being handled by Judge Brown, and he had just received a memo from her requesting certain records.  The judge should still be in her office, even at this hour.

With a little luck, Discord would be showing up later this evening, but Alice felt it prudent to do her homework first, thus, her trip to the Ministry.  It wasn’t like she didn’t now have a small office here anyway; that was one of the perks of being a Wizengamot member.  With a confident stride, she marched up to the judge’s door and resolutely knocked.  There were a few seconds pause before the door swung open soundlessly, and Alice saw the judge sitting behind her desk with her wand in hand.

“May I help you?” the judge inquired with a questioning look, surprised to have a visitor so late in the day.

“I’m sorry to bother you so late,” Alice said respectfully.  “I was told to come to you with any questions regarding Harry Potter.”

Judge Brown narrowed her eyes and motioned toward her visitor’s chairs.  “Come in,” she ordered. A swish of the judge’s wand removed Alice’s route of retreat as soon as the young woman crossed the threshold.

“What is your interest in Harry Potter?" Judge Brown demanded as soon as Alice sat down.

Alice resembled a deer caught in headlights at the abruptness of the inquisition.

“Um, I might be responsible for him?” Alice said; it was decidedly a question.

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

Alice sat as straight as she could and place her hands in her lap.  “Dumbledore stopped by earlier and was strongly requesting that I sign over all guardianship to him since Lord Black is supposed to be his godfather and is in no condition to make decisions regarding a child.  He said as acting head of house, I was entitled to do that.”

“Oh, he did, now did he?” the older woman locked Alice in a menacing glower.  “Please tell me you did no such thing.”

“No ma’am, no your honor.”  Alice fumbled her words.

“I see.”  Judge Brown examined the woman sitting before her.  “Are you here to play politics or do you care about the best interests of the child?”

“The best interests of the child,” Alice promptly said.

Judge Brown sighed.  “Your answer would be the same either way,” she noted.

Alice obediently nodded her head.

The judge stared at Alice’s rigid form for a few more second’s before saying, “You can relax; I’m not going to hex you.”

Alice let out a relieved sigh, but did not lose her proper posture.  “Thank you.”

“Dumbledore having guardianship would not be in the boy’s best interest,” Judge Brown said, opening a drawer on her desk.  “His previous actions in that regard have been nothing short of atrocious.  If it were not for the actions of Mr. Discord, I fear Mr. Potter would have slipped through the cracks.”  She produced a packet of papers.  “This contract with the Belle family is how he managed to rescue the boy from his previous circumstances.

Alice accepted the offered paperwork and ran her eyes over it.  “It’s a marriage contract?”

“Yes,” replied the judge as she nodded, “written in such a way as to leave both parties ample opportunity to negate the eventual nuptials while providing Mrs. Belle all the authority she will need to keep the child safe.”

“I could mess this up if I sign the wrong thing?” Alice asked, still reading.

“You could make the situation problematic,” the judge agreed.  “However, Mrs. Belle has made a magical oath stating that she has Potter’s best interests at heart, and Dumbledore refused to make a similar commitment.  It would be messy, but I could override a lot on those premises alone.”

“Is this the best option for Harry, or are there other options I should consider?”

Judge Brown smiled at the woman still reading the contract.  “I’ve met Mrs. Belle and witnessed her oath.  On top of that, her display against Dumbledore earlier this week exemplifies her commitment to the minor’s welfare.  Harry is in good hands with her.”

“What exactly did Dumbledore do?” Alice asked, finally lifting her eyes from the paperwork.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Judge Brown informed her.  “Your status in regards to the minor is iffy at best.  There is much I cannot share with you at this point in time.”

“Fair enough,” Alice said reaching for a quill sitting on the judge’s desk.

“And what exactly are you planning to do?” the judge asked, observing her actions.

“I’m signing and dating this so Dumbledore can’t trick Lord Black into helping him in the future,” Alice said.





Somewhere deep in the Ministry, the Department of Mysteries was housed.  The extraordinary level of secrecy about its work inspired the nickname for its members -- the Unspeakables.  They lived the hackneyed saying, "Those who know do not say."

In one of those offices, well-hidden from the public eye, Saul Croaker sat behind his desk.  A permanent charm kept the stench of too many hours without relief at bay.  His scowl deepened as he scrutinized the latest reports that his department had produced.  It had been an incredibly busy week for the Unspeakables, and these reports indicated that there was no relief in sight.

Under any other circumstance, the precipitous and complete reworking of the Wizengamot would have been their main concern.  The fact that it was third on their list of priorities spoke volumes to just how hectic the week had been.

The second most important item led to a dead end.  While a reliable means to resurrect ghosts would have proven invaluable, needing both a unicorn and a phoenix to complete the ritual had proven problematic, especially since the unicorn had resolutely refused to participate anymore.  Worse, who knew when the next individual with the trust of both a unicorn and a phoenix would emerge?  If he had been asked just two weeks ago, Croaker would have insisted that the personalities that attracted each of those species were almost diametrically opposed to each other.  How the little girl achieved such a feat was a mystery.

Then, there was the fourth item on the priority list, a hidden magical community, unknown to the rest of the world.  At the best current guess, Equestria was a warded island nation, a la Atlantis.  Croaker and his team had spent hours speculating on the importance and motivations of this new culture's representatives.  One of the most credible hypotheses to emerge was that they were having a population problem, most likely caused by inbreeding.  Their outrageous hair colors and the fact that they were mainly only exposing females to the outside world supported this conclusion.  Also, there was the fact that the one known male was heterochromatic.

Their rapid acquisition of a marriage contract for such a young student only served to support the theory.  This was causing a large amount of anticipation among the wizarding communities around the world.  Just about every magical government was anxious to absorb any extra women they may be willing to export, women who were obviously strong in magic.  A casual conversation with the Hogwarts's staff confirmed their prowess.  That was evident even before the incident in which Mrs. Belle had handily beaten Dumbledore.  There had been no contest in that encounter.

Any one of these situations would have been enough to stir up his department like a stick taken to an anthill.  It was astonishing that they were secondary concerns at best.  No, there was a greater concern.

The door to Croaker’s office flew open, without any warning knock.  “Sir!” the wizard who rushed in all but screamed, gaining Croaker’s immediate and undivided attention.  This individual was not known to be excitable, just the opposite, in fact.  “Sir, five more have gone belly up.  Sir, Prophecy Prime was one of the casualties.”

That had been the main worry of his department all week.  Prophecies had been crumpling left and right.  Once unbreakable glimpses of the future were dissolving into rainbow-colored powder.  Notably, Prophecy Prime had been his department’s mandate, its very reason for existing.  Now, it was gone.

Leaning back in his chair, Croaker let a smile claim his lips.   “Excellent,” he drawled as hope spread throughout his being.





“Hello, Harry,” the woman who had caught him said.  “My name is Rarity, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Harry, floating upside-down and surrounded by a magical sky-blue aura, waved and said, “Hello.” Had he been a few years older, he would have marveled at the woman's incredible beauty.

“I do apologize for Discord’s flair for dramatics,” the purple-haired woman continued, “but we did feel that his domain would be best for this meeting, considering that I am currently barred from Britain.”

“It’s all right,” Harry said, starting to enjoy his impromptu flight.  “I was just caught off guard; that’s all.”

“But where are my manners?” Rarity asked.  “I should introduce you to my friends.  First may I introduce Twilight Sparkle.”

A woman with dark purple and pink hair stopped examining her own hands long enough to wave and say, “Hi!  Pleased to meet you.”  She had to be Sweetie’s mother or some close relative; the color scheme was just too similar.  Come to think of it, with her purple hair, Rarity was probably related to Scootaloo.

“And I’d also like you to meet Fluttershy.”  At the mention of her name, the extraordinarily beautiful pink-haired woman leapt from her seat and rushed over to guide Harry down to the floor.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed, wrapping Harry in a hug.  “You’ve been through so much.”

Harry froze; he had received more hugs in the last week than he had in all of his previous memory.  He still wasn’t sure what to do about them, aside from staying still and accepting the contact.  Despite the discomfort they made him feel, they were a decidedly welcome addition to his life.





The herd left the theater in a huddled, somewhat sticky mass.  Noisily, their steps tore fibers from the carpeting.  Somehow, they avoided tripping over each other despite the lack of space between the individual members.

“I told you a horror movie was a bad idea,” Hermione said from somewhere in the center of the jumbled mob.

“Eh, it was rather lame,” Dean said even as Parvati huddled close for reassurance.  “I’ve seen worse.”

“I move that Dean doesn’t pick the movies in the future,” Sweetie Belle piped up.

“I second the motion,” Scootaloo announced.

“A motion to restrict movie choices from Dean has been proposed and seconded,” Apple Bloom’s voice declared.  “All in favor?”

“Aye!” the members of the herd chorused.

“Opposed?” Apple Bloom continued.

“Hey!” Dean protested.

“Motion carried.  Dean is hereby forbidden to pick movies in the future,” Apple Bloom concluded.

“Hey!” Dean repeated.

Emma and Dan followed after the children, snickering.





Harry’s existence had passed surreal ages ago.  In retrospect, he should have known sanity was optional as soon as he appeared in Discord’s house.  Learning that Dumbledore had been instrumental in his placement with the Dursleys had done little to shape his opinion of the headmaster; he had yet to even meet the wizard.  All that news had done was tell him who not to trust.

It hadn’t taken much conversation to convince the adults that he didn’t want to go back to his aunt’s, ever.  Harry was pleased to find that they were more than willing to help him with that.

Harry sighed and ruffled his wings.  What had happened next had been unpredictable to say the least.  Rarity had insisted that Harry be taken to the hospital for a checkup.  Such medical attention was another novelty in Harry’s life that was becoming commonplace.  In response to that decision, Discord had produced a ring that he claimed would turn Harry into a pony.  Wouldn’t you just guess; it did exactly that.  Harry was still shocked whenever he went to look at his hands and saw a blue hoof instead.  If he were a girl, he would most likely have called it a royal blue hoof.  But he was a bloke, darn it.  The hoof was blue, just blue.

It had been a complete mystery to Harry as to why he would need to become a pony.  He was about to ask when the women in Discord's room transformed into mares whose withers were almost at his waist level.  If anyone were to ask, he would insist he absolutely did not squeal and pet them and scratch behind their ears.  He was a bloke, darn it!

So, there he was, sitting on an examination table as giant colorful ponies ran around doing all kinds of unknown tests.  A good portion of them were unicorns, making Harry wonder what it would be like to have a horn sticking out of his forehead.  None of them looked like Magah; they were stockier and their faces were more compact, with large eyes.  And, they were doting over him like there was no tomorrow.

There were also several that he learned were called earth ponies; they were running around just as much as the unicorns.  All of them were wearing headgear that screamed their professions -- doctors and nurses.  Lastly, there was a pair of pegasi who monitored the entire proceedings.  They each bore a look that left little doubt that they wanted to hurt someone.  Harry dearly hoped that someone wasn’t he.





The three mares were sitting in the waiting room for Canterlot General.  Discord had begged off, stating that he really had to talk to Alice about the developing situation.  He had teleported to London while sending the others to the hospital, where the mares now waited for the results of the physical.  There was some hope that Harry's condition might not be as bad as the medical file had painted, hope that was anorexic at best.  They had to be sure.  Twilight had her muzzle in a book as Rarity and Fluttershy paced in the center of the room, where carpeting muffled their hoofbeats.

In due time, a yellow unicorn mare in a nurse’s cap entered the waiting area, flanked by a pair of royal guards.  “Who here is responsible for Harry Potter?” she asked.

Rarity’s ears perked and she said, “That would be me, I’m reuuuuuurrrrggggggggk!”

Floating in the air, Rarity stared into eyes that were promising her a slow, painful death.  “I . . . want . . . answers.” the yellow unicorn said through gritted teeth.

“Woah!  Woah!” Twilight yelled as Fluttershy looked on, wide-eyed.  “Rarity just got guardianship this week!  You’re misdirecting your anger!”

The nurse looked at Twilight then back at Rarity.  “Where is the pony who did this?”

“Last I knew,” Rarity said, wetting her lips, “they were carting him off to the hospital.”

“I would like it very much for you to introduce him to me,” the nurse said, placing Rarity back on the ground.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get in line,” Rarity said, brushing imaginary dust off her withers with a forehoof.  “Princess Celestia and Princess Luna have claimed the head of the queue to talk to him.”

The nurse’s demeanor flipped and she beamed.  “I can live with that.  Wait?  Princesses Celestia and Luna?  What about Princess Cadance?”

“She hasn’t found out yet, as far as I know,” Twilight said trotting up to stand next to Rarity.

“I wonder how long that will last,” Fluttershy pondered meekly.





In every corner of the Canterlot Palace, alarms were blaring.  Guard ponies ran around with looks of panic, doing their best to herd the stampede of citizens out of harm’s way.

“Code ‘Name to be Determined Later’!  Code ‘Name to be Determined Later’!” one of the guard ponies with officer markings was yelling at the top of his unicorn-amplified lungs.   “We have a Code ‘Name to be Determined Later’!  This is not a drill!”

“Are you bucking kidding me?” demanded a junior officer as he skidded to a stop.  “Really, are you bucking kidding me!?”

“Shut up and get the civilians clear.”

 
> Chapter 30: Mob Rules
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The scents of lemon and ginger wafted through the air and the faculty approached the workshop's door.  Snape raised an eyebrow.  Perhaps they were overreacting.  He pushed open the door and froze when he saw what lay within.  The former workshop was a complete and utter disaster area.  It could be said, without much exaggeration, that the room was chaos given form.  As one would expect, shrapnel and scorch marks were on the walls, floor, and ceiling, but, fantastically, these formed outlandish patterns, inconsistent with the sphere of destruction from a normal explosion. They made for a pleasant mural, if one could get past the fact that they obviously were burn marks.

Despite the chaos, there seemed to be some pattern to the destruction in the rest of the room.  If one were to hold their head sideways and squint, it looked like reality decided to study under Pablo Picasso and leave behind a cubist nightmare.  What was left of the work tables was a jumbled mess of creation under the influence of things best not mentioned.  It looked as though the furniture had originally been made of toy bricks, smashed by a two-year-old with a sledgehammer, and then put back together by the very same child, but instead of settling on the original pieces, the child had gotten creative and added parts of other toys, candy, and whatever else he could get his grubby paws on.  In some places, the transformed furniture resembled clouds of crimson cotton candy, in others, it seemed more like a grey slimy mess.

Predictably, when the professors of Hogwarts saw the results of the deflagration, they promptly waved their wands to cast diagnostic spells.  Soon, they were all frowning as they examined their wands.  The diagnostics yielded inconsistent and contradictory results.  Dumbledore, however, had much more serious concerns. His analyses yielded nothing because his wand now refused to cooperate.





In the damp and drafty caverns under the bank, the goblins were in an uproar.  An archaic covenant had been invoked by a young witch.  The pact was so old that what little was known of its origins was cloudy at best.  There were no benefits in the deal for the goblins; they were bound to it by some very ancient magics, some very ancient soul magics.  They would not and could not charge this witch any fees or penalties.  Their efforts would yield neither profit nor recompense.  This was the least of their worries.  The girl had invoked something worse than a bad business deal.  She had, through powers that now seemed to rest inside her, implemented a most ancient and feared binding on their very people.  They had to do whatever she commanded, even though she hadn’t yet seemed to realize she had that effect on them.

The whispers ran wild.  There were screams of outrage as the news traveled.  The very idea should have been lost to time.  No one should even know such a possibility existed.  The magics involved should have been lost.  It was inconceivable that such a thing even existed.  Nevertheless, in the very core of their being they felt the truth of the matter.

After time unspoken, and despite the best efforts of generations of their kind, it had happened.

A new Goblin Lord had arisen.





Emma and Dan watched the herd crowd around the display in the electronics store.  Like children everywhere, they were enthralled by the game console currently being presented.

“This is so much smaller than the ones in the arcade,” Lavender said as she hogged the controller.

“There is a noticeable decrease in quality though,” Parvati noted, watching the sprite of a red-suited man jump around.

“I still like it,” Lavender insisted.

“We can tell.”  Seamus snickered, losing any hope that he’d get a turn.

“Are these common?” Neville asked Hermione, taking his eyes off the game long enough to observe her response.

“These just came out recently,” Hermione answered, “but the previous version has been out for years.”

“Well,” Sweetie said holding a new bag with a distinctive box sticking half way out, “they were reasonably priced.”

“How are you planning to get that to work at school?” Hermione asked, eyeing the latest purchase.

“Don’t know.” Sweetie shrugged, “a letter to Twilight will probably be all we need.”

“Still.” Dean commented, “You’d need a telly for that to work at all.”

“Apple Bloom’s got one,” Sweetie said, pointing to where the mentioned redhead was easily balancing a large box on her shoulder.

“Bloody!” Dan started after turning to look; he quickly rushed over to help the small girl with the heavy load.

Almost absently, Apple Bloom let him take the awkward box. “Thank you kindly,” she said once he had managed to stabilize the load.

Dumbfounded, the store attendant asked, “What have you been feeding her?  I'd get a hernia if I tried lifting that by myself.”

“She’ll eat anything within arm’s reach that’s not moving,” Parvati said, not taking her eyes off Lavender’s game.  “Give her a fork and even that’s fair game.”

“Hey!” Apple Bloom said indignantly.

“That’s it,” the attendant stated.  “I’m getting a gym membership.  Can’t have the little girls showing me up, now can I?”





The room was a riot of colors.  Whoever had painted the walls must have been colorblind.  The furniture wasn’t any better.  Beanbags chairs in a shocking array of pigmentation littered the floor.  Hidden lighting accentuated the brightly painted walls, chromatic beanbags, and the mercifully white door.

They had led him to this room and asked him to wait inside.  Not really having a choice, he complied.  Choosing a fluorescent orange beanbag that clashed horribly with his new blue coat, Harry sat and waited.

Peering at his new appendages, he could truly empathize with Scootaloo’s desire to fly.  What he really wanted to do was to get out and try out his new wings.  Instead, he had to wait.  Waiting was making him edgy.

After what seemed like forever, the door opened and admitted a crimson earth pony with a yellow mane done up in a bun. “Hello Harry Potter,” she said cheerfully, closing the door behind herself and plopping onto the lime green beanbag next to his own.

Harry saw that a picture of a brain surrounded by a stethoscope graced her flank.  “Hello,” he said tentatively.

“My name is Mending Psyche,” she enlightened him.  “We two are going to be spending some time together.”

“Okay.” Harry said warily.

“You don’t seem to trust me very much,” the mare observed.

Harry elected not to answer as he continued to eye her warily.

After getting no reply, Mending asked, “Are there any adults that you trust?”

Harry stopped to consider the question.  Were there any adults he trusted?  Sure, Hagrid was a friend, his first even.  Honestly, Hagrid reminded him of an overgrown kid more than anything else.  Other than that giant, were there any adults he actually trusted?

Noting Harry’s lack of a ready response, Mending prompted, “What about Rarity?”

“I just met her today,” Harry revealed.  “She says she’ll help me get away from the Dursleys, so I guess I trust her.”

“Mmmmmm.”  Mending nodded her head knowingly.  “That’s some interesting criteria for trusting somepony.”

“Where is she?” Harry asked.  “She said that I just had to have an exam before she returned me to my friends.”

“Your exam isn’t over with yet,” Mending stated.  “Besides, Rarity and her friends will have to talk to the Princess before she is allowed to take custody of you.”

Harry tilted his head questioningly.

“Tell me about the Dursleys,” Mending said, getting the conversation back on topic.  She did not miss the way the foal withdrew in on himself when she made the demand.





“There they are,” Neville said, pointing out the twins

Emma followed his finger and sure enough, there were the two wandering chaperones.  She wasn’t sure exactly when they had slipped away after the movie, but, predictably, they had found a group of girls to strike up a conversation with.

“Fred, George!” Apple Bloom shouted.  “It’s time to head back; we’re carrying half the stores here.”

“Coming!” one of the twins returned as they both backed away from the girls, waving.

“You two should be ashamed, getting lost like that,” Parvati berated them once they had rejoined the group.

“We couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” one twin said.

“Besides, you were with Hermione’s parents,” the other finished.

“Speaking of home,” Emma said, “Hermione, wouldn’t you like to invite your friends over instead of heading back to the school so soon?”

“We wouldn’t all fit in the car,” Hermione said, “especially, not with all of our purchases.”

“Isn’t there a floo point closer to home?” Dan inquired, as he struggled with the television.

“We can meet you at your house after we get this stuff where it belongs,” Sweetie suggested, “if that’s okay with you.”

“Yes, that will do nicely.” Emma said watching her husband hand his burden off to the twins.

“What do you have in here?” Fred asked, splitting the load with his twin.

“Rocks?” George asked, “or a miniature dragon maybe?”

The twins staggered under their loads. Sighing, Apple Bloom strolled up and relieved them of their burdens, “Come on then,” she said leading the herd out the doors and aiming for the alley where they had arrived.   "Ah want to get this stuff put away.”

The two responsible adults followed the children into the empty alleyway.

“Is there a hidden magical shop back here?” Emma asked, determined to see the students safely on their way.

“Um, no,” Dean said.

“Then how?” Dan asked.

“Philomena!” Sweetie called and with a burst of flames an elegant bird glided onto her shoulder.

“Bye Mum!  Dad!” Hermione waved.  “We’ll see you back at the house in a bit.”

The rest of the children said their goodbyes.  More flames came, and they were gone.

“I really want to know what they are feeding that girl.”  Dan rubbed his sore arms and grumbled once he and his wife were alone.





For over a decade, Safe Haven had been a guard pony. Too crass to be stationed in the palace itself, he had spent those years patrolling the streets of Canterlot.  Together with his partner, he had seen just about every crisis the city could produce.  He still shuddered at the thought of the Great Food Fight that had ravaged the restaurant district just three years prior.  There had been guacamole everywhere!

In spite of all the chaos he’d seen, there were things ponies just didn’t do.  Some things were just unthinkable.  The current situation would be giving him nightmares for the rest of his life.  He didn’t have all the details but the three mares he was herding to the Princess herself were somehow involved.  They claimed that they were trying to help the foal, and given their demeanor, Safe Haven was inclined to believe them.  The fact that they were the bearers of the Elements pointed to them being innocent.  Still, no chances were being taken.  As a result, a small mob was nearing the palace to request an audience with the rulers of the land.  That the mob consisted of just over half of the staff of the hospital only underscored the seriousness of the situation.

As they approached the main entrance to the palace, one of the castle guard ponies strolled forward to address the angry mob.  “Halt!” he commanded.  “What seems to be the problem here?”

“Hello, Solid Foundation,” the lavender unicorn that Safe Haven knew was related to the captain, said.  “There seems to be a minor misunderstanding and some misdirected anger.  These ponies are insisting that we be presented to Princess Celestia without delay.”

“Some misdirected anger?” Solid Foundation surveyed the impassioned ponies clustered around the three Element Bearers.  There was no word in the pony language for ‘lynching’, but it was apparent that this group was willing to invent one.  “Does this happen to have anything to do with that last letter you sent the princess?”

“Maybe?” the lavender unicorn admitted.  “Somewhat? . . .Okay, there might just be an undeniable connection.”

Solid Foundation had stopped listening at the word "maybe" and was already sending runners to alert the rest of the guards.





Comfortable in their car, the couple made their way home.  Once again, Dan got directly to the point.  “You realize that the twins weren’t in the mall when we got there.  That’s why they sent Sweetie to go get them.”

“Let them think they’re getting away with something.”  Emma smirked.  “We don’t want them to learn that they are so transparent, yet.  If we try reining them in, they are only going to get sneakier about it.  I can think of worse things they could do than spending the afternoon at the mall.”

“How long before they start thinking of them, too?”

“Dan, despite your wishes, our daughter is growing up.”  Emma comfortingly patted him on his knee.  “We have to trust her having a ridiculous level of mobility.  Besides, the witches obviously have a way to keep track of them.  Discord had no problem tracking them down.”

“She’s too young,” Dan complained.

“She is,” Emma agreed.  “She also has access to resources a normal almost twelve-year-old wouldn’t have.”

“There are blokes out there just waiting to snatch up unsuspecting little girls,” Dan insisted.

“They don’t attack groups and besides, I’d like to see one have a go at Apple.  She’d put him in his place.”

“What are they feeding that girl?”  A frown crossed Dan’s face.   “That telly was bloody heavy and she barely registered its weight at all.”

“I’m sure magic is involved somehow.”  Emma shrugged.  “It just proves my point; young or not, those children are not targets.  I know you want to keep them safe, but clipping their wings is only going to make them rebel.”

“They have a bird that can whisk them hundreds of miles in a blink of the eye,” Dan lamented.

“In a few years, they are going to be able to pop all over the country with just a thought,” Emma countered.  “It's best to just get used to the notion now.”

“Pop all over the country?”  Dan glanced at his wife before returning his attention back to the road.

“Professor McGonagall stopped by at a moment’s notice, without a second thought,” Emma said.  “Apparently, it’s a thing witches and wizards do.”

Dan sighed at the news.  “I suppose getting her a pocket phone would be the best idea then.”

“Magic and electricity aren’t supposed to mix well,” Emma said.

“They just bought a gaming console,” Dan countered.  “They’ve got some way around that.”





Their feet scarcely touched the floor of the dormitory before Magah was all over them.  The large unicorn started with Sweetie Belle, sniffing her all over and nudging her roughly to test for injuries.  Then she moved to Seamus, rudely knocking him on his back in her haste to do a once over.  Scootaloo’s attempt to make a break for the nearest trunk was interrupted as Magah snapped her neck out to capture the girl’s blouse in her teeth.

“Mad unicorn! Mad unicorn!” Lavender squealed when she was next.

“Yeah, she does seem irate,” George said, backing up to the wall.

“I think she knows you weren’t in your trunks.” Fred chortled.

“Halp!” came Parvati’s muffle cry as she received a face full of white fur.

The equine quickly inspected each of the herd, then checked them a second time.  When she was done she pranced around the room franticly looking at each child in turn.

“What’s her problem?” Dean asked.  “None of us are hurt.”

“Well it’s obvious,” Fred said.

“Harry’s not here,” George finished.





The foal was starting to get irritated by Mending’s constant barrage of personal questions.  His attitude clearly asked, "Why won’t she just leave me alone?"  Still reclining on his beanbag, Harry had unconsciously ruffled his feathers and his ears lay flat against his skull.

Well-versed in blatantly obvious pony body language, Mending Psyche changed her tactics.  “Are you hungry?  You haven’t eaten since you got here.”

“No,” Harry said, “I had sushi before I came here; I’m still full.”

“Sushi?”

“Hermione thought we should expand our horizons.”  Harry nodded.  “She took us to a restaurant that served sushi.”

“Hermione is one of your classmates at Hogwarts?” Mending prodded.

“Yeah.”

“So?”  Mending blinked.  “Sushi?”

“Yeah, it’s fancy raw fish with rice, seaweed, and other things.”

“Raw fish?” Mending asked.  “You ate raw fish?  I know some pegasi are partial to fish, but they normally cook it first.”

“Well, it isn’t steak, but it’s actually rather good,” Harry conceded.  “I hadn’t tried it before today.  I’m glad Hermione thought to suggest it.”

“Steak?”  Mending inquired.

“Yeah, steak.”

“What’s steak?” Mending urged.

“I’m not sure exactly what cuts of meat are steak,” Harry said.

“Meat?” Mending ears perked up as she analyzed the foal before her.  “You regularly eat meat?  Of what animal?”

“I’m pretty sure that steak is normally cow,” Harry disclosed.

“Cow?!” Mending’s professionalism broke, as did her voice, “You’ve eaten the flesh of cows?!”

“Is there something wrong with eating cows?”  Startled, the foal shrunk back.  He didn’t appear to be goading her to get a reaction.  He sincerely saw nothing wrong with eating cows.  The already abominable situation had just jumped up the scale of gruesome to achieve previously unheard-of levels of horror.





The herd had stashed their purchases in Scootaloo’s trunk.  The task was made harder by an overprotective unicorn trying to stay close, including several more attempts to squeeze herself into the trunk.

“What are we going to do?”  Hermione fretted.  “There’s no way she’s going to be happy with us leaving again, and my parents are going to be waiting for us.”

“We could just take her with us,” Scootaloo suggested.

“A unicorn in a muggle neighborhood wouldn’t go over well,” Parvati asserted.

“We’re just going into the house,” Neville said.  “It couldn’t be that bad.”

“That has the potential of going so pear-shaped that it’s not even funny,” Dean said.

“Wait.”  Ginny spoke up.  “I have an idea.”





Princess Celestia was holding court later than was her norm.  Recent events had created a backlog.  Sighing, she glanced at the ponies in line still patiently waiting to be heard.  Soon, she would be lowering the sun and it would be her sister’s turn.

Without warning, a host of guard ponies marched into the room. “Attention everypony,” the captain of her guard announced. “We regret to inform you that court is closed for the day.  Take the ticket that the guard gives you, and you will have the same place in line tomorrow.”

Celestia was as surprised as the other ponies in the room, but raised no objections.  Curiously, she watched the guards herd the petitioners from the room, ignoring every complaint and challenge.  They weren’t taking "no" for an answer.  When a minor noble started to raise a fuss, a unicorn guard just bodily hauled her into the air, going so far as to wrap magic around her muzzle to keep her quiet.

“Is there something the matter?” Celestia asked, unsure what to make of the unusual behavior.  “I assure you I’m capable of seeing the rest of the petitioners today.”

“Yes,” the captain said, “something has come up.”





Outside the throne room, the guards were mustering.  Every available hoof was in attendance, including the reservists.

“Listen up!” an officer ordered.  “We have a potential situation unfolding.  Prepare for a code ‘Tempest” and possibly a code ‘Nightshade’ as well.  Also, a code . . . Have we decided what to call it yet?”

“Code ‘Heart Attack’?” one guard suggested.

“’Heart Breaker,” another offered.

“Heart Ache?”

“Broken Heart” was suggested.

“Code ‘Da buck just happened?’”

“Code ‘liquid tears’?”

“Idiot, all tears are liquid.”

“Code ‘Walking Nightmare’.”

“Trotting Nightmare.”

“I vote ‘Passion Pout’.”

“Amour Barrage.”

“Delightful Onslaught.”

“Are you serious?”

“Pink Incursion?”

“Now you’re just getting absurd.”





Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk and glared at the wand sitting on it.  It had been his most prized possession ever since he had won it from Grindelwald.  It was much more than just another wand.  It was safe to say that it was "the wand", a powerful artifact in its own right.  It was said to be the most powerful wand ever to exist.  Fickle, it was a wand that accepted only one master.

The only way to become its owner was to beat the previous holder.  It would resist being used in any manner by anyone else.  For years, Dumbledore had been its wizard, confident in his stewardship of the relic.

Now, it spurned his call.





“Twilight?” Princess Celestia said as her student and her friends led a mass of ponies into the throne room.  Unless Celestia missed her guess, a lot of those ponies were upset.

“Hello Princess,” Twilight said, lacking her normal cheer.

“Hello Princess Celestia.”  Rarity waved.  “I apologize for bothering you so late, but things seem to have gotten out of hoof.”

Fluttershy seemed to share a greeting as well, but it was lost behind her mane and trampled by the muttering of the trailing mob.

“A little out of hoof?” one grey pony wearing a stethoscope called out.  “I have never been so angry in my life.”

This started a flood of yelling as ponies tried to top each previous call of outrage.

“EVERYPONY PLEASE!” Celestia demanded, gaining instant silence.  “Give me a moment; we will get to the bottom of this.”  Turning to Twilight she asked, “What is this all about?”

“Well,” Twilight said, “to make a long story short, we decided to get a second opinion and brought Harry Potter to Canterlot General.”

Twilight must have blinked.  Celestia had been reclining on her cushion; now she was standing in front of Twilight with no transition in between.   “You brought the foal to Equestria?”

“Yes, we wanted to confirm the results of the previous medical report,” Twilight said to her mentor.

“What were the results?”

“We don’t know,” Rarity said.  “These ponies were understandably worried that we might somehow be involved and refused to share the report with us.”

Celestia looked at her and then shifted her focus to the group of medical personnel who had accompanied the horde.  A yellow unicorn nurse was floating a thick folder.  Without a word, Celestia reached out and claimed the paperwork as her own.

Onlookers watched a look claim her face, which they would be telling their foals about for generations to come . . . in quiet voices . . . trying not to wet themselves in the process.

There must have been a silent signal given, some sort of nonverbal cue, because suddenly there were guard ponies everywhere.  Each one grabbed the nearest civilian and hauled ass

. . .

or pony . . .

. . .

or whatever equine happened to be within reach.





There wasn’t much time left in the day when Applejack put away the last of her tools.  Work on the farm was never complete, but work for the day was finite.  She had done all her chores for the day.  Happily, one of the most time-consuming tasks had been taken up by the farm’s newest resident.

With scarcely a sound, that resident landed on the fence next to the orange mare.

“Howdy Lodestone,” she greeted with a smile; Big Mac’s new pet more than paid for his upkeep.  “Did the deliver go off without a hitch?”

“Hooo.”

“What?  Again?”  Applejack frowned slightly, looking at the glowing rune on the owl’s pouch.

“Hoo.”

Sighing, Applejack reached out a hoof and said, “Ex dimittere” in a firm voice.

“Baaaaarrrffff!”

Resigned, Applejack looked at the plum mare then called over her shoulder, “Big Mac!  Potent Potpourri is here ta see ya again!”





In the Hufflepuff common room an unusual conversation was taking place.

“Is it safe to let him sit on your head like that?” a fifth-year boy asked.

“He’s already eaten today,” the third-year girl in question answered.  “Besides, head wounds just bleed a lot without much damage.”

“You’re not afraid he might decide on a late-night snack?”

“It’s no skin off my back if he does.”  The girl shrugged.

“No, it’s off your head,” the boy countered.

“Oh good,” a seventh-year girl said entering the common room, “you’ve got Mouse; saves me the hassle of hunting him down.”

“Got a pimple?” the fifth-year girl asked.

“No,” the seventh year shook her head, “I just wanted to see how well he works on yeast infections.”

There was a noticeable pause.

“What!?” the first two speakers chorused.

“I said I wanted to see how well he works on yeast infections.” The eldest girl repeated.

“We heard you the first time.” The third-year girl growled.

“Then why’d you ask?”

“That there is some mental imagery I could have done without.” The fifth-year boy stated turning slightly green.

“Oh, grow up.”

“We have potions for that, you know.” The younger girl exclaimed.

“Technically, Mouse is a potion.”





Flames filled the Granger’s backyard.  Where there had been no one, there was now a gaggle of children.

Confidently, one of them led the rest to the backdoor.  “Mum!  We’re here!” she called instead of knocking.

“Hermione, we were just starting to get worried that you weren’t going to make it,” Emma said as her kitchen started to fill with guests.

“We had a small difficulty that needed an immediate resolution,” Hermione said.

“It was kind of humorous,” Lavender added.

“I see you brought your phoenix,” Dan said eyeing the avian on Sweetie Belle’s shoulder.  “I just have one question.”

“We kind of expected you would,” Neville said.

“Good,” Dan said getting to the heart of the matter, “Then would you kindly explain why you have a grown woman with you dressed as Lady Godiva?”

Seamus snorted and said, “Obviously, because, a five-hundred-pound unicorn would have caused too much of a spectacle.”

 
> Chapter 31: Probing, Preparing, and Pizza
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tension hung heavy in the air with hints of both disappointment and anticipation.  This was not the way anyone wanted to start the weekend.  Normally, there would not be a full staff meeting just after supper.  Normally, there would not be a full staff meeting just one week into a new term. The impromptu meeting served to underscore that the past week had been anything but normal.

The faculty lounge was normally the most comfortable place on campus.  Located not far from the Great Hall, it was appointed with plush rugs and overstuffed chairs.  Normally, the room was arranged to allow small groups to talk among themselves, but a quick bit of transfiguration had reconfigured the room into a small auditorium, with the chairs arranged in tiered semicircles, facing a podium.  The full complement of professors and staff fidgeted as they waited for their headmaster to open the meeting he had unexpectedly called.

The hubbub of the assembly abruptly stopped as the door opened.  To their surprise, it admitted not the headmaster, but one of the prefects.   “Professor McGonagall,” she said, heading toward her head of house, “I’m glad I caught you before the meeting started.  There’s been a minor incident back at the tower.

“No doubt involving Mr. Potter and his followers,” Professor Snape sniped, sneering.

“Well, yes, it was the first-years,” Fay admitted.

“What happened, Miss Dunbar?” Professor McGonagall prompted, unworried; her prefect was much too relaxed for it to be anything particularly disquieting.

“The first-years have turned their unicorn into a human,” Fay announced.

“A human you say?” asked Professor Sprout with a small smirk.

“Yes, and she was causing quite a ruckus trying to get out of the dress she was in.”  Fay nodded.  “She didn’t take too kindly to being clothed.

“A dress?” Professor Flitwick inquired.

“A pink monstrosity,” Fay explained.  “Right ghastly thing.  Can’t say that I blame her much for wanting to be rid of it.  But, she refused to wear anything I transfigured for her, absolutely insisted on being naked.”

Despondently, Professor McGonagall said, “I don’t suppose they’ve had her a week yet.”

“You know perfectly well it’ll be a few days yet before she’s been here a week.” Professor Snape said somewhat smugly.

Sighing, Professor McGonagall pulled two galleons from a pocket and tossed them onto Severus’ lap.  Following her lead, Professors Flitwick and Sprout did the same.

“They couldn’t just wait until Monday, now could they?” Professor McGonagall lamented.

Amazed, Mr. Goodman watched Snape pocket his winnings. The tutor asked, “You were expecting this?”

“There is precedent,” Professor Flitwick acknowledged.  “Though, I thought they’d go a month before thinking of it.”

“But a group of eleven-year-olds just taught a unicorn how to . . .” Mr. Goodman started; then with a huff, he continued, “Silly me.  For a second there, I forgot who I was talking about.  This is the group whose response to boring history lessons was to raise the dead.  What’s teaching a unicorn to transfigure compared to that?”

“So,” Professor Trelawney, the Divinations professor, asked, “are we starting a pool on when they will accomplish their next impossibility?”





The pack was loping through the shadows cast on the forest floor when one of its members spotted an opportunity.  A small meal was scurrying down the game trail.  Though it was scanning its surroundings for dangers, it was ignorant of the presence of the predators. There was no warning given, just a pounce, a grab and a quick shake of its head to snap its prey's neck.

The predator expected the squeal, most meals made a vocal protest over their end.  What the predator hadn’t counted on was for its prey to suddenly grow in its waiting jaws.  There was the cracking of branches and twigs as the hunter received a practical demonstration of the transfer of momentum.  The surprise and suddenness didn’t even allow the canine the luxury of calling out before being crushed.  Teeth still met the intended victim, even as the predator itself was vanquished.  Blood splattered on twigs, leaves and branches, but the terrified prey scampered away from the encounter.





In the Solar Throne Room, the Captain of the Guard had ordered the civilians hauled to safety, even as he stayed behind to contain the worst of the potential destruction.  For breathless minutes he watched as Celestia stood on the other side of his expertly-crafted shield and read the contents of the folder.  Nopony would be foolish enough to say the Princess wasn’t upset, but the temperature remained relatively constant, the floor remained unmelted, and the throne room avoided further damage.

After the last page was returned to the folder, Celestia looked up and saw that she was alone in her throne room, aside from the captain of her guard.  “Shining Armor,” she said, “it’s nearly time for me to lower the sun.  Afterwards, my sister and I shall be paying a visit to Canterlot General.  Cadence will most likely want to come, too.  Please see to it that all those from the last group who still want an audience are allowed back into the throne room to await my return.  Also, refreshments would not be amiss.  Better yet, provide a full meal for anypony interested.”

“Yes, your highness,” the captain said, eyeing the folder Celestia was still floating with her magic.

Perceiving his gaze, Celestia said, “It is nothing I was not already aware of.  This only steels my resolve.”

Shining Armor saluted before rapidly exiting the chamber to do as he was ordered.

Celestia sighed and said, “You can come out now; he’s gone.”

Twilight peeked her head out from behind Celestia’s cushions and said, “He didn’t really think I’d let the guards stop me from being here, did he?”

Celestia smiled warmly before floating the folder over to Twilight.  “It is remarkable how this report was almost a verbatim copy of the previous one.  I guess medical ponies are the same everywhere, even when they are not ponies.”

“I feel as if I should apologize for bring the whole mess to your attention,” Twilight said, coming close to Celestia.  “You have enough to worry about as it is.”

“Twilight,” Celestia said with a firmness that Twilight rarely heard in her voice, “had you neglected to bring this to my attention, that would require the apology.  You did the right thing.”





In a typical home in a typical London suburb, he sat on the family room couch, holding his wife close.  It had been too long since he had last held her in such a manner.  The constant anger would not have allowed it.  Though he slept in the same bed as her every night, he had not known her warmth in years.  Likewise affected, she now clung to him, as if afraid of drowning.  An unsated hunger for the comfort that his nearness offered kept her at his side.

Together, they intently watched their son, home from boarding school for the weekend, due to a "family emergency".  The boy was wallowing in front of the telly, seemingly unaffected.  Thankfully, the pig tail had been amputated.  Overall, their son had been the least affected.  After all, he had been raised to the role, and his parents were at a loss on how to handle the situation.  Whenever they thought about it, their loathing for magic swelled.

It hadn’t been their fault; it had been the magic’s.  Having none of their own, they had no defense against it.  Its influence had been more damning than alcohol's; they had done things they never would have even dreamed of doing, even on their worst day -- things that left them wondering just how dark their true selves actually were.  Now, bereft of its influence, they were left to pick up the pieces.

He bit his lip and moved his meaty arm to hug his wife closer.  Before, he had taken such pleasure in gluttony.  Upon reflection, he realized that impulse served only to rub salt in the wounds of a child.  Now, for all the pleasure it gave him, everything he ate may as well have been ash.  He was appalled at the person he had been just the week before.

Gathering his courage, he said the words that had to be said, but he felt he had no right to say them.  “We need to apologize to him.”

His wife shook her head and new tears welled in her eyes.  “We must."  She shook her head as she paused.  "I don’t think I can do it.  I still hate him so very much.  Even though he’s done nothing, I hate him.  Still, we must.”

He nodded in acknowledgement.  The hate still gnawed at him as well.

She hugged him closer, and they went back to watching their son.

Harry had not been the only victim.





“Let me see if I got this straight,” Emma said, eyeing the naked individual studying her potted plants.  “That’s not a woman; she’s your pet unicorn?”

“Unicorns aren’t pets,” Sweetie Belle insisted.  “She just sort of follows me everywhere.”

“But, she’s a unicorn that you’ve turned into a human with a necklace you just happened to have lying around.”  Dan raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes,” asserted the collection of children.

“And she refuses to wear anything you put on her?” Dan continued.

“Yes,” the children agreed.

“And she’s eating my aloe plant,” Emma noted.

“Magah!” Apple Bloom yelled.   “Stop!  'Tain't polite ta go 'round eating somepony’s house plants!”

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Magah moaned as she tried to deal with the spikes from her latest meal.  If she were placed in a line up, and random people were brought in and asked which was the unicorn turned human, they would all point to her unfailingly.  Normal humans did not have forms as lithe as hers.  Normal humans did not have hair in that shade of blonde.  Normal humans did not sport knee-length hair.  She was, very much, a walking cliché.

“I think we should help her,” Parvati said, rushing forward.  “I see something stuck in her tongue.”

Dan took action.  Reaching Magah first, he firmly held her still and extracted the offensive material.  He avoided being bitten in a manner only a dentist could explain.

“Aaaaaaaa,” Magah complained in his grip.

“I think it would be best if we took her downstairs,” Hermione said.  “Daddy’s got part of the cellar set up with a projection telly.  There are no windows there, so we can take off the necklace and show you what Magah looks like naturally.”

“I’m going to refrain from making the obvious joke.”  Emma smirked.

“Mother!” Hermione gasped.





The opulent furnishing of what was once Malfoy Manor did nothing to calm her nerves as Alice nervously fidgeted in a wingback chair in the sitting room.  Discord had yet to reply to her letter; she had no idea if he would accept her invitation for supper.  Hopefully, he would accept the offer and put in an appearance.

She had raided Narcissa’s closet, thankful that the two were about the same size.  Her prize was a pale blue piece of art that showed off her assets wonderfully.  With any luck, Discord would have trouble looking her in the eyes.  Not that his eyes weren’t nice, but tonight, they belonged elsewhere.

Anxiously, Alice wrung a laced kerchief in her lap.  Narcissa had been kind enough to provide it when she had seen how restless the younger woman was.  Alice was still bewildered at how helpful Malfoy’s ex-wife had been over the course of the last week.  She had anticipated hostility on that front.  The glaring absence was perplexing.

“You look lovely tonight,” said a familiar voice just off to her right.  Relief mixed with excitement flooded her system.

“Discord!” Alice exclaimed, quickly rising to her feet.  “I’m so happy you could make it!”

“You didn’t think I would abandon you?”  Confidence had returned to his voice.  This was good.

Alice schooled her impulses and glided over to stand before him.  He was wearing the same suit as before.  She was going to have to work on that.  Reaching out, she straightened the collar of his jacket for him.  “You're just in time for supper; won’t you escort me to the dining room?”

 Discord forced his eyes on Alice’s and with a gulp, said, “I would be delighted to, but first, I was instructed, in no uncertain terms, by my friend Euridice, that the very first thing I was to do tonight was inform you of my friend Fluttershy.”

With her hand still on Discord’s collar, Alice froze.





Once again, he was alone in a room filled with beanbags.  Despite the riot of colors in the room, his blue coat still managed to clash with everything.  Mending Psyche had left soon after they had discussed his supper, leaving Harry to wonder about her reaction on learning what steak was.  It was just his luck; he got a Hindu pony.  His primary school teacher had told a funny story about how she had met a Hindu woman once and made the mistake of ordering beef in front of her.  The lesson was supposed to be about respecting other cultures.  Having done something similar, Harry could relate with his former teacher.  It wasn’t so funny now. How was he supposed to know that Mending had considered cows sacred?

Harry had almost fallen asleep by the time the door reopened.  Mending followed a beige unicorn into the room; both selected beanbags to lie on.

“Hello, Harry Potter,” the unicorn said.  “My name is Rapid Recovery.  I am here at the request of Mending Psyche.  I need to ask you some important questions.”

Bleary-eyed, Harry nodded.

“When was the last time you can remember eating steak?”

“Um,” Harry said, still not wholly focused, “there was a platter of some for supper yesterday.  I had a small piece, but mainly just had roast chicken.”

“Chicken, too?” Mending muttered as Rapid asked, “Only a small piece?”

“Yeah, Sweetie murdered the platter.  It’s hard to properly enjoy a dish when she’s being aggressive.”

“Sweetie?”  Rapid's eyes narrowed.  “Is she also a pegasus?”

“No,” the colt said.  Suddenly he jumped up spreading his wings to their fullest.  With eyes wide open he exclaimed, “Sweetie Belle is a unicorn!”  Somehow, he managed to sound somewhat surprised.

Rapid left Mending to deal with the disproportionate response.  Rushing from the room, he focused on finding the pertinent ponies he needed to notify that they had a killer unicorn, practically a cannibal, by the name of "Sweetie Belle", on the loose.  As the door closed behind him he heard, “Magah makes so much more sense now.”





“That’s not a clip-on!” Discord gasped.





Somewhere in cyberspace, after getting her daughter to help her work the newsreader, a former skeptic scoured for information on the world she had just discovered.  Armed with new-found knowledge, she felt like she should write something after reading through alt.magic.secrets.

I’ve been reading what you people have ben saying. You’ve got some thongs wrong, but ar very close on other things. Like that spot in london you keep mentioning. Its a pub called Leacky Cauldron. You just have to have magic to see it. You can also can see it if you hold onto someone with magic. Just hold there hand. If you see a witch or wizard abroaching, just ask and they will most likely help you into the pub and even diegon alley behind it. Most are friendl , with some bad apples.

Happily, she sent the message.  Pride at mastering the Usenet swelled in her.  Now, she just had to figure out what in NTTP happened to her post.





“Thank you all for being here tonight,” Dumbledore said as he slipped behind the podium.  “I apologize for my tardiness, but I had a bit of a situation pop up.”  He looked over his halfmoon glasses.  “I am sure most of you are not surprised that we are meeting so soon.  Events of the past week must be discussed.  So, without further ado, let us get to the business at hand.  As you all are undoubtedly aware, we have a unicorn from the forest who has decided to take up residence.  So far, this has proven to be a minor inconvenience; the elves have been more than happy to accommodate her.  However, I charge each of you to keep an eye on the situation.  It would be best to avoid any further surprises if at all possible.”

“Does having a unicorn turn into a human count as a surprise?” Mr. Goodman asked.

“My calculations show they won’t figure that one out for a couple more weeks yet,” Dumbledore replied.  He was rewarded by a multitude of head shakes from the faculty, as well as a few discreet snickers.  “Already?  It would seem we have a truly remarkable set of first-years,” he commented.

Dumbledore scanned the room, noting everyone’s reactions.  “In that vein, there will need to be an elevated level of caution when dealing with our newest Gryffindors.  As the recent incident with Miss Warren has made abundantly clear, they have access to previously unknown spells.  Furthermore, even though we have been guaranteed veto power by their previous source, we have been warned that they have an uncanny ability to overcome obstacles which that would deter any reasonable person.  We have also been cautioned to never use the phrase ‘it simply cannot be done’ or anything similar while in their range of their hearing.  In short, be careful of what ideas you give them.  Explicitly explain the dangers when you warn them.  Otherwise, you will be responsible for cleaning up the mess and explaining to the Unspeakables in excruciating detail the new and startling discovery.”

Murmurs coursed through the facility as they absorbed the news.





“She’s beautiful,” Emma breathed as her husband nodded in agreement.

Magah snorted and started to investigate the planters situated about the subterranean family room.

“Don’t you feed her?” Dan asked as he watched the unicorn express her distaste for plastic plants.

“She has plenty of hay back in the dorm room,” Lavender said.

“And she normally has a bag or two of oats at the supper table,” Seamus added helpfully.

“Supper that you skipped in favor of the mall?” Emma asked.

“Um, yeah,” Seamus said as several members of the herd groaned at the oversight.

“I’ll just pop over to the pa . . . er, corner shop and pick up something suitable, then,” Emma said, heading for the stairs.  “Dan, why don’t you put on a movie for the children?”

“Movie?” Lavender said fearfully, and Parvati glared at Dean.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to choose one that was made to scare you,” Dan said in a reassuring tone.  “Let's introduce you to a bit of swashbuckling adventure from a far-off galaxy.”

Unimpressed, Lavender clung to Hermione.  With exaggerated breathing, Hermione said, "I find your lack of faith . . . oh, you'll love it."





“Here, I’m done with him.”  The seventh-year dropped a blue blob into the hands of the third-year girl.  “Thanks.”

Speechless, the young girl stared at her burden for a second before shoving Mouse into the hands of the fifth-year boy.  “Here, you hold him.  I don’t want to right now!”

The boy also looked down.  He was not an expert on slime facial expressions, but he was positive Mouse was either traumatized or smug like no one’s business.  Despite the scent of menthol, there was definitely something fishy.  “How do you wash a slime?’ he asked, shivering.





Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie were traipsing down a street in Ponyville, together.  Pinkie Pie pronked, reaching Rainbow Dash's altitude at the apex of each bounce.  Abruptly, Pinkie halted in mid-hop, in complete defiance of gravity.

“Wait a minute!” she gasped.

“What?” Rainbow asked, doubling back with a quick wingover.

“Back when Twilight was rescuing ponies from George,” Pinkie started.

“Yeah?”

“The last two were Snips and Snails,” Pinkie continued.

“Yeah?”

“Why weren’t they in school?”

“Hey!” Rainbow said, narrowing her eyes.





“Thar, that should do it,” Applejack said, closing the primary flap on Lodestone’s pouch.  “Jus' one more delivery an' we can call it a day.”

“Hoo,” Lodestone agreed helpfully.

“Ah know I said it before, but we really appreciate your willingness to do deliveries like this.”  Applejack smiled.

“Hooo.”  Lodestone blushed.

“Off ya go then, while it’s still warm.”





A seventh-year Hufflepuff looked at her dormmate, aghast, “Did you just?” she asked.

“Nah.”  Her dormmate shook her head, trying to contain her laughter until after she reached the safety of their room.  “I’m just messing with them.”

“You're cruel,” the first girl said.  “So very, very cruel.”





Elisa Bates glared as her daughter entered their tiny apartment.  “Where have you been?” she demanded.

“Sorry Mum; I got distracted at the bank.”

“Bank?”  Elisa frowned.

“Yeah.”

“Since when do you have a bank account?”  The frown deepened.

“They set me up with a vault today.”

“A vault?”

“For my tribute.”  The girl nodded her head.

“Tribute?”

“The goblins insisted,” Abagail said.

“I’m sure they did,” Elisa said, “and the elves wanted to give you flowers as well, I suspect.”

“I don’t know if elves are real,” Abagail said sincerely.  “I never thought to ask.”

“So, you were at a goblin bank all this time?” Elisa asked with barely constrained anger.

“Yes Mum,” Abagail said, “except when I went to get my wand.”

“Your wand?”

“Yeah, they don’t have staves.”  Abagail brandished a fancily carved stick.

“And you paid for your wand with your tribute?”

“Yeah, and they gave me a few quid for dis-wash-ery spending, as well as the gold coins to buy my wand,” Abagail continued.

“They sound very generous,” Elisa said, eyes narrowing as she tired of the game.

“Yeah.  Here, I guess it's grocery money.”  Abagail reached into her jacket pocket, extracting a wad of paper to hand her mother.

Riffling through the stack, Elisa found the queen on one side and an architect on the other on each sheet.  Aghast, she realized she was holding more than she made in a year.





In Hogwarts a small tower contained a locked room, inaccessible to students.  Within the room, an ancient book lay on a pedestal.  Beside the book was a silver inkwell that fed a ratty-looking quill.  It was said no person had laid hands on the artifacts since the day they were secured in that cell.

Without prompting, the book creaked open, and the quill floated up to add a name to its yellowed pages.





Emma sat on the floor behind the couch and opened the fourth box of oat rings.  Magah had started to slow down, no longer greedily inhaling the meal.  She lay on the floor, muzzle buried in a large plastic bowl.  The minimally-sweetened breakfast food had been a hit.

The children were clustered on the other side of the couch, enthralled by the story unfolding on the screen.  Well, most of them were.  Hermione, Dean, and Seamus were more entertained by the reactions of their friends than by the movie itself.

The phoenix was perched on the couch back, watching Emma feed the unicorn.  She gave a questioning chirp.  In response, Emma offered a handful of cereal.  The bird sniffed at the tiny rings and then turned up her beak.

“Sweetie,” Emma called, “when was the last time you fed your phoenix?”

“She had half of a roast beef sandwich for lunch,” Sweetie Belle answered.

“So, you skipped her supper as well?” Emma asked.

“Maybe we should order a pizza,” Dean suggested.

“Hey?”  Sweetie thought out loud.  “Do they have pizza with meat on them?”

“Of course,” Dean said, not surprised.

Suddenly, an owl flew into the room.  It didn’t fly in through a window; there were none to begin with.  It didn’t fly through the wall; the walls weren't on its flight path.  It flew from somewhere that was not here, and not quite there.  In technical terms, it came in from an orthogonal dimension; in layman's terms, you couldn't get here from there.  The appearance made all of the individuals unlucky enough to have noticed cross their eyes as they focused on something they did not comprehend.

The large owl perched on the couch back, next the phoenix, and stared directly at Apple Bloom.  “Hooo.”

Apple Bloom blinked rapidly several times before accepting the letter the owl was carrying along with a pouch strapped to its breast.

“What is it?” Scootaloo asked from where she was curled up on Ron’s lap.

“It’s from mah sister.”  Apple Bloom said guiltily, “She says it would be mighty thoughtful if ah’d consider writing her a letter ever now and then.”

“D'oh!” Neville grunted.  “I should probably write Gran, too.”

“Rarity would probably like one as well,” Sweetie noted as she looked expectantly at Parvati.

“What?” Parvati asked.  “I wrote home just yesterday.”

“You’re not making us feel better about our forgetfulness,” Seamus noted.

“Was I supposed to?” Parvati asked.

“Ooo,” Apple Bloom said, opening the first flap on the owl’s pouch, “she sent pie.”  She pulled out a large apple pie and handed it to the nearest herd mate.  “An’ apple fritters.”  Another platter was produced.  “An’ apple strudel, an’ apple lasagna.”

“Wait?” Lavender said, tearing her gaze away from the television.  “What was that last one?”

“Apple lasagna,” Hermione answered.  “Ron, don’t even think of it.  Wait until I get some plates and napkins.”

“’Nother pie.”  Apple Bloom resumed.  “An’ apple crisps.  An’ apple soufflé.”

“I’m starting to sense a pattern,” Dan said from the bottom of the stairs.  He was holding a stack of flat cardboard boxes.

“You got pizza that quick?”  Dean was perplexed.

“I ordered them right after starting the film,” Dan said.  “They just got here.”

Philomena liberated the box on the top of the stack and helped herself to sausage and anchovy while tossing the pineapple and banana aside.

“Apple ravioli!” came a gleeful cry.





Mending had a decidedly green tinge on her face when she again left Harry alone with his thoughts and the riot of colors.  He had settled down quickly after his outburst.  Sweetie Belle was a unicorn.  Mentally, he kicked himself.  How could he not have seen it earlier?  It wasn't as though he hadn't witnessed her mother turn into a unicorn.  That should have been the clincher.

All of her idiosyncrasies finally made sense.  She wasn't a feral unicorn like Magah; she was very much a person, just like the hospital staff, but still, she was a unicorn, albeit transformed into a human.  The clues had been staring him in the face all along:  Anypony?  Everypony?  The revulsion she displayed whenever anyone suggested Magah was a pet?  The wildly colored hair?  After seeing all of the gaily-colored manes and tails, how had he not thought of the hair after he arrived in Equestria?

Sweetie Belle was a unicorn.  In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter to him.  She was still Sweetie, the friend he'd come to know over the past week.  He ruffled his wings irritably.  What was actually bothering him was that this was all a bit much to take in.  After all, one doesn't expect to look at a girl and say to oneself, "You know, I think she's a unicorn."

He’d bet his entire vault that Scootaloo was a pegasus.

Once again, the door opened.  This time, instead of Mending, a trio of unicorns entered, towering over him.  They were easily the largest he had seen yet.  As he looked in awe, he noticed that they had wings as well as horns.

“Hello Harry Potter,” the largest, the white one said.  “My name is Celestia.  I am a princess of this realm, as are my sister, Luna, and my niece, Mi Amore Cadenza.  She prefers to go by Cadance.”

“Hello.” Harry said standing clumsily on his beanbag and face planting when he tried to bow.

Celestia gave him a warm smile.  “Welcome to Equestria.”
> Interlude 3: No Names
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The burial chamber within the tomb was damp and foreboding.  No light found its way through this mound that time forgot.  Tightly fitted stonework, reinforced by long forgotten magics, ensured that no living creature, no force of nature, would disturb this resting place.  For centuries, the chamber lay inert, sterile.  No part of nature could enter, not mice or voles, not spiders or insects, not moss or mold, not air or water, not even light.  Nothing, it seemed, would disturb the meager contents, a plain stone box -- a sarcophagus -- a coffin -- buried in the sands of time.

The chamber had been the ultimate expression of teamwork and sacrifice.  Many benders of spirit had given their last breaths to see it completed.  Many adepts of the flames had made pyres of their very bones to kindle the barest spark of success.  Many benders of the waves had given the last drops of their very blood to power this achievement.  There had been no coercion; that would have tainted the very soul of the effort.  All that was given had been given freely, given to protect their families, given to protect those families yet to come.

Centuries earlier, the labor had ended when a lone male lay, willing, in the stone box and watched as the lid was painstakingly lowered into place.  Naked he lay, shivering, with only his breath to keep him company until the magic stole even that away.  He had no bitterness toward those who had sealed him in.  He had volunteered.  This was his opportunity to protect others, so that none might know his pain.  The people of the tyrant had come in the night to snatch his daughter from her bedding.  He had been forced to watch his only child, not yet seven summers old, sacrificed upon the altar of the tyrant.

Years had passed, and the tyrant’s power had grown to make him nigh-invincible.  By some miracle, an opportunity had arisen, and the bloodthirsty overlord was laid low.  Three score warriors had given their lives to see the act done; their only regret was not having the opportunity sooner.

Yet, the fear that the tyrant would one day return consumed the minds of the elders.

A plan was made.

A tomb was built.

Magics were cast.

He was not a zombie, mindlessly consuming flesh.

He was not a vampire, bleeding others so that he may exist.

He was not a lich, drunk on power.

He was not alive.

He was not dead.

Finally, what was feared came to be.  After centuries of limbo, he felt the tyrant’s power surge.

From the families of the children sacrificed came the willpower that infused his arms with the strength needed to remove the massive stone lid.

The amassed unconditional love for their offspring gave him the power to rise from where he lay.

The resolve to never let it happen again lent urgency as he swung his legs over the edge.

Within a long-forgotten tomb, something stirred where nothing ever moved.

From within, the tomb was blown asunder.

Vengeance walked.





In a dusty storage room, somewhere in a respectable museum, sat a box.  It contained a curious artifact, the purpose of which had never been divined.  The fact that it was made of gold and gems had categorized it as art, albeit art that was atypical for the region and timeframe of its creation.  Too valuable to dispose of and too abnormal to display, it sat in storage, seeing the light of day only when curious academics unearthed it to marvel at its uniqueness.

If one of those gawkers had been attuned to magic, they would have noticed that it resonated in the ambient field.  Instead, they laughed at the absurdity of the object.

In a dusty storage room, somewhere in a respectable museum, an artifact's precious stones started flashing in sequence.

Notification went unnoticed.





The arid air in the tavern greedily guzzled the sweat from the unwashed masses.  With the coming of dusk, the nearly unbearable heat of day began to flee into the night sky.  Patrons filled the establishment, enjoying the company of friends, while avoiding a corner table where a lone man sat.  The large individual almost looked comical, slumped in the chair he had claimed.  There was nothing jovial about the aura of menace he radiated.  The empty mugs on the table before him gave mute testimony to his desire to be left alone.

The hefty British wizard was discontent with his current lot in life.  All of his current possessions resided in a shrunken chest in his shirt pocket.  His elf had been denied access to his vault.  Then, to add insult to injury, his elf had been blocked in its task to retrieve the contents of his home.

Mere survival was not an issue; his cunning alone could keep him alive indefinitely.  Sadly, he couldn’t just take what he needed from the local muggle population.  The wizards of this country took offense at the very concept.  He couldn’t take the risk of being banished beyond its borders, or worse, returned to his homeland.  It limited his options.  He would have to hunt the regional wildlife to make ends meet.

It was degrading; no pureblood should be reduced to such a lifestyle.

With an unsteady hand, he reached for the mug still containing the awful brown swill.  It had, mercifully, lost its flavor several rounds ago.

His homeland had been ripped from him abruptly.  His comfortable life had become a thing of the past, in the blink of an eye.  It was beyond nauseating.  Misbegotten fools now controlled the justice system, and they wanted to hold him accountable for indulging in his privileges.

The very thought made him sick to his stomach, the bile souring its already volatile contents.

With any luck, a few more mugs would be all he needed to forget the world for a while.

Barely able to comprehend the significance, he became aware of another man taking a seat at his table, across from him.  He snarled at the trespasser.

The invader merely guffawed at the paltry gesture, folding his hands in his lap.  “I thought I might find you here,” he said.

“There’s no extradition treaty.”  The drunk stated the obvious, taking another swig of his swill.

The effete newcomer nodded his head in agreement; the purple turban he wore made the gesture look lopsided.  “Our master has a task for you.”

In an unnamed tavern, somewhere in Egypt, the British wizard glared at the fool daring to speak for the master.

Hatred plotted.





In a local police station, ponies grimly started an investigation.

They had to contact every station in the land.

They had to converse with the law enforcement of other countries.

They had to have a tally of all missing bovines in the last five years.

They had to open every cold case.

They had to determine who was missing.

They had to stop it.

This was no bull; they had to protect the milk providers.

How could this have gone unnoticed?

How could such an abomination trot freely among them?

In a local police station, they prepared for the worst.

Panic prevailed.





With glee, he reread the post.  Whoever wrote it needed to learn the concept of proofreading.  However, the message was clear.  Someone had added a new piece to the puzzle.

If there were any truth to the message, there was a new avenue of research to be explored.

It seemed too convenient.

It could be a trap.

He didn’t bother writing a letter to himself.

They checked for those things.

Instead, he set his computer to present certain files the next time it was booted.

They had no clue about computers.

This wouldn’t be the first time he had an encounter with the bastards who had no respect for other people’s memories.

Of course, he didn’t remember those encounters, but he knew they numbered five.

He sent emails to his friends and contacts, letting them know what he planned.

Then, he readied his camera for tomorrow.

In a middle-class bedroom, somewhere not far from London . . .

Curiosity prepared.





A group sat around a large table and made plans.

They had never dreamed they would have the opportunity that had presented itself.

In a single day, they had become the largest single faction in the Wizengamot.

There was so much injustice to redress.

There were so many wrongs to right.

The task seemed almost daunting.

They knew the opposition would do everything possible to maintain its stranglehold on the reins of power.

They knew the opposition considered the law something that happened to other people.

However, they had a toehold.  That’s all they needed.

The most pessimistic among them predicted that blood would flow.

The most optimistic among them worried over increasing security.

They had not trusted the former government to keep them safe.

Now they were the government; they would keep people safe.

They knew the opposition’s next move was practically written in stone.

They had seen the pattern and had been powerless to stop it.

Now power had been dropped in their laps.

Around a large table, they sat and plotted.

Change lurked.





He had done what he could for his wounds, transforming back to his natural form long enough to use his master’s wand.  Regrettably, healing was not something he had put much effort into learning.  At least he had stopped the bleeding.

It was only a matter of time before he ended up as a meal for some monstrosity.

Strangely, he didn’t find the concept as disturbing as he thought he should.

It must be the blood loss.

He was aware of the forest ending.

He struggled to make his way into the light.

The moon was bright.

At least he wouldn’t die in those hideous woods.

Weakly, he dragged himself out from under the canopy.

His paws were trembling.

His heartbeat slowed.

Looking up, he saw a white rabbit.

What a beautiful rabbit.

Was it an angel?

He didn’t deserve an angel.

Darkness claimed him, despite the radiance of the harvest moon.

Somewhere, at the edge of an unknown forest, a rabbit sped away.

Deceit despaired.





Bedecked in her customary pink, she sipped the tea provided for her, waving a pudgy pinkie.

“We can’t let this happen,” she said to her host.

He grimaced, looking at the tea in his own cup.  “They control the Wizengamot,” he lamented.

“We can’t let them take control,” the woman insisted.

“They already have it,” he countered.

“Are we to just sulk away like a whipped puppy?” she scoffed.  “Are we to abandon generations of tradition?”

“What are we to do then?” he snarled.  “They have the law on their side.”

“There are other ways,” she assured him.

“Such talk borders on treason,” he cautioned.

“We are talking about the wellbeing of the magical community,” she responded.  “We cannot let the law stand in the way.”

“It is ironic to hear you say that, considering how many times you used the law to further your own ends.”

“We must stand resolute in our commitments,” she said.

“What exactly do you have planned?” he asked.

In the sitting room of a pureblood’s manor, she smiled.

Bigotry regrouped.





Two once separated by misery, misfortune, and malfeasance now came together.

There had been crying.

There had been hugging.

There had been apologizes.

There had been no accusations.

There had been forgiveness.

There had been vows of support.

There had been no need for words.

There had been a realignment of priorities.

In a hospital room, bonds were reforged, renewed, and reinforced.

Friendship was magic.

 
> Chapter 32: Technical Errors
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


***** WARNING ***** WARNING ***** WARNING *****



The following chapter contains material that may be considered objectionable to some readers.  While this chapter fully conforms to both the spirit and the letter of the ratings associated with it, those who are susceptible are cautioned to stay alert for the word "WARNING" in all capitals.  If you are in this category, skip to the word "NOMINAL" and ignore everything in between.  The author bears no responsibility for anyone offended by the material that is thus designated.



We now return to the story in progress.


                                                                         
 ***** NOMINAL ***** NOMINAL ***** NOMINAL *****






In the reconfigured faculty lounge, the impromptu staff meeting now hosted an impromptu speaker.  The atmosphere was somber as the guest speaker left the podium.  Dumbledore had been perplexed when his deputy headmistress had introduced the mind healer from St. Mungo’s.  Why had she invited the man to the meeting?  It was almost as if she didn’t trust the staff to do their jobs.  Tragedies had happened in the past and there hadn’t been a need for grief counseling back then.  Why should it be required now?

Nonetheless, Dumbledore led a round of applause as he reclaimed the podium.   “Thank you, Healer Marshals, for that informative lecture.”  He said, “I can assure you that the staff and myself shall be on the lookout for the signs of depression that you have outlined.”

The healer smiled as he retook his seat, sitting among the rest as if he were part of the faculty.  Which, admittedly, he was, for the time being.  Minerva had taken it upon herself to persuade the hospital to assign him to the school for as long as his services might be needed.  Dumbledore could only sit back and nod his approval; to do otherwise would jeopardize his shaky relationship with his deputy headmistress. Besides, the counselor's presence would do no harm.

He gave the staff some time to quiet down before proceeding.   “As you are all aware, Quirinus appears to have abandoned his position.  His personal effects have been removed, and he has not been seen for the majority of the week.  We assume he took offense over the acquisition of a private tutor by some of our students.”

Dumbledore raised his head to look at the assembled professors.  “While the tutor in question has been kind enough to hold Quirinus’ classes for the rest of the week and has agreed to cover for the coming week as well, his contract does not allow this to be a permanent solution.  I’m afraid I must recruit a new DADA professor even though we are less than a full week into the semester.”

The announcement was met with muttering from those gathered.

“What are the limits on Mr. Goodman teaching the class?” Professor Vector, the arithmancy instructor, asked through the babbling.

“No more than a month,” replied Dumbledore.  “Hopefully, that will be enough.”

No one said anything else on the matter; there was nothing left to say.





Discord continued to stare into the pair of stunningly beautiful eyes, wishing away the unshed tears he had caused as his host continued to cut off circulation.

Without warning, Alice let go of his tie and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I should have known,” she whispered.  “You’re just too perfect for no one else to have noticed before.”

“I had no intention of hurting you,” Discord said, starting his speech.

“No matter,” Alice said, “wife or mistress, you shall be mine.”

“After all we just met last . . .”  Discord started, “. . . what?”

“I can share. I hope Fluttershy doesn’t mind.” Alice said pulling Discord down to place her lips on his.





In the windowless basement, the others watched the spectacle with a mixture of horror and astonishment.  Before, no one would have believed that a ravenous wolf could have perfect table manners, but there was no disputing the evidence of one's eyes.  Each dainty bite was followed by a thorough mastication and swallow.  Lips were delicately patted clean before the cycle repeated, almost too fast for the eye to follow.

Sweetie Belle groaned as she leaned back.  A half-eaten pizza that had been the size of a manhole cover sat on the coffee table before her.  Pepperoni, ham, bacon, sausage, hamburger, salami, roast chicken, barbecue burnt ends, corned beef, and even more pepperoni had topped Michelangelo's Mega Meat Monstrosity.  Upon seeing this piece of culinary perfection, Sweetie had lost all interest in the movie and proceeded to move as much as possible from the box into her stomach.

“Is it safe now for the rest of us to try a slice?” Dean asked, eyeing the remnants.

“Sure,” Sweetie grinned with her eyes half shut, “why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” Parvati said.  “The way you growled at Seamus earlier, uh, kind of scared everyone away.”

“I did not growl at Seamus,” Sweetie protested.

“It must have been the other purple and pink haired girl in the room then.”  Dean smirked.

“I do not growl,” Sweetie insisted.

“Could have fooled me,” Seamus returned, “It would have been safer taking a bone from a strange dog.”

Sweetie snorted, “Are you saying that I’m an aggressive eater?”

“Yes!” the occupants of the room said as one, even though they would later deny that Magah and Philomena had chimed in.  They would, however, swear that the owl was not what it seemed.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.  I won’t let it happen again.”





Mending stood in the hospital hallway and watched the door to the evaluation room.  She had been told that all three princesses had shown up and were now interviewing the colt.  All three.  In her evaluation room.  At the same time.  They had been in there for some time now.

The surprises just keep piling up.

Today seemed the perfect kind of day where a pony might decide to embrace new experiences -- like, perhaps, a protracted bacchanal.

She scarcely registered the sound of hoofbeats approaching as she kept her vigil.

“Mending Psyche?” asked a voice.  Mending turned to behold three mares looking at her expectantly.

“Yes?” she said.  “How may I help you?”

“Hello, my name is Rarity, and these are my friends, Twilight Sparkle and Fluttershy.”  The white unicorn in the group said, “We were informed that you were doing a mental screening for Harry Potter.”

Mending scrutinized the mares before her before answering.  “Yes,” she finally replied.  “It was a disturbing interview to say the least.  At the risk of sounding unprofessional, I would very much like to be present when the princesses meet the Dursleys.”

“That statement leads me to believe that you are missing some essential information,” Rarity said with a sigh.  “We’ve learned that the Dursleys were compelled, with magic, to act in that contemptible manner.”

“What?”  Mending’s eyebrows shot into her mane.  “Somepony did this on purpose?”

“Some human,” Rarity corrected with a stamp of her forehoof.  “I refuse to even think of sharing the same species as that monster.”

“To be fair,” Fluttershy said softly, “most humans seem to be nice.”

“Humans are real?” Mending asked suspiciously.  “Do you seriously expect me to believe that?”

“And with that statement, I can deduce nopony told you that Harry Potter is a transfigured human,” Twilight said.  “Come to think of it, we may have forgotten to mention that when we checked him in.”

Mending skeptically glared at the purple unicorn.  “Are you trying to rationalize his meat eating practices by feeding me a fiction?”  Surreptitiously, she signaled for the orderlies.

“What?”  Twilight snorted.  “No.  As strange as it may sound, Harry Potter is a human from another dimension, whom Discord has given a ring to allow for the shifting of form.  Furthermore, in his natural form, he is an omnivore.”

“I suppose that excuses the murder of innocent cows.”  Mending's voice dripped with venom.

“No. no.” Rarity interjected, “That subject has already come up in our letters.  It seems the humans have a non-sapient species of cows that they cultivate in a similar fashion as pigs.  They actually have a law stating they can’t eat anything that can beg for its life.”

Mending laid her ears flat against her skull and snarled, “Just what kind of fool do you take me for?”

Twilight and Rarity stared at Mending, astounded by her hostility.  Burly orderlies of all tribes approached from behind, waiting for Mending's signal.

“Miss Mending Psyche!”  Fluttershy said meekly, “It’s true.  Discord even gave us the ability to change back and forth as well; see?”  With those words, Fluttershy’s form blurred and was replaced by a tall delicate, formerly, fictional figure.

As Mending gawked at the new revelation, Twilight said, “Fluttershy, that might not be such a good idea.”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” came the girlish cries from the orderlies, chilling everypony’s blood in their veins.  Their hoofbeats sounded like machinegun fire as they fled from the former impossibility.

“Never mind,” Twilight said, defeated, as Fluttershy swiftly resumed her natural form.

Mending cringed as she heard the screams recede into the distance, only to jump as the door of evaluation room flew open.

“What’s going on here?” Celestia demanded, followed quickly by Luna, Cadence, and a small blue pegasus colt with a messy black mane.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Rarity said.  “It’s just that Fluttershy here felt the need to terrorize a random pony or three.”

“I’m sorry.”  Fluttershy cringed and hid her face behind her mane.

Celestia looked at Fluttershy, glanced at Rarity, turned her gaze down the hall toward the receding screaming, and then stared off into space.   “In the admittedly short time between hearing a blood curdling scream and finding myself in this hallway, I must concede that the explanation given never graced my list of expectations.”

“Indeed.” Luna nodded her head knowingly.  “If it had, it would have ranked somewhere below expecting a cute puppy to suddenly brandish a hatchet and attack everything within its reach.”

Celestia cleared her throat and looked at Luna.  “Ah, actually sister, that happened about three hundred years ago.”

“Really?” Luna asked, echoed by Harry, Cadence and Twilight.

“Yes.” Celestia nodded her head.  “It was both gruesome and completely adorable at the same time.”

“Um.”  Luna tried again.  “In that case, your statement would have ranked below expecting a little white rabbit with a spatula harassing innocent ponies.”

Twilight shared a look with Rarity and then shared a glance with Celestia before looking at Fluttershy’s still-cowering form.   “All right,” Twilight sighed, “it needs to be said and it might as well be me.”  Turning to Luna she pointed a hoof.  "It’s apparent that you have never been introduced to Angel Bunny.”





At the edge of a forest, a bear hurried along.  The rat held loosely in its jaws spoke of a successful hunt.

The white rabbit riding on its back defied rational explanation.





“Ah suppose it’s ‘bout time to be heading back,” Apple Bloom said as the credits rolled on the screen.

“Hermione said there is a second and a third part to this movie,” Lavender protested.

“That will just have to wait until next time,” Emma said from where she sat petting Magah.  “It is getting late.”

“Awww,” Lavender complained as the rest of the herd stood and started stretching after sitting for so long.

“Two movies in one night is a good stopping point,” Hermione said.  “We got no studying done today.”

“Life’s not just studying, Hermione,” Scootaloo said.  “You’ve got to have fun, too.”

“But studying is fun,” Hermione countered.

“Not for everyone,” Dean rebutted.

“Thank you for inviting us over,” Sweetie Belle said diplomatically, “and thank you for the pizza.”

The rest of the herd also expressed their thanks, following Sweetie’s lead.

Emma surveyed the clutter of crust-filled pizza boxes and half-filled dishes of apple products.  She was willing to bet that Ron and Apple were separated at birth; the hair color and the appetites were just too similar to be a coincidence. “You are very welcome.  We just love having Hermione bring her friends over.  Meeting Magah was exhilarating as well.”

“What are we going to do with the leftovers?” Seamus asked.

“Let me get some foil to wrap up the pie and lasagna.  You can take them with you,” Emma said, standing and heading for the stairs.  “I’ll clean your sister’s dishes and send them back with her owl.”

“Hooo,” said the owl, still resting on the couch back.

“I think he’s waiting for those letters,” Neville commented.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have Philomena deliver them tomorrow,” Sweetie told the owl.

“Hooo.”





“It’s getting late," Twilight said.  “We should probably return Harry to his school.”

“Yes please,” said Harry.  His masculinity was being stretched to its limits.  He was surrounded by cute, candy-colored ponies whose appearance was a siren's call to transform, just so that he could properly pet and cuddle and . . . He closed his eyes as he struggled to contain himself; he was a bloke, darn it!  He was positive that looking into a mirror would leave him trapped like Narcissus.

“We need Discord to do that,” Fluttershy said, “and he doesn’t seem to want to come right now. I wonder what he’s up to.”






***** WARNING ***** WARNING ***** WARNING *****



*****!ERROR!*****



***STORY RATED TEEN!!!!***



***SCENE TRANSFER EXCEEDS PARAMETERS!!!!***



REDIRECTING . . . . . . . . .




“Hey!” Discord’s voice called from somewhere in the background, “Stop that! You’re giving them the wrong ideas!”






*****!ERROR!*****



***FOURTH WALL INTEGRITY BREACHED!!!!***



***INITIATING REPAIRS***



***MOVE ALONG . . .NOTHING TO SEE HERE***



***** NOMINAL ***** NOMINAL ***** NOMINAL *****








Theoretically, Emma could have waited for the next morning to finish cleaning.  In reality, if she had, she would have managed very little sleep.  Emma did not like leaving messes.

Despite the clutter the children had managed in such a short time, the matter was resolved quickly.  Her daughter had not entertained in a long time, and Emma was overjoyed that she was making friends at her new school.  Unfortunately, Hermione’s earlier childhood had been a lonely time as her peers were intimidated by her intelligence and her dedication.  She was lucky to get any of them to talk to her, much less try making friends.

Humming to herself, Emma noticed that the children had left something important behind.  On the bookshelf rested a necklace.





“So?” Luna nudged Twilight as they walked back to the palace, “Angel Bunny?”

“The most inappropriately named white rabbit in Equestrian history,” Twilight said with a grimace.


***** WARNING ***** WARNING ***** WARNING *****



*****!ERROR!*****



***BLATANT PLAGIARISM DETECTED!***



***PROCEDING TO SMACK THE AUTHOR!***



***FOURTH WALL INTEGRITY AT 87%***



 


Pinkie Pie looked up, ”What do you mean by the eye dee ten tea protocol?  Look, nothing will happen.”




***FOURTH WALL INTEGRITY AT 72%***


“Ooops!”. Pinkie murmured.


***** NOMINAL ***** NOMINAL ***** NOMINAL *****






Dan was just entering the kitchen, after taking out the trash, when he heard his wife’s voice call up from the still open basement door, “Dan!”

“Yes dear?!” he called back, “Are you okay? You sound a little horse.”

“Would you please come down here and help me?” Emma called.  “I can’t get this off with my hooves!”




***** WARNING ***** WARNING ***** WARNING *****



*****!ERROR!*****



***NON-HUMOROUS REUSE OF MATERIAL***



***PROCEEDING TO GROAN  >>>>click!<<<< . . . . . ...




Everypony’s a critic . .




***** NOMINAL ***** NOMINAL ***** NOMINAL *****






Sweetie Belle slowly awoke.  She was content, if not very coherent.  A smothering source of warmth blanketed her, a totally unexpected sensation that immediately brought her to full wakefulness.

Shoving the source, she grunted, “Magah!  Get off; you’re way too heavy!”





“Harry, it’s time to wake up.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the invasive morning light infusing his room in the pony palace.  Smiling, he recognized the voice.  He was still in his pony form, curled under a mound of blankets atop a mattress as soft as a cloud.  A wide yawn gave way to a contented smile; here was one he owed much to.

He turned toward the voice.   “Good Morneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”  It seemed that pegasus colts could hit some rather high notes.

“Is there something the matter?”  Discord peered at the shivering colt.

“Waa waa waaa.”

“Oh.”  Discord leaned back and snapped his claws.  “That’s right; this is your first time seeing me in my true majestic form.”

“UUU uuu oh.”  Harry agreed, trembling like a leaf.

“Well, then.”  Discord faded from view, but his lips lingered with his voice.  “I’ll just leave you to recover.  We can try this again in a few, when you're more awake.”

Harry stared at the spot the dragon thing had occupied.  Awake less than two minutes and he had already learned two very interesting facts.

First, it appeared Discord wasn’t a pony.  Second, pegasi could evidently stick to the ceiling, using their hooves.

. . .

. . .

How had he managed to get up here, anyway?





Morning had broken in the quiet London suburb.  The night had been blissfully sleepless as the couple shared a new toy, one that had given them a spark they had not experienced since their honeymoon.

“Okay,” Dan said, “I’ve been like this long enough.  I just want to enjoy my morning coffee.”

“But you're so cute!”  Emma ran her hands through her husband’s dark yellow fur and cuddled closer.  “Let’s just have a bit of a lay in; I’ll get you your coffee latter.”

“Fine,” he relented, “but it’s your turn to wear it.”





To Parvati's dismay, Magah had proven remarkably adept at sniffing out magic as the now-transfigured unicorn made her escape from the trunk.  It took every last bit of speed to bar the dorm's door before Magah could give a refresher course in the history of Coventry.

Parvati glared balefully at Magah, only to receive an innocent smile in return.  “Listen, either the robe goes on or the necklace comes off.  We’re going to breakfast soon, and you simply can’t go in the buff.”

“Goo,” Magah returned helpfully.





After knocking and receiving permission, the earth pony maid entered the room and spotted the child she was supposed to gather for breakfast.

“I see that you are up already,” she said approvingly; she had suspected that she would have had to wake him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding, “a little too up for my tastes.”

“Well, you could just come down here.”

He looked at the height he had to traverse, “How?”

“You do have wings,” she reminded him.  “I understand that’s common for pegasi.”

“Oh yeah.”  He stretched the aforementioned limbs.  “I forgot about them.”

“How do you manage to forget about wings?” the maid asked.

Harry marveled at pegasus aerodynamics.

*Thump*

“Also,” she said, moving forward to assist, “it helps if you don't point straight down.”

“Noted,” the colt said from where he was sprawled out on the floor.





“Ah.”  Discord was happy to see all the princesses and the three Element Bearers were in the dining room.  “You’re all here.  It occurred to me that I should inform you before taking Harry back to school.”

“Could you not wait until after breakfast?” Cadence asked.  “We didn’t have much time with him before he fell asleep.  He had a long day yesterday.”

“I’m afraid it would be best if I got him back before certain parties realize he’s gone.”  Discord shrugged.  “Alice has pretty much closed any loopholes, but I want to be able to pull him out from under a certain bearded nose if the worst comes to pass.”

“That seems terribly premeditated of you,” Luna noted.  “Suspiciously structured for one such as you.”

“My dear Luna.”  Discord wrapped his body around Luna’s barrel and hugged her head close to his.  “I am the spirit of chaos.”

“We are aware.”  Luna tolerated the close contact.

“As such, the moment you try to define me, you’ve misdefined me,” Discord said cheerfully, “especially when you use my previous actions as a basis for that definition.”

“How perfectly convenient, for you,” Luna noted.

“It is kind of in the job description.”  Discord grinned madly.

“Wait a minute!”  Twilight objected, “Isn’t a job description defining you by definition?”

“Yes, it is,” Discord agreed.

“So, isn’t a job description misdefining you?”  Twilight glared at Discord.

“Yes.”  Discord pulled away from Luna to wrap himself around Twilight instead.  “I see you understand.”

“But you just contradicted yourself,” she complained.

“Exactly,” Discord concurred.

“That’s just, just, just,” Twilight stammered.

“Chaotic?”  Discord asked.

“Well,” she admitted, “yes.”

“And she sees the light.”  Discord cheered.





The girls filed into the boys' dorm room, intent on waking the colts.  They stopped just inside the door and looked around.

"You know,” Scootaloo said, “it might have helped if they had keyed us to their trunks.”





“Oh yeah!”  Emma moaned ecstatically, “Right there!  Harder!  Faster!  Harder!  Faster!”

Dan interrupted his rhythm long enough to shake his hands and say, “Who knew you could get so much enjoyment out of having your ears scratched?”





“I’m back!” Discord announced as he popped into existence.

“Eeeek!”

Watching the maid, Harry noted that earth ponies seemed to lack the ability to stick to ceilings, despite their impressive jumping skills.  “Welcome back,” he said.  "I’m sorry for my earlier rudeness.  I just expected you to be another pony.”

“Tsk, tsk, my boy.”  Discord flipped his paw back and forth dismissively.  “You’ve had a lot thrown at you recently.  I’m surprised you’re handling it so well.”

“I’ve had a great week.  It’s like all my wishes have been answered,” Harry trumpeted, raising back on his hind legs and pumping his forelegs as he spread his wings for balance.  “I’m just afraid it’s all just a dream and I’m going to wake up and still be in my cupboard under the stairs.”

Discord’s smile disappeared.  “I will not let that happen.  Rarity will not let that happen.  The princesses will not let that happen.  Now, you have friends who will stand by your side.  You have adults that will protect you.  You are a strong one, but you are not just one.  You are one of a herd of many.”

“I’m, I’m . . .”  Harry pawed at the bedroom floor.  “I don’t have to go back to the Dursley’s?”

“No,” Discord said.  “You’re not going to be forced to go back.”

Harry stared at the floor.  “I don’t want to go back.”

“You won’t.”  Discord stopped himself from reaching out with a comforting claw that would not have been appreciated.

“I," Harry whispered, “I hate them.”

The maid, still in the room, gasped loudly.  The weight of the words struck her more painfully than a physical blow.  Even Discord winced.

“They always tell me I’m worthless,” Harry continued, lying down where he stood, “that I don’t deserve the food they waste on me.”

The maid rushed over to lie beside him and offer him support.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve sat in my cupboard and could hear them laughing in the family room.  They were happy together and I was not welcome.”

Discord lowered himself to get closer as the colt continued to look at the floor.

“I don’t want to go back.”

“You won’t have to.” Discord assured him.

“I like being called Harry.  I can remember when I thought my name was ‘boy’.”

The maid started shivering with suppressed rage.

“At Hogwarts, I’m welcome.  I’m part of the laughter.”

Discord remained quiet and let the colt continue to open up.

“At Hogwarts, I eat more in one day than I’m normally allowed in a whole week.”

The maid sucked in a breath and noticed just how small the colt beside her was.

“I don’t want to go back.”  Harry lifted his gaze and looked at Discord.  “What do I do now?”

“I won’t let things go back to the way they were,” Discord vowed.  “As for you, with all that emotion you have bottled up, I suggest you start by just letting yourself go and having a good cry.”

Harry looked at him without tears, “I suppose I’ve forgotten how.  Is it too late for me?”





Seamus and Neville watched as Scootaloo and Lavender danced the Hopak on Ron’s trunk to no avail.  They tapped their feet to the drum cadence of "Auch Sprach Zarathustra" as Parvati and Apple Bloom pounded it on Dean’s.

“I have a question,” Seamus said after a few minutes.  “Can Philomena flame you into a trunk?”

Scootaloo stopped mid-jump, and the rest of the girl’s collectively face palmed.





“Harry,” Discord said, “I’m going to send you to Hogwarts now.  Don’t worry about being sent back to the Dursley’s.  Right now, no one has the right to make you do that.  All you need to do is go and enjoy your time with your herdmates.”

Harry wordlessly nodded his head.  A small smile starting to form on his lips.

Discord snapped his claws, and the colt was gone.  

“Ahem!” Discord looked down to locate the feminine voice.  The maid, who had taken in the story, continued.  “I need you to take me to the Dursleys.”  She put on her best puppy dog eyes and gave a quivering pout.

“That’s not fair,” Discord whimpered.

“P-p-p- please.” She pleaded.  “Somepony is about to get hurt, and I’m sure you would much prefer it be them rather than you.”

“Um . . . bye!”  Discord disappeared, proving that you can teach an old draconequus new tricks.





A crowd of first-years waited with bated breath in front of Ron's trunk.  They knew he was a heavy sleeper, but this was taking far too long.  The anticipation was becoming unbearable.  At long last, the lid to Ron's truck popped open, allowing Ron's protests to reach those outside the trunk.  Parvati appeared first.  She stepped over the lip of the trunk backward, dragging Ron by his armpits.  Scootaloo followed, carrying Ron by his legs.

Ron continued his vocabulary lesson as the girls set him down.  Hermione noticed something was amiss.  “Girls,” she said, “why didn’t you let him get dressed?  He can’t go to breakfast in just his boxers.”

“He can’t?” Scootaloo asked.

“No, he most assuredly cannot.”  Lavender backed up Hermione.

“Okay.”  With the decisiveness of Alexander the Great, Scootaloo rectified the situation.

“Hey!” Ron cried.

“Scootaloo!” Hermione cried out, as Lavender hid her face in her hands and Parvati blushed.

“What?” Scootaloo asked innocently.  “He’s not in just his boxers anymore.”





In a daze, Harry climbed the stairs to exit his trunk.  Human once again, he reflected on everything that had happened since classes had ended yesterday.  Lifting the lid, he saw that the rest of the herd was there, staring at Ron’s trunk.

“Hello,” Harry said, startling everyone.

“Harry,” Ginny cooed, “when did you get back?”

“Just now.”  Harry climbed out of his chest and went to stand with his friends, his herd.

“How’d it go?” Apple Bloom asked as Ginny and Hermione wrapped Harry in a hug.

“It was an experience,” Harry answered.

“You got a ring like ours,” Sweetie noted happily.

“Yeah.”  Harry nodded.

“Let’s see then.” Scootaloo insisted, hopping around the hug group.

“After breakfast,” Harry said, “I’m starving.”

“I kin relate to that,” Apple Bloom agreed.

“Okay, I’m dressed.”  The lid of Ron’s trunk popped open once again.  “Harry, hey mate, how’d it go?”

“I’m still trying to decide on that myself,” Harry admitted.

“I wish you were able to stay with us yesterday,” Neville said.  "We had a lot of fun."

“Yeah,” Lavender agreed, “except for the first movie.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Dean complained, drawing glares from several others.

“I have a question,” Harry said.

“Yes?” Seamus said, “What’s that?”

“Who’s the lady bursting out of her robes?”

“Geeeeeeem!” Magah greeted the last missing foal buoyantly, nuzzling him as she checked for injuries.





“Aaaaaah.” Dan gibbered as Emma ran her hand down his length.  Each stroke brought another episode of pure ecstasy.  Sticking his tongue out he lavished at her touch.

Emma, in turn was giddy over the pleasure she was causing her husband.  She was never going to be able to look at another brush again in the same manner as before.





It was not a happy time in the tiny London apartment.  Dressed in her best outfit, Elisa Bates gathered her daughter and prepared to head for the bus stop.  She had to get to the bottom of the nonsense she had been hearing.  Little green men did not just hand over large amounts of money for no discernable reason.

Whatever it was, it could not be on the up and up.  She was terrified her daughter was being set up for something, something highly illegal and almost impossible to get out of.  She was terrified that she would have to take the money and flee the country with her daughter.  She was terrified she and her daughter were about to be sold into slavery.  She was terrified that Abagail had somehow stolen the money.  She was terrified.

Unable to hide the trembling of her hand, she opened her front door just in time to find an individual was in the process of raising their own hand to knock.

Spooked at the unanticipated intrusion, Elisa stared at the woman in the Victorian Era dress.  After blinking owlishly for a moment, the fleeing mother said, “Yes?”

“Hello, I am here for Abagail Bates,” the woman said, confirming Elisa’s worst fears that her daughter had gotten in over her head.

“Who.”  Elisa bit her lip and tried again.   “Who are you?”

“I apologize; I didn’t mean to alarm you,” the woman said.   “I am Professor McGonagall, and I’m here to introduce you to a new world.”

Eyes narrowing, Elisa asked, "What kind of world."

Abagail smiled at the professor's response.  "Do you believe in magic?"

 
> Chapter 33: Basic Pet Care
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The alluring scent of fertile farmland forced its way past the activated charcoal filter of the dowdy hatchback.  Somehow, when a drive through the countryside was mentioned, Myrtle had assumed there would be a road.  There wasn't even so much as a dirt path leading to the house in the distance; a moat of lush green meadow buffered it from vehicle traffic.

The aggressive tread of all-terrain tires clawed swaths of turf, leaving behind muddy, brown tracks as Myrtle maneuvered her car around boulders barely visible in the tall grass.  The car wove drunkenly as they approached what Myrtle was reluctant to describe as a house.  Had she not known of the existence of magic, she would have marveled at the fantastic feat of engineering that would otherwise have been required to keep the thing standing.  The architectural style could be described as incoherent.  The construction would charitably be described as haphazard.  It looked like a bunch of children had gotten together and decided to build a clubhouse without regard to building materials, stress limits, cosmetic appeal, or, for that matter, gravity.  The dwelling would have given any self-respecting architect prolonged nightmares.

After the deceptively treacherous terrain had forced her into maneuvers that would give a stunt driver a heart attack, Myrtle was seriously considering trying one of the other locations that Professor Flitwick had suggested.  After recovering from a particularly vicious skid, she saw a couple of redheads, no doubt husband and wife, exiting the dwelling and looking in her direction.  Sighing, she traversed the remaining distance and pulled up beside the pair.  The wife, a large woman looked on with suspicion, frowning until she confirmed that Myrtle and Amy were the only occupants of the car.  Her expression changed to a welcoming smile.  At the same time, the husband ogled the car with a covetous expression.

Killing the engine, Myrtle unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door.   “Good morning,” she said brightly, exiting her vehicle.

“Good morning,” the woman and the man returned together as they watched Amy exit the car, dragging her broom from the back seat.

“Hello, my name is Myrtle Smith.  I hope we aren’t intruding,” Myrtle said, feeling uncomfortable, “but Professor Flitwick, from Hogwarts, suggested that we see about meeting local magical families and inquiring about allowing my daughter to fly within wards.”

“Oh!” the woman said, standing a little straighter as the man started to circle Myrtle’s car like a lion around wounded prey.  “Hello, my name is Molly Weasley and this is my husband, Arthur.”  The man stopped and waved at the mention of his name before going back to devouring the car with his eyes.  “Welcome to the Burrow.”





The Gryffindor common room was abuzz with activity when the first-year herd came down the stairs from the boy’s dorm.  Several other groups were getting ready to head to breakfast as well.  Ron breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he realized he wasn't the last one up.

Rather than offer a greeting, the red-faced Percy pointed at Magah and demanded, “Why isn’t she wearing any knickers?”

"For shame, Percy!" said George.

"The first thing you notice about a woman," continued Fred.

"Is her knickers?!" the two ended in unison.

“Leave off it, Percy,” Ginny said.  “We had enough trouble getting her to wear the robe.”

“Jagoooo,” Magah agreed, coming over to examine Percy’s outstretched hand.

“That’s your pet unicorn?!” a sixth-year girl gasped, scrutinizing the woman wearing robes sized for a petite first-year.

“She’s not a pet!” Sweetie insisted.

“She’s not wearing knickers.”  Percy tried again as his face became redder than his hair.

Ron rolled his eyes.  "My brother, Tom, the letch."

Magah considered the finger pointed in her direction and decided to nibble on it softly.

“That outfit might be worse than letting her run around naked,” Katie Bell noted, joining the discussion.

“Aaaaa aaa aaa.” Percy acknowledged as Magah decided she liked the salty sweat he was producing and started to lick his palm.

“We should probably do something before the boys have a meltdown,” the sixth-year girl said, and Apple Bloom noticed the rest of the upper year boys in the room were staring at Percy jealously.

“No, no,” one of the aforementioned boys said.  “Just leave her be.  We’re good.”

Angelina Johnson sent a stinging hex in his direction.

“This is wrong on so many levels,” the sixth-year girl said, taking out her wand to do some transfiguration.

“Oooooooo,” Percy agreed as Magah started to work on another finger.





“Good morning.”

“Eeek!”

Discord watched Amelia Bones bring her breathing back under control. “I seem to be getting a lot of that this morning,” he noted.

“That never happened,” Amelia told him firmly after a few seconds.

“Right.”  He nodded.  “You never engaged in vocal lessons this morning.”

“Exactly.”  Amelia glared at him grimly for a few seconds.  “So, Mr. Discord, what brings you to my home on this occasion?”

“I have a few official letters, and you are the most prominent member of your government currently available.”

“Available?”  Amelia narrowed her eyes at the man.   Instead of his dapper brown business suit, he now sported a sapphire blue wizard's robe.  “In case you missed it, I was having a bit of a lay in.”

Discord looked around the tastefully decorated bedroom and admitted, “Yes, I hadn’t realized that until after I popped in.  Nice comforter, by the way, I never would have pegged you for one to choose pink.”

“What’s wrong with pink?”

“Nothing.”  Discord permitted.  “It’s that I pictured you as more of an autumn.”  He tapped his chin with a finger as he eyed her critically.

Amelia growled deep in her throat.

“You know what?” he said.  “I’ll take ten.”  With a snap of his fingers, he was gone in a flash of light.





The Great Hall was about a quarter full.  On the weekends, most of the students preferred to start their day with a few extra hours of sleep.  The lucky minority who had chosen to maintain a scholar's schedule were engaging in a heretofore unknown pastime.  The entrance of the Gryffindor first-year herd brought a spectacle that drew everyone's attention.  There may have been just a little bit of drooling involved.  To be perfectly honest, there was a considerable about of drooling involved, and not all of it from the male members of the student body.

“Geeeh?” Magah announced upon finding herself the center of attention once again.

“No need to stare,” the sixth-year Gryffindor girl called out.  “She’s just a unicorn in a transfigured dress.”

The assembled students crowded even closer and continued to stare, and drool.

The sixth-year girl said, with a blush, “Yeah, I knew it was a stupid thing to say as soon as it left my mouth.”

Meanwhile, Magah, clad in a golden sundress, hurried over to the Gryffindor table.  The waiting feed bag of oats was soon in her hands.

“Taaaa!” she happily chirped as she tried to bury her head in the container, somehow managing a mouthful of her prize.  What began with eager munching turned into slow, thoughtful chews as a look of ultimate betrayal crossed her features.  “Bleaaaah!” she spat, removing the offending mess from her mouth

“If’n y’all think that was bad,” Apple Bloom muttered, taking her seat, “jus' wait 'til you try your first flower in human form.”





The melodic chime of an expired kitchen timer filled the room.  “I’m back!” Discord announced.

“Eeeek!”

“Wow!  What amazing b . . . shower!  Yes, what an amazing shower you have here.  I just love the view. . . errrr decor.  You really outdid yourself.  You do believe I meant to say 'shower', right?”

Amelia’s fist connected.

“You punched me?” Discord gasped.  “I thought the proper response was to scream and deliver a good slap.”

Amelia’s fist connected again.

“Right, I’ll just be going now.”  Discord agreed and vanished with a snap of the fingers and a flash of light.





Harry watched as Sweetie and Magah sat next to each other with a platter coated with bacon grease between them.  “Well, it’s official, then,” he quipped.  “Unicorns are just carnivores waiting to happen.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat,” Dean agreed with a nod of his head.

“What?” Neville asked as Hermione groaned and placed her face in her hands.

“Boat.”  Dean emphasized, “Platters are sometimes called boats and . . . You know what, never mind.”

“Platters are called boats?” Ginny challenged.

“He’s reaching,” Hermione said, face still hidden.  “Reaching rather far, I might add.”





“You’ve been to Diagon Alley and the goblins just gave you money?” Professor McGonagall asked for the second time.  “And you didn’t sign a contract or do a heritage test?”

“Yes.”  Abagail nodded her head happily, glad that she was being believed.  “That’s exactly right.”

Professor McGonagall leaned back on the couch and said, “Please excuse me; I’ve had a bit of a surreal couple of weeks, and this news is just the icing on the cake.”

“You’ve had a surreal couple of weeks?” Elisa’s voice cracked.  “You come here, tell me that magic’s real, that my daughter can use it.  You changed into a cat for demonstration purposes, never mind what you did to the poor table.  Now you’re telling me that you’ve had a surreal couple of weeks?!  I hope you can appreciate just how unsettling that is!”

A small frown graced Minerva’s lips as she berated herself for adding another crack to the anxious woman’s already fragile psyche.  “I assure you, it is nothing you should be concerned over,” she told Elisa.  “The surprises have just been coming back to back lately.”

“I suppose I can relate to that,” Elisa said, studying her daughter, who was watching the two older women with a smile plastered on her face.   “It’s just so much to take in.  You want to take my daughter away to school; goblins are real; magic is real.”

“I do apologize for the haste,” Minerva said. “Your daughter’s name just recently appeared in the Book of Acceptance, and the term has already started.  Under normal circumstances, I would have been here over the summer to ease you into the transition.  As it is, she will have a week’s worth of catching up to do.  Nothing too arduous, mind you, but a challenge nonetheless.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Elisa admitted.  “It is all so very overwhelming.”

“I suggest we start by seeing exactly what the situation is with the goblins,” Minerva said, standing up.  “Once we have that sorted, we can decide how to proceed.”





Apple Bloom didn’t even bother to look up from her meal when owls flooded the Great Hall.  Two of the flock sought out both Hermione and Sweetie Belle to deliver copies of the "Daily Prophet".

“Remember,” Parvati commented, “you have to write home today.”

“We’ll get right on it after breakfast,” Seamus vowed.

“Hey, look,” Sweetie said, scanning her paper.  “The Black person made a public statement to the papers, wireless, and magazine.  What’s a wireless?”

“I’ll explain later,” Lavender said as Ginny leaned into her to better hear the news.  “What does it say about Black?”

“He read a prepared statement then gave a magical vow affirming it was true to the best of his knowledge,” Hermione informed everyone.  “There’s no doubt he’s innocent now.  This is going to be a black eye for the Ministry.”

“Dean has been struggling with the puns lately.”  Scootaloo chastised Hermione, “Don’t you go starting as well.”

“What was the statement?” Harry demanded.

“Just a sec,” Hermione said after eyeing Scootaloo, “I’ll read it verbatim.  'I, Sirius Black the Third, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do herby attest that I was never affiliated with the terrorist group known as the ‘Death Eaters’ nor attended to their lord in any manner.  I did not willingly or knowingly betray my brother in all but blood, James Potter, or his wife Lily Potter.  My vows as a magical godfather preclude the possibility of even attempting to betray my godson, Harry Potter.  Furthermore, the wanton destruction and muggle deaths that occurred prior to my arrest were the sole responsibility of Peter Pettigrew.  I further attest that I am innocent of all charges claimed by the Ministry and have been held without trial for the past decade.'”

“Ooo.”  Sweetie commented, “That’s not ambiguous by any means.”

“Am . . . bee . . .what?” Scootaloo inquired.

“She means it’s not open to interpretation,” Hermione said.  “I’ll bet his lawyer wrote it up for him.”

“Are you telling me that I should have been living with him instead of the Dursleys?” Harry meekly asked.

“It would seem that way,” Hermione agreed.  “The Ministry really dropped the ball on this one.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” a man’s voice said.  Looking up the children realized that their tutor had made his way over to the table

“Good morning, Mr. Goodman,” they all obediently chirped as the man examined Magah.

“I see you managed to get her to wear clothes,” he commented, watching the transfigured unicorn cram custard tarts into her face.

“That was harder than you might suspect,” Parvati grumbled, dejectedly.

“Table manners are next on the list I take it?” Mr. Goodman asked.

“She’s marginally better than Ron and Scootaloo,” Lavender noted.  “I guess we could hold a class.”

“Sounds like you will be having have a busy weekend, then,” Mr. Goodman said, heading toward the professor’s table.  “I guess we shouldn’t expect you to produce a cure for lycanthropy before the end of the month then?”

Watching the tutor leave, Neville asked, “So . . . a letter to Twilight as well as writing home then?”

“Nah.”  Apple Bloom shook her head.  “I know Zecora has that recipe.  Ah can jus’ ask her for it.”





As her fellow tutor sat next to her at the professor’s table, Marcy Weiss said, “Did you just give them an impossible task to do?  It’s not like we weren’t warned about doing that very thing last night.  You’re lucky the headmaster wasn’t present to hear that.”

Richard looked at her and said, “I have a cousin who’s a werewolf; I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“You can’t truly expect them to actually come up with something,” Marcy huffed.  “Gobs of people have tried to find a cure over the centuries.”

“Gobs of people have tried to resurrect the dead.”

“You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment,” Marcy warned.

“Maybe,” Richard agreed, “but it can’t hurt.”

“You’re cleaning up the mess,” Marcy reminded him, returning to her meal.

“What are the odds of there actually being a mess?”

Abruptly, the divinations professor, who was making a rare appearance, stood up.  Her chair clattered to the ground as her eyes unfocused and she intoned in a loud, unearthly voice. 
  
"CHAOS ADVANCES AND FATE RECEDES.
  COUNSEL PREVIOUSLY INVALUABLE NOW MISLEADS.
  WHAT ONCE WAS CERTAIN CAN NO LONGER ABIDE,
LEAVING UNFORESEEN ALLIES TO REACH ACROSS THE DIVIDE.
  HOPE SHALL THRIVE WHERE DESPAIR ONCE ENDURED. 
BE WARNED COPIOUS TREE SAP IS THE ONLY THING ASSURED."
 

Stunned silence dominated the hall for a short eternity before Professor Babbling uttered, “I can’t believe she just delivered a true prophecy in front of everybody.”

“True prophecy?”  Mr. Goodman said, “I can’t believe we let her participate in the betting pool.”

 



“That was terrible poetry,” Hermione opined.

“Yeah.”  Lavender nodded her head.  “Like someone just threw words together and hoped they rhymed.”

There was a pause.  Sweetie Belle asked, "Do you think she was talking about us?"

Sarcastically, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo said, “Nah.”





Shoppers were a rarity in Diagon Alley on Saturday mornings.  Shopkeepers would generally be enjoying brunch with scant hope of any business at that hour.  What few witches and wizards there were scurried about on urgent business, sharing only perfunctory greetings.  As a rule, finding those in the wizarding community who were morning people on Saturdays was nigh impossible.  Finding what they did on Friday nights was not a topic to be discussed in polite company.

Professor McGonagall chaperoned the buoyant Abagail and the overwhelmed Elisa down the sparsely populated street.  Their goal, the marble monstrosity that was Gringotts, was quickly reached since no one impeded their progress.  As they approached the entrance, the paired guards brought their fists to their chests and bowed, still holding their wicked halberds vertical.  The act, for Minerva, effectively removed any illusion she may have harbored that this was going to be a normal bank visit.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, all the goblins on the main floor flanked the entryway in an inverted "V" formation.  In unison, they prostrated themselves before the small group and intoned, “How may we serve?”

“We’d like to see the Overseer.”  Abagail beamed when the two older women just wordlessly stared in shock.   “He told me to come to him if I had any requests or questions.”

The goblin at the point of the "V" stood.   “A runner will be sent ahead to tell him of your imminent arrival.  Please follow me.”

Numbly, Minerva followed after the newest Hogwarts student and her muggle mother.  She promised herself that she’d wait until after she got back to Hogwarts to break out the firewhiskey.

. . .

The Overseer never spoke with humans.  Never.





“So,” Neville said as the herd entered the portal to the Gryffindor common room, “whose trunk are we headed for?”

“Ron’s,” Lavender said.  “We need to have you boys key us to your trunks.”

Philomena chirped her agreement from Sweetie Belle’s shoulder.

“Then we can get to work on those letters,” Parvati reminded everyone.

“Actually,” Dean suggested, “we may want to start with potty training Magah.”

“Dean!” Hermione gasped.  “Why would you even mention such a . . .eeeew!”

"G-g-golly!" stammered Neville.

“Magah!” Scootaloo, Sweetie, and Parvati all exclaimed.  “Bad unicorn!”

“Chuuu?”  Magah tilted her head in confusion over the sudden anger the foals were radiating.

“She’s never done that before.” Sweetie insisted.   “Why start now that she’s human?”

“As a matter of fact,” Hermione corrected, “she probably has.  I believe the castle has been cleaning up after her automatically.”

“More likely the house elves have been.”  Lavender nodded her head.  “But, it’s still gross.”

“House elves?” Scootaloo questioned.

“How did you think your laundry gets done?” Parvati asked in return.

“Well,” Sweetie said, “now she needs a bath.”

“Let’s just get her up . . . Magah don’t squat there!” Lavender screeched.

“Ron, Harry, Neville, Sweetie!” Apple Bloom boomed. “Get ‘er upstairs and introduce her to a toilet.  The rest of y’all help me find somethang to get this cleaned up with!”




The normally cool cavern chamber was sweltering with anger.  The  situation was completely unacceptable.  Something had to be done about  the appearance of the new Goblin Lord. There must be some loophole, some  relief, some way out of the ancient covenant.  The meeting table was  packed full. Goblin advisors from ever field sat in attendance.  Every  available mind was being tapped.

Enraged, Overseer looked up expectantly at the runner who practically burst in as he rushed to delivered his news.

The runner broke protocol and blurted out, "There are two of them!"  





Anypony could be forgiven for thinking that Fluttershy was a weak flyer.  Anypony who saw the yellow and pink streak leading from the train station to her cottage would have quickly changed their opinion.  Fluttershy was more than a little anxious when she opened the door to her home.  She hadn’t planned on staying the night at the palace; it had just happened.  Unfortunately, that meant nopony had fed the animals that morning, and nopony had fed them the night before.  While none of her guests would starve from less than a day's forced fasting, some might be sorely tempted to partake of their fellow guests.  It was prudent to remember that her home was a sanctuary only so long as her guests were content enough to resist their natural instincts.  Thus, keeping them well-fed was a priority.

Fluttershy acted quickly to disrupt the natural order.  “Mr. Whiskers!  Please put down Mr. Squeakers this instant!”

“Meow!”

“I don’t care who started it.  Put him down now!”

“Meow?”

“No, you may not have just a little nibble,” Fluttershy insisted.  “Down now, please.”

“Putooey!”

“And you,” Fluttershy said, shifting her focus, “how many times do I have to warn you not to taunt critters who think you are tasty and go good with ketchup?”

“Meow.”

Fluttershy rolled her eyes.  “Or mustard.”

“Meow.”

“No!”  Fluttershy changed her focus again.  “Onions are very, very bad for kitties; they can make you very, very sick.”

Mr. Whiskers was spared further nagging when a white rabbit raced down the stairs and planted himself in front of Fluttershy to begin squealing and stamping his foot rapidly.

“Angel,” Fluttershy said, worried, “I’m sorry; it’s hard to understand you when you’re so excited.  Who’s Timmy and which well?”

The rabbit frowned, crossed its front paws, and squealed slowly.

“I’m so sorry.”  Fluttershy blushed.   “'Rat' and 'Timmy' sound so similar in rabbit speech.”

Angel Bunny squealed at her some more.

“Oh my,” Fluttershy gasped.  “Where is he?”

The rabbit pointed a paw up the stairs.  That was all the prompting Fluttershy needed; she zipped up the stairs without another word.  Let it never be said that Fluttershy is a weak flyer.





Fay lifted the lid of Ron’s trunk.  “Are you sure they’re in here?” she asked the anxious first-years.

“It’s where we were heading before the mess,” Scootaloo answered.  “The colts still have to key us to their trunks, like they have the prefects.”

“And why are you here, Terisa?” Fay asked of the tagalong.

“Morbid curiosity,” the sixth-year girl replied.

“Are y’all down thar?!” Apple Bloom called down into the trunk.

“Yes!” Sweetie’s voice returned.  “We’re in the bathroom!”

“In the bathroom?” Fay knitted her eyebrows together and climbed into the chest.  Seconds later, she skidded to a halt, taking in the scene.  Ron, Neville and Harry had stripped down to their boxers and Sweetie was in just her knickers.  The four of them were trying their best to wash down Magah with soapy wash cloths.  Unfortunately for them, Magah seemed to regard it as a wrestling game and was having a blast dunking them each in turn.

“Oh,” the sixth-year girl cooed, “this is just priceless.”

“A little help?” Sweetie asked, after surfacing for air.

“You’re the one who wanted a unicorn for a pet,” Fay stated, holding back a chuckle.

“I keep telling everyone,” Sweetie scowled, “she's not a pet.”

“You’re the only one who thinks that,” Fay replied.

“And, incidentally, she’s the only one with a unicorn,” Terisa noted.

“Let’s get in thar and help,” Apple Bloom commanded and started to remove her robe.

“It suddenly occurs to me,” Hermione said, following her lead, “that you have no idea what the phrase ‘nudity taboo’ means.”

Fay giggled.  “That’s more of a muggle concept.  You're in for a shock when you realize that there is only one prefect bathroom, or that the changing rooms and showers are segregated by house teams instead of gender.”

“Glub!” Harry protested as he became Magah’s next victim.





“Oh my!  We need to get you to the vet right away!”

“Meow?”

“No, we most certainly won’t just skip the vet and name him ‘lunch’!”





The scratch of quills on parchment filled the cozy kitchen in Ron's trunk.  The herd was sitting at the table, writing long-overdue letters, when a somewhat bedraggled man in a sapphire blue wizard's robe popped in.

“Discord!” the ponyborn and Harry cried gleefully.

“Well, hello to you all as well.”  Discord smiled as Scootaloo launched herself at him for hugs, followed closely by Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.

“Are you here for Harry again?” Sweetie asked.

“No.”  Discord shook his head.  “The shock from his first visit hasn’t worn off quite yet.”

“Just here to chat then?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Yes,” he purred, “and I come bearing gifts.”

“Oooo!”  Scootaloo hopped eagerly from one foot to another.  “Presents!”

Discord gestured at the remaining herd members, who were quietly watching the exchange.  “Now, now, you already have yours; these are for the rest of your herd.”  With those words he pulled out an exquisite puzzle box, opening it to reveal eight copper rings.

“Thank you!” Sweetie gushed at the sight of them.

“That thar is really swell of ya,” Apple Bloom agreed.

There was a flash of flames, and Philomena appeared with a corked flask and a letter.

“Also, I was hoping Philomena would consent to delivering some letters for me,” Discord said upon seeing the phoenix.  "I hate to impose, but this is urgent."

“Oh,” Scootaloo said running her hand close to his face but not touching, “does that have something to do with how you got these two shiners?”





The ornate Victorian parlor hosted a rare guest.  The trappings spoke of dignity and prominence, as befitted its owner.  The table was set for tea for two, complete with platter of the tastiest morsels the house elf could create.  Despite the formal setting, there was a hint of amusement in the air.

“It’s your own fault you know,” Judge Judith said to her guest.  “He did tell you he’d be back in ten minutes.”

“He apparated right into my shower,” Amelia growled.

“As if you never took a shower with men during auror training,” Judith snorted.   “Just admit that you overreacted and that you owe him an apology.”

“Right into my shower,” Amelia repeated.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take proper advantage of the situation.”  Judith smiled.

“What?!”

“Come now, you’re not getting any younger, and he did say he liked the view.”

“That would have been irresponsible.”  Amelia crossed her arms.  “I can't just go about conjuring up contraceptive potions willy-nilly.”

“What’s the worst that could have happened?” Judith asked, unrelenting.  “You could suddenly have a life outside your department?”

“I have Susan,” Amelia reminded her.

“It’s not the same.”

“Besides, Miss Rutter seems to have her eyes on him.”

“She doesn’t need to know you borrowed him,” Judith countered.

“I can’t believe we are having this conversation!”  Amelia exclaimed.

“I can’t believe you passed up the opportunity.”

“Next time he pops in to my shower, I’ll make sure to ravish him,” Amelia said sarcastically.

“May I get that as a magical oath?”

“You’re serious.” Amelia noted in alarm.

“Of course, I am; it’s the best thing that could happen to you right now.”

“When did my love life become the subject of conversation?”

Judith took a sip of her tea, “The second you brought up him appearing in your shower.”

A flash of flames heralded the arrival of a red and golden bird.

“Looks like you’re saved by the phoenix,” Judith noted reaching out for the stack of letters the phoenix was carrying, only to pull her hand back when the bird tugged them away from her.  “Seems like he found another way to deliver those.  You really do owe him an apology.”

Sighing, Amelia retrieved the letters and thanked Philomena.   “Let’s see what’s so important that he had to wake me.” She broke an official-looking wax seal on the first letter.

“Well?” Judith asked after watching her friend peruse the paper.

“Great, we don’t need this.” Amelia sighed, “It’s an official letter of condemnation for Albus Dumbledore, signed by three princesses.”

“At least they didn’t get the king or queen to sign it.”  Judith grimaced.  “Well, now we know Equestria has a monarchy.”

“It gets better,” Amelia said, nose in the second letter.  “Official notice of dual citizenship for one Harry Potter.”

Judith whistled.  “They’re serious about this.”

“Oh joy,” Amelia remarked as she read the third letter, “a restraining order against Albus as well as request that we honor it.”

“As if last week wasn’t fun enough by itself.” Judith sighed.

Amelia held up the final envelope.  She could clearly feel the power pulsing within.  It was bright red and addressed to Albus Dumbledore, no honorific.  "So, whose turn is it to bell the cat?"





“Come in,” Richard Goodman called out upon hearing a knock on the tutors’ common room door.

“You wanted to see me?” Professor Snape asked with barely disguised contempt as he entered the room.

Sitting on a couch, Richard nodded his head at a corked flask sitting on the coffee table before him.  The flask seemed to be made of a thick glass and contained a thick grey sludge that bubbled like a lava lamp.

“What is that?” Snape asked, picking up the potion and examining it through the glass.

“Cure for lycanthropy,” Richard stated flatly.

Snape’s head snapped up and his gaze narrowed.   “Please elaborate.”

“Apple Bloom brought it by just a while ago.”  Richard sat back.  “Apparently she was ordered to tell us that it is too complicated for her to brew on her own and that she wasn’t to try without strict supervision.”

“Good,” Snape said uncorking the flask.  “It seems her prior potions teacher has some sense, unlike her town librarian.”

“They got the resurrection spell from a town librarian?!” Richard gasped.

Snape merely grunted as he cautiously waved the potion’s scent toward his nose.

“She also mentioned that she would have gotten this to me sooner if they hadn’t needed to bathe and potty train Magah.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement,” Snape noted, replacing the cork.  “Let me get this to a contact at St. Mungo’s.  It needs to be tested before it can be administered, and I simply don’t have either the time or the willing werewolf needed for a proper test.”

“I was going to give it to my cousin,” Richard objected.

“Give your cousin an untested potion?”  Snape openly sneered.  “That would not be wise.  Let the healers do their job and see if it’s safe for consumption.”

"I guess I can wait and err on the side of caution," Richard agreed.

"You'd better be prepared for a long wait," warned the professor.  "It'll take forever to find a werewolf desperate enough to try an untested potion."
> Chapter 34: Gaining a Level in Color
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Golden Oak Library bore mute testimony to the fact that Ponyville had started as an earth pony settlement.  Vibrant green leaves and small brown acorns showed that the hollow tree was still quite alive.  Outside, it housed a colony of hornets in a nest in its upper branches.  Inside, it housed the town's lending library, one baby dragon, one owl, and one unicorn prodigy.

Under ordinary circumstances, one would lay even odds on seeing the dragon working during normal business hours.  He was still growing, and there was much more to life than dusty old books.  The unicorn was another matter entirely.  More often than not, she could be found in her study with her muzzle in a book and her ears turned to listen for patrons' requests.

That Twilight Sparkle was now in her study with her muzzle buried in a book would come as a surprise to absolutely nopony.  After all, it was a new book that had arrived while she was away in Canterlot.  What would have surprised most ponies, however, were the multitude of candle stubs that lay on the desk and the length of the scroll she had covered with meticulous notes.  This reading was a matter of duty, not pleasure.

The newness of the book was a matter of novelty, not age.  The print in front of the unicorn was the last of its run, and it was over fifty years old.  Books on marriage contracts and the laws pertaining to them were generally of interest only to desperate JD students in search of arguments for moot court.  Why should anypony else care about something that had been unattainable for a quarter century?

The books themselves would leave any decent pony thoroughly disgusted.  They were filled with case studies of the way that, over the years, ponies had attempted to twist the contracts to satisfy their less than noble intentions.  With the gender disparity that left males as only a quarter of the population, many parents had, understandably, done some outlandish things to ensure that their daughters would have a stallion in their lives.  Unfortunately, most of these things had left the unlucky stallions as little more than chattel.  These abuses had led to a progression of laws to fill every loophole a pony could imagine.  Leave it to Discord to show that imagination is without limit.

Sighing, Twilight closed the book after reading the last page.  The responsibilities laid upon the mare in the contract were onerous.  The penalties for violations were draconian.  There was no denying that Sweetie Belle was now saddled with duties that would leave a full-grown mare screaming for relief.

The saving grace was the signed and filed herd agreement.  Its very existence wreaked havoc with most of the laws in the book.  The laws simply had been written with only individual mares in mind.  Ironically, this chaos promised to be an improvement for everypony involved, including the colt.  In short, the first valid marriage contract in twenty-five years was going to send shock waves throughout pony society.





The din of 256 tones vying for dominance marked the open-air video arcade in the center of Ponyville.  Throngs of fillies and colts of all ages exchanged one bit for the chance to manipulate eight bits.  In the middle of it all was a comedic sight that was somehow mundane, despite its silliness.  Two friends were at a gaming console that was ideally sized for neither.  One friend was a typical patron; the small brown colt wore a propeller beanie.  The village vidiot was the undisputed champion at these games; he could play for hours on a single bit.  His companion, however, would have caused a major stir anyplace outside of Ponyville.  Even in this jaded town, the draconequus who towered over the console, waiting his turn, was a spectacle regardless of what he did.  That he was throwing fireballs that entered gameplay should have been astonishing, but, frankly, was not.

“Stop it Discord."  The colt complained as he wiggled on the stool that let him reach the controls, “This area is hard enough as it is.”

“I have to do something,” Discord countered.   “Your score is crushing mine.  Besides, this makes it more interesting, wouldn’t you say, Button Mash?”

“It just takes practice,” Button Mash explained.   “Soon, you’ll be keeping up on your own.”

“Mr. Discord?” a new voice ventured from somewhere nearer the ground.

Looking down, Discord addressed the pink filly with the distinct headdress.  “Yes?  Would you like a turn?  You could hardly do worse than I am.”

“No thank you."  The filly shook her head.  “My daddy has two of these in our game room.”

“What?” Button Mash asked, in shock, not taking his eyes off his game.

“They’re just dumb games,” the filly insisted.  “I need your help on something important.”

“Oh?"  Discord raised a questioning eyebrow even as Button growled, “They aren’t dumb.”

“You got Sweetie Belle a valid marriage contract."  The pink filly pointed an accusing hoof at Discord.

“Yes,” Discord agreed, making a grab for his wayward eyebrow, “I recall doing something along those lines.”

“I want one too."  The filly stamped a demanding hind leg.  Then, after a second’s pause, she added, “Please?”

Button Mash heard this and two things ran through his mind.  One part of his brain whispered seductively, “She has two arcade video games in her house."  Another part screamed in panic, “Run for your life, you fool!  Run now and don’t look back!”

Discord peered down at the adamant filly and smirked.   “You do?  Well now, Button, what do you think of . . .”  When Discord turned to look at his companion, all he saw was a dust trail leading down the street, already dissipating.

“I didn’t know he could move that fast,” the filly said with a touch of awe in her voice.   “He always seems so lethargic in class.”

“Yes, will wonders never cease?” Discord agreed, moving to take his turn.   “And isn’t 'lethargic' a big word for a young filly such as yourself?”

The filly shrugged dismissively.  "Sweetie Belle used to be in our class.”





“Here’s the last of them."  Sweetie Belle handed the last letter to Philomena.   “I thought your carry pouch would have been here by now, but it looks like you’ll just have to hold these in your claws for now.

Philomena trilled happily before disappearing in a ball of flames.

“Now that work's done,” Scootaloo said as she bounced eagerly, “it’s time to see you all change.”

“What?” Parvati and Dean asked.

“Harry,” Apple Bloom prompted, “y’all go first.  Use your ring.”

“Sure,” Harry said, “why not.”





“Did you hear screaming?" Terisa asked from her spot on the couch where she had been chatting with her friends.

“Nah,” one of her friends replied, watching as Fay and the seventh-year male prefect charged up the stairs to the boys' dorms, “that was squealing, not screaming, like when you see something adorable and just can’t keep it to yourself.”

Terisa shot her friend a skeptical glare.  “How can you tell the difference?”

“You weren’t here the last time they made that noise," her friend replied.  “Apparently, Apple’s animagus form looks like a walking plush doll; she probably just changed forms, and her friends are throwing another fit over it.”

“Apple has an animagus form?!” Terisa gasped in disbelief.

“Yeah.  As a matter of fact, let’s go have a looksee.  I’d like to take a gander for myself.”





Fay sighed inwardly as she descended the steps into Ron’s trunk.  The cries of ‘Bad unicorn!” and "Leggo!" were testimony that whatever she was about to find would not be covered by the rule book.

Sure enough, a clone of Lady Godiva holding up and studying a thrashing bundle of blue and black was doubtlessly not something written down anywhere in the prefect manual.

“Leggo!” the squirming mass of blue shouted, flailing both hooves and wings.  “Magah!  Leggo my tail!”

A jumble of first-years surrounded Magah, trying to persuade her to drop her prize.

“Hey!” Fay shouted, claiming everyone’s attention and causing all movement to halt.

“Coooooo?” Magah questioned, still holding a suddenly less animated burden.  It resolved into a blue pegasus colt, barely larger than a foal, holding its wings and legs closely to its body.

“Hi, Fay.”  The pegasus waved a hoof.  “Sorry to bother you again, we’re just having some problems training our unicorn; that’s all.”

Fay pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Why is she still naked?  Her bath was over an hour ago.”

“See the previous statement,” Parvati offered.

“Why is Potter just begging for me to make a joke about him being a little horse?” Fay asked.

“That would just be beating a dead horse,” Seamus complained.

“Not to nag, but such a joke would be lame,” Lavender agreed.

“Besides,” Dean insisted, “we were just horsing around.”

“No need to saddle us with the attempt,” Neville suggested.

Groaning, Fay looked to her fellow prefect for support, only to find that he had appropriated a cushion from a couch and was clutching in in front of him, against his waist, while he continued to stare at Magah.  He wasn’t going to be much help.

“Hey!” Harry called.  “I realize I’m just hanging around here, but SHE STILL HAS MY TAIL!”

“Don’t even think about starting on little tail jokes,” Fay warned, striding forward to claim Harry from Magah.  Her fellow prefect groaned loudly at her remark.

“I don’t think I know any little tail jokes,” Hermione admitted.

“I’m not buying it, by the way,” Fay said, handing Harry to a gleeful Ginny.

“Gaaaaavvvv!” Magah commented as she got on her hands and knees to continue to scrutinize Harry, pointed away from the prefects.  The male prefect made some distinctive strangled cries.

“Buying what?” Scootaloo asked, peering suspiciously at the older boy who was obviously trying to keep his distance.

Sighing, Fay nabbed a napkin from the nearby kitchen table.  She tossed it onto Magah and took out her wand.  “I don’t buy that you’ve taught Potter to be an animagus that quickly.  He can barely do a lumos.”

“Eeeeeeee!” commented the sixth-year girls as they descended the stairs and caught sight of Harry.

“Should I just put on tea?” Parvati asked as more people crowded into the trunk.

“That sounds absolutely wonderful,” George said from behind the girls.

“Scones too, if you don’t mind,” Fred added.

“Mine!” Ginny growled at the sixth-year who had tried to liberate Harry from her death grip.

“Need to breathe here, Ginny!” Harry commented.

Terisa poked Apple Bloom.  “Let’s see your other form, since we’re all here.”

“Ask Ron,” Apple Bloom answered. “It was his turn.”

“Not it!” Ron bellowed.

“Not it!” chorused through the room as first-years caught on.

“Not . . .” Lavender started, “aw, bloody hell!”

“Not it,” Seamus added.

“Wait a minute!’ Lavender snapped.

“You only got it half out.” Sweetie ruled.

"But Scoots didn't say it!"

Smirking, the purple-haired girl replied, "Medical waiver."

Watching the seventh-year male prefect rush up the stairs, Sweetie Belle asked, “Where’s he going with our pillow?”

“He just needs a quick shower,” Terisa answered, eyeing Harry hungrily.

“What’s with all the screaming?” Percy called out as he and the remainder of the Gryffindors trickled down the stairs.

“We’re going to need a whole lot more tea!” Dean called out to Parvati.





“Amelia?” Dumbledore said, taking in the small rocky isle, void of any notable feature except for a wooden table at its center.  “May I ask why you felt it urgent to portkey us all the way out here?”

“It’s on the table.  Good luck,” Amelia said and apparated away.

Dumbledore took a simple brass bracelet out of a hidden robe pocket and pointed his backup wand at it.   “Portus.”  Placing the jewelry on his wrist, he headed toward the table.  Not far from his destination he saw that the table bore a bright red envelope.  The missive throbbed with the cadence of a heartbeat.





Somewhere, in a monitoring station the equipment emotionlessly and systematically noted an anomaly.  Earthquakes were not common in that region of the world, let alone one that measured 5.3 on the Richter scale.

The watchers saw something far more uncommon than the monster they stalked.  A waterspout towered over the lake, followed shortly thereafter by a pseudo-tsunami.  Doubtless, Nessie was not pleased.





The healer walked away from the apparition point with a bemused look on his face and a heavy glass flask held loosely in his hand.  He wasn’t enthused with the course of action on which he was about to embark.  It would unquestionably be a waste of time, no matter which potion master had provided the material.  A cure for lycanthropy, indeed!  Even if the potion could transform the body, the mind would still be corrupt.  Werewolves were monsters, completely beyond redemption.

Still, he had a duty to make at least a token effort.  That meant he had to find a test subject from which to collect tissue samples.  That would take time, time better spent elsewhere.  His sock drawer still needed sorting.

Bemoaning his workload, the healer entered the crowded breakroom.

“Milo,” one of his friends called at the sight of him, “What’s with the frown?  You look like someone scheduled you a triple shift.”

Milo grimace and held up the flask he was carrying.  “Severus Snape just dropped a ton of work in my lap.  Behold, the cure for being a werewolf.”

“That’s a tall claim,” his friend said.  “I’m not going to wager on it working.”

“Severus gave you a cure for lycanthropy?”  Healer Tonks spoke up from where she was sipping on some juice.  “I’m surprised he’d work on that.”

“Untested cure,” Milo emphasized.  “Now, I have to find a willing werewolf to give me tissue samples.  I’m half tempted to just pour it down his throat and be done with it one way or another.”

“Well, that’s easy enough,” Healer Tonks said.  “I just happen to have a friend nearby who’d be more than happy to provide samples.”

“You’re friends with a werewolf?” Milo asked, aghast.

“Of course, I am,” she replied.  “He’s more like family than a friend.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll tell you what,” she said with a smile, ‘I’ll go get him and meet you in your office.”

Milo nodded his acceptance.  What a fortuitous turn of events; that had taken less than five minutes.  In retrospect, it should have come as no surprise that a member of the Black family had a werewolf readily available -- even a disowned member.





“Hey, Twilight you in here?”  Rainbow Dash’s shout reverberated through the oaken library.  “Twilight! You need to see this!”

Since coming to Ponyville, Twilight had seen and heard a lot of strange and wonderful things.  She could fill a book on the subject of Pinkie Pie alone.  Nonetheless, there were still things she told herself she’d never witness.  Things she’d never see or hear.

One of those things caused her to dart out of the basement storage room.  Her legs flailed futilely as she attempted to negotiate a turn on the slick wooden floor.  She received a practical lesson in traction and momentum as she slid into the wall.  One loud thud later, she pried herself out, and she was off again, ignoring the new dent in the solid oak wall of her home.

She had seen and heard a great many things since coming to Ponyville.  Until now, hearing fear in Rainbow Dash’s voice hadn’t been one of them.





Ron’s trunk, while not cramped, was unquestionably hosting a large tea party.  Eager upperclassmen prepared the refreshments using Ron's supplies.  Scone dough was mixed and kneaded by magic, and baking charms cooked them to perfection in a matter of seconds.  Underclassmen watched in awe as simple spells brought water and teapot to just the right temperature with a wave of the wand.  No one was so uncouth as to hurry the steeping.  Chatter died down as the promised entertainment was prepared.

Finding herself the center of attention, Lavender said, “I’m not sure I want to do this with so many people watching.”

Almost the entirety of the Gryffindor house looked back at her even more expectantly.

“It isn’t that bad,” Harry said encouragingly from his seat on Ginny’s lap, luxuriating as she stroked his back.

Lavender sighed and said, “Okay, but remember the rules.  No grabbing.”

“Get on with it!” one of the sixth-year boys urged.  “We’ve just got to see this!”

Sighing again, Lavender clapped her hands together then held them out before herself, leaning forward slightly.  “Here we go!”  A look of concentration crossed her face just before the human silhouette melted into that of a miniature pony.  A gasp rippled through the congregated house.

“Well, that’s singularly unoriginal,” one girl commented.  “She’s lavender.”

“Well, of course she’s Lavender,” Ron said loudly.  “You didn’t think she changed her name to Marcy, did you?”

“No,” the girl said, “I mean she’s lavender.”

“That’s right,” Dean said, backing Ron up.  “Her name is Lavender Brown.”

“No, no!”  The girl pointed in frustration at the new pony.  “She’s lavender.”

“Well, her mane and tail are brown,” Katie Belle offered.  “Someone seriously needs to be hexed for this pun.”

“The rest of her is purple,” Ron agreed.

“Lavender,” the first girl insisted.

“Yeah, that’s her name,” Seamus helpfully supplied.

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”  Fay broke in.  “She means that this particular shade of purple is lavender.”

“Well of course Lavender is that particular shade of purple,” a fourth-year boy noted.  “She’s sitting there; she has that particular shade, so that shade is Lavender.  Kind of circular logic and all that.”

“How can you say something so clever and completely idiotic at the same time?” the first girl asked.

“Geeee!”

“No!  Down Magah!” Fay admonished.  “Bad unicorn!  Don’t grab the little ponies.”

“What is with her and tails anyway?” Lavender screeched, futilely thrashing her hooves around.  “You’d think she’d be more considerate, since she has one of her own.”

“She certainly has a nice tail,” a seventh-year boy concurred.

“I said no tail jokes,” Fay snapped and sent a stinging hex his way.

“Wait a minute,” Harry piped up.  “Back up a sec.  I thought that lavender was a type of flower.”

“It is.”  Scootaloo grinned.  “And they’re tasty, too.”

“Tasty?” a third-year boy said.  “Well, I guess that explains why they have it as a flavor of shampoo.”

“Flavor of shampoo?” Terisa asked.

“Yeah, my mum has shampoo in tons of flavors.”  The boy nodded his head.  “Though, I’m of the opinion that they all taste the same.”

“I’m sorry I asked,” Terisa said with a grimace.

“Though, the mango peach honey kind is a touch sweeter than most,” the boy continued.

“That does actually sound good.”  Another boy smacked his lips.

“Are you guys seriously going to sit there and talk about eating shampoo while I’m hanging here by my tail?” Lavender snapped.





A flash of light announced the arrival of Twilight and Rainbow Dash.  Not even waiting to blink away the stars, the pair rushed the front door to the Apple family's home.

“Big Mac!” Rainbow yelled, easily outpacing Twilight.  “We need to borrow Lodestone!”

“Hold on thar,” Applejack said racing out of the farmhouse.  “What’s the matter?  Where’s the fire?”

Rainbow grabbed her and began shaking her violently.  “Where’s Lodestone?  We can’t find Discord and Philomena’s come and gone!  We need Lodestone!”

“He’s in the south field with Big Mac,” Applejack managed to stammer through chattering teeth.

Rainbow Dash didn’t even stop to thank her before she jetted off in the direction of the south field.

“What’s her problem?” Applejack growled.

“Read the last paragraph.” Twilight said tossing a letter at the farm mare, before she, too, made haste toward the aforementioned field.

Grumbling, Applejack retrieved the paper and followed Twilight’s instructions.

If Twilight had stopped to remember that she could teleport, she would have been the first mare to reach the south field.  If it had been any pegasus other than Rainbow Dash, Applejack would have outrun them, flying head start or not.





Dean looked down at his new form.   “The wings are nice,” he commented, stretching them to their fullest extent.

The Gryffindor girls ached to scoop him up and cuddle him as they cooed and watched the exercise.

“And the hooves are strangely comfortable,” Dean continued, “but I have one question, and it’s important.”

“Go ahead.”  Apple Bloom grinned at him.

“Listen carefully,” Dean demanded.

“We’re listening,” Hermione said in a reassuring tone.

Dean took a deep breath, then shouted, “WHY AM I PINK???!!!!!”

“Fuchsia, actually.” The girl who had made the lavender comment corrected.

“Pink!” Dean returned.

“Fuchsia.”

“I know pink when I see it.”

“We are not having this conversation again!” Fay roared.

“Pooooooiiiii!”

“Magah!  No!” Sweetie yelled.





Milo looked away from his chalkboard when Healer Tonks led a ragged man into his office.  “This is your friend?” he asked as way of greetings.

The subject walked forward and offered his hand.  “Hello, my name is Remus Lupin,” he said.  “Andi tells me you are working on a cure for lycanthropy and are in need of a test subject.”

“I’m sorry I can’t stay and make introductions, but I’m running late.  Don’t worry; I’ll be back in thirty minutes or so,” Healer Tonks said, turning to leave.  “Play nice you two.”

Making sure his wand was in his pocket and within ready reach, Milo turned to the werewolf Tonks had brought him.  “Hello, Mr. Lupin.  I am Healer Milo Yates.  Thank you for coming.  Earlier today I was informed by a master potion brewer that he had a cure for lycanthropy that he needed tested.”  He gestured toward his desk where the flask waited.  He then turned back to his blackboard.  “So far, I’ve just made the preliminary observations.  Color, dark grey.  Viscosity, similar to maple syrup.  Bubbles constantly at room temperature.  For some reason it is stored in an uncharmed, unusually thick, glass container.  Smells strongly of basil and pine.  I, personally, expected it to smell heavily of wolfsbane.”

“I didn’t smell any wolfsbane either,” Mr. Lupin commented.   “Tasted like peppermint with a hint of lemon.”

“You drank it?”  Milo hid a smirk as he turned to see the man had the empty flask in his hand.

“Wasn’t I supposed to?”

“We were supposed to test for toxicity, get baseline readings from you, and then test the potion on tissue samples well before consumption.”  Milo shook his head.  “The standard procedure for testing new potions for safe consumption takes hours of work.”

“I’m sorry; I thought when you gestured to it, that you meant for me to drink it.”

“Well, the standard method is intended for the safety of the test subjects, bureaucracy and all that,” Milo said.  “Just drinking it and hoping for the best tends to be hard on the test subjects.”

“Honestly, you had me at ‘cure for lycanthropy'.”

Milo stared at the man in front of him, already regretting setting up the situation for an easy misunderstanding.  “You’re nothing like I had imagined a werewolf would be.  I may have underestimated the potential good in a cure.”





Minerva sat in a wainscoted private room in the Leaky Cauldron.  When she had entered the pub, Tom had taken one look at her and had ushered her into the back for a little privacy and a fifth of quarter-century blended spirits.  After thanking her friend, Minerva set to proving she was of as much Scottish descent as the water of life in front of her.

The Overseer had said that the goblins would see to Abagail’s school supplies and have her at the castle in time for supper.  The Overseer, who never talked to humans, had personally taken the time to see to the needs of a human girl.  The very thought was preposterous, yet it just happened.  The goblins had practically tripped over themselves in their attempts to please both Abagail and her mother.  Minerva had no idea what to make of it.

In the short time she had spent with the her, Minerva had noted that Abagail was outgoing, curious, and fearless.  She suspected the girl would be getting along fabulously with the rest of the Gryffindor first-years.  There was no way Abagail would end up in any other house.

Sighing, Minerva poured two fingers of exquisite Scotch whisky into her glass.  She had thought this year would be interesting with just Lily’s child showing up and the Stone being hidden in the school.  She hadn’t anticipated the comical rate at which it exceeded her expectations.  The shocks were coming left and right.  While most were not unfavorable, she was loath to change her ways.  Talking ponies, a phoenix, a forest unicorn, a resurrection, and now Abagail.  Oh, and she shouldn’t forget the Hufflepuff’s new pet.  This year would have its own chapter in "Hogwarts, a History" by the time it was over.  All these incidents were good.  As much as they upset the status quo, they caused her no loss of sleep.

The one bad thing to happen was coloring her current disposition, making her react moodily, and resort to drinking in response to her surprise treatment by the goblins: Albus.  She had told him that they were the worst kind of muggles.  Every other oddity took a backseat to that mistake.  She knew with all her heart that he was committed to the path of light, but she couldn't fathom how he could stoop so low.

Mulling over what she should have done, she was confounded when an owl flew into the room and landed on the table to present a letter.  A quick check showed that she was in a windowless room with the door firmly closed.  How had the owl gotten in?

Taking the letter, Minerva emptied her glass before reading.





“Okay Hermione, it’s your turn,” Sweetie prompted.

“Are we doing something with Magah first?’ Hermione asked.  “I don’t fancy being held up by my tail.”

“We could put a collar on her,” a seventh-year boy suggested.  “I’ll hold the leash.”

Several girls sent stinging hexes his way.

“Don’t worry,” Terisa said, petting Dean as he lay on her lap.  “She barely picked Dean up; she’s getting used to the whole changing thing.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Dean grumbled.  “It wasn’t your tail.”

“You could just turn her back into her natural form,” a third-year girl suggested.  “That way, she wouldn’t have hands to pick you up.”

“I don’t fancy being trampled by a unicorn eager to see the new ponies,” Percy said, rejecting the proposal.  “Just cast a sticking charm on the couch and sit her on it.”

“Good idea,” one of the older girls said and proceeded to do just that.

“I can’t wait to try this,” Hermione gushed as she took the center of the room.  Not waiting for a response, she changed forms.

“Maaaaaaaaaaa!” Magah cried gleefully and lunged.

“Note to self,” Terisa said, still petting Dean, “sticking charm on couch doesn't stick cushions to couch.”

“I was right,” Hermione said. holding her hooves close to her body.  “This isn’t pleasant.”

“Two things of immediate note,” Angelina Johnson said, moving forward to help.  “First, don’t ever try hiding like that, a blind man could track you from a mile away.”

Hermione looked at her fluorescent orange hoof and said, “This color does scream, ‘Look at me! I’m right here!’”

“Secondly,” Angelina said, scooping up the filly, much to a frowning Magah’s disappointment, “you appear to be a unicorn.”





Despite it being Saturday, Amelia sat at her desk and tried to focus on paperwork.  She still couldn’t believe that Judith suggested she do something like that.  She had done so much to be seen as respectable, even going so far as to dye her hair grey.  She simply couldn’t afford to appear as a flighty young woman.  Imagine her, chasing after some man, a claimed man at that.  She didn’t even know why she was still thinking about it.

A silvery light proclaimed the arrival of a patronus.  The cat-shaped phantasm arrived and started talking in the voice of Hogwarts's deputy headmistress.

“Amelia, I have just received a disturbing letter from a student’s parents.  Apparently, she was thinking of asking for a targeted spell but decided against it since the worry was supposed to be in London, and she suspects the wards at Hogwarts won’t let him in.  And, she didn't want to give the impression that she was planning on hunting him down.  Amelia, she wants a spell for dealing with, and I quote, ‘killer animated redheaded dolls possessed by serial killing psychotic spirits’.  What in the name of Merlin is going on in London?”

Amelia dropped the paper she was holding and ran to her office door.  An amplification charm projected her voice throughout the building. "Aurors!" she barked as she opened the door.  “Gear up and assemble!  We’ve got a situation!”
> Chapter 35: Mistaken Species
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The throne room in Canterlot Castle was resplendent in its full glory. The workers in the palace took pride in their work. No pony could honestly claim to find any scorch marks, even though it was only a few days after the incident. The melted marble had been removed and replaced with fresh slabs. Tapestries, already rotated on a monthly basis, had been replaced a little ahead of schedule. Luckily, thrones had been a common gift over the centuries, and new artists were always vying to be the creator of the next seat of power. In the same manner that a house full of computer geeks could throw together a working, just slightly less than top of the line, computer from the spare parts lying around, so too, in a remarkably short time, could the palace staff cobble together a breathtaking throne room from long-forgotten items gathering dust in storage.

So Celestia sat on her throne from new old stock, and she saw to the ponies who had been dismissed so rudely the prior evening. Unfortunately, the current petitioner was making the princess wonder whether the noblemare were really just that stupid or whether she just assumed Celestia was. The mare’s title for her proposal, “The Fair Access Civic Renovation Project”, could not have been any more misleading. The highborn wanted the city to expropriate several blocks of affordable housing, which she considered an eyesore, and convert them into a garden with restricted admittance. Needless to say, the ponies being displaced would not meet the requirements for the access list.

Celestia was just about to issue a mild reprimand and firmly reject the project when her sister stepped out of the shadows of an alcove, where she had been observing the exhibition.

“Sister,” Luna said proudly, walking up to claim her seat, the throne next to her sibling’s, “if thou wouldst not mind allowing us to handle this.”

Wondering why Luna was not sleeping, Celestia nodded her approval.

Turning, to the now-shaking noblemare, Luna declaimed, “Inner Radiance, thou didst propose this very injustice to us during Night Court and were rightfully chastised. Now we see that thou doest attempt the same deception on our sister. Very well, the city shall have its new garden, the site shall be where your estate in the south district now stands. No great burden, since thou hast another not far away. Thou art evicted without recourse or repayment, as thou would have us do to the victims of your scheme.”

“But that’s my home!” Inner Radiance wailed.

“It was,” Luna acknowledged.

“But, you can’t!” Inner sobbed, looking, with begging eyes, toward Celestia.

“We just did,” Luna stated as Inner found no mercy from the monarch of the day. “Thine insult to ponykind and thine disregard of ponies less fortunate shall cost you on this day.”

“That was a touch more severe than what I had planned,” Celestia noted as Inner fled the throne room, trailed by several other ponies who decided now was not a good time to petition the throne.

“We were lenient before,” Luna said, noting the arrival of a squadron of pegasi who were ignoring the line and flying straight for the thrones. “It would seem that it only encouraged her to try another route.”

“Mmm,” Celestia acknowledged, before focusing her attention on the new arrivals, who touched down in unison. “Sky Sunder,” she said, greeting the elderly pegasus at the front of the formation, “it’s been too long. Welcome back to Canterlot.”

There was some muttering by the waiting ponies, but none raised any objections. Everypony could plainly see that the massed pegasi were far from happy.

“Princess Celestia, Princess Luna,” the old blue mare bowed as best as her arthritic, wrinkled knees allowed, her snow-white mane falling forward slightly, “where is he? Where is Harry Potter?”





Ron looked around his well-occupied sitting room and said, “You know, I should probably be looking for Scabbers instead of goofing around like this. He’s gotten out before and always shows up after a couple days. It’s not like him to be gone for so long.”

“Quit stalling and pony up,” one of the third-year girls told him firmly. “It’s your turn.”

Ron shuffled his feet and tried a new approach. “I don’t exactly want to be held up by my bottom,” he complained.

“Magah is stuck to the floor.” Katie Bell pointed at the still-struggling woman. “She’s none too happy about it either.”

“I don’t want her to hurt herself,” Ron said. “Maybe we should hold off for when she’s asleep or something.”

“Ron,” Fred said, “Gryffindors charge forward.”

“I just really don’t want to be pink!” Ron confessed. “Can’t this wait until after we figure out how to make me not pink?”

“Hey!” Dean protested.

‘Pink is a good color,” Sweetie Belle insisted.

“Pink is my new obsession,” a fifth-year girl mentioned. “It’s not even a question.”

"Pink is my favorite crayon,” a muggleborn girl added.

“You’d look good in pink,” Parvati asserted.

All the girls voice their approval for a pink pony while the boys looked on in pity.

“Besides,” Harry said, “what are the odds that you’ll turn up pink too?”

The color expert stated, “Actually, Dean’s fuchsia.”

“He’s pink!” Ron exclaimed. “I don’t know what the odds are, but they’re not nearly good enough.”

“Ah can’t believe y'all are having a fit over being pink,” Apple Bloom groused.

“It’s a guy thing,” Ron said.

“Well, at least the pink is better visually,” a second-year girl noted.

“Get on with it!” a fourth-year girl yelled.

“Yes, get on with it!” the rest of the females echoed.

“All right, all right,” Ron said, “hold your horses.”

“I’d rather hold a cute pink pony,” Terisa said, still stroking Dean while leering at Ron. "But, a fuchsia one will do just fine."

Ron gulped, screwed his eyes shut, and changed.

“Aaaaaaaaa!’ Magah wailed as she unsuccessfully tried to stand and reach the newest pony.

Percy leaned over and petted her. “Now now girl, calm down. You’ll be allowed to see them once you learn not to pick them up by their tails.”

Magah responded by giving him a quizzical look that clearly asked why he had touched her like that.

“Well,” George said, “you’re not pink.”

“In fact,” Fred added, nodding, “I think you’re the same shade of yellow as Apple Bloom.”

“All you need is a bow; then, we wouldn’t be able to tell you two apart.” George concluded.

“His hair is darker,” Lavender observed.

“Let’s compare.” Fay commanded, “Bloom, you're next.”

“Oh, all right,” Apple Bloom said and shifted where she stood. The little pony then trotted right over and held a forehoof up next to Ron. “Yeah, that thar is almost an exact match.”

“Are we positive those two weren’t separated at birth?” one of the older boys asked.





The dark walnut paneling in the manor's study reflected its occupant's mood. Alice was not moping around. She just lacked any concrete course of action. What’s more, she was definitely not sulking, despite not getting as far as she would have liked with Discord. At least she had managed to get him to change out of his overused suit. Most importantly, she was not bitter. Fluttershy did not have him locked down yet; Alice just needed to up her game. After all, the other woman couldn’t be perfect; there had to be ways that Alice could outshine her. She was not lying to herself.

With effort, she once again reminded herself that Fluttershy had been on the field first, and, if anyone were poaching, it was Alice. Once again, the thought brought her no comfort, nor did it lessen her craving for the man.

Alice listlessly wandered down the hallway with no goal in mind. Ignoring her surroundings, she berated herself. All of her life, she had essentially ignored the male half of the population. Now that she had accomplished her life’s goal, the normal biological desires had struck with a vengeance. She now had every possession that she had ever imagined she wanted, only to find that her previous imagination had been lacking. It had overlooked the most important ambition.

Discord was powerful. Discord was handsome. Discord was funny. Discord was loving, as evidenced by his preoccupation with caring for the children. Discord would make an exceptional father. Sadly, Discord wasn’t Alice’s, at least not yet. It was beginning to look like she really would have to share.

A particular array of whirring and clicking drew Alice from her thoughts and she looked up in time to see an object land on chest of drawers situated in the hallway. Suddenly curious, Alice drew her wand and crept forward to investigate. The object turned out to be an owl. Well, at least it looked like and owl, an owl made of brass. There were more whirs and clicks as the clockwork bird offered a leg. Alice saw that it bore a letter, just like a living owl would.

With some hesitation, Alice retrieved the letter and checked it for curses. Meanwhile, the automaton spread its impossible wings and took flight, disappearing down the hallway.

With a small frown, Alice opened the letter and read.

Foolish mortal, Fluttershy is not competition. Speak with her.

Euridice





“Let’s see,” Angelina said, petting Hermione in her lap, “so far we have three normal ponies, two pegasi, and a unicorn.”

“Earth ponies,” Apple Bloom spoke up; she was being pampered in the lap of an older girl to whom she had yet to be introduced. “We're called earth ponies.”

“Okay three earth ponies then.” Fay nodded. “Ginny, you're next.”

“Huh?” Ginny looked up from where she was running her fingers through Harry’s little feathers. The colt just sat there with his tongue hanging out and his eyes barely open.

“Let someone else cuddle Harry and get over here and change,” Fay reiterated.

“Can’t I be last?” Ginny whined.

“Let the rest of us have a go at Harry,” one of the older girls said, holding out her hands.

Ginny pouted, but handed Harry over. She shuffled over to the center of the room and just shrank.

“I’ll never get over seeing that,” a fifth-year boy commented as Magah squealed and tried to stand up again.

“Add another unicorn to the list,” Terisa commented as Dean snored softly in her lap.

“She’s the first one of us who’s hair color doesn’t match their mane color,” Neville noted.

“She looks like a miniature Big Mac.” Sweetie exclaimed.

“She looks like a hamburger?” Seamus questioned.

“A what?” Scootaloo and several others asked.

“There’s a type of muggle restaurant that sells a burger with that name,” an older muggleborn student offered.

“Oh,” Apple Bloom said. “No, Big Mac is mah big brother. It’s actually short for Big Macintosh.”

“Your family has a serious apple obsession,” someone suggested.

“Yup,” Apple Bloom said proudly

“Aaaaaaaa!” Magah screamed loudly, trying to reach for Ginny.

“Calm down Magah,” Ginny said, trotting up to the transfigured unicorn but stopping just outside her reach. “You need to keep it down.”

“Coooo?” Magah commented still stretching toward Ginny.

Sighing, Ginny walked into range. “Gently,” she said. “Gentleeeee.” Magah snatched Ginny up and deposited the small pony onto her lap just like the other girls were doing.

“I can’t help but think that this is incredibly ironic and backwards,” Percy said, carefully watching Magah paw at his sister.

“Patil,” Fay announced, “you're next.”





Within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, there was one place other than the library that was redolent with knowledge. The office wasn’t dirty, so much as cluttered. Despite the apparent lack of organization, there wasn’t even a speck of dust in the whole room. "Occupied" would would have been a better description. Every available flat surface was playing host to a jumbled pile of books. The three overworked bookshelves had long ago reached their limits despite all of the expansion charms employed. The chamber practically shouted, "Here be the abode of a Ravenclaw", which was appropriate, since the office belonged to one Filius Flitwick. Let it be known, that he wasn’t the head of Ravenclaw on the merits of his charm alone. His charms, on the other hand . . .

The diminutive man stood in front of his fireplace and watched the green flames expectantly. It wasn’t long before his patience was rewarded by the arrival of a long pair of legs. Looking up, he confirmed that they were attached to a lovely lady with flowing blonde hair. The mere sight of her caused lust to bubble through his entire being. He had to struggle to maintain coherent thoughts that didn’t include what he wanted to do with her. The yearning to run his hands all over her body and start licking monopolized his thought process.

“Paola,” Flitwick said, his mouth watering at the sight of her, “would you mind toning it down? It’s getting hard to think over here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Filius,” the vision of heaven said with a small frown. “I always lose control of my allure whenever I travel by floo.” Her accent wasn’t easily described, but she didn’t sound British.

“Quite all right,” Filius said, leading her to a small table set with tea for two, “but I’m afraid that I will require a minute or two to recover before I’m useful enough for intelligent conversation.”

“I must say,” Paola said, sitting in one of the chairs, “your discipline is most commendable. I’ve been molested more than once after stepping out of the floo. I would not have held it against you, if you had taken a sample, but I am grateful that it did not come to pass.”

Red infused Filius’ face. “I’m ashamed to admit the thought had crossed my mind.”

“And yet, you did not act on the impulse.” She smiled, still beautiful, but no longer so overwhelming. “It speaks well toward your character.”

“Not that I’m not overjoyed to see you, Paola,” Flitwick said changing the subject, “but I am surprised that you would decide to make this delivery in person.”

“How could I not come?” Paola flashed a pout that still took his breath away. “Your request can only mean that you have one of ours in your class, one so young as to have yet to experience her first allure release. Since we know of no families currently living on the isles, this means she is a lost child and will be in need of guidance.”

“Ah,” Flitwick said, “I can see how you would come to that conclusion. It is incorrect, however.”

Paola smiled again, this time predatorially. “Oh really? I fail to see how that could be, unless they started making wands from human hair.”





“These two could be twins as well,” Katie Bell said holding Parvati up close to Harry. “We got two blue pegasi here with black manes.”

“Nah,” the resident color expert said and pointed her hand at Harry, “he’s more of a royal blue where she’s clearly navy. Notice how his fur shifts closer to purple than hers does?”

“And she’s bigger than him,” Fred noted.

“Harry, mate, you need to put on some serious ounces there,” George agreed.

Parvati wiggled in Katie’s hands. “You know, I’m not a stuffed animal.”

Katie giggled and brought her close for a hug. "Well, you’re not a tree either, much too cuddly.”

“Um,” one of the third-year boys asked, observing the distribution of the colorful furry first-years, “why are the girls hogging all the ponies?”

“Were you going to try and take one away from them?” his friend asked.

“No,” he admitted, “I like having my arms attached.”

“Well then, stupid question.”

“Okay,” Fay said, taking charge once more, “Scootaloo, you’re up.”

“I can’t.” Scootaloo said, “I’m stuck for another week.”

“Really?” a second-year boy said, “or are you just being chicken.”

“I am NOT a chicken!” Scootaloo all but screeched, suddenly feathers sprouted from the boy in question and soon he was a mass of white fluffiness.

“Oooo, Finite,” the seventh-year male prefect said, waving his wand to cancel the effect as he descended the stairs into the trunk. “Impressive accidental magic there.”

“Calm down Scoot.” Fay said, “If you can’t change, you can’t change."

Downcast, Scootaloo looked toward her formerly feathered classmate. "I'm sorry. If I change now, I might permanently cripple my wings." The second-year tentatively laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Fay coughed nervously before she continued. "Well, then, we’ll just move on to Sweetie.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Hermione piped up. “Magah is likely to have a fit. Let’s do Sweetie later when we have some privacy, fewer people to trample that way.”

“Okay,” Fay huffed, “then Neville.”

As Neville made his way to the center of the room, Ron let out an angry growl. “Get that thing out of my hair.”

“Mah bow!” Apple Bloom gasped, checking her mane with a hoof only to find her bow gone.

“Now that is just uncanny,” the girl holding Ron said. “We just need a way to make his hair brighter and he’d be a dead ringer.”

“The pink thing in my hair needs to go,” Ron emphasized. “Now.”

“But it looks good there,” the color expert opined. “It really complements your color palette.”

Frustrated, Ron reared up, threw his head back, opened his mouth wide and flailed his front hooves dramatically. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Stunned silence met his outburst, every pair of eyes resting on his unexpected display. The seconds ticked by until one girl said, “That was beyond cute.”

“Does anyone have a camera?” another girl asked hopefully.

“Could you do that again?” the girl holding him asked as she fluffed the bow in his hair.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” Apparently, he could.





With suspicious eyes, Rarity studied the latest resident of her home. She hadn’t been within five feet of him since the day he had arrived, and she had chosen today to investigate further. Deceptively, George sat there and did nothing. Twenty minutes of solitary observation had yielded nothing. Admittedly, he was very good, but she wasn’t fooled. She knew it was just an act; she could practically feel his hunger.

The instructions had claimed that each box etched on his brass plate provided access to a separate chamber. The third one was where he kept the ponies he happened to consume. That one was to be avoided at all costs. Square four was supposed to control access to a clothes storage closet. Rarity very much wanted to investigate that claim, but first, she needed backup. And maybe a sledgehammer, just to be safe.

“You’re not still afraid of him, are you?” a voice next to her suddenly asked.

“Eeeeeek!”

Slightly dazed, Rarity found that she was living proof, that even though unicorns couldn’t stick to ceilings with their hooves, they were still capable of hanging around. Using her forelegs, she tried to wrench  her horn free from where it had become lodged between two ceiling planks. After a minute of fruitless effort, she said, “Pinkie, be a dear and fetch me the crowbar from the back room.”

“Okie dokie, lokie.” The sounds of a mare pronking away could be heard.

“This is so undignified.” Rarity muttered, crossed her forelegs and dangled.





“Longbottom,” the color expert scolded, holding up the newest earth pony, “with the wide array of vibrant colors available how could you possibly come out as such a boring tan?”

“Sorry.” Neville said sarcastically, “I was trying for purple.”

“I think he looks perfectly splendid.” Sweetie reached out to claim her friend. “Not everypony ends up being colorful.”

“He just looks so,” Katie Bell said thoughtfully, “normal, compared to the rest of you, what, with miss phosphorescent over there.”

“I’m sure I won’t actually glow in the dark,” Hermione commented.

“Don’t get me wrong,” the color expert protested. “He’s still cute! I was just hoping for another pink pony.”

“What is with you girls and pink?” Ron whined.

“Pink, it’s like red but not quite,” Angelina informed everyone.

“Okay, that’s it!” Scootaloo barked. “I’m calling for a pink time-out here.”

Fay laughed softly. “That just leaves you Finnigan. Ready to try your luck and see what color you end up?”

Seamus strutted into the center of the room. “I’m hoping for red and black,” he said confidently.

“I’m thinking lime green, myself,” Percy commented as he sat on the floor next to Magah. making sure she wasn’t too rough with Ginny. He still couldn't get over the irony of the role reversal as Magah stroked Ginny on her lap.

“Two sickles on sunny yellow,” one girl chirped up.

“My money's on jasmine,” another girl countered.

“Teal,” a third offered.

“Tangerine,” said a second-year.

“Salmon,” countered Katie.

“Copper,” proposed the eldest.

“Okay okay.” Seamus groaned. “Now you girls are just being silly. I’m pretty sure I heard a flower, a fish, and a fruit in there.”

Terisa giggled and said, “Don’t keep us waiting; show us your colors.”

With a sigh, Seamus shrunk.

“Again, with the boring,” the color expert complained. “Ivory white with a sandy brown mane just doesn’t live up to the hype. At least you’re a unicorn.” Taking advantage of a moment's hesitation by the others, she snatched up the colt and cuddled him. "And, you're still cute!"





“Rarity!” The white unicorn heard her front door open followed by the sound of multiple ponies entering. “Rarity! Something new has come . . . up,” Rainbow Dash called out, only to trail off at the end of the sentence.

“Um.” Rarity heard Applejack speak as the unicorn was forced to look at the wall opposite the entrance. “Yer horn's stuck in the ceiling. That musta been Equestria's largest hammer.”

“The crusaders are in a different dimension,” Twilight said, before asking the obvious question. “So, Discord or Pinky?”

“Pinky,” Rarity sighed. “She went in the back to look for a crowbar.”

“Mwhahahahahaha,” Rainbow Dash cackled. There was a thump as she connected with the floor.

Twilight caught Rarity in her magical grasp and pried the boards away. “Can we please have a boring day? We are so overdue for a boring day.”

“Thank you darling,” Rarity said gratefully. “I have such a crick in my neck.”

“Found it!” Pinky sing-songed as she bounced into the room, crowbar in her mouth. She stopped when she noticed that Rarity had already been transferred to the ground. She spat the tool out onto her forehoof and looked at it. Then, with a shrug, she tossed it over her shoulder.

*crash* “Mrrrroooooow!”

Looking back the way, she had come, Pinky apologized, “Oops, sorry Opal.”





The young man appeared to be on a mission. He was just shy of nineteen, not yet old enough to be taken seriously. That was all right with him; he wasn’t trying to stand out. The exact opposite was true. He didn’t want anyone to comment on the fact that he had been loitering, leaning on the lamp post, for a couple hours now. Staking out a record store just didn’t seem a normal thing to do. He had thought the same thing himself several times, and had wandered away, only to force himself to come back.

Despite the setbacks, his vigil had borne fruit. There had been a number of individuals who had walked past the record store and had not continued to cross in front of the book store, and vice versa. More importantly, people who absolutely hadn’t been there before had walked by as well. He had to fight with his brain to acknowledge the occurrence. Now, he was just waiting for the right somebody to appear so that he could make his move.

Soon a young woman, his own age, put in an appearance. She was easily out of his league, but he wasn’t there to try his luck with talking to women. Nervously, he approached her and said hello.

“Hello,” she replied, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, “but did you just leave the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Yes,” she said, losing some her wariness.

“Could I impose on you for some help?” he asked. “I can’t see it myself, and I’d like to visit Diagon Alley.”

“Oh,” she said smiling shyly, “muggle with magical family are you then? Sure, I can take the time to show you the way.” With that she reached out and took his hand in hers.

With that act, he considered his day a success, even before the pub filled his vision.





The ghost floated down into the trunk and observed a strange gathering. All about the room, girls sat with remarkably life-like stuffed toys as the boys looked on with amusement, and more than a little envy. Grinning at the sight, she drifted over to individual she sought.

“Fay Dunbar,” the ghost said formally, “Professor Flitwick has sent me to inform you that he requires the presence of the student Sweetie Belle. He also wanted me to inform you that both Harry Potter and Scoot Aloo are to be sent to the infirmary immediately at the request of the school nurse.”

“Thank you, Grey Lady,” Fay said with a small curtsey. “I’ll see them along right away.”

“Your prompt compliance is appreciated,” the ghost said and faded from sight.

“You heard her,” Fay said turning to the crowd. “Potter, Aloo, off to see Madam Pomfrey. Belle, head to Flitwick’s office.”





The empty nest reverberated with the sound of a familiar voice as the flames in the fireplace turned green. “Molly are you there?”

“Yes Arthur,” Molly called, rushing into the house. She had been outside with her guest, watching the young witch put her new broom through its paces. “Why did they call you into the office on a Saturday?”

“Molly,” Arthur said through the floo at a lower volume, “we’ve got a real mess here. I won’t be making supper at this rate. Some thug has transferred his soul into a muggle doll and has been running around killing innocents. Worse, the muggles are aware of him.”

“That’s horrible,” Molly gasped, sure that the statute of secrecy was at risk.

“Luckily, someone caught the beginning of this debacle before it got out of hand,” Arthur continued. “All the muggles insist that the doll is a result of puppeteering and camera angles. Whoever came up with that nonsense has a place waiting for him with the Muggle-worthy Excuse Committee. They’ve already stated that they’ll hire him forthwith, if he just makes himself known.”

“What about the doll?” Molly asked. “Have you tracked it down?”

“No, but several muggles have reported seeing him around London.” Arthur sighed. “He seems to prefer muggle shopping centers. Apparently, he’s frightened a large number of people and terrified more than a few children. The auror are running all over the place trying to collect information without being too intrusive. The thing is suspected in over a dozen murders and seems to favor adults with close proximity to children.”

“Shouldn’t you be letting the aurors hunt it down?” Molly continued worriedly.

“Molly, this thing is, by its very definition, a misuse of muggle artifacts. I’m afraid I’m going to be here for the long haul.” Arthur sighed. “He’s good at hiding and covering his tracks. This is going to take some time.”

“You be careful Arthur Weasley,” Molly admonished her husband. “I will not be responsible for telling our children that their father was killed by a child’s doll.”

“Don’t worry, Molly,” Arthur said with a measure of reassurance. “We're sticking to groups of three. After we flush him out, the rest will be child’s play.”
> Chapter 36: Education Happens
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Goblins were a proud and arrogant people, supremely confident in their inherent superiority.  Only one thing held dominion over them, a Goblin Lord.  To their eternal shame, from time immemorial, that title had been held only by creatures they held in utter contempt, humans.

Much as they wanted to forget this uncomfortable fact, they were honor-bound to be able to meet a Goblin Lord's every need at a moment's notice, as was evidenced by the exclusive lounge located far underground, heartbeats away from Overseer's apartment.  Despite its subterranean setting, this did not have the dim, cool, damp, and drafty environment favored by goblins.  Instead, it was warm, well-lit, and inviting.  The furnishings were scaled for an adult human.  Thick tan carpeting provided respite from hard stone floors.  Cozy chairs were arranged around a burnished walnut coffee table in one side of the room, while a tea table with its taller chairs were prominent in another.  The walls reflected the true nature of the room; they were made of cut stone, carved with intricate patterns that screamed, "This is for someone important!"

Currently, the room had only one occupant.  She had requested some time alone.  Her hosts had been only too happy to comply and had swiftly made the room available.  She sat on the plush carpet in the center of the room with her knees drawn up to her chest, rocking slowly.

Elisa Bates was acutely grateful for the accommodation.  She needed time away from the insanity that her life had become.  Being away from all of the activity was essential.  It allowed her to have her much-needed nervous breakdown in private.

Elisa was by no means a weak woman.  She couldn’t afford to be; life had not been kind.  Her parents had been unbearably strict, ultra-orthodox in their religion.  Their dogma had been the impetus for all their actions and had been the bane of Elisa's upbringing.  Her parents had sequestered her to the point of isolation, lest she be exposed to anyone or anything that might tempt her away from their god.  Her only contact outside her family had been with the children and families of other true believers.

Her parents' painstaking indoctrination had left her woefully unprepared for the reality that lay beyond the confines of her home.  Driven by basic curiosity, she had accepted an invitation to a party from one of her few friends.  After her curfew, she had slipped out of her house and joined her friend.  For the first time in her life, she defied her parents.

She was nearly overcome by the sheer excitement of trying something new, something forbidden.  As she followed her friend to the gathering, she had to stop more than once to let the nausea from her apprehension die down.  The sights and sounds of the party were nearly overwhelming.  There, she had her first, and only, alcoholic drink.  She did not remember anything that happened after that.

The next morning, Elisa had awakened with her friend on one of the beds.  Both of them were groggy, feeling like their heads had been stuffed full of cotton.  Both were sore in places that they were not previously aware could be sore.  Fearing the wrath of their parents, they had snuck back to their homes and did their best to forget the whole episode.  Elisa might even have succeeded if she weren't pregnant.

Elisa’s parents had been furious.  Their daughter had committed an unpardonable sin.  There was no place in their religion for someone who had committed such a heinous act.  There was no place in their religion for someone who associated with such a sinner.  There was no place in their hearts for a daughter they had failed to prepare for the realities of life.

Elisa was cast out. Disowned, excommunicated, shunned, she was left to fend for herself with only the clothes on her back.  Thrice-cursed, thrice-damned, she would not even be acknowledged by any true believer.  For that, Elisa was eternally grateful.

Her first night of independence was the hardest.  Nothing in her upbringing had prepared her for this.  Completely alone, she was sorely tempted to end in all; however, she could not bring herself to end the life of the innocent that she bore.  Tears flowing, she sat on a public bench and prayed.  That was how Craig found her.

Craig had taken her into his modest home and asked for nothing in return.  Craig had taught her the skills she would need to survive in the urban jungle.  Craig had helped her secure financial aid for her new family.  Craig had been there when Abagail was born.  Craig had pushed Elisa to finish her schooling.  Craig had cared for Elisa as if she were his own daughter.  Craig had metastasized adenocarcinoma.  Craig had only months to live.

In the hospital, Elisa had let him know how much he meant to her, how much he meant to Abagail.  She called him the greatest Christian she had ever known.  Craig had laughed and said he wasn’t religious.  He told her he had taken her in because it was the right thing to do.

Elisa’s life had not been easy.  She had weathered many hardships.  She had raised her daughter alone.  In all that time, she had stood strong and persevered.  However, everyone has a breaking point.  The stress levels had been constantly rising.  A sleepless night of worry had been followed by the discovery that both magic and goblins were real.  Overnight she had gone from being a nobody to having goblins practically throwing themselves on the floor to please her daughter and her.  The sight of the massive dragon in front of her new vault had been the final straw.  Elisa sat on the plush carpet in the center of the room with her knees drawn up to her chest, slowly rocking herself back to sanity.





For the second weekend in a row, Sweetie Belle let dread fill her as she made her way to the office of a head of house.  Thankfully, she didn’t think she was in trouble, but she desperately hoped that she wasn't going to be saddled with another weird obligation like a Wizengamot seat.  Seriously, it was Apple Bloom’s turn for something strange to happen.

It wasn’t long before she was knocking on the door to the office of the Head of Ravenclaw.

“Come in,” a voice called out.  Curiously, it wasn’t the expected cheerful banter of her charms professor; rather, it was a female's beckoning.

Inquisitiveness claimed Sweetie as she opened the door and dodged a leaning pile of books on the table next to the door. “You wanted to see me?” she asked, spying Professor Flitwick sitting at a small tea table with a beautiful blonde woman.

“Yes,” the small professor said, not taking his eyes off his companion.  “It’s time to address your difficulties focusing through your wand.  This is Paola Quint, and she has brought a training device to aid you in overcoming your minor handicap.”

“Hello, Miss Quint.”  Sweetie Belle acknowledged the woman politely with a small curtsey.  “Thank you for helping me.”

“Your hair really is purple and pink,” Paola said, her voice sounding just a little dreamy.  “They had mentioned that in the papers, but I hadn’t truly dwelt on it before.”

“Yes,” Sweetie agreed, running a hand subconsciously through her mane.

“My apologies,” Paola said, moving on to business.  “This is going to be a much more practical meeting than I first intended.  You see, even though most know of the Veela’s allure, the true extent of its reach is kept a close secret.”

Sweetie tilted her head and wondered why this woman was sharing secrets with her after just meeting.

“Paola, I don’t think you want . . .” Professor Flitwick started, but cut off when a small pulse of magic saturated the room.  He stopped talking and drooled slightly as he continued to stare at Paola.

Observing Sweetie’s reaction, Paola said with a grimace, “You felt that?  Good.  That was Début de la Liaison, something I have no control over.”

“What did you do to him?” Sweetie demanded, taking a half step backwards and settling into an awkward defensive posture.

Paola sighed.  “You are too young for this, but our allure isn’t just for charming males.  It is constantly looking for a Veela’s proper match.  When she finds him, the Veela loses control of her allure in the presence of that male, the pulses forcing the two to get closer.”  With shaking hands, she reached for her teacup.  “It is not as common as you might think, but it is inevitable once started.”

Sweetie shot a worried glance toward her charms teacher.

“The Début de la Liaison is not fully understood,” Paola continued.  “It strikes without warning.  Sometimes a complete stranger, sometimes an old friend.  The good news is that love always comes from it, if natural.  The bad news is that there is a charm that wizards can cast to artificially start the process.  We have done all that is possible to remove the charm from the minds of men.”

Sweetie watched Professor Flitwick shake his head and reassert himself with effort.  “Paola, you probably don’t want to share your people’s secrets.  Miss Belle is not a Veela.”

“What’s a Veela?” Sweetie asked, confusion flitting across her eyes.  “You’ve mentioned them several times.”

“Really?”  Paola chuckled mirthlessly.  “Tell me child, what is your wand core made of?”

“Unicorn hair,” Sweetie Belle stated without pause.

“What?” Paola asked in bewilderment.   “Filius, why did you ask to borrow the correcteur de flux?  It cannot possibly help in this case.”

With a goofy smile on his face, Flitwick said, “Miss Belle, it would be best if you show Paola your true form.  I’m sure she will keep your secret.”

“Okay.”

Paola squealed loudly, but managed to make herself keep her seat.  Tempted beyond the breaking point, the same could not be said of Professor Flitwick as he marveled at the softness of Sweetie Belle's mane.





In Canterlot Castle, the throne room had been cleared of everypony, except the princesses, their guard, and the squadron of pegasi.  The process had taken far too long for Sky Sunder's sensibilities, leaving the old pegasus trembling with nervous energy over the delay.  One of the nobles just wouldn’t take the hint and had refused to surrender her place in line for the second day running.  It took the princesses promising to speak with her privately later to convince the mare to leave.

“Where is he?  Where is Harry Potter?” Sky Sunder repeated once the court had been cleared.

“Sky Sunder,” Celestia said gently, “it’s not as simple as it first appears.”

Sky Sunder snorted and stamped a forehoof.  “I must respectfully disagree, Princess Celestia, but it is that simple.  Nopony treats a pegasus colt like that.  Nopony treats any colt like that!  We are here primarily to see that the colt is cared for, something we are sure that you’ll excel at, but we want to give our input nonetheless.  Secondly, we are here for the name of the walking dead pony.  The report stated that the family had been charmed to act the way it did.  There is no acceptable justification, and we claim our right to punish the villain.”

“We are most impressed by thine resolve,” Luna said approvingly.  “However, you cannot claim the right of punishment, for Harry Potter was not born a pegasus.  He had been given that attribute by none other than Discord himself.”

“He is a pegasus now,” Sky Sunder said firmly.  “We will not abandon our rights just because of an accident of birth.  The colt’s wellbeing is of the utmost importance.”  A murmur of affirmation rolled through the squadron.

“Your dedication is laudable.”  Celestia nodded.  “And, your counsel is most welcome.  You should know that another government is involved, and they are not nearby.  Nonetheless, we will share with you what we know.”





“I’m getting sick of hospitals,” Harry grumbled as he and Scootaloo entered the infirmary.

“I hear you,” Scootaloo agreed.  “I haven’t been in one this much since the last time I ran my scooter through a wall.”

“Hello, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said upon seeing the school nurse.

“Hello,” Scootaloo echoed.  “Thanks again for fixing my wings.”

Taken off guard, Madam Pomfrey looked between the two students and said, "He knows?”

“Knows what?” Scootaloo scratched her head.

“I think she was talking about you being a pegasus,” Harry suggested.

“I see.”  Madam Pomfrey went over to a cabinet and pulled a potion flask out.   “Well Mr. Potter I’ve been adding some nutrients to your supper, supper that you did not partake in last night, I might add.  You should not be skipping meals.”

“I ate supper,” Harry protested, “with the rest of my friends.”

“I was hoping that was the case,” the nurse said, pouring a milky white liquid that Scootaloo recognized.  “Still, drink this.”

Harry accepted the cup and quickly downed the potion.  When he was done, Madam Pomfrey said, “You may leave.  I’ll just be giving Miss Aloo a quick checkup to see if there have been any complications.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Harry said.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a nod then said, “That would be up to Miss Aloo.  She may not want you here.”

“I don’t mind.” Scootaloo said, inviting Harry's presence.

“Right then,” Madam Pomfrey said after scrutinizing the girl, “onto the exam table with you, then.”

Scootaloo hopped to comply.  Without another word, Madam Pomfrey began scanning the child with her wand.  After a minute she said, “All seems well.  Please remove your necklace now.”

“Actually, I’m not wearing it anymore.”  Scootaloo held up her hand to show off her ring.  “Discord has given us an upgrade.  Also, I can’t change right now; he stuck me in human form for two weeks.”

“He did now?” the nurse asked.  “When did he do that, and why?”

Scootaloo wilted and said, “Right after I woke up, he said that there were some imprettysessions that would work themselves out if I didn’t try flying for a week.  Then he went and locked me for two whole weeks.”

Harry corrected, "Imperfections."

“I see,” Madam Pomfrey said with an approving nod.  “Better safe than sorry. I would like to talk to him if at all possible.  Do you know when he plans to visit next?”





Twilight gratefully accepted the missive from the owl who had flown from an orthogonal dimension into the epicenter of the destruction in George's living room.  “Thank you very much.” she said to the owl as she levitated the letter from Professor McGonagall.  “Here’s a couple owl treats, and would you like some water or maybe some tea?”

The owl slaked its thirst before returning in the same manner as it had arrived.

The Element Bearers had arranged the surviving furniture around the sphere of destruction in the living room. Ceiling and floor had been hastily buttressed with magically-reinforced planks, and the mares now sat facing each other, as if gathered around a bonfire.

“Ah hope it’s good news,” Applejack said from where she fidgeted impatiently on a couch.

“I’m hoping this whole debacle is just a misunderstanding,” Rarity added.

Rainbow Dash gnawed on a pillow as she watched Twilight read the letter.

“Well,” Twilight said, putting the paper down, “the doll is in a city that’s a full day’s train ride from the school, and the professor’s reinforced the wards specifically intended to stop possessed items.  Scootaloo was right; the doll will not be able to make it into the castle.”

“So, it’s real then?”  Applejack gritted her teeth.

“Looks like it,” Twilight admitted, “but it’s nowhere near the girls.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Rainbow Dash complained.  “Maybe we should have them come home until that monster's caught.”

“Rainbow, darling,” Rarity said comfortingly, “we live next to a forest full of monstrosities that would make the doll seem like a toy.  We cannot remove all dangers, no matter how hard we try.”

Rainbow Dash’s only response was to chew harder on her pillow.

“Since we're just sitting around being worried, worried, sad-lipped ponies,” Pinkie said as she pronked back into the room, “I’ve warmed up the hot tub.  We can go worry there; it’s big enough for everypony.”

“George has a hot tub?”  Rarity perked up.

“Yeah, it’s right next to the pool.”  Pinkie nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Pool?” Twilight questioned.

Rainbow pulled the pillow out of her mouth and said, “Yeah, you'll see it after you get past the ice rink.”





The group aurors sat in the stark briefing room and waited for their shift to start.  When they had arrived at headquarters, there had been no one present, except the rookie on floo monitoring duty.  He had said that there was a situation, and someone would be by to brief them soon.  Five minutes after the hour, a senior auror entered the room, looking frazzled.

“Listen up,” he said without any pleasantries.  “We have a major crisis.  A homicidal wizard has transferred his spirit into a child’s doll and is wreaking havoc on the muggles.  He’s been spotted by several and is described as two feet tall, red-headed, with blue eyes and wearing coveralls.  The cover story we are telling the muggles is that he is controlled by a puppeteer.”

“Wait,” Martin Higgins, a muggleborn said, “you mean like the movie?”

“Movie?” the senior asked.

“Yeah, there was a movie about three years back where the villain was a red-headed doll in coveralls.”

“Great,” the senior said, “just great.  We already knew our culprit was comfortable in the muggle world.  Now it seems he got the idea from them in the first place.  What can you tell us about the movie?”

“The bugger can take a lot of damage and still put up a fight,” Martin said.  “They had to shoot him through the heart to stop him.  He’s right sneaky and treacherous, too.  Best to watch your back.”

“That’s it?  Hit him in the heart?”

“And don’t let him get the drop on you.”  Martin nodded.  “If he’s anything like in the movie, he’ll hamstring you in a heartbeat.”

“Right then,” the senior said, “I want this thing found tonight.  It’s only a matter of time before some muggle notices that he’s not on strings.  Listen up for your assigned areas.  You are authorized to use deadly force against him.”





The Gryffindor first-years were in the common room attempting to study, practice, and maybe finish their homework before supper.  They were hampered by multiple requests to cuddle, but Hermione kept laying down the law and putting their noses to the grindstone.  The unintended result was several upperclassmen hanging around their table, tutoring, and hoping that there would still be time for more snuggles.  The transfigured unicorn wandering around the room exploring was barely a blip on their radar in comparison.

Sweetie Bell sat at a tea table with a look of determination on her face.  “Lumos!” she commanded as she pressed her wand against a heavy wooden cube that was inscribed with exquisite runes.  Once again, the hair on her head lit up.  She gave an exasperated sigh.  “Why didn’t you guys tell me that my hair was lighting up instead of my wand?”

“We thought you knew,” Dean explained, focusing on his matchstick.  “How can you not notice your hair is making like a light bulb?”

“I don’t know,” Sweetie Belle growled.  “Maybe because it’s on my head where I can't see it?  I thought the light was coming from somewhere behind me.”

“Is that thar box helping any?” Apple Bloom asked, studying the former matchstick that she had transfigured into a needle.

“Yeah.” Sweetie nodded.  "I can feel where the magic is supposed to go now.  I’m just having problems getting it to go where I want.”

“Lumos.”  Neville tried again, gaining only a pinprick of light at the end of his wand.

“I think it's bigger than last time,” Parvati said encouragingly.

“Wait a minute,” Terisa said, eyeing Neville’s wand.  “That wand looks awfully ratty for something brand new.”

“It was my father’s,” Neville said proudly.  “Gran gave it to me.”

“Oh?” Scootaloo said.  “The wand guy said hand me down wands might not work so well.”

“Yeah,” Ginny agreed.  “He said Ron using Charlie’s old wand was not a good thing.”

“But,” Neville sniffed, “it was my father’s”

"Why don't you let me have a go at it?" asked Seamus, holding out his hand.  The first-year girls dogpiled on him before Neville could respond.

From the bottom of the pile, Seamus offered his wand.  “Here,” he said diplomatically, “try mine, instead.”

Neville looked at the proffered wand for a few seconds before accepting.  “Lumos,” he commanded.  This time, he produced a cricket ball-sized beacon at the end of the wand.

“Woah, not so much power,” Lavender chastised, being the closest to the new spell.

“Nox.”  Neville frowned as he returned the wand to the just-released Seamus.  “I can’t believe my dad’s wand doesn’t like me.”

“May I see it a second?” Terisa asked, holding out her hand.

Holding back tears, Neville handed it over.

“Lumos,” Terisa said confidently.  Her effort was marginally brighter than Neville's.  “I think this wand is burnt out.”

“Try harder.” Neville said desperately.

“I'm already using more than enough for a searchlight-sized lumos; any more power, and it'll pop like a firecracker.”  Terisa shook her head.  “You might as well just put it away for now and transfigure.  I’m sure a good petting will make you feel better.”

Emphatically, Hermione vetoed the suggestion.  “No, he still has nine inches to write for charms class.  We can't count on having enough time on Sunday.”

“Petting will raise his spirits and make the task easier,” Terisa argued.

“Don’t make me take your pony petting privileges away,” Hermione warned.

Terisa pouted.





The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement.  In front of the head table was a sign that something special was going to happen.  The uninitiated would think it was just a plain wooden stool.  Every student, however, recognized it as part of their initiation in Hogwarts, something each of them had mounted on their very first day at Hogwarts.  It most certainly was out of place outside of the start of the school year.

Gesturing toward the small piece of furniture, Professor Snape said, “I know Albus couldn’t make it, with him needing to stay at St. Mungo’s overnight, but shouldn’t Filius be here?”

“He’s busy,” Professor Sprout stated curtly.

“He could make the time to put in an appearance,” Snape insisted.   “For all he knows, he could have a new student in his house.”

“He’s busy,” Sprout repeated, brooking no argument.

“What could he possibly be doing that is so important?”  Snape asked.

“He’s busy,” Sprout said for the third time and then turned away from the potions master.  She was not blushing slightly.

Professor Snape huffed in annoyance as Professor McGonagall stood to gain the attention of the student body.

“Good evening one and all,” she said, with her voice projecting throughout the hall without being overwhelming.  “As you all can see, we have a break in our usual routine.  A name was added to the Book of Acceptance just after the start of the term, and we will be welcoming a new student into our midst.”

Polite clapping wafted through the assembly, and most turned their gaze to the entry doors through which first-years would make their official entrances.  Well, almost everyone turned; Magah was staring at the table wondering where the food was.

“I want you all to make our newest student welcome,” Minerva said, waving her wand to open the doors.  “She’ll be a smidgen behind, but I’m sure that she can easily catch up with the help of her housemates.”

With a creak of ancient wood, a new girl was revealed to all, standing next to Hagrid.  She had long brown hair that fell straight across her shoulders, and her grin seemed to threaten to split her face in two.  As soon as she saw she had everyone’s attention, she began waving and bouncing excitedly, as her grin seemed to grow impossibly larger.

“Hello!” she shouted to the room at large.  “I’m pleased to meet you!  I’m pleased to be here!  Thank you for having me at your school!”

“Never mind,” Snape muttered under his breath.  “Filius doesn’t need to be here; she’s clearly headed for Gryffindor.”

“Abagail Bates,” Professor McGonagall intoned from the head table, “please make your way the stool so that you may be sorted into your house.”

Beaming widely, Abagail bounced down the aisle, darting between tables to shake hands as she went.  Most were glad to return the gesture, but the students highlighted in a venomous green shot her withering glares instead of shaking hands.

“Right,” Abigail said halfway to her goal.   “Which house are you wet blankets?”

“We are of the ancient house of Slytherin,” one of the older girls informed her snootily.

“Well I know what house not to be sorted into, then,” Abagail said and resumed her trek, making sure to make friends at the other three tables as she went.

“Can we just skip the sorting and put her in Gryffindor?” a Ravenclaw boy asked.  “There’s no suspense of any kind here.”

Professor McGonagall hid a chuckle and said, “Miss Bates, we are waiting.”

“Yes Professor,” Abagail said and hurried to her place.  When she was seated, Professor Vector entered the hall carrying a distinctive artifact.

“I didn’t get to do my song,” the hat complained loudly as he was borne to the waiting girl.

“It talks!” Abagail squealed with glee.

“Of course, I talk,” the hat replied.  “Tell them you want a song before your sorted.”

“Okay,” Abagail agreed.  “Everyone, hush, the hat wants to sing for us.”

“Thank you,” the hat said and began to perform.

The students followed Abagail’s command and gave the hat their undivided attention.  About half way through the solo, a pained sound halfway between a shriek and a howl began to accompany the singer.

Alarmed, the students turned to the Gryffindor table where a striking blonde woman clothed in a lime dress was making her displeasure known.  Some would later swear that they could see blood seeping between the fingers she had clamped over her ears.

There were several cries of, “No, Magah!  Bad unicorn!” as the Gryffindor first-years coaxed her back to her seat.

“Well that was a bust,” the hat groaned. Several of the upperclassmen snickered. Ignoring the interruption, the hat continued, “All right, let’s get on with it, then.”

With a shrug, Professor Vector placed the hat on its target.  Two seconds later, the hat screamed a word that surprised no one and Abagail made her way over to see what the deal was with the strange lady sitting with her housemates.





“Have we chosen our first example yet?” a man sitting in a dark room asked of the others, well-shielded from prying eyes and ears.

“Rutter would have been preferred, but she has formidable wards protecting her now.  It would be unwise to find out what Malfoy might have had concealed in his defenses.”

“There are so many fat targets to select from,” another commented.  “It’s hard to make a decision.”

“A pity, this will have no effect on the naming of the next Minister,” said yet another voice.

“Tut tut,” a woman tsked, smoothing her pink dress.  “If the new minister is an undesirable, he or she can be added to the top of the target list.”

“Why are we waiting until after the selection of the next minister?” the first man asked.

“It will give us a better idea on how we should proceed,” the woman in pink said as if speaking to an idiot.  ”And, our plant in the floo department will be working alone on the night of our first strike.”

“They won’t know what hit them,” came a voice backed by a confident sneer.

“Too true.”  The first man gloated, "There is no way they’ll see this coming.”
> Chapter 37: Not So Buried Treasure
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slowly she awoke, content if not fully coherent. For the first time she could remember, she had gone to bed sated. With a wispy smile, she snuggled closer to the source of warmth against which she lay. Wait! Source of warmth? Oh, that’s right; she had gone to bed sandwiched between two other girls, Lavender and Apple if she remembered correctly.

Abagail had expected things to be different where living with magic was concerned. Bathing with every other Gryffindor girl in her year had been surprising, to say the least. Washing each other had brought the level of weirdness up another notch. It had been almost disappointing to sleep in the same bed with everyone else; it completely defeated the purpose of having her own apartment in her own trunk.

Of course, the sleeping arrangements paled in comparison to finding that their dorm room had been converted into a stable, a stable for a unicorn no less, an honest-to-goodness unicorn. Sweetie had a pet unicorn. The strange woman was a unicorn, changed into human form by a magic necklace. If Abagail hadn’t already been sold on the idea of magic, that would have tipped the balance on the spot. The phoenix showing up was overkill.

That’s not to say that her evening had been all rainbows and lollipops. Hermione had insisted that she sit down and cram in a week’s worth of material. After supper Abagail sat down at a corner table in the common room and studied. It was mainly Hermione and Parvati who tutored her, but upperclassmen kept popping in and out to lend their support. She hadn’t even been to her first class yet, and already Abagail had transformed a matchstick into a needle, and she would never need another flashlight again. She could scarcely wait for the morning for the flying lessons that Terisa had promised, but she still couldn't understand what sort of transformation that the sixth-year was waiting for her to perform.

Lazily, Abagail had almost drifted back to sleep when a girl, two bodies over, sat up and stretched. “Time to get up!” Sweetie Belle proclaimed.





Yawning widely, Richard Goodman exited his room, entering the comfortably-appointed common room he shared with Marcy. To his surprise, it wasn’t vacant.

“Good morning, boss,” he said cheerfully to the man sitting on one of the couches. He tried not to wince when he noted that the colors of his employer's clothing looked like dijon mustard locked in mortal combat with its yellow brethren.

“Good morning, Richard,” Discord said as he proudly sported a natty, pinstriped suit in a nauseating brown with gold pinstripes. “I’d like a moment of your time please.”

“Of course.” Richard took a seat on one of the chairs littering the room. “How may I help you?”

“It’s about your primary task,” Discord said bluntly.

“Teaching the children?” Richard asked.

“No, keeping the children safe,” Discord corrected. “It occurs to me that you can’t keep an eye on them if you’re not aware when they leave the castle.”

“First-years aren’t allowed to leave the castle,” Richard reminded him. "The wards prevent unauthorized travel."

“They have a phoenix,” Discord reminded Richard.

“Oh.”

“Not to worry,” Discord continued. “While I don’t want you to curb their rule-breaking tendencies, I do want you to be able to jump in when they run afoul of something they can’t handle. When they leave the castle again, Philomena has agreed to come get you and take you somewhere close and unobtrusive.”

Richard nodded in agreement. Discord was paying him a good deal more than the salary of a tutor; some tasks beyond the basic job description were to be expected.





Furious, he settled into a new nest made of red embroidery floss, tucked away in the back of a drawer in the tiny apartment. Moodily, he reflected on how his plans were more than a little askew. First, the older female had drunk of the potion as well. Appallingly, she had tainted it with salt before consuming it. Now, he was sharing power with two instead of one, and he was getting no feedback from one of the recipients. The massive surplus of mana he had received when the girl had drunk was being rapidly depleted. Soon, he would be worse off than when he had started.

Before then, he needed to act. He had to use what was gained to transfer his essence into a larger vessel, preferably something that did not have a will of its own. Then, he could remove the complication of the older woman. From there, he would just have to wait for the power he shared with his preferred sacrifice to mature. All the while, his true body would be gradually decomposing due to the increased distance between it and his soul. Each day of separation would take a tremendous toll on both his power capacity and his general wellbeing. When that man had thrown the orb that housed his soul, the countdown for his true demise had begun. Filled with grim determination, he was well aware that time was not on his side.





As the familiar farm slept, row on row of silent sentinels bore witness as an individual quietly touched down on the white border fence that stood out starkly in the full moon. Another of his ilk turned to face the sudden intrusion, unblinking. The visitor nervously fluffed himself out before screwing up his courage as he smoothed his feathers. With false bravado, he finally broached the subject that had been bothering him.

“Who,” he stated firmly.

The larger bird stayed still as a statue for a moment before responding with a slow blink. In a disinterested tone, he said, “Hoo.”

Steeling his resolve, the smaller answered emphatically, “Who who.”

“Hoo,” the larger replied in a laconic drawl.

“Who,” the visitor insisted, “who who!”

Large eyes regarded him and his request, before the monotone response finally came. “Hoo.”

Relief filled him as, on muffled wings, he followed his new sensei into the air.





Hermione Granger strolled up the walkway to her house, guiding one of the scariest men she had ever met. After breakfast, Professor McGonagall had sought Harry and her out. Harry had been told that he was to have a couple visitors at noon. Hermione had been told that she was to be escorted home to deal with a surprise that had come up. The first concern to cross Hermione’s mind was that she was being sent home and would not be allowed to attend Hogwarts any further. It had taken several minutes for Professor McGonagall to convince her that wasn’t the case.

The trip home had been an adventure in itself. Unlike instantaneous phoenix teleportation, this journey gave her an opportunity to take in the sights. The floo network had dropped her off at 10 Downing St., just in time to see a ruffian absconding with the plaque from the letterbox. Moody escorted her to the rear of the building, where he hailed the Knight Bus. Its complete disregard for ECE safety standards had made disembarking her favorite portion of the ride.

Nonetheless, worry warred with curiosity as she rang the doorbell. She had left her latch key in her trunk. Waiting for the door to be answered, she cast another gaze at the man following her. The blue artificial eye moving around erratically was more than a little disquieting. It was more than enough to distract her from the fact that he had a wooden leg.

With a click, the door swung open, and her father smiled at the sight of her. “Welcome home, pumpkin,” he said cheerfully. Turning his gaze to the man behind her, he continued. “And you must be Mr. Moody. My name is Dan Granger, pleased to meet you, and thank you for taking the time to help us.”

“It’s all in a day’s work.” Moody snorted to dismiss the gratitude. “Anyone with an ounce of decency would be glad to help.”

“Perhaps,” Dan said to the grumpy old man, “but from what I hear, you’re the best. It means a lot to us that you’d agreed to be here.”

“Yer welcome,” Moody said, nudging Hermione forward, into the house. “The first thing that needs saying is that the matter Minerva discussed with your wife turned out to be inaccurate, so that’ll be one less worry.”

“That is a relief.” Dan offered a hand by way of greeting. Suspiciously, Moody stared at it a few seconds before firmly shaking the offered appendage.

“What matter was that?” Hermione asked curiously.

“If he wanted you to know, he would have come right out and said it.” Dan told his daughter, “Respect your mother’s discretion. You’re not entitled to know everyone’s business.”

Predictably, Hermione pouted and crossed her arms. In response, Dan placed a loving hand on the top of her head as reassurance.

Moody hid a smirk of approval as Emma entered the room. “Mr. Moody, thank you for coming. I heard what you said, and I’m very relieved.” She also extended her hand in greeting. “Would you care for any refreshments before we get started?”

“There is no telling how long this will take.” Moody grunted. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we get done, and everyone'll be happy.”

“Fair enough,” Emma said. “I had Dan lug it downstairs; it’s in the backroom.”

Moody scowled as he headed in the indicated direction, wand drawn. “That was stupid. You're lucky you didn’t trigger a hidden defense.”

Dan and Emma frowned at the rebuke but said nothing. Silently, they followed the scarred man into the back room.

“That old thing?’ Hermione said, spotting the trunk, sitting in the middle of the room. “It’s been in the attic for as long as I can remember.”

“Probably longer than that.” Moody waved his wand in intricate patterns as he intoned a litany of spells.

Her inquiring nature rearing its head, Hermione took a step forward to begin a barrage of questions only to be brought short by her mother, who quickly slipped her hand over her daughter’s mouth. “Maybe later,” she quietly hissed at Hermione.

For twenty minutes, Hermione wrestled with her drive to learn as she watched Moody's wand dance.

After an eternity, Moody admitted, “It should be safe to open. Go ahead and place your hand on the lock, girl. It will prick you for a blood sample, and there is a surprise waiting inside, so be ready.”

“A surprise?” Hermione asked, eagerly approaching the chest.

“Looks like a boggart has taken up residence,” Moody said. “They're harmless, but can deliver some nasty frights.”

“What’s a boggart?” Hermione asked, not yet having read anything on the subject.

“A boogey man?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “This I have to see.”

Hermione and Dan both shot Emma a glance before Hermione turned her attention to the lock. Without hesitation, she slapped her hand on the brass work. She grimaced slightly at the pain, but smiled as she heard the lock click. Ready for anything, she threw the lid open. Looking inside, she saw a set of stairs descending into shadows, but more importantly, something was climbing toward the exit. Instantly, Hermione recognized the figure. Primal instincts took hold, and she opened her mouth to . . . well . . . Hermione is a little girl. There’s a reason they have the saying, “Scream like a little girl.”

Dan could have sworn he saw her after image shift to orange when she rocketed from the room.

“Riddikulus,” Moody intoned, taking care of the problem. “Yer daughter is afraid of dolls?” he asked casually, taking a shrunken box out of a pocket. It would have taken a detective worthy of Holmes to have noticed the astonishment that the auror displayed.

“It’s a particularly vicious doll,” Dan said, fighting his anger as Emma left after Hermione. “Was that necessary?”

“Like I said, it's harmless, but it had to be flushed out,” Moody said, levitating the redheaded doll in a pink straitjacket into the restored box. “Boggarts take the form of whatever scares the closest magical being they sense. In the end, they really just want to be left alone.”

“So, you just wanted to get a laugh out of scaring my daughter?” Dan asked with a hint of anger.

Moody shrugged. “It was either her or me.” He asked, “Did you really want to see what scares me?”

With a shudder, Dan considered the implications before replying, “No, thank you, I’ve found I’ve become rather fond of sleeping at night.”





Emma rushed out the back room, looking for her daughter. She was about to climb the stairs to the upper level when she noticed an orange gleam from underneath the couch. The seat was much too low to the ground for an eleven-year-old to fit underneath. Getting on her hands and knees, she lifted the cloth skirt to have a peek. “Hermione?”

“Mu..Mu . . . Mum,” the shaking bundle of adorableness replied.

“Did you realize you glow in the dark?” Emma asked, nonchalantly.

“Wha... what about.” Hermione glance toward the backroom.

“Mr. Moody is taking care of it,” Emma reassured her daughter. “He did warn you before you opened the lid.”

“It was him!” Hermione hissed, defending her actions.

“Yes,” Emma agreed, “it did look like him. When your Professor was here before, she mentioned boggarts take the form of whatever scares you the most. I just didn’t think it would do such a convincing job of it. Oh well, live and learn, I suppose.”

Hermione kept her thoughtful gaze on the passageway to the back when a thought hit her. “Um, mum?”

“Yes dear?” Emma asked patiently. “You can come out now, by the way.”

“Aren’t you surprised that I’m . . .” Hermione asked, creeping out from under the couch.

“Surprised that you’re screaming to be cuddled?” Emma inquired, catching up her daughter and sweeping the little pony the rest of the way out and into a hug. “Where do you think the necklace got to?”

“Oh?” Hermione said snuggling closer to her mother. “You tried it on?”

“Yup,” Emma said, tickling Hermione’s belly, “Looks like you get your fur color from me, although I’m nowhere near as vibrant.”

A few seconds passed before Hermione said with a sniffle, “I guess your ashamed of me then?”

“Why ever would you think that?” Emma asked as she continued to pet Hermione.

“My being afraid of such a silly thing,” Hermione whimpered.

“You're eleven years old.” Emma chuckled. “Being frightened of silly movies comes with the territory. I don’t imagine you should act like a little adult all the time. In fact, you should enjoy being a child sometimes.”

“While I am loath to interrupt this touching mother daughter moment,” Discord said standing just off to the side, “is everything all right?”

Startled, the two females stared, wide-eyed, at the man.

“Mr. Discord,” Emma said after a few seconds.

“That suit color is absolutely horrid,” Hermione commented.

“You don’t like it?” Discord said, still searching the room for danger. “Alice told me I have to change my outfit every day. I have to admit, I couldn't be happier with Eurydice's recommendation.”

“It’s horrid.” Hermione repeated before dramatically covering her mouth with her forehoof and inflating her cheeks.

“Be nice,” Emma said, flicking Hermione’s snout lightly with a finger. “What brings you here today, Mr. Discord?

“A large spike of fear caught my attention,” he stated. “I came with all due haste.”

“I believe Mr. Moody has already taken care of the situation,” Emma said, placing Hermione on the floor, “Why don’t you go check; I’m sure you'll want to see what’s in the chest.”

Hermione looked back at her mother for a moment. She then turned back toward the doorway. Squaring her shoulder, she purposefully marched back to the trunk, shifting forms midstride.

After watching Hermione leave, Emma turned to Discord and asked, “You can tell when they’re afraid?”

Discord nodded his head and said, “Yes, the rings I gave them alert me if they feel fear or pain. I can’t always be near, so some precautions are necessary.”

“Fear and pain?” Emma said, standing up. “Why not anger as well?”

“My dear,” Discord said tilting his head slightly, “with so many young souls due to hit puberty in a couple of years, putting an anger detector on their rings would only ensure that the things would never shut up.”

“There is that,” Emma agreed, she pursed her lips, debating on her next question, “Would it be improper of me to ask after Harry? It was kind of ominous the way you came and got him on Friday.”

A frown claimed Discord’s face and he said, “I’m not sure what I should say on the subject. The list of individuals not waiting to get their pound of flesh is already shorter than the queue out for blood. Truthfully, I’m not certain if I could pencil you in as well.”

Emma studied Discord then said, “Then, I’ll have to trust you have everything well in hand.”

Discord replied, “The problem does not lack attention.”

“Well then, would you care to join us exploring Hermione’s inheritance?” Emma asked, changing the subject.





Terisa was more than a little traumatized when she accompanied the first-years to the quidditch pitch. She had known that the Weasley twins had been holding onto brooms for the first-years. A secret like that wasn’t likely to keep for very long, after all. What she hadn’t expected was a literal wall of brand new Nimbus 2000s in the twin’s trunk. She wasn’t positive which twin owned the trunk with the brooms, but, to be honest, she wasn’t sure if the twins really knew either, not that it really mattered where those two were concerned.

Watching the first-years flock around with a small fortune in broomsticks was daunting. The fact that Percy had lent her his broomstick was also more than a little unsettling. She couldn’t help but feel self-conscious even with the twins trailing along with a chest full of quidditch equipment and their own brooms. If she hadn’t promised Abagail flying lessons, Terisa might have forgone the entire experience just for the fear of breaking such an expensive broom.

An uninvited but not unanticipated Oliver Wood followed along. The new quidditch captain was drawn to the brooms like a moth to flames. He had hinted several times that the twins should lend the brooms to the team for practice and games. The thought of his yet-to-be-chosen seeker riding such a broom was driving him to distraction.

Then there was Scoot; the girl needed to have sugar removed from her diet. She was lapping around the group as they walked, singing some absurd song about flying the entire way. By the time they reached the pitch, she would have traveled three times the distance as everyone else.

The new girl, Abagail, was gleefully taking in her surroundings, talking nonstop and even going so far as to accompany Scoot for several laps. The only thing to hold her attention for very long was Magah. Sweetie had removed the necklace as soon as they exited the castle, and the unicorn was wandering about cropping up grass, never far from the group.

Once they reached the center of the field, one of the twins said, “Don’t go off quite yet, Scootaloo; we want to teach you how to play Quidditch.”

“Don’t care,” Scootaloo replied. “I just wanna fly.” Terisa was sure she heard Wood gasp at the blasphemy.

The twins shared a look between them before one opened the chest and retrieved the snitch. “I think you’ll like this. See this? It’s called a snitch. We just want you to catch it.” With that he let the ball go. The winged spheroid vanished in a blur of motion.

“That’s it?” Scoot scrunched her nose as she stood with fists balled, arms akimbo. “Catch a little ball with wings? That’s the whole game?”

“Not by a long shot,” the other twin answered. “Besides, it’s harder than it sounds. The snitch is wicked fast and hard to spot. Catching it is the job of the seeker and ends the game.”

Smirking, Scootaloo straightened her arms and extended her right fist, palm upward. The golden ball squealed in protest. Dean laughed. "You have done well, grasshopper."

The first twin said, "That's not right; you're supposed to chase it down when you're riding."

“Okay, hold that thought.” Scootaloo said. She hurled the snitch into the air and zipped off on her broom. Less than ten seconds later, she returned. “Here you go, game over. Can I go fly now?”

Terisa tried to lure random flying insects with her mouth as Wood wobbled where he stood. The new captain could already feel the Quidditch cup in his grasp.

“Well yeah,” the first twin said, accepting the proffered ball, “but in a match, you don’t take off after it so quickly. There’s normally like a half minute beforehand where it can get good and lost. Try again, but first close your eyes and count to thirty before you go.”

“I just want to fly.” Scootaloo grumbled but closed her eyes.

“That was bloody brilliant,” Wood finally managed to vocalize. “We’ve found our next seeker for sure.”

“It looks that way,” Terisa agreed as the rest of the first-years gathered around the chest to have Ron explain the rest of the equipment.

“Thirty.” Scootaloo said aloud as she finished her count, and she opened her eyes. She did a quick scan of the field, mounted her broom and was off.

“She’s fantastic at handling that broom,” Wood noted as she sped away. “Now, we just have to get Professor McGonagall to okay her being on the team.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” the second twin said as he watched Scootaloo do a screaming chandelle turn and head right back.

“You don’t think she got it already?” Lavender asked, seeing her return.

“Nah,” one of the twins said, “that was way too quick.

Scoot stopped in front of that twin and held out her hand. “Here you go. This is way boring. I’m going flying now. Okay, bye.” Without another word, she took to the sky and proceeded to fuel her passion, leaving her housemates behind in the dust.





Dylan retrieved the letter and the shrunken chest from a large owl he recognized. In fact, the bird wore a harness he had custom-crafted for a customer. Anticipating yet another large order, he read the letter. To his disappointment it was just a request for repairs. Oh well, with the large order just completed for this patron, he would be able to take a much-needed vacation and leave his shop in the hands of his apprentice for a while.

A short time later, he was standing in the front room examining the damage. Whatever had occurred had done structural damage he would not have thought possible. Materials would need to be brought in to complete the repairs. This was not a minor task that he could complete in less than an hour. As matter of fact, the level of destruction was awe inspiring once one stopped to consider the wards that the source had to have overcome. The fact that the customer had survived the experience was a wonder in itself.

Shaking his head, Dylan went into the kitchen and removed all the stores of orange juice. He would replace it with something else; it was obvious that this particular family had no business messing with the breakfast drink.





Ron spat out a clod of grass and groaned. He had plowed a good furrow in the Quidditch pitch with his face.

“Dear brother,” a voice behind him said, “that is not how you accomplish a Wronski Feint.”

“I just don’t know what went wrong,” Ron protested, looking at his broom as if it had betrayed him.

‘Someone needs to help Longbottom out of that tree!” Wood shouted from somewhere downfield, “Lavender look Oooooooof!”

“You know,” Parvati said from where she hovered next to Apple Bloom. “I’m starting to detect a pattern here.”

“Yah,” Apple Bloom agreed, skillfully sitting on her broom, “a painful pattern, in mah experience.”

“Lavender! Down! Down! You need to go down!” Wood panicked as he started to lose his grip.

“Ooo,” Sweetie said looking in Neville’s direction. “That had to hurt.”

“Are flying lessons always like this?” Abigail asked, wobbling between Ginny and Terisa.

“No,” Seamus stated, “it’s a new tradition we just started this year.”

“Incoming!” Harry yelled as Lavender and Wood careened right for them.





In Hermione’s opinion, the inside of the chest wasn’t as spectacular as the one she had back at Hogwarts. It was less like an apartment and more like an attic with a lot of stuff strewn about. Ironically, there were chests inside the chest, but that didn’t matter, at least not yet. Hermione’s attention was riveted to the main prize, a prize she had yet to be allowed to approach. In one corner sat five bookcases filled to the breaking point with, to her delight, books, all of which were taunting her with their inaccessibility as the adults perused the lovelies searching for supposed dangers. True, there might have been something interesting in all the other objects littering the interior, but, how could she just ignore books?

Impatiently, Hermione stood with her parents and watched the two wizards do their work.

“This whole shelf is questionable,” Moody said indicating a row of books.

“I disagree,” Discord said, reading the titles. “I have no question that they need to be burned.”

“What?!” Hermione’s voice hit an impossibly high note. “You don’t burn books!”

“Mmmm,” Discord said turning to her. “Tell me munchkin, are you a good witch or a bad witch?”

“I’m a good witch.” Hermione proclaimed proudly.

“Then I have no doubt that you would try to use the information contained in these to better the world around you since you would strive to use the knowledge to counter its intended purpose,” Discord said. “Despite your good intentions, you must learn that knowledge holds its own power, especially magical knowledge. It can corrupt just by being learned. I don’t mean it will tempt you; I mean it will literally corrupt you; it's an independent force working against your will. Knowledge for knowledge's sake is not a commendable concept where magic is concerned.”

“But.” Hermione forced back her tears, “you don’t burn books.”

Discord gave a sad smile. "Come now, every child dreams of being a fireman at some point."

“I’m afraid the law backs her in this case,” Moody snarled. “While it’s illegal to sell or buy these, they are protected as legacy items. I can’t confiscate them, only warn you about them.”

“How bad are they?” Dan asked worriedly.

“Not as bad as some I’ve seen, but far from good,” Moody admitted.

“Luckily, I’m not bound by the rules restricting Moody here,” Discord said. “When I leave, these books are coming with me, and we’re going to find a nice toasty volcano together.”

Emma nodded her head. “That’s probably for the best.”

“Mum!” Hermione screamed, outraged.

“Mr. Discord,” Moody said menacingly, “I don’t know you well enough to consider letting you leave with these. To say that they are dangerous in the wrong hands would be like saying fiendfyre is a bit hot. I have no way of knowing that you’d actually destroy them.”

“Fair enough,” Discord drawled, tenting his fingers. “Would you fancy accompanying me on a quick hop to the Ring of Fire then?”

“But, the books! “Hermione protested.

“Are being burned,” Dan said with finality.

“But Dad!” Hermione whined.

“I know we raised you to respect knowledge,” Emma said, hugging her daughter from behind, “but it’s a hard fact that most rules are not absolute. Some knowledge is better off lost.”

“Who thinks of these things?!” Discord yelled from where he was still reading titles. “You know what? No, just no.” He snapped his fingers and suddenly, they, along with the bookcase, were on a platform magically suspended over bubbling molten rock. The deadly heat and fumes were diverted away with powerful magic.

Dan looked up at the wide-open sky then down open mouth of the volcano and said, “That’s mighty impressive, but couldn’t you have just brought the lava to us? It seems that would have been easier.”

“It’s not like you can carry lava around in a bucket.” Discord shook his head, “I mean you can use the stuff to smelt metals, it would eat thru a bucket in a matter of seconds.”

“A magical bucket maybe?’ Dan suggested.

“Where's the fun in that?” Discord shook his head. “Besides, even if they're warded, no one will be able to fish them out of magma.” Looking over to Moody, he said, "You may throw when ready, Mr. Montag."

Moody added, “Besides, the HSE paperwork for transporting the stuff is murder.” The auror tossed the first tome over the side with prejudice.

"Wait," Discord said after a moment's thought, "I simply need to get this on film. I know somepony who is going to freak out worse than your daughter when she sees this."
> Chapter 38: Making Up for Lost Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sirius Black would freely admit that the aura of death and despair in the sterile hospital room left him with an uncomfortable sense of foreboding. Still, the rays of hope that permeated the building made it infinitely more welcoming than the little slice of hell that had once been his dwelling. After a week of being prodded and probed, he was more than ready to leave. He had no doubt that he'd need to return for periodic checkups, and there were innumerable torture sessions from the mind healers that he would need to endure to have any chance of resuming a normal life. However, he would be getting his first true taste of freedom soon.

Impatiently, Sirius fidgeted in one of the wingback chairs that had been left in his room for visitors. He was well and truly done with the bed, despite its comfort and warmth. His nervous energy induced indulgent smiles from his friend, who sat calmly in the other visitor chair. Together, they waited for the final paperwork to be completed so they could leave.

“McGonagall knows we’re coming?” Sirius asked again. Remus had long lost count of how many times his friend had repeated that question. Today, they would be reintroduced to their greatest and most important responsibility.

“Yes,” Remus calmly replied yet again as the door to the room opened, causing Sirius to jump from his chair in anticipation.

“Hello,” Andi said as she entered. Two other women followed her into the room. “Looks like they’ll be done in about thirty minutes, and you’ll be able to go.”

“Nissy!” Remus called, recognizing one of the trailing women.

Narcissa visibly perked up, giving the werewolf all of her attention. “Remus! I wasn’t aware you would be here. It’s been far too long.”

“Your husband warned me not to contact you,” Remus said bitterly as he stepped forward to be reunited with yet another old friend.

With an unladylike snort Narcissa snarled, “I am not surprised. He was always so possessive of his possessions, even those he wasn’t particularly fond of.” She, too, stepped forward, shyly smiling at Remus. “I missed you.”

“Narcissa.” Sirius formally acknowledged his kin.

“Sirius. It is good to see you,” she returned, ironically neglecting visual contact as her eyes greedily drank in every detail of her long-absent friend.

“Ahem,” Andi called for attention, and gestured to the other woman who accompanied her. “I’d like to introduce you to Alice Rutter.”

Remus waved absently as Sirius roguishly smiled and said, “Matt and Lucy’s girl. You certainly have grown into a beauty.” Then, with a bearing homophonic with his name, Sirius continued ceremoniously, “I cannot begin to thank you enough for what you have done for me. Words cannot convey the gratitude I hold for your actions. I am in your debt.” There was a pulse of magic, underscoring the gravity of his words.

Solemnly, Alice curtsied at the honor and replied just as formally, “You are most welcome. Let it be known that I renounce any debts that you consider owed to me. Though I would have done the same had I been made aware of your situation in another manner, my actions were the requested repayment of a favor. I was called upon to act by Discord of Equestria, who stated that he was acting as a messenger for the Spirit of Justice. As such, I can lay no claim to your gratitude.” As with Sirius, a pulse of magic punctuated her statement.

“I acknowledge that you operated as an agent for another,” Sirius stated. “Still, your parents were allies, and your actions have greatly benefited House Black. I formally extend the friendship of my House.”

“I humbly and gladly accept,” Alice said.

“So, mote it be,” Sirius intoned, and yet another quantum of magic was felt by all.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Alice said, pointing at Remus and Narcissa, “what’s the story with those two? They haven’t stopped making eyes at each other this whole time.”

“They were friends back at school,” Sirius said

“Unlike me,” Andi sorrowfully said, “Nissy obeyed father and married the man he arranged for her instead of the man she loved.”

They continued to watch the newly-reunited friends stare at each other.

“So,” Sirius whispered, “how long do you suppose it will be before they remember there are other people in the room?”

“I’ve got a galleon on two minutes,” Andi said.

“You're on,” Sirius said. “My money’s on five.”

“I’m in for seven minutes,” Alice said.





“Noooooooooo!” The plaintive wail cut through the air as yet another tome plummeted toward molten rock.

“Hermione,” Dan called from the other side of the platform, where he was still looking over the edge. “Enough.”

“That wasn’t me,” Hermione protested.

“Then who?” Dan demanded.

“It was the book,” Emma informed him.





The third-year Ravenclaw gulped as the aggressor closed the distance between the two of them. He had been careless and had allowed himself to be trapped in an empty classroom. Somehow, he found himself backed into a corner.

Not sure how he would survive the encounter, he stammered, “Um, hi. Can I help you?”

“Yeeeees,” came the purred reply.

Conscious of the hand on the wall next to his head and the close proximity, he tried again. “Did you need help with your homework?”

“Nooo.” Again, with the purring.

He began to shiver with fear. “Then what?”

“I’ve been forced to watch for fifty years.” The purring was getting closer. “You’re mine. We’re just going to see how long it takes for you to realize it.”

“What?” he sputtered, feeling the hot breath caress the skin on his face





“Okay, I’m confused,” Abagail said, no longer wobbling on her borrowed broom. “I thought he said that he has been flying for ages.”

Staying close to the newbie, Ginny watched as her brother screamed and corkscrewed his way down the pitch, followed closely by the laughing twins, who descended in a more controlled manner. “This is new. His broom is just having a disagreement with him.”

“You can make brooms mad?” Abagail asked in surprise, turning to the littlest redhead.

“It would seem so,” Dean said from her other side, looking off in another direction. “I wish someone would catch that snitch, the way it keeps zipping all over the field is distracting.”

“I don’t see it.” Abagail shrugged, surveying the area Dean was studying.

“It’s right there.” Dean pointed. “Oh look, Sweetie and Parvati have pulled Neville out of the lake.

“You can make them out from over here?” Ginny asked, impressed.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “They can help pull Lavender and Wood out of the bushes on their way back.”





“Twilight, darling, are you in here?” Rarity’s voice reverberated through the ancient oak her friend called home. “I’ve received an owl earlier, and I have need of your assistance.”

“Does it involve killer dolls?” Twilight asked warily, cantering from the kitchen area.

“No.” Rarity shook her head. “But, it does involve Harry Potter. I just need you to represent me at a meeting later today, seeing that I’m not really supposed to put in an appearance quite yet.”

“Will Albus Dumbledore be attending?”

“There is that possibility,” Rarity confirmed.

“May I please borrow your bat?”

“I left it in the front room, just in case you asked.” Rarity said with a grin, “I’ve made some improvements.”

“Oh?” Twilight said, looking past her friend to observe the object in question. “You wrapped it in velvet?”

“Blood stains are so bothersome to get out of wood,” Rarity informed Twilight. “This way, I just have to remove and replace the covering.”

Twilight nodded in understanding. “And the sapphires?”

“Just because I have to be brutish doesn’t mean I can’t look fabulous in the process.”

“True,” Twilight relented, “but wouldn’t they stay attached better if they were flush with the wood?”

“Darling,” Rarity waved a dismissive hoof, “surely, you are familiar with concentrating force. These gems are harder than iron; so what if they happen to break off while fulfilling their purpose?”

“I'll make sure he gets the point -- or points.” Twilight raised a forehoof to rub her chin. “Would you like me to modify them so that they dispel standard magic shields?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother.”

“With as much effort as you’ve put into this, I’m surprised you haven’t given it a proper name yet,” Twilight commented.

“Don’t be silly.” Rarity pouted. “Frank was named days ago.”

“Frank?” Twilight raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Frank.”

“So, when you start swinging it you're going to say something like, ‘Let me be Frank’?”

“The thought had never crossed my mind.”

“If you say so.”





“Pay up,” Alice said, sticking out her palm.

“You weren’t even close.” Andi shook her head.

“I was closest,” Alice countered.

“You just picked the biggest number,” Sirius disagreed, “and they’re still at it.”





“Will he recover?” Fluttershy asked Dr. Fauna as the yellow earth pony backed away from the patient.

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t,” Dr. Fauna said, comforting the skittish mare. “How he lost that much blood with no apparent wounds is beyond me. However, the worst is over; now, he just needs rest.”

“I’m so relieved to hear that.” Fluttershy beamed. “He seems like such a nice rat.”

“Coming from anypony else, that statement would be a joke,” Dr. Fauna commented. “Have you chosen a name for him yet?” She had her clipboard out and was already penning "Mr." and was waiting for something like "squeakers" or "nibbler" to finish it off.

“Wormtail,” Fluttershy said.

Dr. Fauna spat out her quill in surprise over the deviation from normal naming practices. “What?”

“One of the times he drifted into consciousness, he said his name was Wormtail,” Fluttershy admitted, with a small hint of disapproval. “We can’t just go around changing his name without permission, now can we?”

Dr. Fauna picked up the dusty quill with a measure of disgust before completing the form. “That’s a unique name. Sounds like he’s somepony’s lost pet.”





With a wistful expression, Elisa looked around her small apartment in wonder. After over a decade of bemoaning its cramped accommodations, she now found it was strangely empty. It now seemed much too big for her.

For the last eleven years, her daughter had been her constant companion. Now that Abagail was off at boarding school, it suddenly became clear to Elisa just how lonely her existence had been. Now, until the Christmas break, it would only be her in the apartment; she wouldn't see another soul there until Christmas break. The sudden isolation threatened to be the proverbial straw that would make her break down and cry.

Elisa had never been a social person; her upbringing had given her no opportunity to develop her social skills. Since her emancipation, her life had been devoted to raising her daughter, so there had been no need to develop friendships. Now that her sole duty had been obviated, she found herself adrift.

Numbly, she turned on the telly to distract herself from the hole in her life. She needed an anchor, any anchor, anything to let her know how she fit in. For the first time she could remember, she needed a purpose.





“So,” Alice remarked with a grin once everyone was paying attention again, “you two were a couple back at Hogwarts?”

Narcissa sighed, “My father would never have tolerated such a scandal. Remus and I were just friends, behind closed doors. My marriage contract would allow nothing more.”

Remus gave a fond smile. “We had some very special conversations back then.”

“Just conversations?” Andi rolled her eyes. “With the way you two reacted to seeing each other? Those must have been some pretty extraordinary conversations.”

“They were,” Narcissa agreed. “I am still bitter that they were forced to end.”

“Well, it isn’t too late to start them up again,” Sirius said, smirking at Remus.”

“Oh!” Alice suddenly widened her eyes. “I just realized where I’ve seen you before. Mr. Lupin, didn’t you save my mother’s life when the Death Eaters attacked that townhall meeting?”

“What?” Remus started. Then, with sadness saturating his voice he continued, “Ah, yes, me and some ‘friends’ did respond to that attack. Sirius and James helped beat back the attack, too, as matter of fact. Those monsters managed to kill fifteen good people that day. They killed a lot of good people afterwards.”

Alice paused as her train of thought was derailed. “They just kept killing,” she whispered, “and even after their master was dead, they still corrupted everything they touched.”

A solemn round of nods circled the room.

“I got them though,” Alice said firmly. “After all these years, I got some of them. Their deaths were much too quick and painless. They did not suffer nearly enough, but I got them.”

“Such hatred weighs down the soul,” Remus cautioned.

“Maybe,” Alice said, “but I got them, and I’ll get the rest, too.”

“Perhaps we should move on to less morbid topics,” Narcissa suggested.

“Right,” Alice said with a mischievous grin. “It’s time for presents.”

“You brought presents?” Sirius perked up. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Just one,” Alice said, “and it’s not for you.”

“Awww.” Sirius gave an exaggerated pout.

Smiling wider, Alice addressed the other man in the room. “Remus Lupin, in acknowledgment of the selfless service you have provided my family in the past, I hereby share with you some of my spoils of conquest. Narcissa Malfoy nee Black is now yours to do with as you please. I pass to you my claim upon her and any she had cared for, as well as a substantial dowry.”

“What?!” yelped everyone else in the room.

“That’s some present.” Sirius whistled, and held his hand about as high as his nose. “While you’re at it, I’d like a blonde about yeah high with a D-cup.”

“You know,” Alice said, “If you’re serious, I do have such a woman still under my aegis.”

Knowing his normal response would spring the trap, Sirius said, “Well, just for today, why don’t you call me Matthew instead.”

“If you change your mind, let me know,” Alice said heading for the door. “In the meantime, me and the girls are going to check on the status of your discharge. We’ll be right back.” The other two women started, and then quickly followed her out the room.

Once the door slammed shut, Remus turned to Sirius and asked, “What just happened?”

“You, my friend,” Sirius said coming over to slap his hand on Remus’ shoulder, “have been had.”

“What?” Remus sputtered.

“She’s devious,” Sirius continued. “She almost got me too. Did you see how fast she leapt for that opportunity? She was just waiting for me to say ‘My dear, I’m always Sirius’ and I almost did, too, out of sheer reflex.”

“What?” Remus repeated, still in shock.





Giggling like schoolgirls, three women made their way down the halls of St. Mungo's.

“Did you see the looks on their faces?” Andi asked, “They actually think the present was for Remus.”

“You’ll have to excuse them.” Narcissa said, “They’re just men; they don’t know any better.”

“True.” Alice giggled. “I do so hope you enjoy your gift.”

“I am sure that I shall.” Narcissa blushed. “Though I must protest at being treated like chattel.”

“Oh?” Alice looked at her. “Would you like for me to go back and annul the whole deal?”

“Don’t you dare.” Narcissa gasped. “Don’t you even dare think of it.”





“Minerva,” the headmaster called to his deputy as she made her way toward her office.

“Yes, Albus?” she asked, waiting for him to catch up.

“I understand that a meeting is about to take place in your chambers and thought it would be best if I attended,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. “After all, Sirius has been in Azkaban for all these years, and there couldn’t be enough supervision for this reunion.”

“I’m afraid that is out of the question,” Minerva said, her lips pursed thin. “Mr. Potter’s guardian has submitted paperwork stating that you are not to have any contact with him. In fact, she will be sending a representative.”

Dumbledore tsked in dismissal, “I am the headmaster still; it is well within my responsibilities to see to the wellbeing of my students.”

“Yes, it is,” Minerva said narrowing her eyes at a sudden thought. “In this case, his wellbeing precludes your presence.”

“I must protest,” Dumbledore said.

“I am sorry, Albus.” Minerva stated firmly, “They are well within their rights to exclude you, and they have done so explicitly.”

“I am sure that I still have wisdom to share,” Dumbledore insisted. “Once we get past this misunderstanding, I’m sure we can all work together for the greater good.”

Minerva sighed and laid down the law. “Albus, your mishandling of Harry’s welfare has made you persona non grata with the ponies. You said yourself that we should not provoke them unnecessarily.”

Dumbledore frowned. At this point, if he removed the ponies from the school, they would take Harry with them when they left. That could not be allowed.

“Very well,” he relented, “I shall leave it in your capable hands then.” With those words he turned on his heels and stalked to his own office.





The tropical sun no longer beat down from above as they explored the rest of the contents of the trunk. The two wizards ruffled through the assorted contents as Hermione, much to her glee, was given leave to explore her new library. A quick scan produced a book entitled, “Read me first.” Not seeing any reason not to, Hermione opened it to do just that.

“Mum!” she exclaimed, producing a sealed envelope. “This one has a letter in it. Addressed to ‘my descendants’”

“That sounds promising,” Emma said from where she was perusing the remaining titles. “Would you mind reading it out loud for everyone to hear?”

“Okay.” Hermione said, opening the envelope. Moody and Discord, their curiosity piqued, wandered over to listen.

Standing straighter, Hermione began reading.

Dear child of my children,

I greet you. My name was Lucinda Dalena Kirkland nee Lestrange. I say was, because I have written and rewritten this letter many times over the years, any hope that I might know who would finally open my trunk has passed. I only pray that it will one day be opened.

If you have not already deduced from the items surrounding you and titles of the books on the shelves, magic exists. The trunk is keyed to open for the first of my descendants to be able to control magic, something I, myself, have never been able to do.

Before we devolve into my history, let me warn you of the third shelf on the furthest bookcase. The books there are not moral. I have debated with myself, long and hard on whether to include them or see them destroyed. I hope you are the type of person who seeks goodness. If not, I charge you with burning those books this very instant. My brother has charmed the book you found this letter in so that you must reflect on your motives, before you may read any of the aforementioned books. The reason they are there is because, despite the curses and horrors they hold, they also, for the most part, hold the counter curses and cures as well.

With a massive scowl, Hermione stopped reading and turned her glare towards Discord.

“Well.” Discord said, chuckling slightly, “I don’t see myself living this one down for a while.”





Minerva surveyed her magically-expanded office and the people sitting in the wingback chairs. There had been some unanticipated additions. Sirius and Remus were, of course, expected. The two Black sisters and Miss Rutter were not.

Minerva cleared her throat, “Once the representative for Harry’s guardian arrives, we may begin. After we have a chance to get acquainted with each other, I will summon Mr. Potter,” she assured everyone present. “While we wait, would anyone care for some refreshments?”

“I am Harry’s guardian.” Sirius protested, fidgeting in his chair. Minerva was sure she saw Miss Rutter flinch at the declaration.

“Be that as it may,” Minerva gently admonished her former student, “Mrs. Belle has shown to care deeply for her new charge, and I do believe you will be able to find common ground with her. I recommend treating her envoy with respect as well as gratitude.”

“Don’t worry; anyone who has Harry’s best interest at heart has my gratitude,” Sirius said.

“Will Discord be coming?” Alice asked.

“I find it most likely that he will be,” Minerva said with a knowing look. Some children wore their hearts on their sleeves.

Alice beamed at the news and sat straighter in her chair, just as an owl flew into the room.

Recognizing the avian, Minerva reached for the letter he was holding.

“How did he get in?” Remus asked. “Your windows are closed.”

“He’s a very clever owl,” Minerva said quickly reading the letter, then with a raised eyebrow, she placed the tip of her wand on the pouch the owl was wearing and said, “Ex dimittere.”

“Baaaaarrf!”

“That’s an unprecedented manner of travel.” Narcissa said over the surprised silence.

“It certainly lacks in the dignity department,” the purple and pink haired woman on the floor commented, standing up.

“Is your hair naturally three toned?” Andi asked jealously.

“Yep,” the woman said, reaching into the pouch from which she had just emerged. “Hello, my name is Twilight Sparkle.”

“Miss Sparkle,” Minerva said with a small smile, “welcome, I am Minerva McGonagall. It is a pleasure to meet you in person.”

“Professor!” Twilight said pulling a velvet covered bat from the pouch. “I’m so glad to finally meet you as well.” The assembled adults stared at the small fortune in sapphires that studded her acquisition.

“You came prepared,” Remus noted as he watched her take a few awkward practice swings.

“I do tend to be detail orientated,” Twilight said frowning at her efforts.

“I think you’ll find that you’ll have better results and find it more comfortable if you keep your hands closer together,” Sirius said standing to get behind the woman, “Here let me show you.”

“Gah!” Twilight exclaimed, highly conscious of the sudden close proximity of the unfamiliar human stallion.

“There you go,” Sirius said, backing away. “Give it a swing now.”

Twilight promptly pulverized an innocent vase, forgetting to watch her bat instead of the stallion behind her as she swung.

“Um, I see,” Twilight said looking at the mess, her face as pink as the highlight in her hair, “basic leverage . . . I can fix this.”

Chortling, Remus waved his wand. “Reparo,” he intoned, and the porcelain fragments reintegrated into a priceless heirloom.

“Thank you,” Twilight said, turning to examine the other occupants of the room. She did not steal any glances back at the first stallion. “By the distinct lack of flowing white beards, I assume none of you are Albus Dumbledore?”

“He’s not here,” Andi confirmed, still eyeing the bat.

“When is he expected?” Twilight said with a hint of hope in her voice.

“He won’t be attending,” Minerva firmly stated.

“Are you positive?” Twilight asked, dejected.

“Yes.”

Twilight sighed and put the bat back in the owl’s pouch.

“You seem awful determined to . . . um . . . meet him,” Andi ventured.

“If I don’t get my conversation with him in soon, I’m afraid I won’t get the chance,” Twilight stated, casually edging closer to the stallion to see if he would back away.

“Do all of your conversations involve gem-encrusted bats?” Narcissa inquired.

“No, this is a first for me.” Twilight admitted.

“May I ask what prompted this reaction, then?” Andi asked.

“What promp . . .” Twilight sputtered, “I take it none of you have read the medical report?”

“What medical report?” Sirius demanded, for the second time in one day evoking the gravitas that his name suggested.





The ambience was the unique flavor found in all family-owned Italian restaurants. It was something the big chains would never be able to recreate, no matter how hard they tried. Around the table topped by an unimaginative red and white cover sat a lunch party.

“I am so glad you let us treat you to lunch,” Emma said, ignoring her menu; she already knew what she wanted.

Moody grunted appreciatively as Discord smiled and diplomatically replied, “How could we deny you more time with your daughter? Besides, good food is always welcome.”

“And despite our daughter’s disappointment, we are appreciative of the trouble you went through over those books.” Dan said dipping a breadstick in some warm marinara sauce.

Hermione crossed her arms and continued to sulk.

“I am sorry that we upset you, Hermione,” Discord said, “but I won’t apologize for disposing of those atrocities.” Pulling a stack of pictures out of the pocket of this garishly ghastly jacket, he said with a grin, “Besides, I get to practice my dodging skills.”





The first-years had just entered the castle when the spell accosted one of their number.

“Mr. Potter, please report to my office immediately,” the silvery form of a cat said as Sweetie hid behind Parvati.

“Giiii?” Magah inquired, unsure why one of her charges was shivering at the sight of wholesome-feeling magic.

“Well,” Harry said, handing his broom to Neville, “looks like it’s about that time.”

Neville ogled the broomstick he had just been handed before saying, “I’m not sure if I want to hold two of these right now.” With that, he handed the extra to Ron.

Ron eeped and handed it to Seamus.

“Apple Bloom?” Scootaloo asked, holding out a hand to receive the redhead’s broom.

“Right,” Apple Bloom said entrusting her ride to her friend, “let’s go then, Harry.”

“You’re coming with?” Harry asked. “I think Professor McGonagall wants me to come alone.”

“Yer part of a herd now,” Apple Bloom said. “Y’all don’t ever have to face anything alone if you don't want. But if you don’t want me, Sweetie or Parvati would be happy to tag along. Any of your herdmates would be.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Harry quickly replied, a warm feeling filling his being. “Yes I want you to come with.”

“Then, let’s face this together.” Apple Bloom held out her hand for Harry to take. “Ah swear Ah will never fail to stand by yer side as long as y’all will have me.”

Unnoticed, magic pulsed.
> Chapter 39: Applying Overkill
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The meeting room was the antithesis of the stereotypical newsroom bullpen. Instead of a dark, smoky pit, it was a bright, fresh, and inviting space. A wall of tinted glass filtered out the harshness of the morning sun. The warm rays bathed the modern glass-topped chrome table as the journalists gathered around, sitting attentively in ergonomic chairs.

Although the stale smells of smoke and sweat were absent, one thing remained unchanged, the scent of a promising lead. Mike had developed his nose for news over the decades, and this tidbit smelled positively enticing. The trick now was to convince the others.

“I can’t believe we are sitting here having this conversation,” a man in his late forties said with a smirk. “You do know most of what’s on those conspiracy threads are pure bunk, don’t you?”

Another man, a junior reporter nodded his head and replied, “Yeah, I normally just skim them for a laugh, but you never know when something may lead to a real story.”

“We might be able to get a human-interest filler out of it,” a young woman in a tidy yellow business suit said. “It can’t hurt to have a look.”

“That was my assumption, too,” Mike said. Despite the others' skepticism, he hoped his serious demeanor would underscore his sincerity. “I sent a camera crew to the site for a look. They came back with a lame excuse as to why they had to do something else first.”

“That’s weird,” the first man noted. “I assume you chewed them out for it, Mike.”

Mike grimaced at the memory. “Yes, and two more times to boot. I even threatened their jobs, and they still came back empty-handed.”

“I’m not sure I’m liking where this seems to be heading,” the woman said.

“It gets better,” Mike said. “I got fed up and sent Frankson instead. You know what kind of stubborn arse he is.”

“Yes,” the first man said, “a useful trait in our work.”

“Well, he came back empty-handed the first time, too,” Mike admitted. “That’s when I told him there was something making him want to avoid looking. I was only half-serious, but he said something about somebody else’s problem field and went back. He called me when he got there and said that he had to will himself to stay and that the SEP field was real.”

“SEP field?” the junior reporter asked.

“I’m not sure,” Mike said, pressing "play" on the VCR in the room, “but he got this footage.”

The large telly in the room showed a street in downtown London, specifically three shops next to each other. People in fancy dress walked into and out of the pub without eliciting the slightest reaction from the patrons of the other businesses.

“So,” the first man asked curiously, “what are we looking at? All I see is a dingy pub sandwiched between two newer stores.”

“That’s the thing,” Mike said. “If you were to go look for yourself, you’d swear the pub wasn’t there.”

“Oh boy,” the woman said. “So much for finding a filler. What was the name of that newsgroup again? I think my afternoon is going to be busy.”





“What’s next?” Seamus asked as they entered the boys' dormitory.

“Well, two things really,” Parvati said. “Neville needs a new wand, and we should go to that store Twilight mentioned for the stuff needed to get muggle 'lectricity to work.”

“We may be pushing our luck just a little,” Ginny said. “They’re bound to notice we keep leaving at some point.”

“Milk it for all it’s worth.” Dean shrugged.

“We can get the twins to cover for us,” Ron suggested. “We’re not going to be gone that long.”

“We should break into teams and do some stealth shopping,” Scootaloo said, “and I can’t believe I just suggested shopping.”

“I’ve got the promissory note from Rarity,” Sweetie piped up, “so Lavender, Seamus, Dean, and I will get the crystals for the alternator.”

“Ron, Neville, and I can handle the wand.” Scootaloo nodded. “We should be done in half an hour.”

“The rest of us just get to sit around and wait?” Parvati griped.

“Just run interference,” Dean said. “You, Abagail, and Ginny should be fine with that. We’ll be back before lunch.”

“Could you bring back pizza?” Parvati asked.

“You just had pizza the other day,” Ginny chastised.

“Your point is?” Parvati asked.

“We still have tons of leftovers,” Scootaloo said. “We shouldn’t let 'em go to waste.”

“You can only eat so many apples,” Parvati complained.

“Don’t let Apple Bloom hear you say that,” Sweetie warned. “Seriously, don’t.”

“Yeah.” Parvati agreed, “I kind of figured that one out.”





“Well,” Rainbow Dash asked as the train pulled out of Ponyville station, “are you going to explain why you’re dragging us to Canterlot?” She sat on a padded bench next to Applejack, eyes still bleary from being awakened from her nap.

Rarity patted the closed box that sat on the bench next to her. “The Crusaders have provided gifts for the princesses. It is only fitting for you two to be there representing Scootaloo and Apple Bloom when I present them.”

“Gifts?” Applejack asked warily, “What kind of gifts?”

“Chests,” Rarity replied honestly.

Suddenly, Applejack dove behind the bench for cover, keeping just her head in view. “Y’all sure it’s a good idea to bring unbound chests on the train? There’s no telling when they might decide it’s snack time.”

“Tsk,” Rarity snorted dismissively. “They are still shrunken and in their original packaging.”

“So, we should only worry about them taking a hoof or two instead of swallowing us whole?” Rainbow narrowed her eyes at the now-threatening box.

Rarity eyed the package as well before cautiously edging away. “I do wish you hadn’t put it that way.”





There was a timid knock on the heavy oaken door, catching the full attention of everyone in the room. The built-up tension was thick enough to cut with a popsicle stick, making it hard for the occupants to breathe.

“Come in,” Minerva called out, a somber frown dominating her features.

The well-oiled hinges let the door silently swing open. “We’re here,” a tentative voice called out.

“Miss Bloom?” Minerva said. “I was under the impression Mr. Potter would be attending alone.”

“Y’all didn’t think we’d let him face this by his lonesome did ya?” Apple Bloom said, following Harry into the room.

“Apple Bloom!” the purple-haired woman sitting in a chair cheerfully chimed up. “I’d recognize that bow anywhere. And Harry Potter, good to see you!”

“Twilight?” Apple Bloom skipped into the room. “Ah almost didn’t recognize you thar.”

“Hello, Mrs. Sparkle,” Harry said before asking, “why are those two wrapped in wooden cocoons?”

“They needed a timeout for tempers,” Professor McGonagall informed him. “Even though they have good reason, I simply cannot allow them to barge through the school bent on having a reunion with the headmaster.”

“In short,” another woman said from her chair, “They were letting their Gryffindor show when its clearly time for a Slytherin mindset.”

“Mmmmm,” Sirius yelled around his wooden muzzle.

Apple Bloom looked quizzically at Twilight and asked, "Tameshiwari?"

Twilight shook her head. "I think it would be best if we let them calm down."

“I do believe I put them there for a reason, Miss Bloom,” Professor McGonagall said. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t undo my efforts.”

“How did you manage to catch both of them like that?” Harry asked.

“Mr. Potter, I am not your transfiguration professor by virtue of my looks alone,” came the reply.

“I think you should let them down so they can be properly reunited with Harry,” another woman said. “That should keep them distracted for at least a few minutes.”

“Yes, you’re right, Alice,” Twilight said, wandering over to the children for hugs. “From what I understand, it would be a good idea to file a blood feud before commencing with the rampaging."

“Says the woman who brought a bat to the meeting.” Alice replied.

“I couldn’t pass up the chance, now could I?” Twilight said, pulling Harry and Apple Bloom close to herself, in a warm hug. "Besides, I filed my paperwork as soon as Rarity told me about it."

“Mrrrrrrrph!” The two men still attached to the ceiling reminded everyone that they were waiting.





A flash of flames announced the arrival of the entourage. Philomena lovingly nuzzled her owner while her passengers tried to orient themselves. Five creatures straight out of mythology gawked in wonder as their two friends wearing their guise cheerfully greeted a legendary being.

The human first-years could scarcely believe their eyes. They had become accustomed to Magah, the fantastic unicorn who radiated purity. The pure white creature who stood before them was something much grander. The twinkle in her eyes spoke of great intelligence, and her regal bearing commanded instant respect. The combination of wings and horn, though showed that she was something truly special.

“Hello Princess!” Sweetie waved merrily. “Sorry to barge in like this; I didn’t think Philomena would pop us into your chambers when I asked her to take us to Canterlot.”

“Hello Princess,” Scootaloo added. “It's good to see you, and yeah, sorry about just dropping in.”

The large white alicorn giggled and said, “That is quite all right. You are always welcome to visit.” She then refocused on the dumbfounded humans. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends?”

“This is Lavender Brown,” Sweetie said pointing to the girl, “and then Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas,” Sweetie paused to get a better view of the remaining herd, “and Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Everyone, this is Princess Celestia.”

“Hello, your Highness,” the humans chimed in unison, bowing and curtseying as appropriate.

“My.” Celestia beamed at the small children. “You are all so polite. I am surprised you did not bring Harry Potter with you today.”

“We were just going to do a quick run to a couple of stores,” Sweetie said. “Everypony didn’t need to come.”

“I see,” Celestia said as she stood from her cushions to come over to inspect the human children. “And just what did you come to Canterlot to purchase?”

“Thaumatic resonating crystals.” Sweetie said before Scootaloo could answer. “Humans haven’t got their electronics to work well in high magic areas yet. We bought some electronic toys that won’t work well at school otherwise.”

“So, no resurrecting ghosts or anything outlandish like that?” Celestia asked, studying a slightly shivering Neville.

“No ma’am,” Scootaloo said. “We're just trying to get some common stuff to work right at school.”

“I cannot see how that would be a problem,” Celestia said turning her attention to Lavender. “Did you bring enough bits with you for the purchase?”

“Rarity sent me a promissory note.” Sweetie held up the paper.

“That would work fine in Ponyville, where she is well known.” Celestia sent her magic to her desk, retrieving a sheet of paper and a quill. “However, in Canterlot, this will be better received; I’ll just deduct the bits from the amount I owe Rarity for the chests you ordered.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Sweetie said accepting the new paper.

“You are welcome,” Celestia said moving to Ron. “Will you be staying for lunch?”

“Sorry, no,” Scootaloo said. “We are in a bit of a rush.”

“A pity,” Celestia said, “I’m sure Luna and Cadence would have loved to meet you all. As it is, Luna is going to be upset at sleeping through this chance encounter.”

“Maybe in the near future?” Sweetie suggested, “We can bring everypony.”

“That would be perfect,” Celestia said with a smile. “Now, don’t let me keep you from your tasks, I am sure you want to get your toys working.”

“Your Highness,” Dean spoke up, finding his voice, “would it be rude to ask for a couple of hairs from your wonderful tail?”

Celestia paused for a second, unsure how to answer, “Well Dean Thomas, that is a curious request. May I ask why you would want such a thing?”

“Er.” Dean shuffled a foot in embarrassment. “They make wands with unicorn tail hairs. I would feel like a right fool if I didn’t at least ask. I’m sorry if I offended you, I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad.” Celestia reassured him, then winced as she used her magic once again. “I was just surprised at your unusual request. Here, let me put these in an envelope so you don’t lose them.”

“Thank you, your Highness.” Dean bowed deeply, accepting his prize. “My gratitude knows no bounds.”

Celestia giggled again, “Sweetie Belle, where ever did you find such a charmer?”

Scootaloo snarked, "Who are you, and what have you done with the real Dean?"





A pathetic body of a beetle stilled, never to move again. The transfer was half-complete.





Four foals trotted down the passageways of the palace, hoofbeat echoing in the long, marble passage. The rest of their number had been whisked away to Ollivander's. The periodically-stationed guards paid them little or no attention, even though the foals were staring at them in awe.

“Sweetie,” the little lavender-colored earth pony suddenly spoke up as her friends continued to inspect their surroundings, “as stupid as this may sound, it just now occurred to me that your animagus form isn’t a small white unicorn.”

“Oh?” Sweetie Belle said, turning toward her friend.

“I just realized your animagus form is a human girl.”

Sweetie Belle giggled. "I know; that would just freak out all my friends in Ponyville." With that, she continued to lead her friends through the palace.





The small professor escorted his guest to the Great Hall for an early lunch. They had skipped supper and breakfast and both were looking forward to a hearty meal.

Despite the rumors that were to come, they did not walk bow legged the entire way. Despite how they felt, there had been no bone deformation.

Professor Flitwick had always been known as a cheerful and happy man. The enthusiasm he displayed buoyed the spirits of all the students who passed through his classes. He was a joy to all who encountered him.

A smile graced his face more often than not. All his charges had fond memories of those smiles.

Those memories paled in comparison to the grin that currently monopolized his face.





Once again, Harry found himself at the center of attention. This time, it was a couple of friends of his father who could not seem to tear their attention away from him. The man, Sirius Black, had vowed most formally that he would do everything in his power to see that Harry never again suffered as he had in the past. There had been many apologies made over failing to do their duty and more than one warning not to trust the headmaster.

Then came the bombshells, Harry was related to several of those present through his paternal grandmother. He had family that cared. He had family that would have gladly taken him in and raised him with love.

If it had not been for the proclamation by Dumbledore himself, no one would have known that Harry had participated in any way in the destruction of the Dark Lord. It was because of Dumbledore that he was famous. It was because of Dumbledore that he needed protection from the still-prevalent followers of Voldemort. It was because of Dumbledore, that he had grown up secluded, ignorant and unloved.

Professor McGonagall said that when she had confronted the headmaster, he had stated that everything he had done in regards to Harry’s up bringing had been for the Greater Good. You could almost hear the capital letters. Even with the medical report, she had not been aware of exactly what had transpired. She had thought that Albus hadn’t known that Harry had been mistreated. Hearing that the Equestrians were convinced that he had been using compulsion charms came as an unwelcome surprise.

In his peripheral vision, Harry saw tears in Apple Bloom’s eyes and surprisingly in Professor McGonagall’s as well. The rest of the women in the room were shaking with anger not bothering to hide their own waterworks. Harry hated the pity. He just wanted to forget the past. He wanted to go into the future with his new friends as an equal. He wanted to protect his herd from harm. He would protect them. As much as his herd had committed to him, he was now committed to them.

After all, Dumbledore had done this to the son of people he called friends. What would he be willing to do to the rest of them? Silently he vowed to himself not to allow the headmaster a chance, Harry would protect his herd. Dumbledore had failed to make a willing servant. Dumbledore had failed to capture the devotion of a desperate and unloved child. Dumbledore’s plans had backfired.

Dumbledore had succeeded in making an enemy.





“What’s wrong with Magah?” Fay asked as she watched the woman nervously scurry yet again around the common room, worry plastered on the pseudo human's face.

“She gets antsy when we're not all in her immediate sight,” Parvati explained. “She’ll be fine once they all come back.”

“I would have expected her to have followed Sweetie,” Fay commented.

“Sweetie needed a break,” Ginny said. “Magah hasn’t left her side in a week.”

“I can’t say that I blame her for wanting a breather,” Fay agreed. “Besides, it's funny watching all the boys obsess over Magah. Although I admit, I’m getting tired of vanishing all of the drool puddles.”





“It’s closed.” Scootaloo and her friends stared at the sign in the shop door. “We come all the way here, and it’s closed.”

“I suppose we shouldn’t have expected him to be open on the weekend.” Neville sighed. “It does seem kind of silly once you stop to think about it.”

“Let’s just get the pizzas and head back,” Ron said.

“Any ideas where to get pizza?” Scootaloo asked.

Ron stopped short and frowned. “Not a clue.”

“What is this?” a surprised voice said from behind them. “Three Hogwarts students loitering outside my shop?”

The spooked trio pivoted toward the voice. “Hello, Mr. Ollivander,” Scootaloo piped up after she got her breathing back under control.”

“Greetings Miss Aloo, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Longbottom,” Ollivander said, skirting around the children to enter his shop. “Won’t you please come in?”

“Thank you,” Ron and Scootaloo said while Neville asked, “How did you know who I was?”

Ollivander chortled. “My dear boy, I sold your parents their wands; did you think I would not recognize their offspring? Now, what brings you three here? Without supervision I might add.”

“We were doing homework and found out that Neville’s wand was burnt out,” Scootaloo said, following the man into his shop.

“Burnt out?” Ollivander scowled deeply. “It takes a lot to burn out a wand; let me see.”

Hastily, Neville dug his wand out of his robe’s pocket and presented it. “It was my father’s,” he said unnecessarily.

“Yes, I see.” Ollivander gently took the wand and examined it, his eyes fogging slightly “Your father poured his very essence into his last few spells. The wood is permeated with his desire to protect you and his wife. I can still feel his determination to give his life to save yours. It pulses with all the unconditional love he felt for you. This wand wants to serve you, but it’s core is almost inert. That you have managed any magic with it proves its devotion to you.”

Neville let tears fall freely, “Can you fix it?”

“I am sure I have the material for a new core squirreled away somewhere in here.” Ollivander said with a sad smile, “The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Longbottom, and this wand is screaming that it chooses you, even as it no longer has the means to do so. The bonds it has formed are invaluable. I could not craft a more perfect wand for you, even given a thousand years to try.”

“Oh,” Ron said, nudging Scootaloo. “We brought core material; maybe it can be used in Neville’s wand.”

“Did you bring me some hairs from your friend’s unicorn?” Ollivander asked, his interest piqued, “Maybe a tail feather or two from her phoenix?”

“Nah,” Scootaloo said, pulling an envelope from her robes, “We got hairs from Princess Celestia. She’s pretty magical, so we thought they might work.”

Scrutinizing the contents of the envelope, Ollivander’s breath caught in his throat. “Yes, these shall be more than adequate. I would be interested in purchasing any extras you would be willing to part with.”

“Sorry, they’re not for sale. They were given as a gift and that would just be rude.” Scootaloo shook her head, “But Dean did ask if you could make him a wand from one and I’m sure the rest of us wouldn’t mind an extra wand as well.

“Yes, I do believe we can work out an agreeable price for custom work.” Ollivander’s eyes sparkled at the thought of working with the new material. “It won’t take but a few minutes to set one of these in Mr. Longbottom’s willing wand, but the rest of the work will take a couple months at least.”

“We’re in no hurry.” Scootaloo shrugged. “The only other thing we’ve got for you is that Neville carries his wand in his robe pocket as do most members of our house. We’d like to order holsters for every Gryffindor.”

“I am sure I could arrange that,” Ollivander said, not taking his eyes off the contents of the envelope. “But first, let’s get Mr. Longbottom’s problem corrected.”





Disillusioned, Richard Goodman stood in a corner of the wand shop and watched Ron pay for the purchases with a vault key. It seemed Miss Aloo was almost broke for the year after a bulk broom purchase. Every now and then, the proprietor would turn his gaze in Richard’s direction, obviously well-aware that he was there.

The ex-auror could only watch one group of children at a time, and he had no idea where the other bunch had gone.





The door triggered a brass bell assembly when it was swung open and the four foals filed quickly into the store.

Mystic Book raised an eyebrow at the sight of them. Two unicorns accompanied by a pegasus and an earth pony was an odd combination for a store specializing in magical paraphernalia. She only sold a few goods that could be considered completed products.

“Bonjour,” she merrily greeted the plainly-lost children. “Welcome to Enchantment Essentials.”

“Hello,” the children chimed up, trotting over to the counter behind which she was standing.

“We need some crystals,” the pink pegasus colt said. He was a curiosity. The number of parents who passed up the opportunity to change coat colors on newborn foals, when it came to pink colts could be counted on one hoof.

“I have plenty of crystals,” Mystic Book said pleasantly, “though I’m afraid they aren’t the spelled ones you are probably looking for. I sell the components for the items you're used to buying, not the finished products.”

“You don’t have any thaumatic resonating crystals?” the white unicorn filly asked, disappointed.

Mystic Book’s ears pivoted forward slightly, “You foals want to mess with electricity? That can be dangerous.”

“We need something to protect our stuff from magical fields and supply 'lectricity for it,” the earth pony filly said eagerly, placing her front hooves on the counter to stand on her hind legs.

“I’m not sure I’d be a responsible mare if I were to sell you anything like that,” Mystic Book said. “Besides, the better crystals with stable DC are rather pricy. I’m afraid I’d want your parents present for such a purchase.”

“Awww,” three of the foals said before the unicorn colt tried, “We don’t want a DC crystal, we want one at two hundred thirty volts and fifty hertz AC.”

“That is oddly specific,” the elder mare said, narrowing her eyes, “and while a lot cheaper, AC is more dangerous than DC. I can’t think of any equipment that uses AC because of that fact. I’m sorry; you are not helping your case.”

“Our parents aren’t in Canterlot.” The lavender earth pony pouted. “If we got Princess Celestia to vouch for us, would you sell us the crystals?”

“That would be a ludicrous amount of overkill.” Mystic Book said to the filly, with a patronizing smile, “As if I would waste the princess’s time on such a matter. Good luck on getting in to see her, though.”

“We just came from her chambers,” the unicorn colt said smugly. “She gave us a form to purchase the crystals and stuff.”

“You can’t expect me to believe such a tale.” Mystic Book turned a disapproving frown on the obviously-fibbing colt. “Not only am I disappointed in you for lying, I am appalled that you’d think I’d fall for such an outlandish falsehood.”

“It’s true.” the unicorn filly plopped a paper on the counter. “See.”

Mystic Book glanced at the paper, did a double take, then moved forward to examine it closer. Warily, a pulse of magic was sent through her horn to test the seal affixed to the sheet. “Where did you get this?” she squeaked.

“We told you,” the pink pegasus said. “Princess Celestia gave it to us.”

“You could buy an estate in the upper district with this,” Mystic Book whimpered, “no, questions asked.”

“That would be irresponsible,” The lavender earth filly said. “She gave it to us with the understanding that we would be buying those crystals. While I’m sure she wouldn’t mind us getting related items, an estate would be breaking her trust.”

“You said two hundred and thirty volts?” Mystic Book confirmed.





Goodbyes were said, and the children were sent on their way. Apple Bloom hovered so close to Harry that she was practically tripping over him with every step. As soon as the door closed a foreboding silence dominated the room. A very large elephant needed to be prodded.

“What now?” Alice asked after a while. “He can’t be allowed to get away with this.”

“I’m not sure I want the girls going to a school with him in charge,” Twilight agreed.

“With the forms you have signed,” Minerva said, “he has little to no authority over them. Despite your misgivings, I do not think you should withdraw your children.”

Twilight nodded. “Both Princess Luna and Celestia have pledged to reprimand him personally if he so much as looks at them crossly. Of course, first they’d have to beat Discord to him.”

“They should be careful.” Narcissa warned, “Dumbledore didn’t live to be over a hundred for no reason, you know.”

A minute later, Minerva raised an eyebrow as she watched the purple-haired woman who rolled on the floor and continued to laugh uncontrollably.

“How long do you think she’s able to keep that up?” Remus asked.





Supper saw the herd in the Great Hall, bunched close together at the Gryffindor table. For once, Apple Bloom wasn’t sitting next to Ron, stuffing her face. Instead, she sat next to Harry and ate about as much as Hermione, warily watching anything that approached the table. Needless to say, this had everyone in Gryffindor worried about her health.

“What happened at the meeting?” Parvati asked with concern as she scrutinized Harry and Apple Bloom. “Did Sirius Black hurt you?”

“Sirius did nothing wrong.” Harry snapped, then with a sigh said, “Sorry, I learned some things today.”

“It's okay,” Ginny said from where she sat on his other side. “Whatever you’ve learned, we’ll handle it together.”

“Please,” Harry said, “I just want to forget it and be happy with you guys. So, you all can stop getting up and hugging me every few minutes.”

“We need the hugs just as much as you do.” Hermione said quietly, “It hurts us to see you two hurting, especially since we don’t know why.”

“You colts are sleeping in our bed tonight.” Sweetie commanded, “I want to keep you close and safe.”

“Night clothes shall be worn.” Parvati said.

“I’m sure that breaks all kinds of rules.” Dean snorted.

“Don’t care,” Scootaloo replied with grim determination.

Silently, they returned to their meal.

Down the table a way, Fay looked up and said, “Two special editions in one month? What do you suppose happened now?”

Sure enough, owls delivered an evening edition of the "Daily Prophet" to all of the subscribers taking a meal.

“What’s it say?” Seamus asked in a subdued voice as Hermione scanned the newspaper.

“He’s real!” Hermione said with a gasp. “Some wizard copied the idea from the movie and now he’s real!”

“What?” Abagail looked over at the headline Hermione was displaying, “Oh, I have a doll exactly like that back home.”
> Chapter 40: Play Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unlike the case with abandoned refrigerators, people with experience with trying to escape from a closed dresser drawer were practically non-existent. Size alone dictated that these would-be Houdinis be limited to small children, dwarves, and the odd goblin. Those who value their health would be well-advised to avoid attempting to stuff a goblin into a dresser drawer, no matter how roomy.

Insight born of millennia of experience led the former beetle to the brute force approach. Multiple rapid slides in the direction of the exit and no small amount of swearing heralded his rediscovery of Newton's third law of motion. After a brief rest to reenergize and strategize, he found a letter opener. After two hours of invoking Archimedes, he managed to open enough of a gap to wedge his hands. Now, getting out was child's play.

To his dismay, the not-inconsiderable noise he had made during his escape had failed to pique the curiosity of the surplus female. It would have been so much easier for him to ambush her had she only paid attention like a normal human. Now, he was running on the last dregs of his power, making it hard for him to think. Ensuring a stable transfer had taken the lion's share of his energy reserves, and the mana he received from the girl had slowed to a trickle. It made no sense; she couldn't have moved so far away in the blink of an eye. To make matters worse, she had not come home the night before, and it did not look like she would be coming home tonight, either. At his body's current rate of decay, there was no way he could survive the night without a massive infusion of mana. The woman had to die. He would reclaim his power from her lifeblood; only then would he again be whole.

With an almost drunken stagger he made his way into the kitchen. Glancing over, he confirmed that the bothersome woman was sitting in her preferred spot, where she stared at that box for hours. The fact that she was looking at him with round eyes was of no concern. Women were stupid; they would joyfully watch a trusted toy move all on its own, clapping and laughing the entire time. The screaming wouldn’t start until the attack, just like it had every other time he tried that ploy.

With a burst of agility, he clambered onto the countertop and turned his attention to the collection of knives stored in a block of wood. Withdrawing a large, sharp blade, he studied the edge. It wasn’t a proper obsidian tool, but it should suffice. Turning his attention back to the living room, he found the couch was vacant. A quick scan of the room showed the front door wide open with his quarry nowhere in sight.

With a face devoid of expression, he hopped off the counter and headed for the open egress. Now was not the time for women to develop any intelligence. He needed her dead, and he needed her dead as soon as possible. She could run, but they were linked. He could home in on her presence. In short order, she would no longer be bleeding him of his power; she would just be bleeding.





Hermione could hardly believe the injustice of the system. There was an actual killer doll on the loose, and she was forbidden to read anything on the subject. After supper, she had rushed to the library, only to be told by the librarian, Madam Pince, that the subject matter was not for first-years. Everything even remotely related was in the restricted section, a place Hermione did not have permission to enter. The objects of her desire were cordoned off with a metal grille, behind a locked door. She could see them. She could smell them. She could practically taste them, but they were out of reach. It just wasn't fair.

Her day had been rife with disappointment. Her quest for knowledge had been stymied in the morning by Discord, and now, she found her path barred by a locked door. Furtively, she skirted around the edge of the forbidden area. Her heart yearned for a secret entrance, but her head knew there would be none. A small uncovered vent between the bookcases looked promising, but it was so narrow that anything bigger than a large housecat would have no chance of getting through.

With a sigh, Hermione climbed to her feet and dusted off her robes. This trip had been unproductive. Perhaps she had something in her trunk back home that hadn’t been burned. She could get Philomena to take her and have a quick look. Maybe she would get lucky and . . . Wait a minute!





“I’m telling you this is a waste of time,” Jim said as he stood at his assigned post with his two partners. Normally aurors worked in pairs, but the current rotation had them in groups of three for additional safety. They were currently situated on a small grassy area next to a sidewalk in a less prosperous neighborhood on the outskirts of London. The small piece of land had been enchanted for decades for just that purpose. While muggles had police boxes, wizards had ward plots.

“There’s a killer doll on the loose, and you think this is a waste of time?” Nancy asked, not even bothering to look at her more experienced teammate. Powerful muggle repelling charms kept their presence undetected.

“We haven’t seen any actual sign of him,” Jim countered. “It's just a lot of hearsay.”

“If the director thinks it’s worth the overtime, I’m not complaining,” Neal, the third member of the team, said. “There are worse ways of making a galleon than standing around waiting for a kid’s doll to saunter by.”

“This is so dull,” Jim lamented. “Why couldn’t they assign us to one of the parties wandering around in muggle clothes actively searching?”

“Someone has to man these posts,” Nancy said. “Besides, you showed up in a blue suede suit, hardly what they taught us to wear in training.”

“It was a perfectly normal muggle outfit,” Jim retorted. “We learned about them back in muggle studies.”

“How many muggles have you seen walk by in anything remotely similar?” Neal asked.

“There was that one woman with the really long heels,” Jim said.

“First of all, that woman drew more stares than you’d want in our field of work,” Nancy said. “And secondly, I’m fairly sure she was a he.”

“Now you’re just making things up,” Jim accused. “She looked too good to be a man.”

“She had an Adam’s apple,” Nancy protested. “If you weren’t so busy looking at her bum, you would have noticed.”

“No!” Jim gasped, looking a bit green.

“Don’t worry.” Neal chuckled. “It’s nothing a little Polyjuice wouldn’t fix.”

“Neal,” Nancy growled as Jim managed to look greener.





Yes! That’s exactly what she was looking for. Hermione stood on her hind legs and claimed "Possessed Items and Where to Find Them" from its spot on the shelves. Her swishing tail left swirls on the dust-covered floor as she broke yet another rule. It was for a good cause, and she would bring the book back when she was done. She just had to know what was going on with the doll. To do that, she would turn to her oldest friends: books.

Books didn't care that she was so different from other children her age. They were always willing to share their knowledge. They took her to new and exciting worlds, asking only for a bit of attention in return, and she was more than happy to lavish attention on them. Books were so special! Books made her special!

Now that she knew magic was real, a whole new universe lay before her, ripe for exploration. Nothing as mundane as a locked gate would keep her away from the friends beckoning her. Books! Magic! Hermione! Could there be a more perfect combination? Surely, she had found her . . . Wait, was she starting to glow brighter? It was bad enough that she glowed in the dark, but this was getting ridiculous. She gasped as her hooves briefly left the ground and the glowing intensified. What was going on?





Short of breath, Elisa gasped as she ran down the sidewalk. There was normally a taxi or two parked in the lot at the end of the block; she’d take one to Diagon Alley. The fact that no one else was reacting to the knife-wielding doll chasing after her meant that either magic was involved or she had just snapped and lost the last bit of her sanity. There was a distinct possibility that she’d wake up tomorrow with a straitjacket and a nice padded room to call her own. Until that happened, she was going to make sure that she was going to wake up, period. Making the most of her longer legs, she sprinted for all that she was worth.

Halfway to her destination, she spotted three people standing in a patch of greenery she was positive wasn’t there last week, three people wearing robes and casually holding wands. Now was an excellent time to test for insanity.





“I wonder why she’s running like a mad woman.” Jim said as the trio watched the muggle woman approach their position.

“She’s a muggle,” Neal said, disinterested. “Unless she’s being pursued by a knife wielding killer doll, she’s not our concern.”

“I’m telling you,” Jim snorted. “The doll is not real.”

“She’s coming right at us,” Nancy noted. “Either the wards are failing or she’s a witch.”

Sure enough, the woman recklessly ran right into the warded zone and barreled into the trio, wheezing.

“Are you all right? You look like you had an unexpected run in with a boggart,” Nancy said, moving to help the newcomer, even as her partners put themselves between the woman and whatever might be chasing her.

“We might get some action afta . . . doll!” Jim exclaimed as the wards shredded the notice-me-not charm from the woman’s stalker.

“Reducto!” Neal intoned as his partner summoned a shield for the both of them. The effort proved to be too slow as a flash of silver sent Neal tumbling back even as the spell connected, launching his target back the way from which it had come instead of disintegrating it.

Nancy immediately tapped her wand to her badge and said, “Station 21C, target engaged. Auror down, magical bystander secured. Request backup, healers, and obliviators.”

“He’s real!” Jim exclaimed.

“That was almost comically ironic,” Nancy said shifting to help Neal.

“Comically ironic would have meant Jim were the one with a knife sticking out of him,” Neal managed to gasp as he clutched his shoulder.

At that point, the telltale sounds of apparition could be heard as backup flooded in.





Madam Pince herded the last of the children out of the library. Technically it wasn’t yet closing time, but that was irrelevant. She had already sent messages to several staff members and was expecting their arrival momentarily.

Scarcely noticing how the flustered and dusty, bushy-haired first-year clutched her bookbag, Madam Pince looked back in the direction of the restricted section. It didn’t happen very often, but strange lights from that area were never a good sign.





“Good evening, I’m oooof!” Discord found himself flat on his back being straddled by the one he had come to visit.

Alice had not jum . . . Alice had not started at the sudden appearance of the man. She had been waiting for him to arrive, after all. As soon as he poofed into existence, she had leapt into his arms, determined to give him a proper greeting.

“I see you’re glad to see me again.” Alice bounced lightly in her new position.

“Gahhhh,” Discord smartly answered.

“I do hope your day has gone better than mine,” she said running a hand through his hair; when had she gotten that close? “Draco threw a fit when he found out I transferred his mother to Remus. The little brat invoked last of house privileges and refuses to be part of the transfer.”

“Aaaaaa,” Discord commented. "Who is Remus?"

“Anyway, the Parkinsons invoked a clause to cancel the marriage contract with the Malfoys,” Alice said worming her hands toward his tie and starting to undo it. “Now, I’m stuck negotiating a new one for him, and I have no idea who’d want that broke and disgraced brat.”

“I can help you with that,” Discord managed to choke out, as he attempted to escape Alice's ministrations.

“Later.” Alice smiled down at her captive. “You have other duties to perform first, and I’m not taking no for an answer tonight.”

Discord gulped.





What else could go wrong? Small feet pounded away from the latest confrontation. What else could possibly go wrong?

The woman had gotten help. The woman had gotten a lot of help. Mages were rarer than diamonds. How could she get so much help so fast?

Luckily, they loved throwing that reducto spell. He could reflexively attune himself to the sheer malice contained within the spell and incorporate the bulk of its power as he transformed its effect. The down side was that the new effect was a significant amount of concussive force. Now, his reserves were at a more acceptable level. Now, he had the energy to stalk his now-wary prey. He could hardly wait to reclaim the lifeforce the woman had stolen. He was getting tired of being batted around like a tennis ball.

His mission was complicated by the unexpected appearance of so many guardians. Fortunately, he had been able to keep them from concentrating their forces. Thus far, he only had to deal with groups of three at a time; it looked like the fools were working in teams. While he had been unable to kill any of them outright, he had managed to fend them off enough to escape. How could they see through his "I'm not here" spell? He had to circle ever further from his quarry, agonizingly delaying his quest. It was almost as if they were herding . . . Oh no!

Bursting from the alleyway, he found himself confronted by at least thirty individuals with grim faces and lethal sticks pointed right at him. He immediately pivoted to retreat, only to find a red brick wall where the entrance to the alley used to be. Cursing in a language that none other present could even recognize, he turned once more pumping mana into his hands.

“Fire!” a woman’s voice barked, and the air was filled with colorful and malignant spells. He tried to dodge, but every square centimeter within his reach was blanketed with offensive spells. Once more, he found himself airborne. Many of the spells were of a nature that he could convert it into his own mana, but there were simply too many of the other variety for him to counter. Greedily, he absorbed what he could. His current vessel would not last long, and he needed to squirrel away as much as he could before he lost his anchor to the physical world. Through the miles, he could feel his real body deteriorate and destabilize even further. There would be permanent wounds from this fiasco. Everyone involved would pay. Everyone involved would bleed.

He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound escaped. He would return. He vowed he would return.





“Keep firing,” Amelia commanded her amassed forces. “He’s survived several point-blank spells. Make sure he’s down and stays down”

“Isn’t this just overkill at this point?” a junior auror asked, not stopping his casting.

Moody growled in response, “There is no overkill; there is only going home after work and not going home after work.”

“But he’s starting to look like a squished bug at this point,” Nancy noted.





“So just what am I looking at?” Fay asked as she watched Apple Bloom, Dean and Seamus fiddle with several contraptions in the corner of the common room, “And why is it in the commons instead of one of your dorm rooms?”

“The ‘thaumatic electromagnetic incorporation field’ will extend to the entire Gryffindor tower if we put it right here in the middle,” Sweetie said from where she lay in Magah’s lap as the transfigured unicorn cuddled her like an only child. “This way, everyone gets to benefit from it.” Abigail watched enviously as she tried to imagine the texture of the white unicorn's fur.

“That tells me nothing,” Fay admonished. “What’s it do?”

“This box contains the parts needed to protect muggle technology being used within a certain range,” Dean said, tapping one of the objects. “It also generates electricity.”

“Muggles use ‘lectricity all the time and for everything,” a fourth-year piped up. “We learned that they even use it as medicine.”

“What! No!” Apple Bloom protested. “That would be like using nitroglycerin as medicine!”

“Um,” Hermione said, the instruction manual for the Equestrian technology firmly in her hands, “as a matter of fact, they do use that for chest pains.”

“Are you kidding?” Scootaloo gasped. “Nitroglycerin is the reason we can't use the old storage shed in the east field to get our chemist cutie marks anymore.”

“You got in trouble for attempting to make nitroglycerin in a storage shed?” Harry gasped even as he rolled over to let Terisa rub his belly. “Yeah, I can see why they no longer let you use that shed.”

“We didn’t get in trouble for attempting to make nitroglycerin.” Apple Bloom corrected. “Thar jus’ ain’t a storage shed in the east field anymore.”

“There is no way we could have predicted that rampaging hydra.” Sweetie complained, “How were we to supposed to know he’d choose that night to wander into the east field. It’s not like hydras are known to just show up and say ‘hi’ or anything like that.”

“I don’t know which I find more shocking,” Hemione said, “the fact that hydras exist in Equestria and can wander onto a farm, or the fact that you two let Sweetie anywhere near processing nitroglycerin.”

“Hey!” Sweetie griped, “I’ll have you know, we divided the labor; I was the supervisor.”

“What exactly were you planning to do with the nitroglycerin in the first place?” Seamus asked, connecting the last of the wires.

“Silly Seamus,” Scootaloo said, “you need nitroglycerin if you’re going to make dynamite.”

“And what does this box do?” Fay said, breaking into the conversation and pointing.

“That’s a telly,” one of the older muggleborn boys announced. “If they can get that to work, it will be really wicked.”

“How so?” Percy asked, sitting on a couch, once again next to Magah, monitoring her as she stroked Sweetie.

“We can use it to watch shows, and the news and movies,” the boy replied as the screen on the box suddenly stopped resembling dark green chrysoprase and a small red sprite of a man took center stage. All talk stopped as the entire house gathered around to marvel at the display. There were two attempts to liberate the controller from Lavender’s grasp, but as brave as Gryffindors are, even they learn the value of discretion.





“Molly,” Arthur announced, stepping out of the floo, “I’m home.”

“Arthur!” Molly said hurrying in from the kitchen. “You're home earlier than yesterday. Please tell me they caught the doll.”

“Yes, they got him.” Arthur wrapped his wife in a hug. “Last I knew they were scraping the last of him off a wall. The little blighter put up one hell of a fight, though. Seven aurors and ministry personnel have been sent to St. Mungo’s. He had a thing for sneaking up behind you and slashing your hamstrings. Luckily that’s easy enough to fix with time.”

“He sounds horrid,” Molly said, ushering her husband to the dinner table.

“He was using notice-me-not charms. Once we knew that, we were able to cancel his advantage.” Arthur grimaced. “Whoever he was, he was a powerful wizard. Rumor has it that it was a vessel for you-know-who.”

“No, please no.” Molly gasped.

“The timing is just too perfect.” Arthur sighed. “He shows up just after there is a purge of Death Eaters. He was most likely hiding on the estate of one of his followers, biding his time and growing in power. When they were appraising the properties, they probably forced him from the grounds unintentionally. The rest is history. My money is on the Malfoys'”

“That is frightening,” Molly said pausing on her way to retrieve a meal for her Arthur. “That would mean that we just barely avoided the start of another war.”

“Yes.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair. “That’s why we are going to keep as much of a lid on this as we possibly can.”





“I’m just going to take a quick shower tonight,” Hermione said as the girls started to file into Parvati’s trunk for an evening bath. “I’ve got some reading I’d like to finish before we head to bed.”

“Are you sure?” Lavender said, pausing at the entrance. “You’ve been reading all night. You didn’t even change to be cuddled like everyone else.”

“Neither did you.” Hermione reminded her.

“I was busy.” Lavender huffed, “Someone had to play the game for everyone to watch.”

“There were plenty of volunteers for that,” Parvati grumbled. “You may be a little too much into playing video games.”

“I was just taking my turn,” Lavender objected, “and yours’s and Sweetie’s and Harry’s and Neville’s and Ron’s. You were all more interested in being petted than in playing.”

“That wasn’t petting,” Sweetie protested. “It was mutual tactile emotional bonding.”

The remaining girls all looked at Sweetie then turned questioning gazes to Hermione.

Hermione sighed, “Technically, yes.”

“Okay,” Apple Bloom said, taking charge. “Bath time, then retrieve the colts for bed. Ya sure you won’t join us Hermione?”

“I’m good.” Hermione shook her head, “I can miss a night of conditioner every now and then. I really want to finish this chapter before bed.”

“Okay, come on girls,” Apple Bloom relented and descended into the trunk.





Hermione shivered as warm water cascaded down her body. She had really done it this time. She knew what she had to do, but she didn’t want to admit to being out of bounds, illegally. It couldn’t be helped, though. She was going to have to go to Madam Pomfrey and confess. She had to. She had skimmed through the entire book she had borrowed and there wasn’t a single mention of her condition. There was no telling what it portended. There was no telling how it may have already affected her.

Tears mixed with the water as she once again checked her backside. Whatever had happened in the restricted section had left an immutable mark.





He floated in the place in-between. The energy he would need to make it back to his homeland was going to be considerable. Nonetheless, he did not have many other options. Originally, it had taken decades to lay down a matrix capable of ensnaring a beetle. All that work enabled him to possess a very specific species of insect, native to his homeland. Unfortunately, that insect was not so common in his current location. The few specimens he could sense within range were all caged and pathetic. If he took one of them, his power would continue to be siphoned away as he sat, unable to act.

The only other option he had was his new doll matrix. That was most likely useless. In order for the matrix to work, it would need an object very similar to the initial receptacle. What were the odds that the maker had created two such toys that were similar enough to meet his purposes?

If he could have sighed, he would have. Without hope, he sent out his senses to check for another doll before he would start his journey to his homeland. The time it was going to take to get there and back threatened to have him running on empty.

He had come from an era well before any of the manufacturing practices currently taken for granted. As such, he had no word or concept for mass production. Still, he quickly developed a word to describe it: convenient.





She looked down and smiled fondly at her familiar checkpoints. They weren’t her objective for the night; they merely brought her into the vicinity of that which she sought. Though this was an unfamiliar territory, she sensed that her target was not far.





The spiders were his only company. Forlorn and outcast, he sat on his threadbare mattress. The sounds of the family in the other room sharing their time together tore at his very soul. The longing he felt was too great to be called something as simple as envy. The desire to be loved consumed his every thought. The weight of the depression was almost unbearable. He was worthless. He was unwanted. He was unnatural. He was a freak.

He couldn’t cry. If he did, there would be punishment. He had to endure. He had to make it through another night. He had to . . . no this wasn’t right. This wasn’t how his life had been. He had grown up with the love of his sister and brother. He had family who had cared.

He grunted and sought to impose his will on the evident discrepancies. Lucid dreaming wasn’t uncommon for masters of occlumency; forcing one’s desires onto such an environment was a beginner’s exercise for the discipline. He was, therefore, understandably disheartened when the scenery did not switch from a lonely place beneath some stairs. Instead the reality of the nightmare seemed to strengthen.

Unperturbed, he sat straighter and announced, “I reject this farce of a reality. I am the master of my own mind. I will not be intimidated here.”

“We do not care,” a woman’s voice replied. “Thou hast fabricated this reality. Thou shalt suffer it. We shall have answers and we shall see justice served.”

“No.” he declared, “I reject this. It shall not be!”

With a start Dumbledore sat up in his bed, sweat soaking his night clothes. As coherency returned, he could have sworn he heard the voice whisper, “Thou must sleep eventually.”
> Chapter 41: Realigning, Rough Housing and Revealing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The familiar environs of the headmaster's office brought no comfort to Dumbledore as he sat at his desk. Smiling ruefully, he took in the subtle sounds of plinking, whizzing and tooting that would normally help him unwind after a stressful day. Unbidden, a familiar quotation from Eliot came to his lips. "This is the way the world ends, not with a bang . . ."

Up until the last week, he was certain what needed to be done to avert the impending bloodbath. For decades, he had been positioning his pieces, maneuvering friend and foe alike, guided by prophecies. Now, one seemingly innocuous event had shattered the foundation of his strategy. Like dominoes, the other pieces were tumbling one after another with no end in sight. It was all he could do to formulate a plan to postpone the inevitable long enough to put an alternate in place. The greater good that he and Gellert had envisioned was indeed in dire straits.

Despite the changes that the thrice damned Discord had foretold, Dumbledore was sure he could have cobbled together a scheme to enforce the old prophecy. Harry was to be sacrificed to end the menace that Voldemort presented. After all, what was the life of one child compared to the fate of the entire wizarding community?

Dumbledore took a swig from his office bottle, barely registering the burn as the firewhisky went down. His trump card was gone. There was no way he could get close to the boy, let alone persuade him to join the cause. His latest trip to St. Mungo's was a painful reminder of the sort of power that now protected Harry's interests.

To make matters worse, a new prophecy had been revealed to the wizarding world. It was unprecedented in its scope; never before had a prophecy voided its predecessors. If only he had been there, he could have kept it a secret. How was it that Sybill could have chosen his moment of weakness to overcome the compulsions he had placed? Why had she been in the Great Hall unsupervised? Surely someone must be conspiring against him; fate would have forewarned him.

Of more immediate concern, the political landscape had been rooted with the subtlety of an atom bomb. Superficially, it appeared that he had advanced his cause. Old enemies had been removed while the forces of light had taken their places at the table. However, removing the old foes simply made way for the new, and the new legislators, while dedicated to the same ethos, could hardly be called allies. Those he had under close observation had slipped away; Tom was the most troubling of the lot. Complicating matters, those who had been his steadfast allies were now questioning his methods and motives, forcing him to smooth ruffled feathers when he should be countering new foes. Almost as if an afterthought, his control over Harry had been irrevocably stripped away. Should he attempt anything against the boy, those more powerful than his magical guardian would intercede.

There was still the matter of what, ostensibly, was his primary responsibility, the education of the new generation of witches and wizards. In his absence, Minerva had shown a disturbing sense of independence that threatened to upset the balance he had so carefully worked to maintain. The apartheid between the wizarding and muggle worlds had been established with good reason. He could scarcely fathom the horrors that integration would bring. Muggleborn would simply have to leave their old lives behind, while purebloods would never savor the temptations of the magicless.

Where there was life, there was hope. Although his grand plans for the greater good lay in shambles, he could still salvage the situation. He had been completely reactive over the past week, but now that he had a chance to catch his breath, he could again drive the agenda. However, the road forward was unpleasant in the extreme. He would have to abandon all attempts to influence Harry. Instead, he would have to revitalize the conservative factions, relying on former opponents to preserve the status quo. Surely, he had the influence to temper the ambitions of the new Wizengamot members. With the right guidance, he could let them have their victory while he preserved the wizarding traditions. Concurrently, he had find a way to locate and neutralize Tom and his ilk. But first, he had to find a spell to guard his dreams.

Dumbledore blinked, bringing his office back into focus. He had his head tilted back with a now-empty bottle at his lips. With an indignant snort, he vanished the empty vessel. He had picked the wrong day to give up drinking.





The soft-boiled egg in the gilded cup on Filthy Rich's breakfast table was his way of telling Monday to bugger off. Since they lacked anything even remotely prehensile, eating one with grace was the epitome of earth pony etiquette. It took a good eye, a steady jaw, and complete concen . . ."Good Morning!"

Blinking the yolk out of his eye, Filthy Rich regarded the sight of the wildly-grinning draconequus with well-concealed irritation. It was preferable to have egg on his face than to suffer any of the creature's more creative notions."Good morning, Discord. What brings you to my humble abode?"

“Humble?” Discord looked around at the opulent dining room, “I don’t think that word means what you think it means.” Pointing at the pony's snout, he said, "You have a little something there." The draconequus snapped his fingers, and the egg was transformed into a startled hen who flew off, dropping a fresh egg on Filthy Rich's plate as it made its escape.

Filthy chuckled and motioned to an empty seat. “I’m glad you like it. Please have a seat. My daughter should be down soon, and we’ll break our fast when she arrives.”

“How kind,” Discord commented, taking the seat. “However, I hadn’t planned on imposing on your hospitality. In fact, I shall be breakfasting with a fine young lady shortly. I just popped in quickly to get you to sign on the dotted line here.” He produced an inked quill and a contract with a snap.

“What’s this?” Filthy said, examining the offered paper.

“Is that my marriage contract?” a pink filly exclaimed, darting into the room. “Oh, thank you, Daddy! Thank you, Discord!” Effusively, she hugged both.

“Marriage contract?” Surprised, Filthy took a closer look at the paperwork. “Just a moment Diamond Tiara, let me look at this.”

“Hurry, daddy!” the filly whined, hopping in place.

“I think you’ll find everything in order,” Discord said smugly as the elder pony read the contract.

“Either party can easily negate this, without penalties, if they so decide.” Filthy noted, “Hardly a binding contract.”

“Is that a problem?” Discord asked?

“No, it’s just unexpected,” Filthy said still reading, “This will bypass all the laws Celestia has in place for marriage contracts?" The stallion shot a glare at his daughter. "Diamond Tiara, stop that bouncing this instant.”

“Daddy!” she whined.

“Twilight seemed to be impressed by the last one I drafted.” Discord smirked.

“How does the spirit of chaos manage to be so good with the laws?” Filthy asked.

“My good sir, laws are merely chaos masquerading as order. Why else would we have lawyers?” Discord shrugged. “Besides, I had a friend draw it up; it’s kind of her thing.”

“I would almost say that this is too good to be true,” Filthy said. “As a rule of hoof, when something seems too good to be true, it normally is.”

“And we all know what I think of rules,” Discord countered.

“There is that,” Filthy agreed taking the quill with his mouth. “What it comes down to is if I am willing to take the risk to ensure that my princess has this opportunity. And I’m well aware it’s only a matter of time before the princesses close whatever loopholes you are taking advantage of. Some things you just have to hop on when the chance presents itself.”

“Yeah!” Diamond Tiara pranced around her father as he signed to secure her future.





Monday evening found the Gryffindor herd settling into their routine. Now that classes had ended for the day, they gathered as a study group in the library to complete their homework. Having others to discuss concepts sped comprehension. For the practical exercises, when one herdmate struggled, the rest were quick to pitch in to tutor and demonstrate. To the envy of the other first-years, the herd was finished for the day with plenty of time to spare for rest and relaxation. As they filed back to their tower, Hermione stayed behind. She insisted that she had some independent study she had to finish, and that she would join them later. True to her word, she crawled into bed with the rest of them, but only after arriving late and taking another shower instead of a bath.





In suburbia, Tuesday mornings were rarely pleasant. Just as she had her hands covered in suds, there was a knock on the front door. Sourly, she rinsed off her hands and turned off the faucet. The morning dishes would have to wait. It was much too early for doorstep selling; this did not bode well. She dried her hands on her apron as she went to answer the door.

“Oh,” she said listlessly upon seeing who was waiting, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you. It was only a matter of time.”

“Petunia,” was the greeting she received, “won’t you invite us in?”

Wordlessly, she stood to the side and gestured for the men to enter. Closing the door, she indicated the seats she wanted the two to occupy. Woodenly, she left her guests to make themselves comfortable and made a quick trip into the kitchen. Soon she reemerged with three water glasses and a gallon bottle. A picture of a man in a red coat briskly walking was on the label.

“Isn’t it too early for that?” Remus asked.

“Even if you aren’t going to need it, I know I will.” Petunia placed a glass in front of each of them before taking a seat for herself.

“How bad was it?” Sirius demanded, anger evident in his voice.

Petunia closed her eyes and gave a small hiccupping sob, “She was my sister.” She began quietly,” I hated her for having something I could never have. I despised her for leaving me behind. I envied everything she had accomplished . . . all the wonderful things her life contained. BUT SHE WAS MY SISTER! . . . And, I still love her.” Tears were freely flowing as she curled up in her chair. “If it had been me, she would have taken Dudley in and raised him as if he were one of her own! I wasn’t even allowed to do that! I hate him. I hate him so very much. No matter how much I try not to, I just can't stop. I hate him.”

She sobbed bitterly as the two men looked on aghast. “They,” she started but sobbed again, “they said they couldn’t prove he cast the spells. Promise me that you’ll make him pay. Promise me!”

“We are working on it,” Remus said as Sirius opened the bottle. It was going to be a long morning and one wasn’t going to be enough.





James Tilley was once again manning the service counter when a familiar wizard walked into the Records Department. “Good morning, I’ll be with you in just a second,” he said. Quickly, he annotated an interdepartmental memo. After casting an authentication spell, he charmed the note to fly to its destination in the form of a paper airplane.

Satisfied that the message was on its way, he addressed the newcomer. “How may I help you this morning?”

“Just some more notarizations for you my good man,” Discord said, holding up a stack of papers.

“Another marriage contract?” James asked, accepting the paperwork.

“Why yes,” Discord answered and spent the next couple minutes watching James do his job.

Before long, another wizard entered the Records Department and strode over with purpose. “Mr. Discord,” he said with a nod of his head.

“Saul Croaker.” Discord returned the nod. "Are you not supposed to speak?"

“You know of me?” Croaker asked in surprise.

“No, but I couldn’t let you be the only one who mysteriously knows the names of complete strangers,” Discord replied.

Croaker studied Discord for a second before continuing, “I see that you’re filing your second marriage contract within two weeks.”

“Yes,” Discord confirmed.

After waiting a few seconds to see if the wizard would volunteer anything else, Croaker said, “I see. You’re not the type to beat around the bush.”

“I have been beating the bush a lot recently.” Discord noted.

Croaker gave Discord another odd look. “Yes, well, the reason I am here is because we’ve noted your interest in marriage contracts. We assume this means you have a surplus of women back in your homeland.”

“A fair assessment,” Discord acknowledged.

“Would you be open to talks of maybe allowing some young ladies to emigrate to Britain? We would be happy to integrate new blood into our populous.”

Discord blinked in surprise, “I must say, that is an unexpected proposition. I must confess, though, that the fees and paperwork are a burden for the average citizen.”

Croaker shrugged. "The paperwork is a necessary evil. As for the fees, that's something we should be able to pony up."





On Tuesday evening, Sweetie Belle couldn't decide what was worse, losing her turn at the game console or being summoned to Professor McGonagall's office -- again.

Nervously, Sweetie Belle climbed into the chair in front of the desk of her head of house.

“There is no reason to look so anxious, Miss Belle.” Professor McGonagall never lost her stern expression, but a little of the stress noticeably drained from Sweetie Belle.

“Okay,” Sweetie Belle said as she fixed her professor with a questioning look.

“I called you here tonight to let you know that Arthur will be here tomorrow morning to escort you to the Wizengamot meeting.”

“I thought he was going to act as my proxy for all these meetings.” Sweetie Belle cocked her head.

“He will be, but tomorrow a new minister shall be selected. All Wizengamot members and their proxies should attend as a sign of respect. I know it is all new to you, but I do believe you will be able to manage admirably. I know that you have had a lot of responsibility foisted on you in the last couple of weeks, and I am proud of the way you are handling it.”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “It’s going to be a boring ceremony, isn’t it?”

“Most likely,” Professor McGonagall agreed.

Defeated, Sweetie Belle wilted. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out to make it less boring.”

“Please don’t,” Professor McGonagall pleaded.





Wednesday’s breakfast brought a new and unexpected milestone to the Gryffindor table. The majority of the herd had scarcely sat when Magah made a grab for the most popular platter. “Baa kon!” she gleefully spouted, pulling the dish close and digging in face first.

“Seriously,” Apple Bloom said, glaring at her, “that’s your first word? Bacon?”

“Baa kon!” Magah smiled, stuffing another piece into her mouth.

“After as much time as she’s spent watching Lavender play, I would have guessed her first words to be something like ‘I told you to jump, you wanker.’” Dean commented, “As it is, I count us lucky that she has a bacon obsession.”

“She took all of the bacon!” Sweetie Belle whined, trying to reach around the woman to get at the platter.

“Yup, she’s definitely Sweetie’s unicorn all right,” a third-year Gryffindor boy said as he sat next to the herd. “There’s another platter of bacon right here if you’d bother to look.”

“You know,” Neville said, “you’re supposed to limit the amount of bacon you feed your owl; I’m sure that applies to pet unicorns as well.”

Philomena trilled her agreement from Sweetie Belle’s shoulder, greedily eyeing the bacon.

“You try and take it from her,” Ginny said, gesturing toward Magah. “In the meantime, pass the sausage.”

“Bad unicorn,” a fifth-year girl said, reaching out to bop Magah on her nose. “Don’t eat directly from the platter; use your plate.”

“Gah!” Magah cried, bringing her hands to cover her nose and smearing even more grease on her face.

“Good morning everyone,” Hermione said, making her way over to the Gryffindor table.

“Hermione!” Abigail greeted in return. “Glad you could make it. Did you find what you were looking for? You’re spending all of your time in the library.”

“Yeah, you almost missed curfew last night,” Seamus commented.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bad friend.” Hermione looked down in shame. “But this is important.”

Magah threw a handful of oatmeal at the girl who had bopped her on the nose. “Baaa d!”

“If it’s important, we can help,” Scootaloo volunteered. “What exactly is it that you’re researching?”

“Oh no you didn’t!” The fifth-year girl reached for the yogurt.

“I’m not sure if I should say,” Hermione said. “I kind of brought it on myself.”

“Hey!” Apple Bloom yelled, after finding out that transformed unicorns could dodge just fine. “It’s not even raining out!” She grabbed the scrambled eggs.

“Doesn’t matter if you brought it on yourself,” Harry reassured Hermione. “We’ll still help.”

“You do realize, this means war!” an egg-covered Hufflepuff from the next table over shouted before grasping some tarts. It was at that point that the nutritional content of their breakfast became moot.





“Good morning, Arthur.” Minerva greeted her friend as he exited the floo in her office.

“Morning, Minerva,” Arthur said, brushing the soot off his clothes. “Is Sweetie Belle ready?”

“The children are most likely at breakfast. I am sure that she will be presentable. I told her last night to wear something more formal for today and she does seem to have acceptable fashion sense.”

“Good.” Arthur said, “Shall we go get her then?”

“If I weren’t positive that Molly had already fed you, I would offer you breakfast in the Great Hall first.”

“There isn’t much of a chance of leaving the Burrow without being fed,” Arthur agreed as he followed Minerva out of her office.





“That was wicked!” Ron exclaimed excitedly as the herd left the Great Hall. For once he had more food on the outside than the inside.

“What was with jumping on each other’s backs?” Abagail asked. “Not that it didn’t work well, given Scoot’s aim, Sweetie blocking with a platter and Apple Bloom grabbing everything in sight.”

“It’s just something they do,” Parvati said, wiping fried eggs off her robes.

“I’ve got jelly in my hair.” Lavender complained, “We’re going to have to take a bath now.”

“No!” Hermione panicked. “We’ll miss class!”

“I think the professor will understand if we are a bit late,” Dean said.

“What in the name of Merlin happened here?” The children were startled by the sudden appearance of their head of house, who was glaring at them.

“Baaa un corn!” Magah explained.





The Wizengamot chambers were once again filled beyond legal capacity, prompting the room to expand to accommodate the crowd. Curiously, there wasn’t as much background noise as one would expect for such a large gathering. Instead, there was a general hush as the wizards and witches present ogled at the two spectacles occupying the center of the room. One was the expected pedestal bearing a stone goblet. The blue flames it held were seductive, but not unexpected.

The more memorable spectacle was the little girl on the unicorn. A purple- and pink-haired young girl rode her prancing mount in a circle around the goblet, cheerfully waving at the gathering. It was a mesmerizing sight. She wore pristine white robes that matched the unicorn’s fur perfectly. She radiated serenity and joy. Her very presence brought a sense of peace and contentment to all who watched. The phoenix on her shoulder was just overkill. The singing avian guaranteed the crowd would stay quiet, if only to relish the rare melody.

As the starting time approached, the girl forgot herself. When she had first arrived, she had been nervous over being the center of attention. After parading around, she had subconsciously begun to sing. Blending her voice with the phoenix’s own song came an experience heretofore unknown to human ears. It was as though she were sharing not only her voice, but also her heart. What little noise the crowd was still making ceased immediately. Afterwards, none could say what the girl had sung, they just understood that it had been a song about hope for the future.

Immediately following the song, silence reigned for at least a minute as everyone present savored the last echoes of the harmony. There had been magic in the song, magic and a promise of a better tomorrow.

So began the Wizengamot meeting.

Clearing his throat, Dumbledore struck his podium with his gavel and said, “Good morning my friends, may we have a round of applause for the lovely Miss Belle?”

Instantly, the gathering rose to their feet and a thunderous applause claimed the room.

Blushing furiously, Sweetie Belle waved once more before guiding Magah toward a beckoning Arthur Weasley.

“Now,” Dumbledore continued once the applause died down, “as Chief Warlock, it is my honor to call this special assembly of the Wizengamot to order.”

The people still standing quickly found their seats as the old wizard smiled warmly at everyone gathered.

“As you are all undoubtedly aware, we are gathered here today to choose a new Minister for Magic.” Dumbledore surveyed the assembly, “But first, is there any new business to be brought before the Wizengamot before we proceed?”

Almost as one, the gathering turned to look at Alice Rutter expectantly. She just sat in her seat with a huge grin and waggled her fingers in a wave, before shaking her head.

“I have new business,” a member of the Wizengamot said, finding his feet.

“Ah, Mr. Miller.” Dumbledore said, frowning internally. This couldn’t be good, it looked like change was about commence. “Since you are a member, I must ask you if your new business couldn’t wait until our normal session. I am sure many of the witnesses currently present are here to greet their new Minister.”

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Greg Miller stated. “My new business is actually old business that should have been taken care of ages ago.”

“Can I not persuade you to wait?” Dumbledore tried again. Why was no one listening to him lately?

“No,” Greg said firmly. “I have been reading our mandate, something I’ve recently had access to due to my new position. It has come to my attention that all laws pertaining to the arbitrary segregation of the populous are categorically forbidden by the mandate. I remind the members of the Wizengamot that we have all sworn on our magic to uphold and enforce it. In fact, the original drafters seemed to be concerned that the untitled would attempt to claim the same privileges as the titled.”

A murmur ran through the crowd as some saw where this was heading. Paling slightly, Dumbledore said, “I’m afraid I’m not positive as to how this is significant to our current situation.”

“It means that all laws pertaining to segregating muggleborn, half-bloods and purebloods rights are unsanctioned and must be removed immediately,” Greg said triumphantly.

The murmur that was wafting through the assembly turned into a roar as realization of what was proposed was digested.

While he still smiled on the outside, Dumbledore felt his stomach lurch. The new Wizengamot member had just gone straight for the jugular. While the previous incarnation of the Wizengamot generally agreed that the segregation mentioned was not arbitrary in nature, it didn’t take a seer to realize that the new Wizengamot would not see it that way. All the unique rights of the purebloods would now be under attack, en masse. Dumbledore was well aware that he needed to stall.

“This is indeed a revolutionary viewpoint.” Dumbledore said, striking his podium for order, the magic of the room making him easily heard above the ruckus. “However, I’m afraid it is well outside the scope of this special session and deserves more attention than we can devote to it today. As such, I’m afraid that it needs to be tabled until our next regular meeting. This will give you time to do additional research on the subject.”

“What?” Greg declared in disbelief, “It’s rather straight forward. All these laws need to be struck down.”

“I’m afraid it is not that simple.” Dumbledore shook his head. “If it were so, then all of the previous Wizengamot members would have been bereft of their magic. I must insist that the matter be tabled until our next session.”

The noise slowly died down as attentions began to refocus on the conversation.

“Very well, Chief Warlock,” Greg Miller said sitting down. “We will revisit this at our next meeting.

“Thank you for being reasonable,” Dumbledore said with an approving smile, “I apologize if you feel slighted, but this assuredly is not the time to tackle this issue. We have a new minister to appoint, and he or she will need some time to build their cabinet so that they may properly investigate your concerns. I do hope you can see how this will be in the best interest of government. We need to be made whole, first and foremost.”

“I suppose you have a point.” Greg Miller sighed.

Satisfied by the time he had bought, Dumbledore once again addressed the assembly. “Once again, I ask for any new business.”

A couple of wizards actually started to get to their feet but thought better of it and remained seated. There would be time for new business during the next meeting. After all, they were now well aware that putting their requests through the review process was a curtesy that could be overridden if necessary.

“Very well,” Albus Dumbledore intoned, “now onto the business that you have all journeyed here to witness. Dolores, as the highest remaining member of the previous administration, would you kindly do the honors?”

“Of course, Chief Warlock,” the large woman in pink said, climbing to her feet before waddling over to the goblet with exaggerated dignity. Once next to the artifact, she stopped to smile and nod, acknowledging the gathered warlocks and witches in each section of the audience.

“Ahem. Attention please,” Dolores Umbridge said unnecessarily. “I will now retrieve the name of our next honored minister.” With those words, she held her hand out over the chalice and waited.

The object in question seemed to suck in all the light from the room before it flared and spat out a single orange slip of paper. With baited breath the gathering watched as Umbridge easily caught the paper and read what was written on it. The mask of pleasantry the woman wore slipped off her face to be replaced by a scowl as she stared at the paper.

“No,” she declared, “I refuse to be a part of this travesty!” Angrily she shredded the orange fragment into confetti before whipping out her wand and reducing the confetti to ash.

“Stop!” Dumbledore said, storming toward the goblet, followed closely by some aurors and Director Bones.

“I wash my hands of this farce!” Dolores shouted, storming away from the center of attention even before the others arrived.

With a sigh, Dumbledore swished his wand at the fragments littering the floor, and a restored slip of paper floated up to his hand. Once again, the crowd held their breath as he read. When he did not immediately say anything the tension in the room doubled.

Finally, Dumbledore looked up and said, “It would seem that our next minister is none other than Mister Xenophilius Lovegood.”
> Interlude 4: On the Muggle Side
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason frowned as he updated the evidence wall that he kept hidden behind an oversized Captain Fantastic poster in his basement flat. Any lingering doubts he had about his mother's sanity had been quashed by the events of the past few days. It was bad enough when she started defacing his posters and leaving replacements. While he might have enjoyed the Blackhearts, they were no substitute for Ziggy Stardust or the Pinball Wizard. Things got even weirder when he found that his red-haired collectable suddenly became a model for knitted clothing in pastel colors. This, however, was the last straw. Why in the world would she give such a high-pitched squeal when he had returned from Diagon Alley?

She had nearly ruined years of work. His contact from Diagon Alley, Clementine, had nearly been driven away by that outlandish display. The young witch had been a godsend. Not only had she allowed him to infiltrate, she also had been his guide, staying with him during the entire visit. It was, however, irritating that she adamantly refused to let him explore Knockturn Alley. There would be other days.

He could scarcely believe his luck having such a beautiful companion so freely volunteering her services. He was sure she would reveal the secrets of her world, if only he cultivated their relationship correctly. Regardless of what happened, he was sure he wanted her as a friend. What puzzled him was her unnatural obsession with the "muggle" world. He could not help but return the favor once they ventured on the other side of the wall. She was as naive as an newborn, and he took great pains to introduce her to both the wonders and the hazards of his world.

From that time, Clementine had been a daily visitor. They would compare notes and ask each other about topics the other found to be completely mundane. They would share a simple lunch at his flat after she arrived, and they would have tea at the rickety pub before it was time for their goodbyes. His mum, however, seemed to have gone completely starkers. She would giggle gleefully for no apparent reason when she stole glances at them. What was more disturbing was that had caught her with a box of prophylactics and a small needle. He was positive she was well past the age where she would need such protection, and the two items most definitely did not belong together. He fervently prayed she wasn't going to give him "The Talk" again.

Shuddering at the memory, Jason turned the page of the transfiguration text book and placed it back on the scanner. He had already uploaded the images of first year charms. It was long and tedious experience, but well worth the hassle. If he could tailor his OCR software to recognize the font, he was sure he could fit all of the text on a single floppy.

A knock on his bedroom door provided respite from the tedium. “Come in,” he called out.

The door opened to reveal a smiling Clementine. “Hey Jason,” she greeted cheerfully. “I’m here to watch those videos you were telling me about.” Then, as an afterthought, she called out over her shoulder, “He’s awake Mrs. Holders; I’ll keep him company! Thanks again for the gift!”

Jason could hear his mum's overly enthusiastic reply, “Wonderful, you two have fun. Have lots of fun!”

Jason got up from his seat to usher Clementine into the room, offering her a seat on his bed. “She gave you a gift?” he asked after she was sitting.

Nodding, Clementine smiled and inquisitively held up a small box. “What’s a Trojan?”





Elisa Bates could scarcely believe her eyes as she again looked around her new flat in wonder. After the incident with the doll, she had, more or less coherently, told the story to the Overseer. He had immediately taken charge, arranging for a safehouse and security with a few terse sentences. She now found herself in an upscale neighborhood in a condo nestled in a tower above a bank. The living room alone was larger than the entirety of her old place, but the real secret to the place was a network of strategically located port keys directly linked to Goblin Security. No matter where she was inside, help was just a shout away.

Moving hadn’t taken long. The goblins had sent wizard employees over to shrink and pack her meager belongings. Everything she and Abagail owned was quickly transferred, except for the keepsakes Elisa had consigned to the rubbish bin. The hockey mask from last Halloween was disposed of with prejudice, as were the dolls, the fake rubber axe, and the large plastic skeleton. She still had no idea why or how one of Abagail's toys could turn homicidal, so she didn't want to take any chances.

The more obvious security came in the form of two goblin guards. Each looked more than capable of standing up to a little doll, and they looked much more rugged than the aurors who had fallen victim to it. Finally, Elisa felt some measure of security. The pair proved to be a godsend. They were more than willing to converse whenever Elisa felt like socializing, and they faded into the background when she needed solitude. They wore nasty grins whenever they talked about their society underground, but they were honest signs of amusement. Elisa wrote the creepiness off as a cultural difference.

The surprise they had shown when Elisa had invited them to join her at supper was nothing compared to their reaction when they saw that she had prepared some goblin dishes based on their descriptions. The confused looks they kept shooting her were worth more than a few giggles. Little did they know that they were filling a recently opened hole in her life. The new home might be showy and expensive, but the new companions were priceless.

Sighing in contentment, Elisa sat on her new plush couch and motioned for her bodyguards to join. One sat beside her while the other kept watch on the door. Nodding pleasantly, she picked up the clicker and said, “What’s on the telly?”





The smoke was thick enough to cut with a knife as Mike used the butt of one cigarette to light the next. Rules be damned; he was on a roll. He smiled as he organized his notes on the corkboard. This was the story of the millennium. There was a secret society hiding more or less in plain sight, and he had proof.

Once the initial hurdle had been overcome, everything else came almost automatically. He could not believe how flimsy the deception had been; once he convinced himself of its existence, the pub was as plain as the nose on his face. After listening in, he only had to ask a passing wizard to be let into Diagon Alley. Once inside, he knew his world would never be the same.

A bit of projected confidence was all he needed. No one questioned his presence, despite his obvious muggle appearance. He had the keys to the kingdom, and he had made off with its treasury. The secrets they so jealously guarded would be revealed to all.

The first stop had been a bank. Although the exchange rate had been pitifully small, it had been enough to get him a couple of the gold coins on which their system was based. Far more valuable than the money was the identity of the workers; they were a heretofore unknown species. Proof of their existence would be more than enough to earn him Scoop of the Year. It saddened him immensely to know that this would only be a footnote in his story. He had always known that most legends grew out of facts. Discovering that goblins were real gave him goosebumps. Humans were not alone; this was cause for celebration. The implications threatened to overwhelm his brain.

A helpful witch had noticed the mundane gadgets he was carrying, and she had directed him to a curio shop. What sentimental values those items had was more than paid for in galleons. With a substantial bankroll available, he made a beeline for the book store. He purchased as much reference material as he dared, knowing that he might be discovered at any instant. It was only on a whim that he had bought a subscription to something called the "Daily Prophet". There was no way that he’d actually receive it, but he bought it anyway, just on a lark.

He had spent the entire night securing his purchases and following the directions from the newsgroup on how to leave himself information, just in case the obliviators found him. It was a nuisance having the startup script telling him that he might have forgotten things and to access certain files, but it was well worth the inconvenience. He had the proof he needed to back up his story. Now, he just had to write it.

Smiling, Mike cast another look at the owl on the sill. It was happily devouring the last of the bacon from his breakfast sandwich in the comparatively fresh London smog. The unexpected visitor had brought more fuel for the fire.

Turning from the bird, Mike again surveyed the moving pictures before nodding. He mused, “What’s happening in the wizarding world?”





Breathlessly, Emma nuzzled her husband as they lay on their impromptu nest of blankets on the deep shag carpeting. “That was wonderful,” she informed him as she molded her form closer to his. “It was a whole new experience.”

Dan only grinned wider and lovingly ran his muzzle over Emma’s.

“I’m so glad you thought to ask Hermione for the second necklace.” Emma continued, savoring the attention her husband was so freely giving, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this were the key we need to give Hermione a little sister? That all it takes is a change of form and bam, I'm whole again, and we can have another child?”

“Or a brother,” Dan said, agreeing fully, sweat from the exertion flaking his coat. “It would be wonderful.”

“You know,” Emma said wistfully, “we have a whole new world of magic open to us. Maybe they have a potion or something that would let me carry a new pregnancy to term.”

Dan frowned, the emotion translating poorly on his pony face. “Dear, we can ask Hermione next time we see her, but you mustn’t get your hopes up.”

“I know,” Emma said as she practically climbed on her husband to get closer, “but it’s a hope we haven’t had in a long time. Please let me savor it.”

“I love you,” Dan whispered, holding his wife close. “Never forget that I love you.”

“I love you,” Emma answered. Then with a playful nudge she said, “Now let’s stop being melancholy and do a few more laps around the back yard. Running as a unicorn is exhilarating.”

“We just completed ten laps,” Dan complained, following Emma for some more exercise.

“Don’t be a baby,” Emma called over her withers. “The neighbors aren’t home and we won’t have this opportunity often.”

Smiling, Dan said, “Sure, and I have another question to ask Hermione when we see her.”

“I bet I can guess what it is,” Emma said, pronking along.

Nodding Dan agreed and said, “What’s with the picture of teeth on our flanks?”





She had gone down the wrong alleyway. This would be the last time she made that mistake. Hopefully, she would survive to make others. She was not yet even a teen, only nine. The three drunk men surrounding her didn’t seem to care. She had wandered into their territory, and she was going to pay the toll.

Lurching, one of the men made a grab for her and she dodged out of his reach, right into the grasp of his friend. She opened her mouth to scream, only to find it covered by a smelly hand. Now she had trouble breathing, let alone screaming. Soon there were three sets of hands touching her in ways that she did not want to be touched. She screwed her eyes shut and, with tears flowing, waited for the inevitable.

Without warning, a pair of hands left her body, and she heard a sickening crunch.

Terrified, she opened her eyes and saw one of her attackers laying in a heap at the feet of a strange new man. The scantily-clad newcomer was noticeably shorter than the two remaining assailants, lacking no less than a head and a half in height. In truth, he wasn’t much taller than she was.

The two remaining attackers snarled and lunged for him, intent on avenging their fallen comrade. The first to reach him threw his fist at the smaller man's face. The smaller man did not move, did not even flinch. There was another sickening crunch. Howling, the attacker reached for his ruined fist with his other hand but didn't make it that far, when the retaliation came. In fighting games, it was not uncommon to see someone land an uppercut hard enough to lift the opponent a full body length or two. That character would then get up and resume fighting, albeit with a diminished health bar. In reality, getting hit that hard precludes the possibility of getting up afterwards, as the second attacker quickly learned.

The third and final attacker turned to run. He got all of one step before he found his face engulfed in the palm of the smaller man. There was a muffled scream as the small man brought the larger’s head into violent contact with the ground. Once would have been sufficient; three times was just messy.

Shakily, the young girl stared at her rescuer who was smiling down at her.

“Muito obrigado,” she said, not leaving her knees.

Her savior cocked his head, confused.

“Muito obrigado,” she repeated, still shaking.

Realization dawned on the man's face.

“Enquanto eu ando, ninguém prejudicará as crianças,” he replied haltingly as the Brazilian sun beat down on him from above.

Smiling, he turned and left.

Not wanting to be there any longer, the girl fled the scene and found her way home.

Upon seeing the girl, her mother rushed over, scooped her up and asked in English, “What’s with the blood?”





Emily Smith and her mother Olivia sat at the kitchen table peacefully playing cards. It was an activity that they enjoyed together over the years and they both had many fond memories of their time together.

As the game continued, a popular subject once again came to the fore.

“I can’t believe she’s back,” Emily said, dealing the cards.

“I know,” Olivia said with a bittersweet smile. “When I lost her, I was devastated. A second chance is more than I could ever hope for.”

“Did they ever tell you that she was a ghost at the school?”

“No, they never bothered to tell me that.” Olivia shook her head sadly. “But, since I’m not a witch, it wouldn’t have mattered. I can’t go to their school.”

“Still,” Emily said, “it would have been nice to know.”

“No,” Olivia disagreed, “no it wouldn’t have. It would only have made it worse.”

“I hardly remember her,” Emily admitted, “I should remember my older sister better, but she’s a faded memory.”

“You can make new memories,” Olivia said with a benign smile.

“It’s not fair,” Emily said, her eyes tearing slightly. “We’ve lost so much time with her.”

“I’m just happy to have any time with her at all.”

“How can you take it so calmly?”

“My once-dead daughter has been returned to me.” Olivia explained, “My daughter, who I thought I'd never see again in this life, lives and breathes. A mother should never outlive her children. My Myrtle is alive. I’m not taking it calmly. I’m so happy I can barely move.”

Emily smiled sadly at her mother and said, “Why did you let her return to that school? You lost her to it once before.”

“She no longer has a place in a world without magic.” Olivia sighed, “Keeping her here would do her no good. It would hurt me more than it hurt her; she deserves to follow her destiny.”

Emily nodded sadly and said, “What’s the chance of Amy not wanting to go as well? Will she be lost to us, also?”
> Chapter 42: Toeing the Line
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inside the rustic schoolhouse, a magenta earth pony stood in front of the blackboard as her students filed in from recess. The day had been going very well, so far. The class had managed to work its way through a particularly complicated math lesson with very little difficulty. Surprisingly, Snips and Snails had been the first to demonstrate the basic concepts. She could never tell beforehoof whether those two would be able to keep up with their peers on any lesson; they seemed to be idiot savants, with emphasis on the former.

With a satisfied grin, the earth pony surveyed the foals as they took their seats. She was dejected to see that one of the fillies, who had left in very high spirits, had returned looking like somepony had bucked her puppy, twice.

“Diamond Tiara?” the earth pony asked.

“Yes, Miss Cheerilee?” the pink filly replied listlessly, her ears drooping, reflecting her mood.

“Is something the matter?” Miss Cheerilee prodded carefully. She needed to find what had caused such a reversal without upsetting the filly further.

“It’s no fair.” Diamond Tiara replied. The rest of the foals stopped their chatter to listen in on the conversation.

“What’s not fair?” Miss Cheerilee asked. “Did something happen during recess that I should be made aware of?”

“My butler gave me some news,” Diamond Tiara said looking away from the teacher and staring at the ground.

“I hope nopony was hurt,” Cheerilee said, fearing the worst.

‘No, he just came from Town Hall where my daddy was filing my marriage contract. I told him to come here when it was done so I could make an announcement.”

“You have a marriage contract?” Miss Cheerilee gasped and a murmur wafted through the remaining students. “Did something go wrong with it?”

“No!” Diamond Tiara said, planting her face on her desk with a thud. “It got filed without a hitch.”

“I . . . I don’t understand,” Cheerilee said trotting in place, “How are you not jumping for joy? I know I would be in your place.”

“Randolph saw the Crusaders’ modified herd agreement on the mayor’s desk,” Diamond Tiara wailed.

“Diamond Tiara, you shouldn’t let that bother you. I assume they added Sweetie Belle’s marriage contract colt to their herd. That is not unexpected,” Cheerilee ventured.

“Randolph couldn’t tell,” Diamond Tiara wailed again.

“I don’t understand,” Cheerilee repeated.

“We don’t know the name of the colt on Sweetie’s marriage contract.” Diamond threw back her head and decried to the ceiling, “He could be any of the five colts on the agreement!”

“WHAT!” Cheerilee shrieked. “FIVE!”

“Yes!” Diamond Tiara howled. “The crusaders have five colts in their herd agreement!”

“FIVE!!!???” Cheerilee repeated.

**Thud!**

Silence reigned as the collected students stared down at their teacher.

“Good going, Diamond Tiara,” Button Mash spoke up accusingly. “You broke Miss Cheerilee.”

“What?” Diamond swiveled her head to gape at the colt and waved at the downed pony. “I never laid a hoof on her!”

“Wait a minute,” Silver Spoon said. “Five colts?”

“Yes,” Diamond Tiara moaned.

“Why are we not going to that school?” Silver Spoon questioned.

“I’m not sure,” Diamond Tiara admitted, miserably. “I need to talk to my daddy about that.”

“Um,” Dinky Doo said meekly, “shouldn’t we be doing something for her?” She gestured at Miss Cheerilee.

Snails said, “I asked my mom that when the flower sellers did the same thing. She told me to turn their heads to the side so they won't choke and then leave them be and they’d get up on their own.”

“I don’t know,” Button Mash said. “It doesn’t seem right to just leave her lying there.”

“We could throw water on her,” Peppermint Twist suggested helpfully.

“I think that would just make her mad,” Zipporwhill countered.

“Just let her take her nap,” Snails insisted.

“What do we do for the rest of the class then?” Peppermint Twist asked.

“More recess?” Rumble proposed with a shrug.

“Sounds like a plan,” Button Mash agreed. “Anypony up for some buckball?”

Quietly, the gathered foals courteously left to let their teacher enjoy her much-needed rest.





Scootaloo stood and waved for attention as Sweetie Belle led Magah into the Great Hall for lunch. “Over here, Sweetie!” she called out.

“Hey guys!” Sweetie said, skipping over to them, causing Philomena to spread her wings for balance. “We’re back.”

“How’d it go?” Harry asked, sliding over to make room for her.

“It wasn’t nearly as boring as I thought it would be.” Sweetie admitted, sitting and reaching for the roast lamb. “When they announced the new Minister, it was like everypony couldn’t find the words to express their joy. They were all polite and quiet for the rest of the swearing in ceremony. Once that was over, the people in the press box nearly trampled everypony else in their haste to get the story out. which is kind of understandable since the new Minister came from the press box. I’ll bet they are ecstatic that one of their own was chosen.”

“The new Minister is a reporter?” Parvati asked, transferring some roast lamb and peas onto a plate for Magah.

“Yeah, he was a real surprise, it seems.” Sweetie nodded her head. “Mr. Weasley kept saying that he couldn’t believe it.”

“So, who was it?” Lavender asked.

“I’d sound like Scootaloo, if I tried to say the first part of his name, but the second half is Lovegood,” Sweetie said.

“Luna’s father?” Ginny asked.

“Hey!” Scootaloo complained, “I’m not that bad.”

The whole table looked at her then returned their attention to Sweetie Belle without a word.

“Anyway,” Sweetie said, “where’s Hermione? I’m sure she’d want to hear this.”

“She said she was going to skip lunch and head to the library.” Harry said worriedly, “I think she’s upset over something.”

“Then, why are we here? Let’s go help.” Sweetie said, standing up stuffing some roast between two slices of bread.

“She told us not to worry and go eat.” Dean said, “She was rather insistent on it.”

“Yeah, something's up with that girl.” Seamus agreed. “Apple Bloom grabbed Neville and they went to watch over her, even though she chased us away.”

“I repeat,” Sweetie said, “Why are we here?” She stormed out with Magah and Scootaloo at her heels. The remainder of the herd shrugged and brought the rest of lunch with them as they followed.





Despite being a land of harmony, equine nature would inevitably lead to transgressions that required incarceration. The local constabularies had cells, as did the guard stations and outposts throughout the country. The worst offenders, however, were consigned to the dungeons of Canterlot Castle.

In an apparent irony, the dungeons had the most comfortable accommodations of any cells in Equestria. A casual observer could easily mistake it for a boarding house. The rooms were warm and cozy, with furniture and bedding that would be the envy of the finest hotels. Paintings and tapestries that had been retired from public display adorned the walls, and the doors did not even have locks.

The food was prepared by the castle chefs; prisoners were so rare that the expense of hiring somepony else to cook for them could not be justified. Granted, the most junior and least skilled members of the staff were saddled with that responsibility, but even their simplest dishes were worthy of the finest restaurant in the land.

However, there was no mistaking that this was a cage, albeit a gilded one. The access to the dungeon was heavily warded and guarded. The punishment meted out was from the cruelest source of all, the prisoner's own conscience. To be imprisoned here, one must have not only broken the law, but also offended the sensibilities of one of the princesses. To a prisoner, it was almost like being a recalcitrant child. However, instead of corporal punishment from a disappointed parent, the punishment was the anger of an alicorn.

There were several offenses that the average pony would think serious enough for this sort of punishment. Embezzlement, and simple arson, however, would only see a pony securely away in an ordinary guard facility. Not even wackadoodling was enough to merit such attention. Granted, it took a special kind of sick pony to engage in that depravity, and the gerbils involved were permanently traumatized. However, the princesses had a special hospital for such offenders and a sanctuary in the Royal Gardens for the victims.

The dungeons were reserved for those who did serious harm to a pony. The fact that so few crimes qualified spoke volumes about the ponies' ethics. Murder was on that list, as was aggravated foal abuse. Stallionnapping with intent to molest was most definitely something the princesses wanted to quash.

It was for the last offense that three young mares found themselves sharing a cell. The sheer lack of stallions had driven them to desperation, and now they found they had all the time in the world to contemplate the error of their ways. Their posture told the story; head, ears, and tail drooped. When they first entered, the recriminations had been swift and fierce. Now, however, silence reigned. Everything that needed to be said had already been voiced. All that was left was for the trio to huddle together for mutual support as they waited for the sentence to be set and administered.

The plaintive wail of a harmonica crescendoed, just loud enough to be audible. The dirge reflected the ponies' mood so well that they did not notice it right away.

The first to take note was a pale green pegasus with a flowing aqua mane. “Cumin Bite, Vanilla Lick, do you hear that?”

The pale brown unicorn at her side raised a sorrowful head and said, “Where’s it coming from? We’re the only ponies in here, and the guards prefer playing statue to playing a harmonica.”

“Relax, Updraft,” the cream-colored earth pony on her other side said. “It’s just the draconequus in the corner playing his heart out.”

“Oh,” Updraft replied dejectedly, and all three ponies returned their attention to the floor in front of them to once again wallow in their shared misfortune.

In the corner, said draconequus held up three digits and counted down as he continued to play his harmonica. As soon as he reached zero, all three mares' heads shot up, and they shared confused looks with each other before turning their attention to the newest occupant.

“My but aren’t you a bunch of jail birds,” Discord quipped with a snap of his claw. Where three mares once sat, there were now three startled, fat, and fluffy canaries. None of them made a sound as they continued to stare at Discord.

“I understand you three are in a spot of trouble,” Discord continued.

“Chirp,” one of the bird said in an affirmative tone.

“Since my name’s not Fluttershy,” Discord said with an amused grin, “this conversation is going to be annoyingly one-sided at this rate.”

The three birds continued to stare at him dumbly.

Discord sighed and said, “Alright, you're no fun.” With a snap of his claw, he returned the three to their birth forms.

Once again ponies, the mares threw their hooves around each other and trembled. “Are you here to break us out?” Updraft ventured, little hope in her voice.

“Tsk, haven’t you heard? I’m reformed,” Discord said with a wave of his paw. “I can’t very well go around breaking bad ponies out of jail anymore, now can I?”

“What do you want?” the earth pony of the group asked warily.

“Ah, but that’s the 64,000-bit question now isn’t it?” Discord said, holding his chin as he circled the huddled mass of ponies. “Do you have any idea what Celestia normally does to ponies who’ve done what you did?”

“Ba-banishment,” the unicorn said, still shaking. “She’s going to banish us.”

“Too true,” Discord said, still studying the trio. “Dear Celestia tends to take a dim view when mares such as yourself get over enthusiastic at acquiring a stallion. The poor lad will be scarred for life.”

“We weren’t going to hurt him,” Updraft insisted. “We just . . .” She fell silent for a moment before wailing, "We just needed a stallion in our lives! Is that too much to ask?!" She again fell silent, dejected.

“Well, we all know how dangerous it can be out there for three young ponies like you,” Discord said. “I do not recommend traveling beyond the badlands, they consider ponies property over there.”

Updraft held the two other ponies closer as they all silently began to cry,

“Of course,” Discord said, tapping his chin, “no matter where you end up, the odds of you acquiring a stallion are rather slim.”

“Did you come just to rub it in?” Updraft sniffed. “We already know we’re doomed. Nowhere safe for ponies will allow banished criminals to settle in their lands.”

“I was just highlighting your current predicament,” Discord said. “It makes what I have to offer all the sweeter.”

The three mares locked their eyes on him, feeling hope for the first time in days.

“I can take you somewhere much safer than your current prospects,” Discord continued. "To be fair to dear Sun Butt, though, you still will be banished."

The trio shifted uncomfortably. Cumin said, "We're listening."

Discord gave a half smile. "There, you would each have the opportunity to find a male to call your own. You would each have the opportunity to make and raise your own family."

“What’s the catch?” the cream earth pony asked.

“The catch, my dear Vanilla Lick.” Discord said, “is that it’s going to cost you your hooves and tails.”





Almost the entirety of the Gryffindor house sat in a semicircle around their newest prized possession. They even managed to pry Hermione loose from the library, though she did end up just sitting on a couch reading and refusing to pony up. In a show of pure genius, Fay had at the very beginning insisted that everyone show their completed homework before anyone was allowed to turn it on. This led to the teachers wondering just what had made the Gryffindors emulate the Ravenclaws in their percentage of on-time assignments.

“I said 'jump', you wanker!” Lavender yelled at the screen as she violently shook the controller.

“Wanker!” Magah gleefully echoed, bouncing in place and disturbing Neville, who had been napping in her lap.

Everyone in the room turned to look at the transformed unicorn in surprise.

“I did warn you,” Dean said, shaking his fuchsia head

“Right then,” Fay said. “You did say that the telly can do things other than play the same game over and over. Why don’t we try that?”

“Do you think we can get a signal out here?” a muggle-born boy asked.

“Just how big do you think Scotland is?” another asked.

“It’s not just distance that would cause problems,” the first replied. “It's also everything between us and the station.”

“Don’t worry,” Seamus said. “I already thought of it. We got crystals that relay signals between linked pairs regardless of physical interference. They are even supposed recover the signal if it becomes corrupted. Hopefully, they work on telly stations. I figure we just need to attach an antenna to one and place it somewhere with good reception.”

“Antenna?” Hermione asked, closing her book. “I have a better idea.”

“Okay,” Seamus said. “They’re in Sweetie’s trunk.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said, abandoning her place on the couch. “Come on, Sweetie.”

“I’m going to lose my turn again, aren’t I,” the white unicorn said, following Hermione from the room with Philomena riding on her back.





“Your Highnesses!” A Royal Guard exclaimed as he intruded upon the sisters. “Your Highnesses! The prisoners have escaped!”

“What!” Luna exclaimed, rearing and spreading her wings. “Gather the Night Watch! I shall see that they are returned to face proper punishment!”

“They left a note,” the guard continued, holding up a scroll with his magic.

Celestia took the offering and read aloud. “Dear Tia, I know how much you hate having to banish any of your little ponies, so I thought I’d save you the trouble and take care of this lot for you. Discord. PS. They shouldn’t be harmed and will be out of your mane for good.”

Luna looked at the paper her sister was levitating and asked, “Should we be worried?”

Looking up from the missive, Celestia asked in return, “Was that a serious question?”





Straightening from where she had been loading the dishwasher, Emma smiled at the children who had just entered through the back door. “Hermione. Sweetie. What a pleasant surprise. Hello to you as well, Philomena.”

Philomena trilled a greeting as Hermione bounced over to hug her mother.

“Thanks again for the second necklace Sweetie,” Emma continued with her daughter in her arms. “We do so love them.”

“You’re welcome Mrs. Granger.” Sweetie said proudly.

“What brings you three here on a school night?” Emma asked.

“We’re not staying long.” Hermione said, “We just came to steal the cable.”

“All right then.” Emma said following the two girls into the living room, “Just as long as you leave some for your father. He’d be downright irritable if he had to miss his team playing.”

“I know there’s a splitter in the junk drawer.” Hermione said producing a fist-sized purple crystal. Looking at it critically she said, “Mum? Where’s the duct tape?”





Croaker was proud of the wards that protected his house. It wasn’t a stretch to say that they were unique in the level of protection they offered. With his position, he had access to ward schemes that were unheard of by even the most experienced enchanter outside of the Unspeakables. He had personally designed and implemented every single protection on his home. There were wards to suppress fire and explosions, wards to provide fresh air and water, wards to deflect or absorb spells, and, of course, wards to regulate every known mode of travel. No one could enter his home without his knowledge, be it by floo, apparation, walking, flying, portkey, or whatever could be imagined. Yes, Croaker was the true master of his own . . .

“Hello there,” Discord said from off to the right. “Would you mind terribly if we interrupted?”

Oh well; back to the drawing board.

It was difficult to tell that Croaker had been startled. He calmly turned to his unexpected visitor to find that the wizard was accompanied by three women. A quirky sense of humor was being displayed, as each woman was in a separate cardboard box, with just their heads showing. The cartons were all labelled with the shipping information, as well as all of the caution stickers befitting such precious cargo. Doubt marred the women’s faces and eyes.

“Mr. Discord.” Croaker said evenly, “good evening.”

“Good evening, Mr. Croaker.” Discord said, holding and studying a clipboard “I believe you ordered some unattached young females.”

“I hardly expected a home delivery,” Croaker returned before turning to the three new arrivals. “Ladies,” he greeted.

“Hello,” the three women murmured in return, their wide eyes drinking in their surroundings. Two of them had the peculiar hair coloring displayed by the known women of Equestria. One had aqua hair, and the other had creamy brown with yellow highlights -- not blonde, but true yellow. The third had hair that fell within the norms of blonde but was still striking in appearance.

“Sign on the dotted line,” Discord said handing over the clipboard and a muggle rollerball pen.

Smiling at the women before examining the page, Croaker saw that it was a bona fide delivery receipt for three women.

“This is much faster than anticipated,” Croaker noted. “We’ve not had the time to arrange proper accommodations.

“Did you want me to take them back?” Discord asked innocently.

“No, we’ll manage.” Croaker said, signing the receipt before handing the clipboard back.





Fay and the rest of the Gryffindors eyed the new addition to the telly. It consisted of a purple crystal with a length of wire wound around it, following the spiral traced on the crystal. Duct tape kept the wire in place, and the ends of the wire were attached to the inputs port of what looked like an old tube radio with a multitude of knobs and adorned with a handful of dice-sized crystals. At a table, Seamus, Sweetie and Hermione fiddled with the controls on the device. Stage by stage, the crystals turned from red to green.

“If this works, we should be able to choose twenty channels as keepers,” Seamus said, reading the instructions over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Well don’t keep us in suspense,” Abagail said. “Let’s see what’s on the telly then.”

“All right,” Sweetie said turning the terminal set of dials, “let’s see what we get.”

After a little fiddling, a new picture claimed the telly screen.

“Wicked.” The muggle-born boy cheered, “We get HBO!”

“It’s like a newspaper, only in color,” the seventh-year male prefect said.

“Well, that one’s a keeper.” Seamus said, “Let me lock it in memory.”

“That’s funny,” Hermione mused. “My parents don’t get HBO back home. We don’t watch enough telly to justify it.”

“Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth,” Dean replied, drawing a groan from everyone in the room.

“What?” Dean asked in surprise.

“Nothing,” someone commented. “You’re just currently a little horse.”

“Oh yeah.” Dean blushed, though no one else could tell, “I forgot.”

“Let’s see what else we can get,” Hermione said reaching for the dials.

“CNN!” came a happy exclamation. “We have news.”

“That’s another keeper,” Sweetie noted.

Soon another channel came into focus. “BBC. We’ve got the basics now,” Dean said cheerfully.

“Another keeper,” Sweetie agreed. “We’re on a roll.”

More fiddling brought up yet another channel.

“All right,” the upperclassman muggle born boy exclaimed, “Playboy Channel.”

Apple Bloom tilted her head as she studied the screen. “They need to change the name of the channel. That thar is girls playing.” Then after another glance she added, “Ah kin tell.”

“That one’s not a keeper!” Fay insisted as she twisted the knob with a vengeance.





Discord looked down at the woman in front of him in horror as the water steadily fell, bouncing off the sheaf of paper in his hands.

“Really?” Amelia asked, “Are you serious?”

“No, I’m Discord,” Discord said. “I do believe he is enjoying his convalescence.”

“And you think you’re funny too.” Amelia noted.

“Sorry.” Discord winced. “I couldn't pass up the perfect setup line.”

“I see.” Amelia crossed her arms, drawing Discords attention even lower.

“My eyes are up here,” Amelia said.

Discord snapped his head up. Blushing, he said, "It looks like I caught you at a bad time."

Amelia huffed, "I take it you're here on business?"

“Endowment for the arts,” he let slip. "Wait. I know it's something important."

“I was going to apologize for how I reacted the last time this happened,” Amelia said, “but I’m starting to change my mind.”

As Discord turned to leave, Amelia laced her fingers behind her neck. "Wait!" she commanded.

Discord looked back and froze. Amelia continued. "Since you're intruding on my personal space, I'd like you to take care of a personal matter."

Discord gulped. "Personal?"

With a predatory grin, Amelia stretched. "You know, I think you're trying to show me up, coming dressed so much fancier that I am."

Discord absently snapped his fingers. Their attire was now matching.

Amelia gasped and then smiled, “Good boy, now come here.”





The full moon illuminated two friends who sat on the wild grasses of the moor. One was panting heavily while the other looked at him in concern. They had started the night filled with hope. There was a chance that a major problem might finally be resolved. When the transformation started, both had been bitterly disappointed. After the transformation, they weren’t sure how they felt.

One of them abruptly stood up, wearily eyeing his companion for any signs of hostility as they were bathed in the bright moonlight.

“Remus?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes?”

“Remus?” the first repeated.

“Yes, Sirius, I can hear you. I seem to have retained all of my mental faculties, so the potion isn’t a complete bust.”

“Remus,” Sirius repeated.

“Yes?”

“You’re a goat,” Sirius informed his friend.

“I’m a what?”

“A goat,” Sirius said, “a purple, talking goat.”

Remus stared at Sirius with unnaturally large eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Well, animal identification isn’t my forte,” Sirius admitted, “but I’m positive about the purple and talking part.”

“I don’t feel like a goat,” Remus said, lifting a hoof to study it.

“But you are a goat,” Sirius insisted. “Repeat after me. Baaaaaa!”

“I’m not going to say 'baaaaa',” Remus snarled.

“You just did,” Sirius said with a smirk. “Trust me, you’re a natural.”

“I’m pretty sure goats have horns,” Remus said. “Do I have horns?”

“Nope, no horns,” Sirius replied. “Go 'baaaa' again.”

“I am not going to go 'baaaa' again,” Remus fumed.

Sirius grinned at him in triumph.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” Remus admitted. “But, I think I remember reading that goats have cloven hooves; these are uncloven.”

“So, you’re saying you’re a what? Small deer maybe?”

“No, remember James’ hooves were cloven as well.” Remus shook his head. “I’m not a deer.”

“I can’t say that I paid much attention to his feet,” Sirius said. “They might have been.”

“Offhand, I’d say I’m an ass,” Remus said, shakily getting up on all four hooves. “A big improvement over being a mindless beast though, and the change wasn’t nearly as bad.”

“First of all, no one calls my friend an ass except me,” Sirius said ticking off on a finger, “and secondly, you got something on your arse.”

“What?” Remus said swiveling to examine his flank. He was met with a picture of the full moon superimposed with the silhouette of a howling wolf. “That’s not ominous or anything,” he commented.





Croaker found himself in the extraordinary position of playing host to three strange women. It was too late to arrange for suitable lodging for the night. However, he had two empty bedrooms they could occupy this evening. They didn’t seem averse to doubling up. In the meantime, he could pump them for information.

“Let me get this straight, Updraft,” he said fixing his gaze on the nominal leader, “You were about to be banished from your homeland when Discord offered you the chance to come here?”

The aqua-haired woman clasped her hands in front of herself and nodded, ashamed.

“How do I know you won’t repeat your crimes here?” Croaker demanded.

"We learned our lesson," Cumin wailed mournfully. "Just give us a chance." Her two friends nodded solemnly in agreement.

"You did who knows what and you expect me to just introduce you to eligible bachelors and hope for the best?" Croaker maintained a steely exterior as he read his guests' body language.

“Please!” Vanilla wailed, “You’re our only hope. We’ll do anything you ask of us.” As she trembled, Croaker noted the genuine fear.

Softly, Updraft said, "We don't want our family lines to die with us, but we now know some prices are too high to pay."

“I suppose I can find three young gentlemen to introduce you to.” Croaker relented. Inwardly, he was amazed at how easy it was to read these women.

“We just need one to share,” Cumin said. “We’re a herd.”

“You're willing to share the same man?” Croaker said, amazed. “I must admit I envy the lucky lad.”

“Envy?” Updraft asked, shyly looking up from the floor.

“Yes.” Croaker sat back in his chair and sighed, “With my work, there's no time for proper friendship, let alone any romance. To think some lucky bloke is going to have a relationship with all three of you lovely ladies.”

“You think we’re pretty?” Vanilla gasped.

“Very pretty,” Croaker admitted.

“And you’re unattached?” Cumin asked.

“Well, yes,” Croaker said and was amazed to watch their body language shift from submissive to predatory as they all shared glances with each other.

“No need to introduce us to other males, after all,” Vanilla said with a sultry smile.

“Yes,” Updraft agreed, “we think you’ll do nicely.”

Croaker observed the approaching women. He suddenly realized how it felt to be the only candy bar in a fat farm.
> Chapter 43: It's Not Safe Out There
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deep in the Ministry of Magic lay a realm of mystery. It held secrets untold, discoveries best forgotten, puzzles better unsolved. It was the domain of a special class of witch and wizard. It was the territory of the Unspeakables. It was the first, last, and best hope for the future of wizarding kind. It was also a place of order, and most people were expected to show up for work in a timely manner.

“Rufus,” a hooded figure called out, holding the door open to the office of the coordinator, “Saul sent me a patronus to let us know he won’t be in today.”

Rufus looked up from reading a report. “What? That doesn’t sound like him at all. I can’t remember the last time he missed a day.”

“I know, but it had all the safe words; there was nothing amiss, no hint of imperious or anything sinister.”

“It’s not like he hasn’t built up enough vacation days.” Rufus shrugged. “I suppose he was up all night studying something interesting and forgot to sleep.”

“I suppose, but that’s not what makes it so unusual.”

“Oh,” Rufus said, “you didn’t say anything about it being unusual. What makes it worth noting?”

“His patronus was brighter than I’ve ever seen it before, almost as if he had used bliss itself to fuel it.”





Terisa let her attention wander as the credits for the latest show began to wander up the screen. The wonderful discovery of children's nighttime programming would be something the entire Gryffindor house would remember for years to come. True, Hermione had explained that information was a couple generations out of date and that most of it was fiction, but that made it no less riveting.

There had been a couple interruptions. At eleven, the first years had gone to attend astronomy. Once they had returned, the fifth years had gone to their session. Other than that, it had been a marathon of new information. Currently, the members of the house were all chatting excitedly about the last show. More than one had a sleeping pony in their laps. Come to think of it, Hermione had not taken pony form all week; something was up with that.

Absently, Terisa let her gaze fall on a window and smiled at the predawn light that was shining through.

Wait!

Abruptly, Terisa jumped to her feet and brandished her wand. “Tempus.” She shouted, “Guys! Breakfast’s in five minutes! We’ve been up all night!”





The morning light filtered through the gauzy shade as the resident of the small cottage took his first bite of his breakfast. The gritty crunch of concentrated calcium was off-putting. He spat out the mouthful and demanded, "What did you do to these pancakes?"

“What’s wrong with them?” his companion asked, reaching for the syrup. “I followed the recipe from the book to the letter.”

“Pancakes aren’t supposed to crunch,” his friend insisted.

“I think that’s just the egg shells. The recipe called for three whole eggs.”

Large eyes stared at him in disbelief. “You can't be serious!”

His companion didn’t respond beyond giving a meaningful look and a smirk.

“Right, you’d think I’d stop doing that after all these years. Remind me to introduce you to the muggle concept of legal name changes.”

“I didn’t see you volunteering to make breakfast,” Sirius reminded his friend.

“I’ve got bloody hooves,” Remus said holding up an appendage as example. “Have you ever tried making a meal without fingers?”

“Woof,” Sirius responded.

“Oh, you’re on a roll today,” Remus seethed, pushing his plate away.

There was a flash of green and Narcissa exited the fireplace, worry evident on her face. “There you are Sirius,” she exclaimed, “Since you never got in touch last night, we assumed the potion didn’t work.”

There was another flash and Andi joined her sister. She took one look at her cousin and said, “Sirius, why is there a purple horse at the table, and where is Remus?”

As Narcissa gave into temptation and threw her arms around the little darling, Sirius chuckled and said, “Amazingly enough, your questions are the answer to each other.”





Pearl Cupcake stood behind her display counter and watched the creatures wander by. She was ever on the lookout for two things: potential customers and Draknads. Why Draknads were allowed to mingle with civil beings, she’d never know. The large reptilian monstrosities thought nothing of snatching up the smaller denizen of the city and biting off something important, like a leg or maybe a head. Granted, smaller denizens meant Gruzniks. Every other sapient native was at least twice Pearl’s size. That Pearl was, in turn, twice the size of a Gruznik did nothing to ease her fear of Draknads.

On the other hoof, ponies were nigh non-existent in Bragastian. She and her herd had traveled far to get where they were. They had been especially lucky in Saddle Arabia; when they had been caught there, they were closer to the farther border than the one they had originally crossed. Their captors had actually escorted them exactly where they had been headed in the first place. Banished ponies were not welcome in Saddle Arabia.

Thus, they had ended up in Bragastian, where ponies were more the stuff of legends than anything else. Aside from the occasional Saddle Arabian, they were the only sapient equines around. It was this rarity, more than anything else, that most likely ensured their continued survival, that and the fact that when any creature asked if they were poisonous the answer was an emphatic yes. If Pearl were being honest, she would admit that probably had contributed to all of her limbs being attached more than anything else. It nicely offset the fact that her parents had given her a name that sounded like a dragon snack waiting to happen.

“Why hello there,” said a voice directly behind her, and Pearl leapt over her counter with a yipe in her hurry to get away.

“I do apologize,” chuckled a strange creature, the likes of which Pearl had never seen before. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

“Who are you?” Pearl narrowed her eyes but made no attempt to reclaim her spot behind the counter. “What do you want?”

“My name is Discord. Gather your two herdmates; it is moving day.”





Milo sat at his desk, a smile hidden behind his hand. In the visitor chairs sat his colleague Andromeda (Andi) Tonks, the recently-released Sirius Black, and a painfully purple little horse. Tonks stared longingly at the little cutie while Sirius regarded it with an amused smile. As a healer, Milo had seen the results of many transfigurations gone wrong. That his patient didn't look human was nothing new, but he couldn't help but marvel at how a fierce werewolf had been transfigured into what looked like a little girl's pet.

“Mr. Lupin. I have finished my tests and I have good news and bad news,” Milo said. “The good news is that I can find no trace of lycanthropy left in your system.”

“And the bad news?” Remus asked with a raspy voice.

“The side effects seem to have left you a little horse.” Milo said with a straight face.

Sirius groaned and said, “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

“I wasn’t going to try,” Milo said with a huge grin, “not even a smidgeon.”

“That line's getting to be a galloping gag.” Andi said, hiding her own small grin.

“It's something everyone has to work out of their system,” Remus agreed.

There was a knock on the door and Narcissa entered, followed by one of Sirius’s least favorite people. “I convinced him to come before classes for a quick look,” she said as she ushered the potions master in.

“Good Morning, Professor Snape.” Milo called out in greeting, “I believe you know my patient and his friends.”

“Yes,” Snape said with a dismissive glance at Sirius, “Narcissa informs me that the potion I left for you to test was ingested and produced an unforeseen side effect.”

“That is an understatement,” Remus said from where he had been sitting in a chair.

Snape looked at him without a trace of surprise and said, “Remus?”

“Yes.” Remus waved a hoof in acknowledgment.

“I see the side effects have left you a little horse.” Snape observed.

Silence reigned for a few seconds before Andi said, “I guess you were right, it is kind of mandatory.”

“Hush, Andi,” Sirius said, “Severus just made a funny; this is one to mark on the calendar.”





The last of the night’s fire smoldered in the pit in the center of their compound. She really could not call it their compound any longer; Sugar Star was the last of her herd. Now the lone brass-colored earth pony sat as close to her only source of warmth as she could manage.

The high log walls surrounding her may have protected her from the horrors of the jungle, but they did nothing to protect her from her own memories. They had started as five, five sisters, driven away for having the gall to fill the void that had been eating them from the inside. Nopony would believe them when they tried to explain. Neither potions nor magic could bring any relief to the all-consuming need. Only a stallion could bring blessed relief.

Winter Gust was loved. How could he not see that? Five eligible bachelorettes literally threw themselves at his hooves. He would have wanted for nothing. In all honesty, they had been premature with their advances, but their hearts were in the right place. Why did nopony else understand the irresistible drive that forced their hooves?

They started as five. Celestia would have been kinder to have given them a quick death. Marigold was the first to be taken. Before they had built their palisade, she had fallen victim to a flower, a huge, pony-eating flower. Sugar Star still heard the screams whenever she closed her eyes.

A year later, Blue Stream was lost. One of the unseen jungle predators had taken her. They had given chase for nearly an hour, but they lost track of the beast when their friend's screams were abruptly cut short.

Coco Tail started wasting away during the next season. It seemed that every day, a little more of herself vanished, transformed into pure pain. Her herdmates did everything they could to help, but it was to no avail. Sugar Star was sure it was some sort of parasite that had been the culprit.

Until just last week, Lucky Petal and Sugar Star had been the survivors. They had been out foraging and got separated. Sugar had no idea what happened to her last friend. Only one thing was certain, when the sun was fully up, she was going to go out and look again. Either she’d find her friend, or she wouldn’t bother coming back.

Sugar Star heard a snap, and suddenly there were seven other mares in her compound along with a weird creature seemingly made from several different animals. Sugar stared at them for all of a second before lunging at the nearest, engulfing her in a desperate hug. Tears soon followed.

The lime unicorn she was mauling reached up to pat her on the back with a hoof, “There, there,” she said unconvincingly.

“How . . .” Sugar Star sobbed brokenly. “How did you find me?”

“Celestia has the biometric signatures of everypony ever banished,” a male voice said behind her. It had been years since she had heard a male voice. “Normally they are just used to alert the guard if anypony breaks their banishment. I just appropriated the data and borrowed Celestia’s own power over the sun to power the scanning spell. I don’t think she even realizes she can do it.”

Sugar Star just continued to bawl into the unfamiliar unicorn’s mane.

“Our next stop is not too far from here,” the male voice noted. “Shall we?”





The Gryffindor table was unusually quiet as Professor Snape approached it. Most of the students looked happily half asleep. No doubt they were up late making mischief of some kind. He would have to keep an eye on them

“Miss Bloom,” he said, acknowledging the heavy eater who interposed herself between him and the rest of the first-years. She was one of the few seemingly wide awake. “I require a few minutes of your time. Follow me.”

The girl gulped but followed the Professor from the Great Hall into one of the small side chambers for privacy.

After closing the door and casting a few privacy charms, Snape turn to the girl and said, “I understand you provided Mr. Goodman with a cure for lycanthropy.”

“Yes sir, Ah did,” Apple Bloom said, curiosity evident on her face. Once again, Snape resisted the urge to probe the child’s mind; he was not going to be the first to try that on an unknown species.

“When you requested the potion, did you inform the brewer that it was to be consumed by a human?”

“No?” Apple Bloom furled her eyebrows at him in confusion. “Should Ah have?”

“It would appear so,” Snape said. “For that oversight, I will need you to write a letter of introduction. Take a seat over there; you will complete it to my satisfaction before you may return to your meal.”





She grimaced in pain as she stretched her neck to reach the small steady trickle of water that adorned the rockface near her. This was a stupid way for a pegasus to die. Distracted, she had walked off a cliff. It hadn’t been a long drop, but she had wedged herself between a tree and the cliff. She didn’t dare call for help, there was just too much of a chance that something nasty would find her before her last remaining friend could.

All of the foliage within her reach had been stripped of all greenery. Some of it had made her sick. With water within reach, she was able to last the week. The luck of her name could not last forever though. This was a stupid way for a pegasus to die.

Her eyes must have drifted shut, because the next thing she was aware of was the sound of flapping wings. Snarling she awoke to let every flying scavenger that had found her know that she wasn’t dead yet. To her surprise she found she was looking at a fellow pegasus, a beautiful butter-yellow pegasus with an orange mane.

“Don’t worry,” the vison said, “I’ll get you down.”

“Lucky Petal!” she heard Sugar Star call out from bellow. “Thank goodness you’re alive!”





Rainbow Dash lifted her head from the fluffy cloud she had commandeered for a nap. Somepony had called to her from the ground. Blearily she looked over the side of her retreat and saw a familiar black and white form. “Whassup?”

“How my heart beats with glee. Is that Rainbow Dash I see?” The intruder said, rousing Dash’s addled brain, “With you I must have a word. I am being harassed by a bird.”

“Huh?” Rainbow said rubbing her eyes, “Bird is the word?”

“Bird is the word, that is true. A passenger acquired, I know not what to do.” Rainbow watched her zebra friend point at the rider on her back, “The situation has become most fowl. I cannot lose this owl.”

Rainbow blinked at the bird on Zecora’s back and said, “Did you just rhyme a pun? I think you get extra points for that.”

“I don’t mean to implore. But now is not the time to keep score.”

Rainbow hopped off her cloud to glide down. "You've got mail."

Zecora blinked then took a closer look at the owl on her back, “Can this be, is that for me?” she paused a second and had another thought. “Though I should have gotten the notion. After all, I had a phoenix request a potion.”

“Who.” The owl said, once again offering a leg with a letter attached. It sounded more than a little peeved.

“What does this entail? Who uses owls for mail?”

“Humans do apparently.” Rainbow said landing in front of Zecora, not bothering to hide her yawn.

“It seems my reclusiveness has not been ideal. Since when are humans for real?”

“You’re about two weeks behind the curve.” Rainbow said, watching the angry owl wing away, “So, what does it say?”





The scent of this cottage was unmistakable, as was the the welcoming aura projected by its owner. “Hello, Fluttershy,” Discord said to his friend who was smiling up at him. “I do not mean to be rude by rushing you, and I know I told you I would always come when you called, but I am in the middle of something extremely delicate.”

“I won’t hold you long,” Fluttershy said. “I just wanted to make sure we were still on for tea tomorrow and ask you if we could have a couple more of those wonderful rings you made. I can only take mine off in human form and that makes it hard to lend to my pony friends.”

“But of course.” Discord snapped his claws and seven rings popped into being, “A pony can just hold these in their mouth and will the change. Now I am very sorry, but I have to run.”





Cutie Bee plodded along as she did every day. If she had the strength to spare, she still would not feel much spirit emanating from the ground below her. It was a hard pack circular path, long devoid of anything remotely alive. It had become the sum of her existence, forced as she was to forever tread upon it. Cutie and her two herd sisters were attached to a capstan which powered the pump that pulled life-giving water from the depths. Hour after hour, day after day, she walked. Hope had long since fled.

Her ribs were easily seen through her sparse coat. At one point, she may have been a brown pony, but it was hard to tell anymore. There had been a time when her mane meant the world to her; that time was long gone. All that was left was to put one hoof in front of the other. Sadly, Cutie had it slightly better than her sisters, she never had a horn to be sawn off. There would come a time where she would be allowed to lay where she stood, and she’d receive a meager ration of food and water. If she refused to eat, they’d force it down her throat. Little sleep would follow, then it would be one hoof in front of the other once again. She hadn’t even been allowed to touch a herd sister in longer than she could remember.

The sound of a muffled sob drifted through her consciousness, and she became aware that she was surrounded, surrounded by ponies accompanied by a strange creature, the likes of which she had never heard of before. She continued walking, no longer capable of hope.

“Stop! Just stop!” A voice wailed.

Cutie continued walking.

“Oh, sweet Celestia, no!” she heard another voice cry and she heard the sharp snap of a pair of claws. The sudden disappearance of her harness surprised her so much that she actually stopped moving, only to have Silversong run into her from behind. A dream come true, she could touch her herdmate once again!

“Hey!” Cutie heard her owner yell, followed by running feet as he advanced, whip held ready, “Get away from my property!”

Again, there was the sound of snapping claws and her owner was entangled in heavy chains., more than were strictly necessary to hold him. With limbs bound, he toppled over and skidded to a halt.

Dully, Cutie watched an apricot earth pony charge the mass only to turn at the last second, pulling back her hind legs. Roughshod hooves found their mark.

*Clang!!!*

Cutie’s owner disappeared into the distance.

The apricot pony turned to the strange creature and demanded, “Bring him back, I need to do that again.”

Cutie saw that it was he who was snapping his claws, and her owner was suddenly back in the same spot, still covered in chains even as he bled.

*Clang!!*

“Again!” the apricot pony demanded once more.

*Snap*

*Clang!!*

“Will that suffice?” the strange creature asked, pulling a pair of binoculars out of nowhere.

“Is he still breathing?”

“I think so,” the strange creature answered.

“Then buck no, it won’t suffice.”

*Snap*

“Fault Line!” Cutie heard another pony shout out in a commanding manner.

“What!” the apricot pony yelled.

“Let somepony else get a turn in.”





Professor McGonagall was walking down the hall conversing with Professor Sprout when they spotted a large group composed of students from every house huddled together. They were standing around just before an intersection with looks of shock on their faces, and every now and again, one would peek around the corner before snatching their head back.

“What’s going on here?” Professor McGonagall questioned after being able to stroll right up to them without gaining any attention.

As one the group turned to her and made shushing motions.

Eyes widening at the sheer audacity, McGonagall repeated more quietly, “What is going on here?”

“Professor Snape is talking to a woman,” an elder Hufflepuff girl stated.

“I fail to see how that warrants . . .” Professor Sprout started.

“And she’s smiling,” the Hufflepuff finished.

“What?” McGonagall asked and moved some students out of the way so she could peek around the corner herself. Just as described, she saw the Potions professor standing a good way down the corridor talking to a woman. She wore a strapless black dress that showed off her chocolate brown skin, and her hair was up in a large, striped mohawk, of all things. Most importantly, she did appear to be smiling.

“How long?” McGonagall asked, pulling her head back.

“Just over an hour now,” one of the Gryffindors said.

“Did one of you happen to slip her a cheering potion or something?” Sprout asked, unable to believe her eyes.

“That’s natural as far as we can tell,” a Ravenclaw said.

“Polyjuice?”

“He hasn’t drunk anything for over an hour,” a Gryffindor observed.

“Does anyone know who she is?” McGonagall asked.

“No clue, but from what we’ve been able to tell, she always talks in rhymes. Maybe she’s one of those America rappers,” a muggleborn Hufflepuff girl relayed.

“Do you think he’s going to pull a Flitwick?” a Gryffindor girl asked.

“I don’t know; this is Professor Snape we are talking about here.” a Ravenclaw boy said. “But can you imagine how much easier he would be to deal with if he actually got lucky?”

“Mr. Greyson.” McGonagall absently admonished as she rolled the situation over in her mind. She wasn’t alone as the crowd also entertained the concept.

“We can’t let him muck this up,” a Slytherin seventh year asserted, wringing her hands.





One of the dedicated healers for the department stuck her head in Rufus’ office just as he was preparing to go home for the evening.

“Sir?” she asked questionably.

“Yes Heather?” Rufus replied.

“Sir, I just thought I’d let you know that earlier I got a patronus request from Mr. Croaker. It seems he had run out of pepper up potions and wanted to know if I could send some over to his residence. I thought it was fishy, so, instead of sending an elf, I delivered them in person. I am keyed to his wards, after all. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that he probably won’t be coming in tomorrow either.”

Rufus frowned, “Did he tell you that?”

“No,” the healer shook her head, “call it an educated guess. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go send an elf over with some fluid replenishment potions as well as something for rug burns.”





“Severus, good evening.” Professor McGonagall said, striding down the hallway toward her target with Professor Sprout once again at her side.

“Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, good evening.” Snape replied, forgoing his habitual half sneer, something that almost made the two women stumble in surprise. “I’d like to introduce you to Zecora, a fellow potions enthusiast.” He said, introducing his guest.

“Hello, Zecora,” Professor Sprout said. “I do hope that you are enjoying our school.”

“Greetings and well met; this visit I won’t forget. Although, I came expecting a workday, I’ve found that I am indeed enjoying my stay.” Zecora said with a smile.

“Marvelous,” Sprout smiled in return. “We simply insist that you stay for supper.”

“I must admit that at the present, the offer of a meal sounds most pleasant.” Zecora accepted.

“Good, good,” McGonagall said and gestured for a seventh-year to come forward. “Marcy here would be glad to take you somewhere you can freshen up, if you would be so kind as to follow her.”

“Your hospitality is most kind,” Zecora said then nodded to the student. “Lead on if you don’t mind.”

The three professors watched as she was led away. As soon as she rounded the corner, Snape turned to his colleges and said, “What are you two . . .”

McGonagall said, "This is what the muggles call an 'intervention'."

Snape groaned. "I was having a most delightful conversation with a colleague who is actually competent."

Sprout added, "We're going to help you get to know her a lot better."

"My personal life is my own," insisted the potions professor.

"You're not going to get very far looking like that," observed Sprout.

"Butt out!"

McGonagall replied, "Lily would want you to be happy. We're here to help. Think about it Severus. When was the last time a woman took personal interest in you?"

Grudgingly, Snape sighed. "All right. I'm listening." Glaring in the direction of the wolf whistles, he shouted, "And that's quite enough out of you lot!"





Croaker threw on a robe and went down the stairs to find the cause of the commotion. The sudden sounds of a small mob were more than enough to draw his attention. At the top of the stairs, he stopped to behold the large group of women crammed into his living room, the majority of which sported the distinctive hair coloring of Equestrians. Calling out an expansion charm, he made his way down the stairs.

“Good evening, Mr. Croaker,” Discord said from where he leaned against the fireplace. The wizard seemed to be in a grim mood. “I had started collecting some more women for you. However, circumstances have made the effort more involved than I had originally anticipated.”

Croaker looked at the condition of a few of the five score women before he hurried over to the fireplace and grabbed some floo powder. After calling out the destination he said, “Heather, disaster protocol, medical, medium. We need help now.” The women were all quiet, watching him with worry evident on most of their faces.

“What happened to them?” Croaker growled as the department’s healer emerged from the emerald flames. Heather gasped and turned back to the flames, directing the other healers as they came through.

Discord sighed. “I had thought to look for more individuals that deserved a second chance. Things on the outside turned out to be rougher than I had first guessed.”

With an internal curse, Croaker let his practical side rise. “Are you telling me that all these women are criminals? Am I to unleash them on the ignorant public?”

Discord gave a sharp laugh before saying, “You will find that the crime these unfortunates have committed does not even warrant a slap on the wrist in your culture. At most you would have probably only have spanked them for it. There is nothing in this transaction that you should find to your disadvantage.”

“This is inhumane, Croaker pressed.

“Less so than your own Azkaban,” Discord countered, “but you will not hear me condoning it.”

Croaker looked over his shoulder as healers began the triage process. Some of the immigrants looked perfectly healthy, while others looked closer to death than not. “Will there be more?”

“According to the records, there are still twenty-two groups I need to check on.” Discord promised, “I shall not rest tonight until afterwards.”





“Those robes have to go. I brought a silk set, and we’re about the same size.”

“What about the clothes underneath? He doesn’t look like he put much thought into those either.”

“I’ll transfigure them.”

“What about his undies?”

“He’s on his own for those.”

“Who brought the shampoo?”

“Will one bottle be enough?”

“Better make it two just to be safe.”

“Does anyone have any decent cologne.”

“I have the stuff my sister got me last Christmas.”

“I repeat, does anyone have any decent cologne?”

Snape gave a silent scream.
> Chapter 44: Pro Forma
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saul Croaker surveyed his living room. If muggle fire codes on occupancy were to be believed, he was staring down the business end of a major infraction. Everywhere he looked, there were women congregating in groups. Every Unspeakable had answered the call for assistance, interviewing the immigrants and entering them into the system for proper processing. Upstairs, his second spare bedroom had been repurposed as an impromptu infirmary where twenty of the women received urgent care from the healers. The rest of the newcomers, however, were happily talking and answering the interview questions as best they could.

Croaker briefly shut his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. To say things were not going according to plan was an understatement. The Ministry had a budding crisis on its hands, and Saul had already identified three major issues.

The most immediate concern was the threat to personnel. A mere ten minutes into the response, he had lost one of his healers. Silently, he chastised himself. He should have recognized the threat long before it appeared. The young lad had been practically dragged upstairs by a quartet of healthier-looking Equestrians. There was no mistaking his smile, leaving Croaker to hold no illusions that he'd be seeing the lad any time in the next twenty-four hours. With any luck, the child gate at the base of the stairwell would prevent further loss of personnel.

The next major issue was the heredity of the women. This was sure to enrage the pureblood faction; the Equestrians were not even human. While he would normally not look a gift horse in the mouth, the effects of a sudden influx of ponies into the wizarding gene pool were completely unpredictable. Despite dealing with bizarre and counterintuitive matters for all of his professional life, this situation taxed his credulity to its limit. Dimensional travel was supposed to be impossible, but the stories from the women were chillingly consistent. Equestria was not an island nation; it was a country in an entirely different dimension.

The means by which the ponies cum women's arrivied underscored the third issue. They had all been brought by Discord. His ability to completely bypass wards already spoke of an immensely powerful wizard. The fact that he could traverse dimensions with a large number of passengers put that ability to shame. He was even able to perform what appeared to be a permanent transfiguration in the process without even looking the least bit fatigued. Mentally, Croaker did a quick bit of arithmancy. The picture that came to the fore was so bizarre that he was sure that he had made a mistake. He recalculated and derived an even more outrageous result. He gave up after the fourth iteration. There was simply no quantifying the potential menace. He firmly placed Discord at the top of his list of wizards not to upset, pony or not.

Without a doubt, the upheaval of the Wizengamot was going to be nothing but a footnote compared to the changes about to come.





The observation level of the astronomy tower had been converted into an intimate dining room. That is to say, everything had been removed except for one small table, two chairs, and an absurd number of floating candles. There had been one small incident which resulted in the practical application of the aguamenti charm followed by some fire resistance charms, but otherwise, the preparations had gone off without a hitch.

The occupant of one chair looked across the table at her escort and said, “With form and artistry your students have a knack, but when it comes to subtlety, there is a lack.”

"Yes, they are being rather exuberant,” Snape said. “I was not even aware that Mr. Godfrey could play a violin, let alone that well.”

“We seem to have caused quite the stir.” Zecora grinned. “Tell me, often does this occur?”

“No, this is a singular incident,” Snape replied. “I hope it’s not ruining the meal for you. I still don't know which Weasley twin sang 'Salut, Demeure Chaste et Pure'.”

Zecora chuckled and said, “Relax, their spirit I do not find at all rude. For truly, I enjoy the company and food.”





The air of competition lay thick in the air as Elisa and her guards sat around the butcher block table in the well-appointed kitchen. Each was aware of the stakes of the struggle and not one of them was willing to back down. According to the very nature of the goblins, there could be no quarter given. When a contest was presented every effort was exerted to win. Victory was to be had or shame was to be borne.

Across from the lone human, her goblin opponent carefully studied the rectangular pieces of stiff paper he held. Then with a triumphed grin, he looked directly at Elisa and demanded, “Do you have any threes?”

“No,” she replied with a shark's smile, “go fish.”





Heather had commandeered the library to treat the three worst cases that she had been presented with that evening. The majority of her patients, despite initial appearances, could be treated with potions and some rest. In contrast, the three she now faced had been traumatized to the point she had almost mistaken them for victims of Azkaban. Only one of them showed any hint of independent thought. The others would barely go beyond answering with a "yes" or a "no". Sadly, they were truly broken. Heather could only see one viable option.

“Cutie Bee,” she said to the one lucid woman, “I am going to have to remove memories of the last nine years from you and your friends.”

The emaciated woman with sparse brown hair looked back at her without any comprehension. Heather could very well have told her that she had to remove all the meat from her bones for all the difference it would have made.

With a sigh, Heather cast a few silencing charms to keep in the ruckus that was sure to follow, and her assistant carefully poured out three servings of a calming draught. With determination, Heather pointed her wand at the worst of the lot and intoned, “Obliviate!”

Over the years she had witnessed the spell cast more times than she could remember. Every time before, she could see the light in the target’s eyes dim slightly as the effects took hold. This time it was drastically different. Eyes widened, and what was dull became once again filled with sapience. The woman with striking white hair took one look at Heather and scrabbled backwards over the back of the couch in which she had been sitting. She landed with a thud before rolling awkwardly onto her stomach. This was when she noticed her own hands and the screaming commenced.

“Shhh. Shhh,” Heather soothed, trying to get the woman’s attention. “Silversong, I need you to calm down and listen.”

Somehow hearing her own name over her screaming, Silversong snapped her gaze toward the strange creature and howled, “What have you done to me?!”

“I know this is alarming.” Heather said, keeping her hands in front of herself to show she meant no harm, “My name is Heather and I am a healer. I'm from the government, and I'm here to help.”

“What have you done to me!?” Silversong demanded again, all but curling up into a shaking ball.

“I know this is hard. I just removed the last nine years of your memories. It’s going to take you a little while to adjust.”

“Why would you do that? What did you do to my hooves? Where is my beautiful tail?”

Heather’s assistant came around the other side of the couch with a cup of calming draught in his hands.

“Here, Silversong,” Heather said gesturing to her assistant. “We have something to help you adjust. This is a lot to take in, but I’m asking you to trust us.”

Silversong looked at the proffered cup but did not take it. “What are you?” she asked shakily.

“My name is Heather. and I am a witch. I need you to drink this potion. The stress for losing almost a decade is bad enough; I cannot have you going into a coma because of informational shock.”

Silversong weighed her options for a second before reaching out to take the cup. When she saw that it wasn’t her hoof she was reaching with, she snatched her hand back toward her body and whimpered.

“Here, let me help,” Heather’s assistant said kneeling and holding the receptacle for the terrified woman to drink.





“Mr. Discord,” Croaker said upon the arrival of the wizard and fourteen more women, “I need to have a word with you before you continue.”

“Can it wait?” Discord asked impatiently. “I’m working on the last of the oldest cases.

“I must insist.” Croaker said, leading Discord into his kitchen for some privacy.

“What is so important that it cannot wait?” Discord asked.

“I need some critical details,” Croaker said, “like, if and when we can expect them to revert to being ponies. I’m afraid to say that there are members of my society who will not take kindly to non-humans being introduced into our culture.”

“You needn't worry about that,” Discord said dismissively. “They are now one hundred percent human.”

“Are you telling me that you cast a spell to permanently transfigure these women?” Croaker asked, his respect for Discord’s power rising.

“Not exactly,” Discord said. “Is now really the time for Dimensional Travel 101?”

“I’m afraid it is,” Croaker said. “I have to protect the wellbeing of my people.”

“Very well,” Discord said, sitting in an overstuffed lounge chair that had not been there a second ago, “I suppose that I can take some time to allay your fears. How much do you know about dimensional travel?”

“Not much I’m afraid.” Croaker, not to be out done, conjured a matching chair. “Just theories stating that there are other worlds out there, mere inches away but forever out of reach.”

“I suppose that, in a nutshell, is accurate.” Discord produced a large meerschaum pipe. “But that is like saying there are a few drops of water in the ocean. Why, just in the few inches you mentioned, there are a multitude of directions you can travel. I am not talking up, down, left or right. There are yunko or renad, lounfly or dranly, yesterday or tomorrow, gasno or espeic, just to name a few. The thing to remember is that there is cross contamination due to, for lack of a word you’d understand, movement.”

“Movement?” Croaker questioned as he watched Discord blow a few bubbles out the nose of his expensive-looking pipe.

“Weather patterns would be a better description.” Discord shrugged. “The point is stuff from spot A moves to spot B all the time. Well, actually, that is relative. It happens all the time on the macrodimensional scale, not so often on the microdimensional scale. For the most part, this is harmless. A cup of air from one place deposited on another, water from a stream mixing with a foreign ocean, etcetera. Sometimes it is more noticeable: a truck load of bread suddenly falling on desert nomads desperately in need of a meal or your planet’s moon deciding to take a jaunt three seconds over, leaving your planet without a tidal system. And then there are the major occurrences like a zombie population suddenly on a world that doesn’t have a clue about magic or maybe the dreaded cubic meter of antimatter from nowhere.”

“What does that have to do with the women not reverting back to ponies?” Croaker asked, making sure they didn’t get off subject.

“You see, some beings don’t like the idea of the recipient worlds being stripped of life as a result of a transfer, so they set up a network to regulate the minor naturally-occurring transfers from causing too much damage. In short, antimatter now gets shunted to worlds that are made of antimatter. Zombies meet with zombie eating plants, more often than not. You get the idea. What is most relevant here is that the infrequent sapient being gets rewritten on a quantum level to match the populous of the destination, not that it is hard to override these safeguards. Why, just the act of traveling back and forth makes them assume you know what you are doing, and they will ignore you. You can also send a message to be left alone, or a different one to target and concentrate the effect. Do this and, voila, no more ponies; you have conveniently normal witches instead.”

“That does sound a little too convenient to be true,” Croaker opined.

“You would not say that if you were suddenly confronted by a cubic meter of antimatter. Trust me when I say that such a situation is uniquely motivating.”





They were happily gathered in a normal-looking muggle family room. It had been ages since Andi had her closest family members so close. Now she had Sirius and Nissy nearby sharing family time with her husband, Edward, and their daughter, Nymphadora. Making the occasion even more memorable, Nissy had brought her beau. Needless to say, Nymphadora had been ecstatic to be reacquainted with these people she had not seen since she was a little girl. Though, in truth, Andi was sure that Nissy was more than a little jealous of the attention Nymphadora was lavishing on Remus.

“Who’s a pretty, pretty pony?” Nymphadora cooed as she brushed out his mane and tail. “You’re a pretty, pretty pony. Yes, you are, oh yes you are. Mum, would you transfigure a few more pink bows for his hair please?”

Sullenly, Remus looked at his best friend and said, “You could stop laughing and help me you know.”

“Can’t . . . breathe.” Sirius gasped holding his sides. “By . . . Merlin . . . I . . . can’t . . . breathe . . .”

“I’m starting to think we should have gotten her that pony she wanted when she was ten,” Andi’s husband Ted commented, enjoying the show.





“This is the last of them,” Discord announced, popping into existence with three women. “The rest are happy where they are and refused my offer.”

After putting down the scroll on which he had been recording all he had learned that evening, Croaker walked over to inspect the newest arrivals. Two looked to be in their mid-forties and the third looked to be barely out of her teens.

“Good evening, ladies.” Croaker said, “Please allow me to be the first to welcome you to Britain, your new home.”

The two older women beamed with happiness at the announcement while the younger looked around warily. She set her aqua eyes on Croaker and asked, “Discord said he was collecting mares who had been banished. Though I wasn’t in Equestria, I wasn’t banished. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No,” Croaker grinned at the leery young woman, reassuringly. “We are happy to have you here. Miss . . .” he trailed off, fishing for a name.

The woman studied him for a second as she seemed to debate on how to answer the question, “Fizzlepop. My name is Fizzlepop Berrytwist.”

“What a lovely name.” Croaker said, holding out his hand in greeting, “If you give us a chance, I’m sure you’ll be happy here.”

Fizzlepop contemplated the extended appendage for a few seconds before gently placing her own hand in his, “I haven’t been happy in a very long time.”





The Slytherin dormitory was supposed to be a sanctuary, providing comfort for its members. However, what had been a haven was now a charnel house. The physical comforts were still there, but the last two weeks had brought tragedy, catastrophe, and disaster. Draco Malfoy was no longer sure how he should feel. One seemingly-innocuous event had triggered a chain reaction that had collapsed the very foundation of his existence like a house of cards. The bedrock of his beliefs had been smashed to smithereens. The letter that lay on his bedspread was a mere pinprick compared to everything else that had happened. There was no denying that he had every right to hate the world.

He was not supposed to be the head of House Malfoy, not yet. Without warning, his father had been taken from him, murdered by that woman who had stolen the Malfoy fortune. He hadn't even been given the chance to say goodbye; there wasn't even a body left to bury. How could the wizarding world even consider that goblin's spawn to be a hero? Lucius had been a fine, upstanding citizen, champion of the purebloods in their quest to promote their obvious superiority over the mudbloods. His father was the real hero. Now, there was no one to protect the undeniable rights of the purebloods. Now, there was no one to keep the upstart mudbloods in their place.

It wasn't enough that the Ritter harlot had taken his father from him. She uprooted his mother from her rightful place and pawned her off to some mudblood for who knows what. His father hadn't even been dead for a month, and his sainted mother was now doomed to be defiled, forever tainted by a man who did not deserve to even be in her presence. The was no justice in this world.

He raged at his impotence. He could do nothing to save his mother. Fortunately, he was able to avoid her fate. That harlot had tried to turn him over to the mudblood as well, but Draco had protections. While he was the last of a disgraced noble house, he was still a member of a noble house. He had rights, and he intended to exercise them to the fullest extent possible.

He knew he would not be the last of the Malfoys. Wizarding law forced that slag to find him a proper woman to marry. With a proper pureblood witch at his side, he would return the Malfoy name to prominence. He would carry on his father's great work, as would his sons, and his sons' sons. The law was clear on this matter; there was no possible way for even her to fail.

Surely, the universe must be laughing behind his back. There was absolutely no way this should have been possible. It started off so well. He had a new marriage contract. His betrothed was a rich young girl. Things went downhill from there. There was no way her family could be respectable; who in their right mind would name their daughter after gaudy jewelry? There was no way the girl could be a pureblood; her family simply did not appear in any of the wizarding directories. There was no way the girl could even be aristocracy; there was not even the hint of a title. If he interpreted the clues correctly, that lame excuse for a witch was trying to fob off some poor peasant on him. There was no way the girl could be even remotely attractive; the universe was far too cruel.





“Something is obviously bothering you,” Parvati said from Hermione’s right side. She and the rest of the herd had parked themselves in the library, trying to get Hermione to open up. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

“I,” Hermione was sitting at one of the tables, surrounded by her friends, “I just have to find an answer.”

Sweetie Belle flipped the cover of the book Hermione had been reading and said, “'Magical Maladies'? This sounds serious.”

“If I don’t find something by Saturday, I’ll see the school nurse,” Hermione promised.

“I think you’ve been sitting on this too long as it is,” Lavender said. “We can see that it's eating at you.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you worry.”

“Well, we are,” Dean insisted. “Whatever it is, it's stopping you from ponying up.”

Hermione sighed, unshed tears filling her eyes, "I’m going to get in trouble for this, maybe even expelled. It's best if you all don’t get involved.”

“Nonsense.” Apple Bloom hissed, “We told yah we’re in this together."

Hermione frowned and wilted, “Please, just give me until Saturday. That’s all I ask.”

“Hermione,” Sweetie Belle started.

“Please,” Hermione said again.

“All right,” Apple Bloom said, “ya have until Saturday.”

Scootaloo added, "Then, we all go. We're a herd."





Amelia Bones sat in a comfortable wingback chair as she basked in the warmth of the hearth and listened to the report from her second in command. It was yet another late night, and bags were clearly visible under Rufus Scrimgeour's eyes as green flames wreathed his head. This time, the floo system was serving double duty for both communications and heat.

“According to the Unspeakables, there are no traces of magic in the remains. They said if they didn’t know better that they’d swear the doll had been nothing more than a muggle’s toy. Even the residue from the spells we used to destroy it is mis . . ..”

Right in the middle of the sentence, the floo fire died out, leaving behind a perfectly ordinary, cheery fire. Amelia threw aside her blanket and grabbed a scoop of powder from the box on the mantle. When she tossed the floo powder into the flames, there was a brief green flash before the flames reverted to normal.

Sighing, Amelia cast a patronus and said, “Rufus, detain everyone who is in the floo department as well as everyone who has visited within the past hour." With that, she rose and gestured for others to follow. Eight aurors perfectly hidden by disillusionment charms followed their leader out the door.





Dolores Umbridge cocked her head as she heard a cuckoo call thrice, hiccup, and call thirteen more times. Now was the time. The farce that the Ministry had become was going to learn the error of its ways. It was with good reason that purebloods had additional rights. Anyone who tried to change that was an enemy to the wizarding world. Greg Miller had put himself on the top of that list; his criminal actions to strip purebloods of their birthrights at the last gathering of the Wizengamot made him the perfect target to show the wizarding world the consequences of such a travesty. His death would be nasty, messy, and prolonged.

Silently, Dolores signaled her strike team. The first step was to erect the anti-apparition wards. The signal had shown that their contact had already disabled the floo. There would be no help for the heretics. There would be no escape. It was now time for Miller and his family to pay the price for his transgressions.

Like angels of death, Dolores and her team silently glided across the front lawn, setting down in formation in front of the door. With a nod and a smirk behind his mask, the lead attacker banished the front door, tearing it to toothpicks as the frame vainly tried to hold it back. Wordlessly, the small army poured into the waiting family room, bent on havoc and homicide. Intoxicated with anticipation, Dolores hadn’t noticed that the man in front of her had stopped dead in his tracks until after she had bumped into him and knocked him to the ground.

With a gasp, Dolores beheld the head of the DMLE standing behind a shield, which had easily deflected the shrapnel from the door. With a smirk, Madam Bones said, “I’m sorry, but the Millers are in another castle. I’m sure that I can keep you entertained.”

“H . . . how?” one of Dolores’ team stuttered, raising his wand into an attack position.

“And you,” Bones said, looking right at Dolores. “You do know that the Death Eaters never wore pink?”

Dolores snarled behind her mask and raised her own wand threateningly.

“Regardless, you are here to do harm to a member of the Wizengamot for political reasons. That’s treason; it will be the veil for the lot of you,” Bones continued, unimpressed by the wands pointed at her.

“Ava . . .” one of Dolores’ group started, and the spells started flying. There were aurors obscured by disillusionment charms on either side! Showing an unprecedented flash of insight, Dolores threw herself at the front picture window. For most people, this would have been an act of futility; the polymer pane could stop small arms fire, and an ordinary person would have bounced off and rolled back into the room. As advertised, the pane stayed intact as Dolores stuck with the force of a stormy sow. The frame, however, was not up to the task. Dolores flopped onto the front lawn even as spells sailed over her head.

From the supine position, she whipped her wand toward the house and screeched, “Bombarda!” The spell collapsed the facade and threw up a choking cloud of dust. Dolores waddled toward the ward line as fast as her plump legs would allow, her pink-clad posterior waving obscenely. Behind her, she heard someone banish the wall to get a clean shot, but it was already too late. Wheezing, Dolores gasped the trigger for her portkey, and she was gone.





Madam Pomfrey left the back room as the wards informed her that she had a visitor in her clinic. Putting on a motherly smile, she strolled over to the sixth-year Hufflepuff prefect who had entered. “Hello Mr. Mayfield, is something the matter?”

“There is a good chance,” the prefect answered. “A member of my house overheard the first-year Gryffindors in the library earlier. Apparently one of them has something wrong with her that’s worrying her enough to read a book on magical maladies, but she’s afraid of getting in trouble and is putting off visiting you.”

A frown chased the smile from Madam Pomfrey’s face. “Thank you for coming to me. I will not abide such nonsense. Please go to the Gryffindor prefects and have one bring her right here without delay.”





No one was paying attention when the portrait opened to admit a visitor. All eyes were glued on the drama unfolding before them. The tension permeating the room was thick enough for a pegasus to walk on.

“Go on, listen to the bloody crab.” George growled.

“Too right, you’re worse than Snape; kiss the girl already!” Fred added.

“You have a telly?!” The shout echoed through the common room and the occupants turned to see the Hufflepuff prefect storm into the chamber, “How can you have a working telly? We can’t have a telly. Muggle stuff doesn’t wor . . . Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee you’re sooooooo cute!”

“Hey!” Dean complained from his new position in the prefect’s arms. “No grabbing ponies!”

“Would you guys please keep it down!” Terisa barked. “We’re missing the song!”





Fay maneuvered a sullen-looking Hermione into the castle’s healing ward. The younger girl cringed with every step, certain of her doom. There was no way they would let her stay on as a student. Next to her were Harry and Scootaloo; apparently, they were not going to let her face danger alone

“Don’t look so down,” Fay said. “She’s not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” Hermione whispered.

“Well, it’s about time you showed up,” Madam Pomfrey said casually walking up to the group. “Thank you, Miss Dunbar. You may leave. Take these two with you.”

“We’re staying,” Scootaloo said and Harry nodded.

“Not tonight,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Respect your friend’s privacy.”

“She needs us with her.” Scootaloo insisted.

“I can see that you care for her. Good. In the future you will do well to remember that sometimes you have to betray your friend’s trust if you suspect that their health may be in danger. Tonight, you have forfeited the right to be by her side; you should have brought her to me as soon as you thought there was a problem. Return to your dorms and let me do my job.”

‘But.” Harry started.

“This is not open for discussion.” Madam Pomfrey said before addressing Fay, “Miss Dunbar, please see that these children make it back to where they belong.”

Hermione stammered, "I . . . I'll b . . . be all right."

Fay formally curtseyed before leaving and dragging her two reluctant charges with her. Tearily, Hermione watched as her friends mouthed, "All for one."

"Well then, behind that curtain with you.” The nurse looked down at the remaining girl. “I expect you’ll be wanting some privacy.”

“Yes ma’am,” Hermione said glumly before hurrying to comply.

After pulling the divider closed once again, Madam Pomfrey turned to Hermione and demanded, “What could possibly make you think it was all right not to come to me when you have a medical problem? Books are no substitute for experience.”

Hermione hung her head in shame and said nothing.

“Well, you’re here now; out with it,” Madam Pomfrey said.

“Um.” Hermione fidgeted from where she sat on the exam table. "I . . . I have a problem. I'm not sure what to do about it."

“I am going to have to ask you to be a little more specific,” Pomfrey said to the distraught youngster. “Miss?”

“Granger,” the girl replied sheepishly. “I seem to have acquired a couple of unusual marks.”

“Oh?” Madam Pomfrey moved forward to wave her wand over her newest patient. “What kind of marks?”

“They look like books, crossed by a pair of wands,” Miss Granger said.

“And, where are they?” Pomfrey asked. A frown passed her lips when she recognized an anomaly in her scanning.

Miss Granger replied in a whisper.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” Pomfrey said, backing up a step. “You’re going to have to speak up.”

“They’re on my bottom,” Miss Granger repeated a little louder.

“That makes our next course of action rather obvious, wouldn’t you say?” Pomfrey asked.

In short order, she had the girl lying on the table with the marks exposed. “I can’t say that I’ve seen their like before,” she commented, once again scanning with her wand. “How did you get them?”

“I don’t know,” Miss Granger admitted. “They just appeared.”

“When?”

“Beginning of the week.”

“What were you doing when it happened?” The girl visibly flinched at the question, so Madam Pomfrey said, “Listen, we cannot have students hesitate to get help when they need it because they are afraid of getting in trouble. That is why anything you say stays between us, unless it is a danger to others. I neither give nor take away points. Understand?”

Miss Granger nodded her head and said, “I was getting a book in the library when it happened.”

“Getting a book?” Pomfrey asked. “I assume you were wearing your robes at the time. How do you know that’s when they appeared?”

“Um,” Miss Granger said. “There were these lights.”

“Lights?” Pomfrey said with a frown, “Were you near the restricted section when this happened? Maybe at the time of the incident?”

“Yes,” Miss Granger admitted.

“Were you, perhaps, in the restricted section when it happened?”

“Maybe?” Miss Granger admitted.

“Were you in contact with any books when the glowing started?”

"'Possessed Items and Where to Find Them'," the girl said.

“That book seems to be missing. It has our dear librarian a trifle annoyed presently.”

“It’s in my bookbag.” The admission came in a whisper.

“I’ll see that it is returned.” Pomfrey nodded. “Now, did you cast any spells to get into the restricted section? Take a potion of some kind maybe?”

“I climbed in through the vent.” Miss Granger said, tearing up.

“Of course, you did.” Pomfrey muttered, “Change forms for me. I thought that Filius had brought me all of the ponies for a checkup. How was it that you were left out?”

“It’s a new skill,” Miss Granger said and shrunk into the form of an adorable unicorn filly. “I’ve only been able to change for a couple days now.”

“Born human?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Were you a pony at the time of the light?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I see the marks are on your pony form as well, but they don’t appear to be causing any complications.”

Hermione let out a sigh of relief at that news.

“You know, I dare say that you would probably glow in the dark. You are a much more striking shade of orange than our Miss Aloo,” Madam Pomfrey said, running her hand over the marks to look for irregularities. “And these seem to be part of your coat, not at all like the tattoo appearance they have in your human form.”

“What are they?” Miss Granger asked with a small shudder.

“I’m not sure, but all my scans show that they are not malignant. They seem to be blending perfectly with your own magic. In fact, I think they were caused by your magic, maybe triggered by something in the book you mentioned. I’m afraid that I will have to review the tome myself and maybe consult with some colleagues of mine. The good news is you are not in any danger. If I were to make an educated guess, I’d say these are beneficial.”

“I’m not going to be expelled?” Miss Granger asked.

“Not for this,” Madam Pomfrey said, “but don’t expect to be able to enter the restricted section in the same manner again.”

“Awww,” Hermione groaned

“And keep these marks just between us for the time being.” Madam Pomfrey ordered, “I want to do some research on them first before you start giving your housemates ideas.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione said. As she hopped from the table, the spring in her step was unmistakable; the weight of the world had been taken from her shoulders.





This was no place for the faint of heart. Rumors were that even hardened criminals were eaten alive here. The large man strode purposefully through the darkened streets, daring all who might attack. Although he was not truly a giant, he towered over the Asian natives; his size alone would dissuade all but the most foolhardy. The aura of menace that he projected, however, was enough to stop all but the most determined. Although all eyes were on him, he seemed to disappear as he ducked into a small shop. Most of the locals didn't even notice the tiny storefront; they just seemed to ignore it for some reason.

The interior was the polar opposite of what the facade had promised. The room seemed larger than the building itself. Curios from the Orient and beyond were neatly displayed in glass-faced cabinets, with ample room to view from all angles. In a corner of the shop, an ancient oriental woman sat at a loom, methodically weaving the finest silk cloth. She looked like a character from a picture book, complete with elaborate silk kimono and cloudy, sightless eyes. Without turning, she called out in perfect English, “What you seek shall be the death of you.” Then, as if she had said nothing important, she returned to her task.

The man, looked at her back and sneered, showing half the teeth in his mouth. Before he could reply, a voice next to him said, “You should listen to what she says.”

Looking down, he saw a small Asian girl staring up at him. She eyed him with as much concern as one would give an ant.

“Girl, I don’t have time for games. I was told that this store has a certain item I require. My gold is good, so show me whom I have to see to make my purchase.”

“It would not be wise to ignore words of wisdom,” the girl replied without shifting her stance.

The large man took a step toward her, looming with his impressive height. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the stone gargoyles lining the walls crouch as if to pounce, and he definitely heard something chitter in the rafters above him. Wisely halting his advance, he growled, “What I do with my property is my own business. Do you have the item or not?”

The girl pulled a necklace out of her pocket and examined it with emotionless eyes, “A pendent that can force a phoenix to obey your commands for a limited amount of time. No good can come from this.”

“The phoenix won’t be harmed; his presence is needed for a ritual, nothing more,” the man said, acutely aware that there were four more gargoyles taking up threatening poses.

The girl deposited the pendent on a table before turning to walk away, “The world will be a better place without you, I think. Place my gold on the table, then leave. The pendant brings only death to those who would use it.”

The large man casually completed the transaction. "That is where you are wrong. This time it will take death away."
> Chapter 45: Walking Nightmare
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

He could feel again. He could hear again. He could smell again. The transfer was complete; he had a new body. The journey back to his homeland would not be required after all. He did not even try to fathom how lucky he was. It seemed almost impossible that there could have been another vessel so similar to the one that had been destroyed, but his magical senses had managed to lock onto it before he released his spirit from the old one.

This new form was still quite unfamiliar to him. With a beetle, he could tell exactly where he was. The senses on this new body were just too foreign to allow him to geolocate. However, he could still sense his own mana quite clearly. The extraneous female was within a few hour's travel. Before night came again, he would reclaim the power she had drained from him.

He opened his eyes, only to be greeted by darkness. Where was the love? What sort of monster would keep a beloved doll hidden in the dark? In his time, children kept their dolls close or left them on their beds.

As he processed his senses further, he realized he was pinned down by something soft and heavy. Had he needed to breathe, he would have been smothered. With an impatient snarl, he sent a pulse of raw magic upward, dislodging what was holding him down. As he struggled to sit up, he heard a muffled crack, and he found himself pinned by even more weight.

His hunger was even more biting now. That blast had cost far more mana than he could presently afford. This new body was simply too unfamiliar for him to use it to store mana. He would have to be patient and allow his spirit to settle into its new home. Although he had more power than before he had been ambushed, it would just be wasted unless he could store it for future use. He would have to suffer the slow, steady drain on his power for a while longer.





A bewildered man sat in a highbacked chair in front of his office fireplace. The rosy hints of dawn that bled past the curtains were an unfamiliar sight for him; the efficiency of his normal morning routine allowed him to sleep in much later than this. What happened last night, however, had upset the balance in his life, denying him the rest he would normally be enjoying at this hour. Something had changed; something had left a mark on his very soul.

As a master of occlumency, he was aware of every nuance of his mind and his body. As he meditated, he quietly winnowed through conflicting thoughts and disharmonious feelings. He had to root out what had roiled a normally-placid spirit. He had to resolve this disruption.

For as long as he could remember, his life had been a predictable series of disappointments. All that was left to him was his work. He had his duties. He had his obligations. He had to keep up appearances, even though this life corroded him from the inside out. He did not enjoy what he was doing; he was simply competent at it. He was a master of his craft; that secured his current position.

That was not to say that he was without ambition. Revenge would be his; he would keep his promise. Step by step, he had secured everything that he thought he needed, everything that he thought he wanted. He knew in his heart that all hopes he had of happiness had died over a decade ago. He knew there could never be anything to fill the hole that had been torn in his life -- until last night.

She had kissed him on the cheek. Before climbing into the pouch strapped to that owl's breast, she had kissed him on the cheek.

He was no hormonal child, swooning over every opportunity to propagate his line. He was a master of occlumency, master of his own mind, master of his own body, master over any of his base desires. No mere infatuation could defeat him; he would not fall victim to the same weakness that had claimed countless others.

She had kissed him on the cheek.

Though he had never indulged them, he was perfectly capable of sating his vulgar instincts by means physical or magical. There would be no repercussions even if he were seen patronizing those who were paid to bring satisfaction. There was no need to brood over what might have been, what might yet be.

She had kissed him on the cheek.

He was acting the fool. He had better things to do with his time. He would not let himself be distracted by nonsense.

“Lily would want you to be happy.” The memory came unbidden to his lips as he recalled the words of his colleague.

This was insanity. He had seen too many succumb before. What had he even been thinking to have gone as far as he had? Why had he agreed to having supper?

She had kissed him on the cheek.

He would not let himself be hurt again. The pain had almost been unbearable. He could not survive a repeat performance.

He was a fool.

She had kissed him on the cheek.

Before he had nothing, now, he had hope for . . . something.





“Wake, my love. It is time to start the day.” The musical voice in his dream did its utmost to drag him into reality.

“Dunnwanna,” Filius mumbled, refusing the grip of wakefulness.

“Oh, did I keep you up too late?” the voice mocked. “Shall we be less adventurous on school nights in the future?”

“Nuuguukkyuuevrnght,” Filius disagreed, and forced his eyes open.

“Good morning,” the voice softly greeted him.

"Good morning, Paola,” Filius finally managed with a smile. “It still amazes me to be so lucky to wake to such a dream.”

“Flatterer,” Paola whispered in his ear.

Filius tilted his head and responded to her nonverbally.

After a minute, Paola pulled back and said, “No more of that now. We have full days ahead of us.”

“Oh?” Filius said, not rising from where he lay, still half asleep.

“You’ve got classes to teach, and I need to return the artifact to the elders and inform them of my new status.

“You need to tell them that you’re with me now?”

“No silly, I’d already sent them an owl when that happened,” Paola said snuggling close to Filius. “I need to let them know I’m pregnant.”

Filius Flitwick’s eyes shot wide open. He was finally awake.





Dressed for the day, Andromeda Tonks threw a pinch of powder into her fireplace and called out a destination. Satisfied with the green flames, she knelt and stuck her head in.

“Severus?” she called out.

“Yes, good morning, Andromeda.” Andi was surprised that her target was sitting in a chair not far from the fire.

“Good morning, Severus,” Andi said. “How are you this morning?”

“I am . . .” Severus seemed to stop and consider for a second before finishing. “. . . well. Please, feel free to come through.”

“Thank you,” Andi said, stepping out of the flames into Professor Snape’s domain. “I won’t take much of your time this morning. I was just wondering if you had made any progress on our little pony problem.”

“As a matter of fact, I have consulted with the brewer, and we have discussed several options.”

Andi couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was wrong. “Did you come up with a solution?”

“We came up with several,” Severus Snape replied. “We identified a multitude of complex and ingenious elixirs that would be guaranteed to return Lupin to his original form.”

“That’s wonderful,” Andi said. No, not wrong, but different.

“The least involved would take a mere three weeks to prepare.”

“Oh?” Andi didn’t seem distraught by the news. “As long as there’s an end in sight. I could stand to watch Remus suffer through Nymphadora’s attention for three weeks. You should have seen her last night; she had him done up in pink ribbons. Nissy nearly had a fit when Dora gave him a bath.”

“However,” Snape said as he leaned forward in his seat, “we have decided to cheat. I have in my possession a ring that, when held in his mouth, should reverse the transformation. I am willing to lend it to you for a copy of your memories of the incident you have just described.”

Was that a smile? Befuddled, Andi looked at Severus. “I’m surprised you’re not making him suffer through the three weeks.”

“I promised someone I would get the cure to him with all due haste,” Snape admitted. “The memory would be a bonus.”

“You have a pensieve?” Andi was fairly certain that Severus had smiled, what was going on?

“It just so happens, I borrowed the headmaster’s last night to review some memories.”

“Okay,” Andi said cautiously. “It’s a deal.”





Intent on breaking her fast, Apple Bloom led the herd toward the Great Hall. Within throwing distance of their destination, she heard a professor call out her name. Turning in surprise, she saw their potions teacher approaching with a wide grin.

Wait. What? Apple Bloom took a defensive stance and growled, "Changeling."

“Luna!” Scootaloo said loudly, “Please cut it out; this isn’t funny.”

“Miss Bloom,” Professor Snape said when he drew near, “fifteen points to Gryffindor for bows in hair.” With those words, he swept by in a flurry of billowing black robes.

No one moved, and breakfast was forgotten. Every student who had been in the hallway gaped in the direction the potions professor had just departed. There wasn’t a closed mouth in sight, and several jaws needed to be picked up off the floor.

“Ow!” a Ravenclaw student shouted, breaking the silence. “Don’t pinch me! You’re awake!”

“Someone needs to go check the thermometer in hell,” another student suggested.

“What just happened?” Ginny asked out loud.

“Luna?” Scootaloo asked in a hopeful whisper. “Okay, you got me. Now please, make it stop.”

“Bay kon!” Magah insisted firmly, looking in the direction of her next meal.

Silence reigned once more.





The school office that had once been his sanctuary brought Dumbledore no comfort. There had been no rest, no respite. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to maintain coherent thought. Every time he closed his eyes, he was transported to the same place. What was this tiny cupboard under the stairs? Why did all the spiders take such perverse interest in him? There was nothing in his vast library of magic that helped. Every spell he tried had no discernable effect. Worse, the dreamless draught only ensured that he slept through the night. The nightmare returned, regardless of what he did.

Nonetheless, he still had his responsibilities. The new Minister had requested an audience, and the hour before breakfast was the least disruptive time in the headmaster's schedule. Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder whether he had stumbled into a new nightmare. This was the last person he would have imagined in that post.

“Good morning, headmaster. Sorry to wake you, but I have two things to ask of you today.”

Dumbledore sat up with a start, looking at the man seated across from him. “Good morning to you as well, Xenophilius.” Dumbledore gave a fatherly smile and let the twinkle enter his eyes, “I’m only too happy to help. How may I be of service?”

“Sanguis Lactantem mites,” the new minister said to him with a serious frown.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” Dumbledore said, keeping up his smile.

“There is a Sanguis Lactantem mite outbreak,” Minister Lovegood said. “We simply must have everyone checked.”

“I’m sure you are over reacting,” Dumbledore said, “I’ve seen no signs among the students that would suggest any infestation, and the staff have their own daily decontamination.”

“That’s good, but we won’t know until it’s too late, and the entire school is infested. I insist that we do a full physical on every student.”

“That would be an untenable workload for our poor Madam Pomfrey,” Dumbledore said.

“She will have help,” Minister Lovegood returned. “St. Mungos will be sending some of their staff over to assist. They will arrive just after lunch.”

“Such an undertaking would greatly disrupt our routine,” Dumbledore argued. “It would not be in the best interests of the students.”

“Sanguis Lactantem mites would be worse.”

Dumbledore sighed to show his disapproval. “Very well, we shall do as you ask.”

“The second matter is of a more personal nature,” Lovegood said, not even acknowledging his victory. “My new duties are very time-consuming.”

“Yes, I dare say that they would be.”

“As such, I have less time to give my daughter the attention she deserves. I am aware that you admitted the Weasleys' youngest a year early because her core was mature enough. I’m asking that you do the same for Luna.”

“We are two weeks into the school year.” Dumbledore reminded him.

“Luna already knows most of the first-year material. I promise that starting late will not hinder her.”

“I’m afraid at this rate, I am going to have to rethink the wisdom of admitting students a year early.”

“That’s fine, as long as you do it after you admit Luna. I need her to be looked after while I’m looking after the country.”

“I am sure something can be arranged,” Dumbledore said. What was one more student in the overall picture?

“Oh, and I just thought of one more thing.”

“Yes.” Dumbledore said, thinking of the headache potion he had in his desk drawer.

“Amelia tells me that it’s hard to find applicants because so few wizards have their Potions N.E.W.T.”

“I can see where that would be a problem.” Dumbledore said with a small frown.

“It seems to me that we would have more available if students with 'exceeds expectations' could take the class and seeing how we are only two weeks into the term we could make that happen.”

“Severus will only accept students who have received 'outstandings',” Dumbledore calmly explained.

“It is not his call to make. Either see that he accepts 'exceeds expectations' or find another potions master who does.”

Dumbledore frowned and put some steel in his voice, “He has my utmost confidence that he can properly select the students best suited for his class.”

“He doesn’t have mine. Either see that he accepts 'exceeds expectations' or find another potions master who does. I have already talked to the new members of the board of governors on this, and they all agree. The school is here for the students, not for the professors. We need people with potion N.E.W.T.s more than we need the man you currently have employed.”

“You went over my head, Xenophilius? Has the power of your new office already gone to your head?”

“No, they came to me and this was their most pressing concern. There are going to be changes next year, but this needs to happen now.”

Dumbledore fumed, it was bad enough he had to put out fires in the Wizengamot, now it appeared the new board of governors was going to be a problem as well. “You leave me no choice. However, do be forewarned that failures in potions at that level tend to be lethal, or worse. I will talk to Severus about this.”

“When you do, let him know that Hampton Walker’s niece has just earned her Master's.” The Minister stood to take his leave. “She can start next week if needed.”





Professor McGonagall frowned as she made her way to the Great Hall for one of the three most important meals of the day. It was quiet -- too quiet. As she neared, she found the hallway lined with students staring toward the Great Hall, dumbfounded. “What’s going on here? Why are you all staring down the hallway as if you’ve seen a boggart?”

The spell was broken. Everyone else tried to answer at once. "I don't know." "I’m sure that didn’t really happen." "We’re having a shared dream." “Bay Kon!” "Professor Snape just gave Apple fifteen points for having a bow in her hair."

The statement about Snape was clearly preposterous. Professor McGonagall, probed further, hoping to deduce what had actually happened. “Are you saying that Professor Snape gave one of my lions points for no apparent reason?”

“Yes!” several students answered.

“That doesn’t seem likely. Miss Bloom, have you had any other recent contact with the potions professor?”

“Jus’ yesterday when Ah wrote a letter to introduce him to Zecora.”

“You introduced him to Zecora?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Yes ma’am.” Apple Bloom nodded her head and her bow bobbed along gracefully.

“Fifteen points to Gryffindor,” said Professor McGonagall.

“Ah . . . thanks?” Apple Bloom accepted, baffled.

“What’s going on?” Madam Hooch asked, coming upon the small mob gathered in the hallway. “Why are you all just standing here?”

“Professor Snape is being nice,” a Hufflepuff said. “It’s rather unnerving.”

Madam Hooch’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Who hexed him?”

“No one.”

“It seems our Miss Bloom introduced him to a lady, and they appear to have made a good impression on each other,” Professor McGonagall supplied

“Really?” Madam Hooch said turning toward Apple Bloom. “First of all, fifteen points to Gryffindor. And secondly, what’s wrong with her?”

“Pardon?” Apple Bloom asked.

“She likes Professor Snape, so obviously there’s a shoe waiting to drop around here somewhere,” Madam Hooch clarified.

“Bay Kon!” Magah reminded everyone.

“Zecora’s very nice.” Sweetie spoke up. “There’s nothing wrong with her.” Philomena trilled her agreement.

“Professor Snape sure seems to think so,” Parvati observed.

“Are you telling me that all we needed to do all these years was to get him . . .”

“Mr. Greyson,” Professor McGonagall snapped, “don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Suddenly, from the direction of the Great Hall, the ground trembled as Hagrid came hurrying down the passage. “Professor McGonagall,” he called out upon seeing the woman, “ya have to come quick. Something's wrong with Professor Snape.”

“What seems to be the problem, Hagrid?” McGonagall gave him her attention.

“He’s being nice,” Hagrid said, “an' he keeps laughing under his breath. I swear, I heard him say ‘pretty pretty pony’ 'fore he started chuckling. It ain’t right, I tell you. It ain’t right.”

“Good going Apple Bloom,” Dean said. “You broke the potions teacher.”

“Yes,” a fourth-year Hufflepuff echoed, “good going. Do you think you could do it again?”

“Ouch! Stop it! I told you, you’re not dreaming!”

“Yer responsible fer this?” Hagrid asked, locking his eyes on Apple Bloom.

“Maybe?” she replied.

“Right then.” Hagrid drew himself to his full height. “Fifteen points to Gryffindor then. That sounds about fair.”

“Hagrid,” Professor McGonagall said, “you can’t give house points.”

“Well I have to try, now don’t I?” Hagrid said.

“Besides, I already gave her points,” Madam Hooch stated.

“Ye didn’t give her near enough, now did you?” Hagrid countered.

“Why do say that?”

“The Gryffindor counter ain’t full yet, now is it.” Hagrid answered.

“Bay kon.” Magah pouted.





Despite being cramped, the tiny room was replete with finery. As its occupant sat up on her bunk and rubbed her eyes with instinctively-balled fists, she was hard-pressed to decide whether her dreams or reality were more bizarre. She was a stranger in her own skin. Her forehooves were gone, replaced by those soft claw things that minotaurs had. She was some place where she was welcomed; even if the wizard hadn't transformed the decrepit cot into a comfortable, if narrow, bed, it would have afforded her the most comfortable night's sleep she had experienced since her exile. She was in a world of magic, but a magic that was completely foreign to her.

The previous night had been a rollercoaster of new experiences. Afflictions that would have permanently crippled a pony were cured by potions unknown to Equus. What appeared to be unicorn magic was cast via artificial means. The greatest wonder was what seemed to be a sort of teleport that could be cast without any special skills. At one point, it was decided that the home they were in was just too small. They had been taken, one by one, to the fireplace. There, they had been instructed to throw powder at the flames and say "Nott Manor". The subsequent journey was unique, to say the least, but it was definitely magical.

She and most of the other ponies who Discord had collected ended up in a much larger building. They had been welcomed by a human stallion, his wife, and their two small foals. Apparently, they had just moved into the building themselves and were more than happy to welcome the emigrants into their home.

Afterward, their hosts led them into a large ballroom where a buffet-style meal awaited. It was easy to see which mares had been eating regularly and which had not. More than one had been forced to empty their stomachs because they couldn’t keep down the sudden abundance of food. A few more lost it when they were told some of the dishes were meat. The surprise of being an omnivore left most of the mares unsettled.

“Good morning, Fizzlepop,” a voice said before she had focused on her surroundings. “I see that you’re awake. I was just coming to get you.”

Fizzlepop recognized the owner of the voice immediately. It was the one who had brought her here, a being who had once ruled the world and could rearrange reality with just a thought. Though no coward, she wasn’t stupid. Wincing at the necessity, she slid her meek mask into place.

“Good morning, Discord. How are you today?”

“I am doing well,” the man replied. “I was just talking to the people in charge, and they have decided that since you have no criminal record, you shall be given a lot more leeway than everypony else.”

“Leeway?” Fizzlepop asked. “Does that mean I will be able to start doing magic, like them, soon?”

Discord chuckled. “They spend years at school to be able to do that magic.”

“I’m willing to learn. Send me to school.”

“You are much older than a normal pupil,” Discord said. “I’m afraid having you in school would be as feasible as having Sun Butt as a student in magic kindergarten.”

Her face fell at the news. “I see. But I really want to do magic.”

“My dear,” Discord said, “did you not know? Those who cannot do, teach.”





Harry looked at the floor and grimaced. It was well out of his reach. Shifting his gaze, he looked at the ceiling under his feet. This wasn’t a new experience for him, but it was unsettling, regardless.

Turning to Parvati he asked, “How is this even possible?”

Parvati shrugged before sitting on the ceiling. “Magic.”

“I know, but still,” Dean said, imitating Parvati and sitting on the ceiling.

“At least the view is nice from up here,” Scootaloo commented casually.

“This is bloody brilliant,” Ron said, doing his best to support Hermione, who had latched onto him and was hanging on for dear life despite being as firmly affixed as the others.

“Belle! You’re a menace!” Daphne of Slytherin yelled from where she and her housemates huddled together on the other side of the room. They didn’t look particularly pleased to be in the same situation.

“We followed the directions exactly as they were written,” Sweetie protested, looking at her workstation below her.

“The potion was supposed to cure upset stomachs,” Seamus said. “How did you manage to reverse gravity with a potion intended to cure tummy aches?”

“The cloud of blue smoke was kind of cool though,” Abigail commented. “I don’t think there’s anything left in your cauldron, though.”

“I think we need to go over the basics with her again, Apple Bloom,” Ginny said, giving an experimental hop only to reconnect with the ceiling.

“Not in mah lab, we don’t,” Apple Bloom snarled

A voice called from behind the Gryffindors, “Miss Belle, Mr. Longbottom, detention with me after classes today.”





Arthur Weasley looked at the paper in his hands and said, “What’s this?”

“Rarity asked me to go through you if I needed any funds from the girls' vault. The last time I popped in caused quite the stir with the goblins.”

“Popped in?” Arthur studied the man before him, the kilt he wore should have pegged him as a Scotsman, but his accent didn’t match.

“It’s not my fault their security is so lax,” the man complained. “I did apologize afterwards.”

“You popped into a Gringotts vault?”

“Yes.”

“You must be Mr. Discord,” Arthur said, holding out his hand for a shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Discord shook the hand. “I have heard much about you as well. Thank you for inviting the girls into your home. That was very generous of you.”





Garrick Ollivander studied the woman who had just entered his shop. She looked both menacing and insecure at the same time, a volatile combination, to say the least. The scar over her eye did little to quell his concern.

“Good morning madam,” Ollivander said stepping into view. “How may I help you today?”

The woman slowly turned to assess him, expertly hiding her surprise. “Hello, I would like to buy my first wand.”

“Your first?” Ollivander said. “From your charming hair color, I assume you are from Equestria?”

“I am.”

“Shall I be expecting more custom from that source?”

“That is safe to say.” The woman stopped studying him and began scrutinizing the multitude of boxes stacked around. “Your government has accepted quite a number into your society already. After they are done processing them, I’m sure they’ll be filing through here.”

“Good, good. Are you aware that the Ministry subsidizes wand purchases for all students? Wands for adults cost the customer a significant amount more.”

“Discord has given me an advance and an allowance for supplies.”

“An advance?”

“Yes, I start work Monday.”





Madam Pomfrey looked at the ceiling of her clinic and winced. She hated it when the affliction altered the laws of physics. Sighing she said, “Professor Snape, would you kindly levitate one of your students down here?”

Neville gave a gasp as he closed in on the nurse’s position.

Madam Pomfrey began scanning her patient and said, “I suppose it’s all well and good that you are here now. The Minister has ordered an examination for all students, and there is no reason I shouldn’t begin with the lot of you.”

“I still have a class to teach,” Professor Snape reminded her.

“You are going to have to bring your afternoon class anyway. This way, it balances out in the end,” Pomfrey said, tapping her wand on Neville. His hair and clothes now draped toward the floor, rather than the ceiling. With a shrug, Pomfrey gestured with her wand, turning the boy and setting him feet-first on the floor.

Snape sneered and then levitated Malfoy. “Do the members of my house first. Most have missed out on a week of schooling as it is, and I intend to make the most of the time remaining.”

Pomfrey tsked and tapped her wand on Malfoy and repeated the procedure.





“Daddy! You're back!” A little bundle of joy jumped into her father’s arms.

“I told you I wouldn’t be gone long, my little peach blossom.” Xenophilius hugged his reason for living. “I was just securing your spot at Hogwarts this term so you can see your friend again.”

“She’s in Gryffindor, I want to be in Ravenclaw like you and Mummy.”

“The choice is yours, but remember, I’ll be proud of you, whichever house you pick.” He stroked her hair fondly. “Your Mum would be too.”

“I don’t want to leave you, Daddy.”

He continued hugging her before saying, “We all have to leave the nest sometime, my little turtle dove. You need to be out making friends, not sitting in an office with me all day talking politics.”

“I’m afraid.”

“Be brave, can you do that for me?”

“Yes Daddy. I will.”





Madam Pomfrey looked at her wand to confirm her latest readings. After Snape had left with the Slytherins, she was left with just the Gryffindors. She touched the pocket of her apron; the pensieve was still there. Cracking a greedy smile, she poked Lavender with her wand and said, “Change for me, my little pony.”
> Chapter 46: Conversational Snippets
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

For most wizards, mention of a meeting of the Unspeakables would evoke images of a demonic cult or a fraternity initiation. In a shadowy room lit by flickering torch light, a long table would be lined by high-backed chairs, each occupied by a cloaked figure with hood raised to obscure the face. The crowning detail would be magically-altered voices, giving each speaker the bass timbre that lent an air of menace to every word.

In truth, the employees of the Department of Mysteries wasted neither time nor effort on such self-aggrandizing nonsense. Instead, they took advantage of their isolation to maintain a perpetual casual Friday atmosphere. Their main conference room was warmly lit by an unseen source, and the furniture therein was anything but formal. Chairs were scattered throughout the room, and each Unspeakable would pick out whichever one was handy and transfigure it to match their personal tastes. One of the junior members had even insisted on a purple bean bag chair. He had earlier made it as tall as a throne, but after several nasty falls, he settled on a humbler height. Refreshments were always available, with tea and crumpets served on most days. With no outsiders allowed in, there was no need to maintain appearances.

With a meeting in session, the Unspeakables had arranged themselves in a semicircle around the speaker. In the center, Saul Croaker rocked on the back legs of a simple wooden chair as he continued his briefing. "Interviews showed that every one of the exiles was banished for kidnapping with intent to rape. Roughly half admitted to some form of forced sexual contact with their victims. Equestria has sent us the worst of their worst."

Over the muffled sounds of magic fingers, a wizard sitting in an overstuffed recliner said, "That statement is almost laughable when you compare them against our worst. I’d trade the lot of them for some of our ‘upstanding’ citizens, any day of the week. Yes, their crimes are serious, but not one of them seems malicious, uncaring, or unremorseful. Compared to wizards who cast the unforgivable without a second thought, these women are angels.”

“Nonetheless, what is to prevent them from abducting and raping our men?” one of the junior Unspeakables asked.

“While the acts were non-consensual, I got the impression that these women had no interest in demeaning or dominating their victims, the things we normally associate with the word 'rape'. Instead, everyone I interviewed stated that they were desperate to start a family."

“One group wrapped their stallion in a bedsheet and carted him away to have their way with him. How is that not violent and demeaning?” yet another asked.

“I know plenty of blokes who would have paid for the privilege,” the man in the recliner countered. “Speaking of money, every one of them made some mention of wanting to support their man for the rest of his life. Clearly, they aren’t interested in capturing and collecting men; they just want one to call their own.”

“I think you’re understating the severity of their crimes. After all, their former government saw fit to banish them for their misdeeds.”

“Perhaps, but the conditions that led them to their crimes are not present here; our gender ratio is roughly equal. Their country's trash is our treasure.”

“We could hold out for better quality trash.”

“I don’t think any of us here would be willing to send them back to the conditions they escaped,” Heather asserted. “I think most of them will stay in line just to avoid that possibility.”

“It doesn’t feel right to reward them for their wrongdoing.”

“They have taken their lesson to heart; now they just want to settle down and be accepted into society.”

“Says the man who let four of them jump him after knowing them less than an hour.”

“Regardless,” Croaker said, rocking some more, “we desperately need to introduce new blood into our flock. Despite the Wizengamot making disclosure of our birth statistics illegal, you each know that squib births are up fifty-four percent in the last half century, and overall births are down thirty. We cannot sustain ourselves with such numbers. With the pureblood’s power waning earlier than projected, now is the time to act.

“In short,” a woman who had been quiet up until then said, “we need to literally stop looking gift horses in the mouth and work with what we were given.”

“I’m keeping my eyes on them.”

“If I may interrupt for a second,” Heather said, derailing the pending argument, “there is more exceptional news originating from our equine friends. St. Mungo's has informed me that they have a subject who has been successfully cured of lycanthropy.”

“The Equestrians just handed us the cure for our most violent offenders?” The man in the recliner leaned back triumphally. “That alone is reason enough to accept every rapist they can produce for the next century.”

Heather eyed him distastefully before continuing. “Initially, there were some complications, but they have been ironed out.”

“Complications?” Croaker asked.

“Yes, instead of turning into a werewolf last full moon, the subject became a little horse.”

“I hardly think a sore throat counts as a complication,” the most junior member of the department said. “I think most would consider it at worse a minor inconvenience.”

“No.” Heather corrected. “I mean, instead of fangs and a bad attitude, he got hooves and a taste for hay. It lasted well after the moon had set, and they ended up just using an artifact to transfigure him back into a human, with no signs of the disease.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I imagine the hospital staff beat that joke into the ground.”

Heather sighed, “I rather suspect they did.”





Once again, the herd had the last period on Friday free. The faculty had yet to catch on to just how bad of an idea idle hands were for this group. As they wandered the halls back to their dorm, the herd realized there was a small complication in their plans.

“We can’t go to the mall jus’ yet,” Apple Bloom said. “Neville and Sweetie need to stay for detention after classes.”

“I know.” Scootaloo grumbled, “I don’t want to just sit around doing nothing all afternoon. Fay has the main power crystal, so we can’t even play our game until everyone does their homework.”

“Yeah, why do we let her do that?” Lavender asked. “It’s our game.”

“It’s not worth worrying about,” Sweetie said. “We can just get another telly and set it up in one of the trunks; that way everyone is happy.”

“That still leaves us this afternoon with nothing to do,” Ron said.

“We could get our homework out of the way,” Hermione suggested.

“How about not?” Parvati said, “You’re over-enthusiastic about homework sometimes.”

“Got a better idea?” Hermione countered.

“I say we go check out that corridor they were telling us about at the beginning of the year,” Scootaloo answered.

“I don’t like dying,” Neville said. “Remember, they said avoid that hall if you want to avoid dying.”

“It can’t actually be that bad,” Harry said. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t allow it in the school.”

“I’m going to have to agree with Harry on this one,” Ginny said, sliding up to Harry to give him a bump with her hip. “It can’t hurt to give it a quick look.”

“I was thinking of saving that until after the snow fell and we were stuck in the castle,” Sweetie objected.

“What?” Dean said. “And let all the other students have all the fun first?”

“Ah suppose we have time for a quick look-see,” Apple Bloom said. “Lead the way Hermione.”

“You know,” Hermione muttered, “just last month, I’d never would have even considered so blatantly breaking rules.”

“It wasn’t worded as a rule,” Seamus said, “more like a dire warning against bodily harm.”





Madam Pomfrey and fourteen healers from St. Mungo's had appropriated the Main Hall. They were methodically scanning each student present and recording a corresponding medical report. It was a new undertaking for the school, initiated by none other than the Minister himself. Before this, there would actually be students who went their entire stay at Hogwarts without being examined. After today, Pomfrey would have papers on the entire student body.

Luckily, she had done all the first-year Slytherins and Gryffindors earlier. Still, it was crowded with the curtained-off examination stations strategically placed about the room. With all of the other students, as well as all of the school staff, yet to be examined, even that small head start was a welcomed lessening of their workload.





The hallway was quiet -- too quiet. “You know,” Ginny said as she and her herd explored the empty corridor, “I’m actually surprised no one has tried to stop us yet.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “the halls do seem awfully deserted right now, even considering classes are in session.”

“Wanker?” Magah asked, sensing the mischievous atmosphere the foals were giving off.

“We have got to teach her some new words,” Parvati said.

“She said, 'Bloody hell’ last night,” Dean helpfully reminded everyone.

“We need to teach her some new non-swear words,” Parvati amended.

“This door’s locked,” Ron said, testing the next egress in the corridor. “It’s the first one.”

“Jackpot.” Scootaloo bounced with glee.

“Jackpot?” Sweetie raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure? You know we failed at getting our lockpicking cutie marks.”

“One of these days you are going to have to explain exactly what you mean by 'cutie marks',” Hermione said, examining the door, while reaching into her bookbag. “Besides, there is a lock opening spell in our first-year charms book.”

“Can y’all cast it?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Not yet.” Hermione shook her head. “But I have it right here. How hard can it be?”

“You think a first-year charm will open it up?” Ron rattled the doorknob one more time.

“On the bright side,” Ginny said, “anything that is guarded by something that can be countered by a first-year charm can’t be that dangerous.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “the professors wouldn’t do something that stupid, now would they.”





It had been a very long day for the Black family, and the end was nowhere in sight. They had gone as a group to St. Mungo's. Once the requisite certifications had been issued, the family went to the Ministry. Sirius conferred with his lawyer, the new Minister, and the head of the DMLE. After taking some drops of veritaserum, he finally was able to give his deposition. All charges against Sirius were dropped with prejudice. With the requisite fanfare, the others celebrated the restoration of his status. He was now legally recognized as the head of House Black.

In his new position, the first thing Sirius did was to reinstate his cousin and her daughter back into the Black family. His next act was to formally recognize and sanction the betrothal of Remus and Narcissa. The two would be legally wed in the coming summer, but that was merely a formality. Every member of the Black family recognized the two as a de facto couple; they just had to wait for the paperwork to catch up with them. Now, all they needed was official recognition of Sirius’s status as Harry’s godfather, and they’d be one large happy family.

The truly unpleasant work, however, was just beginning. The family home had for years been unoccupied, except for the house elf. When Sirius opened the front door, the stench of decay was the least troubling thing he encountered. The house elf had taken it upon himself to reshape the dwelling to his tastes. To call it a pig sty or a rat's nest would have been an unforgivable insult to either creature. Unfortunately, that was nothing compared to what awaited them in the front hall.

“She’s just as vile as I remembered her,” Nissy said, gesturing at the silenced portrait that they were all trying to remove from the wall.

“Wicked niece be respecting elders.” The house elf, Kreacher sneered as he wrung his hands and watched the gathered magical folk attempt to assault the last remaining consciousness of his former mistress.

“Silence, you,” Nissy snapped. “My elders stuck me in a loveless marriage for their own benefit. They deserve none of my respect.”

The elf continued sneering but fell silent as commanded.

“This sticking charm just refuses to come off,” Andi commented after trying to finite the binding one more time.

“I think it’s a permanent charm,” Sirius agreed, poking at the picture with his wand as the woman in it yelled at him silently.

“Well, then just take the wall down,” Nissy suggested.

“Can’t,” Remus said. “It’s a load-bearing wall. Damaging it could bring down the whole house.”

“Silly man,” Andi said gesturing at the wall, “It’s the beams and joists that are load bearing. The wall is just some wooden planks nailed to those beams. They are what the picture is attached to, and they can be replaced.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sirius grinned fiercely. “Someone transfigure a crowbar while I figure out where to pry.”

Remus felt the accusing eyes on him once more and said, “All right already, you can stop pouting now.”

“Couldn’t you have waited a few days before changing back?” Nyphadora whined with unshed tears glistening in her eyes.





“That got it,” Hermione said, reaching for the door she had just successfully unlocked. “Let’s get this over with before someone catches us.”

“You know,” Dean said, watching the girl peer past the barely-opened door, “you could have been gracious and pretended that one of us managed that spell first.”

Hermione snapped her head back and pulled the door shut. “Let’s go frolic in the Forbidden Forest instead,” she said.

“Can’t.” Apple Bloom shook her head. “We promised Ginny’s dad that we wouldn’t do that 'til after we get our O.W.L.s”

“What’s the problem?” Scootaloo asked, pushing Hermione out of the way. The purple-haired girl repeated Hermione's observation in a fraction of the time.

“That bad?” Harry asked, eyeing the door.

Scootaloo turned to address the bird riding on Sweetie Belle’s shoulder. “Philomena, I’ve got a job for you. We’re going to need Fluttershy for this.”





Professor McGonagall surveyed the controlled chaos that the Main Hall had become and made a startling observation. With a worried frown, she sought out seventh-year prefect. “Miss Dunbar,” she said upon finding her, “have you seen the first-years?”

Fay looked at her head of house and said, “Apparently, Madam Pomfrey did them all earlier after an accident in potions class. They’re probably up in the tower doing whatever they normally do with their free period.”

Looking around again, McGonagall noted that the first-year Slytherins were also missing. Normally, she would have sent one of her prefects, but her instincts screamed at her. She said, “I think I’ll go have a look for myself. There’s no telling what kind of trouble that group could be getting into.”

Fay nodded in agreement and then returned to supervising the younger students.





“Who’s a good doggy? You’re a good doggy! Yes, you are; oh yes, you are. Those meanies had you locked up in here with no room to move around. You just need some loving. You also need some exercise. Well yes you do, oh yes you do. You’ve got some new friends who can help. Be loyal to them and they will be loyal to you. Yes, they will.”

“Merlin, she’s gorgeous.” Seamus gasped.

“I’m pretty sure the dog is male.” Parvati corrected.

“I wasn’t talking about the dog.”





Albus Dumbledore was at his desk, working on some long-neglected paperwork, when he became aware of his deputy making her way up to his office. Without looking up or waiting, he waved the door open so that she could enter. “Ah, Minerva, I have some good news. It appears Mr. Goodman was able to renegotiate his contract and is willing to continue teaching for the rest of the year. We no longer need worry about acquiring a new DADA instructor.”

“Albus,” Minerva snapped, “the stone needs to be removed from the school. It threatens the safety of our students.”

“Nonsense,” Dumbledore said, looking up to see a furious witch staring back at him. “The first obstacle is enchanted to be unable to do any damage to our students while scaring them away. His bark truly is worse than his bite. There is no way any student is making it past him.” He managed a disarming smile with a reassuring twinkle in his left eye.

Minerva growled, “The first years are out front, playing fetch with Fluffy, right this very minute.”

Dumbledore blinked in surprise; none of the portraits had informed him of this anomaly, “How did they manage to get him out of the castle?”

Slamming her palms on the desk, Minerva leaned toward the headmaster. “The buffer between our students and the traps we’ve laid is out front acting like an overgrown puppy and all you can think of asking is how they managed to get him outside?”





With a puff of smoke, Discord appeared before a familiar cottage at the edge of the Everfree and knocked on the door.

“I’m behind you,” a quiet voice spoke up. “I just got back from a quick errand.”

“Ah, Fluttershy,” Discord greeted, grinning widely and offering a floral bouquet, “I have just arrived for our afternoon tea engagement. I even brought some of your favorite flowers.”

“My, they look delicious.” Fluttershy happily eyed the arrangement. “They will go nicely with the cucumber sandwiches I’ve prepared.”

“I only aim to please.” Discord bowed. “Shall we proceed inside?”

“Oh,” Fluttershy said, “we’re not staying here today. You’re taking me over to meet Alice Rutter for tea.”





In his many years of service with the school, Hagrid had learned that the grounds in front of Hogwarts were not the place for his more boisterous friends. After all, they were the first thing that any visitor would see. The first-years had no such inhibitions.

“Bad Fluffy!” Apple Bloom admonished. “Bad dog! Yer supposed to fetch the stick, not the Slytherins. Put 'em down!”

*Thump!*

“Good boy.”

“Woof!” Three heads agreed as a massive tail whipped back and forth in excitement.

“An’ you three quit yer whining. He ain’t hurt you none an’ the slobber stains will come out of yer robes.”

“First a phoenix, then a unicorn,” Daphne snarled watching the aforementioned unicorn cropping up grass not far away, “now this beast. What’s next? Are one of you packing a dragon or something?”

Scootaloo perked up at the thought, “Hey, do you think they’d mind if we brought Spike for a visit? I’m sure he’d get a real kick out of it.”

“I don’t think they’re ready for a dragon.” Sweetie shook her head. “Even if he is just a baby.”





Bell-like laughter echoed in Celestia's private study. The princess could think of no better activity for family bonding.

“Sister, that was not humorous,” Luna said while staring at the object of her ire. Her cutie mark graced its lid, marking it as her own. “We could have broken it.”

“You should have seen the look on your face,” Celestia said, still chortling. “I thought your eyeballs were going to pop right out of their sockets.”

“We have never encountered anything of its ilk outside the realm of nightmares.”

“One doesn’t normally anticipate a piece of furniture trying to take a bite out of one’s flank,” Celestia agreed. “I will have to thank Rarity and her friends for such thoughtful gifts yet again.”

“A pony-eating trunk is a thoughtful gift?”

“They are almost harmless once you bind them to yourself,” Celestia said. “Just wait until you see the inside.”

With a huff, Luna said, “We see thou hast acquired one for Cadence as well.”

“Yes, she should be along shortly for her gift.”

“Hold that thought; we must fetch the popcorn.”





Sweetie Belle and Neville were surprised to see two bushels of potatoes waiting at their workstation when they entered the potions lab for their detention.

“I see you left your phoenix behind yet brought your mother hen,” Professor Snape said from where he stood before the workstations.

“I can’t get her to stop following me,” Sweetie griped. “Besides, I think she wants to get away from Fluffy.”

“Proof that you were where you should not be, ten points from Gryffindor.”

Magah said, "Bay con?"

“He was stuck in a windowless room much too small for him,” Sweetie complained.

“That was not your concern; you shouldn’t have been anywhere near that room to begin with.”

Sweetie pouted while Neville stood silently at her side. Snape eyed them both before sneering and gesturing toward the potatoes.

“As much as I’d love to have you cleaning cauldrons, I think our time would be better spent revisiting the proper ways of preparing ingredients. These potatoes should be suitable for that exercise.”

Neville and Sweetie Belle looked at the large buckets and sighed. Somewhere, Vulcan and Pele were taking bets.





The acoustics in the chamber were incredible. Despite the differences in volume, everyone within could be clearly heard.

“Not funny.” Cadence said, daintily stepping to avoid the popcorn spilt on the floor. Frizzed and sticking out at odd angles, her mane was in complete disarray.

Luna had overturned her bowl and was on her back, weakly kicking her legs as tears streamed from her eyes. Somehow, she was managing to laugh in her Royal Canterlot voice.

Her sister, Celestia, wasn’t in much better shape. All pretense of decorum was abandoned as she lay on her belly and pounded her front hoof on the floor, in time with her own laughter.

“Really,” Cadence groused, “that wasn’t funny.”





The Gryffindor common room somehow seemed much fuller, despite having only three occupants.

“No, you cannot keep him. I don’t care if he is potty trained,” Fay practically shrieked. “So, you can turn back to human and stop giving me those eyes. That’s just plain playing dirty. How did you even manage to get him in here? He’s too big for the doorway.”

“Please.”

“No! He’s taking up half the common room as it is!”





“Minister Lovegood, welcome,” Professor McGonagall said, meeting the official at the grand entrance to the school, a sixth-year prefect at her side. “And Luna as well. I must say that I can see your mother in you.”

“Good afternoon, professor,” Minister Lovegood returned. “I do hope that the headmaster has informed you of our arrangements.”

“Hello,” Luna said brightly.

“Indeed, he has,” McGonagall said. “Though the timing turns out to be a little awkward.”

“How so?”

“I have just been informed that the entire Gryffindor house intends to skip supper in the Great Hall this evening,” Minerva said with a small frown. “This hampers any attempt to do a sorting tonight.”

“The entire house is skipping a meal? How is that possible?”

“They have kitchens in their dorm. I assume they plan on providing for themselves. Regardless, we will have the sorting tomorrow. For tonight, Miss Lovegood here will be welcome in my house. It will give her a chance to get to know her peers.”





In the south orchard of Sweet Apple Acres, Applejack stood next to Rainbow Dash as the two stared in wide-eyed shock, unable to fully comprehend the situation.

“Well,” Rainbow said, shifting her gaze to the letter on Applejack’s hoof, “two things are glaringly obvious at this point.”

“How do y'all figure?” Applejack asked.

“First of all, we need to get an awesome gift for this Fay character. She seems to be in charge of keeping the crusaders out of trouble.”

“Yeah,” Applejack agreed, “an’ two?”

“We need to stop letting the crusaders hang out with Fluttershy; she’s clearly a bad influence on them.”

With a gasp, Applejack said, “Here now, how could y'all say such a thing?”

Rainbow narrowed her eyes and pointed a hoof at the enormous three-headed dog currently playing with Winona. Each time the larger canine licked the smaller, she was lifted bodily off the ground in delight.

Applejack sighed and looked at the roughhousing. “Ah don’t know what’s worse, that you would say such a thing or the fact that Fluttershy's not here to join in the hootenanny.”

Rainbow returned her gaze to the dogs and waited a few seconds before saying, “I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Is 'hootenanny' a real word or did you just make it up?” Rainbow huffed. “Because, if you did, you may want to start talking a little less to Lodestone; he’s starting to rub off on you.”





The portrait guarding the entrance swung open and Luna skipped after the prefect into the Gryffindor common room.

“Thank you for showing me the way,” she said. Then, spotting her friend, she waved to the prefect before hurrying over to say hello. “Ginny!”

“Luna! Hi! What are you doing here?” Ginny exclaimed in surprise.

“I’m starting early, just like you.”

“Are you in Gryffindor too?” Ginny asked.

“Professor McGonagall said I would be sorted tomorrow. I get to stay here tonight,” Luna said.

“That’s great! I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

“It will be fun.” Luna smiled, eyes locked on her friend. “The horn is new,” she noted.

Ginny winked. "You should see what I do with purple people when I'm on my broom. You like?”

“Yes, may I hold you?”

“Sure.”





Applejack stuck her head through the front doorway of the farmhouse. “Big Mac! Ah’m going to need your help walking the dog over to Fluttershy’s!”

The large red stallion ambled out of the kitchen and fixed his sister with a questioning look.

“Y'all will understand once you see,” Applejack answered. “Apple Bloom got a new pet.”





“So, you’ve invited the heads of your school over tonight for a look at the new magic?” Cadence asked, eyeing the remaining shrunken trunks, “Is there any popcorn left?”





“NOPE!”





In the Gryffindor common room, Fay had placed the main crystal back into the box. Since it was Friday, she could afford to reduce the homework requirement; the entire weekend was available to finish it. Her entire body sagged with relief when she realized that she could finally relax as she waited for the promised food.

“Fay?” a voice behind her ventured.

“Oh, hey there,” Fay said to her Hufflepuff counterpart. “What brings you here?”

“The members of my house are outside. They want to watch the telly with your house.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Fay conceded. “I’m sure we can squeeze them in; how many did you bring?”

“All of them.”





What was once a lonely house was finally becoming a home.

“Saul!” Vanilla Lick called out as her stallion exited the fireplace. “Welcome back!”

“Vanilla,” Saul Croaker said, coming over for a kiss, “how’s my sweet lady?”

Vanilla giggled and said, “Mainly bored, but Cumin has dinner ready.”

“Great,” Croaker said, rubbing his hands, “I’m starved.”

“Saul?” Vanilla asked cautiously.

“Yes dear?”

"Did you bring your work home with you?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"There are pieces of a dead body in your icebox."

"What?!"

Trembling Vanilla said, "I think somepony murdered a cow."





“Eeeeeeeee!” several Hufflepuff girls exclaimed in unison.

“Halp!” Dean cried out from his new vantage in the arms of the guests.

“You’re so adorable and pink!”

“I’m fuchsia!”

“I am so glad I’m not pink,” Ron said, standing on his hind hooves and looking over the back of a couch.

“Eeeeeeeee!”

“Now you’ve done it,” Lavender said, making herself as small as possible as she squeezed under that couch. “You had better hope they don’t have any bows handy.”





Percy looked around the first-year boy’s dorm and took in the large number of cardboard boxes awaiting on top of several trunks. A tantalizing mixture of smells met his nostrils. Hermione, Seamus, Apple Bloom, Philomena, and Scootaloo all looked back at him expectantly.

“Of course, I’ll help you get these downstairs,” he said, “but where did you get them in the fir . . .” He cut himself off in mid-sentence and snapped his gaze on the only avian occupant of the room. “Oh.”





Halfway to Fluttershy’s, Rainbow Dash suddenly cried out, “Lookout! A pack of Timberwolves just wandered out of the forest!”

“What?!” Applejack shouted. “That hasn’t happened in years! We need to get the Guard!”

“I’m on it!” Rainbow Dash crouched, ready to take off.

“Growl! Woof! Woooof! Woof!”

“Yipe!”

“Grrrr!”

“Yipe! Yipe! Yipe!”

*Crunch!*

“Yipe! Yipe!”

“Or not,” Rainbow said relaxing her stance.

*Crunch crunch snap!*

“Okay,” Applejack said grudgingly, as she sidestepped a flying piece of wood, “he can stay.”

“Eeyup,” Her brother agreed.

“You’re going to have to build one heck of a doghouse,” Rainbow noted.





Scootaloo put down her load on an empty table and surveyed the packed common room. “We’re going to need more pizza,” she noted.

“Better put one of the meat ones off to the side,” Seamus suggested. “Sweetie will have a fit if she comes back and it's all gone.”





Luna sat on a cushion behind a one-way mirror and levitated a bowl of popcorn over to Cadence. Both had their eyes locked on the distinguished-looking unicorn from the School for Gifted Unicorns.

“Just tap it three times with your horn to make it grow,” Celestia said.
> Chapter 47: Books! Books! Books!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cocks' crows filled the air as the the light of the false dawn silhouetted the lonely figure lightly laden with shopping bags. Although he had run out of food, this ungodly hour was the only time of day that he dared to venture into the open. It had been a week since his last trip, a week watching his meager rations dwindle nibble by nibble until hunger drove him out again. Fenton was a paranoid wizard; he knew that, like young chickens, the sins of his youth were coming home to roost.

What had seemed so right then was so obviously wrong now. He deeply regretted the choices that he had made. Like his father before him, he had been indoctrinated in the virtue of the purity of the wizarding race. Eliminating the stain of the muggle-born was his sacred duty, and when the opportunity came to join in the crusade, Fenton had jumped in with both feet. Those heady years were a whirlwind of action as he joined his master in showing the wizarding world the fate the tainted muggle-born deserved. He joined in making examples of these mongrels; he had improved the world by weeding them out, making room for the truly deserving.

It had all come crashing down in what seemed the blink of the eyes. It was completely preposterous, but his master had been laid low by the very scum that he was eradicating. Without its head, the movement lost its coherence, its very will. What had been a formidable army was reduced to desperate individuals scrambling to protect themselves from what was to come. Having no allies, Fenton was left to fend for himself. His meager savings and his position as head of a pureblood house had barely been enough to persuade a more tractable Wizengamot member to grant him an Imperius defense. Penniless, he had no stomach to continue the quest. There was no point in shedding any more blood. He turned his back on what he had been, closing the book on that chapter of his life. He still hated the muggle-born with a passion, but, for him, the fight was over.

Void of either money or influence, he attempted to gain employment with known pureblood supporters, but the surfeit of more qualified applicants coupled with the reversals in fortune for the pureblood factions left no openings for those such as he. Instead, he was spared the indignity of working as a muggle laborer by landing a job in small shop in the Welsh countryside. There, he worked in tandem with six other magic users in a large, noisy room. In the greatest affront to his sensibilities, he had to work shoulder to shoulder with four muggle-born.

Fenton was painfully aware of how dependent he was on this job. There was no way he would risk arrest again; that would surely be a one-way ticket to Azkaban. He had to swallow his pride and keep a civil tongue, lest he be called out. As much as it grated his nerves, he tolerated the presence of the lesser beings.

He had thought that he was doomed to a life of isolation. It had seemed inconceivable that he would have anything to do with the mudbloods. Somehow, the impossible happened. Polite greetings had given way to casual conversation; he actually started talking with his coworkers. That led to shared laughter over common experiences. Soon, birthdays came and went. Those he had thought were inferior had proven to be generous to him, and he had reciprocated.

The epiphany had come without warning. Contrary to what he had been raised to believe, these muggle-born were not inferior wastes of oxygen. They were real people, no better, no worse than he. There had been a nail-biting confession of his former viewpoints, but his coworkers were swayed by his honesty. He had omitted the details of his actions; he couldn't risk alienating them further. With the lie of omission hanging over his head, he basked in their kindness and gave his loyalty in return. Time passed as they worked together while working their magic.

The job was a steady one, affording Fenton a modest life. Eventually, one of his friendships had blossomed into romance, and Fenton married. His father would have been outraged that he had bonded with a muggle-born. Fenton’s younger self would have killed himself to avoid that fate. Love, however, was cross-eyed; it had struck an unlikely, but compatible pair. From that union, two beautiful babies had been born. Fenton looked into the eyes of his newborns; there was nothing inferior about them. He was proud of the choice he had made; he did not care one whit that he was now a blood traitor.

As the years passed, Fenton and his wife had established a cozy home. He was relieved that his old life was nothing but a distant memory. However, disaster struck without warning on the fateful night his wife had charged into their house, screaming for him. She warned him that all magic users who had been cleared through an Imperius defense had warrants for their arrests. Stunned that his wife would support him despite knowing his past, Fenton numbly nodded. They would have to flee the country, beyond the jurisdiction of the Wizengamot. When his wife rushed upstairs to collect the children, he left, leaving behind a promise to fetch them when he found sanctuary. He would not let his mistakes drag his family down.

Mourning his losses, Fenton entered the small cottage that now served as his hideout. Staying in southern Italy during the shoulder season kept him well away from the chaos currently engulfing Britain while allowing him to conserve his funds. Securing passage to some place where he could start over would take time and patience. He would start over. He would bring his family once he established himself.

Without warning, he felt anti-apparition wards jump into place. He didn’t bother reaching for his wand when four figures melted from the shadows.

“It is about time you made it back,” one of them said. “You see, one Miss Rutter insists that you stand before the Wizengamot, and she's paying us handsomely to make sure that you're not late."

Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.





Amid the cacophony of snores in the cozy bedroom of Ginny's trunk, Luna Lovegood could hardly believe the wonders she had seen in just a few short hours, and she was lying on the latest. This was the first time she had seen a self-expanding bed, but these devices clearly had their limits. The ones in the trunks simply would not comfortably accommodate thirteen human children. Thus, Luna had found herself sharing a bed with three other girls, a full-grown pseudo woman, and ten balls of pure adorableness. The experience had fulfilled not only every cuddling fantasy Luna had ever conceived but also a good deal she had yet to dream up. To say that she had a wonderful evening was akin to saying that crumple-horned snorkacks were a bit elusive. Her first night away from home had exceeded all of her expectations by a very large margin.

It was a wonder that her mind had not shut down from sensory overload. Finding that her friend could transfigure into a baby unicorn was ecstasy all by itself. Having a small herd of tiny ponies to cuddle was utter bliss. The phoenix sleeping on the perch in the corner was just overkill.

Her fluffy bedmates were only the latest wonder in this new world she had entered. She would never have imagined that anything like a telly was even possible. It was shocking that these were common among muggles. The saga she had seen had sparked her imagination. Despite being told that it was all make-believe, and that the characters had been actors in rubber suits, Luna was sure she had to travel to New York and explore the sewers. The chance that there were actual fighting reptiles under the streets was too much of a curiosity to overlook. Besides, they had liked pizza, and Luna found that she enjoyed the indulgence as well.

If only she hadn’t missed the three-headed dog that Fay had insisted had no place in the dorms.





Hermione woke to find herself being hugged by Abagail. The other girl liked to grab whatever was in range when she slept, and this wasn’t the first time Hermione had found herself in this position. Though reluctant to leave the warm comfort, Hermione carefully slid her way out of the bed, skillfully avoiding ponies so as not to wake them. Today was her last day to find something in the library before she would be held to her promise, telling what had happened to her. If she couldn’t find a cure before then, she would have no other choice. What kind of example would that be to her friends?

All of her life, Hermione had faithfully followed the rules. She would never have imagined falling in with a group that considered rules to be something that happened to others. Now, she couldn’t imagine being without them. She had even brought the subject up with her mother while exploring her new trunk. Her mum had told her outright that while rules were important, friends who knew when to break them were even more so. Hermione had found this to be a confusing conundrum. Was her mother was basically telling her to go break rules?

Much to Hermione’s surprise, with the exception of the whole marks on the bum ordeal, breaking the rules had been beneficial. If it weren’t for the fact that they were there for safety's sake, she would have been all in for the concept. Now, however, she was just conflicted.

As quietly as she could manage, Hermione left the trunk to get dressed. Save for the new girl, Luna, lifting her head to watch, she managed without disturbing anyone.





In the master bedroom of what had been Malfoy Manor, Discord awoke and found himself unwilling to move. On one side, there was a puddle of distinct pink hair, while on the other was a silky black mass. Surprisingly synchronized, two forms clutched at him possessively and he felt love radiating from both. A smug grin crept across his face as he recalled the previous evening. The two females had taken to each other as if they were life-long friends. It had been the best possible outcome he could have hoped for.

Now, he had more incentive than ever to make his plans succeed. But first, there was that nagging disruption that had been going on all week. It was small and should have worked itself out by now. Since it had not, he would have to investigate it.





Hermione had managed to make it to the library without attracting too much attention. The students still in the common room had been either fast asleep or had their eyes glued to whatever was on the telly. It wasn’t long before she had claimed a table all for herself with a pile of books. She was determined to find her answers soon.

Opening a book at random, she heard a familiar voice. “You are awake unconscionably early today.”

Dropping her book on the table in surprise, Hermione said, “Mr. Discord! Good morning, sir. Um, why are you wearing just a housecoat?”

Discord yawned and said, “Because I would much rather be back in bed, like you should be. Why are you up so early?”

Hermione managed to shuffle nervously in her seat, even as a yawning Madam Pince noticed the underdressed visitor and came over to investigate. “I have a problem and need to find the answer. I’m sure one of these books can help.”

Discord waved at the looming librarian before replying to Hermione, “You have been emitting low levels of fear all week. Does that have anything to do with your current search?”

Madam Pince frowned but did not interrupt as Hermione wilted and said, “Yes, I am looking for a solution, but none of the books I have access to here seem to be helping.”

“I see.” Discord yawned a second time. “Have you tried asking for help?”

“Yes, sir.” Hermione nodded. “Madam Pomfrey doesn’t have an answer yet, but she’s looking as well. She did say I wasn’t in any immediate danger though.”

“She probably knows this library better than you,” Discord said sleepily. “You do know that trying the same thing over and over yet expecting a different result is the very definition of insanity.”

“I have to try,” Hermione insisted. “I don’t want to sit around with nothing to do but worry.”

“Have you considered trying a different library?” Discord let his eyelids droop to half-mast. The child didn’t appear to be in dire straits. She just needed somepony to help her.

“I thought of checking my library back home,” Hermione confessed. “You know, the one you took pleasure in burning books from.”

“I imagine that would be time-consuming,” Discord said as his bed screamed for his return. “I was thinking more along the lines of a friend of mine who lives in a library. She would know where to look.”

“I’d like that.” Hermione perked up. “When could I meet her?”

“Now is as good a time as any.” Discord snapped his fingers, and the girl disappeared in a flash of light. Madam Pince gasped and then glared at the strange, half-dressed man. “Do not worry, I will have her back in time for supper,” he said before repeating the gesture and disappearing in the same manner.





In a library inside a living tree, the laws of nature were being stretched to the breaking point. A baby dragon was up and about in the pre-dawn darkness. Being a dragon, Spike took sleep seriously. That devotion was ingrained in his genetics. He came from a species that considered a decade-long slumber to be a mere catnap. Granted, naps of that duration were generally reserved for adult dragons, but even babies loved to have a lay in. There were few things that could persuade Spike to abandon prime sleep time on a weekend morning. A full day helping Rarity work off her backlog was one of them.

The promise of spending a day with his crush had transformed the surly trip hazard into a grinning, besotted fool who nearly ran headlong into the outlandish creature that suddenly appeared in the middle of the library.

Instincts honed razor-sharp by the insanity that was Ponyville spurred Spike to action. At the top of his lungs, he screamed, “Yaaaaaaaaaah! Monster!” Wide-eyed, he proceeded to stare down the monster. His body was not paralyzed by terror. His knees did not shake as he fearlessly held his ground. His bladder did not betray him. Honest.

“Where!? Where?!” Twilight shouted as she went from asleep to combative in less than a second. She hurdled down the stairs and lapped the two occupants twice, looking everywhere for danger.

Spike pointed a trembling claw at the intruder. “Right there!”

Twilight lifted the monster up out of the way and looked behind it. “Where? I still don’t see it.”

“Right there!” Spike repeated, still pointing at the now-floating beast.

Intellect caught up with instinct as Twilight's adrenaline rush subsided. Setting her burden down, she said, "Silly Spike, that’s not a monster. That’s a baby human -- mostly harmless.” Lowering her head, ears and eyelids, Twilight lost interest and trudged back toward the stairs leading to her bedroom and the promise of more sleep.

Spike and the human shared a look. Then, as one, they turned to watch the retreating unicorn.

“Any second now,” Spike commented.

Mid-step, Twilight’s hooves froze. Her head and ears shot straight up and her eyes opened as wide as they would go. “Hold on a second here!”

Spike sighed. He then addressed the human, “I’m going to go start the coffee; she’s going to need it.” The human dumbly nodded her assent.





Still in her nightclothes, Minerva looked at Madam Pince with bleary eyes. “That would have been Mr. Discord. He is fairly eccentric.”

“Eccentric?” Madam Pince huffed, standing just outside the head of house’s office door. “I don’t think I’ve even ever seen the headmaster wear such a frilly housecoat. And he made off with a student.”

“From what you’ve said, I know exactly where he sent her,” Minerva said. “If you happen to see him before I do, please inform him that Madam Pomfrey would like a word.”





Twilight sat at the dining table with a mug of coffee hovering before her. “So, you’re one of the new Cutie Mark Crusaders,” she clarified.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione said, still staring at Twilight’s flank.

“I can believe that, the way you won’t take your eyes off my cutie mark.” Twilight took another gulp of liquid heaven.

“That’s a cutie mark?” Hermione said, bewildered. “That’s what they meant whenever they complained about not having one?”

“Well, yes,” Twilight said. “Everypony gets one once they realize their special talent. Haven’t the girls explained them to you?”

“No. They totally did not tell us to expect a picture to appear on our bums out of nowhere for no apparent reason!”

“That’s actually my flank, not my bum,” Twilight corrected.

“In human form they migrate to your bum,” Hermione seethed.

“Oh, you got yours?” Twilight perked up. “Congratulations!”

“I’ve been worried and hid it all week! I thought there was something wrong with me!”

“Wait, you’ve been hiding your cutie mark for a week?” Twilight gasped.

“Yes!”

“Hold on a minute,” Twilight said. “I need to process the irony of a Cutie Mark Crusader panicking for a week over receiving her cutie mark.”

“Hahaha!” *Thump* “Wahahaha.”

Twilight looked over at the baby dragon who had just fallen off the stool he had been using while making pancakes. “It’s early, and as you can see, Spike got a head start on me.”





The Gryffindor herd exited the portal to their tower, intent on finding their wayward member.

“I’ll lay odds that she’s just in the library,” Abagail said soothingly.

“Sucker's bet,” Dean retorted. “Let’s just go get her. It’s time she told us what’s bothering her.”

“Is it right to bother her if she doesn’t want to tell what’s wrong?” Luna asked as she happily tagged along.

“She’s a friend, Luna.” Apple Bloom explained, “Y'all don’t let friends face their problems alone, even if they don’t want your help ta begin with. Sometimes, yer friends try to protect ya from their mistakes an’ ya have to decide if’n y'all will help 'em despite the danger. Hermione already said she was afraid of being expelled and didn’t want to involve us. An’ we already told her, 'horseapples'.”

“That was before she visited the nurse,” Parvati pointed out. “Perhaps we should give her some space, and she’ll tell us eventually.”

“I think she appreciates us worrying over her,” Neville said. “When she’s not fretting over her problem, she looks at us and smiles.”

“We need to not be frustrated at her and get her to confide in us,” Sweetie Belle said. “I don’t think she realizes what it means to be in a herd yet.”

“I can’t help but worry for her,” Harry confessed.

“Good,” Scootaloo said. “That shows you care.”

Luna turned to Ginny and asked, “Is this what it’s like to have friends?”

“Yes.” Ginny nodded her head. “Isn’t it wonderful?”





“Wow!” Twilight said, looking down at the filly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pony your color before. You look like you’d glow in the dark.”

“I do,” Hermione said, peering back up at the large pony. “It’s annoying.”

“I can’t see that being an evolutionary advantage,” Twilight mused, “which is probably why I haven’t seen a fluorescent pony before.”

“That is not reassuring,” Hermione confided.

“Yeah,” Twilight acknowledged, nodding, “but we do have a spell that alters the color of newborn foals. Because it is affected by a pony’s own self-image, it takes more magic to cast the older a pony gets. Since you are so new to being a pony, it might work on you reasonably well. Did you know Apple Bloom has a brother who was pink when he was born?”

“Are you saying I can change my color by willing it?” Hermione asked.

“No, but you can make the spell fail if you are too accustomed to your coloring.”

“Can you cast the spell?” Hermione asked hopefully.

“Not yet, I’m not a nurse, and I just know of it,” Twilight said, nudging the filly toward the main room of the library, “but I know which book to look in.”

“I love books,” Hermione offered.

“I’m not surprised.” Twilight grinned. “A book cutie mark kind of gives that away. Here’s a secret, I love books too.”

A subtle music filled the air as Hermione poured her heart into the next words. “Books are grand. Books are great. They hold our knowledge. They hold our fate.”

A smile split Twilight’s face as she intoned, “Books are culture. Books are priceless. Words of wisdom chase shadows with brightness.”

Spike could feel the magic building. This was part of what made Equestria special, songs from the heart that caught up everypony in chorus range. He knew what he had to do. Mustering his courage, he fled.





“Well dang,” Dean griped, “she’s not in the library, and she’s not in the Great Hall. Where else would she have gone?”

“Hold on a sec,” Parvati said. “I’m still in shock over her not being in the library.”

“Maybe she’s in the clinic,” Harry suggested. “She has been talking to the nurse lately.”

“Nah, Madam Pomfrey was in the Great Hall when we checked,” Abagail said.

“Or she could have gone to the Forbidden Forest.” Scootaloo said. “She did mention wanting to fraylick in it yesterday.”

“Frolic,” Sweetie corrected. “And we can’t look there, we promised Mr. Weasley.”

“Actually,” Apple Bloom spoke up, “we promised we wouldn’t go in without a reliable adult.”





“I can’t believe they just finished their third heartsong,” Roseluck gasped, out of breath, collapsing onto the ground after participating in an energetic chorus line.

“I can’t believe they just finished their third heartsong about books,” said Cherry Berry, wheezing for breath herself.

“I can’t believe they’re about to start another,” Cloud Kicker warned, pointing her hoof in the direction of the threat.

“What?” Roseluck jumped to her hooves. “Run for it!”





Hagrid opened the door to his hut to find a large number of first-year Gryffindors staring up at him hopefully. A unicorn mare stood further back, eyeing him warily. “Well, good mor’in' to the lot of ye. Don’t ye think it’s a might early to be out and about, like? I’ll wager you’ve yet to have some breakfast in ya.”

“Please, Mr. Hagrid,” Apple Bloom said, giving her best doe eyes, “we cain't find Hermione, an' she said something yesterday about frolicking in tha forest. We need a reliable adult to come look with us.”

Paling at the thought, Hagrid grabbed his crossbow and yelled over his shoulder at his still-sleeping dog, “Fang! Heel!” The first-years had to run to keep up with his long strides as he rushed into the forest.





“Lovely Books! Wonderful Books!

Lovely Books! Wonderful Books!

Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-ks

Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-ks

Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-ks

Bo-o-o-o-o-o-o-ks

Lovely Books!

Lovely Books!

Lovely Books!

Books! Books! Books! Books!”

“All right, this is getting out of hoof,” Rainbow Dash said, looking down the road in the direction of the singing.

“I’ll say,” Pinkie agreed. “They even overrode the title of the chapter.”

“What?” Applejack gave Pinkie a curious glance. “Anyhow, does anypony know who that filly is?”

“I have no idea, but I know she likes books,” Rainbow answered.

“I haven’t thrown a welcome party for her yet.” Pinkie frowned, ears drooping.

“I heard Twilight call her 'Hermione',” Rarity said. “I know I’ve heard that name somewhere before but cannot quite recall from where.”

“Oooo, oooo.” Pinky jumped up and down waving a hoof high over her head. “I know! I know! That was the name of one of the new crusaders.”

“She’s a Cutie Mark Crusader?” Applejack turned her attention to Pinkie. “Are y'all sure?”

“Yup!”

“Why am I not surprised?” Rainbow said, taking to the air to get a better look down the street.





“This is boring,” Scootaloo complained as they skirted just inside the forest, following Hagrid, who was looking for tracks.

“I don’t see no sign of ‘er,” Hagrid said turning on the first-years. “Are ye sure she came this way?”

“We couldn’t find her in the castle, and she did mention the forest earlier,” Harry replied. “We figured it would be better to be safe than sorry.”

“She’s probably back in yer common room right this very moment,” Hagrid said. “Why don’t the lot o' ye go an’ check. I kin handle sweeping the forest by meself.”

“Okay, thanks, Hagrid,” Harry said.

“An’ ye need to come visit me sometime when it ain’t an emergency,” the half-giant said before strolling deeper into the woods.





Minerva McGonagall exited her washroom to find an owl waiting on the back of one of her chairs. She quickly retrieved the letter it was carrying. Squinting, she deciphered the horrendous handwriting.

“Dear Minerva McGonagall,

Would you please come and get your student? She’s got the whole town in an uproar.

Thank you,

Rainbow Dash”

With a sigh, Minerva refolded the letter before looking at the satchel attached to the owl’s chest.





“Did ya have any trouble?” Applejack asked as Rainbow landed beside her.

“Naw!” Rainbow shook her head. “Lodestone was right in the barn, like you said. I wrote a quick letter and sent him on his way.”

“How long do you suppose it will take?” Rarity asked. “It will not be very long before ponies start dropping from exhaustion.”

“Applejack, you got mail.” Rainbow said, pointing with a wing and a smug smirk. “That didn’t take long.”

“Y'all need to stop doing that,” Applejack said before addressing the owl landing on her back, “That were quick, Lodestone; good owl.”

Rarity trotted forward and placed her horn on the owl’s satchel and said the release phrase, “Ex dimittere.”

“Baaaaarf!” the bag obediently replied

There was a stunned silence as the gathered ponies gawked at the passenger.

“She sent her cat?” Rarity said aghast, looking at the poor disheveled creature. “Why did she send us her cat?”

“Maybe Hermione is afraid of cats like Sweetie Belle,” Rainbow said, looking closer at the animal, whose eyes were still spinning in her head.

“Look out!” Pinkie suddenly shouted. “Here come Twilight and Hermione, and they look like they’re about to start another song!”





Shortly after the breakfast hour, Madam Pince stood next to Professor Sprout as the two watched the first-year Gryffindors and their transfigured escort rush down the hall, intent on searching yet another area of the castle for their wayward member.

“Do you think we should tell them where she is?” Madam Pince asked.

“Nah.” Professor Sprout said, “This is keeping them occupied and out of trouble, not to mention it’s good exercise.”





“Life is a bookcase! I wanna read it all night long!” The words could still be heard as the singers continued their march through the town.

Groaning Rainbow Dash flopped on the ground and said, “Finally! They’re out of range.”

“Anypony else have the sudden craving to read a good book?” Pinkie asked wearily.

“I did not know cats could sing and dance like that,” Rarity commented when her breath had returned. “I seem to have been lax in training Opal.”

The visiting cat looked at Rarity for a second then stood on its hind legs. It started towering over the ponies as it changed shape. “That was quite the experience,” Professor McGonagall said. “Does it happen often?”

Applejack gasped at the transformation before saying, “Howdy, you must be Professor McGonagall. Pleased to meet ya.”

“I would guess, by your accent that you are related to Apple Bloom,” Minerva said. “Applejack, I presume?”

“Yep, that’s m . . .”

“Human!”

“Lyra! No!” Bon Bon yelled after the blur as Minerva suddenly found her arms full of mint green unicorn.

“I knew you were real!” Tear-filled golden eyes drank in her appearance. “The legends are all true! I’m so happy to see you! I could just . . . just . . .”

Music started to swell up from the background and all the ponies present yelled, “No, Lyra, don’t!”





Anticipation hung heavy in the ballroom of the recently-transferred manor. A lone wizard tightly gripped the lead line as he entered the crowded ballroom where dozens of women were going through orientation. Stopping in front of the curious assembly he said, “Everypony, listen up. This here is a typical cow; her name is Maybell.”

“Hello, Maybell!” the women all cheerfully greeted in one voice.”

Maybell chewed her cud and stared dumbly at all the humans.

“That, rude.”

“Yeah, aren’t you going to say 'hi' back?”

“Who taught you your manners?”

Maybell proceeded to demonstrate the reason for keeping farm animals in the barn instead of the house.





Button Mash raised his head from the ground and glared at the unicorn lying not far from him, “Bad Lyra! No bonbon for you tonight!”

A hushed silence met his statement. After a minute Rarity asked, “Why did you say that, Button Mash?”

Confused, the colt answered, “When I’m bad, my mother says ‘Bad Button, no cookie for you tonight,’ and I’ve heard Lyra really likes bonbons.”

The adult ponies and one human continued to stare at the innocent colt.

“That’s it.” Rainbow said, “I’m calling it now. When he grows up, he’s going to have a marefriend named Cookie Crumble.”





The cozy private dining room was where Celestia and Luna shared their meals, breakfast and supper, first tea and nightcap. As avatars of day and night, respectively, dawn and dusk were the times that they were normally together, and the room afforded them the opportunity to act as sisters, rather than princesses.

As she was settling in for first tea, a burst of green flame startled Celestia, but her teacup stayed steady in her telekinetic grasp. As expected, a scroll materialized from the flames. Smiling Celestia said, "Look, Luna. I bet Twilight has another friendship lesson to share." Eagerly, the solar princess opened the missive with her magic and read. Her smile slowly drooped into a frown.

“What news?” Luna inquired when she noticed the frown develop on her sister’s face.

Celestia sighed. “It’s from Spike. He says that Ponyville is suffering from a plague of heartsongs.”

“Heartsongs?” Luna asked.

“Yes.” Celestia lowered the letter to the table. “So far, seventeen about books and one about humans.”

“Books?” Lunas voice rang with surprise. “Be there any chance that thy protegee is not somehow involved?”

Celestia gave Luna the dirtiest look she could muster.





To their dismay, the Gryffindor first-years were discovering that Hogwarts Castle was apparently dimensionally transcendental. It seemed that every time they found one hidden room, two more came into view. “Nothing in here except target dummies,” Neville commented as they checked yet another room. “Looks like a good place to practice spells though.”

“Where is that filly?” Apple Bloom groaned in disappointment, “Ah swear we’ve checked half the castle by now.”

“Oooo,” Luna called from the next doorway, “This one is full of books.” The students could feel magic beginning to build. To the human-born, this was a novel experience. The Cutie Mark Crusaders knew better. As one, they yelled, "Run!"
> Chapter 48: Granite, Gravity and Gravitas
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was a place where chaos had been vanquished. Only a privileged few could see the way in, far fewer that those who were truly deserving. The lawn was a sea of tranquility, neatly trimmed. There was not even so much as a blade of grass out of place, let alone litter from a careless passer-by. Row upon row of silent marble sentinels quashed any thought of frivolity. Each bore a pithy story in stone, a story of love lost but preserved for eternity. Each was a guardian of memories, marking a final resting place, regardless of what lay beneath, a stark reminder that all things must end.

A small crowd gathered in front of one stone that bore the tale of a couple taken before their time. They paid their respects, honoring the lives of the two while mourning their loss. Although their bodies lay inert, the couple still lived on, part of every beating heart among the gathering. Tears fell freely, tangible signals of what the gathering felt -- regret.

A woman with an almost giraffishly long neck knelt before the marker and reverently laid a bouquet dominated by white stargazer lilies. Pink and white carnations added volume and a splash of color, while a single yellow rose boldly announced its presence.

Between sobs, she spoke. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for so much. How could we have grown so far apart? The world of magic stole you from me, and I will forever hate it for that. Those bastards never even told me where you were buried. I miss you. I missed my chance to tell you I'm sorry in person. I hope you understand that you are my sister, now and forever, no matter how much we argued. If I had only been given the chance, I would have taken Harry in and raised him as my own. That damned magic that took you out of my life never even let him into mine. It denied my own flesh and blood the comfort of family."

The woman paused for a moment to compose herself before continuing. "Your friends tell me that you would have understood, that you would have forgiven me for something that was out of my control. My head knows this to be true, but my heart tells me that is a lie. There is not a night that doesn't keep me awake, the knowledge of the the monster that I was, the monster that I was forced to become. Tell me, how? How can I make it up to you? How can I make it up to him? I am so very sorry."





Well away from prying eyes, in the middle of her comfortable, windowless basement recreation room, Emma Granger sat on the creamy shag carpeting and multitasked two of her favorite activities. Anyone who knew her daughter would not have been surprised that reading was on the top of the list. Greedily, she guzzled the information on the basics of magic, reading through the large book propped up on a large throw pillow. She now had access to a world that she'd previously been denied; all it had taken was a request for her daughter to keep the lid of the trunk open. A veritable library was now at her disposal, and she was not about to let it go to waste, even if she could not cast a single spell.

The other activity was somewhere further down the list. Emma would never divulge where. As she read, her hands were elsewhere, pleasuring her husband. She had never had a pet as a child, and with Dan transfigured, she could indulge in something long desired. One hand casually scratched him behind an ear while the other guided a well-worn brush down his barrel.

“Would you stop kicking your hind leg like that?” Emma teased absently, not taking her eyes off of her reading material, “You’re shaking the book I’m trying to read.”

“Can’t help it,” Dan moaned.

“Can you at least stop drooling on my leg?”

“Oooooo.” Dan melted a bit more.

Emma sighed. “Live it up; in five more minutes it’s my turn.”





Deep in the bowels of Hogwarts, a pile of first-year students lay in the hallway. Everyone was slightly sweating as they shared a laughing fit and leaned against one another, trapping their self-appointed guardian beneath them.

“That was fun!” Luna Lovegood exclaimed “Let’s do it again.”

“One heartsong at a time,” Apple Bloom said, resting against Neville.

“I don’t think back to back heartsongs are even possible,” Scootaloo said. “That one sure caught me by surprise.”

“Wanker!” Magah complained from beneath the pile of children.

“You’ve done this before?” Parvati asked, draped across Ginny.

“Sure.” Sweetie Belle shrugged, disturbing Philomena, who had been snickering on her shoulder. “We have one or two weekly back home.”

“I’d love to see that someday,” Seamus said, “but why did it happen here?”

“No idea.” Sweetie shrugged again.

“I sense some leakage from Hermione,” a nattily-clad Discord remarked, peering down at the jumble of children.

There were a few seconds of surprised silence before most of the first-years cried out, “Discord!”

With a huge grin, Discord waved hello.

Harry latched onto what the man had just said. “Hermione? Do you know where she is? We’ve been worried sick over her.”

“I am sure she is having a good time in Ponyville,” Discord said. “I sent her there this morning to have a talk with Twilight. Thankfully, her trickle of fear stopped not too long after.”

“You sent Hermione to Ponyville?” Seamus questioned.

“An’ y'all didn’t tell us?” Apple Bloom squealed.

“Wanker!” Magah repeated, still under all of the children.

“You tell him Magah,” Scootaloo encouraged.

Discord raised a surprised eyebrow, “I just now told you,” he countered.

Lavender huffed, in frustration, grabbed the nearest object and threw it at Discord. Aghast, her herdmates stared at her in amazement as Ron's limbs flailed during his short flight into the wizard.

“Lavender Brown!” Apple Bloom scolded as Discord and Ron went down in a tangle of limbs. “No throwing colts!”

“Sorry!” Lavender muttered, her face turning red.





“REEEEEEEEADINGGGGGG IS FUUUUUN DAAA M . . .” Abruptly, the song cut off as if a switch were thrown despite the singers still waving their hooves dramatically and their mouths still moving.

All around, ponies stopped their accompaniment. Practically all of them dropped like puppets whose strings had been cut.

“That will be just about enough of that,” a lone human stated firmly, brandishing a wand and followed closely by a throng of frowning townsponies.

Suddenly aware of the havoc they had wreaked, Twilight and Hermione stopped their song and gawked at the downed backup singers.

“Thank you,” several of the exhausted rasped as they struggled to regain their breath.

“Just look at the damage you have caused,” McGonagall continued, marching up to the duo. “Everyone is a little hoarse.”

Silently, Hermione mouthed, "But you're a human!"

Pinkie flattened her ears against her skull. “That joke is getting old. Like really, really, really, really, old.”

With her own ears drooping, Twilight spoke, but no sound came forth. The lavender unicorn frowned before concentrating. A magenta aura emanated from her horn and washed over her. She repeated, "I'm sorry everypony. I don't know what came over me. That was undeniably a S.T.I.C.H.S. and nopony has yet to discern how and why they happen.”

There was much eye blinking until somepony asked, “What are stichs?”

“Well, you see, a S.T.I.C.H.S. is a sustained thaumatically ingeminated and compelled heartsong set,” Twilight said, taking on the tone of a college professor. “In the last six hundred years there have been seven confirmed and three suspected incidents. It’s actually very exciting to witness one first hoof.”

“Just what we need around here,” Carrot Top called out, “more excitement.”

“I know,” Twilight concurred. “Isn’t it great?”

“Twilight one; sarcasm zero,” Blue Bonnet commented from somewhere in the crowd.

“Wait!” Cherry Berry interjected. “How can there be three suspected incidents? It’s kind of hard to miss everypony breaking out in unending songs.”

“That’s a good question.” Twilight nodded at her. “You see, we can only presume the three incidents were S.T.I.C.H.S.s because everypony who could have been a witness was found expired due to exhaustion. Three small villages were wiped out, and the best explanation we have is S.T.I.C.H.S.”

The gathered townsponies regarded Twilight with wide open eyes and mouths before Cherry Berry said, “On second thought, I would have been just fine not knowing the answer to my question.”

“And on to safer subjects,” Banana Fluff said over the murmuring. “Who’s your singing accomplice? I don’t think I’ve met her before.”

“Oh,” Twilight said with a glance down at the bright orange filly, “thank you for reminding me. Everypony, I’d like you to meet Hermione, she is one of the newest Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

Hermione shyly waved at the crowd and said something, but no sound escaped her throat.

“Ooooooooooh,” chorused the crowd.

“She’s a Crusader?”

“That explains a lot.”

“Should have seen that coming.”

“No surprise here.”

“Does that mean all damages are coming from the Crusader relief funds?”

“What’s up with the strange looking minotaur, anyway?”

“I didn’t see any damages.”

“My cabbage cart got knocked over, trampled coleslaw everywhere.”

“Wait!” Cherry Berry called out, bringing the exchange to a screeching halt. “’One of the newest Cutie Mark Crusaders’? As in, they've added more than one?”

The resulting silence was palpable. It would have been the perfect time for a small breeze to come by and stir a few leaves for dramatic effect. However, all the pegasi were standing unnaturally still, holding the wind at bay.

“Sweet Celestia,” Lily Valley finally said, terror evident in her voice, “THEY'RE MULTIPLYING!”

"WE'RE DOOMED!" added Daisy.

Roseluck gasped, "The horror . . . the horror." On cue, the three collapsed, unconscious.





In an unexpected display of flexibility, Ron and Discord managed to disentangle their limbs. Once the two separated, the girls reached an unspoken consensus and group-hugged their benefactor.

“I’m sorry I used you as a target,” Lavender said with her arms around the man still sitting on the floor.

“Not a problem, my dear,” Discord said with a chuckle. “I was planning on practicing my dodging in the near future anyway.”

“Oh?” Dean asked. “That sounds like fun. Could you teach us?”

“This may be a wee bit out of your league.” Discord rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I was planning on showing a friend of mine some pictures depicting the destruction of some less than innocent books. I figure it will be good for a couple minutes of playing dodge the magic bolt.”

“Yer going to show Twilight pictures of books being mistreated?” Apple Bloom gasped. “Y'all need to screw yer head on tighter.”

“Yikes,” Scootaloo said, wincing, “You’re not talking about dodging magic bolts there. She’s going to pick up the town water tower and play whack-a-Discord . . . if you're lucky.”

“I’d ask if we could watch.” Sweetie Belle said, “but my survival instincts are stronger than that.”

Discord focused his attention on Sweetie and said, “Considering who that is coming from, I may have to rethink that particular course of action.”

The three original Crusaders all nodded their heads emphatically.

“Oh, who am I kidding? We all know that it will be a blast.” Discord waved a dismissive hand.

Apple Bloom sighed and placed her face in her hand. “Jus’ make sure that yer not in the town when ya do. It’ll cut back on the cleanup.”

“Actually,” Sweetie Belle said, “I heard that they were thinking of clearing the land just west of the dam for something or other. If you take her there first, you can pluck two flowers at once.”

“I just knew you would have some helpful insights.” Discord smiled widely. “Anyway, before we continue onto the reason for my visit, I see that you have added a couple of new members to your group.”

“Mr. Discord.” Parvati said with some flair, “This is Abagail Bates, and this is Luna Lovegood. Say 'hello' girls.”

“Hello.” Abagail said, bouncing and waving her hand with the speed of a hummingbird's wings.

“I like your eyes,” Luna demurely greeted.

“Thank you,” Discord said, standing up. “You are too kind. I do hope you are more lively than your namesake.”

“Ba kon,” Magah said as she leaned into Discord and started sniffing.

“Well, we cannot have you two feeling left out,” Discord said, producing a familiar puzzle box. “In fact, I think I will tweak these a little, just to keep things inter . . . Don’t sniff me there!”

“Wanker?” Magah said, her knowing look unmistakable.

“Not even remotely,” Discord growled.

“I’m sorry, Discord.” Sweetie frowned. “She doesn’t know that many words, yet.”

“And where did she learn such an offensive one?” Discord asked.

As one, the herd turned to look at one of their members.

Putting her hands behind her back, Lavender looked at the ground. “I tend to get a little expressive when I play games,” she muttered.

“I see,” Discord said, snapping his fingers. “It looks like we may need to work on your temper to keep it at an acceptable level.”

Turning noticeably redder, Lavender nodded her head without lifting her gaze from the ground.

“Here,” Discord said, holding out an object in his hand. “This will help.”

After accepting the object, Lavender said, “A bar of lavender soap? That’s terrible.”

“I guarantee that it will help you keep your language clean,” Discord said grinning.

“Thank you.” Lavender said softly, ashamed, sticking the bar into a pocket.

“Now, as I was saying,” Discord said, holding out a ring for each of the newest girls, “we can’t have you being the odd ones out.”

“Thank you!” Abagail said, all but snatching one of the rings. “Oh, thank you! thank you! thank you!”

Luna was more sedate in retrieving her own. “This is a wonderful gift, thank you,” she said. “I do have a question for you though.”

“Go ahead, dear,” Discord said, leaning his head toward her in acknowledgement.

“Is it hard to walk around with such mismatched legs?”

Discord blinked in surprise, “I manage just fine,” he said cautiously.

“Yes,” Luna said tilting her own head as she studied him, “I suppose you would.”

Discord gave Luna a barrage of questioning looks before saying, “On that note, Harry, you have an appointment with Mending Psyche. I am here to escort you to her office.”

“Do I have to?” Harry blanched.

“No,” Discord said, “but I think it will help, and I wish to at least pretend to be a responsible adult.”

“If you want to stop pretending.” Dean said with an evil grin, “you could always give us a couple of flame throwers to play with. That would even it out.”

Discord gave Dean a calculating look.





A large group of ponies sat with an outlier around an outdoor café table, awaiting somepony to take their order as the nibbled on breadsticks and blossoms. The misfit had an attentive admirer sitting so close that the mint mare was practically climbing into her lap.

“How much can you pick up with your fingers?”

“Lyra, please,” Bon Bon moaned, “let the poor creature eat in peace.”

“Is it true that you’re an omnivore?”

“Lyra!”

“Ah’m surprised yer not helping with the barrage of questions,” Applejack said, looking directly at Twilight.

“I’m feeling strangely drained,” Twilight admitted. “Besides, I plan on exploring the human world later this week. I know I was excited at the idea earlier, but right now I can’t seem to drum up the energy to care.”

“After that many heartsongs, I can see why, darling,” Rarity said. “Perhaps a visit to the doctor’s office is in order.”

“You were planning on exploring our world?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Yes.” Twilight nodded. “How could I pass up the opportunity to learn about a new culture?”

“You are so taking me with you,” Lyra insisted.

“It would be best if you had a guide,” Professor McGonagall firmly said.

“I didn’t want to impose,” Twilight said, letting her head drift toward the table.

“You have to have a guide or else you could get hurt,” Hermione said, not looking up from the menu she was reading. “Our world has hazards you’re not used to.”

“You are so taking me with you,” Lyra reiterated. “Wait! ‘Our world’? You’re a human too?”

“Maybe?” Hermione permitted.

“Twilight,” Lyra seethed, “you’ve been holding out on me.”

“I’m sure I can arrange an escort.” Professor McGonagall placed a placating hand on Lyra’s head and absently began to scratch. “If I ask, I am sure I could convince Sirius to show you around.”

Twilight's head shot up, and she cast hope-filled eyes at Minerva. “Do you think he would?”

“I do believe it would be safe to say that he would,” Minerva said as it was Lyra’s turn to have her head drift toward the table.

“Isn’t that the stallion you were talking about earlier?” Rarity asked, her senses perking in anticipation of impending gossip.

Twilight nodded, her head once more drifting towards the table. “He was one of the stallions at the meeting with Harry Potter.”

“Twilight’s got a crush,” Pinkie declared in a singsong voice.

“I do not.” Twilight let her head connect with the flat surface. “He’s just a nice stallion I’ve recently met.”

“You’re lying.” Rainbow Dash started, before thinking better of it. She sent an inquisitive glance in Applejack’s direction.

Applejack hid a smirk before nodding.

“You are so lying.” Rainbow teased, “You think he’s cute.”

“No fair using Applejack,” Twilight complained.

“So, you admit you find him cute?” Rarity prodded.

“You girls are jumping to conclusions,” Twilight objected.

A bright flash of light flared and suddenly, there were two more ponies standing not far from the café table.

“Hello Princess Celestia! Hello Princess Luna!” Pinkie waved from her seat. “You’re just in time for lunch!”

“Princess Celestia!?” Twilight’s head popped up and she looked around wildly. After, locking her eyes on her mentor she smiled, “Oh, hi there, it’s good to see you.” She laid her head back on the table and started snoring.

“Okay,” Rainbow said, eyeing her lavender friend, “that’s not normal.”





Fay ran into the first-years on her way to the Great Hall for lunch. “Hello there,” she said. “Where are you lot heading? It’s almost time for lunch.”

“We were just headed outside for a little target practice,” Apple Bloom answered.

“Well, that can wait. Like I said, it’s almost lunch time and then Quidditch tryouts are right afterwards. Our new captain wants you all on the field for that.” Fay considered the younger children for a moment. “And what exactly are you all wearing on your backs?”

“Nothing.” Dean said.

“Uh huh.” Fay mused, “And why do your nothings have ‘Warning Flammable’ written all over them?”





With the glow of her horn painting Twilight’s sleeping form, Princess Celestia said, “I don’t detect anything wrong with her that a good night’s sleep won’t remedy.” Then, turning her eyes on the fluorescent filly, she continued “And you were her duet partner for every song?”

“Yes, your highness.” Hermione nodded her head.

“It is indeed strange that thou are not similarly afflicted,” Princess Luna reflected, as she casually held a dull grey apple-sized rock in her magic. “Are thou not the least fatigued?”

“No, your highness,” Hermione said.

“Most puzzling,” Celestia said casting an array of diagnostic spells on the filly, “and most frustrating. It’s been almost a hundred years since the last S.T.I.C.H.S., and we are no closer to understanding them now than we were then.”

“I have to ask.” Rainbow said, “What’s the deal with the rock?”

“Tis none other than the original versebreaker stone.” Luna hovered the artifact closer to Rainbow Dash so that the mare could examine it.

“So, it absorbs songs?” Rainbow ventured, leaning close to scrutinize the nondescript rock.

“Not quite,” Celestia said still examining the filly, “S.T.I.C.H.S. are a wild form of magic. They negate most traditional spells and ensnarl anypony unlucky enough to get too close. It took three teams of unicorns a year to enchant it, but the stone will seek out the main singer and force unconsciousness upon them, thus ending the heartsongs.”

“So, it has a powerful sleeping spell attached to it?” Pinkie asked, also leaning forward to examine the stone.

“That’s one interpretation,” Celestia said. “Let's leave it at that.”





“Hello, Harry Potter,” Mending said as she entered the cheery room full of colorful beanbag chairs. “I hope you had a pleasant week.”

“Yes, thank you.” Harry politely stood to greet the mare. “I had fun learning magic and being with my friends. How was your week?”

“My week has been interesting.” Mending said, then gestured and the elderly blue pegasus following her. “Allow me to introduce Sky Sunder. She has asked to observe this session if that is all right with you.”

“Hello ma'am.” Harry addressed the older pegasus. “I am pleased to meet you.”

“He is a well-mannered colt,” Sky Sunder said approvingly.

“It is an improvement over the last time we spoke,” Mending said. “Though, to be fair, he was overwhelmed by all the attention he had been receiving.”

“I'm sorry if I was rude,” Harry apologized.

“You weren't rude,” Mending said in a comforting tone. “You were much more guarded, though.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry repeated.

“Don’t be, dear,” Sky Sunder said, easing herself onto a red beanbag chair that clashed horribly with her coat. “From what I hear, you handled yourself very well for being in such a strange situation. After all, you are in a new world, wearing a new body.”

“Speaking of bodies,” Mending said, “I would like to see you in your birth form if you would feel comfortable showing us.”

“Yes ma'am.” Harry said, “I’m okay with that.”

With that, Harry transfigured back into the guise of a Gryffindor first-year, standing taller than the two ponies.

“Thank you, Harry,” Mending said, coming closer to examine the colt. “I've been consulting with minotaurs this week and you don't seem too different from them. Just notably smaller with a different head structure altogether.”

“Yes ma'am,” Harry agreed.

“You may change back, if you like,” Mending said. “Are you comfortable in your pony form?”

“Yes ma'am. I spend most evenings in pony form, after we are done with our homework.” Harry shrank back into a sky-clad pegasus and lay down on a mauve beanbag.

“I am very pleased to hear that.” Mending found a garish beanbag of her own to claim. “I admit to being worried you might reject your new form.”

“No ma'am, I am very fond of being a pony.”

“Why don’t we lose the 'ma'am'. Although it is proper, you are making me feel old. Please, just call me 'Mending'.”

Harry complied. “Okay, Miss Mending.”

“Better,” Mending said with a hint of approval, “but still a touch too formal.”

“So, you like being a pony?” Sky Sunder said breaking into the conversation. “Does that mean you've been teaching yourself how to fly?”

“No ma'am.” Harry shook his head. “It wouldn’t be fair to Scootaloo if we started that without her. We’re waiting until she can change along with us.”

“That is very compassionate of you,” Mending said. “Now, I’d like to ask you a question that I asked you last week.”

“Yes Mending?” Harry said giving the mare his full attention.

“Are there any adults you trust?”

“Yes, I have a list of adults I feel I can trust,” Harry said. After a second's thought, he added, “Actually, that's not completely true. I have a list of adults I don't distrust, but only one that I trust.”

“That's a good start.” Mending smiled encouragingly. “May I ask who is the one adult you do trust?”

Harry nodded and said, “That would be Mr. Discord.”





Hermione drifted along amid the multicolored sea of legs. She looked with concern at the mint green unicorn at her side before looking up at the lavender load lofted two meters above the throng. With worry evident in her voice, she asked, "Are you sure you have to carry her so high off the ground?"

"Don't worry," Lyra said dismissively. "Twilight's a lightweight. Besides, this way, nopony'll accidentally bump into her. She needs her sleep."

"But what about you? You nodded off at lunch. Couldn't you just set her in a cart and roll her along?"

Lyra replied, "That power nap was just what the doctor ordered. Besides, we've got the fastest flyer in Equestria keeping an eye on her."

“But she's up there awfully high,” Hermione argued.

“Don’t fret, darling,” Rarity said, reaching down to nuzzle the distraught filly. “Twilight is perfectly safe.”

“Okay,” Hermione said reluctantly.

“Why are y'all so worried like?” Applejack asked.

“Tisn't natural to be up so awfully high,” Hermione whimpered.

“We're not that far up,” Rainbow said from where she was flying next to Twilight. "Even Rarity could jump this high if she wanted to."

“You've got wings,” Hermione countered. “Falling is not a thing for you.”

“Hold on a sec here,” Applejack said, eyeing Hermione, “Yer a bit too worried over a little bit o’ levitation. Y'all wouldn't happen to be ascared o' heights, would you?”

Hermione didn't answer but continued to eye Twilight warily instead.

“You are afraid of heights.” Rainbow said with an evil grin, “You’re in luck; we have a cure for that.”





Whenever house elves were involved, meals could be guaranteed to be of the highest quality. What set the Great Hall at Hogwarts apart was the uncanny way in which the menu always seemed to feature choices that pleased every palate. History was being made as a woman with long, silvery-blonde hair stared down at the soup plate that had been set in front of her. After a tentative sniff, she scowled in disgust. To the dismay of every gastronome in the room, she protested loudly.

“Ba kon!”

“No, Magah,” Sweetie Belle said. “There is no bacon for lunch today. Now, please eat your goulash like a good big unicorn.”

“Ba kon!”

“I told you no, you are not getting any bacon right now. Eat what I put in front of you.”

“Ba kon!”

Sweetie Belle picked up a spoonful from Magah's bowl and pretended to eat a bite. "Mmmm. Tasty." The girl extended the spoon toward the transfigured unicorn who turned away.

"Ba kon!"

The phoenix on her shoulder took advantage of the distraction to claim the contents of the spoon. Sweetie Belle said, "See? Philomena likes it."

"Ba kon!"

"How about some brussels sprouts? Don't you just love that nutty flavor?"

“Ba kon!”

“Did you seriously just foist your share of brussels sprouts off on your unicorn?” Seamus asked.

“Ba kon!”

“Don't be silly.” Sweetie pointed at the table. “They are sitting on a platter for those who want them. If you don't like them, don't take them.” The girl speared one with her fork and held it up to her shoulder. Philomena stuck out her tongue before incinerating the offensive offering. The others at the Gryffindor table stared in shock as Sweetie savored the ashen sacrifice. "Yummy! Just like Mom used to make!"

“Ba kon!”

“Still, giving her those evil little things is probably a bad idea.” Dean opined.

“Ba kon!”

“I said 'no', Magah. Eat your goulash.”

“Ba kon! Ba kon! Ba kon!”

“You do realize,” Parvati said, sitting down at the table after returning from a talk with her sister, “you are effectively losing an argument against someone with a one-word vocabulary.”

“Ba kon!”

“Don't laugh,” Terisa said. “Anyone with small children will tell you just how easy it is to do that.”

“Ba kon!”

“Besides, Parvati.” Neville put in his two knuts. “You know Magah has a vocabulary of at least four words.”

“Ba kon!”

Parvati realized Luna was watching her with unblinking eyes, “What?” she asked of the little blonde.

“Ba kon!”

“Nothing.” Luna answered and returned to her meal.

“Ba kon!”

“For the love of Merlin!” an older student from the Ravenclaw table shouted, “Give her a BLT already and shut her up.”

“Ba kon?”

The war of wills hung in the balance.





As Hermione looked down at the ground rapidly racing up to meet her, the analytical portion of her mind finally kicked in. To counter her spin, she had to draw her limbs close and then spread them suddenly, increasing her moment of inertia. While she was by no means enjoying the experience, it was no longer inducing absolute terror. To her surprise, she could not remember how many times she had been dropped from the clouds. She was now confident that one of the pegasi watching her would catch her before she reached terra firma. If Rarity's story were to be believed, Scootaloo's mother was more than fast enough to serve as the last line of defense.

Ruefully, she reflected on the experience. She could barely stand during the breaks; solid ground did not have the undulations of the cloud. The honey-laced tea the nurse gave her had chased some of the soreness from her throat, but the fear had drawn out all the liquid over the course of the subsequent drops.

With her peripheral vision, she watched the first catcher swoop in, matching her speed. Gently he grasped her in his forelimbs and descended in a lazy spiral. As they touched down in front of the nurse, Hermione waved her back. She wouldn't be needing the soothing tea any more. Her acrophobia still demanded her attention. However, Hermione had finally realized that screaming in terror did get boring after a while.
> Chapter 49: Last Minute Additions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was far hotter than any civilized place should be in mid-September. It was with good reason that only mad dogs and Englishmen were expected out at this hour. Strictly speaking, Dolores Umbridge was neither, despite what her detractors would say. Three layers of cooling charms had barely made a dent in the oppressive heat. Surely, the filthy natives must have a trick to endure such abysmal conditions. Umbridge seethed at the thought of being exiled to such an abominable place. Porcine rights activists everywhere would have been outraged as perspiration turned the pink-clad figure into an obscene parody of their clientele.

The wizarding world should never have come to this. Purebloods were the elites, the ruling class. It was their duty to put others in their place. The traitorous mudbloods had ruined everything, usurping what was rightfully the domain of their betters. There was no place in magical Britain for purebloods now. Umbridge was a fugitive, unjustly persecuted for performing her duty to ensure the betterment of wizarding society. How many more purebloods must fall victim to the madness that the mudbloods had wrought?

Only a complete idiot could miss what was coming. Every major pureblood house that had helped her in the raid now lay in shambles. There must have been a traitor in their midst; there could be no other explanation for the ambush that had awaited them. Those brave patriots who had accompanied her had been condemned to ignoble deaths as traitors when they should have been hailed as heroes. The mudbloods’ nonsensical laws had been their doom. The worst was yet to come; the illegitimate regime was sure to strip the purebloods of their rights at the next Wizengamot session. With their ranks decimated, the pureblood faction did not stand a chance. The future was indeed bleak.

Umbridge might be down, but she was far from out. As inhospitable as Egypt’s meteorological climate was, its political climate was inviting. Here, she was beyond reach of the Britain’s aurors and their allies. She also had the resources to re-establish herself. Former Minister Fudge had made Umbridge responsible for salting away the spoils of his office where no auditor could go. She had been careful to link the funds to the office, rather than to the man. Thus, when Fudge fell, it had been her duty as executor of the Ministry to transfer the funds to someone who could be trusted to further the cause. The only one worthy was she. She and her fortune were now safe from anything the mudbloods would dare send. She would secure a modest house and bide her time. Make no mistake; the one the locals called “faras nahr” would rise again.





Ravenclaws could argue for hours on end as to whether their common room were a lounge with an inordinately large number of bookcases or a library with uncommonly comfortable appointments. Regardless, it was a bibliophile’s dream. Generation upon generation of students had donated texts. The ever-growing collection spanned a multitude of subjects. Those outside the house might be surprised to learn that the stacks also had sections devoted to muggle technology and philosophy.

The precious collection was protected by multiple layers of fire suppressant wards. Even the fireplace had been sacrificed in the name of safety. Though it it had never been tested, the room was reputed to be impervious to even the much-dreaded fiendfire. Although the temperature could never even come close to 451 degrees Fahrenheit, one third-year boy would attest that the room could get uncomfortably hot.

“Myrtle,” he protested, “I don’t want to cuddle right now; I want to read.”

“We can do both at the same time,” replied the revenant as she caressed the backs of his hands.

With a sigh, he asked, “Isn’t there something you’d like to be reading?”

“I’ve read more books over more shoulders than I care to remember.”

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company, don’t you ever think of anything else besides cuddling and kissing?” he said, relaxing into her embrace.

“Yes, but you are still too young yet.”

“That sounds scary and ominous.” He shuddered slightly. Myrtle snuggled against him until the trembling stopped.

Myrtle whispered into his ear. “When you use the word ‘exciting’ instead, I’ll know you’re ready.”

“You don’t act like other girls,” he noted.

“Give them time. They just haven’t got their priorities straight yet.”





The quidditch pitch was buzzing with excitement as at least a third of the Gryffindor house stood with the first-years as they awaited the arrival of Oliver Wood. Most present held a broom, and the looks of eager anticipation were aplenty.

“What are you doing here?” one of the older boys asked, his tone approaching a sneer. “First years can’t play on the team.”

“That’s not true,” Katie Bell corrected. “They just can’t bring their own brooms yet. Oliver checked, and there are no rules barring them from playing.”

“Can I just go fly now?" one of the more colorful first-years asked. "Waiting around doing nothing when I can be up in the air is just wrong,” 

“You’re just worried that we’ll show you up,” Ron challenged, holding up his battered Nimbus 2000. “You don’t think you have what it takes.”

“Ron,” Abagail hissed at him, “last time I checked, you can’t fly in a straight line to save your life.”

“It’ll just take a little practice,” Ron huffed.

“If they can’t own brooms, why do they all have one? Those aren’t school brooms.”

“Borrowed them from the twins,” Terisa said nonchalantly. “There are no rules against that.”

“Basically, we are letting them buy their way onto the team.” The first boy snarled, “There is no way our brooms are going to stand up to theirs during tryouts.”

“Ron,” Apple Bloom questioned, “how much better are our brooms?”

“A lot,” Ron admitted sheepishly.

“Then it’s not fair.” Apple Bloom set her jaw. “Everyone grab a school broom instead.”

“Then you’d be at an unfair disadvantage,” Katie said, halting the first-year’s migration toward the aforementioned brooms. “School brooms are questionable at best.”

“How do we fix it then?” Parvati asked. “And why does your quidditch Captain want us first-years trying out, anyway?”

“Because Scoot is so wicked on a broom that he’s ready to give her starting seeker, no questions asked. The rest of us are just here for show,” Dean reminded her.

Sweetie Belle said, “What if we let the others borrow our brooms when they try out?”

The first boy sneered, “You lot couldn’t handle a school broom, let alone a top of the line model. You don’t have the skills or the guts.”

An agitated first-year said, “Are you calling us chickens?”

The first boy flapped his elbows and clucked.

The first-year growled, “Which house broom is the worst?”

“Number thirteen, the Widowmaker.”

The first-year held out her hand. “Widowmaker, to me.” Obediently, the broom leapt from across the pitch to her palm. The girl handed her Nimbus 2000 to Sweetie Belle.

The first boy said, “Nice parlor trick. You still don’t stand a chance against me.”

“Forget this, and forget you. I’ve got a broom, and the skies are calling. Someone come and get me when things get started.”

The gathered students watched one of their members take to the air on a decrepit house broom, and soon, all thoughts of tryouts went on the back burner.

“I wonder if Oliver is going to choose a reserve seeker as well,” the older boy mused.





In the magical land of Equestria, one not so little girl was living out a fantasy that would have made her former peers green with envy. She was among a multitude of miniature candy-colored ponies, each a person in their own right. As much as they were the stuff of legends to her, she was the same to them.

She had been summoned to this place to vanquish a menace to the land, and now, she had been called in front of its rulers. The fantasy had started to crumble when she found herself on the wrong end of a routine debriefing, and things had gotten worse when she had to answer for the condition of one of her charges.

The discussion of legalities and politics was mercifully cut short when a bespectacled, raven-maned aide entered the formal gardens to deliver a whispered message to the princesses. Minerva’s hosts politely excused themselves to attend an urgent matter, leaving her with a promise to return shortly. This gave the witch a chance to gather her wits and to freshen up.

Anatomical differences had made using the facilities an adventure in itself. She was reasonably sure she had used the appropriate fixtures. As she returned to the lavish gazebo, she noticed something out of place. A casual observer would have missed it. However, decades of honing her skills in transfiguration had gifted her with an acute eye for detail. The border of nondescript rocks now had one more rock.

With her curiosity piqued, Minerva channeled her house’s ethos and investigated the unremarkable anomaly. A quick wave of her wand showed it had immensely more inherent magic than its neighbors, making it even more unique. Cautiously, she gently poked it with her foot.

In an annoyed countertenor, the rock sang, “Leave me alone. I’m only a stone.”

Nodding to herself in satisfaction, Minerva returned to the gazebo and settled down, sipping a delicious tea blend she was sure was unavailable any place on Earth. After hearing about the versebreaker stone, she was, understandably, reluctant to test the patience of a random talking rock.




The prospective players continued to stare skyward in amazement. The Widowmaker should have maneuvered like an arthritic centenarian. A standing eight to falling leaf should have been impossible in a space the size of a student’s trunk.

“Wait a minute.” Abagail said. She took her eyes off the aerial ballet she had been witnessing to look down at Hermione’s broom, which she was still holding. “Brooms have names? They know their names and come when called?”

“I guess so.” Sweetie acknowledged, looking at her own broom, “I guess I’ll name mine Mr. Twittersticks.” Sweetie’s broom shuddered violently from side to side in her grip, while Scootaloo's bobbed up and down as if laughing.

“Um,” Dean said before fixing his own broom with a questioning gaze. “Sideswipe?” His broom remained still. “Ron, what are you going to name yours?”

“Murphy.”

“That’s just asking for it. Murphy’s an optimist,” Seamus said. “Mine’s Brown Thunder.” The others stepped away from him, holding their noses. Ignoring them, he asked, “What about you, Apple Bloom?”

“Tinder.”

“That seems kind of cruel,” Parvati said.

“It’ll keep him honest,” Apple Bloom replied.





“What’s this?” she considered the news brought before her, “Ahhhhh yes, opportunity.”

This was something she might be able to work with. However, she knew better than to take anything for granite. 





Ponies were a resilient lot, and the residents of Ponyville were especially so. Being in close proximity to the Everfree Forest drew disaster like flies to honey, and the princess’s student seemed to be an open invitation to fate. The latest incident didn’t even rank at the top of the scale; it was somewhere between “rage at fate” and “lose your lunch”. The town center had returned to business as usual, with its casual, friendly atmosphere. Everypony exchanged polite greetings as they passed, and shoppers and merchants dickered, hoping to land the best prices. Lodestone napped, perched on Applejack’s back as the farmer sedately strolled with Spike and Rarity toward Carousel Boutique. The owl ignored the pronking pink pony who completed the group.

“I am ever so grateful you agreed to help,” gushed Rarity. “Goodness knows how long I would need to catch up on my own, and this morning’s activities set me back even further.

“Anything for you, Rarity,” Spike said dreamily.

“The Cakes remembered how generous you were last time they were in a jam; we’re happy to help,” added Pinkie Pie, bouncing in time with her words.

“Ah don’t rightly know how much use Ah’ll be,” Applejack said. “This frou-frou stuff ain’t exactly up my alley, but Ah’m willing to lend a hoof anyway y’all see fit.”

Silently, an unknown owl glided in and landed on Rarity’s back.

“Oh look,” Spike said. “You’ve got mail.”

“Here now,” Applejack said. “Ah’m trying to get Rainbow to stop that; don’t you start up with it.”

“Is it from Sweetie Belle?” Rarity asked, arching her neck to examine the bird on her back.

“Let’s see,” Pinkie said, bouncing closer. “Nope, it’s a small package addressed to Applejack.”

“If’n it’s a chest, Ah’m running for it,” Applejack said, coming over to relieve the owl of its burden.

At the word “chest”, several ponies who had been meandering close by perked their ears in alarm. In no time, there was a respectable clearing around the four friends. The phrase “as if by magic” would have been a good description if not for all of the earth ponies boosting their speed, making it literally by magic in some cases. The pegasi had the good sense to steer clear of the bearers, and the unicorns in the throng simply didn’t have the talent to teleport away.

“It doesn’t look like a chest,” Pinkie said as the farmpony detached the package with her teeth. “Just a normal bit-sized package wrapped in twine.”

“It’s probably just shrunk, darling,” Rarity said. “Allow me to tap it with my horn.”

Applejack placed the package on the ground and took a step backward. “Thank you kindly.”

After applying the required three taps, Rarity also stepped back and watched the package. The bundle seemed to pause and think for a second before it decided to grow, expand, elongate, and generally get bigger. Then, just because it could, it grew some more.

“Well, that’s big, whatever it is,” Spike commented, looking up at the bundle wrapped in brown paper. It had to be at least two times as tall as Big Mac. “Apple Bloom sure sent you one heck of a present.”

“That’s not a present.” Pinkie corrected, sitting on her haunches and scrutinizing the twine turned rope that held the monstrosity together.

“What makes you say that?” Rarity asked, sitting next to her. “It looks like a present to me.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t feeeeeeel like a present.” Pinkie insisted.

“And pray tell, how exactly does a present feel?” Rarity looked at her pink friend inquisitively.

“You know.” Pinkie shrugged, “All presently and such, --like a smile, not like this. This feels too businessy and pragmatical, like a delivery of flour.”

“Does it feel hungry?” Rarity questioned warily.

“I don’t know.” Pinkie shrugged again. “Open it and find out.”

“I’ll pass.” Rarity shuddered and fluffed her mane with a hoof. “Besides, it belongs to Applejack, and that would be rude.”

“Anypony got a pair o’ scissors?” Applejack called out after circling the package twice. There was a muttering of noes from the gathering crowd.

“Oooh! Oooh!” Pinkie declared, “I have a pair.” She sank her hoof into her mane and withdrew a large pair of hedge clippers.

“Why ever did you have that in your mane?” Rarity gasped.

“Don’t be silly,” Pinkie said, bouncing over to Applejack. “I’m a baker; of course I have a pair of scissors in my mane.”

“Um.” Spike whispered to Rarity, watching Pinkie hoof over the tool to Applejack. “Why exactly would a baker need a pair of scissors in her mane?”

“I don’t know,” Rarity said, “and I’m not going to ask.”

“Here goes,” Applejack called out before closing the blades on the seemingly knotless rope. After being cut, the rope yanked back and pulled itself away from the package. The thick cord twisted and turned before coiling itself up and landing right in front of Applejack.

“Huh?” Applejack said, nudging it with a hoof. “That thar is handy.” Then without another word, she grabbed the brown wrapping paper on her mouth and tugged.

“Woah!” Spike said gawking at the large pile of exposed bags. “That’s a lot of kibble.”

“There is enough there to feed every dog in Ponyville for a decade,” Rarity agreed.

“Well that is right responsible of Apple Bloom,” Applejack said taking her hat off her head. “An’ it’s one worry off mah list.”

“You were expecting this?” Mayor Mare asked, stepping forward since the trunk present alert was cancelled.

“Not exactly, but it is a welcome sight.” Applejack put her hoof in her hat and withdrew parchment and a pencil.

“Why’s that?” Mayor Mare prompted.

“It’s fer Fluffy,” Applejack answered around the pencil as she jotted a quick note.

“Fluffy?” the mayor asked, “Do I want to know?”

“Apple Bloom got herself a dog.” Applejack turned to Lodestone, who was still on her back, “‘Ere, take this to Big Mac; we’re gonna need the big wagon.”

“Well,” Mayor Mare considered, “is it likely to cause a panic?”

“Ya can bank on it,” Applejack asserted.

The mayor winced at the reply before sighing. “Thank you for the heads up.” She spun to trot back to her office.

“You know,” Pinkie commented, “this would be easier to carry if we could shrink it again.”





A dark cloud seemed to follow Oliver Wood as he trudged out to the quidditch pitch, significantly later than he had originally planned. For the entire walk from the castle, he had kept his eyes firmly locked on the ground as he wallowed in self-pity. He was therefore surprised when he looked up and saw a good portion of his house staring skyward in awe. He hurried over to the crowd and looked up himself. “Is that Scoot?”

“Yes,” Katie Belle said, “she’s been giving us a right glorious show.”

“What is she riding?”

“That would be the Widowmaker,” Angelina Johnson said.

“Aaaarrrrgh!” Oliver commented.

“Don’t make such a fuss,” Katie huffed. “I’m sure she’ll be loads better with her Nimbus. She’ll be practically unstoppable. The cup is as good as ours.”

“Aaaaaaarrrrgggghhhh!” Oliver re-emphasized.

“Oliver!” Terisa snapped at him. “Grow up! Whatever is the matter with you?”

“I just got done talking to Madam Hooch.” Oliver waved a hand in disgust in the direction of the castle. “She told me that Dumbledore has issued a lifetime quidditch ban on Scoot, and she’s not allowed on the team.”

“Aaaarrrrghhh!” quite a few of the students on the pitch echoed. 





A gust of wind cleared the center of the Ponyville town square. A familiar flash of light left behind the Princess of the Sun and the Gryffindor Head of House. The ponies bowed to acknowledge both the princess and their savior before going on with their business.

“Thank you for spending the day with us,” Celestia said as she led her guest toward their destination. “You have allayed many of my concerns, and I am most pleased that my little ponies are in such capable . . . hands.” 

“I am happy to be of assistance,” Minerva replied. “Though, I am most perturbed over what you are accusing Albus of. I can only think that he has lost sight of what is right in his pursuit of protecting our world. I have no idea what he was thinking and his actions are unforgivable. It is only because Fawkes has not abandoned him, that I have not lost all respect for him.”

“Normally, I would counsel words of forgiveness for such a long-standing friendship.” Celestia said in a sorrowful voice, “I too have had those I cherish lose their way. However, the deliberate mistreatment of a minor make such words empty.”   

“Albus must have had a good reason for doing what he did.” Minerva shook her head. “He is not an evil man. He can be distant and forgetful of what it was like to be young, but outright cruelty and harm are not in his character. He even strongly advocates forgiveness for even the worst of us. I find it difficult to associate these actions with the man I knew.”

“The descent is often preceded by doing what one feels must be done in defiance of what is good and right. When one is responsible for many others, this truth is often amplified.” Celestia sighed.

Minerva sighed as well. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s a muggle saying,” Minerva said. “Basically what you just said only in fewer words.”

“I see.”

The two ruminated in silence for a moment before Celestia asked, “Are we in agreement that Albus Dumbledore must not have any more say in the life of Harry Potter?”

“I could not consider myself a friend of the Potters if I thought otherwise,” Minerva said. “It is to my eternal regret and shame that I had not taken action sooner.”

The two elder females resumed their silence for the remainder of the walk to the Carousel Boutique.





The oaken double doors to the study in the opulent mansion practically flew off their hinges. A young voice cried out, “Daddy! She just went into the boutique. Hurry, we need to catch her before she leaves!”





“Okay,” the still-depressed Oliver Wood said, “we may not have our star seeker, but at least we can add Apple as a reserve beater.”

“She only managed to hit a bludger once,” Katie complained. “Every other candidate has done loads better.”

“Yes, but her bludger is still buried three feet in the pitch in three pieces. With practice, she's going to be a terror on the field.”





Rainbow Dash shepherded a slightly wobbly fluorescent orange filly with a hint of green into Rarity's home and place of business. She was greeted with the sight of several ponies, a baby dragon, and a human finishing off the last of a massive backlog.

“Hello Mrs. Dash. Hello Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said. “I do hope your time has been well spent.”

“I am sure that it was.” Rarity cantered over to examine the filly. “Have you overcome your fear of heights?”

“It's manageable.” Hermione muttered.

“Don't worry squirt,” Rainbow chimed. “A few more sessions and you'll be wondering what you were afraid of in the first place.”

“Did I say manageable?” Hermione quickly spoke up. “I meant to say that it is completely cured. No acrophobia here. Absolutely none.”

“Nice try.” Rainbow said, ruffling the filly's mane with a hoof, “but you do realize that the Element of Honesty is standing right there.”

“Howdy.” Applejack raised a hoof in acknowledgment.

“No fair.” Hermione pouted. “There should be a law against that.”

“Funny,” Applejack mused, “a whole mess o’ nobles said the exact same thing, las’ time Ah attended day court.”

“That is funny.” Pinkie said. “Last time I was at day court everypony kept saying ‘icing doesn't go there!’. I wonder if there’s a connection.”

Hermione blinked at Pinkie but said nothing.

A bell above the front door chimed, interrupting the conversation as it heralded the arrival of three new ponies.

“Hello,” called an outrageously pink unicorn. Pinkie Pie blinked as she tried to fathom the concept of somepony pinker than she.

The unicorn continued, “Sorry to bother you but a little rock told us the headmistress of a notable magic school was on the premises.”

“Yeah,” her male companion said as his knees nearly buckled under the weight of the massive sack on his back. “We have a new student for her.”

At those words, a creamy yellow unicorn filly hesitantly stepped forward and said, “Hello, my name is Clouded Hope.”

“Hello Miss Hope.” Professor McGonagall addressed the child, “I am the deputy headmistress for Hogwarts. Am I to understand you wish to attend our school?”

“Yes please,” the filly replied shyly.

“Ahem,” the pink mare said. “My name is Pink Zircon. My husband and I wish to enroll our child.”

The brown earth pony stallion gave a small heave, rolling the sack off his back. The floor trembled at the impact. There was a loud thump accompanied by the distinct clinking of coins. “We've got bits,” he proudly declared.

“Be that as it may, Mr. . . .” Minerva started.

“Standard Issue.” The stallion puffed his chest importantly. “My name is Standard Issue.”

“Be that as it may, Mr. Issue, bits are not legal tender where I am from.”

“That will not be a problem,” Rarity said. “Payment can come from the girls' vault and Twilight can help work out a fair exchange rate.”

“We can get more,” Standard declared. nudging the bag.

“What my husband means to say,” Pink Zircon hurriedly interjected, “is that our daughter was unable to attend Celestia's school, and we turn to you to further her magical education.”

“She's a valuable asset,” Standard confided.

With a gasp, Pink Zircon lunged for her husband’s tail, dragging him bodily from the shop. “Thank you for your time! Please take care of our precious! We look forward too hearing from you! Get good grades dear! Oh, look at the time, we have to gallop! Ta-ta for now!”

After the door slammed shut, there came the muffled hollow sound of somepony's hoof going upside somepony else's head. “Amateur!”

“Well,” Rainbow Dash said staring at the door, “that just happened.”

“So,” Clouded Hope asked with more than a hint of desperation, “am I in?”

“I do believe we can accommodate you.” Minerva looked at the recently abandoned child. “However, you will have to work extra hard to catch up with your peers. You will be starting two weeks behind.”

“I'll do my best!” the filly cheerfully declared.

“Does this happen often?” Minerva asked as she mentally rearranged her schedule to accommodate a trip to Diagon Alley with the filly the next day.

“Nope! First for me!” Pinkie exclaimed.

“Can't say Ah've heard of anything like it,” Applejack added.

“That was exceedingly odd,” Rarity opined.

A bell above the front door chimed, interrupting the conversation as it heralded the arrival of four new ponies-- a pink mare, a brown stallion, a pink filly, and a gray filly.

“Deja vu, anypony?” Pinkie asked.

“Filthy,” Rarity greeted. “Spoiled. Welcome. I am currently closed but won't you please come in for some tea?”

“Thank you for your kind offer,” Filthy Rich said, “but we were hoping to discuss schooling with your guest here.”

Rainbow Dash sighed, “I know where Fluttershy put the extra rings Discord gave her. Let me go raid her cottage, I'll be right back.”

Minerva asked, “Are you sure you are ready to work extra hard? We’re already two weeks into the term.”

Dramatically, Diamond Tiara reared up and put a pastern on her forehead. “You have no idea what it’s like being an earth pony in a unicorn’s world. I heard the Crusaders are getting opportunities an earth pony can only dream of here.”

Silver Spoon giggled. “And you might actually get to meet this ‘Draco Malfoy’.”

Puzzled, Minerva asked, “How have you heard about him? He’s a first-year in House Slytherin.”

A greedy expression formed on the pink filly’s face as she sat up and rubbed her forehooves together. “Excellent.”
> Chapter 50: Sorting It Out
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the darkness of his temporary tomb, he brooded. He could barely fathom the indignity of having a bit of broken furniture as his final resting place, but he was confident that he could escape before that came to pass. He was at last familiar enough with his new vessel to store mana. The fools who attacked him had unwittingly given him a new lease on life. However, unless he acted, this would only delay the inevitable.

This was not supposed to happen. The extraneous female was draining his mana at an ever-increasing rate. If his pawn were doing its job properly, this would not have been an issue. However, even if its production were normal, now that the daughter was so much further away than the mother, the mother would still drain more than the daughter would provide. What exacerbated matters was that the younger's production had slowed from a trickle to a drip. This could only mean the younger was learning to focus what he provided. Soon, she would be independent.

He had to act while there was still time. If she were to develop her own relationship with the world well, her spirit would recognize his intrusion, and her power would become poison to him. This would remove his only means of reclaiming what was rightfully his. Everything he invested would be lost. His existence would come to an end.

A universal truth was that desperate times called for desperate measures. Unforeseen circumstances forced his hand; it was well past time for him to cut his losses. There was no hope of gaining any meaningful amount of mana from his pawn at this rate. He had to sacrifice it now, far earlier than he had planned. It would be a simple matter to overwhelm the link. He would marshal his mana and force every iota he could spare into the distant tool. This would trigger a resonant feedback loop, forcing the pawn's mana production to accelerate to the point where its physical vessel could no longer contain it. She would die screaming as the power slowly disintegrated her from the inside out. Only then would the mana be returned to him. It would only be a pittance compared to what she should have provided had she played her part properly, but it would be enough for him to execute an alternate plan.

It was a pity she was too far away for him to witness her demise. From that distance, her screams wouldn't be a whisper. That would not be an issue with the mother. She had contaminated the link, so he would need a hands-on approach. While this would be difficult, he could not help but anticipate the satisfaction of witnessing her end. Both mother and daughter would be joined in agony for eternity for disappointing him, the sooner the better.





A passer-by would have been surprised to find the teachers' lounge in Hogwarts occupied just before supper on a Saturday. Four friends had repurposed it into a game room as they enjoyed a cutthroat session of dominoes. This muggle game was not nearly as popular as exploding snaps, but it did provide entertainment enough for those who were tired of being detached from their eyebrows.

Pomona looked at her hand and smiled to herself. She and Septima, the Arithmancy professor, had a large enough lead over Filius and Paola that she felt a win was in her immediate future. It would go a long way toward reducing the sting of the current tally of four games to one.

As she considered her next move, Pomona became aware of the arrival of two owls. One, an exceptionally large example of its species, landed on the back of a chair just out of her reach. The other was much smaller and not from a species with which she was familiar.

“Hoo.” The larger directed the comment at the smaller in an almost inquisitive manner.

“Who,” the smaller replied and bobbed its head enthusiastically.

“How did they get in here?” Filius asked, scanning the room and noting that the doors and windows were still closed.  

The three witches started and quickly realized the smallest professor had made a valid observation.

“Only one of them seems to have a letter,” Septima said. “This is most peculiar.”
The larger owl, who was wearing a satchel on its breast, hopped closer and offered a leg to Pomona.

“Let's see, shall we?” Pomona said. “What couldn't wait for the normal post?”
Filius drew his wand and scanned the owls for anomalies while his colleague studied the note.

“It's from Minerva,” Pomona said, taking out her own wand and tapping it on the owl's pouch. “Ex dimittere.”

A rude regurgitating sound preceded the appearance of a familiar cat and four small colorful horses -- two with horns and two without.

“What do we have here?” Septima asked even as the cat stood up and took the form of Professor McGonagall.

“Minerva,” Pomona greeted. “Where have you gotten to all day?”

“I've been rounding up some new students for the roster,” Minerva said matter-of-factly. “Our first-year numbers are sparse this year, and we have more than enough room. Please say hello to Miss Silver Spoon, Miss Diamond Tiara, and Miss Clouded Hope.”

“More ponies?” Filius said. “I count four; you neglected one.”

Minerva glanced down and said, “Miss Granger?”

“Oh, right,” Hermione said and flowed to her full height, once more clad in her school uniform. “Sorry.” The other three fillies who had been huddled close to her backed away with a gasp.

“She's an animagus!” Septima accused.

“She has an artifact that facilitates the change,” Professor McGonagall corrected.  

“Why did you change these poor children into ponies?” Septima asked. “It seems rather extreme.”

“Hey!” Diamond Tiara found her voice. “There's nothing wrong with being a pony. You should try it sometime.”

“Miss Tiara,” Professor McGonagall firmly said, her lips thinning, “such outbursts shall not be tolerated. You shall show proper respect to all of the professors and staff.”

“Yes ma'am,” Tiara said meekly, her ears wilting. “I'm sorry.”

“Septima,” Filius said, “these children were born ponies. Their secondary forms are those of human children.”

“What are you . . .” Septima started before a thought hit her. “Miss Belle is a unicorn, isn't she?”

“Very astute,” Paola said, breaking her own silence. “It would seem that Hogwarts is expanding its horizons.”

“Um,” Silver Spoon ventured, “we could attend classes as ponies if that were all right.”

“You wouldn't be able to walk five feet without someone scooping you up and trying to cuddle you to death,” Hermione advised. “Trust me, it'll get old really quickly.”

“This explains the vibrant hair colors,” Septima noted. “How many ponies do we have in attendance?”

“These three will bring the number to six,” Minerva supplied. “Now, supper is fast approaching. It would be best if you three took your new forms.”

“If the Crusaders can do this, so can I,” Diamond Tiara said. She stuck a ring in her mouth and stood up on her two human feet for the first time. “Thath wassn't sso baff.”

Silver Spoon sighed and put her ring in her mouth, soon she was standing next to Tiara. Both were clad in outfits that would have made Umbridge beam.

The two were examining their hands when Clouded Hope raised a hoof. “Um, I would really like some privacy to change,” she said.

“Of course, child.” Professor Sprout smiled at the apparently shy filly, “That door leads to the staff washroom. Go change in there and hurry back.”

“Thank you,” Clouded murmured before rushing off for some seclusion for her first foray into human form. Less than a minute later she was back, wearing an ensemble matching those of the two earth ponies. Her mane had lightened slightly with the transformation, and she looked strikingly like a miniature Paola.

“That clothing will have to go,” Septima commented, scrunching her nose.

“I know, they are frightful,” Paola agreed. “Someone needs fashion lessons.”

“I was referring to the uniform requirement,” Septima said, “but you have a point.”

“I think they look adorable,” Discord huffed in indignation.

“If they were four years old, maybe,” Septima said, turning to the two new individuals in the room. “Do we have a hidden door around here that I'm not aware of?”

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, rushing forward to scoop up her herdmate into her arms, “You won't believe the day I've had.”

“Hermione!” Harry rasped, suffering in her embrace. “We were worried about you, disappearing without a warning like that.”

Hermione blushed. “I wasn't gone all that long, what possibly could have happened?”

“I don't know,” Tiara snarked. “It's not like you'd just go out and come within a hair's breadth of killing off a town with your rampant singing.”

“That was an accident,” Hermione huffed.

“I'll explain later,” Minerva said as all the adults in the room shot her questioning looks.

“Potter has wings?” Septima quirked an eyebrow at the remaining pony in the room.

“This was a revelation for me as well,” Filius admitted.

Septima remarked, "You know, boy, you're a little hoarse."

Hermione groaned, "That gag's been done to death."

“Well, well, well,” Discord commented, fondly ruffling Hermione's hair. “I see, you found your own way back, and you brought extras.”

“Yes, thank you for sending me to Twilight. She took care of my problem.”

“I knew you would be in good hooves,” Discord said. “I had a moment of doubt when your fear started spiking, but a quick peek showed that both my fears and yours were not well-grounded.”

Hermione shuddered and glared at Discord.

“Miss Granger, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said, “it is about an hour until our evening meal. Perhaps you would like to go find your friends before everyone needs to take their seats. We do have four sortings to complete before we partake, and these three need to be made ready.”

“Yes ma'am.” the two Gryffindors chorused, realizing they had been dismissed. “Thank you again Mr. Discord!”

“You can put me down now,” Harry said when Hermione reached the door.

The girl nuzzled him and replied, "You do have the softest fur." As his hooves touched the floor, Harry transfigured back into his native form.

They heard Discord say, “You really do not like these magnificent outfits?” as they left the room.





The Gryffindor common room was the site of yet another tectonic change. A pile of ponies was lying in front of the telly, intent on watching one of their number master yet another level of their favorite game. Intermingled with them were three girls, more intent on petting ponies than watching the game. The normal crowd was curiously absent.

“Welcome back,” Scootaloo called out without turning around. After two weeks that felt like forever, she was once again in her pony form. Abagail gently went through her feathers one by one, cleaning and smoothing before returning each to its proper position.

“Hey there.” Harry said wondering how she knew who was approaching.”

“Hello, everyone,” Hermione added. She groused, "Why couldn't I get a normal shade of orange?"

The enthralled ponies and girls all offered up a greeting.

“Um, Lavender,” Hermione ventured. “how are you managing to play that with hooves?”

“I haven't the foggiest of ideas,” Lavender said sullenly.

Confusion mounted, and Hermione asked, “Lavender? Why are you foaming at the mouth?”

“Apparently, because Mr. Discord decided that she should clean up her language,” Parvati said, running her fingers through Dean's fur.

“Is that connected in any way to why Magah is in the corner fighting with a floating bar of soap?” Hermione asked.

“It's also how we got the telly to ourselves for a while,” Seamus said. “After the soap attacked Lee, everyone decided to clear off for a bit.”

“The soap attacked Lee?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Sweetie said. “When it was attacking Lavender, he said, 'I can't believe she has a piece of soap that takes offense when she says that word.'”

“Only he didn't say 'that word',” Luna said. “He actually said the word.”

“How he could not've seen that coming, I'll never know,” Ginny commented.

“Mmmm hmm.” The group in front of the telly nodded in agreement.

“Oh.” Hermione looked at the besieged pseudo-human. “Shouldn't we help her?”

“Nah,” Dean said. “It'll teach her not to say that word.”

“Besides,” Neville added, “we need to give her a bath anyway.”

“It seems awful cruel,” Harry complained.

“Do you know how to stop a berserk piece of soap?” Abagail asked, starting on the other wing.

“Not offhand,” Harry admitted.

“Thus, bath time.” Sweetie Belle said.

“Aaaaand, why are you three not in pony form?” Harry inquired to change the subject.

“I'm petting ponies,” Parvati said defensively.

“And we promised to wait 'til after supper,” Abagail added. “The twins started a pool on color and tribe. They asked us to give everyone a chance to make a guess.”

“Y'all seem calmer, Hermione.” Apple Bloom finished studying her formerly misplaced herdmate. “Ah take it, Twilight was able to help ya.”

Hermione irately narrowed her eyes. “My week would have been a lot less stressful if you had thought to mention that we should expect pictures to magically appear on our bums.”

The heads of the three original Crusaders jerked up and they gawked at Hermione.

“You got your cutie mark?” Scootaloo demanded slowly.

“You were only a pony like two days when you started acting weird.” Sweetie Belle wailed.

"It happened without you doing anything?" asked Apple Bloom.

Hermione nodded.

“It's not fair!” the trio cried out. “It's not fair, I tell you!” The foundations of the school shuddered at the plaintive wail that followed.





The upscale apartment above the bank was far too large for one person. The kitchen was large enough to service a medium-sized restaurant. Its well-stocked larder was the envy of any gourmet chef, and it would have easily kept said restaurant running for a week. For a lonely stay-at-home mother, it was an open invitation to try all the recipes she'd seen prepared on the cooking shows but never had the means to try. Mulia Mild would have been proud.

Having prepared a veritable banquet, Elisa Bates suddenly realized that she had made far too much food for one woman and her two goblin bodyguards. As she looked over the spread, it occurred to her that her efforts need not go to waste. She never had given her benefactors proper thanks. What better way to do that than to have her guards invite their families over for dinner? Of course, she couldn't forget the one who had made all of the arrangements; the Overseer himself would be the guest of honor, with the seat at the head of the table.

Unwittingly, Elisa had created an awkward situation. Ordinarily, the Overseer would never have broken bread with those so far beneath him in social standing. In a remarkable show of generosity, he brevetted the others to let them freely converse with both his host and him, if only for one night. He even let his guards rotate with Elisa's to give everyone a chance at the table.

It had taken some time for every goblin to realize that their new lord was not testing them. She truly wanted only the pleasure of their company. While goblin tastes and human tastes had distinct differences, there was considerable overlap. Before the evening ended, even the Overseer started wondering how he could secure a future invitation; the tiramisu was to die for.

It would have been a perfect evening, if not for the sudden sense of dread that crawled up Elisa's spine. She had an eerie premoniton that something was going to happen to her daughter. The woman gave a wan smile as she looked over her dinner guests. There was no rational reason for her unease. Still, she couldn't help but worry.  





It was much too early in the term for this sort of drama. After six years at Hogwarts, Fay had become accustomed to the school's patterns. Generally, this sort of disturbance was the response to some trivially asinine issue that would resolve itself over time. Reluctantly, Fay descended the stairs with Terisa at her side. Her responsibilities as prefect dictated that she investigate. Hopefully, whatever it was didn't involve unrestrained beauty aids.

“Apple Bloom!” she said once the common room came into view. “Stop banging the wall like that, you're going to crack it.”

“And by 'it', she's not sure if she means the wall or your skull,” Terisa added.

“Aaargh!” Apple Bloom commented.

“We're happy for you,” Sweetie Belle said to Hermione. “Really, we are. It's great that you got your cutie mark . . . it's just that . . .”

“You got it in a couple days!” Scootaloo exploded, “We've been trying for forever to get ours and you get yours in two bloody days!”

The bar of soap abandoned Magah and turned its attention to Scootaloo.

“Aaaaah, gaaat ooooff!” Scootaloo yelled.

“Ba kon,” Magah whimpered gratefully.

Terisa marched across the common room and snatched up Apple Bloom, “Seriously, you need to stop. I think you dislodged that brick.”





The atmosphere in the master bedroom of what had been stately Malfoy Manor was thick with anticipation. “Discord, you're back,” the stunningly beautiful pink-haired woman breathed when the man appeared in the room. “I hope that's the last errand that you have to run for a while.”

“Fluttershy and I were starting to get anxious,” the raven-haired beauty agreed, looking through her long eyelashes.

“Just one more task,” Discord said. To the dismay of readers around the world, all external access to the proceedings vanished with a snap of his fingers.





A contrite Apple Bloom rubbed herself against Hermione's legs. “Ah'm sorry. We should be overjoyed that y'all got your cutie mark so quick like, not wallowin' in self-pity 'cause we ain't got ours.”

“Yeah.” Sweetie Belle's ears drooped in shame as she rubbed against Hermione's legs from the other side. “It is really rotten of us to treat you this way.”

“I'm not mad at you.” Hermione shrank as she transfigured to nuzzle her friends reassuringly. “If I could, I'd erase it and wait until after you had yours.”

“Don't say that,” Apple Bloom gasped. “Yer cutie mark is a part of ya. Be proud of it. Don't let our sour apples ruin it fer ya.”

“Gaaaahh! Pbbbt!” Scootaloo flopped and desperately tried to remove the cleaning product from her mouth.

“Stupefy,” Fay helpfully added.

“Surprisingly, that worked,” Terisa said. “Now, you just need to revive Scoots.”

“Do you mind?” Sweetie Belle snapped. “We are trying to have a sentimental moment over here.”

“Not at all,” Fay said. “Just let me wake the last participant.”  





The remaining first-years were crowded in the boys' dorm room, staring under Harry's bed.  

“Magah,” Ginny coaxed, “come out from under there; the nasty soap isn't going to get you.”

“Ba kon,” came a retort from somewhere underneath the bed.

“Come on girl,” Neville begged with Philomena sitting on his shoulder singing encouragingly. “It's safe.”

“Wan-- Ba kon!” came the stubborn reply.





Hermione released herself from the group hug and said, “I don't know if this is a good time, but Pinkie told me to tell you, as soon as possible, that tomorrow we are all supposed to go to Sugar Cube Corner for a 'cute-ceañera slash day before your birthday that you never bothered to tell anypony about party'. She's kind of scary so I don't really want to upset her by not telling you.” The girl shuddered. "I do so hope she meant 'stroke' and not 'slash'."

“That's understandable.” Scootaloo nodded her head in sympathy.

“I have no idea how she knew it was my birthday or how she knew I hadn't told anyone,” Hermione said in a small voice.

“Eh.” Apple Bloom shrugged. “That's just Pinkie being Pinkie.”

“I've heard that phrase more than once today,” Hermione said.

“Are we all nice and made up now?” Terisa asked.

“Yeah.” the four ponies answered.

“Good,” Terisa said, “now will someone please tell me why Granger has pictures of books and wands on her arse?”

With exaggerated modesty, Hermione covered up.





Everyone except the first-years in the Great Hall knew that this would be no ordinary Saturday supper. To the uninitiated, there were two notable differences. The most obvious was the added furniture in front of the head table. A battered stool stood there for a rare third time in a single term. Hushed whispers rippled through the gathered students as they sat in anticipation of the show.

The second difference was paradoxically both more drastic and more subtle. It was the norm for the houses to self-segregate at meals. It was a show of unity and pride for each house. On the weekdays, the colors were in full display at each table. On the weekends, however, more casual clothing was the norm. A casual observer would have missed that the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students were integrating on an unprecedented level.

Dumbledore easily fell into the familiar role of the stately elderly wizard. He rose to stand behind the podium overlooking the sorting stool. As soon as he left his seat, the conversation began to dwindle of its own accord. By the time he took his place, he had silence without calling for it.

“Good evening,” he said in a quiet yet commanding voice. “I trust each and every one of you realize that we have some business to attend to prior to beginning our meal. It has been an extraordinary year, with many surprises. The newest of these is that we have the good fortune of adding four new students to our numbers.”

With those words, the double doors swung open and Professor Septima Vector chaperoned four fledgling girls into the Great Hall. The sounds of the footsteps carried clearly throughout the room.

“On that note, I once again yield the floor to our beloved deputy headmistress, Professor McGonagall.”

With a purposeful stride, Minerva walked over to the stool, ferrying the sorting hat. Reverently, she placed her charge on the waiting stool.

In anticipation of what was to come, Percy cast a silencing charm on Magah.

As was its custom, the hat started singing once it had everyone's attention. The headgear was ecstatic; long had it been since the last time it had three performances in a single year. This time, it managed to make it through its verses without interruption.

After the musical interlude, Professor McGonagall said, “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Hope, Clouded.”

The girl did nothing to hide her nervousness as she took her place.

“What have we here?” the hat said into her mind as soon as she was seated. “You are not at all as you appear; but that is your very nature isn't it.”

Clouded went rigid at the intrusion, certain that this was the end. From a corner of her mind, another presence made itself known. In something short of yet, at the same time, approaching words it communicated, “What is this? Who are you to intrude on what is mine?”

“How very interesting,” the hat replied gleefully. “You are linked. Hello, everybuggy listening in.”

Suspicion and concern overwhelmed the mindscape. “Who are you, and do you intend my daughter harm?”

“No, no,” the hat said. “My job is to merely sort her into her house and judge whether or not she is a danger to her peers.”

“And how do you judge her?”

“I can discern that she is less dangerous than many who hold to certain philosophies. However, I shall have her word that she takes only what is on the surface; that will eliminate the possibility of a mishap.”

“We have no assurance that will be enough to sustain her,” the dominant personality protested.

“Then a professor will see to her needs,” the hat countered. “If she cannot co-exist reasonably with the rest of the students, she will be returned unharmed.”

“That is acceptable.” Like a cat who had lost interest, the presence backed off from the forefront.

“Now to the task at hand,” the hat said. “You are neither ambitious nor brave. Those traits do not appeal to you. Substantial intelligence is here, but not the drive to learn. Loyalty and the will to work you have aplenty, though. I think it would be best if you went to . . .”

The brim of the hat went wide as it called out, “Hufflepuff!”

Clouded remained ramrod-straight as her face betrayed her shock over passing the unexpected test. Her borrowed robes took on the familiar yellow and black.

“You may sit with your house now.” Professor McGonagall said, trying to elicit a response.

“Thank you,” Clouded said, numbly removing the hat.

Loud applause accompanied the shell shocked girl as she made her way toward the humans gesturing for her to come hither. Minerva continued to to watch until the new student was seated before saying, “Lovegood, Luna.”

The other new blonde skipped up to the stool and presented her head for the hat. Once in place, a voice, barely on the surface of her mind said, “You're a Lovegood?” a shudder rolled through the ancient artifact, “I'm not going in there!”

“Hello,” Luna returned, “is there a miremoot hiding in the hat?”

“You are definitely a Lovegood,” the hat answered its own question. “Here's the deal: Lovegoods get to choose their own house, and they do not let anyone else know about this rare privilege.”

“Okay, Mr. Miremoot,” Luna said happily.

Hats should be incapable of wincing, but somehow it was managed. “Do you know which house you want?”

“At first I wanted to be in Ravenclaw like Mummy and Daddy,” Luna thought at the miremoot. “Now I have a question.”

“I'll be glad to answer what I can.”

“How many ponies are in the other houses?”

“Currently, all ponies are in Gryffindor,” the hat confided.

Luna was a ten-year old girl, and a no-brainer was a no-brainer no matter how you look at it. “Daddy did tell me to be brave.”

The hat's brim parted once more. “Gryffindor!”

Professor McGonagall smiled as the newest member of her house skipped over in a blur of red and gold to claim a spot next to the rest of the first-years, “Spoon, Silver,” she called out.

Soon, the hat was on its third head of the night. “What have we here?” it said into the mind of the second earth pony it had met. “You certainly have your plans laid out, don't you?”

“Hello Mr. Hat,” Silver Spoon thought back. “Could you tell me which one is Draco Malfoy?”

“He's the one sitting between those large first-years,” the hat responded, “I suggest you wait until after our talk before worrying about him. I see your determination to be in Slytherin but I need to tell you that you are not the sort that the snakes cherish. You do not have the cunning or the thirst for power that they crave. You would do swimmingly in either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.”

“If you're even half as good as I think you are, you know why that's not going to happen. You know why I belong in Slytherin.”

“Yes,” the hat confirmed, “this conversation had one forgone outcome before it even started. You ponies have very strong bonds. Despite not yet formalizing an agreement, the core of your herd is already set in stone. Though I must say, I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you two explain that to Mr. Malfoy.”

“I'm sorry if I caused you any difficulties,” Silver Spoon thought sincerely.

“You would have been exceptional in Hufflepuff,” the hat lamented before declaring for all to hear, “Slytherin!”

At the head table, Professor Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. The stark white hair marked this student as a pony, and he would have to admit that he wasn't anticipating any of them having the mindset needed for Slytherin.

Professor McGonagall watched the young girl walk over to the Slytherin table and say something to the last Malfoy. Upon receiving a positive reply, the girl wrapped her arms around Crabbe. Clearly the boy out-massed her three to one, yet, with an audible “Pardon me”, she hauled the boy from his place before claiming the vacated spot.

Minerva gave a small frown at the incident; it would seem she had no reason to worry over the pony being placed in the house of snakes. Perhaps she should start worrying for the snakes, instead.

Resolving to talk to Snape in the future, Minerva called the last name, “Tiara, Diamond.”

“OH! COME ON!” an outraged child screeched as her fears were confirmed and the person she thought she recognized turned out to be exactly whom she thought. The outcry echoed for awkward seconds.

“That will be ten points from Gryffindor. Miss Belle, see me after the meal.” Professor McGonagall demanded. She didn't miss the evil grin on the next occupant of the stool.

“Oh my,” the hat said as soon as it was situated, “I'm delighted to say you are exactly what Salazar envisioned as a member of his house. You may not have his blood, but you have his spirit.”

“Who is Salazar?” Diamond Tiara asked.

“He was the Slytherin founder,” the hat replied.

“Perfect,” Tiara said, “put me in Slytherin, please.”

“So mote it be,” the hat said before addressing the room as a whole. “This one is Slytherin!” The polite clapping started before the hat finished. “Primus!”

A hush washed over the hall as Diamond Tiara proudly handed the hat to Professor McGonagall. With the bearing of a young aristocrat, the girl glided over to the Slytherin table, every eye glued to the green and silver that flowed with her. When she reached her destination, she looked at Goyle and tilted her head slightly to the side.  

Taking the hint, Goyle evacuated his seat, leaving Diamond Tiara to triumphantly sit next to her stallion.

The last Malfoy shuddered as he felt as though he were about to be eaten alive.





The ruin of the dresser would be a tomb no more. The moment of action had come. He gathered all of his energy, checked the connection one last time -- then pushed.
> Chapter 51: Resource Gathering
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ostentatious dining room had been expanded well beyond its normal capacity. The ornate Victorian dining set had been replaced by four long rustic dining tables, each lined with matching benches. Ordinarily, a group of this size would have been accommodated buffet-style, but ordinarily, the diners would have been familiar with the food and the customs.

By and large, the diners were recent immigrants, as foreign as one could imagine. Interspersed among them were an assortment of Ministry personnel doing their utmost to facilitate their assimilation into the culture of Magical Britain. For the immigrants, however, this was the stuff of nightmares. Dinner was served family-style with platters of artfully-arranged dishes. Everypony was expected to sample everything despite their misgivings. The flesh of what would have been friends or neighbors in their former home was to be part of their diet. It was enough to bring bile up to the backs of their throats. They could no longer deny the truth. They were now monsters in a world of monsters. There was no going home.

Cutie Bee sighed and transferred some unidentifiable meat to her plate. She could not fathom what she could have done to deserve such punishment. Her last memory was having a sleepover with her two closest friends, her herdmates, Silversong and Silent Wish. She was sitting on Silent Wish's oversized bed, discussing plans for the morning with her herdmates, and then she somehow found herself in a strange library, ten years older, surrounded by bizarre and frightening beasts. She had no inkling as to what had happened in the intervening time. She was an earth pony, proud and strong; how could she be so feeble, wearing the skin of the monstrosities that surrounded her? If it weren't for one of the creatures talking to her in Silversong's soothing voice, Cutie Bee was positive she would have started screaming.

The creature with Silversong's voice had explained that the unthinkable had happened. They had been banished from Equestria. Whatever had happened during those ten years away from civilization had been so traumatic that their hosts had deemed it necessary to remove the memories of their exile. Cutie had decided she did not even want to imagine what could have been so horrible to make a decade of amnesia preferable. If her guess were accurate, she and her herdmates were all in the same horrendous physical condition, even discounting the bodies in which they were now imprisoned. Their once-beautiful manes and coats were now in ruins. Even a feeble unicorn would have more strength than they did. They had lost ten years of their lives. They had lost everything that made them feel special about themselves. It was almost enough to make her start crying again.

There was a glimmer of hope. All of the "humans", both professed former ponies and natives, had hovered around her presumed herd, offering encouragement despite their looks of worry. The persistent healers had forced a multitude of potions on them three times a day, between the lessons that everypony received regarding the nuances of living in this new world. They might be banished, but they were getting a second chance, a chance at normal lives, a chance to actually raise a family. Nopony was going to waste an opportunity to fulfill what had been a nigh-impossible dream in their homeland. Cutie Bee and her herd might not remember how they had lost everything, but they were not willing to risk being exiled again -- even if it meant eating meat.





The office of Gryffindor's head of house was unexpectedly crowded. Professor McGonagall stood behind her desk looking sternly at the students gathered before it. “I only recall asking for Miss Belle to attend me,” she said after a moment.

“Yes ma'am,” the entirety of her house's first year class replied in unison.

McGonagall studied the unified front that fidgeted at her gaze. “Miss Belle is solely responsible for her own outburst. Those of you who do not wish to share in her punishment would be well advised to leave now.”

The first-years continued to fidget, but not a one made a movement towards the door. In fact, they seemed to move closer to their wayward member.

McGonagall pursed her lips to hide her pride. “Am I to understand that you all wish to out-loyal the Hufflepuffs?”

“Ba kon!” came the only reply.

“I see.” McGonagall maintained her scrutiny. “Very well, Miss Belle; what have you to say for yourself?”

“I'm sorry, Professor.” Sweetie Belle looked down and scuffed her foot on the floor. “It's just that getting away from Diamond Tiara was a major reason why we came here in the first place.”

“Be that as it may,” McGonagall said, “that was no excuse for disrupting the sorting ceremony. On Monday, at supper, you shall issue a formal apology for your unacceptable behavior. We each only get one sorting; marring the experience for another shall not be tolerated. I expect better from the members of my house.”

“Yes ma'am.” Sweetie wilted.

“Furthermore,” said McGonagall as she peered at everyone in the room, individually, “each of you shall write a foot on the importance of manners, due on my desk by this coming Friday.”

Seamus snickered and quickly lifted his hands to hide his smirk.

“Is there something you find amusing, Mr. Finnigan?” McGonagall asked brusquely, shifting her glare to him.

“Sorry Professor,” Seamus said still trying to hold back laughter. “I just imagined Magah handing in a scroll with the word 'bacon' scrawled all over it.”

Several of the herd fought to hide their own grins at that scenario.

McGonagall let her firm gaze fall on the group until they regained their composure. “I trust none of you shall disappoint me in such a manner again?”

“No ma'am.” the first years chorused and Philomena trilled her agreement as well.

“Very well, you are dismissed.”  





In a dusty storage room, somewhere in a respectable museum, sat a box. It contained a curious artifact, the purpose of which had never been divined. The fact that it was made of gold and gems had categorized it as art, albeit art that was atypical for the region and time frame of its creation. Too valuable to dispose of and too abnormal to display, it sat in storage, seeing the light of day only when curious academics unearthed it to marvel at its uniqueness.

For some time now, the gems on its surface had been flashing in a sequence whose significance had been long forgotten. The warning it screamed had been duly ignored. Then, as abruptly as it started, the flashing stopped and the relic started to glow with an eerie red light. Unfortunately, this quantum state could not be observed outside of the sealed container. Schrödinger would not be pleased.





The Gryffindor common room was more crowded than normal. The portrait swung open and the first-years were greeted by the telly exclaiming, “Waka, waka!” followed by a horrendous joke.

“Can't you go for one week without getting in trouble?” the seventh-year male prefect asked, not taking his eyes off the telly.  

“We're trying.” Lavender said, seeing that the entire Hufflepuff house was once again in attendance. In fact, the first-year Hufflepuffs had been grouped up in front of the telly, surrounding their newest member. As one, they turned to smile at their year mates. It was at this point that Apple Bloom saw that Clouded Hope was holding something blue. With a gasp, the Crusader planted her feet firmly on the floor and easily took the weight on her shoulders.

“Oww!” Ginny complained once she bonked her head on the ceiling.  

“Okay,” Fay said, looking up. “Now you're just being silly.”

“That looks like fun,” Luna said. She started to climb up Apple Bloom while Abagail and Parvati looked on in wonder.

“How do they manage to do that without tipping over?” Terisa asked, tearing her gaze away from the telly.

**Whufffff!**

“Never mind; I spoke to soon.”

“Don't tell me that you brave Gryffindors are afraid of a harmless little slime,” Susan Bones taunted, taking the blue object from Clouded's hands and holding it out invitingly.

“That thing is vicious,” Ron declared from the heaped herd.

“Lavender, could you get your knee out of my liver?” Dean asked.

'Sorry,” Neville said. “That's mine.”

“I didn't know phoenixes could laugh,” a Hufflepuff upper-year commented.

Meanwhile, Abagail and Parvati had wandered over to the Hufflepuff first years and were examining the other house's pet.

“So, this is Mouse,” Parvati said, not attempting to take him into her hands.

“May I hold him?” Abagail asked holding out her own.

“He smells like cough potions,” Luna noted, sidling up next to Parvati.

“He's really very loving,” Hanna offered as she watched Abagail and Luna stroke Mouse.

“That is, if you don't take in to account his daily diet,” Euan of the Hufflepuffs said.

“You're just upset that he snuck into your shower for breakfast,” another Hufflepuff boy countered.

“Do you know where he bit me?” Euan practically shrieked.

“Yes,” the other boy chortled, “you won't shut up about it.”

“I vote we change the subject,” a fifth-year Gryffindor boy said. “Besides, it's time for me to win the pool.”

“That's a good idea,” Fay said. “The commercials have just started; now's a perfect time to see what's what. Lovegood? Do you want to go first, since Bates is playing with Mouse?”

“Okay.” Luna agreed and hopped over to stand in front of the telly.

“Wait a minute,” Ernie MacMillian, a first-year Hufflepuff, complained. “Are you telling me all first-year Gryffindors get to be ponies? How is that fair?”

“Clouded Hope can change forms too,” Hermione offered helpfully.

“I don't like changing in front of witnesses.” Clouded shrunk visibly at the thought.

“Oooh,” Susan cooed. “We have our own pony!”

“Guys!” Percy interjected. “Pay attention to Luna. The commercials aren't going to last forever.”

The room turned to the little blonde expectantly.

Smiling at all of the attention, Luna shrank.

“Well that's disturbing.” Fred said.

“Still cute as heck.” George added.

“But disturbing.” Fred concluded.

“Wow,” Apple Bloom stated, “she's a thestral.”

“She's got fangs,” Katie Bell noted as a fourth-year Gryffindor girl scooped Luna up into her arms and took in the texture of the velvety wings.

“So, who guessed light grey coat and a purple mane with a blond stripe?” the girl who claimed Luna asked.

Checking a scroll, George said. “Believe it or not, a different person guessed grey coat with a purple mane for each of the three tribes we were aware of.”

Fred mused, “I would guess thestrals are closest to pegasi.”

“No,” Scootaloo corrected. “They take pride in being their own tribe. They just aren't very common.”

“Split the winning three ways then.” Fay judged. “Bates it's your turn.”

Abagail handed Mouse back to Susan before skipping to her spot in front of the telly with a big grin. “I've been wanting to do this all week,” she declared and morphed without another word.

“Another thestral,” Fay proclaimed, “and look, Hermione isn't the only one who glows in the dark.”

“Yeah,” Ginny said, “but she's black on black; why is she glowing red?”





Dog bowls sized for Fluffy would have required custom fabrication. Ever the practical mare, Applejack improvised with three bushel baskets from their surfeit and added a canvas liner to allow them to hold water. She lined them up before tearing open a twenty-five kilogram bag with her mouth and evenly distributed the kibble among the three. Standing on her hind legs, she raised her forehooves to her mouth and whistled. Settling back down, she called out, “Here boy! Fluffy! Come an' get your vittles!”

She was rewarded by a small localized earthquake as the farm's newest inhabitant rushed to obey.  

Unsure of the canine's temperament, Applejack took several steps backwards as she watched Fluffy sink one head into each basket and begin his meal. Satisfied that all was well, she turned and started trotting towards Winona's bowl. She only took a few steps before a loud whine drifted through the air.

Curiosity aroused, she pivoted to see Fluffy's rightmost head looking at her with big mournful eyes. Letting her eyes drift downwards she saw that Winona had climbed into that head's basket and was happily munching away.

Fixing Fluffy with a mirth filled look, Applejack said, “Yer just a big ol' baby. Ain't cha.”





In beautiful Blue Lake Cave, a lone entity was tirelessly walking toward his goal. Nothing was going to stand in the way of his objective. Those who had come before had anticipated that his quarry might emerge anywhere, so they had planned accordingly. Hidden in the lake was a portal to places in between, allowing him to emerge anywhere on the planet. Each step left ripples in the water as he walked along the surface. The laws of physics were no obstacle to him; fluid or solid made no difference to him.

Without warning, he ceased his forward motion and tilted his head as if listening, gauging range and bearing.

Then, he allowed himself a smirk before continuing on his way, descending as if he were using stairs.





In the darkness of the Hufflepuff first-year girls' dormitory, Clouded Hope finally realized what was missing. The gnawing pain that she had felt every waking moment was gone. Every changeling, from the time they were nymphs, knew the feeling. There was never enough to go around. Even if one found enough for their fill, it was their duty to take just what they needed and to bring the rest back to share.

The night had been an unmitigated success. Never had she imagined a place where food was so abundant. Never before had she been so stuffed. She couldn't help herself, even after she'd had her fill; there was still so much more. She had to find some way to send the excess back to her family. This unforeseen circumstance could be the salvation of her hive. Clouded Hope was finally living up to her name.

The term "telly" was new to Clouded, but she knew exactly what the device was; it was an emotion manipulator. The humans had hunkered around and had their passions conveniently dictated by the clever glowing box. They had grown angry en masse. They had found humor en masse. Most importantly, they had loved en masse. There had been more of the emotion than even an adult infiltrator could handle, all for the taking. She had collected what would normally have been a week's harvest in a few minutes.  

The meal had made her sluggish with contentment. It was all she could manage to amble into the bathroom and rid herself of half of what she had collected. Such waste was unimaginable, yet she had no choice if she wanted to remain mobile.  

In a haze, she had wandered back into the Hufflepuff dorm room, wearing her pony disguise. This led to Susan scooping her up and insisting that she would be treated as a stuffed animal all night long. Clouded spent the slumber time cherished by the larger, affectionate female and absently soaking up even more love.

Hunger was a thing of the past.





In the darkened bed room, Abagail gave a wide yawn and loosened the cocoon her wings had made around her body. Blearily, she discovered she had gained a new perspective as she opened her eyes. She could see quite clearly in the dim light, picking out every detail of those on the bed below. Eleven little ponies lay around a pseudo-woman and one little girl. Why Parvati had refused to change was beyond her; she had distinctly remembered Apple Bloom asking. After the experience with Hermione, the rest of the herd wanted to be absolutely sure that there was nothing bothering the girl, and they were ready to jump in to help at the first hint of trouble. Parvati, however, insisted that nothing was wrong and that she was simply not in the mood to change at that time.

There was nothing in Parvati's demeanor that indicated any sort of anxiety. Abagail was quite familiar with the comfort of sleeping while cuddling the transfigured Magah and having her pony herdmates snuggled against her. She watched the girl with a touch of envy.

Abagail sensed that, despite her isolation, she was not alone. Looking over, she found Luna pressed to her side. Perhaps this was normal for thestrals. Would she have to stay human if she wanted to indulge in sleeping with the herd? Also, how in the world was she hanging upside down from the ceiling?





Daphne Greengrass was confused by the mixed signals she was receiving from the two new girls. They clearly were foreigners. However, it was clear that they were quite familiar with social status. After the prior evening's briefing on the Slytherin house structure, the girls, in perfect pureblood fashion, had started asking questions about the social hierarchy among the adults. There was now no doubt the two truly belonged in House Slytherin.

Despite their social awareness, the girls displayed no sign of the wealth they claimed their families had. They had arrived with not even the clothes on their backs; the tags on their clothing showed they were from the school's emergency wardrobe. As hard as she tried, Daphne could not envision how a pair of such standing could be traveling with no personal possessions. Even though their enrollment had been a last-minute affair, any normal person would have taken at least a few essentials. Still, spending the day shopping did have its appeal; Daphne would have to convince the two to take her with them to Diagon Alley.

No one would deny that Diamond Tiara was at the top of the pecking order. She had been declared Primus; for all practical purposes, she was the heiress of Salazar Slytherin himself. Not even a direct descendant could claim that level of prestige. In less than twenty-four hours, she had laid claim to more power than most of the house would see in a lifetime. Only her apparent ignorance of the extent of her power left the others any hope of avoiding complete subjugation. There was still time to get into her good graces. The benefits of having such an influential ally could not be ignored.

Silver Spoon, on the other hand, was a complete mystery. If she were to be believed, she had wealth, but she had no formal standing in the wizarding world. There was no trace of her family in any registry available to House Slytherin. The girl claimed that her family had used magic from time immemorial, but there was no way to verify that claim. Even if that were true, it mattered little to Daphne; her family had no interest in the pureblood agenda. Time would tell whether the girl had any aptitude for magic.

That Silver was subservient to Diamond was also obvious. Daphne suspected the white-haired girl was in Slytherin more for her connection to Diamond than anything else. Her prestige would, most likely, be a reflection of Diamond's own.

The most shocking revelation, so far, was the marriage contract between Diamond and Draco. The new girl had wasted no time in claiming the last Malfoy as her own. There was no doubt she was the dominant personality in that relationship. Poor Draco spent the evening with a lost expression painted on his face, completing his fall from grace. He would still be a prince in Slytherin, but only as the chattel of a dominating queen.

The oddities had cumulated when Daphne had lent the newcomers some night clothes. The two had ignored one of the extra beds added to the room and had climbed into the same one, sharing their warmth instead.





Draco felt adrift. Nothing was how it was supposed to be. His rightful position among his house had been usurped. Just two weeks ago, it would have been he that his peers had looked to for guidance. That prestige had died with his father. Now, the Malfoy name was in disgrace. If it were not for the girl, who currently walked on his arm, he, too, would be. His stature had changed back and forth so drastically that he was sure he was suffering from whiplash.

The damnable Ritter had been strangely successful in her choice of Draco's wife to be. The Primus for House Slytherin was an acquisition that had been beyond his wildest dreams. The downside was the girl did not seem to know her place. She expected Draco to follow where she pointed, instead of being the proper pureblood partner he deserved. He would need to train her.

Somehow, he found himself guiding Diamond in the general direction of the Gryffindor tower. The girl had latched onto one of his arms while her friend had seized the other. This left Crabbe and Goyle to trail several steps behind. Rather than allowing him to escort them to the Great Hall for breakfast, Diamond had urged him to intercept the Gryffindors. She had claimed that now was the time to acquire allies, and breakfast could wait.

Draco had tried correcting her; allies were in their house and maybe Ravenclaw. Gryffindors were not to be courted. Diamond had laughed and explained that Slytherins were lackeys. Allies were something else entirely. Despondent, Draco had no choice but to see the doomed enterprise through to the end. However, if he were lucky, he'd have the opportunity to torment some lowlifes.

“There you are,” Diamond suddenly called out cheerfully.

Shaken out of his thoughts, Draco peered down the hall and saw the entirety of the first-year Gryffindor class staring back in turn. The bewilderment plastered on most of the faces was a sight to be savored.

“What do you want, Diamond Tiara?” the absurdly purple-haired Aloo demanded with a frown. She had the attitude that Draco anticipated from Gryffindors.

“Don't be like that,” Diamond said, letting go of Draco's arm and approaching the opposing cluster of students. “I just want to talk.”

Draco felt Crabbe and Goyle tense behind him. The Gryffindors outnumbered them by an uncomfortable margin. This was not an encounter that Draco normally would have sought. The way that Bloom moved forward, as if to guard her friends, did nothing to make the proceedings any more pleasant.

“Are y'all here to cause trouble?” Bloom growled, leaving no doubt to how that would be received.

“Don't be silly,” Diamond waved a dismissive hand and looked toward the ceiling with a roll of her eyes. “That was sooooo last year. Why don't you grow up some?”

Bloom rocked back on her hind foot, both figuratively and literally, displaying her confusion openly.

“What?” Belle gasped, the surprise apparent on her face and in her voice.

“I'm here to formalize our alliance,” Diamond continued unperturbed. “After all, we come from the same hometown and need to stick together.”

“That does sound like a good idea,” the Granger mudblood said thoughtfully as the remaining Gryffindors gaped soundlessly or watched curiously. “What do you have in mind?”

“Daddy was right,” Diamond said, unsurprised. “You are the Twilight Sparkle of this group.”

“Thanks.” Hermione gave a pleased smile at the comparison.

“For starters,” Diamond said as she skirted around the still-stunned Bloom and began examining the boys in the other group, “if we are in trouble, you come to our aid. The reverse holds true as well.”

“I don't see how that would be fair.” Hermione shifted her feet. “We have more help to offer than you do. There are more of us.”

“Of course, you have more to offer in terms of pure physical force. You have Apple Bloom after all.” Diamond said scrutinizing Thomas but making a point of not touching. “However, I think your resemblance to Twilight is more than just a love for books. I'm willing to wager that you and the rest of your herd are as subtle as a hydra wearing jingle bells. Don't underestimate the value of somepony with a different way of handling problems.”

Hermione eyed the girl skeptically. Diamond added, " Apple Bloom's family and mine already have an arrangement back home; just ask her."

“Besides,” Draco spoke up, not wanting to be overshadowed, “we have Crabbe and Goyle with us. Either of them counts as two or three Blooms.”

“Draco,” Silver said from where she had yet to let go of his arm, “don't pick fights with Apples. A brawl with one of them always results in three or four hits.”

“How do you figure?” Goyle said, unhappy that his boss was being contradicted and wanting to defend his own worth.

Silver sighed before answering, “You hit them. They hit you. You hit the ground and don't get up.”

“I count to four real good,” Goyle sneered. “That's only three hits.”

“Sometimes there is something between where they hit you and where you hit the ground,” Silver clarified in a soothing voice, as if explaining to a small child, “like a wall or maybe a tree.”

“Yer telling me they like to bounce people off trees?” Goyle asked, clearly impressed.

“You need to work on your definition of 'between',” Diamond said, moving to examine Potter. Draco made a mental note not to antagonize any of the Gryffindors in view of Bloom.

“What good are Gryffindors as allies?” Draco spoke up again. “All they know how to do is butt heads.”

“I'll show you butting heads, you wanna be.” Aloo said and took a menacing step forward.

“Scootaloo!” Bloom barked and Diamond snapped her gaze onto Scootaloo.

“Are you threatening my Draco?” Diamond asked, a previously absent steel in her voice.

“She ain't,” Bloom said, looking as if she were sucking on a lemon. “Scootaloo, apologize all proper like, then head to the back of the herd.”

Draco couldn't enjoy the sight of the girl stammering apology since Silver had moved to stand between him and the unfolding scene.

“Can we do this after breakfast?” Draco heard the pig masquerading as a Weasley ask.

“Hush, Ron.” Bloom said. “Breakfast can wait.”

Mournfully Magah asked, "Ba kon?"

“Apple Bloom.” Diamond said, “Thank you for controlling your attack dog. We are going to give you some time so  her temper can cool. Before we go, I am pledging our support for your colts. They have a bed at our houses if they ever find the need and each can claim two hundred bits at anytime if they find themselves without money.”

Draco peeked around Silver in time to see Bloom stagger in surprise before saying. “Ah pledge that Draco shall have a place to lay his head an' he may have two hundred galleons... no wait... one thousand galleons if'n he but asks.”

Diamond scooted out from the grouped Gryffindors and reclaimed Draco's arm. “It's a start. Remember, our families have been partners for generations. This is going to be the beginning of a profitable friendship.”  

With that Diamond firmly lead Draco in the direction of the Great Hall and as they left he heard the youngest Weasley ask, “What just happened?”

The reply came from Granger. “Apple Bloom just wrongly assumed that a bit was equal in value to a galleon.”

“That could have gone better.” Diamond frowned, once they were out of earshot. “Is there any reason you tried to sabotage everything?”  

“They are a bunch of worthless blood traitors.” Draco grumbled unconvincingly.

“They are blank flanks,” Diamond agreed. “but Daphne has told me that they are already a political force waiting to happen. Two of the colts will have seats on your government after they grow up and Sweetie Belle has one already. That's not even counting the connections they have on the Equestrian side.” Diamond sighed before continuing. “My Daddy told me yesterday that my mom was being blind to the value they have and that I was to be civil with them from now on. That and he promised I would be going home if he found out I wasn't. So, if I have to treat them nice, you have to treat them nice.”

“I don't like it.” Draco confided.

“Neither do I,” Diamond agreed. “but Daddy says we will benefit in the long gallop.”





He lay still, lacking the power to even lift his head. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She should have died long ago. He should of had his influx before now.

Instead, he was trapped in this vessel, unable to move. His true body was decaying even more rapidly. Worse, the link to the child was almost gone; he would receive no more from that source.  

By all rights, he should have already suffered the true death, yet somehow he persisted.

In darkness, he lay and wondered why nothing was going according to plan.
> Chapter 52: A Bad Day for Composure
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the quaint cottage, a mint-green body lay partially buried in the middle of the ransacked room. A detective would have been puzzled by the scene. There was no sign of forced entry, and no clear path of exit; even a teleport would have left tell-tale signs of displaced air amid the scattered papers. Somepony had obviously been looking for something.

To the experienced eye, the scene told a much different story. From the doorway, Bon Bon could see that her roommate had collapsed, exhausted, before she could exit the study and go to bed. The steady rise and fall of her green barrel showed that Lyra was very much alive, despite what a casual observer would have assumed.

What little order the room would ordinarily have was completely gone. At its best, the room was cluttered and disorganized, with books scattered in haphazard piles throughout. The shelves would normally be laden with a hodgepodge of seemingly random objects, each foreign, with no apparent relationship with anything else in the room. Lyra had sworn there was a method to her madness, but Bon Bon had never seen even the slightest hint of anything that would corroborate that claim. These were clearly not the best of times. Hurricane Heartstrings had ravaged the room.

Bon Bon stifled a yawn as she mentally prepared her lecture on the importance of a good night's sleep. Looking at the now-bare shelves and then back at the slumbering mare, the candy maker changed her mind. The precious notes and artifacts that Lyra had been accumulating over the years had been scattered like so much rubbish. Lyra's life ambition was now in reach, and nothing Bon Bon could say would dissuade her. There was however, something that Bon Bon could do; she swore she would cut the sugar from the green mare's diet.

It had been less than a day since Lyra had met her first human. Bon Bon knew this was not the time to rein in her partner's behavior; it would be wrong to deny a pony her dream. She had seen just how determined the unicorn could be. With a smile she envisioned how successful Twilight would be in trying to keep Lyra from accompanying her to the human world.





The crowd of students in the courtyard was much larger than one would expect on a Sunday morning. Members of all four houses had come to witness the spectacle. The Gryffindor first-years were once again the center of attention, despite being short two members. Sweetie Belle and Lavender were out helping the latest students. Scootaloo had surprised everyone by asking that they start without her; she had promised to join in after she had attended some important business. The orange pegasus had soared high above the school grounds and was now lazily orbiting.

Abagail groaned as she raised her muzzle out of the furrow she had dug in the soft turf. Clearly, there was more to flight than mere instinct. The hungry looks she was getting from the crowd made her all the more grateful that Percy was there, keeping the crowd off the field. The last thing any of the herd needed at this point was overenthusiastic children scooping up any unwary fliers.

The filly squinted as she tried to filter out the agonizingly brilliant morning sun. She tried not to think about the bruises that were sure to form.

“I think you zigged when you should have zagged,” Luna Lovegood commented from behind an outrageous pair of dark-lensed glasses. She lazily flapped above the thestral. Magah trotted over to nuzzle the latest downed flier.

“What's with the flying eyesores?” a seventh-year Ravenclaw asked as he entered the courtyard and spotted the spectacle. 

“The Gryffindors are teaching themselves to fly,” one of his housemates offered. “It looks like they have a spell that turns you into pegasi and . . . whatever those are.”

“Please tell me that they're willing to share.” 

“Would we all be standing on the ground if they were?” 

**Whump!**

“Dean!” Harry called out. “Mind the wall!”

Elsewhere in the courtyard, Apple Bloom confronted Parvati, “Why ain't ya out there flapping your wings?”

“I just want to watch for now,” Parvati answered as she grinned and watched Potter swoop down and help Dean pry himself off the ivy.

“Y'all are starting to worry me,” Apple Bloom said, turning over Magah's pendent in her hands.

“Me too,” Neville said coming to stand by Parvati. “Weren't you saying, before, how much you couldn't wait to try your wings?”

“Don't worry,” Parvati said dismissively. “There's nothing wrong with me. I just don't feel like it right now. I want to watch.”

Apple Bloom looked at the pendent she was holding, then looked at Parvati. With a smirk, she threw it over the other girl's head. 

“Hey!” Parvati squeaked, ruffled her black wings and brushed her navy blue mane out of her eyes with a hoof.

“Now, quit being a spoilsport and get out there and fly,” Ginny said as she looked down at her and prodded the pony with her foot.

“Okay.” Parvati said with a wide grin, “I suppose I could after all.” She took a step forward and tripped over her own hooves. “Ow, maybe I'll be better in the air than on the ground.”

Also smiling, the landbound members of the herd watched her hurry to join the others testing their wings.

“Wow, the necklace messed with her colors,” Seamus said, “but it's good to see her so happy.”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom said with a small frown, “Ah'm gonna have to talk to Parvati about that latter.”





As she lay prone on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron, Sweetie Belle still couldn't believe how fast Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had thrown her under the cart. They were supposed to be a herd, but the two had wasted no time in casting her out. If Lavender hadn't chosen to accompany her, the filly masquerading as a girl would have been bawling her eyes out. She most definitely did not want to be out there without any support. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were accompanied by Daphne Greengrass, while Clouded Hope was escorted by Susan Bones and Hanna Abbott. Had Lavender not come along, Sweetie Belle would have been the only Gryffindor there.

They had all assembled in Professor Sprout's office. She had been visibly perturbed at the number of children participating, but she had, with a sigh, resigned herself to teaching everyone there the basics of floo transport. Sweetie Belle hadn't listened to the lecture, she had been far too focused on the indignity of the situation. She knew she was obligated to go with the new students. Professor McGonagall had insisted that an Equestrian accompany the new students to the bank to exchange bits for the local currency. Since this transaction was to be performed under Rarity's authorization, it had fallen to Sweetie Belle to act as her local agent. The filly was more than ready to fulfill her obligations, and she knew she would love the shopping that would follow, but that was no excuse for the other Crusaders to abandon her like that.

Sweetie Belle hadn't staggered in the slightest when she exited the floo. While it wasn't her favorite mode of transportation, she was finding that she had a natural flair for it. In fact, she was beginning not to pay it much heed. Perhaps she should have paid more attention during the refresher. She had neglected to get out of the way before Silver Spoon had come barreling out of the fireplace.





The scents of cedar and leather filled the shop where Dylan read a brochure from the newest wizarding travel agency. The bell above the entrance had just announced the arrival of some new customers. A wide smile blossomed when he saw who it was. “Good morning!” he declared, sliding out from behind the counter and abandoning his reading material. “Don't tell me you're here for more repairs to your kitchen.”

“Hello.” Sweetie Belle furiously blushed at the reminder. “No, I need three trunks ready before we leave this afternoon.”

“With pleasure,” Dylan said. “Did you have a particular model in mind?”

“Wait a minute,” a girl behind Sweetie spoke up. She was in a sizable group of peers and Dylan nodded a greeting to the Hogwarts professor accompanying them. “What's this about Sweetie Belle having a kitchen?”

“Most deluxe models have built in kitchens.” Dylan responded proudly. He tried not to react when he saw the girl had pale purple hair with a white streak.

“And you gave one to Sweetie?” the girl asked.

“Yes,” Dylan admitted cautiously.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Miss Tiara,” Professor Sprout said with a warning tone.

“I'm sorry, professor,” Miss Tiara said looking at the adult while at waving toward Sweetie, “but letting Sweetie Belle anywhere near a kitchen is a very bad idea.”

“I'm not that bad.” Sweetie stamped a foot and pouted.

“Hydra guts all over town hall,” another girl said; this one had smoke gray hair, light enough to be mistaken for white.

“You can't blame that one on my cooking.” Sweetie countered.

“The emergency response teams rate disasters on the Sweetie Belle Scale,” the gray-haired girl deadpanned.

“It's not nice to exaggerate, Miss Spoon,” Professor Sprout said, starting to sound unsure of herself.

“I'm not exaggerating,” Miss Spoon said. “Just ask her.”

“Miss Belle?” Sprout asked, fixing her attention on the child in question.

“They just don't like anything well done.” Sweetie frowned petulantly. 





The inspiration room in Carousel Boutique was abuzz with excitement as Rarity hummed quietly to herself, working on a creation not meant for pony eyes. While the rings that she and her friends used to transform between pony and human were wonderful, the default outfit that they bestowed on the human form was a crime against fabulosity. Rarity had adamantly refused to venture forth in the human world until Discord had clothed her in a passable outfit. She would make sure that Twilight would be clothed in garments worthy of a true friend -- and a painfully available single.

Human standards both frustrated and inspired her. She could not directly transfer pony fashions; the current trend of an intricate blouse that left everything from the hip back exposed was simply not acceptable where Twilight was going, even though Rarity was sure that Twilight would have no qualms showing off her cutie mark to that Sirius stallion she kept going on about. The restriction against using gemstones was an affront to the designer's sensibilities; she would have to substitute déclassé sequins and lace.

Lyra's outfit was next in the queue. Rarity had no illusion that the mare would fail in her efforts to tag along. Twilight simply wasn't that cruel. It would be only a matter of time before the mint green pony had a ring to call her own. Rarity would see to it that the guardian of her eventual son-in-law would have an outfit that reflected her adventurous spirit.

A tentative hoot broke her concentration, and Rarity looked over to see a familiar owl, perched on a window sill. She was positive it was the same one that had brought Sweetie's first letter.

“Why hello there,” Rarity said, levitating the tools of her trade to their proper resting places. “I am so happy to see you again. I'm afraid I never properly thanked you for letting us know the girls were safe. I must insist that you stay for some refreshments. There are owl treats aplenty.”

The owl hooted again and offered its leg.

“Yes, yes.” Rarity nodded. “Business before pleasure. Please come in.”

The owl leapt from its perch and relocated itself onto Rarity's back.

“Darling, you are just in time to offer your opinion,” Rarity said with a charming wave towards a lilac dress resting on a poniquin propped up in poor imitation of a biped. “What do you think of my latest pièce de résistance?”

“Who,” the owl replied, rotating its head counterclockwise

“Yes, I agree. It needs more lace.”

The owl shook himself and held out his leg once again. Rarity smiled fondly as she used her magic to retrieve the letter. “Now, let's see what Sweetie has to say.” 





Professor Snape was in a foul mood as he made his way back from the owlery. Normally, he would have sent an elf to complete the task, but today he had felt the need to perform the deed himself. In a way, the mere existence of the message was an impeachment of his capabilities. While proud of his self-sufficiency, he was not too vain to ask for help when it was warranted. This matter, however, required that he be prompt, so he decided to cut through the largest castle courtyard.

When he entered the field, he was dismayed to find a large cluster of students lollygagging on the sidelines. As he was about to exhort them to do something productive, a small, unintelligible voice drew his attention skyward. Squinting as he gazed toward the Sun, he noticed a dot that grew at an alarming rate, blotting out the orb. As an orange blur filled his vision, he finally made out the words. "Professor Snape! Professor Snape!"

“Thank you! Thank you. Oh, thank you!” was heard in conjunction to the impact

“Mffft!” Snape exclaimed into the fur that covered his face.

“I thought I'd never know what it felt like! You gave me the sky!”

“Mrrrrrf!” Snape repeated, bringing up his hands to pry away the obstruction.”

“I can't thank you enough! You have no idea how much this means to me!”

Snape heard another student say, “Hey Jeremy, remember that movie 'Alien'?”

“Yup.”

“I think we have a new definition for 'face hugger', here.”

“Yup.”

“Rawwwwwf!” Snape yelled.

"In deep space, no one can hear you whinge," noted the second student.

“Did you see? I was flying!”

Snape didn't have the breath to respond.

“I wonder how he can breathe like that,” a female student mused.

Snape dropped to his knees, frantically trying to remove the blockage.

“The answer to that would be; not very well.” yet another student commented.

With his last iota of strength, he finally yanked the object free. Gasping he saw that he held a small orange pegasus with a purple mane. “Miss Aloo, what is the meaning of this?” He tried to sneer.

Scootaloo stared back at him with her eyes as wide as they would go. Two visible streams of tears escaped the orbs. “Your potion! You fixed me.” A sob convulsed her small body. “You fixed me!”

Professor Snape attempted a rage roll, but even with his occlumency bonus, he was left with a critical fail. “That's hardly an excuse,” he said to the illegally cute bundle he held.

A small pair of arms wrapped around his neck from behind and Snape caught a glimpse of bright red hair topped by a bow. “Thank you for helping Scootaloo,” came a heartfelt whisper.

Shocked past the point of being able to reply, Snape was only barely aware of another small body latching onto his right side. “Thank you,” said Arthur Weasley's youngest.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor.” Professor Snape announced as sternly as he could manage.

“Eh,” a fuchsia body said as it wrapped its hooves and wings around Snape's chest in an additional hug. “It's worth it. Thanks for helping Scoot.”

“Gryffindors are so crazy,” a black form declared before adding herself to the dogpile.

“Geronimo!” exclaimed yet another ebony attacker, adding her leathery wings to the embrace.

A gray form swooped down and silently attached herself to the first opening she could find.

The normally stoic Professor knelt there with an unreadable expression on his face. Then emotionlessly he said, “Let me up.”

One by one his assailants released him and he stood up. He looked each one in the eye before ending on Scootaloo. “You're welcome.” With those words, and a swirl of his robes he stalked from the field with as much dignity as he could muster.

Silence followed as the gathered students watched him leave.

“I'd say he's still broke,” a seventh-year Slytherin girl observed after a minute.

“Isn't that just grand?” said another.

“Well, that settles it,” said a Hufflepuff boy. “We are going to have to invite Zecora back as often as we can convince her.”

“Fifteen points to Gryffindor.”

“You're not even a prefect.”

“I don't care, they can have the next fifteen I earn.”





Ollivander sighed and laid down his tools. He had been so lost in working with the new core material that he almost missed the wards' announcement of some new customers. The racket that was clearly audible in the back room should have tipped him off long before now. This would be the second school weekend in a row that he received children as customers.

As was his custom, he observed his clientele before making himself known. With relief, he recognized the woman attending the students. “Pomona, I see that you've brought me a curious lot,” he said, stepping from the shadows.

There was a considerable number of shrieks and gasps as the young girls reacted to his presence. 

“Ollivander," Professor Sprout said with a smile. “We've had some last-minute additions to Hogwarts.”

“I see,” Ollivander said, studying his customers. “From Equestria unless I miss my guess.”

“Yes.” 

“But where are my manners. Good morning Miss Greengrass, Miss Bones, Miss Belle, Miss Abbott, and Miss Brown. I trust you are here as accompaniment and there is nothing wrong with your wands.”

“Yes, sir,” the five girls chorused.

“I something wrong, miss?” Ollivander asked, turning his attention on the purple-haired Equestrian girl to whom he had yet to be introduced. She was squinting her eyes and peering toward the back of his shop.

“Diamond Tiara,” Diamond responded, not turning toward him. She seemed to consider her next words before saying, “I think something is calling me.”

“Oh?” Ollivander raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Then, by all means, go to it.”

Diamond turned her blue eyes on the old man and warily asked, “Are you sure?”

Ollivander stood to the side and gestured for her to proceed.

Eyeing the old man one more time, Diamond walked past him into his private work space. With unerring steps, she homed in on a dusty shelf in the very rear. On it sat a battered chest, roughly the size of a breadbox.

She hesitated and shot another questioning look at the shop owner. Wide eyed, he nodded for her to continue.

Diamond steeled her breath before reaching out and opening the chest. She heard Ollivander's sharp intake of air as the lid went up. Sensing the seriousness of the moment, she plunged her hand into the container and pulled out a long, lacquered box. The green and silver seemed to glow as she brought it close to her chest.

“Amazing,” Ollivander muttered as Diamond closed the chest. “Go on girl, open it.”

Diamond anxiously looked at Professor Sprout for permission before opening the box she held. Inside was a worn and antiquated wand. It might have been her imagination, but she could have sworn that it leapt into her hand even as she reached for it. As soon as she gripped it, a silver light washed over her body and she marveled in the rightness of the piece of wood she held.

“I want this one,” Diamond said hungrily. “Is it for sale?”

“No, my dear.” Ollivander said, walking forward and placing his hand on her head. “My family has been the caretakers of that chest for a very long time. If you could open it, then that wand already belongs to you.”





“Applejack! Darling!” Rarity called out making her way around the side of the barn where Big Mac had indicated his sister was. “Applejack I need your hel . . . Sweet Celestia! What is that!”

“Hey there, Rarity. Let me introduce you to Fluffy, Apple Bloom's new pet,” Applejack greeted brightly.

“. . . Her what?!”

“This here is Apple Bloom's new pet.” Applejack reiterated.

Rarity fought to regain her composure. “What's that he's chewing on?”

“That would be timberwolf haunch.”

Rarity's composure ran away screaming and she backed up in a futile attempt to follow. “Timberwolf haunch?”

“Yeah, it keeps trying to re-form, an' Fluffy jus' keeps breaking it back down. If'n it's like the last one, it's going to run away yipping first chance it gets.”





The clerk had her attention buried firmly in "Witches' Weekly" when the shop bell announced the arrival of customers.

“Cat!”

There came the sound of the front door opening a second time.

“Sweetie come back! Of course, there are cats; it's a pet store!”

Sighing, the clerk put down her magazine and prepared to attend to remaining children. A beautiful, young, blonde girl marched up to the counter and declared, “I need an owl that can make large deliveries.”





Professor Snape found himself sitting in front of his apartment's fireplace  yet again. He had just reviewed his favorite memory in Dumbledore's pensive. All things considered, it had been a good week. Not even the attack in the courtyard could dampen his mood. Truth be told, he relished when others were appreciative of his work. Despite the face he presented to the public, he was happy. It was a rare enough frame of mind for him, and he intended to relish it as long as possible. 

He was no fool, though. All good things had to come to an end.

As if on cue, his privacy was interrupted by the arrival of a large owl wearing a pouch. Frowning at the intrusion, Snape accepted the letter it was carrying.

How had it gotten into his private apartment?

After quickly reading the note, Snape produced his wand to tap the pouch. “Ex dimittere.”

After a rude noise, Snape was no longer alone in his apartment with only an owl.

“Ah hate being puked up.”

Snape stared dumbly at his visitor.

“Jus' a minute. Mah hat is still in that thar bag.”

Snape recognized her description from Minerva; supposedly she owned a large farm.

“Come here a sec Lodestone, it don't feel right to be without my hat.

Snape's visitor had huge tracts of land.

“Thanks, yer a good owl.”

Huge tracts of land.

“Hello, Ah'm guessing yer Professor Snape. Rarity asked me to mosey over and have a word with ya. She's still not supposed to come herself.”

Huge tracts of land and proudly wearing a hat and a smile. Snape's occlumency decided it was long overdue for a vacation and abandoned ship. “Gah,” he greeted.

“Mah name's Applejack, it's a right pleasure to meetcha.”

“Gah.”

“Are y'all alright?” A hand waved in front of his face, disrupting his view.

“Gah.”

“Wait right here, Ah'm gonna see if I can get y'all some help.”

The door to his apartment opened, and Snape had a few minutes to reacquire his composure.

“Ah'm so glad you were close by; something's wrong with that stallion.”

Applejack came back into the room, leading Minerva and Paola. Nope, there went his composure again. It was turning out to be a bad day for composure.

“See thar? Somethin's wrong with him.”

“Au contraire mon ami,” Paola disagreed. “I've yet to hear tell of him acting more normal.”

“Y'all speak fancy, jus' like Rarity.”

“I'm sorry Applejack,” Minerva said. “It looks like you just caught him off guard. Quite the achievement, considering how unflappable he normally is.”

“That can't be right. Gettin' thrown up by Lodestone's bag ain't that shocking.”

“I think she was referring to your minimalist outfit,” Paola offered.

“Ah didn't have a choice. The clothes that came with this here ring were much too tight. Ah couldn't breathe in 'em.”

“I can see how that would be a problem,” Minerva said. “However, Professor Snape is accustomed to women wearing clothes in his presence. Call it a human folly.”

“Oui,” Paola agreed. “He's not the most social individual to begin with. A naked woman in his quarters seems to be more than he can handle.”

“Y'all saying Ah scared him stiff?”

“I'm not sure he knows what to do with you in this situation.” Paola continued. “Perhaps you were coming on a touch too strong.”

“I don't think we are all on the same page here,” Minerva said.

“Ah wasn't goin' to mount 'im or anything like that,” Applejack objected.

It had taken some time, but Snape was slowly recovering his composure enough to talk coherently.

“Leastwise, not without his permission.”

Aaaand there it went again.





“Guys! Guys!” a pair of Slytherin girls said as they excitedly ran into the courtyard. “You are not going to believe what we just saw!”

“A naked woman just came running out of Snape's office. Naked as in no clothes.”

The crowd stared at the pair dumbfounded.

“Ow! If you don't stop pinching me I swear I'm going to hex you into next week!”

“Running and screaming bloody murder, I assume,” somebody ventured.

“No, she was screaming that Professor Snape was hurt and wasn't moving.”

“Zecora killed Snape?” a Ravenclaw gasped. “I guess, now we know why she was interested in him. It was just a set up.”

“It wasn't Zecora,” the first girl corrected. “It was a blonde I've never seen before. She was upset, so whatever happened wasn't on purpose. And she didn't rhyme once.”

“You're telling us that Professor Snape, the same man who has been teaching us potions all these years, had a naked blonde woman in his room?”

“Yes!”

“You're right, we don't believe you.”

“It's true!” The girls stamped their feet, offended. “She got Professor McGonagall and Miss Quint and ran back into his office.”

“That git!” a Hufflepuff girl exclaimed. “He hasn't been dating Zecora a week yet and he's already cheating!”

“You should have seen the blonde.” the second girl said. “She has looks that would make any man weak.”

“That doesn't make it any better,” the Hufflepuff insisted.

“Professor Snape must have brewed some new super love potion,” a Gryffindor boy said. “It's the only thing that could possibly explain this week.”

“I wonder if he's willing to sell doses,” another boy wondered.

The girls in the courtyard started sending stinging hexes his way.





“Are you feeling more yourself, Severus?” Minerva asked, holding out a glass of water.

“Yes, I must apologize for my rude behav...gah!”

“Paola sighed, “Would you please pull your blouse back down? You're not helping.”

“Ah can't help it. It's funny.”

“You're going to land him in the hospital at this rate.”

“Ah don't see what the big deal is. They're just udders. The cows back home have larger ones and nopony gives them a second look.”

Paola sighed, “The way you are going, someone is going to call the authorities and have you taken in.”

Defiantly, Applejack crossed her arms under her newest assets. "Is this a bust?" 

Snape's composure took the opportunity to flee one more time.
> Interlude 5: Memories
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was an idyllic isle, where no human had trod for centuries. Timeworn wards repelled all who were not already privy to the domain's secrets. Mighty glamours, the forebearers of the modern day Fidelius Charm, erased its location from history. This was a place of power, a place that many had fought and died to possess. Jealous protections had been placed to hide it. Unfortunately, when the casters had died, the secret had not been passed to even those who truly needed it.

Even the most ignorant of muggles had heard tell of regions where two or three ley lines intersected, places where magic operated at elevated levels. Here, five lines converged. There were only seven such regions on the entire planet. Atlantis had one, as did Shangri La and Mount Olympus. There was one in the Forbidden City, yet another in Northern America, and the last in South America. 

There had been a terrible accident at the northern one, leaving a tremendous rent in the earth so large that people still came to marvel at it to this very day. But, like its brethren, it too was lost to modern magic users. Those who had once held sway over these nexuses had been determined to take those secrets to their graves. 

This place had once been called Avion. It was a small island misplaced in a body of water, too insignificant to be noticed by cartographers, mentioned only in the most obscure of legends. On the isle was a pool of water, undisturbed and tranquil for a time unknown. 

Its true power had by no means been forgotten; unlike the previous masters of the land, they remembered, as did their children, and their children's children. They lived among the trees that dotted the perimeter of the pools, tweeting what most would consider nonsense. The normal ones of their kind would have taken up residence on the ledges of sheer cliff walls, but they thrived on the isolation that the magics provided.

Truth be told, they had never seen the one who emerged from the pool before, but they recognized what he was. They remembered what he was meant to do in this place. They remembered his purpose.

As one, from every nest in every tree, they lent their voices and trilled a greeting. As one, they articulated their approval.

Vengeance had arrived.





As he covered his evidence wall, he reflected on how his life had taken a turn for the better. His dreams had been realized. Magic was real. The hidden society was real. He could understand why they had slunk away into the shadows. He just needed to make them realize that those concerns had faded into the memories of time. They would be welcomed now.

Yes, there would be those who would hold onto the prejudices of the past, but they would be a small minority. This generation grew up on the ethos of Star Trek, voiding the hate, voiding the tribalism. This generation was ready for the diversity. Humanity could be made whole once more.

He would be a herald for the changes to come, he and his new girlfriend.

Together, they would reunite what had been sundered. They would bring a new age of prosperity to all. They would show the world that the truth was out there.

What the two worlds could accomplish together, neither could do alone. They should be brought together, no, must be bought together. United, they would usher in an age of miracles.

Girlfriend. That was a word he never thought he would be able to claim as his own. Life was so much better now that he had found the half his life had been missing.

Now, if only his mother would stop giving his girlfriend those little inflatable gifts. Impregnable or not, things would happen when they were meant to happen.

Curiosity prepared.





From the quiet upstairs study, she raised her head and perked an ear. Her herdmate had just called her name, and there had been an unrecognizable feeling projected in the call on top of the obvious urgency.

“Yes?” she hollered back, worried. “Is everything okay?”

There was silence, and she was well on her way downstairs before her herdmate replied, “An owl just flew in here. It had a letter addressed to us.”

“A letter?” she questioned, still unable to place the strange emotion in the air. “An owl?”

Tension mounted before the response came. “It's from our daughter.”

The level of worry rose sharply, and her voice quivered. “Is something wrong in Manehattan?”

“No.” Her herdmate's voice also quivered. “Our other daughter.”

She froze, mid-step. Memories flooded her mind. 

A frisky filly.

A charitable soul.

A hard worker.

A joy to be around.

A determined go-getter.

Devastated over rejection, a villainous conspirator.

A perpetrator of the most unforgivable of crimes.

Her baby.

“My baby!” she screamed as she tore down the remaining stairs. 

It had been ten years since she had seen her daughter.

“My baby!”

Ten years since the princess herself had laid down judgment.

“My baby!” There was a piece of furniture between her and her destination.

Ten years since her failure as a parent was made known to everypony.

“My baby!” The couch never stood a chance.

Ten years of not knowing. Ten years of praying for the best. Ten years of fearing the worst.

“Myyyyy Baaaaaaaaby!” Hooves were not made for polished wooden floors.

**Whump!**

Ten years of grief and regret.

“My Baby!” She snatched the letter from her herdmate's grasp. 

Tears rendered the action moot.

“My baby . . .” she whispered.

Love endured.





In a dusty storage room, somewhere in a respectable museum, sat a box. It contained a curious artifact, the purpose of which had never been divined. The fact that it was made of gold and gems had categorized it as art, albeit art that was atypical for the region and timeframe of its creation. Too valuable to dispose of and too abnormal to display, it sat in storage, seeing the light of day only when curious academics unearthed it to marvel at its uniqueness. 

It glowed red, fulfilling a part of its purpose.

No one witnessed it siphon the energies from the victim.

No one witnessed it prepare the next stage of the plan.

No one witnessed the counterattack, centuries in the making, build up to its release.

No one marveled at the forethought of their ancestors. 

Paranoia was vindicated.





He stood in the dappled shadows of the forest and observed his prey. His large frame was easily concealed by the darkness.

In the glade, the protector, well aware of his presence, sent a challenging stare back. The pristine white stallion stood protectively in front of the young witch that had befriended it. This was not the first of its kind to attach itself to the young and innocent. This was not the first that had come to the aid of such a child.

However, now was not the time to strike. He would bide his time until the girl returned home and was vulnerable. Once he had the child, the protector would follow.

He just had to wait.

When the time was right he would act.

In the near future, his master would be revived, and his memories of the days of glory would become reality once more.

Hatred exulted.





In a private conference somewhere in the Wizengamot headquarters, a group sat around a large table and made plans.

What they had predicted had come to pass.

Their opposition had done exactly what they had anticipated.

Their enemies had not only taken the bait but also swallowed the hook.

What was once a toehold was now a staircase.

The most pessimistic among them predicted that blood would flow.

The most optimistic among them worried over increasing security.

Now was the time to act.

They would keep the people safe.

They would help the people prosper.

The memories of how they were mistreated were still fresh.

The old rules that favored the few were in their sights.

The old traditions would be overturned.

The older laws hidden by the corrupt would be revived.

The Iustitia est Infirma was only the first weapon in their arsenal to be discharged. Usable only against members of the Wizengamot, it was a simple yet powerful rite. Its sole purpose was to adjudicate trespasses made by lawmakers. The true strength behind it was in the oaths of office each of those in power had to make in order to hold that position.

Now the laws were no longer hidden. They had already ordered and paid for a run of self-updating law books to be made available to anyone who asked, free of charge, freely given.

Change loomed.





Far from the jurisdiction of her pursuers, her newest residence was of a higher quality than the one she had inhabited not long ago. However, it was not a home. 

She had more money than she had acquired in all of her previous lifetime. However, she could not go home.

She was without allies; all she dared to contact were in custody.

She was without country; what had been her government had mutated into a ravenous beast, eager to eat her alive.

She remembered how it used to be. She remembered how it was supposed to be.

The filth had claimed what was rightfully hers.

Those who were beneath her were now in control. She could do nothing to rectify that. The ones whose loyalty she was supposed to rent had been priced beyond her means. The usurpers had persuaded them there were things worth more than mere galleons.

Even with her newfound prosperity, she didn't have enough to pay for the removal of all those who would stand in her way. Worse, they could out bankroll her if it came down to that. How many of them would drop before they reciprocated in kind?

The mongrels would need to be brought to heel, but how?

Bigotry simmered.





In the quaint cottage on the edge of civilization, he couldn't believe his luck.

He had been taken in by the kindest individual he for whom he could have hoped.

The strange little horse had healed his wounds and given him a place to stay.

In a bizarre parody of the stereotypical cat lady, his benefactor had collected more types of animal than he could shake a paw at.

Best of all, he had gotten out of Britain.

He was safe once more.

Safe and well feed.

The yellow pegasus had not been back for a day or two, but she had a friend who showed up and saw all of the animals fed.

The feeder was weirder than the yellow one. Whoever heard of an animal with rainbow hair?

Regardless, he was free to do his three favorite things -- sleep, eat, and the inevitable aftermath.

The only excitement had been when the orange flightless horse had shown up. She had gone upstairs for a few minutes before coming back down into the living room with a triptych mirror.

Then came the big surprise. The orange horse was an animagus witch. 

She must have been pretending to be a horse for a long time, though. When she returned to her human form, the dress she wore had obviously been from a time when she was a lot younger and smaller.

He had taken great pleasure in watching her rip it from her body. He had taken even greater pleasure in watching her model in front of the mirror.

Once she was naked before him, he was sorely tempted to resume his own human form to stun her with his master's wand before having his way with her. Only the uncertainty of his current situation prevented him from carrying through with the thought.

Still, life was good.

He could wait for a more perfect opportunity to claim the witch.

The stag wasn't the only one who would have a perfect woman.

Deceit dreamed.





In the comfort of the windowless basement, she sighed and laid down her latest book.

So close, yet so far.

She understood the theory, yet lacked the means.

She simply wasn't born with the talent.

She could only watch her daughter with pride.

She could only watch her daughter with envy.

A whole new world had shown itself to her.

A whole new world was forever out of her reach.

She wanted a wand.

A wand would be useless in her hands.

She sighed and fought down the useless tears.

If only she had a means to . . . wait a minute!

Eagerly, she took another form and referenced the first book. Diligently, she again memorized the first spell suggested, but this time with purpose.

She concentrated, scrunched her muzzle and said a word.

Joy filled her as light chased away despair.

Magic kindled.





A world away, a butterfly flapped its wings.

Events took a different path.

What was supposed to happen didn't.

What wasn't supposed to happen did.

Fate receded.

Chaos advanced.
> Chapter 53: Pink Pony's Party Preparations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The non-moaning Myrtle counted her blessings in time with the bouncing of her car. The drive to the Burrow was no longer a test of either her driving skill or her car's suspension. Through the miracle of magic, a bit of pavement barely larger than the car's footprint tracked the vehicle as it took the most direct route to the dwelling. The tall grass parted like a beaded curtain to allow passage, and it closed behind the vehicle, leaving no trace of any disturbance. Whatever it was that Arthur and Molly had done to their property had earned Myrtle's undying gratitude and her mechanic's eternal enmity.

Although the road was smooth as a mirror, the ride was a bumpy one. Despite being properly restrained in the shotgun seat, Amy managed an enthusiastic, happy dance that bounced the body of the car in time with her rhythm. Anticipation of taking to the air fueled each hop. If Myrtle were honest with herself, she would have admitted that witnessing Amy's sheer joy at her first flight was worth far more than the cost of the training broom. Even if her daughter never used that nondescript broom again, nothing could take away what that bit of wood and straw had given Myrtle. The fact that it had paved the way for her friendship with the older magical couple was icing on the cake.

When Myrtle pulled up in front of the house, Molly was already there waiting. The large redheaded woman smiled and waved, clearly overjoyed at the prospect of visitors.

Cutting the engine, Myrtle opened her door and called out, “Afternoon, Molly. How was your week?”

“Hello Myrtle, Amy. It's good to have you over,” Mrs. Weasley said walking over. “My week has been boring. I miss having my children to look after.”

“I can only imagine,” Myrtle said as her own daughter sprang from the car and quickly retrieved her broom from the back seat. “You really must pay me a visit when you are bored. I'm sure I could use the company when Amy is at primary.”

“I wouldn't want to be an inconvenience.” Molly shook her head.

“Says the woman who lets my daughter fly all over her property.”

“I love having you two around.” Molly watched Amy start to dart around, scraping against her broom's seven-foot service ceiling.

“And I would love to have you around as well,” Myrtle replied. “My mum would just adore meeting you.” The squib squinted at a pair of dots in the distance. “Well, I'll be. You really do use owls to deliver the mail.”

The dots gradually grew, with the first resolving itself into a large owl wearing a pouch. It glided in and landed on a picnic table not far from the front door. Seconds later, it was joined by a smaller cousin who clutched a large stack of envelopes.

“Hmmm,” Molly said as Amy landed to have a closer look. “That's Mrs. Belle's owl, not sure who the smaller one belongs to. Pity they didn't send the phoenix; that would have been quite the treat for you.”

Myrtle and her daughter studied the birds as the smaller of the two sorted through the envelopes it was carrying before offering one to Molly. Amy moved in to stroke the bird's feathers as Molly read.

“They do seem right clever,” Myrtle admitted. “Maybe I should consider getting one for Amy.”

“Get one for yourself,” Molly said absently. “Wait until Amy is school-aged before getting one for her.”

“I wouldn't have much use for one,” Myrtle disagreed.

“Owls are family. Trust me, once you have one, you will be wondering why you hadn't gotten one before,” Molly said before holding up the mouth-written card she had been reading. “Arthur and I have been invited to a party happening later today. Well, that's very short notice; how can anyone presume that we could just drop everything and go to a party at the drop of a hat?”

“Must be a last-minute thing,” Myrtle said as Amy continued to pet the strange owl. “Where's it at?”

“Someplace called Sugarcube Corner,” Molly said. “The invitation wasn't very informative. It just told me to lift the flap on the pouch if we wanted to attend. But, now that I think of it, Hermione Granger is one of Ginny's new friends, so it probably is a last-minute thing.”

“Oh, a children's party.” Myrtle nodded in understanding. “That does justify the sudden . . . Amy don't touch that!”

“Gulp!”

“Oh my god!” Myrtle screamed. “That bag just ate my daughter!”

Molly sighed. “I guess we are going to the party after all. Hold on a minute and I'll go get Arthur.”





The concentration of estrogen in Professor Snape's office was at unprecedented levels. Despite the distractions, he had recovered enough to reconfigure the office, conjuring comfortable chairs for the three smirking women while he retained his normal seat and sat opposite the three. While he was uncomfortable at having to share the topic with so many others, he had the presence of mind to realize that conferring alone with the Stetson-wearing woman would be a mistake of the highest order.

With as much decorum as he could muster, he said to Applejack, "Thank you for responding so promptly. Although I am loath to admit it, I find that I have been dropped into a sensitive situation, and the cleanest resolution requires your assistance."

“Well now,” Applejack said, leaning back in her chair with her fingers laced behind her head. “I know how much of a hoofful the girls can be. Yer letter said it was in regards to their education, so Ah'm more than happy ta help.”

“To be more precise,” Professor Snape said, lacking his customary detachment as his occlumency still refused to reassert itself, “this is in regard to Miss Belle. Miss Aloo performs at expected levels, and Miss Bloom is very gifted. I foresee her continuing on to receive her N.E.W.T. . . . perhaps her Masters in Potions.”

“That's mah girl.” Applejack did little to hide her pride. “But hold on a minute here. Yer basically trying to teach Sweetie Belle how to cook up magic?”

“That is a rather unique interpretation, but fundamentally correct,” Snape said disdainfully.

In response, Applejack hopped from her seat and flung her arms around Snape as she tried to draw out the trauma of witnessing Sweetie Belle's cooking through osmosis. “You poor, poor stallion. Ah kin only imagine what you've been through. Ah've seen with mah own eyes what that filly can do with a cup of sugar, a bowl of flour, and no magic.”

“Mfffft!” Snape answered back, unsure what to do with his flailing hands.

“Applejack,” Professor McGonagall chided with amusement in her voice. “I am sure Professor Snape cannot breathe properly when you do that.”

“Though I'm sure he doesn't mind being kept abreast of the situation,” Paola added.

“Sorry.” Applejack released Snape and retook her seat. “That was a Pinkie Pie move. Ah'm not sure what came over me.”





A rare silence had settled over the heavily-used family room as the woman of the house sat on the couch, finally able to catch up on the latest chapter of the gunslinger's quest. As captivating as the story was, finding time to read seemed nigh impossible. On a day like today, however, the impossible happened. Her husband had taken the boys to football practice, and the girls were upstairs doing who knows what. It was a lazy Sunday; there was nothing she needed to do and nowhere she needed to be.

Her day took a turn for the better when the impossible happened again; a pair of owls landed on the back of the sofa. Eyeing the birds, she said, “Here now, how did you two get in here? The windows are closed.” Then looking over her shoulder, she projected her voice. “Eva! Rosie! Come quick; your brother has sent mail and you wanted to see the owls when they came.”

There came the unmistakable sound of children upstairs rushing as the woman accepted an envelope from the smaller messenger.





“Yes,” Snape said matter-of-factly. “The whole class, stuck to the ceiling, and I'm still not sure what to make of what she did to my lab.”

“Y'all don't have to tell me the gory details,” Applejack said. “Like Ah said, a cup of sugar and some flour and nuttin' else. Still that don't explain how Ah kin help. Are y'all sayin' that Sweetie shouldn't be allowed to make potions?”

“By no means.” Snape seemed to hesitate before continuing. “I have just returned from the headmaster's office where I was informed that the standards for my upper classes have been lowered, despite my misgivings. Furthermore, I have been informed that we shall be hosting yet another faculty member installed by Mr. Discord. Since I am committed to take on additional work and you ponies seem willing to offer patronage, I have forced myself to swallow what's left of my pride. It is my intention to petition Mrs. Belle to fund an apprentice. They would focus on helping me teach my more demanding classes while working toward their mastery under my tutelage. Miss Belle would be their sole responsibility when she is brewing potions.” The conflict between pride and practicality was clear on the normally-stoic professor's face. It obviously took a lot for the professor to get that out.

“Wait,” Paola said, turning to Applejack. “You're a pony?”

“Yes ma'am. 100% earth pony.”

"Now, this nudity thing makes sense," said Paola. "I knew Severus couldn't charm anyone like that."

“If we could focus on the business at hand?” Snape said testily.

“Ah've seen what Discord is paying them tutors from the girls' vault,” Applejack noted. “Would one of those apprentices be costing near the same?”

“I am sure we could negotiate the price downward, since he would be advancing his own career in the process. It is not uncommon for the more well-off apprentices to pay for the privilege. However, I want one who is committed and in need of the education. That means funding them until they can stand on their own. The other type is prone to be less attentive and more demanding,” Snape answered.

“Y'all want somepony who is serious an' not a noble looking to bolster her own reputation, huh?” Applejack said knowingly. “This would be helping somepony get their hoof in the door, so to speak.”

“In a nutshell, yes,” Snape said.

“Would two be enough or would y'all rather three or four? Sweetie Belle can be a right terror in the kitchen.”





“Honey!” Dan called down the basement stairs. “Apple's sister's owl just showed up with another one. They had an invitation for a party. Looks like we won't be missing Hermione's birthday after all.”





Sweetie Belle exited the floo and used her momentum to launch herself into an enthusiastic tour jeté, clearing the landing area and facing the floo. In spite of the company, she had enjoyed shopping all morning. She even had a package of wand holsters as a consolation prize for being abandoned by the other Crusaders. On top of that, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon had been surprisingly civil for the entire outing. They had even been, dare she say it, pleasant. This left Sweetie in an uncomfortable position because it left her with only one course of action.

The flames flared green, and Lavender entered the room and quickly came to stand next to Sweetie. “That was fun,” she commented. “I thought Madam Malkin was going to break her face smiling over that order for three full wardrobes.”

The flames flared again and Silver Spoon came tumbling in. “Ow!” she said, getting to her feet. “I'm never going to get used . . .” That was as far as she got when the flames went green again and Hanna Abbot stumbled into her, sending them both tumbling onto the ground.

“You forgot to move,” Hanna noted as Daphne appeared and joined the pile.

“I knew I should have given you a few more seconds,” Daphne complained as Diamond Tiara put in her appearance and became king of the hill.

“You do realize that Professor Sprout is going to come through eventually,” Sweetie said to the growing heap.

Horrified, the girls scrambled away as Clouded Hope materialized and added her momentum to their flight.





“Will you be staying for lunch?” Paola asked as the three women left Snape's quarters. “I would love to get to know you better and introduce you to Filius.”

“Thank you kindly fer the hospitality,” Applejack said, wondering why the female students who had seen them exit the office were scowling, “but Pinkie is throwing a party this afternoon, and it would best if'n Ah saved mah appetite. She always has tons of vittles an' Ah only have so much room. 'Sides, once Lodestone shows up, Ah need to head home an' finish some chores right quick.”

“Traveling by owl seems undignified,” Paola said. “There must be a better way."

“Ah don’t exactly have much choice in the matter. Right now, it's either Discord or Lodestone, an’ Ah have no idea where Discord is. Fer that matter, Ah’m not rightly sure where Lodestone has wandered off to.”

“You can ask your owl to answer another’s requests. So, don’t be surprised if he goes to help another you’ve given that permission to,” Professor McGonagall informed the transformed pony. “However, he will always come to you, since he is your owl.”

“Actually, he’s Big Mac’s pet,” Applejack corrected. “Ah’ve just been hogging his attention a lot lately.”

“In that case, you may have to wait until he finishes whatever task Big Mac has set for him,” McGonagall said. “You may yet be our guest for lunch.”

Applejack sighed, “Mah chores sure ain’t getting done today at this rate.”

“Regardless,” Paola said, “you’re here, so you might as well get in that visit you were asking about. With luck, Apple Bloom will be in the Gryffindor tower with her friends.”

“If’n it comes right down to it, Ah can hitch a ride with them when Discord comes to get them for the party.”

“Which reminds me,” McGonagall said, “I neglected to bring it up last night, but I need to have a word with him about removing students from the grounds without informing the staff or getting permission.

“Good luck with that. Discord ain’t one to lose sleep over breaking the rules.”

“I’m sure Minerva can make him see things her way,” Paola said.

“Ah wouldn’t count on it.” Applejack shook her head. “Princess Celestia has tried an’ she hasn’t had much luck. The only pony he listens to is Fluttershy. Y'all are better off asking her to bring it up with him.”

I’ll do that then,” McGonagall agreed. “In the meantime, let’s reunite you with your misplaced family.”





“Hello Mr. Minister.” Arthur Weasley said, holding out his hand in greeting. “I see you’ve accepted the invitation as well.”

“Arthur,” Mr. Lovegood said with a smile. “Good to see you. Though it does seem rather crowded in here.”

“Yes, whoever sent their owl didn’t take into account all of the people it might be bringing back. I would do introductions, but shuffling around would be difficult.”

“I’m sure there will be time for that later,” Mr. Lovegood said. “Hello Molly, Mr. and Mrs. Brown” He nodded at the people in question. “And Marcy, my I haven’t seen you since you went off and married that muggle. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Xenophilius, congratulations on becoming Minister,” Marcy replied. “And my condolences; I just heard what happened to your wife. She will be missed.”

“So, I understand this is not a normal occurrence?” another woman huddled with two small girls asked.

“Nope, it’s a first for me,” Arthur replied. “A gracious gesture, but some more thought should have been given to the available space. Don’t worry though, I think that’s the last parent of the students in my youngest’s class.”





Sweetie and Lavender followed the Slytherins after they left Professor Sprout's office. With an ill-concealed sigh, Sweetie Belle spoke up. “Diamond Tiara, Pinkie Pie is throwing a party today for Hermione’s birthday and her cuteceñera. Would you and your herd like to come?”

“A Pinkie party? Why would I even think of missing that?” Diamond said, and Silver Spoon perked up at the thought.

“You have two weeks to catch up on,” Daphne reminded her. “Classes resume tomorrow.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Silver Spoon said. “Let’s go get Draco Malfoy; we’re not going to miss a Pinkie party if we can help it. The food alone will make up for the extra studying we will have to do.”

“Yes, and it will be a big surprise for our new colt,” Diamond said. “I’m sure he’s not experienced anything like it.”





“Al’ right!” Apple Bloom called to the flyers. “Time ta wrap it up; we got places ta be and grub to get.”

“Awwww,” groaned the bulk of the airborne ponies as they came to land in front of her with varying degrees of refinement. Their sentiment was echoed by the assembled watchers, many of whom stepped forward with a clear desire to pet pretty petite prismatic ponies. A scowl from Percy kept them at bay, though.

“An’ you,” Apple Bloom said to the black and blue pegasus filly. “Go get yer sister. Ah’m sure she won’t want to miss this.”

Parvati worriedly looked up at the redhead and said, “Um, sure. Thanks for inviting her.”

“Don’t fret none,” Apple Bloom said. “Yer invited, too.”

Parvati studied Apple Bloom for a second before taking off the pendent she was wearing and handing it to the other girl. “What gave me away?”

“This an’ that.” Apple Bloom accepted the jewelry and Philomena abandoned her elevated perch to land on her shoulder. “Hurry now; ah want ta be heading out soon.”

“What are you two talking . . . oh.” Hermione sputtered, checking Parvati’s hand for her absent ring. “That’s sneaky.”





The Overseer looked up from the reports he had been perusing to fix the runner with a deadly stare. “What do you mean ‘an owl made off with the elder lady'?”





Sugarcube Corner was decorated to the nines. Streamers dominated the ceilings, and a festive fluorescent orange banner visible from the front door proudly announced Hermione's cuteceñera and birthday party. Posters for different games were strategically placed, and confetti cannons were set to spray their contents so that they would land away from the food. Hanging from the center of the ceiling, a disco ball slowly spun, scattering dots of light.

In a feat worthy of the practically perfect pink party planner, the dining area was laid out to host the party of all parties. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. Muggle and wizard alike would be mind-boggled that so much could be put into so small a space while maintaining an airy atmosphere. It seemed as though anywhere one was, there was a table laden with party fare only a few steps away. Some tables featured cupcakes of every description, each clearly visible and begging to be enjoyed. Punch bowls showed off every color in the rainbow, with each hue promising a different flavor. Crustless sandwiches, quartered into triangles, were arrayed like dragon's teeth on large platters. Enough pastries to put Denmark to shame were somehow shoehorned into the mix, glistening in sugar-glazed glory. The pièce de résistance, however was the cake. Each layer was decorated to look like a set of grimoires, in recognition of the guest of honor's passion, her studies, and her exploits that would bring more than a tear to Twilight's eyes.

In the midst of this cornucopia was a pink party pony who had defied all logic by performing all the preparations by herself. As she darted about touching up the finest details, a pair of familiar feathered friends touched down on her withers, lest they spoil any of the mare's preparations.

“Lodestone! Owlowiscious!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Do you like? The Princess gave me the bits so that I could make a good impression on the humans.

“Hoo,” the larger Owl opined.

“You’re right.” Pinkie nodded her head enthusiastically. “I’ll let them out right away. Gummy can’t wait to meet them.” With that she reached around and placed a hoof on the pouch Lodestone wore.

With a volcanic belch, the bag regurgitated its contents, depositing the guests in a jumbled heap on the floor. The youngest were the quickest to recover, exclaiming, "Pony!" as Pinkie Pie enthusiastically greeted them with a group hug.





Behind drawn shades, a mint green unicorn’s head shot up, disturbing the mare she was cuddling with on the couch.

“My human sense is going off,” Lyra declared.

“Don’t be silly,” Bon Bon countered. “You don’t have a human sense. Hey! Come back here! I wasn’t finished with you yet!”





As the three women approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, the gatekeeper within cleared her throat and gestured to one side. Paola caught the hint first and spun around to find the Gryffindor herd hot on her heels. She informed her companions, "Looks like they're behind us."

Applejack spun and exclaimed. “Apple Bloom!”

“Applejack?” Apple Bloom froze as the unfamiliar form of an amazon bore down on her. There was no way it could be stable with that much mass at chest level. “Applejack!” she cried happily after she found herself in a tight embrace.

Words failed her as Applejack continued to clutch her wayward sister. The others watched indecisively, unaware of the feast the two were feeding Clouded Hope as she and the rest of the children who had made a morning outing joined the spectators.

“Who’s that?” Lavender asked the obvious question.

“That’s Apple Bloom’s big sister Applejack,” Scootaloo said, trying not to sound jealous.

“She’s big,” Ron noted. “I’ll wager she could snap one of us in half just by looking at us.”

“If you think she’s strong, just wait 'til you meet Big Mac.” Scootaloo said.

“I’ve seen what Apple Bloom can do,” Dean said. “It’s clear I won’t be winning any arm-wrestling contests with anyone in their family.”

“Now that we’re all here, why don’t we get going?” Harry asked, uncomfortable around the still-hugging sisters.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait; Mr. Discord isn’t here yet.” Paola countered.

“I’m not?” Discord asked, standing right next to the Veela. She was the only one startled by his unannounced appearance.

“Discord!” the massed children exclaimed.

Seamus added. “Saw that coming. It’s like a trademarked move for you.”

A soft voice said, “He does like appearing unexpectedly.” Paola spun in place. Behind her stood two women. The one with long, flowing black hair was a typical human. The pink-haired woman, however, made Paola scowl. Such a beauty could not be a mere human, but she had none of the tells of a Veela.

“Fluttershy!” Dean, Neville and Ginny said in unison.

“Hello, Miss Rutter.”

“It would seem that we are all here.” Discord smiled. “So, without further delay.”

“Wait!” Diamond Tiara started.

*Snap!*

“We haven’t gotten Draco Malfoy yet,” she finished, finding herself standing in a barnyard. The large red building behind her was redolent with familiar scents.

“Sorry, my bad,” Discord said. The assembled humans stared at him in awe; his true form was finally revealed to them. It barely registered to them that Fluttershy and the herds had taken on their equine forms.

*Snap!*

A startled Draco, in an extreme state of dishabille, appeared among the rest of the travelers.

Harry frowned when he saw that his would-be rival was shivering.

Jealously, Diamond Tiara said, "Hey!" as Sweetie Belle brought Draco's hand to her mouth. As she pulled away, the boy transfigured into a colt.

Sweetie Belle said gently, "He was cold, Diamond Tiara. I know it's hard, but he is your colt; you have to take care of him."

As she watched Fluttershy nuzzle Discord, Alice said absently, "You're a dragon. I'm in love with a dragon."

Discord pulled up in an exaggerated show of offense. "I am a draconequus, not some brutish dragon."

"Whatever," Alice said as she wrapped him in a passionate embrace. "You're mine."

“um,” came a soft objection.

“And Fluttershy's.” Alice quickly amended.

“Where am I?” Draco yelled, shaking off his shock.

“Mr. Malfoy, please refrain from such outbursts,” Professor McGonagall reprimanded. “And Mr. Discord, a little warning in the future would be appreciated.”

“Huh?” Discord said, tearing his attention from Alice and Fluttershy. “Where is the fun in that?”

Concurrently, Draco looked at Silver Spoon, the confusion plain on his face. “Sorry, professor,” he said reflexively.

“We're going to a party,” Silver Spoon answered the confused colt.

“Welcome to Sweet Apple Acres,” Applejack announced, letting go of Apple Bloom. “When did we get here?”

“Just like her sister; ovivious,” Lavender commented.

Before either Apple could reply, the ground started shaking as the farm's newest resident made himself known. And there was much screaming. And, there just might have been some running about in panic as the giant three-headed dog homed in on Fluttershy, intent on receiving some attention.





A groggy Twilight Sparkle looked up from her coffee when Spike led Cloud Kicker into the kitchen.

“Morning,” she said, half-awake, not leaving her spot.

“Afternoon,” Cloud Kicker returned, pointing a wing in the general direction of Sugar Cube corner. “The mayor would like it if you were at the bakery to act as a moderator. Pinkie has done something unexpected.”

Twilight sighed and abandoned her precious black gold. “That's to be expected,” she muttered, following the pegasus from the room.





Fluffy lay on his side, enjoying a good belly rub, as the distinct howling of a fleeing timberwolf was heard in the distance.

"As much as we'd like to attend the big event, my mares and I would like to get to know each other better first." He produced a familiar puzzle box. As he upended the box, several rings jangled out and tumbled to the ground. "Here are rings for whomever needs them. Toodles!" With a snap of his claws, his nascent herd vacated the scene.

“Can we stop fooling around and get to the party?” Scootaloo complained. “I'm starving!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, a rainbow stream of light claimed the spot where she had been standing. In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

“Someone shot Scoot with a laser!” Seamus cried out.

“She's gone!” Dean wailed, frantically looking for the shooter.

“Baaa uni corn!” Magah added.

“Relax,” Hermione said. “That was just her mother. She'll be fine.”

“Her mother shoots lasers from her eyes?” Dean asked warily.

“Not exactly.” Sweetie laughed.

“Has anyone seen where Clouded got to?” Hanna Abbott asked.

A sea of shrugs prompted her to turn her attention back to the rapidly-accelerating rainbow trail. "You Gryffindors don't do boring, do you?"

The double boom that followed the rainbow-hued vapor cone emphasized her point.
> Chapter 54: Party Hearty
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the barnyard of Sweet Apple Acres, the uninitiated received a glimpse of what it meant to live in the magical land of Equestria. As the rainbow-hued vapor cone dissipated into fading pastels, the intangibles came to the fore. Every structure projected a mute greeting. Every plant seemed to smile. Even the land itself felt welcoming. Those who were native to this place knew the feeling well. The visitors would have a hard time putting the ambiance into words. If asked, the youngest among them would say it best; they were home.

The cloud overshadowed the silver lining with a sacrilegious wail. "Why am I a horse?!?!"

The specialness of the moment was truly gone. Professor McGonagall focused on the speaker and said in a controlled tone, "Mr. Malfoy, while I empathize with your disorientation, I must insist that you moderate your outbursts."

"Yes, professor," the small lime-green colt said in an obviously strained tone, "but, why am I a horse? Where am I? How could I walk into the shower and end up on a farm dodging a giant dog?"

“You’re not a horse.” Diamond Tiara sniffed, trotting up to stand in front of Draco. “You’re a pony, an earth pony worthy of carrying on my name.”

Only pure confusion kept Draco from proverbially putting his hoof into his mouth. As the paradigm shift completly stripped the gears of his thought process, he managed to sputter, "H . . . how?!"

“The ring I put on your finger, silly.” Sweetie Belle said, claiming a new ring from the pile Discord had left.

“Ooh,” Susan Bones said hurrying over to the jewelry herself. “I wanna be a pony, too.”

Hanna squealed in delight before she followed Susan’s lead while Daphne sauntered over with feigned nonchalance as she joined the other two girls.

“How do I change back?” Draco asked.

“You just concentrate, but you might want to have your clothes at hand before you try,” Hermione said.

“Just enjoy all your new senses,” Dean said, flapping his wings to hover in place. “You’ll love it once you get used to it.”

Meanwhile, Magah deliberately positioned herself between the foals and the three-headed dog who was still begging for belly rubs. “Baaaa ddd?” she questioned.

“Dean’s right,” Harry said as he hovered next to his herdmate.

“Besides,” Silver Spoon said, moving to stand next to Draco, “you make a cute colt.”

Apple Bloom added, "Can't you feel the magic coming in through your hooves?"

Draco made a face. "I don't think that's magic I'm stepping in."

It took little time for Susan to slip a ring on a finger, and even less for a pudgy earth pony filly to appear. “I’m pink!” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Fuchsia," observed Dean.

“I’ve got wings!” Hanna proclaimed, mirroring Susan’s joy while spreading new tangerine appendages.

Daphne examined her pale-yellow hoof without comment, seemingly oblivious to the horn sticking out of her forehead.

Sparing a glance at the newest ponies, Apple Bloom ambled over and collected the remaining rings from the ground. “Here ya go,” she said offering one to Percy before going to Professor McGonagall then to Paola before finally offering one to Parvati’s twin sister.

Padma beamed brightly as she accepted the band. After placing it on her finger she shrank and stood as a black pegasus sporting a dark blue mane. In fact, she looked exactly like her sister but with the colors reversed.

“Hey!” Ginny uttered as the connection was finally made in her mind.

Meanwhile, Paola walked over to Sweetie Belle, rolling the ring she had been given over in her hand. “I’m afraid, I’m going to have to decline,” she said, handing her ring to the filly. “I am not willing to risk this at this time.”

“Don’t ya worry,” Applejack said. “It ain’t going to hurt you none.”

“Perhaps.” Paola returned, “but I’m not willing to risk my child on untested magics.”

“Oh!” Applejack said. “Ah, can see where you would think that. Congratulations! Ah'm sure they'll be a special foal.”

“Thank you.” Paola grinned.

Professor McGonagall placed her ring on her finger and felt a familiar sensation as she shrank. Bewildered, she said, “Meow?”





“Humans!”

“Lyra! For buck's sake! No!”





Eagerly, Button Mash cantered alongside his mother as the two made their way toward the bakery. A party planned by Pinkie Pie was always a treasured event, even one put together as quickly as this one was supposedly to have been. He could almost taste the cherry peppermint cupcakes remembered from the last one she had thrown. If he were lucky, there would be plenty waiting when he arrived. Then there were the games. Button Mash just adored the games the pink party pony produced. The afternoon was guaranteed to be exciting.

When his mother opened the door, Button Mash rushed forward in his eagerness to scout out the refreshments.

“Baby pony!” a voice shrieked and he found himself scooped up from behind by an unseen assailant and cuddled while restrained in a tight hug.

“Rosie!” an exasperated mare’s voice snapped. “Put him down this instant. He’s not a pet. He’s a person.”

“But mum.” Button Mash managed to squirm around to face his captor. He was shocked to find a human filly wearing a defiant pout.

“Don’t ‘but mum’ me, young lady. You’re being rude.”

“But mum,” Rosie repeated, holding Button Mash up for show, “baby pony!”

“I’m not a baby!” Button protested loudly.

“You’re a cute baby pony,” Rosie cooed as she snuggled with him.

“Moooooom!” Button wailed.





Richard Brown looked down at the eager green unicorn staring back up at him expectantly. “No, I don’t think I shall take off my robe and pants so you may examine my legs more closely. Neither shall my wife.”





Well above the ground, a pegasus sat on a cloud and hugged her quarry firmly to her barrel. It had been over five minutes and not a word had been spoken. Eventually, the smaller, trapped pegasus asked, “Dash?”

“Hello, squirt,” Rainbow Dash said, not loosening her grip in the slightest.

Scootaloo said, “Um. Hello.” She was sure this was the longest hug she had ever experienced.

“I missed you,” Rainbow confided.

Unable to move, Scootaloo said, “Um, I missed you too.”

Rainbow didn’t answer; she just continued to hold the filly.

Baffled, Scootaloo basked in the affection.





The trot to Sugarcube Corner was enough to bring Twilight fully awake. Whatever it was that Pinkie had done had been enough to worry the mayor. Twilight was aware that the diplomatic pony was even more accustomed to Pinkie's antics than she was herself. Worry caused visions of everything from carnivorous pastries to visiting dignitaries being doused with frosting. The latter was highly probable, if stories of the pink mare’s last appearance at day court were anything to go by.

Luna was still asking when it would be feasible for Pinkie to attend night court. Twilight was almost sure that was one of the night princess’s rare jokes. After all, court couldn’t be that boring.

Of course, foreseeing future foolery from the frustratingly festive full-fledged faux filly would fundamentally finish in frustration. It was therefore a trepidatious Twilight who trotted to the Cake's trendy trattoria.

“Woah,” Spike said from her side. “That’s a lot of humans.”

Astonished by the sheer number of primates present, Twilight quickly surveyed the foreigners animatedly conversing with the local ponies arriving for a party. She let a frown creep over her muzzle when her first scan came up empty. After a second attempt, she gave up and let out an impassioned shout. “Pinkie!”

“Yes, Twilight?!” Pinkie called, pronking out from the back of the shop. “I’m so glad you woke up in time! I was starting to worry that you and Spike might miss the fun!”

“Pinkie!” Twilight waved at the gathering, garnering the attention of every creature present. “How could you?”

“What?” Pinkie asked, scrutinizing the guests. “Celestia thought it would be a good idea to invite Hermione’s friends and family to a party in her honor.”

“How could you?” Twilight repeated, holding back her frustration.

“Relax Twilight,” Pinkie said dismissively. “Everything is going to work out just fine.”

“How could you?” Twilight repeated a third time, once again waving at the gathered humans, who were starting to frown in return. “You invited all of these humans and not one of them is Sirius Black. How could you? How could you forget to include him?”

“Ooooh,” Pinkie said as the humans relaxed. “I did send him an invitation, but the owls couldn’t find him. Mysteeeerious.” She then sat on her haunches and pointed an accusatory hoof at Twilight. “Also, you’ve got it bad.”





On a cloud perched two pegasi, locked in an embrace, one unwilling to move, the other unable. Silence was their witness as storge smiled upon them.





After some coaxing, the Hogswarts group proceeded to make their way towards town. It had taken an extraordinary promise to persuade Fluffy to stay behind despite his overwhelming desire to accompany the large group.

As they walked, Draco still looked around in confusion. He had a filly pressed solidly against either side and he was uncertain if they were trying to help him walk or if they just wanted to show their affection.

A part of Draco’s mind tracked the activities going on around him. Professor McGonagall was walking up front, conversing with both Professor Flitwick’s woman and a large orange pony preposterously wearing a hat that belonged in a sideshow. It appeared that the rings didn’t work as desired on the transfiguration professor, and she had opted to stay human.

Behind Draco, the Weasley prefect walked as a cream-colored unicorn with red mane and tail. He was bigger than the first years, but not as large as the orange pony up front. In turn, the prefect was strolling alongside the gigantic pure white unicorn that was Belle’s pet.

Meanwhile, the Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs, and even Greengrass were flitting all over the place in a chaotic three-dimensional mass, with several of them trying to earn their wings. Even Hope had spontaneously reappeared to join in the fun.

As Draco staggered along, the weight of the last couple weeks came crashing down. He had lost everything that had given his life meaning. His father, his mother, his wealth, his betrothment, they were all gone. He should have been elated at his betrothal to the heir of the Slytherin, but the honor was his future bride's; he was the trophy spouse to be displayed like a new toy. What stuck in his craw was that she wasn't even really human. What did that make him? Why did the law allow Ritter to bind him to such an abomination?

He was doomed. Would the Malfoy name even live on? It was she who would head the family; there was no way any of their children could be purebloods. Would they even be human or would they be tainted by that horse's blood? Would the House of Malfoy end with the clip clop of tiny hooves? There was nothing he could do but suffer and curse his fate. Even his dignity had been stripped away; he was sure everyone was laughing at his recent exposure. All that he had left was his pride, pride that demanded that he fulfill his obligations with all the composure he could muster. He would be damned if he gave that up; it was the only piece of himself that was left.





“Rainbow Dash?” Scootaloo ventured. “Shouldn’t we head to the party?”

“Yeah.” Rainbow loosened her hold and set Scootaloo onto the cloud. “Yeah, we’ll head over soon.”

“Are?” Scootaloo was having difficulty fitting her mental image with the mare in front of her. “Are you all right?”

“I am now,” Rainbow said smiling dreamily at Scootaloo.

“Are you sure?” Scootaloo narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You’re acting weird.”

“It’s nothing.” Rainbow gestured dismissively. “I’m just really glad to see you.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” Scootaloo pressed.

“Yes.” Rainbow shifted uncomfortably under the smaller pegasus’ gaze. “I . . . um . . . I’ve been thinking of getting a place in town.”

“What?” Scootaloo gasped. “Why? You have a wonderful house already. I love your house.”

“It’s just that.” Rainbow rubbed the back of her head with a forehoof. “It’s just that I want a place you can get to easily. You know how hard it is for you to get that far off the ground.”

“That’s not true!” Scootaloo loudly objected, flapping her wings to gain some altitude. “That’s not true anymore!”

It was Rainbow Dash’s turn to gasp. Her eyes slowly widened as comprehension fought its way into her mind. “You’re . . . You’re . . .”

“Professor Snape made a potion that fixed me.” Scootaloo beamed, hovering above the cloud. “I can get to your house all on my own now.”

“That’s . . . that’s . . .. AWESOME!!!!!” Rainbow jumped from the cloud and joined Scootaloo in the air. Laughing, the two began an aerial ballet as Scootaloo reasserted her birthright, all thoughts of the party forgotten.





“Twilight Sparkle?” A human walked over holding out his hand. “Arthur Weasley. Pleased to meet you in person.”

“Arthur Weasley.” Twilight held out a hoof in greeting. “Welcome to Ponyville.”

“Thank you.” Arthur took the hoof and gave it a gentle shake. “Please allow me to introduce Xenophilius Lovegood, our current Minister.”

“Hello, Xenophilius Lovegood.” Twilight once again offered her hoof. “Welcome to Ponyville. I hope you enjoy your visit.”

“I’m sure that I will.” The blonde human politely shook her appendage. “Though, I must admit being surprised to find that our hosts are a previously unencountered people.”

“Discord is involved,” Twilight answered. “Expect surprises.”

“Lyra! Stop trying to get the humans to remove their clothes, you're making them uncomfortable.” Bon Bon’s voice could be heard from the other side of the bakery.

“It’s a valid scientific inquiry,” Lyra protested.

“I predict some interesting culture shock,” Arthur said, turning toward the disturbance.

“Aaaaah! Dragon!” came an alarmed cry from another direction.

“Very interesting,” Twilight agreed.





Sirius Black looked up from the book he was skimming and smirked at Narcissa and Remus, who had come downstairs for the first time that day. “You two missed all of the excitement.”

“I dare say we had our own excitement to contend with.” Narcissa returned contentedly with a sly smile.

“Mum!” Nymphadora whined, lowering the book she had been searching. “Aunt Nissy is doing it again.”

“Hush, dear,” Andi said, not abandoning her own book. “You are old enough to be making your own comments of that nature.”

“Mum!”

“Don’t ‘mum’ me. Whatever happened to that nice Weasley boy you used to keep going on about?”

“Charlie moved to Romania,” Nymphadora said as if her mother should have already known.

“Well, owl him and let him know that your mother is ready for some grandchildren. I’ll wager that will have him coming at a run,” Andi said.

“Mum!” Nymphadora gasped.

“You said there was some excitement?” Remus felt an urgent need to change the subject.

Sirius didn’t try to hide his amusement. “Yes, the owl wards are all wonky. Well, it’s more like someone has taught their owls how to apparate.”

Ted, who had also been nose deep in a book, said. “I wouldn’t call it apparating. It was more like they were flying from somewhere we couldn’t see. Once they were in view, they turned around and flew back the way they came. A few seconds later, they would repeat the process. They kept going until they finally gave up.”

“We’re trying to figure out how they found us in the first place,” Andi added. “Sirius is having his mail routed through his lawyers for a reason, you know.”

“As interesting as that sounds,” Narcissa said, guiding Remus toward the kitchen, “we need some sustenance. We’ll help you research once we’ve had a bite.”

Remus playfully swatted at Narcissa. "Not that kind of bite."

Sirius grunted his acceptance before turning his nose back toward his book.





The Hogwarts group had started to collect an entourage of curious onlookers as soon as they entered the town. The locals were happy to see Professor McGonagall again, and the novelty of a princess-sized unicorn brought gasps of astonishment.

In fact, the crowd had grown so large that Apple Bloom started to gripe, “Ah can’t even see Sugarcube Corner through all these ponies,”

“Calm down, Apple.” Harry said, flittering a few meters over her head. “If you’re talking about that building that looks good enough to eat, we’ll be there soon enough.”

“Ah know,” Apple Bloom said, stomping a hoof for emphasis. “But, y'all would think these ponies had never seen a unicorn before.”

“Speaking of unicorns,” Dean said, pointing a hoof, “here comes one now, and she doesn’t look like she’s going to stop for the crowd.”

“Sweetie Belle!” came a desperate cry. Without warning, a glow delimited the path between the huntress and her prey. The unfortunate individuals caught within were levitated away and left hanging where they could chat with the pegasi. “Sweetie Beeeeeeeelle!” came the voice anew before a white and purple blur pounced on the crusader in question.

Magah gave a high piercing whinny as she charged at the attacker. She stopped short, inches from riving the black-streaked face of the assailant. She could sense no malice from her rival, there was only relief and love.

It took Sweetie Belle several seconds to respond to the onslaught. “Rarity!” she squeaked. “Get off, you’re embarrassing me!”

“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity sobbed, clutching the smaller unicorn, tears streaming from her eyes. “I had thought I lost youuuuuuuuuu!” She then let out a heart-wrenching wail.

“Okay,” Lavender said, watching her friend being smothered, “note to self, do not stand between Sweetie Belle and her mother.”

“Actually,” Apple Bloom started before another shout rent the air.

“Apple Bloom,” thundered a stallion’s voice, and the ground started to quake like a bowl of jelly. The source was so shocking that more than a few ponies were stunned into immobility. Fortunately, this did not include any who were standing between Apple Bloom and the now-stampeding red stallion.

The rush to get out of the way was punctuated by Orange Swirl, who lifted off the ground so fast that she left a swirling orange contrail for the first time in her life. Moreover, a couple of unicorns discovered that they could, despite the lack of training, teleport, given proper motivation.

Instinctively, Magah gave a primal screech as she threw herself bodily at the one who threatened her foal. A stamp that would have shattered concrete instead sent Magah reeling as maternal instinct met solid muscle. The red stallion didn't even blink as the unicorn landed in a heap.

“Don’t you ever run off like that, without telling anypony, ever again,” the large red stallion scolded, amazing the crowd with his eloquence.

“The food!” Clouded Hope exclaimed excitedly as Magah rolled to her hooves and reared menacingly.

“The food kin wait 'til we git to the party.” Apple Bloom snarled from within the hug she was receiving.

Seamus added, “Right now, we need Sweetie Belle to control her pet unicorn.”

“I’m kind of busy here,” Sweetie Belle returned, “and she’s not my pet.”

Rarity’s sobs halted abruptly. “Her pet what?”

“You know,” Padma opined, “it does sound pretty bad when you say it like that.”

“Gee, you don’t say,” Parvati deadpanned as Ginny rushed toward Magah, issuing soothing noises.

“And here I was thinking Apple Bloom had the most unusual pet imaginable, with Fluffy.” Rarity levitated Sweetie Bell at foreleg length to stare at her. “You just had to go and try to outdo her, didn’t you?”

“To be fair,” Neville interrupted, “Sweetie has had Magah longer. If anything, Apple Bloom is trying to outdo her.”

“You’re not helping!” Sweetie whined.





“Baby pony!” a cry announced and Hermione, the first through the door, found herself being snuggled by an unfamiliar little girl.

“Rosie!” a woman cried in irritation as she prepared to rescue yet another pony from her daughter.

Dean rushed to hover in front of the girl before saying. “Rosie, put Hermione down. I swear I’m going to give you such a smack!”

“Pink baby pony!” Rosie declared, and Dean realized his mistake as Hermione went flying over his sister’s shoulder.

“Fuchsia!” he countered even as his younger sibling snatched him out of the air.

“Fuchsia?” Dean’s mother questioned as she watched her two children reunite.

“Eh,” Parvati said from down near her feet. “He’s still in denial.”

“It’s his way of dealing with being pink,” Harry added.

“Fuchsia,” came the outraged retort. “I’m fuchsia, and don’t you forget it! Rosie put me down!”

“So?” Button Mash said from where he was relaxing in Rosie’s sister’s lap. “Does this happen often?”

“More than I’d care to admit,” Sweetie answered, laying back her ears.

“I don’t hear you complaining anymore,” Peppermint Twist said, jealously eyeing Button having his ears scratched by the human girl, before sending another glare towards Snails, who was lounging in Amy’s lap.

“Mum!” Abagail cried gleefully, flying over to land on Elisa’s head. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had.”

“It couldn’t have been near as crazy as mine,” Elisa said, reaching up to pull her transformed daughter into a hug, kissing her on the snout.

“Daddy!” came a dual pair of shouts. Xenophilius and Arthur soon had their arms full of fluffy goodness.

“Butterfly, I see you’ve had a productive couple of days.” Xenophilius said lovingly.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Ouch, Ginny, mind the horn. That hurt.” Arthur grunted as he rubbed his chin.

“My little girl!” Molly beamed, claiming the little unicorn from her husband. “Where’s your brother?”

Arthur pointed at the two foals who were rapidly depleting the nearest refreshment table. “I’d wager he’s the one without a bow in his hair.”

“Daddy!” exclaimed yet another voice, homing in on her target. “Mother! Look, this is my colt, Draco Malfoy.”

Having been bodily dragged over by his betrothed, Draco found himself looking up at a pair of ponies, the female of whom had an expression that would not have been misplaced on his own father. Reflexively, his mother’s training took hold. “Sir. Ma'am.” Draco greeted with an acknowledging nod of his head and click of his hind hooves before offering a forehoof.

“Well,” Spoiled Rich sniffed. “He seems polite enough. I do hope he is of proper breeding.”

“The Malfoys have always been of impeccable stock,” Draco informed her haughtily.

Narrowing her eyes, Spoiled asked, "Are there unicorns or pegasi in your family?"

With an aristocratic sneer, Draco replied, "No unicorns. No pegasi. My blood is pure."

“Good, my daughter deserves nothing less.”

“Dear, now is not the time,” Filthy Rich interjected. “Let the children have their fun. It is a party, after all.”

Spoiled relented. “You heard your father, go mingle.”

Magah stood just inside the doorway, unsure how to react to all of the individuals handling her charges. She didn’t sense any ill intent; instead there was more joy and love than she'd ever experienced. The herd was scattered all around the room, apparently happy. She did not let appearances assuage her maternal instincts; she was determined to track each one of her charges. For reassurance, she edged closer to the young unicorn who had once been the grabby human.

In the middle of the room, Pinkie Pie bounced into the air, clapping her forehooves together for attention. “All right, everycreature,” she announced as she poked gravity in the eye. “Now that the guest of honor has arrived, let’s party!”





Tonks just had to get out of the house. The antics were uncomfortably intimate, and everyone else seemed intent on taunting her. It seemed as though they wanted to compound the grief she received as a result of her name. Her mother was being absolutely insufferable; had she no idea the trouble she had caused? Sirius was worse, insisting on calling her by her much-hated given name of Nymphadora. There was only so much the girl could take. Head of house or not, Sirius was on a collision course with a tongue-lashing; soon, not even Andromeda's presence would save him.

Whatever her parents' motivation may have been, Nymphadora hated giving out her name. It seemed everyone she met got the wrong impression. She was a normal witch, not some hormone-fueled mass of insatiable desires. Her ability to change her appearance only added fuel to the fire as every boy, and more than a few girls, had asked her to mold herself into their ideal beauty and let them feel their way through a date.

She had hoped that Charlie would be different. In the end, he only wanted the same thing everyone else did. He even had the gall to point out the model. Her heart had been crushed when she realized that he was a pervert, just like every other boy in school. Was it asking to much for someone to like her for who she was and not for what she could become?

Despite her disappointments, she still yearned for the sort of relationship that every other girl seemed to have. There must be a soulmate for her, someone with whom she could connect beyond the physical level, someone who would see her as a person, not a toy to be shaped to their desires. Alas, there was no hope; her reputation was known throughout the wizarding community, and there was no way to change it.

These were tough times. When times get tough, the tough get shopping, and that is what Tonks decided to do.

Now that she was officially a member of House Black, she had been given a stipend that was modest in the ironic sense. The funds easily dwarfed the pittance she received for her current position, and they put even the salary of a full auror to shame. While she had always cherished the idea of going into law enforcement, she now found that she had the time to reflect upon what she truly wanted to do with her life. Realistically, she didn't need to work for a living, but a life of leisure rankled her sensibilities. Perhaps she should simply take a break to travel and explore what the world had to offer.

Her job in the Ministry had its frustrations. Between the hegemony and the rampant nepotism, she felt like a token half-blood, despite the mandates that all be treated equally. Some of the purebloods went as far as belittling her for her heritage. It was an open question as to whether she still wanted to pursue this career path, but, for now, any change would simply leave her adrift.

She found herself lost in thought as she meandered the length of Diagon Alley and back, paying little heed to what lay behind the windows that she perused. Only the voice of a friend prevented her from wearing a rut in the cobblestones.

Turning to face the hail, Tonks responded, "Oh, wotcher, Clementine." She stood to the side of the road as her friend hurried to catch up. "I haven't seen you for donkey's years. Up to something dodgy?"

"Wotcher, Tonks," echoed Clementine. "Better to be doing something dodgy than to bimble about the alley looking down in the mouth."

“Me?” Tonks said, using her shapeshifting powers to grow her lips into a ridiculous smile. “Down in the mouth? Never.”

“Go on, pull the other one,” Clementine scoffed. “Don’t act like I can’t tell you’re needing a friend right now.”

“Really, I’m chipper and all that,” Tonks protested.

“Bollocks,” Clementine snorted. “I haven’t seen you that downtrodden since you broke it off with Charlie.”

Tonks’ comically large lips fell into a frown. “Leave off, Clem. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Have it your way. But, you’re coming with me.”

“Oh? And where are we going?”

“We’re going to meet up with my boyfriend.” Clementine practically bounced with glee at the declaration.

“Sounds like you don’t need me to tag along and ruin the mood.”

“Nonsense, Jason wants to introduce me to his best mate. It’s only fair that I bring one of my own along.” Clementine grabbed Tonks’ hand and started to drag her along. “We’re going to see a movie.”

“You always did love Muggle Studies." Her eyes narrowed, "He's not a muggle, is he?”

Shaking her head, Clementine responded, "No, he's a squib who needed help finding his way in here."

As Tonks let her friend lead her from the alley, she giggled. "That's a relief. You can't imagine what the Ministry would do to a mixed couple."
> Chapter 55: Cultural Exchange
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan Granger could scarcely believe that he was witnessing unadulterated happiness. Laughter filled the air along with the tantalizing aromas of foods of celebration. It seemed that everywhere he looked, he found genuine smiles.

He still could not reconcile how a child's party could serve as the backdrop for one suited for adults. While the adults could not match the sheer joy that the children were exuding, they were all wondering what they had to do to secure a return invitation. Dan was positive that the purple mare sporting a picture of a strawberry and a bunch of grapes on her flanks had spiked one of the punchbowls. The pink hostess had unerringly switched cups with any of the younger crowd who attempted to sample from that bowl.

It boggled the mind that the creatures who seemed to be living versions of a little girl's dream could throw a cocktail party that put every one he had attended to shame. Thinking of them as rational adults, rather than the colorful toys they resembled, was almost more shocking than the way his daughter stuck out like a traffic cone in a sea of colorful bodies. After talking with them, however, he had no doubt they were people in their own right.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he watched his luminescent daughter mingle with the other colts and fillies. Although she was very obviously different than the other children, nopony seemed to care. After she had been shunned by her peers in primary school, Dan had feared the worst when she had transferred to the wizarding school.

To be blunt, after the years she had spent as a pariah, Dan had been shocked when Hermione had introduced him to her new friends. Unsurprisingly, his first impressions had been correct; the three bright-haired girls were foreigners. What had him completely flummoxed was how foreign they turned out to be. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that they were not human. This put his transfiguration into a unicorn in a completely different light. He wasn't adding human intelligence to a dumb animal; he was becoming the person he would have been if he had been born here.

With that epiphany, his initial awkwardness had evaporated. He could see that the similarities were so strong that he could ignore the obvious differences. The same could not be said about the mother of the pink pegasus boy as she held his forearm in an iron grip. Beset by the mysteries of the wizarding world while being forced to acknowledge a completely alien race, she clung to the only sane man she could identify, a non-magical parent like herself.

His wife Emma was not jealous in the least. She had sauntered off with a blue unicorn who was apparently the town's dentist, talking shop. Not wishing to be reminded of his work, Dan and his shadow wandered around, introducing themselves to the colorful inhabitants.





As she lay spent, sprawled on the fluffy white cloud, the orange pegasus filly ignored the long skid mark left by her graceless landing. Fatigue had never felt so satisfying. She had given everything she had to try matching her idol. She was by no means out of shape, but it took a special pony to even come close to pacing the fastest pegasus in Equestria. She still had a long way to go to even qualify for the same league as the Wonderbolt hopeful.

Her idol touched down beside her with surprising gentleness. Playfully, Rainbow Dash asked as she stroked the filly's purple mane, "So, would you rather take the room above the kitchen or the one across from mine?"

"You're giving me a room?" Scootaloo's grin would have made Pinkie Pie proud. "Does that mean I'll be able to visit more often? Just like sisters?"

With a grim expression, Rainbow Dash shook her head. In a serious tone, she replied, "No. You can't visit my house anymore. I don't want you as my sister."

“What?!” Scootaloo wailed, tears already welling in her eyes.

“It's now our house. You'll be living there from now on.” Rainbow smirked. “You can't call that visiting.”

“What?” Scootaloo whispered.

Rainbow Dash sat on the cloud and said in a tone she had never taken before in her entire life. “Scootaloo, I've started the paperwork. If it's all right with you, I'm going to adopt you. I want you to be my daughter. We're going to be a family.”

Family. That was something for other fillies. Future Scootaloo would know its joys; she was already in a herd with a couple of fillies she knew would be her lifemates. Her new classmates had added to that number, ensuring that more love was to follow. Past Scootaloo had been in a much lonelier place. Every night after their adventures, the other fillies would go home to their families while she had to return to the place where unwanted fillies lived. 

Present Scootaloo fantasized about having what a normal filly would. She dreamed her mother and father had simply lost their way and were now coming to collect her. She dreamed a long-lost cousin had discovered her by chance and would take her in. She dreamed that Rainbow Dash was really her older sister. She dreamed of belonging. She dreamed of family.

She dreamed.

With a strangled cry, she launched her no longer tired body from the cloud and latched her limbs around Rainbow Dash.

She wanted to tell Rainbow how happy she was. She wanted to tell Rainbow that yes, she wanted that more than anything else in the entire world. She wanted to tell Rainbow how much she loved her.

Instead, there were only sobs as Scootaloo once more followed Rainbow Dash's lead.





“Twilight, we need yer help.”

Twilight looked down and saw Apple Bloom and Dean looking up at her with wide eyes. Fillies of all colors and races tried to unobtrusively crowd around Dean. No good could possibly come from that. “Is something wrong?” she asked warily. “Do we need to evacuate the bakery?”

“What?” Apple Bloom looked around, bemused. “No, Ah gave Dean's sisters a ring each an' they don't seem to be working. We were hoping you'd be able to fix them.”

“Discord's rings are malfunctioning?” Twilight looked over to see the two human fillies playing with a new pegasus filly.

“They worked jus' fine fer Amy,” Apple Bloom said. “Nuthin' fer Rosie nor Eva.”

“They can't do magic,” Dean said sadly. “They might not be able to change.”

“Nonsense,” Twilight said, trotting over to investigate. “Everycreature has magic. Some just need help finding it for the first time.” She was rewarded with the two remaining human fillies looking at her hopefully.

“Thank you for helping,” Dean said.

Twilight lit up her horn before saying, “Go ahead and try to change for me.”

Rosie scrunched her face in concentration as Eva closed her eyes and grunted.

“I see,” Twilight said. “There is some blockage, but nothing that can't be cleaned out by letting the background magic flow freely.” Her horn flared. “And all fixed; go ahead and give the rings another try.”

In the blink of an eye, there were three pegasus fillies where there had only been one.

“Why am I not pink?” Rosie whined. “I wanted to be pink like my brother.”

“Fuchsia!”

“That reminds me.” Twilight said. “I need to speak to a nurse about casting that color changing spell, it might work.”

“You can make me not pin . . . fuchsia?” Dean gave his undivided attention while the fillies who had crowded around him pouted.

“We'll see,” Twilight said. “But don't get your hopes up.”

“Yeah!” Dean surged into the air and pumped a forehoof.

“Why do they never listen?” Twilight sighed.





Percy found himself in an awkward position. Magah, unsettled by all of the strange ponies milling around was doing her best to get as close to the prefect as physically possible. Ironically, in her attempts to assuage her anxiety, she now looked as though she had claimed Percy as her foal, protectively penning him in with her long legs.

“Wow,” he heard a female voice filled with hostility say. “You sure are possessive. Why don't you let your coltfriend out to enjoy the party?”

Peeking around one leg he saw three ponies about his age staring daggers at Magah. He felt his cover shiver in response to the aggressive atmosphere.

“Um, ladies?” Percy desperately attempted to explain. “There's no need for that.”

“Yes, there is.” The yellow mare insisted moving forward to go muzzle to muzzle with Magah. “I hate mares like you. Treating poor colts like a possession instead of a pony. Are you afraid he's going to find somepony who will treat him right? Don't think that just because your bigger I'm afraid of you.”

“Ladies!” Percy tried again as Magah started to tremble violently. “You're scaring her.”

“Bristle,” the tan mare said in a soothing voice. “Something's wrong here. She's reacting like a foal. She may not be all there.”

A placid tenor said, “Is something the matter?” Percy was relieved to see that his father had come over and was now petting Magah's neck in an effort to calm her down.

The three mares looked up at the redheaded human before the tan mare said, “We're not sure. It looked like this colt was being abused, but now I'm not so sure.”

“I see,” Arthur said as Magah responded to his reassurance. “I'm sorry, but the situation is not what is seems. You see, Magah here is not the same species as you.”

“We can see that,” Bristle said. “She must have Saddle Arabian blood to be that big.”

“No, I meant she comes from our homeland,” Arthur said. “She is not a sapient being. She is a creature.”

“That's rude.” the remaining mare, a rusty red, said crossly. “You shouldn't say such things about a disabled pony.”

A chuckle was heard from behind the gathered mares as the rest of the party goers started to pay attention to the confrontation. “That is an admirable attitude,” Xenophilius said joining the conversation. “Sadly, it is misplaced in this instance. Imagine, if you will, taking your dog to a world inhabited by intelligent talking canines. How do you think it would be best to explain your pet to the inhabitants?”

Percy looked out from under Magah and said to his sire, “You got over here quickly; thank you, Father.”

It was Arthur turn to chuckle. “This misunderstanding was just waiting to happen. We've been keeping an eye on you.”

The tan mare looked from the large unicorn to the human petting it and said. “You're telling us that this is your pet dog?”

“Technically, she is Sweetie Belle's dog, but otherwise, yes,” Percy answered.

“There are just so many things wrong with that statement,” Bristle said, still eyeing the large mare.

“We are talking about Crusaders here,” the rust red mare said. “We should count ourselves lucky if she doesn't spontaneously explode.”

“I heard about the nitroglycerin incident,” Percy said. “Was it really that bad?”

The tan mare sighed. “Have you ever tried getting the smell of hydra guts out of your mane?”

“Wait a minute,” Bristle said. “She is definitely not your marefriend then.”

“No, I'm just looking after her for Sweetie,” Percy said.

“So,” the rust red mare said with a predatory grin, “that makes you fair game.”

“What?” Percy's ears swiveled forward uncontrollably.

“You're on your own for this one,” Arthur said, leading Magah away.





The only constant in Harry's life was change. Since leaving the Dursleys, it seemed that everything that happened was a new experience. He should have known better to think that there was now nothing that could surprise him. To be fair, the latest incident was not nearly as alien as the other changes. After all, Uncle Vernon had carried him by his shirt collar on more than one occasion. He remembered each one in painful detail, no matter how hard he tried to forget.

Rarity had not seemed upset when she had interrupted the game, asking to borrow Harry for a few minutes. He had expected to tag along behind the mare. He was, however, not prepared for her to pick him up . . . by the scruff of his neck . . . with her mouth. He was thankful for the distraction that Sweetie Belle and Ginny provided by flanking him as they waded across the floor.

He never would have expected someone of Rarity's bearing to speak with her mouth full, let alone while clamped down on a mouthful of his neck, but, somehow, she managed to say, "Come along Harry. There is somepony to whom I absolutely must introduce you."

Harry did not respond, lest any reaction trigger the excruciating pain his human form would feel in that situation. It helped a little to imagine that he was a kitten in his mother's mouth.

Quickly, the small group traversed the party proper, and Harry could see that they were homing in on wizarding couple deep in a conversation with a unicorn and an earth pony. 

The unicorn was so immersed in her data collection that she was unaware of their approach. By contrast, the earth pony noticed them almost immediately and sent a welcoming smile. “Rarity.” She nodded briefly. “Foals.”

“Ah Bon Bon, darling,” Rarity greeted in return, setting Harry on the floor. “I was hoping to steal a little time from you and Lyra. Hello to you as well.” She gave the two humans a polite smile, daintily holding out a forehoof.

“Rarity!” Lyra's enthusiasm had been dialed up past eleven and was threatening to hit fourteen or fifteen. “You have to meet Mrs. and Mr. Patil! They are the parents of the twin pegasus fillies who are actually humans.”

Harry watched Parvati's parents offer Rarity a polite greeting before Mr. Patil said, "I can see by your dramatic entrance that you have urgent business to conduct with Miss Heartstrings. We have no intention of intruding on your private business, so we shall take our leave." With those words, he led his wife away. The strength of their slipstream left no doubt as to the twins' pegasus heritage.

“Bye, I'll catch up with you later.” Lyra waved enthusiastically in a manner only somepony acquainted with Pinkie Pie would have dreamed possible.

"Ahem," said Rarity with polite firmness. Lyra turned her attention back to the white unicorn. Rarity continued, "Lyra, the time has come to introduce you to Harry Potter." Gesturing, she said, "Lyra Heartstrings, this is Harry Potter." She then turned to Harry and said, "Harry Potter, this is Lyra Heartstrings. She and Bon Bon shall be your guardians from now on."

Abruptly, the two mares in question dropped their gazes and scrutinized the colt accompanying Rarity. Bon Bon found her voice first. "Hi, Harry Potter. Lyra and I have been looking forward to meeting you and adding you to our family. I promise, you'll love it here." The confectioner tore her attention away from the colt and hissed, "Lyra! Stop that! You're scaring the colt."

Lyra had approached the colt during Bon Bon's greeting, and she was now examining him from every angle with her muzzle as close as it could get without touching. Trembling slightly, Harry did his best to hold still, turning only his head to witness the uncomfortable inquisition. Ginny took a step forward to intervene, but Rarity placed a restraining hoof on her withers.

Abruptly, Lyra stopped, scowling as she stepped back, face to face with the colt. She rose to her full height and held her head proudly. She stood like a statue as a corona illuminated her horn. Tears began to trickle from her eyes. Just as suddenly, she slumped down to her belly so that her eyes were at the same level as Harry's. Through soft sobs, she managed to choke out, "Harry Potter." Uncomfortable seconds passed before she could find her words. "I WILL keep you safe. Anypony, any creature that tries to harm you will have to go through ME first."

Bon Bon was aghast. She had never heard her partner sound so somber, so intense, so outraged. The ponies closest to the group all ceased their conversations as they, too, were affected by the power radiating from the mare none could recognize despite being familiar with the skin she was wearing.

Harry fidgeted under the intense stare, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you?” he ventured weakly.

Lyra reached out and brought the colt close to her barrel. Her voice was thick with emotion when she replied, “You don't have to thank me for giving you what you have always deserved. You only have to know that you are my foal and I am your mother.”

“No,” Bon Bon said, lying down next to Lyra. “You just need to know that we both are your mothers.”

Had they been on Earth, the room would have trembled at the power of the magic in those vows. In the magical land of Equestria, everypony instinctively recognized the power of those simple words. It was not only those who carried the next generation in their wombs who could rightfully claim the most sacred of bonds.

Somewhere, Lily Evans smiled.





“Twilight, y'all look a mite put out. Sumthin' yanking yer tail?”

“Huh, no I'm just enjoying the party.”

There was a raised eyebrow at the blatant misuse of the term.

“You know, that's just not fair.”

“Maybe, but it sure comes in handy. Now, spill. Why do y'all look like a hog who lost his last ear of corn?”

“She's just being mope, mope, mopey because I couldn't get Sirius Black his invitation.”

“I am not being mopey.”

Another raised eyebrow met this response.

“Okay, maybe just a little . . . and that's still not fair.”

“Ah guess Ah kin relate. Ah met an interesting human stallion today.”

“Really, darling? Which one?” A hoof waved at the party in progress.

“He ain't here right now. It happened when y'all sent me to have a talk about that thar letter.”

“Iiiiiiiinteresting. Should I invite him to the next party? Are you going to go all mopey if I don't?”

“I am not being mopey.”

Another eyebrow rose. “Nah, Ah ain't thinkin' of him like that. Ah was referring to to how interesting they are.”

“The way you spoke left the impression that you were amendable to a rendez-vous amoureux.”

A snort sounded, “Not hardly. Ah don't have the time.”

“That wasn't a denial, darling.”

“Anyhow, getting back on subject, human stallions sure act weird.”

“How so?” Moping took a backseat to acquiring new information.

“I think we're missing the original subject. Weren't we talking about how you and Twilight want to party with human stallions.”

“Here now, thar plenty of human stallions at this party. Ah have no idea what yer talking about.”

A pink mane swished, “You totally missed the metaphor.”

“Say what now?”

“Pinkie, darling, I think the word you were looking for was 'innuendo'.”

“Technically, innuendos are metaphors.”

“You're still changing the subject.” A frustrated bounce emphasized the words. “Do you or don't you want to party with the stallion you met today?”

“Ah . . . Ah was just remarkin' on how, if'n you show them yer udders they act like they happened upon a cockatrice.”

“Really? How remarkable. I shall have to remember that for the next time I catch up with Dumbledore. If human mares can paralyze using their udders, it's too much of a benefit not to exploit.”

“Are you sure?” A lavender hoof pointed at the mingling humans. “I don't see any signs of that happening here.”

“Trust me, it works. Jus' remember, putting on a shirt mutes the effect.”

“Hmmm, I wonder if channeling magic in that area would multiply the effectiveness.”

“Can we stop talking about natural defenses for human mares. I want to know. To party or not to party? That is the question.”

“Don't get yer tail all in a knot. Ah just went there an found out that he wants Rarity to patronize an assistant for him so that he can keep a better eye on Sweetie Belle in potions class.”

“He wants Rarity to make condescending comments at his assistant? How would that help Sweetie make potions?”

“No, darling, that word also means financially supporting the arts or, in this case, a teaching assistant.”

“Ah told him we'd be all in for three or four, seeing how we're familiar with Sweetie's attempts at cooking.”

“What does that have to do with anything? They just have to keep her out of the kitchen. Even I know not to let her help me make cupcakes.”

“Y'all can think of making potions as cooking with magic.”

“Oh, in that case you'd better make it nine or ten.”

“Wait a minute, are you telling me that the potions teacher is looking for a teacher's assistant that he's going to mentor in advanced potions?”

“Eyup.”

“Did he say he had somepony in mind?”

“Enope.”

“This is too good of an opportunity to pass up. Spike! Take a letter!”

“ . . . Hey! You can't be serious! Come back here! You still haven't answered the question!”





The party was not like any he had attended in the past. There was a distinct lack of social climbing. The barbs of sharp words, the pretty poison of unprovable slander, the merciless trampling of reputations, all the trappings of high society were absent. Instead, the ponies, young and old alike, laughed and enjoyed themselves. It was almost as though status had no meaning in this place of happiness.

He could not help but wonder about the size of the army of house elves who had prepared the party. While some of the food was unfamiliar, it all tickled his palate like nothing at home ever had. He barely noticed that there was no fish or flesh or fowl.

For the first time in a long time, he did not have to watch his back. The games here did not involve daggers of either the physical or verbal variety. Instead, they promoted good natured competition and cooperation. Years of indoctrination faded as he found himself actually socializing with the much-hated Gryffindors.

Any worries about fitting in with the aliens were quickly quashed. He was constantly escorted with either Diamond Tiara or Silver Spoon pressed against his side. He could not help but notice how they beamed when they introduced him to the other small ponies. The sincere congratulations they received buoyed both their spirits and his. He had no doubt that everyone in the room knew that they had claimed him.

In spite of himself, Draco was loving his time here, even though he was now a little horse.





It wasn't clear exactly which pony let out the first cry. It did, however give the party a dramatic twist. “Who let Sweetie Belle in the kitchen!”

"We're doomed, I tell you. Doomed!"

“Oh, the horror! The horror!”

The tinkle of smashed glass was followed by an artificially calm voice repeating, "Code Black . . . Code Black . . . Code Black . . ."

“Parvati! Grab Neville!” Apple Bloom yelled, seizing Ron's tail in her mouth. “Hermione get Seamus! Lavender on Dean!” Seeing that Lyra had already snatched up Harry, the smallest Apple then proceeded to join the mob exiting the bakery, dragging Ron behind her. 

“Sweeeeetieeee! Noooo!” Rarity wailed, making a beeline for the backroom, followed closely by Twilight and a frantic Pinkie.

“Get the children out! Get the children out!” Cheerilee commanded before putting words to action by snagging Snips and launching herself out the hole that had once held the front window.

Despite the ensuing chaos, the business had been evacuated in record time as the adult ponies formed a shrinking cordon to ensure that any stragglers were in front of them. The ponies waited a safe distance away, bracing for the spectacle that was to come while the human visitors looked on in confusion. Several tense minutes passed before the automated voice was silenced. The muffled sounds of a surge of rushing water could be heard. Twilight stepped through the empty window frame and addressed the crowd. "False alarm, everypony. She was just using the restroom in the back. Apparently, the line for the ones up front were too long."

An audible sigh washed over Twilight.

Twilight's horn lit up and the shards of Sugarcube Corner's display window levitated themselves back into their original positions, fusing with their neighbors as they went. “It's safe; you can come back in now.”

“Does this happen often?” Apple Bloom heard Lavender ask from somewhere up above her.

“Huh?” Apple Bloom gasped, looking toward the voice, her eyes going wide when she saw the filly.

“What?” Lavender asked in response to the look. “You told me to get on Dean.”





Celestia smiled benevolently from her throne. Before her, seven young mares stood in attendance, while behind her a large owl wearing a satchel perched. “Please remember, the potions master has yet to officially announce that he is looking for an apprentice. So, be very polite. Remind him that the crown will be paying for all expenses. The potential value of obtaining this education cannot be understated. With that in mind, you each must try your best to secure this opportunity.”

The gathered ponies all indicated their agreement with an array of nods.

“Now, after a day of talking to Professor McGonagall, I am familiar enough with their species to cast a spell temporarily granting you their form. If you succeed in obtaining this employment, I will ask Discord to provide you with one of his rings for a more permanent solution.”

This was met with more nodding.

“Go make me proud, my little ponies,” Celestia said as she lit her horn.





Professor Flitwick was traversing the halls when the owl found him and perched on a disgruntled suit of armor. Recognizing the bird, he said. “You don't care much about things like closed windows and doors do you?”

“Hoo.”

“Well, I suppose you've got visitors in that bag of yours. Some more students by chance?”

“Hoo.”

“Hopefully, this time they are sorted into Ravenclaw.” Flitwick said as the students in the hallway stopped to watch the exchange. Reaching up, the small professor tapped the pouch with his wand and said, "Ex dimittere." Belatedly, he realized he should be doing this in the privacy of his office or the teachers' lounge.

“Hello there,” he said once the bag had emptied its contents. “You appear to be too old to be new students. How may I help you?”

“Hello,” one of the young women said, “my name is Raspberry Crunch. My friends and I have a proposition for Professor Snape. We were hoping we could secure a position under him.”

The Hogwarts students had begun staring as soon as the first woman had exited the bag like Venus rising from the sea. One of the Hufflepuff girls snarled. “Of course, we can all see your qualifications.”

“None of that now,” Professor Flitwick said, swishing his wand, providing the wardrobe the women had completely neglected. Content with the results, he addressed the woman who spoke. “If you follow me, I'll be glad to show you to his chambers.”

“His office!” another Hufflepuff girl insisted. “They only need to see his office!”

As Flitwick led the newest visitors away, he heard one of the Weasley twins say. “He's got to have invented a new potion.”

The other twin replied with. “Too true, brother mine; there is no other rational explanation.”
> Chapter 56: All Good Things . . .
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the sanctuary that was his office, Professor Severus Snape wore a frown worthy of a true occlumens. Only the most empathic of observers would have even the slightest hint of the turmoil he felt as he double-checked the letter he had just finished composing. This was a day he had thought would be far in the future, but for the sake of his sanity, not to mention the safety of his school, he had to act now.

It was time for him to take on an apprentice. That was supposed to be a task for a master Dumbledore's age, not a job for a wizard in his prime. It was supposed to be the last meaningful act of a master in any field to pass all his knowledge along to the most promising of the next generation to build the foundation to advance the art, to find someone who could be trusted to carry on his vision.

From what he had seen of the current pool of candidates, this task was a sure path to bleeding ulcers, or, if he were lucky, an early grave. He would be committing to teach someone who had delusions of competence. He would be responsible for ensuring that they would be worthy of the title Master of Potions. The mere thought of the ensuing stress was almost enough to make him reconsider his offer. If the specter of Sweetie Belle's unintended discoveries were not threatening to again stab him in the back, he would have burned the letter and been done with it.

Had this been an ordinary solicitation, he could have taken solace in the respite the process would grant; normally, it would take one month for the first response to arrive. He would have one month to organize his lesson plan. He would have one month to redistribute his workload. He would have one month of relative peace to prepare himself for the rigors of training a high-level student. He would have one month of dealing with the untold abominations that Sweetie Belle was sure to brew if left unsupervised. It would be best if he could have the apprentice now, but that would take a miracle, and any occlumens knew better than to count on those.

A patient knock on the door startled him into coating the entire envelope with sealing wax. With well-concealed irritation, he stalked across the room. As he wrenched the door open, he snarled, "This had better be important."

“Did we come at a bad time?” Professor Flitwick asked mildly, drawing Snape’s attention downward for a second before it rose again to the young women standing a few steps back.

The vibrant hair colors that his unexpected visitors sported were the first thing that the head of Slytherin House noticed. It did not take a fertile imagination for him to divine the nature of the intrusion. “I see,” he drawled. “Am I to understand that you were sent by Applejack?”

The closest woman, a spindly young thing with dark red hair, awkwardly dropped forward into what looked like a variation on a sprinter's starting position. However, with elbows bent, the woman was clearly taking a deferential attitude. Snape interpreted it as some form of curtsey, despite the fact that her posterior was sticking up in what looked like an absurd salute.

Looking up from the awkward position, the woman said, "Yes, sir. The Bearer of Honesty relayed your request to the Bearer of Generosity. The Bearer of Magic informed Princess Celestia, and her highness selected us in hopes that you would consider us for the position."

“I assume you all have experience brewing?” Snape stared into the eyes of the lead woman, resisting the urge to examine her other attributes.

“We all recently graduated magna cum laude from Celestia’s school,” the redhead returned. “Mint Roots was the best of our class at potions, but she isn’t currently in Canterlot.”

Professor Snape sighed and closed his eyes as he massaged the bridge of his nose. These children would not have learned standard potion making, at least not standard as far as wizards were concerned. They would probably be as much trouble to teach as the less-qualified students he was now forced to take on for his N.E.W.T. classes. Still, he couldn’t risk insulting his patron.

“I should also mention,” the redhead said, her rear still comically in the air, “Princess Celestia would not be opposed to you taking more apprentices in addition to any of us you choose. The crown will pay all expenses for them as well.”

Professor Snape’s eyes snapped open and he fixed each woman in turn with his black eyes. “I shall not abide slackers. I expect nothing less than perfection.”

One of the women, with pale blue hair sporting an even paler stripe, sniffed and looked down her nose at the taller Professor. “We earned our way to the top of our class with our sweat and tears. Princess Celestia herself set us on this task. We shall not disappoint.”

Black eyes once again sought her out. Slowly, she wilted under the attention, lowering both her eyes and her nose. “You had better hope that is the case,” Professor Snape sneered. “Do not think I will not send you home with your tail between your legs if you do.”

As one, the women gulped, not one daring to speak up.

“Very well, you have one week to impress me. After classes, your skills shall be assessed. It will give me the opportunity to see where our knowledge overlaps and where you may be lacking,” Professor Snape announced. “With luck, one or two of you might have the potential to master the art of potion making.”

The assembled women continued to stare back at him with palpable fear as they all joined their leader in the curtsey. Snape could not help but think that they were fourteen shy of a twenty-one bum salute.





Emma Granger traversed the significantly less crowded floor, homing in on her husband. She looked down at his cross-legged form and said, “I see you have an admirer.”

Dan sighed and looked at the snoring purple mare. “She climbed into my lap without so much as a ‘by your leave’. I’d wager she’s had a touch too much to drink.”

“Should I be jealous? She’s claimed my spot,” Emma said with a smile.

With a snicker, Dan motioned for Emma to take a seat next to him. “I see you have an admirer of your own.”

Emma looked over her shoulder, glancing at Magah before sitting next to her spouse. “She’s been following me for a while now. I think the talking ponies are unnerving her.”

“The poor thing,” Dan said, running his hand through the mane of the mare in his lap.

“So, where is your other shadow?” Emma asked, leaning into Dan. “She looked as stressed as Magah does.”

“She went off to talk to her son and gather her daughters for the trip home,” Dan answered.

“Mum!” Emma found her own lap filled with a fluorescent orange filly.

“Hermione,” Emma said, petting her daughter, “I hope you had fun today.”

“Loads and loads,” Hermione confirmed. “Look! Apple Bloom gave me a couple rings for you and Daddy.”

“That was thoughtful of her,” Emma said, retrieving the rings from Hermione’s mouth.

“She knows how happy the necklaces make you,” Hermione confided. The filly turned toward the sound of heavy hoofbeats as Apple Bloom’s brother trotted over to their group. “Hello.” She waved a hoof at him.

He smiled and nodded at Hermione and her parents before concentrating on Magah. “Ma’am,” he greeted.

Magah glared at him.

“Um,” Hermione said. “Mr. Apple Bloom’s brother . . .” She was surprised when Emma put a silencing hand over her muzzle.

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier.”

Magah continued to glare at him.

“I realize you were protecting Apple Bloom.”

Magah glared some more.

Big Mac let his ears droop and lowered his head in shame. “Ah’m sorry.”

Magah snorted.

Big Mac peered up and prepared to be berated.

Magah glared at him.

Big Mac patiently waited for the mare to say something.

Magah persisted with her glare.

Big Mac took a weary step back.

Magah let her glare linger.

A green stallion sauntered up and said, “What’s the matter Big Mac? Find somepony who talks less than you?”

Hermione reached up with her hooves to remove Emma’s hand. “Mum, we really should tell him.”

“I promised Applejack and Pinkie that we’d let him work it out for himself,” Emma said.

Turning an ear to listen to the humans, Big Mac raised his head and tried again. “No hard feelings?”

Magah’s glare continued to bore a hole through the stallion.

Big Mac looked to his left and saw Pinkie, Applejack and Rarity watching. They all had wide grins and Rarity waved an encouraging hoof at him. Something wasn’t right here.

Magah’s glare remained.

“Uh, I’ll be going now.” Big Mac took another step back before whirling around and hurrying away.

The tension of the moment evaporated as Pinkie and Applejack dropped to the ground, howling with laughter.

“That was cruel,” Hermione noted.





She reached out with a pink hoof to stroke the collection flask. It sat on a table with two matching brothers, all three filled with a glowing pink liquid, all three filled with life.

A courier had brought them no less than ten minutes past. Filled in less than a day, they represented so much. Could they be the future? Should she call off the invasion? It had never been anything but an act of desperation, intruding on the territory of another.

In the end, it was a fool’s choice. Why fight when another route had presented itself? What could be better than food freely given for nothing more than being a friend?

It was time to revise her plans. Opportunity was knocking, and she was no fool.





Twilight was in a corner, talking quietly with Arthur Weasley, Xenophilius Lovegood, and Professor McGonagall, when the owl arrived and went straight to Applejack. She watched the farm mare retrieve a letter and offer the bird a treat. Once the owl was a cared for, Applejack read the letter before making a beeline for Twilight.

“Twilight!” Applejack said. “The princess took yer suggestion and galloped with it.”

“That’s wonderful.” Twilight broke into a wide grin.

The three humans looked on curiously but refrained from commenting.

“This here is a letter from Professor Snape. He got seven apprentices owled to him an’ he sends his thanks fer the prompt-like response.”

“I am so jealous.” Twilight started trotting in place. “Imagine. Studying under a master in a strange new land.”

“Seven apprentices?” Professor McGonagall said. “That is rather ambitious of him.”

“So, there will be more ponies at Hogwarts,” Xenophilius mused.

“The exchange of knowledge will advance the quality of life for both ponies and humans.” Twilight nodded her head enthusiastically. “The potential benefits are beyond imagination. This is big! Big, I tell you!”

“Big enough to justify having some of our own students apprentice with your masters as well?” Xenophilius asked.

Twilight froze midtrot as the implications hit her. With gazelle-like grace, she began pronking in a circle around her group. "Yes!" she cried as enthusiasm lofted just shy of the rafters. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! . . ."

Applejack interjected, "Twilight? Are y'all right, sugarcube?"

Twilight reddened as she froze at the apex of her leap before lightly touching down. Although she tried to compose herself, she was still quivering with so much excitement that her form was a blur. In a husky voice, she said, "I'll send Princess Celestia a letter. I'm sure she will start making preparations right away."

“Well, Arthur,” Xenophilius said, “I think it’s safe to say that you have just become the head of the Ministry's Department of Interdimensional Affairs.”





The melodic jingle of the bell above the door announced the arrival of the last Crusader and her guardian. An orange blur zipped past Rainbow Dash and circled the ceiling before streaking down to her herdmates. "Guys! Guys!" she called out as she dove.

“Scootaloo, welcome baaaaaaaaa!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed before being tackle hugged by the orange missile.

“Rainbow Dash is adopting me!” Scootaloo declared with her forehooves full of unicorn filly.

“That’s wonderful!” the gathered foals, both human and pony, all exclaimed.

“That’s worth missing even a Pinkie Pie party for!” Button Mash noted.

Lavender cantered over and hugged Scootaloo from behind. “Congratulations!” she said warmly.

The hug pile continued to grow as the enthusiasm infected the foals and they rushed to share in the joy.





Filius Flitwick was reading in his office when a familiar owl once again entered from an orthogonal dimension. “I don’t suppose you brought me students for Ravenclaw this time,” he said, looking up from his book. “I’m starting to feel a little left out here.”

“Hoo.” The owl shook its head.

“Oh well. Ex dimittere,” Filius said, brandishing his wand. Soon, he was rewarded with a jumble of gaily-colored pony foals accompanied by a cat.

The cat untangled herself from the rest and transformed. “Hello, Filius. Thank you for the assistance.”

“Hello, Minerva.” Filius watched the sluggish little ponies find their hooves. He noted several unfamiliar faces among the equines. “Collecting yet more new students?”

“I’m afraid not,” Minerva said. “These are all current students.”

“Hello, Professor Flitwick,” the ponies all chorused as they half-heartedly waved their forehooves.

“I see Miss Granger wasn’t the only one to receive a ring then,” Filius commented.

“It is safe to say that the entire first-year Gryffindor class will probably be skipping dinner tonight,” Minerva said as the ponies started to take human form.

“May I please change in your bathroom?” the remaining yellow unicorn asked.





In a nondescript house in a quiet East London neighborhood, a man capped off his celebration of fatherhood with his favorite program on the telly and a pint of his favorite brew. Yanks be damned, he was going to enjoy his beverage at the proper temperature, not so cold as to mask the toasty sweetness of malt or the citrusy bitterness of hops, but not so warm as to suck all of the refreshment out of the drink. He had been the perfect parent, taking some of the neighborhood boys to football practice and encouraging them to do their best. The only thing that would have made it better would have been his son's presence. Technically, Dean was his stepson, but the man did not care about technicalities. In every way that mattered, Dean was his son, and while he knew that sending the lad off to that boarding school was the right thing to do, the man regretted that the right thing meant forsaking much-coveted father-son bonding.

Upon hearing the front door open he called out, “Is that you dear?”

“Yes, we’re home,” called his wife. A split-second later, she exclaimed, “Rosie! Get down from there! You’re getting muddy hoofprints all over my white ceiling!”

“Sorry, mum!”

As he beheld the impossible, the man choked on his mouthful of beer.





The end of the party was punctuated by the loud crash that announced the transformation of a significant portion of the east wall of Sugarcube Corner into a cloud of shrapnel. The new parents who stood in front of the new egress were a study in contrasts as Bon Bon fumed with ill-concealed rage while Lyra looked on with somber acceptance. Everyone else watched as the earth pony fought to keep her temper in check as she marched toward the Bearer of Magic.

The floor trembled with each step as each hoofbeat sounded like a bass drum. There was no doubt she was every bit as much an earth pony as any member of the Apple family. Bon Bon spoke in a deceptively calm voice that would have frozen a wendigo solid. "Twilight, I need transportation." She stamped a forehoof, making the floor ripple as if it were the surface of a pond. "Now."

“What?” Twilight gaped.

“Dursleys.” Somehow, Bon Bon managed to make the word rhyme with "walking dead ponies". Zecora would have been impressed.

“Oh,” Twilight said. “They’re just pawns. The one you want is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”

“Explain,” Bon Bon coldly demanded.

“He used magic to change the Dursley’s behavior,” Rarity said as she calmly and clearly walked to Bon Bon's side, carefully staying out of bucking range.

“That name is much too long,” Lyra said. “I’m just going to refer to him as 'nitrohumus'.”

“Anyway,” Pinkie said, “Princess Luna is being selfish and is taking up every night with her turn.”

“Though, I do have to admit that making Nitro Humus experience everything he made Harry Potter suffer through is a good start,” Twilight finished for the pink mare.

“That is an acceptable way to pass the night,” Lyra said.

"Princess Luna may have the dream cycle covered," said Bon Bon, "but the days should belong to us. We should relieve him of any non-essential bodily functions."

“The mare has a point,” Pinkie said.

“A good point,” Twilight agreed. “Rarity may I borrow Frank? I have just the charm to make sure he stays nice and hard for the entire experience.”

"I'm sorry, darling, but I had planned on some quality time with him. He even has extra studs now."

“You already had your turn,” Pinkie objected. "A mare has needs!"

“Excuse me!” Cheerilee broke into the conversation. “Not in front of the children.” She pointed at the remaining fillies and colts watching the drama with wide eyes. “Take it outside.”

A guilty silence followed.





Far to the north, under tons of ice and snow, beneath frozen dirt and frigid rock, a spell ran its course.

Gradually, consciousness returned.

After a millennium, evil began to awaken.
> Chapter 57: The Forgotten
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones found that there were some days when she absolutely hated her job. As the last line of defense against major magical threats, an auror's job was not an easy one. Their leader's was even more difficult. In addition to all of the casework, Amelia had to contend with the endless annoyance of politics both inside and outside her organization. The sea change within the Ministry had left her stuck in her office on what was to have been her day off. The status quo would have left her as happy as she could have been. Now, she found herself on the horns of a dilemma. Going strictly by the book, she would be forced to do something she knew to be wrong, all in the name of justice. Her frown deepened. Justice would not be served by what she was being forced to do.

With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the opened file folder on her desk. Her orders had been to interrogate all of the former Death Eaters who had been exonerated due to the Imperious Curse defense. Any found to have falsely claimed to have been under compulsion were to have their cases reopened and to be subjected to summary execution.

While the possessed doll incident had provided a welcomed, if painful, respite from dragnet, the last few days had sorely taxed her aurors. Bounty hunters had helpfully retrieved some that were beyond the Ministry's authority. Her senior personnel had a particularly difficult time as cross-examination of the prisoners forced them to relive viscerally disturbing memories of the war.

Corruption within the Ministry had been as widespread as she had feared. Without exception, the prisoners had paid their proverbial pieces of silver to tip the scales of justice in their favor. The hatred and bigotry they all had espoused had become more pronounced with each passing second from the defeat of their leader. There was no doubt that they all were deserving of the fate that awaited, all, except for one.

There was no question that his actions from his youth were inexcusable. He had taken parents from their children. He had taken children from their parents. Although he was a minor player in the grand scheme, his crimes were no less severe. Despite the recent rescue from the Reaper, there was no way anyone could restore what he had taken; for that reason, there was no statute of limitations on murder. The deaths of innocents demanded retribution.

What troubled Amelia was that the one was no longer the man he used to be. He was living proof of Dumbledore's contention that people could reform, given a second chance. The man had a muggle-born wife and young children. By all accounts, he loved them all dearly. By all accounts, he had truly repented. No Death Eater would have sullied his blood by consorting with anyone other than a pureblood.

There was no doubt the man would have to pay for his crimes. There was no doubt that innocents would suffer if the sentence were carried out. Amelia looked at the stack of death warrants that she had stamped. She looked again at the document in the folder. Indecisively, she held her stamp over the paper. Did the cries for justice outweigh the pleas for mercy?

On days like today, Amelia really hated her job.





When the first-year herd meandered into the Gryffindor common room, they found that it had again been expanded to accommodate the entirety of the Hufflepuff student body. They had invited themselves over to partake in watching the only telly in the school, absorbing the story as intently as their Gryffindor classmates.

Without taking his eyes off the screen, the seventh-year male prefect cast a quick ventriloquism charm. "We were beginning to wonder when you lot were going to turn up." He pointed to a sturdy box that was giving a steady series of thumps. With each impact, one of the sides bowed before repairing itself. "In the future, please don't leave your pet soap lying about the common room."

"Sorry," said Lavender as she retrieved her conscience. She followed the rest of the herd as they and the twins trudged to the base of the stairs to the girls' dorm.

Parvati motioned for the others to wait. "I'll go get my trunk. I am so ready for a nap."

“Good food will do that to you.” Scootaloo agreed with a wide yawn.

“By the way.” George asked. “Have you seen Percy?”

“We’ve been looking for him all afternoon.” Fred finished.

“Doh!” said several of the first years and Philomena started laughing.





The reception in the Slytherin common room was positively frigid when Diamond Tiara opened the door. She and her de facto herd faced a gantlet of books, quills, and scrolls. Pointing at Draco, one of the seventh-year students demanded, "What sort of Slytherin are you? You're the betrothed of the Primus. You're supposed to be looking out for her."

"Where have you been?" another seventh-year demanded. "We've got two weeks of material to cover, and we only have what's left of tonight to do it."

A third upper-year student chimed in, "There is no way we can let our Primus fall behind in her studies."

“We won’t let our Primus be anything less than the top of her year,” a fifth-year student added.

“You have an obligation to show the other houses Slytherin is clearly superior,” yet another upper year stated firmly.

“We are going to work with you until you have the material memorized and mastered,” a sixth-year added.

Many hands grabbed Draco as he tried to slip away. "You are going to help us!" the crowd proclaimed.

Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon looked at the unified front and sighed.





Bristle, a yellow earth pony mare, hesitantly leaned into him and asked hopefully, "Don't you find it romantic?"

From behind, a rust red pegasus mare who had introduced herself as Gracious Tact, added, "The colts here have named this place 'Lover's Leap'. It's the perfect place to take your special somepony."

Percy replied, "I'll take your word for it."

“It’s your word we’re interested in,” proclaimed the tan unicorn mare, Dainty Lace. She moved closer to lean firmly into Percy’s left side. “We’re showing you around Ponyville, after all. Don't you like what you see?”

“Errr,” Percy said as he started to feel like a slab of meat caught between two starving wolves. “It was really nice of you to give me this tour.”

“Our pleasure,” Bristle huskily assured him.

“Let’s go to our favorite glade inside the Whitetail Woods,” Gracious Tact suggested. “We can show you what it really means to be a stallion.”

“Errr,” Percy repeated when there was a ball of flame several meters in front of him. “Oh look! That’s my transportation. It must be time for me to go back and take care of my prefect duties. Sorry to cut this short, but I have a job to do. I’ll owl you. Goodbye!” he blurted as he took a flying leap off the cliff. Philomena gave an indignant squawk as he landed on her before she had a chance to orientate herself to her new surroundings.

The three mares were treated to the spectacle of another ball of flame before quiet ruled the nearly empty park.

“Darn!” Dainty Lace commented disappointedly with a gesture that looked remarkably like a human snapping their fingers. “We almost had him.”





In stately Black Manor, Sirius shared what was supposed to be quiet time with family and soon-to-be-family.

“Wait a minute.” Narcissa said, looking up from the book she was reading. “You said the owls who got past the wards flew in from nowhere?”

“Yes,” Sirius replied, not looking up from his own book.

“And one of them was wearing a satchel?” Narcissa prodded.

“Yes,” Sirius repeated with some irritation.

“Like the one who delivered Miss Sparkle to the meeting the other day?” Narcissa asked.

Sirius looked up from his tome with a look of dismay. “Doh!”

“Sirius, you are an idiot,” Narcissa informed her cousin.

“I’ll have you know I was concentrating on looking after my godson. I wasn’t paying attention to the owl.”

“An idiot,” Narcissa groused, closing her book. “A complete and utter idiot.”

Wisely exercising his mastery of language, Remus remained silent.





Mercilessly, Celestia brought the dawn of a new day to Ponyville. From her seat at the kitchen table, Twilight Sparkle wearily steadied the mug of coffee on the table in front of her with her forehooves as she slurped the energizing elixir. The enticing aromas of sliced tomatoes cooked with soy and barley sausage promised a hearty breakfast. Her number one assistant was clearly showing his worth. Wait a minute. If Spike was at the stove cooking breakfast, then who was sitting next to . . .

“I’m ready!” Lyra buoyantly announced, wearing a set of saddle bags and a vast grin.

Twilight looked at the mint mare with little comprehension. “Huh?”

“For our trip to the human world,” Lyra said, bouncing. “I can’t wait! Hurry up with your coffee, let’s go! We can eat breakfast there. I want to experience their cuisine.”

Twilight stared at Lyra dumbly, quite the accomplishment for such a smart mare.

“You said we were going to explore their world later this week. It’s Monday morning, so it’s later,” Lyra announced.

Without a word, Twilight turned to look at Spike, silently seeking succor.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Spike said, flipping eggs in the pan. “You’ve done the exact same thing to me more times than I care to remember.”





Monday morning was a special type of misery in the suburban house. The joy of the weekend had to be set aside for the drudgery of turning time into money. The only thing that made it remotely bearable was the blessing from the Altar of Morning, the extract of cinnamon roast beans, drowned in sugar and light cream.

The ritual to dispel the torment put husband and wife at the dining table with the offerings neatly arrayed between them. Aside from a brief benediction, little was said. For a couple this close, communication at this time was better served without clumsy words. Besides, since neither was a morning person, it let them extend the illusion that they did not yet need to face the day.

In the companionable silence, the flaps of muffled wings clearly announced the arrival of visitors.

“Good morning,” Emma said as two owls alit on the back of an empty dining room chair. “Looks like you’re just in time for some bacon.”

“I hope you brought apple turnovers,” Dan quipped, reaching for the letter the bag-wielding bird carried.

“Hoo.”

“Well this is a pretty pickle.” Dan said after reading the letter. “Says here, they want us to tap the bag with our wand and say some magic words. Pity we don’t have wands.”

“I’ll bet horns work,” Emma said, getting out of her chair and transforming.

“Worth a try,” Dan admitted as he watched his wife place her front hooves on the table so she could reach properly.

“What are the words?” the unicorn in the room asked.

“Ex dimittere,” Dan responded.

“Here goes,” Emma said as she stretched to place her horn on the owl’s bag. “Ex dimittere.”

The bag regurgitated its breakfast with retching that would have made a fraternity brother proud. Now, three unicorns graced the room. One lay on her back with her forehooves over her eyes to mask her embarrassment. The second stood on her hind legs with forehooves over her ears to block the sudden noise. The third stood on three legs with a forehoof over her mouth in eager anticipation.

“That was no less unpleasant from this side.” Dan commented.

“Yeah, we might need to find a better mode of travel,” Twilight acquiesced from where she lay on her back.

“Good morning, Emma Granger, Dan Granger,” Lyra called happily, retrieving saddle bags from the ground. “Please don’t mind us; we just needed somepony to let us out before we go exploring.”

“If you could point us toward Sirius Black’s house, we’ll get out of your mane,” Twilight said. “Professor McGonagall suggested him as a guide.”

“We have no idea where he lives,” Emma admitted.

“Oh,” Twilight said dejectedly.

“Getting an early start?” Dan asked, before taking a sip from his mug. “The sun’s not even up yet.”

Twilight’s ears shot forward as she raised her muzzle and inhaled deeply. “Lyra,” she gasped. “Humans have coffee!”

“Would you care for a cup?” Emma asked, shifting forms to retake her spot at the table.

“Yes please,” Twilight replied eagerly as she sat up on her haunches and brought her forehooves back toward her shoulders. She did not wag her tail like a dog.

“Twilight,” Lyra scolded. “Remember, we’re going to find the bank, get galleons, then find a restaurant. You can get coffee there.”

“I think you may have miscalculated the scale of your logistics,” Dan said, taking another sip. “The bank you’re thinking of is a good hour from here, and you'll need to know the secret to get through the wall.”

“There you go, Lyra,” Twilight said, clambering onto a seat of her own. “Coffee now, walk to bank later. And how did you get here Owlowiscious?”

“Who?”

“A good walk before breakfast will work up our appetites,” Lyra countered.

“Lyra, coffee now, walk later,” Twilight grated.

“But.”

“Why don’t you join us for breakfast instead?” Dan suggested.

“But,” Lyra repeated.

“You wanted to eat what humans eat for breakfast,” Twilight said. “Well, these humans have just invited us to breakfast, and they have coffee.”

“I think you might be addicted to that stuff,” Lyra muttered as she cantered around the table to take the last seat.

“I’m not addicted,” Twilight objected. "I can quit any time I want."

“Keep telling yourself that,” Emma said, heading toward the kitchen to retrieve a couple more plates and coffee mugs. “How about you, Lyra? Would you like juice or maybe milk?”

Lyra perked up at the offer. “Is it human milk?”

“What?” Emma stopped mid-step.

“Is it human milk?” Lyra repeated. “With udders that big, you must have to milk yourself at least once a day. I’ll bet your fingers are wonderful for that.” The green unicorn pantomimed as she sat up on her chair. "You would not believe how much of a pain it is to squeeze and pull with these."

Dan gracefully squirted coffee out of his nostrils. Luckily, he managed to aim for the mug he was still holding.





Monday morning meant more work for Professor McGonagall. Word of the new visitors had reached her when she returned from the party, but she had wanted to give them a chance to settle in before getting down to business. As the morning sun began to burn away the dawn, Professor McGonagall stopped before a portrait of a distinguished looking young wizard. “Good morning Eric. I trust there have been no incidents?” she said to the painting.

“Good morning, Professor,” The man in the portrait replied. “Our guests haven’t left their chambers since arriving. I assume the elves brought them their suppers directly.”

“Good, good,” Minerva said. “If you would, please.”

“But of course,” the face in the painting said, swinging open to reveal the entrance to a common room.

“Thank you.” Minerva replied, entering the chamber to find it occupied. Seven ponies were huddled together, poring over scrolls. The professor noted a lack of tribal diversity among them. With a hint of surprise, she asked the seven, "All of you are unicorns?"

Looking up from her studies, a khaki pony with a dark red mane answered. "Yes, ma'am. Graduates of Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns."

“I see,” Minerva said, reaching into a robe pocket. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. I understand you were all thrown into this circumstance with little or no warning, but let me assure you that all efforts shall be made to meet reasonable accommodations.”

Her announcement was met with smiles and the undivided attention of the room’s occupants.

“First, transfiguration rings have been provided for each of you.” Professor McGonagall extracted a handful of jewelry from her pocket. “When you leave these chambers, you will be expected to take human form and wear clothing. It is improper for humans to walk around in public without coverings.”

Minerva paused to let the information sink in. “To that end, you each will need a full wardrobe. You will also need a wand, as well as various sundries. This necessitates a trip to Diagon Alley. Fortunately, Madam Hooch has graciously volunteered to accompany you after breakfast. You shall each acquire a vault from the goblins, and the yearly salary agreed upon by Princess Celestia shall be made available to you. Be aware that although your room and board here has already been paid, these funds are meant to last you for the entire year, so spend wisely.”

A white pony raised a hoof politely.

“Yes Miss . . .” Professor McGonagall nodded at her.

“Resonate Wave,” the young unicorn said. “Will we be able to have bits sent from home? A salary is appreciated, but I, for one, have means of my own to draw upon.”

Minerva noted that two of the other mares nodded their heads in agreement. “At this time there is not an official exchange rate. Monies are being provided by the families of some of our Equestrian students. They have determined a fair exchange. This includes a small transaction fee, more to give a round number than to bring profits.”

“Who determined this?” a teal pony asked.

“Miss Twilight Sparkle did the calculations,” Minerva answered.

The ponies all nodded, obviously happy with this revelation.

“Now, if you would each step forward, I shall present you with your rings,” the lone human in the room said.





The unicorns watched with intense interest as Emma Granger pulled a strange device from the wall. It had two bulbs connected by a curved handle, and it was tethered by a coiled cord. Emma pressed one bulb to her ear, positioning the bulb on the end with the tether next to her mouth. She touched a series of button near the thing's resting place. After a moment, she started talking. What could she be talking to?

Emma finished with, "Goodbye, I'll see you tomorrow." She returned the device to the hook from which she had taken it, eliciting a sharp click of protest. “That’s that,” she said. “My appointments for today shall be rescheduled.”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve played hooky,” Dan commented. “You deserve the break.”

“We don’t want to get you in trouble,” Twilight protested. “Please don’t let us intrude on your responsibilities.”

“Dan and I own our own practice,” Emma replied. “Being your own boss means you can take a day off every now and again.”

“Thank you for showing us around,” Lyra said, examining the object Emma had been talking into. “I can’t wait to see all of the wonders you humans have to offer.” Then, pointing her hoof at the object. “What exactly is this called. What’s it’s range? How does it work?”

Emma noticed Twilight perk her own ears waiting for the answers, practically dancing in place with ill-concealed interest. “It’s called a telephone. You can talk to anyone in the world who has one of their own. It works with electric pulses.”

“Anypony in the world?” Twilight's eyes narrowed. “Surely you’re exaggerating. Electrical signals degrade with distance.”

“We have a complete network,” Dan said pocketing a jingling ring of strange keys. “It connects just about everyone in the world. There are few exceptions to the rule.”

“Really?” Twilight said, not convinced but still excited over the possibilities. “Do you have a way to transmit electric pulses without losing power over distance?”

“I don't know the details,” Dan answered. "I know we can talk to any phone around the world with little delay. It's been explained to me as being like a giant cat with its tail where you are and its head wherever in the world you want to talk. You step on its tail here, and it yowls there."

“Hold up, don’t leave just yet,” Emma said to her husband. She then turned to the two ponies. “Both of you can change into humans, right?”

“I can,” Twilight said. “Lyra can’t.”

“Dan, lend her your ring,” Emma said with a pointed look.

Lyra looked at the ring in Dan’s palm as he held it out to her. “Don’t humans like ponies?” she asked, sounding heartbroken.

“Most people think humans are the only intelligent animal on the planet,” Dan said reassuringly. “If you go out as a pony, the whole world will be watching your every move within five minutes, and that is by no means an exaggeration. Your problem would be that they like you too much.”

“Oh.” Lyra zealously plucked the ring from Dan’s hand with her magic. “How does this work?”

“Just stick it in your mouth,” Twilight said. “Then concentrate on being human.”

“I have hands!” were Lyra’s next words a few seconds later.

As Lyra proceeded to examine every nuance of her new form, Twilight refilled the mugs with a bit of telekinesis. “I think we have time for another cup of coffee.”

“That pink monstrosity of an outfit has got to go,” Emma commented as she grabbed the mug that Twilight floated over.





The seven were quite surprised when they activated their rings. The  naked truth was that the animagus spell in the transformation rings was  significantly different than what Celestia had cobbled together. With  modesty, they could now say they looked like a bubblegum band.

“I  don’t know; I kind of like it,” a leggy young woman with golden yellow  hair said, twirling in place to show off her new attire.  "I'm pretty in  pink."

“Barbie, your sense of fashion is beyond questionable.” Resonate Wave admonished.

“Barbie?” Professor McGonagall questioned, turning a questioning gaze on the new woman.

“Yes, my parents have tons of Griffon friends.” The yellow haired apprentice answered, somberly. “They named me in honor of an acquaintance who gave her life saving my father’s.”





A solitary unicorn sat at her dining table enjoying scones with apple preserves when an owl landed on the kitchen counter.

“Good morning, darling,” she said after a sip of tea. “Would you care for some breakfast? I’m afraid I don’t have any meat, but I do have some owl treats on hoof, and, of course, plenty of tea.”

The owl just looked at her and held out a thick envelope which it clutched by the twine tied around it. The bird wore a strange harness displaying a strange crest.

“I see, you're all business,” Rarity said, using her magic to retrieve the envelope. “Are you sure I couldn’t talk you into a light repast?”

Its job done, the owl took off and left the way it had come.

“How rude,” Rarity said, examining the envelope. It had the same crest embossed on it. “I do hope this isn’t more bad news.”





Three former unicorns exited the front door of a large suburban house. The one with purple hair with a pink streak said, “You don’t have any expansion work on your home?”

“Actually, only a very small subset of our population can use magic,” Emma said, locking the door behind herself. “In fact, most of the world is unaware that real magic even exists.”

“How is that even possible?” Lyra asked. “Especially if your communications are even half as good as you claim?”

“The magic users keep themselves hidden,” Emma answered. “They call it the Statute of Secrecy. I, for one, don’t think they can keep it up for much longer.”

“Why would they do that?” Twilight asked.

“We have a rocky history,” Emma admitted. “They originally did it for safety. Now, I think it’s more tradition than anything else.”

“You mean you’ve done all this without magic?” Twilight gestured at the neighborhood.

“Yes,” Emma said.

“Amazing.” Twilight looked around, drinking in the sights.

“Twilight, they have go-carts,” Lyra said, watching a car roar down the street in front of the house.

“What is that road made of?” Twilight said, her attention elsewhere. “It’s even more uniform than the cobblestones in Canterlot.”

“Canterlot?” Emma asked. “You have a town called Canterlot?”

“Yes, it’s our capital city,” Twilight said.

“How bizarre,” Emma said walking up to a go-cart sitting on the small road leading up to her house. “The road is made out of black top.”

“That name is somewhat unimaginative.” Lyra declared moving to stand next to Emma.

“But accurate.” Twilight said, moving to Emma’s other side.

“Lyra, you want to get in on the other side.” Emma placed a key in the door of the go-cart. “Twilight, if you would please get in back.”

“Wouldn’t it be quicker to walk?” Lyra asked, following Emma’s directions.

“No,” Emma answered.





Parvati yawned broadly before snuggling back into the pony pile to get a few more minutes of sleep before they had to get up for classes. They had all collapsed in bed as soon as possible, sleeping through supper and all of the night.

As she lay there, Parvati was plagued by the sense that something important was missing. Grumbling, she raised her head to scan her surroundings. Still half asleep, she prodded the nearest bundle of fur with a hoof. “Seamus? Where’s Magah?”





Rarity opened her front door to see who was knocking at such an early hour. “Oh, Mayor Mare. What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here at such a dreadful hour?”

In response, the mayor stepped to the side and pointed with a hoof.

“Oh my,” Rarity brought a dainty hoof to her mouth. “Wherever did she obtain such a hideous lampshade?”

“I don’t know,” Mayor Mare said, “but she refuses to take it off her head.”





“Philomena,” Hermione called out groggily. “Would you mind going and fetching Magah?”





“How fast are we going?!” Lyra asked with a death grip on the dashboard in front of her.

“About a hundred and twelve kilometers per hour.” Emma replied, casually suppressing her laughter.

“What’s a kilometer?” Twilight shouted with her own death grip on the back of Lyra’s seat.

Surprised, Emma replied, "You're not on the metric system?"





“How could they forget their pet unicorn?” Mare Mayor said, studying the reeling larger mare. “How can they even have a pet unicorn?!”

Her rant was cut off by a flash of fire.

“Good morning, Philomena,” Rarity called out cheerfully, waving.

Philomena trilled a reply before disappearing in another ball of flames.

Mayor Mare sighed and lowered her ears. “I hope that’s the most exciting thing I have to deal with today.”





The screaming brought Cheerilee charging out of the schoolhouse in time to witness the monstrosity trap the entirety of her class against the side of the building. Frantically, Cheerilee rushed forward as wails of terror punctuated the horror as one of the three heads lowered menacingly to . . . drop a stick in front of the cowering foals?

The shock caused Cheerilee to stumble and face plant, coming to a skidding halt. Meanwhile, Zipporwhill inched forward to pick up the stick. “Fetch!” she cried, flinging the piece of wood as far as she could.

Amazingly or predictably, depending on expectations, the large mass of muscle dashed after the offering, wagging its tail the entire time.

“Will you look at that?” Zipporwhill said. “He just wanted to play.” She turned to address the rest of the class only to find a blank wall behind her. “Hey! Where did everypony go . . . urk!”

Zipporwill didn’t register that Cheerilee was carrying her until after the front door to the school had slammed shut.





“Mayor! Rarity!” Rumble yelled, diving down, flailing his hooves in alarm. “Come quick! A giant three-headed dog has everypony trapped in the school!”

“Oh, you’ve met Fluffy,” Rarity said.

“Fluffy?!” The Mayor and Rumble echoed each other.

“Apple Bloom’s new pet,” Rarity offered as an answer.

“Fluffy?!” The Mayor and Rumble reiterated, incredulity evident in their voices.

“Yes, he seems scary at first, but is genuinely rather friendly.”

“Fluffy?!” came the chorus yet again, this time at a higher octave.

“Well, friendly, unless you happen to be a timber wolf. That’s a different story entirely.”





Carefully, Cheerilee peeked out the window. “He’s still out there.” She whispered loudly, gesturing for the foals to stay back. She needn’t have bothered, as everypony else was huddled in the corner furthest from the ongoing drama.

“Somehow, I just know the Crusaders are behind this,” one of the foals buried in the pile said. “It’s been a couple weeks since their last incident.”

“That’s absurd,” another foal countered. “They're not even in Ponyville. Besides, they had an incident yesterday.”

“That was a false alarm,” Dinky noted. “They’re due for a good one.”

“That’s not true.” Yet another foal argued. “The singing the other day falls under the Crusaders’ tally.”

“Fair enough.” Agreed Dinky.





Berry Punch smacked her lips as she woke from what she thought was the best night of her life. She had been so sure that she was doomed to spend the rest of her life alone when somepony showed her how special she was. She was unsure of the details, but she could swear that she hadn't gone to bed alone. There was no denying, however, that she was now the only one in her bed.

Was it all a dream? Maybe she was meant to stay unattached. Oh, well.

Wait a minute . . . Where was her lampshade?





Watching the first-years enter the Great Hall for breakfast, Professor Goodman noticed an anomaly. Putting down his fork, he hurried over to challenge them.

“Miss Belle.” He said as he walked up. “Is your unicorn drunk?”

“Maybe?” Sweetie Belle answered.

The belch that followed rattled every window in the Great Hall. There was now no doubt about Magah's inebriation.
> Chapter 58: Potential Girl Band Material
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight Sparkle used to think that Manehattan was a huge city. This city, London, easily put that proud metropolis to shame. She had stopped counting the structures taller than the Crystaller Building after she had reached fifteen. The fact that all of this had been built without magic was mind-boggling. Clearly, humans must have a grasp of engineering far beyond any pony's.

The buildings were only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Simple ground transportation was faster and more efficient than anything she had seen before. When Twilight had expressed her amazement at the vast network of paved roads, Emma had dismissed them as a mundane feature. Construction of such infrastructure with cobblestones from Canterlot to Ponyville alone would take all the construction ponies in Equestria several lifetimes. She had once been impressed by the hard-packed, magic-reinforced roadways of Manehattan's business district. They were nothing compared with the single superhighway they had just recently left behind.

She could scarcely imagine what human technology could do when coupled with human magic, to say nothing of the boost Equestrian magic would add. With expansion charms alone, her modest library could house more volumes than the Royal Canterlot Library. Earth ponies could travel at pegasus speeds without breaking a sweat. Ponies from around Equestria could come together without having to leave home.

The journey on the ribbon of black top came to an end all too soon as Emma Granger turned the overpowered go-cart into a building that seemed to be designed to store nothing but these vehicles. The Equestrians were amazed as they passed seven floors filled to capacity before Emma found a slot hidden between two behemoths.

“We’re here.” Emma declared, amusement evident in her voice. “I hope the trip didn’t traumatize you two too badly.”





In the Great Hall, the moans of Monday morning misery came to an abrupt halt when Professor McGonagall escorted seven young women to their table. Every eye was locked on the group as they demonstrated how dramatically shades of pink clashed with Slytherin green. Without comment, the transfiguration professor made her way to her seat at the staff table to have her own meal.

“At least they are wearing clothes this time,” a girl from Hufflepuff commented.

“That hair can’t be natural,” yet another added.

“Why are they sitting with the Slytherins?” asked a third.

“I sure hope they don't expect us to wear those hideous pink uniforms,” a Ravenclaw girl practically whined.

The chatter abruptly stopped again when the headmaster tapped his fork against his goblet. "Good morning, one and all," he said, standing up. “I would like to announce some changes to the faculty as well as some new additions to our school.”

The students all pointedly looked at the new girls in confusion and then back at Dumbledore.

“First of all,” Dumbledore said, “Mr. Goodman shall be taking the position of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

This proclamation was met with loud cheers and a good deal of clapping.

Dumbledore let the outbursts continue for a short time before raising a hand for silence. “In that vein, he will be employing a teacher’s assistant.” He waved his hand at a tall stranger with vivid hair, sitting next to their new DADA professor. “Please welcome Miss Berrytwist.”

More clapping was heard as the students studied the dangerously attractive woman with hungry eyes.

“Last, and certainly, not least,” Dumbledore said, “Professor Snape has accepted a septet of advanced students for postgraduate potions studies. Their responsibilities shall include supporting the teaching of his lower-division classes. With the extra help, he shall be able to devote more time to his advanced classes.” He paused for a second to let the news sink in. “All students who received Exceeds Expectations or above on their O.W.L.S. are now encouraged to continue potions at the N.E.W.T. level. If you are interested, please contact the head of your house and it shall be added to your schedule. The Ministry shall be providing books and supplies this year for those of you who take advantage of this opportunity.”





“Books!” Twilight hungrily exclaimed, breaking away from the two other women she had been walking with. She soon had her face pressed against a large plate glass window, drooling over the beauties just out of her reach. Lyra was less than two steps behind her.

Any other time, Emma would have laughed at the display, but this time, she was too busy staring at the dingy pub next to the bookstore.





The early-rising regulars of the Leaky Cauldron were treated to the spectacle of a young witch rolling out of the floo. She had tucked herself into a tight ball that evenly distributed the bruises as she tumbled half the length of the pub with her long yellow hair flailing like a banner. “Do not like!” she squealed after coming to a rest when she crashed into a chair.

A wizard poked his fork into his morning fry up. “First time in the floo?”

“AND LAST!” The yellow-haired woman seethed as the floo flared again, this time disgorging a young woman with lime green and aqua hair bisected neatly down the middle. What looked like the start of an uncontrolled tumble turned into an aerial cartwheel followed by a back handspring capped with a round-off.

As she rose from her bow, she strolled over to her companion and asked, "Barbie, what are you doing on the floor?"

“Shut up, Graceful.” Barbie barked as she struggled to her feet.

The next woman through demonstrated a perfect superhero landing, without the invulnerability.

“Looks like we are having a morning of newbies.” Another wizard abandoned his seat to quickly kneel beside the downed woman. "Let me have a look, I’m a healer.”

The next woman bowled him over as she stumbled out of the floo.

“Tom could charge admission for this entertainment,” a witch sitting at the bar commented.





“I need a quill and parchment to make a list,” Twilight moaned as she took in the titles of the books before her. “Lyra, why did you drag me out of my house before I was prepared?”

“Emma made me leave my saddle bags at her house. I’m in the same boat,” Lyra countered, her nose buried in a book on human physiology.

“You two are as bad as my daughter,” Emma said, looking at the pile of books Twilight had procured. “Tell you what, let’s just take this stack back to the car. I’ll put the purchase on my card, and you can pay me back when we get to the bank.”

“Oh.” Twilight grimaced, taking another book off a shelf. “I forgot I can’t just leave a promissory note. We do need to get money first before making a proper purchase.”

“Proper?” Emma eyed the stack that towered above her once more. “You may be even worse than Hermione.”





Despite sporting the trappings of a normal bank, Gringotts was very much like something from the Brothers Grimm. A normal muggle would have run away screaming at the first sight of a goblin guard. An HMRC agent would have recruited the floor manager on the spot.

The serious atmosphere was upended by the appearance of what could be described as a painfully pink parody of the Seven Dwarfs. Anyone mistaking Madam Hooch for Snow White would be in for a long stint in St. Mungo's. Somber conversation gave way to ill-concealed laughter from the witches and wizards. The normally stoic guards raised their eyebrows in surprise as the floor manager stormed over to confront this affront to goblin sensibilities.

Glaring at the group, Floor Manager Sharptack growled, "Normally, I could not care less what witches choose to wear, but your group looks like trouble. What business do you have today?”

Unfazed by the routine goblin bluntness Madam Hooch replied, "We are here to meet Arthur Weasley."

"There is no 'Arthur Weasley' here."

The priggish dowager Ironbottom marched over to confront the flagrantly brazen youngsters. "For shame!" she said. "How could you go out in public in such affronts to decency? I wouldn’t let my three year old great grandniece wear those shameful displays and mark my words, they would fit her better than they do you. Have you no shame? "

Madam Hooch said, "See here now, my students' only crimes are against fashion."

Ignoring her, Ironbottom said, "Don't you have anything to say for yourselves?"

Barbie stepped forward. "No," she said. "I'd rather sing.". As she drew in a deep breath, everyone inside could feel the magic building. Ironbottom's face fell as she realized that she had made a mistake of the highest order.





Arthur Weasley threw open the doors to Gringotts in time to witness an impossible sight. Goblins were intermingled with witches and wizards in a multi-tiered kick line. The normally reserved Mrs. Ironbottom was swinging from a chandelier, adding a surprising mezzosoprano to the chorus. As the last strains of melody died away, the spell was broken, and everyone went back to their business, fervently praying that no one had recorded the performance.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his three-piece suit as he located Madam Hooch. He clutched a plain, textbook-sized wooden box as he approached her. It came as no surprise that her entourage was blatantly non-conformal. "Good morning, ladies," he said to the youngsters. Nodding to their chaperone, he added, "Madam Hooch."

“Hello Mr. Weasley.” Madam Hooch returned. “Girls, say hello to Arthur Weasley.”

“Hello to Arthur Weasley,” the females promptly recited.

Arthur smiled at the icebreaker. "Please allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Arthur Weasley, and I am the liaison between your government and the Ministry of Magic, the wizarding government. On behalf of the Ministry, I welcome you today. Yours is the first step of what we hope will be many to draw our two peoples together as friends and partners."

A spindly redhead stepped forward and replied, "Well met, Arthur Weasley. On behalf of Princess Celestia and her school, we welcome your services and give our sincere thanks for allowing us to pursue this opportunity to share knowledge."

Arthur said, "If you have any concerns or issues, please do not hesitate to contact me. I will do my best to resolve any issues. I know you're all eager to start your shopping, so let me start by giving you access to your funds." Opening the box, he displayed seven vault keys, in a velvet-lined holder. "Touching your vault key to a witch's or wizard's invoice will transfer the agreed upon sum from your vault to theirs." Picking up the first key from the array, he asked, "Which of you is Raspberry Crunch?"

“I am.”

“Here you go,” he said, handing over the key before proceeding to call each of the remaining Equestrians in turn.





A trio of tailgaters stopped as the helpful witch continued on her way through the wall, into Diagon Alley. Emma Granger looked, puzzled, as her colorfully coiffured companions gawked at the archway that had morphed from what had been a solid brick wall. She said, "I thought this sort of magic would be old hat for you two."

"It is," replied Lyra, "but this is different. I can't even begin to explain how beautiful this piece of spellwork is."

"What do you mean?" asked Emma.

"It is both creative and impressive," Twilight gushed. "It's like talking a starving Tazlwyrm into giving up its meal." She vibrated with excitement as she continued. "They didn't use brute force and ram the change through in one go. They synergistically linked several tiny spells in sequence. It's like rolling a snowball. Each small spell uses its energy and the energy from the previous spells to bootstrap the next. They didn't waste even a microthaum in mana to pass the Blueberry Hill power threshold; no flash of light, no field disturbance, all the energy went into triggering the spell. I can't even sense any mana crystals; it must be triggered by the witch's focus and pull the rest of what it needs from the ambient mana. I wish I had my horn. I could do a thorough analysis with it. We are so coming back for a closer look when I get my wand."

“Couldn’t you have done the same thing?” Emma asked, looking at the excited younger woman.

"Yes, but the user needs barely enough mana to blink an eye to run this spell. I would need approximately 0.56872 megathaums, and more than half of that would go into waste light and heat when the portal slammed open." She turned to Emma. "Are you sure the people here would notice a unicorn?"

Emma nodded.

Deflating slightly, Twilight pouted. "Fine. This is such a simple concept, but its potential applications are revolutionary. I can already see how I can adapt it for a disabled pony."

“Humans were always supposed to have been creative,” Lyra said. “Here’s proof.”

“Let’s hurry before it closes,” Emma said, darting through the portal.

“It’s like an entirely different world in here.” Lyra said, following her closely.

“This is a magic-dense area,” Emma offered, “completely different building styles.”

“I like it,” Lyra said calmly. “Where do we start?”

“I think you may be suffering from information overload,” Emma said.

“If this is suffering, then call me a masochist.”





With clinical detachment, Madam Hooch cataloged Barbie's breakfast: blueberry muffin, toast with marmalade, oatmeal, and tea. It was a pity that the use of wands was forbidden within Gringotts,

“Do not like!” Barbie declared loudly, exiting the minecart as fast as equinely possible. With nothing left to give, she dropped to her hands and knees and performed the traditional earth pony field blessing.

“Oh, come on. On the Jolting Thrill Coaster Scale, this barely ranks above 'hold my hoof, mommy'," said Graceful Charm from her seat on the railed conveyance. "Besides, you knew it was going to be a rough ride. Why did you do it?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," replied Barbie.

The transfigured pony unsteadily rose to her feet and turned to face the car. The small human-like creature who had guided the vehicle leered obscenely at her, showing an alarming number of pointed teeth. Weakly, Barbie returned the smile. "So, what are you doing after work?" The goblin's smile vanished in a heartbeat.





In a show of tribal unity, an earth pony mare and a unicorn mare trotted up the road to the schoolhouse while a grey pegasus colt nervously hovered above them. When the building came into view, so did their objective. The giant three-headed dog was sitting in front of the door, wagging its tail as it held a stick in its center mouth.

Rarity called out, "Fluffy! Here, boy!"

The ground trembled as the pet dashed over to greet her. His center head bowed down and gently dropped a slobber-covered stick at her forehooves.

With ill-concealed rupophobia, Rarity picked up the stick with her telekinesis. "Here you go. Fetch!"

Fluffy watched the stick sail toward Sweet Apple Acres, waiting for it to fall before racing after it."

At a leisurely pace, Rarity followed the dog. She stopped when Fluffy returned and dropped the stick at her forehooves. Mayor Mare asked skeptically, "So, you'll be able to take it back home?"

“Yes,” Rarity said. “I’ll just walk him back home. I am sure Applejack will be upset over the panic he has caused.”

“Thank you for helping,” Mayor Mare said. “I’ll just go over and reassure Cheerilee and the children.”

“Ta ta,” Rarity said, flinging the stick once more.

Muttering to herself, the mayor made her way into the schoolhouse to find the entire class huddled in a corner while Cheerilee stood close to a window looking at her expectantly. “Don’t worry,” the mayor said. “Fluffy is being taken home.”

“Fluffy!?” the accumulated equines in the room cried in shrill disbelief.

“Yeah," Rumble said, coming up from behind the mayor. “That’s the name Apple Bloom gave to her new pet.”

There was a pregnant pause before a filly in the pile asked, “Mayor Mare, can you make a law so that the Crusaders aren’t allowed to hang out with Fluttershy anymore?”

“Yeah,” added a colt. “Sweetie Belle has a pet unicorn, and now Apple Bloom has Fluffy. I don’t want to find out what kind of monster Scootaloo thinks is cool.”

A wave of agreement emanated from the pile of foals.

“By the way,” a filly said, “you owe me ten bits Dust Stomper; that was totally on the Crusaders' tally.”





In reasonably short order, normalcy had returned to Gringotts. This time, the patrons took pains to ignore the witches with colorful hair and elegantly casual clothing that was far more fashionable than anything that could be produced in Diagon Alley.

“Good morning, sir,” Twilight said to the teller when her turn came. “I would like to withdraw some money please.”

The teller, who Emma had identified as a goblin, looked at her with palpable surprise. “Of course. Do you have your vault key?”

“Yes!” Twilight said, fishing the requested object out of a pocket. “Here.”

The goblin took the key from Twilight’s hand and examined it. “This is a main vault key for one of our top depositors. How did you acquire it?” The last was said with a snarl.

Slightly taken aback, Twilight said. “Applejack lent it to me this morning when we went over to collect Lodestone.”

“You expect me to believe that the owner of this vault ‘lent’ it to you, no questions asked?”

“Well, yes. I did promise to reimburse her.”

“I would be a fool to let just any witch who walks in off the street have unlimited access to this vault.” The teller's snarl did not vanish and he glanced down to check something hidden from her view. “It just so happens that the wizard in charge of this account is currently in the bank talking to his account manager. You can take it up with him.”

“Arthur Weasley is here?” Twilight said, relief flooding her features. “Yes, please, I’d love to talk to him.”

The teller fixed her with a glare that did not soften. He motioned and another goblin ran up. Handing the key to the new goblin, he said. “Take this witch to see Tricksno. Make sure she doesn’t stray.”

Twilight glanced at the runner then back at the teller. “Thank you for the extra caution, it is appreciated.”

The teller grunted. “That remains to be seen.” Then, he barked out, “Next!”





Monday morning breakfast quietly ended in the Great Hall. As usual, the Gryffindor first-years found themselves at the center of attention. Philomena had taken advantage of the situation to help herself to a few extra rashers of bacon. Shyly, the first-year witches from the other houses had taken advantage of the situation in a different manner, filing past the resident unicorn and petting her on the way out.

“She’s asleep on her feet,” Neville said as he wiped his mouth on his napkin. Magah had forgone breakfast and was softly snoring where she stood behind Sweetie Belle.

“No surprise there,” Terisa said. “How do you get a unicorn drunk in the first place?”

“Give her lots of alcohol?” Scootaloo offered helpfully.

“I meant, how do you get her to drink alcohol in the first place?”

“Offer her mixed drinks?” Sweetie Belle suggested. “Rarity says some of the most potent things she had ever drunk had hidden kicks.”

Terisa looked first at Sweetie then back at Magah. “Put her necklace on, and I’ll take her back to the dorms to sleep it off. I have a free period.”

“Thanks, Terisa,” Sweetie said as she produced a familiar necklace. In quick order, it was placed over the sleeping unicorn’s neck. It was at this point that the reason that humans do not sleep standing up made itself known.

*Thump!*

“Bakon?”





Anyone who worked in business had their equivalent of Monday morning. Tricksno irritably reminded himself of that fact as he attempted to explain a particularly complicated transaction to his primary client. The knock on his door derailed his train of thought. Everyone in the bank knew how important this meeting was; this must be something critical. Gruffly, he said, "Come in."

The door opened, and three human women filed in, followed by a runner. The runner closed the door behind himself before hurrying over to Triksno offering a key and a whisper.

“Hello, Arthur Weasley,” the purple-haired woman said cheerfully with a wave.

“Miss Sparkle?” Arthur said, recognizing the voice and the distinct hair. He stood up and offered his hand. “I hadn’t expected you to show up this morning.”

The mint green haired woman rushed forward and enthusiastically clasped Arthur’s hand with both of her own. “Good morning, Arthur Weasley.”

Arthur quickly searched his memory for a name from the long list of ponies he had recently met. “Miss Bon Bon? What a pleasant surprise. And Mrs. Granger as well. Good morning.”

“It’s Lyra actually,” Lyra said, unconcerned. “Bon Bon is my partner.”

“You know these witches?” Tricksno said. “They were attempting to withdraw money from your main vault. Again, defeating the purpose of spending accounts, I might add.”

“We don’t mean to cause any problems,” Twilight said. “But we didn’t want to interrupt the girls at school to get one of their keys. Applejack lent me her key instead.”

Tricksno looked at the key in his hand before nudging it across his desk in Arthur’s direction. “Did you want discretionary vaults for these women and ‘Applejack’ as well?”

“Most likely,” Arthur said as Lyra continued to study his hand, which she had yet to release. “Though I will need to speak with Mrs. Belle and Mrs. Applejack first. No offense, Miss Sparkle.”

“None taken.” Twilight smiled. “I completely understand.”

“Then just for Mrs. Belle and Mrs. Applejack?” The goblin prodded.

“And Rainbow Dash.” Twilight said.

The goblin ignored her and focused his gaze on Arthur, who nodded.

“In the meantime,” Arthur said, fishing in his own pocket, “use my key for any purchases you might make today.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said, accepting the key from Arthur. “I will reimburse you.”

“There is no need.” Arthur shook his head. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I’ll complete my meeting with Tricksno and will be glad to escort you around.”

“Do you know where Sirius Black’s house is?” Twilight asked hopefully.

“I believe I know how to contact him.”

“I’m going to take them over to get some wands,” Mrs. Granger spoke up. “We’ll be doing that while you finish up your meeting, and we are sorry to interrupt.”

“I’ll find you in the alley when I’m done here, then.” Arthur grinned.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Twilight echoed, concentrating on Tricksno. “And thank you for the security and professionalism you have extended toward the girls' account.”

Tricksno grunted and motioned toward the runner. “Show these witches to the front door.”





After the excitement from her unexpected Sunday customers, Madam Malkin was expecting the rest of her week to devolve into the muddled miasma of slack times. Her ears perked at the unfamiliar sound of seven-part harmony. The lyrics promised excitement and adventure, with rich rewards for hard work.

With a jangle, the bell above her door announced a Hogwarts faculty member and her painfully pink pupils. With a gradual diminuendo, their song ended. Madam Malkin could practically feel the galleons in her purse. Seven adult-sized wardrobes would mean a pretty profit; who cares if they sported candy-colored hair?

Madam Hooch could swear she could see the galleon signs in the seamstress's eyes when Madam Malkin said, “Welcome to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.”

Eagerly, Barbie said, "I like!"

Puzzled by her friend's enthusiasm, Graceful Charm said, "I thought you said that school uniforms were boring."

With a practiced whip of her mane, Barbie replied, "Yeah, but I make them look good."





The air was electric with anticipation as Emma led Twilight and Lyra to Ollivander's. The bell above the door gave a delicate tinkle as Emma walked in to the familiar sight of shelf after shelf of small rectangular boxes. She said, "Just to let you know, the proprietor likes to sneak up on you."

"You're giving away all of my secrets," Ollivander said as he stepped out of the shadows. To his disappointment, the newcomers had separated, ready for action, and had been staring in his direction before he had emerged.

Blushing, Emma replied, "I'm sorry."

“Ah, Equestrians here for their first wands,” Ollivander said, running his gaze over the two women with chromatic hair. “And Mrs. Granger, you were here earlier this year for your daughter’s first wand as well.”

“Yes, sir,” Emma said. “I would like to try a wand as well.”

“You seek a wand?” he asked, returning his gaze to her. As he scrutinized her, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh my! How very very curious. Yes, very curious indeed. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered this situation before. I dare say that you are the very embodiment of change. How ever did you accomplish this?”

“Healthy eating,” Emma responded.

“I see.” Ollivander brought out his trademark measuring tape. “Very well, which is your wand hand?”

“Actually, I’m a descendant of Lucinda Kirkland, nee Lestrange.” Emma decided she should offer some explanation as she indicated her right hand.

“Did you find something questionable in the Lestrange family vaults?” Ollivander asked, taking measurements. “That would account for your altered status.”

“Why would I have access to their vaults?” Emma asked.

“Since the only other remaining family members are incarcerated, I would have assumed that you secured ownership.”

“I was not aware that they were in prison.” Emma mused, biting her lower lip.

“Try swishing this,” Ollivander said as he handed her a wand, “twelve-inch ash with unicorn hair.”

As Emma swished a wand for the very first time, Garrick Ollivander made history. He became the first in his family to appreciate the wisdom of emergency pants.





In the non-restricted greenhouse, the Gryffindor first-years were busy getting their hands, and other body parts, dirty.

“Ah’m starting to hate pussy willow,” Apple Bloom grumbled as she attempted to return an overly-affectionate plant to its pot.

“It’s not so bad,” Harry said, manhandling his own plant. “You just need to remember to stay five feet away from them all times. They seem to like you.”

“And Neville,” Luna noted. “Shouldn’t we help him, Susan, and Lavender?”

“Mind the spitting tulips.” Ginny warned as she attempted to work her robe free from the floor.

“I hope the professor gets here soon.” Seamus complained, walking uncomfortably. "You don't want to know where that bouncing bulb's been.





Amid the more normal destruction, Ollivander noticed one of the women wasn’t paying attention to the wand selection as Emma made her seventh attempt a success.

Ollivander was surprised to find that one of the women had lost interest in Emma's struggles. He gave a hint of a frown. Discovering the right wand was an experience to be shared between friends and family. “Eleven inches, fir with the heartstring of a Swedish short-snout,” Ollivander said before turning to the preoccupied young woman. “You seem distracted.”

“Something is calling to me from the back room,” the purple-haired woman said, moving slowly in the direction she indicated.

“Then by all means,” Ollivander said, providing the only encouragement the woman needed. She hurried into his studio and immediately crossed over to his workbench. With unerring hands, she reached for his newest creation, one of several commissioned recently and the only one complete. It leapt across the room, into her hand, like a dog welcoming a long-absent friend.

“This feels like Princess Celestia,” she cooed in awe.

Highly conscious that the woman somehow recognized the source his patron had mentioned, Ollivander said, “I am very sorry, but that wand is not for sale. It is a commissioned piece with a core made from materials I do not own.”

“This is my wand,” the woman said as she studied the focus with glistening eyes. “I can feel that it is my wand.”

“I am sorry,” Ollivander said again. “That wand belongs to Miss Scoot Aloo.”

“Scootaloo has a wand already,” the woman said, not taking her eyes off the object in her hands. “She showed it to me yesterday.”

“Be that as it may,” Ollivander insisted, “this too belongs to her. I’m afraid I cannot sell it to you.” Then, with a more encouraging tone, he continued, “However, she may be willing to part with it if you approach her. That wand is made from elder, a most fitting material for such a powerful core. I suspect that it will not respond well, if at all, for anyone but you.”

“So, I just need to have Scootaloo tell you to sell it to me first?” the woman asked.

“The wand belongs to Miss Aloo, she can sell or give it to you at her own discretion.”

“I’m sure she won’t have a problem with it,” the woman said as the two other women looked over Ollivander’s shoulders at the scene. “Just let me take it with me, and I’ll talk to her about it.”

“You seem confident that she will relinquish that wand.” Ollivander was getting worried; he didn’t want the young girl put in danger by a potentially volatile strange woman.

“Her adoptive mother to be is one of my five closest friends,” the woman replied. “This is not going to be a problem.”

“Very well,” Ollivander said, not wanting to upset the woman who was bonding so strongly with a notably powerful wand. So much so, that it was starting to hum in her hands, thereby finalizing the bond. “If you swear on your magic not to harm Miss Aloo or any others directly or indirectly based on your intent to own that wand, I shall let you leave here with it today.”

“What?” The woman tore her gaze away from the wand to stare at Ollivander in horror. “I would never harm anypony except in defense of others or myself, and then I would try to subdue first if at all possible.”

As she spoke the last word, a double helix of rainbow light wrapped around her. The tail of each helix raced up to its head. The magic compressed into a point before exploding onto the ceiling in the form of a pink six-pointed star covering all but the points of a smaller white six-pointed star. Five small white six-pointed stars surrounded the large pink star.

Ollivander stared into her eyes looking for deception. “I believe you.” He finally said. There really was no choice anymore. As the wand’s maker he could tell that it would not lightly suffer being separated from the woman who held it.
> Chapter 59: Through the Mildly Reflective Plate Glass
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bespectacled man sat behind his desk, confident that the security measures that had been added after the attack earlier in the year would keep away anything capable of penetrating the armored glass of the windows. He had not yet served a year as Prime Minister, but he already could recognize the signs of what promised to be a relatively peaceful Monday. He skimmed the morning briefing, humming softly. An MP from the opposition party had passed away suddenly at the end of the last week, but there were others who would handle the arrangements on his end. If this were the worst the day had to offer, he would count himself lucky.

He cursed himself for tempting fate when green flames erupted from the fireplace. From painful experience, he knew it would be futile for him to call for help. Besides, if the promises made during the last occurrence held, no harm would come to him from this encounter.

Grimacing, the Prime Minister witnessed a rather eccentric-looking gentleman with full-length business robes and shoulder-length white hair emerge from the green flames. The visitor stumbled slightly before righting himself, and he grinned broadly when their eyes met.

Cheerily, the visitor called out, "Good morning!" He walked toward the desk with his right hand extended.

"Good morning," replied the Prime Minister in a guarded tone. "You're not the same bloke as last time."

"No, he's not," interjected the portrait of a froglike little man wearing a long silver wig. From the far corner of the room, it continued, "And, I should remind him that it is my job to announce his arrival."

“Did I break protocol?” the man asked as he picked up the Prime Minister’s hand and shook it vigorously. "My apologies, I'm rather new to all this; all I got was the floo address. My secretary just scheduled 'meet the muggle Prime Minister sometime today', and I guess this qualifies as sometime. Now that I think about it, that was actually on a note he had on his desk while working on my schedule, but that's practically the same thing."

“I see.” The Prime Minister reclaimed his hand with more force than strictly necessary and gestured to a seat in front of his desk. He didn’t choose the one with front legs an inch shorter than the rear, deciding to give the stranger the benefit of the doubt, for now. “Been a change of power, has there?”

“Yes,” the man said, taking the seat. “My predecessor is currently sitting in a cell awaiting a trial. He’s taken a substantial number of bribes, and the bookkeepers are finding more than just a little embezzlement as well.”

“I see,” the Prime Minister repeated. “That sounds like rather nasty business.”

“It is indeed,” the man agreed. “But where are my manners? I am Xenophilius Lovegood, Minister of Magic.”

The Prime Minister reciprocated by giving his own name, already liking this man better than his predecessor. He then started fishing. “So, you led a political coup against Mr. Fudge?”

“What?” Minister Lovegood looked genuinely startled at the suggestion. “No, I got roped into politics after he had already been arrested. A Miss Alice Rutter was the one who produced evidence of the bribes. Finding the embezzlement came later.”

“I see, so, roped into?”

“Yes, a paper with my name came out of the Goblet of Fire.”

Worry creased the Prime Minister’s eyebrows. “You were chosen at random?”

Minister Lovegood shook his head. “The goblet is a magical artifact that is given a list of qualifications. It is up to the wizards and witches to deposit a slip of paper with anyone’s name. When the time comes, the goblet will select the most qualified candidate from the nominations, binding him or her to the position regardless of what they may think of the whole thing.”

“That sounds rough.” The Prime Minister let some pity leak into his eyes. “I assume that could cause some resentment from the unfortunate victim.”

“Not so much,” Minister Lovegood corrected. “The goblet’s magic takes that into account.”

“Sounds like a perfect method for electing government officials,” the Prime Minister conceded.

“It does have its flaws,” Minister Lovegood said.

“Such as?”

“The goblet uses only the criteria it is given to make its selection.”

“Oh. That doesn't sound so bad.”

“Well, the Wizengamot has already decided to add ‘is sane’ next time we need a new Minister.”

The Prime Minister chortled at the joke; he was going to like this fellow a lot better than the last one. “They threw you in the deep end without a life preserver, did they?”

“A deep end with nargles and blisterfins,” Minister Lovegood agreed with a nod of his head.

“I hope you’re not having a hard time adjusting,” the Prime Minster said, thinking of his first days on the job.

“It hasn’t been too bad so far,” Minister Lovegood said. “The most remarkable thing was the party with the extradimensional ponies.”

“Extradimensional ponies?”

“Yes, the pink one hosted an exceptional affair. You should try some of her cupcakes, very tasty.” Minister Lovegood nodded his head.

“Cupcakes?” The Prime Minister blinked.

“Yes, she’s a wonderfully talented baker.”

“A pink pony baker?”

“Yes,” Minister Lovegood confirmed. “I do believe her name was Pinkie Pie.”

The Prime Minister kept a straight face.

“Admittedly, the party was for one of my daughter’s friends and was unrelated to my new job.”

“I see,” the Prime Minister said. As much as he liked his wizarding counterpart, the polite version of the Prime Minister's assessment of Lovegood's sanity could be condensed into two words: oh, fudge.





In the throne room in Canterlot Castle, a winged intruder breached the wards that were supposed to keep Princess Celestia's meeting private. Smiling, she studied her guest's shocked expression as the owl perched on the back of her throne and offered a scroll. The solar princess retrieved the scroll with her magic, unrolling it at a comfortable reading height.

Her guest asked, "Auntie, what's an owl doing in your throne room?"

"Delivering a message from your favorite foalsitting assignment."

"They're all my favorites."

"Twilight is out visiting somewhere near where the Cutie Mark Crusaders are going to school, without Spike." With a hint of an evil grin, Celestia asked, "Cadance, would you object to giving Twilight one of your tail hairs?"

Cadance blinked at Celestia in disbelief. She looked back at her tail, holding it against her body protectively, and then looked back at Celestia. The pink alicorn relaxed. "Suuuure. I don't see why not. Let me go get my brush. . . . EEK!" Cadance massaged her dock with a wingtip. "Or, you could just pluck one. That would work just as well."

“Thank you,” Princess Celestia said as she placed her booty in a parchment tube and sealed its ends with wax.





A visitor to Olivander's shop would have been greeted with a sight often repeated before the beginning of the term at Hogwarts. Open boxes were everywhere, their contents strewn about haphazardly. Heedless of the mess, the shop owner was grinning like a mad man. “Silver lime. Eight inches Welsh heartstring,” he said, handing an elegantly-carved wand to the green-haired woman. “A trusty, well-rounded specimen.”

Lyra enthusiastically flourished the next test subject, causing a small sputtering yellow orb of light to fall from its tip.

“No.” The wand maker snatched it from her hands. “You are a difficult one, aren’t you?” he said, relishing the challenge.

“I don’t mean to be,” Lyra replied, also enjoying the experience.

“It’s refreshing to have a riddle. Try this one.” Olivander, unperturbed, presented another wand. “Twelve and three quarters inches. Hornbeam with unicorn hair. Not a wand for someone who likes to leave doors unopened.”

This time, when Lyra waved the wand, it radiated a golden glow that enclosed her hand like a glove. Finally, a satisfied look crossed her face.

“Perfect.” Olivander beamed. “You’ve been chosen by a particularly loyal wand. Not as notable as your friend’s, but extremely loyal, nonetheless.”

Punctuating his words, Olivander’s owl flew into the room and landed next to Twilight. Its return was a complete surprise since the woman had only asked to borrow it ten minutes prior, and he hadn’t expected for it to return for a good amount of time since she said she was sending it to her homeland. He sincerely did not want to upset her by denying her request.

Twilight accepted the scroll from the owl. “Thank you.” she said, politely acknowledging the bird. She slipped the clip from the scroll and read the message as she held the tube it contained. When she finished, she smiled and handed the clip and the tube to the wand maker. "This tube has a replacement hair from Princess Celestia, so you'll still be able to complete your commission for Scootaloo. It also contains a hair from Princess Cadance. Princess Celestia offers you this clip and Princess Cadence's hair as a gesture of goodwill. By the way, Cadance is the Princess of Love."

Olivander gave a sigh of relief as he accepted the offerings. He was a wizard of his word, but he could not stand to separate a wand from one it had chosen. He had been explicitly instructed to return any surplus reagents from the construction of Scootaloo's wand, so making two wands from it would have been unthinkable. With a substitute provided by the original source, he could now satisfy all parties, including himself.

The wand maker weighed the clip in his hand. The disk embossed with the sun symbol was solid gold. The real treasure, however, was inside the parchment tube. He peeled back just enough of the paper to inspect the contents. He could feel the power radiating from both. "These fit the bill nicely," he said. "I accept the replacement material and the compensation. I shall not be requiring that oath after all."





This was one of Professor Flitwick's favorite parts about teaching first-years. He smiled encouragingly at his class as the first half of double charms neared its end. Like every class before them in every year that he had taught, these students were predisposed to taking to the second charm like fishes to water. There was just something about the mischievous charm that made its mastery effortless.

The time had come to let the students practice their new-found skill. Feigning concentration, Flitwick turned to his desk, pretending to study the titles as he presented his back to the class. Like clockwork, the stinging hexes started flying, and there was more than one "OW!" in protest. Students never changed.

Suddenly, something sailed over his head and landed on his desk with a heavy thump, knocking several of his tomes off the workspace.

Flitwick checked on the poor Ravenclaw girl who had had the wind knocked out of her. He turned to glare at the rest of the class. “Well?” he demanded.

“She cast that spell at Draco,” Silver Spoon explained.

“But I missed,” the girl on the desk wailed, regaining her breath.

“Which is why you didn’t go out the window,” Silver Spoon replied with a smirk.

“Ten points from Slytherin,” Professor Flitwick snapped, “and detention.”

While the rest of the students marveled at Professor Flitwick’s ability to channel Professor Snape, Silver Spoon retook her seat with a nod of acceptance. She had made her point with her perfect overhoof lob.





The Gryffindor herd watched as Hagrid set down a heavy-lidded barrel in an alcove of the hallway. They had passed several similar containers on their way to their second class and discovered no clue to what they may contain.

“Hello Hagrid,” they intoned when the load was on the floor.

“Hello Harry, an’ company,” Hagrid said, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Staying out o’ trouble I hope?”

“Yes,” they replied with their hands behind their backs.

“Hagrid, what’s in the barrels?” Harry asked.

“Oh, this?” Hagrid said, prodding the barrel with a foot. “This here be tree sap. Th’ headmaster thinks it wouldn’t be a bad job to have some handy, what with that prophecy Professor Trelawney done give th’ other day.”

The others held their ears as Sweetie Belle demonstrated the Royal Canterlot Voice.

After the other girl’s outburst, Parvati turned to Sweetie Belle and said. “You know, that is starting to become your catchphrase.”

“Which reminds me,” Hermione added, “don’t forget you have to issue a formal apology at supper tonight.”

“What’s the matter with you two?” Dean asked, nudging Apple Bloom then Scootaloo. “You look like you’ve seen a . . .” He stopped to review his words. “You know what? All things considered, I have no idea how to finish that sentence.”

“Juxbird.” Luna helpfully suggested. "Definitely juxbird."





Arthur Weasley had barely passed beyond the marble steps of Gringotts when a shock of mint green hair caught his attention. The dark purple hair next to it was further confirmation that he had spotted his quarry. As he moved to intercept, they turned toward him. It seemed that he had timed his exit perfectly. "Ladies," he greeted.

“Hello Mr. Weasley,” Emma said. “Tag, you're it. If you wouldn’t mind showing them the bookstore, I have something I'd like to check on in the bank.”

“Where would you like to meet when you’re done?” Arthur asked as he studied the disquieting smiles that Emma's companions gave.

Emma shook her head dismissively. "Don't worry about me. I know you'll still be in the bookstore when I'm finished."

“Are you sure? There was a long line.”

“Trust me,” Emma replied. “It’s a safe bet.”





The prospect of avoiding Professor Binns kept the Gryffindor herd relatively quiet as they waited at their desks for Ms. Weiss to arrive. Somehow, studying history with a live teacher seemed more attractive than living history with a dead teacher. A familiar owl seemed to come from nowhere and make a perfect two-point landing on Sweetie Belle's desk.

"Owlowicious?" asked the girl.

"Who," confirmed the owl as he dropped a scroll in front of her.

Sweetie Belle unwrapped the missive and absently stroked the owl's head before the bird left in the same manner in which it had arrived.

“What is it?” asked Hermione.

"A letter from my sister," replied Sweetie. "Apple Bloom, Fluffy was terrorizing everypony at the schoolhouse this morning.”

“Doh!” said Apple Bloom.

“Oh no,” Sweetie said as she continued to read.

“He didn’t hurt anypony, did he?” Scootaloo fearfully asked.

“No,” Sweetie said, digging in her bag for a blank scroll, “but Rarity overheard Berry Punch complaining about somepony drinking all fourteen bottles of her private reserve.”

“You don’t think . . .” Neville started to ask.

“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances,” Sweetie said as she started to pen a letter.





Dylan found himself flummoxed by what he assumed was his latest customer. With all of the questions she was asking, he wasn't sure whether the woman was there to purchase a trunk or to petition to be his apprentice. He stole an occasional glance at Arthur Weasley, who had escorted both her and her green-haired companion. The shrugs he received in return did nothing to clarify the situation.

It soon became apparent that both women had solid grounding in magical theory, albeit from a school whose teachings were somewhat skewed. Several of his answers had elicited cries of surprise from the purple-haired woman and her green-haired companion. If he were completely honest with himself, he was learning as much as he was teaching. Their questions and infrequent answers sparked new ideas that he would have to test.

Taking in her purple and pink hair, a sudden thought crossed his mind. “Would you happen to be Mrs. Rarity Belle by any chance?” he asked when she stopped for a breath.

“No,” she said. “My name is Twilight Sparkle. Rarity is one of my good friends.”

“Ah, so that’s how you’ve heard of my wares and why you are so curious. You’ve seen the trunk I made for her.”

“Yes, I am well acquainted with George.”

“George?”

“Her chest,” Twilight answered.

“She named her trunk ‘George’?”

“Yes,” Twilight confirmed.

“Seriously?” Dylan asked skeptically.

“Where?!” Twilight loudly demanded pivoting to scan the entrance of the shop.

“Relax, Twilight.” The green haired woman coaxed. “He said 'seriously', not 'Sirius'.”

“Oh.” Twilight visibly wilted.

“She is obsessive,” Arthur noted, joining the conversation for the first time.

“No, she’s Twilight,” the green haired woman corrected. “Obsessive Compulsive was a classmate of ours, though.”

“Seriously?” Arthur asked, taken aback slightly.

“Where?!”

“Twilight, knock it off. Yes, she used to go around and rearrange every desk in the classrooms. The messier you left yours, the more likely she’d have a fit and rush to organize it.”

“You can't be serious.” Arthur smirked.

“Where?!”

“You did that one on purpose.” Arthur received a scowl from the green-haired woman.

“I’m not going to fall for that one again.” Twilight pouted.

“Seriously? You’re not?” Dylan ventured, only to receive a scowl from Twilight. He was spared a retaliatory comment by a ball of flames appearing in the middle of his store.

“Hello, Philomena,” Twilight greeted while Dylan gaped at the firebird. “What brings you here? We’re not ready to go home quite yet.”

Philomena trilled her own greeting and offered a tightly rolled scroll held in her left claw.

“Is that for me?” Twilight asked.

Philomena shook her head.

“For Arthur Weasley? Lyra? The shopkeeper?” The last received a nod.

“For me?” Dylan reached hesitantly for the scroll.

“Are the girls staying out of trouble?” Twilight asked while Dylan read the missive.

Instead of nodding or shaking her head, Philomena tilted her head to the side and gave an ambiguous trill.

“At least tell me there haven’t been any large explosions.” Twilight sighed.

Philomena nodded her head happily.

“Well, this is problematic,” Dylan said, rolling the scroll back up.

“What’s wrong?” Lyra asked.

“Sweetie wants me to buy fourteen bottles of the best liquor I can get and send it to a friend whom she says she owes it to.” Dylan grimaced. “I’m not going to supply alcohol to children.”

“Which friend?” Arthur asked cautiously.

“Someone named Berry Punch.”

“Berry Punch?” Twilight said, “She’s an adult.”

“Why would the Crusaders owe Berry fourteen bottles of booze?” Lyra asked.

“I’m positive I don’t want to know,” Twilight answered. Turning to Dylan, she said, "I can authorize the purchase so long as you can ensure it goes directly to Berry Punch. Anyway, I’d like to commission a trunk. Then, we can go to the bookstore.” The last was said with more than a little enthusiasm.





To Emma's dismay, the line in Gringotts was every bit as long and slow as any nightmare from the DVLA. She had resorted to her old trick of chatting with the other customers and subtly promoting her practice. When she finally made it to the front of the queue, she found herself in front of the same goblin who had served Twilight earlier.

“Hello,” she said, flashing a smile.

The goblin hesitated before responding, puzzled. This was the second time today a witch had greeted him cordially that morning, and he recognized her as a friend of the one who had done so earlier. “May I help you?” he said neutrally.

“I’m not sure,” Emma said. “I was told to inquire at the bank regarding any claims I may have to the Lestrange vaults.”

“You are a Lestrange?” Despite her unfamiliarity with goblin facial expressions, Emma clearly read disgust on the teller's face.

“One of my ancestors was,” Emma said with a pleasant demeanor that only a dentist accustomed to surly patients could achieve. “I have no idea how close of a connection I have.”

Without taking his eyes off the witch, the teller waved a runner forward. “Take her to see Marbletoe.”

“Thank you for your time,” Emma said politely.

“You’re welcome,” the teller replied. After a small pause, he added, “May your vaults overflow with the gold of your enemies.”

Emma also paused before saying, “May you enjoy the spoils of many hard-fought battles.”

“Close enough,” the teller grunted with a fierce smile. Goblins had more than enough pointed teeth to make a shark look friendly. The word "pleasant" could not honestly be associated with them unless prefixed with "un".

Once again, Emma found herself following a runner into yet another office. This time, she was ushered in without the runner following.

“What do you want?” the goblin at the desk demanded as he looked up from the paperwork he was scrutinizing.

“If I may have a moment of your time Mr. Marbletoe,” Emma said, “I would like to check on any claims I have to the vaults of my ancestor.”

“Time is money. Which ancestor?”

“Lucinda Kirkland, née Lestrange,” Emma replied.

“Reactivating that account would be profitable,” the goblin said, getting out of his chair. He walked over to a cabinet. Inside, Emma saw a large array of small crystal vials, one of which Marbletoe retrieved. He then went to a stone basin mounted on a short pedestal where he poured out a pale blue fluid from the vial.

“Put some of your blood in,” he commanded, handing Emma a small golden dagger.

“How much?” Emma asked.

“A few drops, or slit your wrist. Either works.” The pointy smile he gave would give a barracuda nightmares.

Wordlessly, Emma ran the edge of the surprisingly sharp blade over the tip of her index finger before squeezing a few drops of blood into the basin. After looking in the vessel, Marbletoe snorted before marching back to his desk. After sitting, he opened a drawer and removed a key. “This is your yearly stipend.” He said placing it on the desk for her.

“So, I have some claim?” Emma ventured.

“You wouldn’t be receiving a stipend otherwise.”

“What’s the extent of my claim?” Emma asked.

“Are you married?”

“Yes.”

“Your husband will have to come in for that conversation.”

Emma winced. “Isn’t that misogynistic?”

“Yes.” Marbletoe said, dismissing her.





Under the best of circumstances, a student visit to Professor Snape's office was not a pleasant experience. This was far from the best. “I do not appreciate being summoned to deal with a disciplinary problem in the middle of the day.” Professor Snape loomed over the student his prefect had escorted into his presence. He was pleased to see that despite the menace he was radiating, the first year was not backing down even as the prefect noticeably shied away. “On top of that, you have managed to anger the most easy-going professor in the entire school, on your first day, no less.”

“She was trying to hurt Draco Malfoy,” Silver Spoon said defiantly.

“With a stinging hex.” Professor Snape sneered.

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t you say you overreacted?” Professor Snape hauntingly asked.

“It got the message across, Silver Spoon answered.

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “Should I anticipate a similar message for the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors?”

“If the Hufflepuffs try something funny, yes,” Silver Spoon said. “Absolutely, not touching any of the Gryffindors, though.”

Snape cocked an eyebrow. “Why discriminate?”

“I would have put that girl through a window if she hurt Draco Malfoy.” Silver Spoon shuddered. “If I hurt one of hers, Apple Bloom will put me through a wall, and those stones look thick.”

Snape sighed before turning his attention to the waiting prefect. “Go to class.” He waited for the door to shut behind the seventh-year before turning back to the first-year.

“Are you telling me you’d kill someone over hitting Draco with a stinging hex?”

Aghast, Silver Spoon exclaimed, “No!” She emphatically shook her head.

“You said you’d throw her out the window.”

“Yes,” Silver Spoon answered.

“You were on the third floor,” Snape stated.

“Yes, I know.”

“What do you suppose would have happened to her when she reached the ground?”

“She’d bounce?” Silver Spoon guessed.

“How long do you think it would take her to recover?” Snape demanded.

“Even a unicorn would only take a minute, tops, but she’d have bruises to remember the trip.” Silver Spoon's bluster lost some of its bite.

“She would have been hospitalized if she survived the fall,” Snape corrected.

“It’s only three stories,” Silver Spoon objected.

“It would appear that witches are more delicate than ponies.” Snape firmly said, “Unless you intend to kill, the display you put on in Charms class is the upper limit of any and all hostilities. Keep your responses reasonable and proportionate. A stinging hex for a stinging hex would have been appropriate. What you did was threaten to kill anyone who looks at Draco crossly.”

“I . . . I didn’t mean to,” Silver Spoon stuttered.

“You will make haste and offer Professor Flitwick and Miss Abrams each a sincere apology.”

“Yes, sir,” Silver Spoon sniffed.

“Draco is not a glass doll. Cease being so aggressive.”

“You just told me humans are more fragile than ponies. I have to protect him.”

“Cease being so aggressive, or you will be sent home where you will not be able to protect him. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Silver Spoon relented.

“In the future, I expect more subtlety. Do not make me think you should have been sorted into Gryffindor.”

“Yes, sir.”

“After your detention with Professor Flitwick you shall be serving detention with me every night for the rest of this month and all of the next.”

“Yes, sir.” Silver Spoon sagged.

“You have to let him make his own mistakes. You have to let him fight his own battles. Otherwise, he will never grow strong. Now, go to class.”

“Yes, sir.” Silver Spoon said and fled the office.

Snape looked at the closed door and sighed. He needed to have a talk with Minerva before he could return to his own class.





Emma wandered into the zone of silence that Flourish and Blotts had become and made a beeline for Arthur. “How’s it going?”

“They’ve got the poor witch shrinking half the store so they can carry it with them.” Arthur pointed at the overworked witch working on stacks of packaged books.

“Only half the store?” Emma inquired.

“Yes.”

“Then I have some time while they get started on the other half. I’m going to go see about buying an owl.”





Mid-morning in Ponyville's marketplace was generally a quiet time between the onslaught of early birds and the lunch rush. A bird of a more nocturnal nature came on scene.

“Is that an owl?” Carrot Top craned her neck around to look at the bird that had just landed on her back.

“Sure, looks like one to me,” Rose Luck said peering at the bird. “It’s got a package.”

“For me?” Carrot Top asked.

“No, it looks like it's for Berry.” Rose Luck said, squinting.

“For me?” Berry Punch echoed Carrot Top.

“Yup, that’s what it says,” Rose Luck confirmed.

“Grab it for me, would ya?” Berry prompted.

“I’m not putting my face anywhere near those claws.” Rose Luck informed her.

“Applejack did it without any problems,” Berry Punch reminded her.

“Get your own package.”

“Coward.” Berry said getting the package on her own.

“Make that coward without a scratched face.” Rose Luck retorted.

“I wish you wouldn’t say that when it's on my back.” Carrot Top whined.

“Who,” the owl said, turning its head to look Carrot Top in the eye.

“You really know how to make a girl feel warm and fuzzy,” she snarked.

“Now what?” Berry Punch placed the package on the ground.

“When Applejack got a package from an owl, she had Rarity tap it with her horn.” Carrot Top suggested as the owl lifted off her back.

Berry Punch looked around at the ponies watching her and her friends. “Minuette, come here a sec.”

Minuette cautiously walked forward. “Is that a chest?”

“Looks too square to be a chest,” Rose Luck observed.

“Just so you know. If it’s a chest, I’m running for it,” Minuette informed everypony.

“You and everypony else,” Carrot Top agreed.

“Remember, you don’t have to be the fastest pony, just not the slowest,” Berry Punch commented.

“You’re not making me want to help you,” Minuette said.

“Just tap it with your horn please.” Berry prompted.

Minuette lowered her head and prodded the small object with her horn.

“Rarity tapped the last one repeatedly a couple times,” Rose Luck noted.

“You want to do this?” Minuette growled.

“No horn,” Rose Luck reminded her.

Sighing, Minuette pretended to be a woodpecker, rapidly striking the package with the tip of her horn.

“That did it,” Carrot Top said as the package started to grow.

“Well, it’s still too small to be a chest.” Berry Punch tugged at the rope wrapping the package. “Anypony have a pair of scissors?”

“Pinkie’s not here,” Carrot Top said.

“Step back.” Minuette aimed her horn at the rope and a thin stream light leapt out, neatly cutting the cord.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could do that.” Rose Luck whistled.

“Twilight wasn’t the only one to attend Celestia’s school,” Minuette said, watching Berry unwrap a sturdy wooden box.

“Is that a chest?” Carrot Top asked worriedly.

“It’s just a box,” Rose Luck said. “No hinges or lock.”

“Is it a pony eating box?” Carrot Top asked.

Everypony took several steps backwards. They spent the next five minutes watching the box for movement.

Carrot Top poked Berry Punch. “Well, go on. Open it.”

“Don’t wanna,” Berry Punch said.

“Who’s the chicken now?” Rose Luck asked.

“Bagawk!” Berry replied.

“Get over there!” Carrot Top shoved Berry toward the box. Berry would have shot her a dirty look if it didn’t mean she’d have to take her eyes off the box to do so.

Carefully, Berry Punch reached out and tapped the box with a hoof. Luckily, it didn’t move. Feeling more confident, she tapped it harder.

“Open it already,” somepony from the watching crowd called out.

Sighing, Berry tried to lift the lid. “It's nailed shut,” she said.

“Are you an earth pony or not?” Carrot Top chided. “Put some effort into it.”

Berry Punch stood on her hind legs and pried the lid off with her forehooves. “What have we here?” she asked once the lid was clear. With those words she plunged her head into the box and pulled out a bottle.

“Are you telling me we got all worked up over a box full of wine?” Carrot Top asked, trotting over.

“No.” Minuette squinted her eyes to read the label. “This is McCartin’s Finest and Most Potent Firewhisky.”

“What’s that?” Rose Luck asked.

“I don’t know,” Berry Punch said around the bottle she was holding in her mouth, “but it has the word ‘whisky’ in it so it can’t be bad.”

“There’s just over a dozen bottles still in here.” Carrot Top looked in the opened box.

“Welp, let’s see what we got.” Berry held the bottle in her forehooves as she tugged the cork out with her teeth. Once it was clear, she took a cautious sniff only to pull away quickly, closing her eyes and scrunching her muzzle.

“That can’t be a good sign,” Minuette said.

After she recovered, Berry Punch saluted to the bottle and said, “Bottoms up.” She then proceeded to take a pull. Her next action was to gasp and drop the bottle, which miraculously landed upright without spilling a drop.

“I think steam is coming out of her ears.” Carrot Top observed.

“Yup, that’s steam alright.” Rose Luck confirmed.

Abruptly, Berry Punch started running around in a circle, spewing flames from her mouth. “IT BURNS BURNS BURNS! IT BURNS BURNS BURNS!” The mare looked much like a jalopy on its last legs as steam spewed from every orifice and an assortment of pops and bangs came from her body, including a few backfires. Then, just as abruptly as she started, she skidded to a stop and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Berry? Are you okay?” Rose Luck anxiously asked.

“Wow.” Berry Punch exhaled loudly. “That is goooooood. Like really really good. You have got to try it.”

Carrot Top and Rose Luck looked at each other, looked at the open bottle, then looked at Minuette.

Minuette shook her head.

Carrot Top nudged Rose Luck with an elbow.

Rose Luck returned the favor.

The two looked at the open bottle then stared at Minuette again.

Minuette shook her head a second time.

“Oh, what the hay,” Carrot Top said reaching for the bottle. “You only live once.”
> Chapter 60: Defense and Defenestration
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

If Amelia Bones were perfectly honest, she would admit that her favorite pastime was the muggle sport of angling. There was something to be said about making the wariest of opponents unwittingly do your bidding. The hardest catches were the sweetest, and this one promised to be sugar drenched in honey.

Her current quarry would ordinarily be a shaker, a fish not worth keeping. A good auror had to have complete dedication, and any cadet whose commitment wavered was normally dismissed without hesitation. In the field, a split-second of doubt could be the difference between life and death not only for the uncommitted, but for their entire team as well. It was far better to be short-staffed with the dedicated than to bolster the ranks with the wavering. This time, however, circumstances dictated that she make an exception.

Sticking his head and torso into the office, Rufus Scrimgeour said. “She’s here.”

Without looking up from her ever-increasing pile of paperwork, Amelia gestured for him to usher the patsy in. Wordlessly, he retreated and was replaced by a young woman sporting scandalously pink hair and wearing the uniform robe of a junior auror.

“Tonks. Please have a seat,” Amelia said, motioning to an empty chair before her desk.

A soft rustling was the only sound indicating that her invitation was received.

“This is an unwelcome surprise.” Amelia tapped a paper on her desk before fixing her gaze on Nymphadora. “We can ill afford to let such a promising auror slip through our fingers. Talent such as yours is rare to come by.”

It was evident this was the wrong lure. Nymphadora said straighter and glared at her superior. "Don't tell me you want me for my body, too," she growled. "I'm much more than a mere metamorphmagus."

“Much more,” Amelia agreed. “However, that doesn’t change the fact that you are one. Your potential is something that this department cannot easily ignore.”

Nymphadora’s eyes softened, and she looked away from her superior. “I understand, but . . .”

“But?”

“But I no longer need to put up with this toxic environment.” Nymphadora shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. “I don't need to be where, no matter how well I do, I'm passed over for advancement because of my heritage.”

Amelia frowned. "You and I both know that such discrimination is illegal."

"You and I both know that proving that discrimination is impossible."

It was time for fresh bait. "Your abilities should take you far in this department."

“I’d have to fight tooth and nail just to keep from falling behind,” Nymphadora countered. “Before, I had no choice. I needed to put food on the table somehow, and this job was my dream.”

“Was?”

“All my life, I knew where I stood. Purebloods would make my life harder no matter what path I took.” Nymphadora grimaced. “Now I have the chance to tell them to bugger off. They can find someone else to be their whipping boy.”

The chum had to be ladled sparingly to attract without drawing suspicion. “I will not suffer such a mindset among my subordinates,” Amelia growled.

“You can’t be everywhere all the time.” Nymphadora sadly shook her head. “Even when you try, you can’t protect us if the Minister gets a bee in his bonnet. Goodman was proof of that.”

“Minister Lovegood won’t be so easily swayed.” Amelia gritted her teeth over the reminder of her impotence. “The new makeup of the Wizengamot is also in your favor.”

“True,” Nymphadora allowed. “Being accepted back into the fold of the Black family put paid too much of the harassment I would have had to endure. Unless attitudes change, anything the Ministry does is just a drop in the bucket.”

“You seem to have your mind made up,” Amelia observed.

“Now that I don’t have to enter the workforce right away to avoid being a burden on my parents, I want to travel,” Nymphadora said. “Maybe, I’ll decide on a career later.”

Amelia sighed. It was time for the live bait. “I can’t say that I’m happy to hear that from you. I would much rather have you attached to the Ministry, but I can’t deny that the incentives are no longer there.”

Nymphadora nodded.

“Since you mentioned traveling, I have an opportunity that might interest you.”

“Oh?” Nymphadora tilted her head curiously.

“The Minister is looking for volunteers to attend school in Equestria as part of an exchange program. I think you would be a perfect candidate.”

“Equestria?”

“A new magical community that has recently introduced themselves to the world.” Amelia patiently watched the bobber tremble. “You would have the opportunity to learn new magics while representing Magical Britain. This would give you unique qualifications in whatever field you choose. I can't even begin to describe the sort of leverage that would give you within the Ministry should you decide to come back to the fold."

“Tell me more.” Intrigued, Nymphadora leaned forward in her chair.

With a smile, Amelia set the hook.





The smell of desperation was a constant in St. Mungo's. Milo Yates had found that in his years as a researcher, it never seemed to leave him, no matter how thoroughly he washed. Still, he mentally kicked himself for not noticing the sudden increase in its concentration outside his office. When he opened the door, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of seven raggedy creatures staring at him with hungry eyes. The three men formed a complementary set, with tall, medium, and short. Their unkempt hair and whiskers, coupled with their threadbare clothing made them look like Morlocks straight from central casting. The three women in the group were well-groomed, but there was something obviously feral in their appearance. The younger two were young adults who wore what seemed to be hand-me-downs from three generations earlier, while the eldest was a senior citizen, stooped with age, dressed in robes that might be passable on a particularly relaxed casual Friday.

The final visitor was a small boy with wild brown hair, no more than ten years old by the looks of him. In the uninhibited fashion of children everywhere, he ended the impromptu staring concert with brutal bluntness. "You have a cure for werewolves."

Milo quipped, "Smoke and saltpeter really brings out the flavor." He studied the glares of his visitors. "Oh, you mean undoing lycanthropy."

“You must have a cure,” one of the younger women emphasized. She was pleasant to look at, with shoulder-length brown hair. “My cousin at the Ministry said you submitted paperwork saying you’ve found a cure. Please tell me you’ve got the cure.”

Milo placed a somber look on his face before crossing the room to lean against his desk. “I’m afraid this is a bit premature.” He said, “Currently, we are testing a potion that promises to remove lycanthropy. However, we are still in the very early stages, and there have been some . . . side effects.”

“I don’t care how early the stages are,” the tallest man said. “If they went through a full moon without losing themselves to the madness, we need that cure.”

“My Ernie will be able to go to Hogwarts next year.” The old lady smiled, placing her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He’ll be able to associate with children his own age.”

Milo took a deep breath before saying. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. While it’s true we have one apparent success, he has yet to go through another full moon without a transformation. We need to see how he reacts next month before a true assessment of the effectiveness of the treatment can be made.”

“But you cured him,” the woman with shoulder-length hair insisted.

“We hope so,” Milo admitted. “It is too early to make any promises. He's made it through only one full moon.”

“That is more hope than I ever thought we’d have,” the shortest man said. “When will it be available, and how much is it going to cost?”

“Marvin!” the old woman said. “Behave.”

“It’s an important question,” Marvin objected. “They aren’t just going to give the stuff away.”

"It's too early to even think about the cost," Milo said. "I've yet to see the ingredient list, and I haven't learned how difficult it is to process." Milo turned to the old woman. "If it were up to me, I'd make this a matter of public health. I wouldn't be surprised if the Ministry didn't track down everyone affected and force it down their throats."

“People will be lining up for the cure,” Marvin said.

“In fact, that’s why we are here now,” said the last woman.

"I don't have any samples now. I don't know the brewer; this was given to me by an intermediary. If I had any on hand, I'd be happy to give it to you, but I don't even have any more information. I'm afraid I have nothing to give you at this time."

“Dear boy,” the old woman said, “Marvin was rude in the way he said it, but you have already given us something invaluable. You have given us hope.”





As she looked over the meeting room, Celestia realized that it was the product of every contractor's bane, requirements creep. She had specifically said that she wanted something functional, something simple. It had begun almost as she had hoped. Drab walls did nothing to detract from a simple round table surrounded by tree stumps planed smooth. Distressed pine planks formed the floor, and the chandelier was rough-hewn from iron. As years passed, the walls gained color. Paintings sprang up like dandelions. Rough pine boards were replaced by polished hardwoods that were later covered with plush carpets. Stumps gave way to padded ottomans which were eventually replaced by plush thrones. The simple table begat a marble masterpiece that begat a marvel of metal and magic. Iron chandelier morphed into elegant silver, only to be replaced by . . . something. Celestia wasn’t sure what to call it, but it was bright, covered in crystals, and her staff assured her that it was thoroughly stylish.

It was not the decor that bothered Celestia. Rather, it was the unintended message that was conveyed. Everything about the room now said, "Princess Celestia is better than you." That made everypony even more self-conscious, fearful of the ruin the solar princess could unleash if displeased. Fortunately, although they were not immune to the effect, scholars from her school could easily be distracted from it with one simple question: What have you learned?

The room was abuzz with excitement. They had experimented with bona fide alien technology. The trunks had sparked a frenzy among the academic community, introducing it to concepts heretofore unimagined in Equestria. When one of the reverse-engineering team accidentally found a way to reset the access list, ripples of excitement spread throughout the entire community with ideas sprouting for both exploitation and improvement.

This time, the icebreaker had come with remarkable swiftness. Celestia had scarcely asked her question when the discussion burst forth in full gallop. Talk had turned to the best way of multilayering subspace matrices. The debate hinged on whether the current use of alpha overlays to interleave linear inclination arrays back on themselves was less efficient than logarithmic approaches that selectively concentrated on fine details at the expense of non-critical features.

The discussion turned to orthogonality when they observed three owls flying in from nowhere. The trio skillfully carried a big beige banker bag between them

“What’s this?” Square Mind asked as she watched the owls deposit the bag on the table before Princess Celestia.

“I’m not sure,” Celestia said as she used her magic to untie the owls from their burden. “It was my understanding that deliveries were customarily made with shrunken cargo. It would seem somehuman decided to forgo the practice.” Once the last bird was free, she addressed them. “If you seek out Splendid Taste in the kitchens, he has standing orders to provide a repast as a thank you for your efforts.”

“Who!” The owls seemed to perk up at the statement before lifting off the table and flying out a hastily-opened window.

Remembering the unlocking sequence for the trunk, Celestia tapped the catch on the bag thrice with her horn. The bag's top flap neatly rolled back. Floating the bag over, Celestia peered inside. With a smile, she set the bag down and emptied it with her magic, withdrawing a stack of domino-sized bundles far too large to fit inside the volume taken by the exterior of the bag. She said, "Ah, I see. They sent multiple deliveries at once."

“More artifacts from the human world?” Slanted Insight hopefully asked, tapping one of the packages with his hoof.

“Tap one with your horn three times to find out,” Celestia said with a teasing tone.

“You do know that I remember what happened the last time you asked me to do that,” Slanted said, swiftly pulling his appendage back.

“Are you telling me that you’d willingly leave here without finding out what was sent?” Celestia said with a sly smile.

Sighing, Slanted levitated one package to his position at the table and performed the required ritual. He was rewarded by a pony-sized bundle.

“There, I unshrunk it.” He turned to the amethyst-colored unicorn on his left. “You may have the honor of opening it, Criteria.”

Lacking her colleague’s caution, Criteria used her magic to tear the paper from the delivery with the enthusiasm of a filly on Hearthwarming's

“Squeeeeeeeeeee!” The majority of the ponies gathered around the pile, echoing the sentiments like a group of school fillies. Having a fair number of stallions in the group did nothing to dispel the illusion of the best Hearthwarming's reveal in history.

“I see Twilight has found a book store,” Celestia astutely noted.

Slanted wrinkled his nose and shied away before turning to Criteria. “Did you just . . . ?”

“No, I didn’t,” Criteria snapped, cutting him off. “Hurry up and unshrink the next one for me to open.”

“But . . .” Slanted objected.

“Shut up, get your mind out of the gutter, and unshrink the next one,” Criteria said through gritted teeth.

Shrewd Puzzle called out from down the table, “Yes, hurry up. Some of us are getting excited over here.”

“Apparently, over here, too,” Slanted insisted.

A heavy book, clutched in Criteria’s magic slammed into the side of his head. “I SAID ‘UNSHRINK THE NEXT ONE’!”





The Great Hall was buzzing with curiosity when the students saw that Professor McGonagall was approaching her house's table instead of taking her seat for lunch at the head table. The eye rolls were audible when they saw that the first-years were again the center of attention. Stopping behind the reddest of redheads, Professor McGonagall said somberly, "Miss Bloom, please come with me. There is something we need to discuss."

Apple Bloom looked at the Gryffindor Head of House and gulped. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without prompting, the entire first year herd stood to follow.

“Just Miss Bloom,” Professor McGonagall directed.

“But,” Harry said.

“Just Miss Bloom,” Professor McGonagall repeated, marveling at the solidarity her first years were displaying. “She is not in trouble.”

The children all looked to Apple Bloom for confirmation. A bob of a pink ribbon had them retaking their seats.

Less than a minute later, Apple Bloom was alone with Professor McGonagall in the same room that she had conversed with Professor Snape.

“There is no need to be nervous,” Professor McGonagall said, closing the door.

Apple Bloom held her tongue and waited for the other horseshoe to drop.

“Have you heard about the incident involving Miss Spoon earlier today?” Minerva asked.

“No ma’am.” Apple Bloom tilted her head in confusion. “Shouldn’t y'all be talking to Diamond Tiara about it?”

“Professor Snape is capable of handling matters for his house,” Minerva said somberly. “Although paperwork was submitted to circumvent any involvement from the headmaster, it was not serious enough to involve the other heads of house.”

“Oh?”

“Miss Spoon took offense when a member of Ravenclaw took it upon herself to try to target Mr. Malfoy with a stinging hex.” Minerva fixed Apple Bloom with a firm stare. “Miss Spoon tossed Miss Abrams clear across the Charms classroom in retaliation.”

“Oh,” Apple Bloom said again, this time nodding her head.

“It has been suggested that you might do something similar.”

“No, ma’am.” Apple Bloom shook her head. “Ah’ve been here long enough to know that girls do that all the time when colts misbehave. It’s harmless.”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall said. “What would you do if someone tries, for example, to seriously hurt Mr. Potter?”

Apple Bloom scowled. “Ah’d put them through a wall.”

“Don’t you think that response is excessive?” It was Professor McGonagall’s turn to scowl.

“If’n they try to hurt Harry, no.” Apple Bloom said, firmly planting her feet.

“You’d put them through a wall?” Professor McGonagall challenged.

“They're not that thick,” Apple Bloom clarified.

“You would literally throw someone through a foot-thick stone wall if they tried to hurt Mr. Potter?” Professor McGonagall’s frown deepened.

“Yes, ma’am,” Apple Bloom answered. "They'd only spend a week or so in the hospital, an' they'd learn to leave him alone."

“Miss Bloom, such an action would be immediately fatal to almost anything one could find in the bestiary, let alone a witch or wizard.”

Apple Bloom blinked in surprise. “It would be?”

“Yes, it has become apparent that magical folk are less resilient than ponies.”

“Oh.” Apple Bloom’s lips formed an O.

“It should also be noted that muggles are, in turn, a lot less resilient than magical folk,” Minerva added.

“Oh,” Apple Bloom repeated.

“Do you realize what this means?” Minerva urged.

“Aim for the window?” Apple Bloom ventured.

"It means you must refrain from physical altercations with your fellow students," Minerva firmly corrected. "Compared to your home, this is a cardboard world, and you must learn to respond accordingly." She sighed. "Fighting is strictly prohibited, but I would be a fool to believe that there will never be occasions when children will find that the only way to settle their differences. I can tell that wanton violence is not in your nature, but you have the potential to misjudge the appropriate amount of force for a given situation. Given your inexperience, I ask that you follow the direction of your peers should such an occasion arise."

“Y’all mean, do what Hermione does?”

Professor McGonagall fixed Apple Bloom with another glare. “Miss Bloom, we are both aware that you chose Miss Granger as an example because you believe she will underreact. Although I would prefer that you’d adopt her approach, I would be naïve to think that you would find that satisfactory. Instead, I will point out that Miss Brown shares your outlook, and she is the one you should mimic.”

“Okay Professor,” Apple Bloom agreed. “Ah don’t want to hurt no one, not more'n they deserve. I sure as sugar don't want to kill no one.”





The fallout of Silver Spoon's actions continued at the Slytherin table. A seventh-year prefect sat down for lunch and immediately said, "Just so you know, Professor Snape is going to declare the first-year Gryffindors unconditionally off-limits."

“You can’t be serious,” his friend said. “Why would he do something like that?”

That end of the Slytherin table went dead silent. Hazing first-years was practically a rite of passage. The prefect reached for a piece of beer-battered cod. "Apparently, Professor Snape hates filling out the paperwork when one of us ends up in the infirmary."





Yet another wizard nearly had a heart attack as he exited the floo in the Leaky Cauldron, only to face a pair of witches with wands drawn. The sheer power emanating from the pair promised an extremely unpleasant encounter. Only when he noticed that the wands were held casually pointed at the ground did he start to calm down. What made thing strange, however, was the fact that each wand was glowing; one was encased in magenta, while the other was wrapped in gold. A standard spell, like Lumos, would have illuminated only the tip. Whatever magic was being used was unfocused, so it should pose no danger.

“Did you get what you wanted that time?” Emma asked as she offered the wizard a smile as explanation.

“Yes.” Twilight grinned. “It is both simple and creative at the same time. This single revelation makes this entire day worthwhile all by itself.”

“Are you saying we could return all of the books to the store, then?” Arthur asked. He received a pair of frowns for his efforts.

“I did promise to reciprocate by sending a like number of books from Equestria,” Twilight murmured.

“The Unspeakables are going to be positively full of beans once we receive those,” Arthur admitted. “There will be some wicked swotting going on.”

“If they are anything like my Hermione, you might want to institute some mandatory time away from the books,” Emma suggested.

“I’m sure we are going to have to do something like that for Twilight, as well,” Lyra said.

“I’m not that bad,” Twilight protested.

Lyra fixed an incredulous look on her and raised an eyebrow.

“Besides,” Twilight huffed, “Princess Celestia made me promise, when the situation is not an emergency, to never spend more than seventy-two percent of any given month reading. What’s worse, if I exceed that limit, I’m restricted to ten percent the following month.”

“Seventy-two percent?” Emma said skeptically. “That’s awfully specific.”

“I do have to sleep occasionally,” Twilight conceded. “Coffee is only effective for so long.”

“Sounds to me like you should just limit the number of books you may read in a month’s time,” Arthur said.

“We had that conversation too,” Twilight admitted. “Those talks broke down when Princess Celestia wouldn’t consider the Encyclopedia Bronconia a single book split into multiple volumes.”

“I remember that,” Lyra interjected. “You used a spell to merge the entire set into one tome. That monstrosity was massive.”

“While I was at it, I really should have thought to resize the pages. It was three and a half ponylengths long.” Twilight sighed.

“You do know they still have it in the library,” Lyra said. “It’s in a room just past the Hoofmanian Culture section.”

“Yes, I know.” Twilight sighed. “Dewy Sight banned me from that area. She can be so mean, sometimes.”

“Does that mean you know something about the books in that same room that run around on a bunch of miniature hooves?” Lyra asked.

“No comment,” Twilight answered.

“What about the one book that keeps spinning a web in the corner?”

“No comment,” Twilight restated.

“How do you manage to get a book to spin a web out of paper fibers?” Lyra persisted.

“Look, I had a brief, yet eventful, foray into the study and practical application of chaos magic. Nothing too spectacular, just a burst of foalish curiosity that quickly burned out,” Twilight muttered.

“What about the book that summons a full course meal every time you turn a page?” Lyra asked. “Dewy keeps that one in a case under lock and key.”

“That was a feasible idea,” Twilight countered.

“I have to admit, that does sound practical,” Emma allowed.

“I thought so. There was just the problem of the cooks complaining about the sporadically vanishing dishes, and the one time I dropped it, that did cause a minor mess. Really, they only had to delay that banquet for a couple hours,” Twilight groused.

“They still let you around books?” Arthur asked.

Twilight sighed. “There was this one book that was enchanted to be mischievous. When the Princess ordered it retrieved from the archives, there was a convoluted series of unbelievable mistakes, and I ended up with it while Princess Celestia received a thesis on macropositioned resonating thaumary clusters. Keep in mind, some books really do have wills of their own, and they love to prey on unsuspecting and impressable young fillies.”

“I can relate to that,” Emma said. “We had a whole shelf of very nasty books stored in a family heirloom for several generations. Luckily, Mr. Discord was there to burn them once we got the chest opened.”

“HE DID WHAT????!!!!!”





Behind the counter of Sugar Cube Corner, Pinkie stopped humming and focused her attention forty-two degrees outwards from south and towards tomorrow. “Wow! I can’t believe I felt that all the way over here.” She whistled.

“Felt what, dearie?” Mrs. Cake asked.

“That ripple,” Pinkie said heading towards the back of the shop. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go bake a ‘pretty please don’t kill Discord in a fit of murderous rage’ cake.”





Barnaby Lee couldn’t believe his luck. The seventh-year had been infuriated when their prefect had announced that he was predicting Professor Snape was putting the first-year Gryffindors off limits, with no reason given. Such an injustice would put his revenge on indefinite hold. The first-years included Harry Potter, the reason his parents were currently in Azkaban. It had been bad enough that the cur never wandered the halls on his own, denying Barnaby the opportunity to catch him alone and unaware. Now, he was to be given immunity. That would be unacceptable. Barnaby’s tendency to lurk and wait for the perfect opportunity would do him no good. The stakes were now too high; he had to act before even his head of house would betray him.

As fortune would have it, he had overheard the shrimps deciding to head back to their tower before their afternoon classes. As much as he hated the Gryffindorish nature of the situation, it was likely to be the only opening he would get. So what if he were outnumbered thirteen to one? They were only weak first-years, barely able to point a wand, let alone cast any attack spells. There was fun to be had, and Barnaby was proficient enough with obliviate. As stealthily as he could manage, he followed the brats, waiting until they left the more heavily-traveled corridors.

The one with the contemptible pink bow led the gaggle. Inconveniently, Harry Potter was almost in the dead center. There were two stragglers. The girl was a small thing from the trivial Brown family, but the boy chatting with her was from a prominent line of blood traitors. Longbottom would do for his initial target.

Unable to wait, Barnaby drew his wand and pointed at his prey and barked. “Horendum digitos.” A small bolt of silvery light leapt from the tip of his weapon, striking the first year. The perfect curse prevented the target from screaming as it convulsed; sparks of energy danced over the body, bringing agony with each touch. The Gryffindors spun in horror, watching their friend fall as Barnaby struck his next target, the mudblood boy, Bean or something like that.

The girl with the bow actually leapt over and cleared her friends with a snarl on her lips. The move left her a perfect target for even an inexperienced duelist. Smiling, Barnaby took aim. “Horenduuuuuurrrk!” 





The four heads of house stood in a courtyard, discussing the apparent overprotectiveness of the Slytherin first-year.

“She did convey an air of sincerity when she apologized,” Filius said. “As appalling as her actions were, I agree she didn’t realize the extent of the damage she could have inflicted. It was a typical Slytherin show of strength.”

“A very literal show of strength,” Pomona said. “Do you think that our Miss Bloom might be capable of hurdling some unlucky fool through a solid stone wall?”

“Her mannerisms suggested it was within the realms of her abilities,” Minerva said. “But she is level-headed enough and now understands she would kill someone if she did that.”

Filius lamented, “We normally have them a couple years before we have to emphasize the potentially lethal nature of their abilities. It looks like we may have to start early with this batch.”

*Crash!!!!*

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Gawking at the now-shattered window in the Gryffindor tower, Pomona said, “Severus, I believe that was one of yours”

Snape sighed. “At least she aimed for the lake. I suspect only his pride will be permanently injured.”

“I’m just glad she kept her promise.” Minerva echoed Snape’s sigh. “The window is a lot softer than the walls.”

Filius looked over to the placard Pomona was holding up. “Are you serious, Pomona? That dive was at least a 6.5.”
> Chapter 61: Playing with Fire
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patience was the watchword on the island that history had forgotten. The signs had been unmistakable. The die had been cast. Now, it was a matter of waiting.

The island's latest resident could have been mistaken for a statue in the same way his colorfully-feathered escorts could have been mistaken for pigeons. A casual observer would have seen birds perched on the head and shoulders of an immobile figure. A closer examination would have revealed a body neither alive nor dead, with a mind still active, focused on one goal. The birds did not defile their perch. They cheerfully chirped and squawked their complete approval of his mission. The perch was all but immobile; only his eyes focused in and out as he stared across the miles, waiting.

His quarry lay somewhere along that bearing. At least that was where it was last detected. The power signature had dropped below the detection threshold, so the fiend could not have travelled far. While the bearing was known, the distance was not. There was only one thing he could do. So, the nemesis waited.

Generations had been tainted by evil incarnate. Generations had sworn no other would be its prey. The finest minds prepared for every contingency. The finest casters laid the groundwork for an inescapable trap. The purest hearts sacrificed everything to create its nemesis. This was part of the master plan. So, the nemesis waited.

The flare of magic had been unmistakable. The tyrant had taken an innocent, fattening the lamb for the slaughter as he forced it to gather much-needed mana. The scenario had been foreseen, and it had been incorporated into the master plan. So, the nemesis waited.

A weapon had been forged, cast in gold and gems. That weapon would sense the link between the tyrant and his victim. As soon as the transfer surged, the device would activate, shielding the innocent and incapacitating the tyrant. This was a linchpin of the master plan. So, the nemesis waited.

Such evil could not be destroyed. Unbound, it would eventually find another host. The tyrant's soul would be its prison. It would be fed just enough mana to keep it anchored to the mortal plane, keeping it in a perpetual state of limbo. That was the goal of the master plan. So, the nemesis waited.

It would take time for the scenario to play out. He could feel the weapon fulfilling its purpose. He knew events would unfold as they had been predicted. All was going according to the master plan. So, the nemesis waited.

Justice would be delayed, not denied. The nemesis waited.





Tension spiked in the Transfiguration classroom as Professor McGonagall entered. She did not storm in, that was something Professor Snape did from time to time. However, there was something clearly different about her entrance. Her body was tensed for action, and her senses seemed peaked to discern even the most minute detail. Although her entrance was almost silent, she drew every student's undivided attention. They would have sworn they were looking at a lioness on the prowl.

Scanning her class, she asked. “Does anyone present know where Miss Bloom is?”

The spattering of Ravenclaws all shook their heads, and Padma said. “They have a little time before class starts. I’m sure all of the Gryffindors will turn up together as usual.”

“Very well, when the period starts, I would like you all to review Chapter Three in your texts.” Minerva closed her eyes to sigh. “I will need to have a conversation with your peers when they arrive.”

The witch could have sworn there was a flash of light. An unexpected voice drew her attention.

“Here she is now,” Discord said, and Minerva opened her eyes only to find that she was in the infirmary, packed in with her missing first-years. “We can ask her.”

“Minerva.” Madam Pomfrey didn’t cease casting spells on Neville, who lay on one bed while Dean sprawled out on the adjacent bunk. “I’m glad you’re here; we have a situation.”

“How badly have my lions been hurt?” Minerva asked.

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted. “It was kind of like that feeling you get if you put your tongue on a battery, only over my whole body. It went away quickly enough though.”

“I’m fine too,” Neville stated weakly. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll be right up.”

“Neither of you are to get up until you have my say so,” Pomfrey commanded in a no-nonsense manner. “Minerva, these children claim they were ambushed on the way to their dorm.”

“Ambushed?” Professor McGonagall did not bother to hide the surprise in her voice.

“An older boy snuck up behind us and started casting a curse at us,” Parvati snarled. She and the rest of the Gryffindors waited impatiently on the other side of the room. “No warning or reason.”

“Do you know which spell?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Horendum digitos,” Hermione promptly answered.

Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall shared a look then with Discord before the professor prompted. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Hermione nodded her head. “He said it two and a half times.”

“And that’s when Miss Bloom threw him out of the window?” Professor McGonagall inquired.

“Ah never got no chance to lay a hoof on 'im.” Apple Bloom's disappointment hung heavily on her features. She muttered, "Ah wasted a perfectly good yoko tobi geri."

“He flew into the lake all on his own then?” Professor McGonagall wasn’t about to put up with lies at a time like this. The adult ponies had insisted that Apple Bloom simply did not tell fibs, but parents often missed their children's faults.

“No, ma’am.” Apple Bloom shook her head, then turn to address Lavender. “Which reminds me. What have Ah told y'all about throwing colts?”

“I’m not going to say I’m sorry.” Lavender screwed her face into a snarl. “He attacked Neville and Dean.”

“Ah know,” Apple Bloom said, “but throwing colts is a bad habit to get into. After classes, you and Ah are goin' down to the pitch and y'all are goin' to run twenty laps. That’ll learn you right like.”

“Twenty?” Lavender gasped.

“Did Ah say twenty.” Apple Bloom rubbed her chin. “Ah meant fifty.”

Lavender wisely kept her mouth shut and sulked.

“Do you not think that is a bit harsh?” Discord asked, lacking his usual grin.

“Nah,” Apple Bloom answered. “Power without control is nothin'. If’n it hadn’t been well-deserved, she would be doing two hundred at least. Ah’m going to break her of the habit.”

“Miss Brown threw your assailant into the lake? Not Miss Bloom?” McGonagall confirmed, skeptically.

“Ah would have cleared the lake,” Apple Bloom asserted.

Philomena trilled and nodded her head.

“Isn’t that a tad hypocritical?” Madam Pomfrey asked, content with her examination of Neville.

"Ah never said Ah was gonna throw 'im. Ah was gonna put his wand where the sun don't shine." Apple Bloom defiantly crossed her arms.

"I fail to see a distinction, Miss Bloom," noted Professor McGonagall. "You were prepared to physically attack your assailant."

"There are tons of ways ta take down a colt without throwin'. Ah don't want any filly to use this as her first move."

Discord quirked an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's all there is to it?"

Apple Bloom sighed. "Well, Ah do want to get mah licks in on any polecat that threatens mah herd."

Madam Pomfrey switched her attention to Dean and began waving her wand. “Are you positive he used the same spell on both of them? Mr. Longbottom has displayed the expected symptoms right down to the electrical burns. Mr. Thomas, on the other hand, has not.”

“I didn’t turn around in time to see the curse, but he said the same words each time,” Hermione assured the school nurse.

“It would seem that he flubbed the spell the second time. Mr. Thomas appears unharmed,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Mr. Longbottom has suffered some minor electrical burns, but is otherwise whole.”

“Which brings us back to my question. What is to be done with the attacker?” Discord interrupted.

“That will be up to the headmaster,” Minerva said. "He was with the other heads of house, fishing the accused out of the lake. We will, of course, need to hear his side of the story. However, such behavior shall not be tolerated.”

“Shall you be calling the constables?” Discord asked.

“That, too, shall be up to the headmaster. If no real damage has been done, I suspect he will decide to handle this internally,” Professor McGonagall answered.

“And shall the children’s parents be notified?” Discord pressed.

“That is also up to Professor Dumbledore.” McGonagall admitted.

"My dear professor, what these children endured would be politely described as 'atrocities' in any civilized society. The parents deserve to know forthwith.” Discord snapped his fingers, and the room became notably more crowded.

“Discord!” the first to recover yelled, running her hand through her mint green hair. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble for one day?”

“My dear, Lyra.” Discord tsked. “I’ve yet to cause any today. In fact, I was spending some valuable alone time with Alice and Fluttershy when I became aware poor Neville here was in enough pain to stop an elephant.”

“Tell that to the clientele of the Leaky Cauldron.” Lyra snapped. “Twilight just emptied the place.”

“What happened to my Neville?!” Augusta Longbottom demanded, shoving her way over to the bed holding her grandson.

“Luna?” Ginny asked, confused. “Where did you get that popcorn?”

“A house elf just brought it. It seemed appropriate.” Luna Lovegood held out a large bowl of fluffy, buttery goodness. “Want some?”

“That’s it,” Scootaloo said. “She is not to be left alone in a room with Pinkie Pie.”

“Aaaaaah!” *Crash!*

“My supply cabinet!” Madam Pomfrey fretted.

“Lavender!” Apple Bloom scolded. “Not throwing colts extends to not throwing full grown stallions, either.”

“But he was trying to get the drop on Ron!” Lavender countered.

“Was that Crispin Lee?” Arthur Weasley asked, eyeing the bedraggled and dirty man who had just left a man-sized indentation in the front of the supply cabinet with his body. “He’s supposed to be in Azkaban.”

“I thought the parents of the accused should be present as well,” Discord stated.

“You broke them out of prison to attend a parent teacher conference?!” Professor McGonagall did the unthinkable and raised her voice around students.

“That explains why that woman just staggered out the door,” Harry noted.

“Oh, bugger me!” Arthur swore, rushing for the exit himself.

“The goblins are not going to be happy with me just up and disappearing again,” Elisa Bates commented.

“Hi, mum!” Abigail waved cheerfully.

“I take it back,” Scootaloo said. “Abigail is the one not to be left alone with Pinkie.”

“I vote for neither of them are to be left alone with her.” Parvati opined.

“Wait,” Sweetie Belle said pointing a stunned blue pegasus stallion with a rainbow mohawk standing between Applejack and Rarity. “Who’s that?”

Scootaloo swiftly did the math in her head before timidly approaching the stallion. “Dad?”

“What?” The stallion shook himself out of his stupor. “Rainbow Dash?”

Scootaloo stopped mid-step. “Huh?”

The stallion looked around the room in confusion before fixing his attention on the girl. “I don’t know what is going on, but Rainbow Dash is my only daughter, and she’s a pony. You must have me mistaken for somepony else, and I’m not even sure what you are.” The last was said with him pointing a hoof at Scootaloo.

Aghast, Scootaloo turned a burning gaze on Discord.

“I am sorry,” Discord said. “Rainbow is still in the process of adopting you. I guess my aim was a smidgeon off. I assure you this was not intentional.”

“I.” Tears stared flowing down Scootaloo’s cheeks. “I understand.” With those words she spun and ran from the room. Harry, Ron, and Sweetie Belle were in quick pursuit.

Apple Bloom turned to Lavender. "Keep an eye on the colts." She turned to follow the other Crusaders.

“Now, ya jus’ gone an’ done it,” Applejack growled, hurrying after the first-years. No one paid any attention to the lone cloth napkin floating to the floor as she flowed into her human form.

“It would seem that the transfiguration on Miss Applejack’s outfit has worn off,” Professor McGonagall said unnecessarily.

“Uh huh,” the male members in the room agreed.

“It would also seem that she was correct about the powers she ascribed to human udders,” Rarity added, taking the time to change herself to her human form.

“Yeouch!” Lavender’s father cried out. “What was that for?”

“Your eyes belong over here,” his wife seethed, brandishing her wand.

“Anyway,” Discord hastily interjected, “I still think Dash should be here.” He snapped his fingers and a stream of rainbow light shot across the room, impacting solidly with a groggy man standing up from where he had been lying next to a supply cabinet.

*Whump!* The supply cabinet's doors splintered and fell to the floor.

“Oh, I had forgotten about him.” Seamus’s mother admitted.

“What? What?” Rainbow sputtered, trying to untangle herself from her victim.

“Rainbow! How’s my girl?” the blue pegasus stallion exclaimed.

“Dad?” Rainbow said staring at him. “What are you doing here? For that matter, what am I doing here?” Then after looking down to see what she had landed on, she exclaimed, “Eew! Medic!”

“I’m coming,” Madam Pomfrey called out, rushing over.

“Are we just going to ignore the starkers woman who just ran out of here?” Parvati’s father asked.

“She wasn’t starkers.” Discord corrected. “She was wearing a hat.”

“Well, I guess that makes it alright thaaaaaaaand.” Parvati’s father replied.

“Hmm,” Rarity mused. “I’m not even focusing any magic into them, but it is apparent that size is a factor.”

“Would you please put those away?” Parvati’s mother requested.

“I just wanted to test it out,” Rarity said, complying.

“What’s going on here anyway?” Rainbow asked, backing away from the human stallion receiving medical attention.

“Haven’t got a clue yet,” Mr. Lovegood said, claiming another handful of popcorn from the bowl his daughter was holding. “I’m sure Mr. Discord was about to tell us.”

“Actually,” Discord said. “First I was hoping to find out why Lyra considers Twilight emptying a pub my fault.”

“Two words,” Lyra said. “Book burning.”

“Oh.” Discord winced. “That would do it.”

“I don’t get it.” Dean’s mother spoke up. “Why would that explain it, and how did she empty the pub?”

“I’ve never seen anyone’s hair burst into flames like that before.” Emma Granger offered with a shudder.

“And she was white hot with magical rage. Everyhuman decided that they wanted to be anywhere but where she was.” Lyra nodded her head.

“Her head caught fire?” Dean’s mother gasped. “How awful! Should we get her help.”

“One.” Emma said. “I didn’t mean her hair caught fire. I meant that her hair turned into flames and started to dance around wildly. And two, no, we should let her cool down some before we even consider getting close. Pun not intended. I've never seen clothes vaporize before.”





The fishing expedition had been successful. Dumbledore led the way with a stoic expression. Three heads of house formed a cordon around their catch, the de-slimed and dried Barnaby Lee. The seventh-year staggered as he followed the headmaster toward the school's medical wing. The lad had claimed that the first-years had attacked him without provocation and that it was Lavender Brown who had launched him through the window.

The mere fact that such an attack had occurred was vexing, to say the least. Dumbledore could not discount the possibility, however slim, that a pack of first-years had ambushed a seventh-year. The more likely scenario would be a disaster for his plans. Miss Brown was a minor daughter of a thriving clan, whereas Mr. Lee was the last of his line. Special consideration was going to be needed here, lest Barnaby become the last of the Lees. With any luck, he would be able to defuse the situation without resorting to anything drastic. He would have to act swiftly to prevent it from getting out of hand or becoming public knowledge.

The party stopped when a healthy, young, blonde woman skidded around the corner.

“Professor Snape, Ah’m glad Ah ran into ya,” she said, tipping her hat back on her head. “Have you seen Scootaloo? The filly jus’ had the shock of her short li'l life.”

“Gah!” Professor Snape said, letting go of the supporting grip he had on Barnaby Lee’s arm.

“No time for that now. Mah eyes are up here. Ya can ogle 'em all ya want later.”

“Gah!” Snape smartly repeated.

“Come on!” The woman grabbed Snape’s hand and started dragging him off down the hall.

After watching them disappear around yet another corner, Barnaby said, “That lucky bastard.”

“Mr. Lee, language,” Professor Sprout admonished.

“Let him have this one,” Professor Flitwick said. “Just let him have this one.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said, turning to continue on towards their destination. “It would seem that our Potions master shall be occupied for a while. We shall have to proceed without him.”

He hadn’t taken two steps when a silvery cat made of magic put in an appearance. “Albus, if you are planning on coming to the infirmary, don’t. I would prefer to keep the property damage and injuries to a minimum. Just send Severus and Mr. Lee instead. Your time would be better spend tracking down Imogen Lee, who is skulking about somewhere.”

“Mom?” Barnaby asked, as the cat disappeared. “She’s here?”

Professor Sprout looked at Flitwick and said. “I just got a bottle of thirteen-year firewhisky; why don’t you come over after classes?”

“I’ll bring Paola and a bottle I have stashed away as well.”

“Is that wise on a school night?” the headmaster asked.

“With the way things are going, what harm could a little firewhisky do?” Professor Sprout returned.





“Hot! Hot! Hot!”

“The roof! The roof! The roof is on fire!”

“We don’t need no water- Let the motherbu . . ."

“Hey! Don’t listen to her! That’s my house! Put it out! Put it out!”

“That does it,” Berry Punch said, wavering unsteadily on her four hooves. “Derpy is cut off.”

“Yeah.” Carrot Top was also swaying. “Who would have >hic< Who would have thunk >hic< Who would have thinked that mixing a magical fire breathing booze, a pegasus, >hic< an’ a thatch…ch…ch…it roof would have been so vol… >hic< vol… >hic< tile.”

Roseluck said, "Nah breath. After burn."

“Anyway.” Berry slurred. “Minete, line up the next round of shots. We have thirsty ponies here.” She turned to see if her command was being followed. “Neva mind, you go ahead and enjoy your nap. Carrot, you wanna get the next round set up?”

*Thump!*

“Or I could jus’ do it myself.” Berry trotted, er, lurched over to the table cum makeshift bar to help spread the joy.





Order had been restored to the infirmary in short order. The elder Mr. Lee had been restrained on a bed using a full body bind after being given several doses of Skele-Grow. In the meantime, Rainbow Dash introduced her father, Bow Hothoof, to the concept of humans before introducing him to the other parents. Still, something seemed out of place.

“Before we go any farther.” Rainbow raised a hoof as she flapped idly in the air. “Any chance I could get one of those rings and one for Dad too?”

“Oh, but of course,” Discord said, producing his puzzle box from nowhere.

“Thanks, Discord,” Rainbow acknowledged.

“Don’t mention it,” Discord said. “I have been getting my magic’s worth from passing these out.”

“I hate to impose,” Dan Granger said, “but I left a patient being prepped for some drilling when you snagged me. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you send me back?”

“Oh, hay no!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed as she frantically began to pull the painfully pink outfit she was wearing from her lithe, athletic, human body.

“On second thought,” Dan mused, “there's no harm in waiting a few more minutes.”

“Dan,” Emma growled halfheartedly.

Rarity eyed her friend's new body critically. "Darling, I'm afraid an attack with those would simply fall flat."

Lavender’s mother shook her head in dismay. "Showing off like that is a boob."

Lavender's father received a slap to the head when he noted, "Two, actually."

"That will be just about enough of that," Professor McGonagall said, brandishing her wand. One quick charm later had transformed the pink monstrosity into a virtual straitjacket, with the sleeves covering the hands and straps in the back securely holding the garments in place.

Sternly, Minerva said, "Mrs. Dash, that is not the way you should expose yourself to the wizarding world."

“But this is so . . . so. . . so,” Rainbow sputtered.

“I think she is trying to say that this is far too masculine. Why, anypony would mistake her for a stallion,” Rarity observed.

“Very well.” Minerva swished her wand again.

“Rarity!” Rainbow wailed. “Stop helping!” The fashion disaster slowly transformed into something out of a fairy tale. Ballet slippers were hidden under petticoats that were covered by a skirt of silk and lace. The front parts of the sleeves became white, elbow-length gloves, while the tops became puffy short sleeves. The collar grew into a Medici collar while the rest of the top became a frilly blouse. Rainbow stumbled as the bodice formed. "Hey! That's way too heavy!"

“You look so adorable, darling.” Rarity giggled.

There was a flash of light and everyone turned to see that Discord had a large bellows camera with a flash pan in his hands.

“Aaaaah!” Rainbow commented.

“I’m going to want ten copies, Discord darling.” Rarity said.

While everyone was distracted, Bow transfigured in order to avoid being the odd pony out. He studied his reflection in a mirror. "Tell me the truth. Does this make me look fat?"

Everyone else turned to the voice. The only sound that could be heard was jaws hitting the ground.





To her dismay, Scootaloo found that her human form was not nearly as fast as her natural pegasus form. The tears blurring her vision did nothing to help in her escape.

A red blob filled her field of view and said, "Wait up, Scootaloo!"

“Go away, you guys.” Scootaloo sniffed. “Trying to find a hiding spot in the empty classroom.”

“No way,” Harry said from behind, for the first time in his life initiating a hug. “You wouldn’t let me handle this on my own; you’d be barmy to think I’d let you suffer on your own.”

Scootaloo began sobbing as Ron and Sweetie Belle joined the hug. Apple Bloom said, "We Crusaders stick together," as she scanned the approaches for the slightest hint of trouble.





“We’ve got a problem,” the sixth-year girl said as she entered the potions lab. “Things are going pear-shaped.”

“Couldn’t find our missing professor?” one of the waiting boys asked.

“Oh, I found him just fine,” the girl answered. “He wants us each to start titrating a batch of euric solution until he’s able to come to class.”

“Where’s the problem with that?” a different boy asked.

“The reason he’s late is because he’s being dragged around by that top-heavy, blonde bimbo.”

“Still not seeing a problem here,” the first boy said.

“She was naked again.” The girl huffed. “In the halls no less, mind you.”

Yet another boy asked, "Are you sure she's the same one?"

Growling, the girl replied, "I recognized the freckles on her cheeks."

The second boy said, "This is great news! It's sure to improve his mood."

An ebony-haired girl shot a stinging hex at him. Bristling, she said, "No wonder you lot don't have girlfriends! He's cheating on Zecora, you dolts!

“Eh, it’s keeping him happy; he’s been almost tolerable the last couple days.”

“You do realize how wrong the whole thing is,” a third girl interjected.

“You do realize just how outlandish the phrase ‘keeping Snape happy’ is,” the first boy challenged.

“We need to send Zecora an owl so she can come fight for her wizard,” the first girl insisted.

Silence followed.

“Well, aren’t you going to make some stupid comment about how Professor Snape should be allowed to play the two off on each other?” the ebony-haired witch demanded.”

“Nah, we’re still too busy trying to wrap our minds around the thought of any witch fighting over Professor Snape, let alone two.”

“You made my brain hurt,” the second boy confessed.





“Okay, now that we are all here, we can get to the business at hand.” Professor McGonagall said to the packed infirmary. “There are some serious allegations that need to be addressed.”

“Just a moment please,” Rarity broke in. “It may not be relevant, but the parents of the three most recent fillies are not present.”

“They were not involved in the incident,” Madam Pomfrey explained. “There would be no need to worry them.”

“They have a right to know what is happening at the school.” Rarity countered.

Discord sighed and snapped his fingers.

“What the?” Filthy Rich snorted. His wife and Silver Spoon’s parents looked just as startled as he did.

“Princess Cadance?” Lyra gasped as the large pink pony goggled over her unexpected change of location.

“Where am I?” Princess Cadance asked. “Are these the humans everypony has been talking about?”

“Welcome to Hogwarts, your Highness.” Professor McGonagall said. “Yes, we are humans.”

“Wait a minute,” Rarity crooned. “You are Clouded Hope’s mother.”

A series of expressions flitted across Cadance’s muzzle as she considered her options. “Maybe?”

“You and your coltfriend had her awful young.” Lyra noted.

“Um, Shiny is a very capable stallion.” Cadance shuffled her hooves uncomfortably, unsure of the situation she was finding herself in.

“Oh my, the absolute scandal,” Rarity gushed.

"Do you mean Shining Armor?" Lyra asked as she projected the image of a white stallion in a Royal Guard's uniform.

Cadence purred, "That's my stallion."

“Isn’t he Twilight’s older brother?” Lyra asked.

“Maybe?” Cadance admitted.

"You have my condolences," said Lyra. "Have you broken the news to Twilight?"

"News?" asked Cadance.

"You're taking his passing awfully well," replied Lyra.

"Shiny is alive!" insisted Cadance.

"But Discord brought all the other parents." Lyra's eyes shot wide open. "Oh." The other parents hid their smirks with their hands.

The pink pony growled, "That's my story, and I'm sticking with it." Impossibly, a blush showed through her fur.

“My,” Discord said. “This has truly been a day of revelations.”

“Twilight has a brother?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Which reminds me. We should probably go back to the Leaky Cauldron and see if she’s calmed down yet,” Emma said.

“She can take care of herself for a while.” Lyra shook her head. “With nopony there to guide her, she’ll just gravitate to one of the bookstores.”

“Why does Twilight need to calm down?” Rainbow cocked an eyebrow.

“Discord burned a whole shelf of rare heirloom books,” Lyra explained.

Dash’s eyes shot wide open as she addressed Discord. “Have you decided what you want on your tombstone?”





Madam Malkin could not believe her luck. True, back-to-school season was always a boon for her business, but this year she had lucked into a good number of complete wardrobes to furnish after the normal rush, including seven more just this very day. There was so much work to do that she was considering closing her shop for the day when the bell above the door announced a customer.

Hearing her assistant gasp, Madam Malkin looked up from the written orders she had been scrutinizing. “Hello?”

“Um, hello.” her customer greeted. “I need some clothes.”

“I can see that.” Madam Malkin said, taking in the color of her customer's hair, all of it. “What happened to your pink uniform?”

“Rarity burned that first chance she got,” her customer said.

“I see. I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I always thought 'sackcloth and ashes' was just an expression.”

“Well, I had a rather nice outfit when I got here.”

“And?”

“Well, that got burned too.” The woman blushed. "Luckily, bank keys and my wand are fireproof."

“I see.” Madam Malkin nodded. “Could I interest you in something with some heavy flame resistance charms then?”

“Yes. Please.”





She was not going back. Nothing in this world or the next could make her.

Never before had she been so appreciative of that secret passage that lead from the Slytherin area in the dungeons to just outside the infirmary.

Years of malnutrition and neglect had taken a massive toll on her body. An influx of magic buffered by both fear and hope compensated for some of what had been stolen from her. What they could not do, desperation finished. They lent her the strength she needed to cross the wards and enter the Forbidden Forest.

Not even a breath later, she called out. “Yippy! Come here!”

A crack announced the arrival of the one who had contributed more to raising her than her own parents. “Mistress youz free!”

“Quick, Yippy get me Uncle Tarquin’s wand from the vault. I need to get to the safe house.”

“Yippy be taking you there directly!”

There was another crack, then silence.

While most purebloods treat their house elves with something less than respect, the practice is not universal.

Though her classmates and peers would have lambasted her if they had known, Imogen considered Yippy her oldest and truest companion.

When others sought to punish the elf, Imogen loyally protected her from harm.

When others yelled and cursed at the servant, Imogen always offered a kind word.

When others couldn’t be bothered with its presence, Imogen always gave honest company.

When others screamed at her, Imogen laughed with her.

When others withheld food and basic necessities, Imogen had generously shared from her own plate.

Not all purebloods treated their elves like dirt. Imogen had whole heartedly entrusted her only child to this one to be raised in the same manner she had been herself.

Across the years of separation, despite the forcefully broken bonds of servitude, regardless of the Ministry warning to the elf that she was no longer allowed to heed the orders of this convict, Yippy had come. The elf had defied the laws of the Ministry. The elf had defied the laws of her people. The elf would have paid any price to heed the call.

For those who follow dark paths as well as those who follow the light, one thing remained true.

Friendship was magic.

Storge, philia, eros, agape. Love in all its forms was even stronger.
> Chapter 62: Covert Chicanery
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mike's reporter's instincts screamed as he waited to make his move. He had been cautiously gathering information for his story, infiltrating a secret society by posing as a handicapped member, a "squib". He shuddered to think what would happen if his cover were blown. It was rumored that these people would erase the memories of those who stumbled upon their secret. He threatened to expose them to the entire world. What would stop them from simply removing any trace of his existence?

He had been approaching the gatehouse to their stronghold when a small crowd had stumbled out in panic, blocking the normally busy sidewalk. The normal throng of pedestrians showed no interest in the disturbance although they had to step into the street to bypass the obstruction. The crowd had now been staring at the space between the record shop and the book store for a half hour. He confirmed that his miniature tape recorder was turned on. With any luck, if things went pear-shaped, they wouldn't find it. Girding his loins, he sidled up to a younger woman and nonchalantly asked, "Something going on in the Leaky Cauldron?”

The woman, casually dressed in baby blue robes, replied, “A foreign witch blew her top a good bit gone by. We’re waiting to see when it might be safe to go back in.”

“A foreign witch,” the reporter mused. “As in the same one who beat the Chief Warlock silly the other day?” Back issues of the magical newspaper were proving invaluable.

“No,” a witch standing next to the first answered. “I remember the pictures of her from the 'Prophet'. This was someone else. Her hair had a pink stripe in it.”

“What exactly did she do to give everyone such a fright?” the reporter asked.

“She started putting out a lot of accidental magic. Whatever made her mad must be a real doozy.”

“Yeah,” the first witch agreed. “She screamed, ‘He did what?’ then burst into white hot magic, transfiguring her hair into flames for good measure."

The second witch shuddered. "Aguamenti couldn't touch her. I didn't even see any steam."

Grumbling, the first witch said, "I really need to get my apparition license; the rush to get out of the pub was murder.”

“Whoever, ‘he’ is I feel right sorry for him, I do,” the second witch said.

“I’m sure he has plenty of warning to run by now,” the reporter commented.

“I don’t think he can run far enough, fast enough,” the first witch said. “It just goes to show that you have to watch out for witches with unusual hair colors.”

“Are you saying they put the tempers of traditional redheads to shame?” the reporter asked.

“Not just that. Did you hear what a group of them pulled off in Gringotts this morning?”

“Can’t say that I have. They didn’t try to rob the place or anything did they?”

“Since the goblins aren’t in open revolt at the moment, I’d say it’s safe to say that didn’t happen.” A wizard walked up on the reporter’s opposite side. “What’s going on?”

“Foreign witch throwing a temper tantrum,” the reporter answered.

“Bouncing some poor wizard off the wall, is she?” the wizard asked.

“Time will tell,” the second witch answered. “As luck would have it, he wasn't present at the time.”

“So, what happened at the bank earlier?” the reporter prodded.

“They got the whole place singing and dancing, including the goblins. I hear Mrs. Ironbottom was doing burlesque with the head teller.”

“They had goblins singing and dancing?” The wizard next to the reporter snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

“You could always go ask the goblins,” the first witch said. “While you’re at it you could check and see if the pub is clear.”

“I like my head where it is, on my shoulders, thank you very much,” the wizard returned. “But I will have a looksee here; I’ve only got so much time to grab a late lunch.”

After watching the wizard disappear into the no see space, the reporter placed a hand on the shoulder of the closest witch in time to see his unwitting stool pigeon disappear into the pub. When the witch turned to look at him, questioning the contact, he said, “May I interest you in a pint or two? I’d like to hear some more on what happened.”

She smiled shyly at him. “Work fast, don’t you? Yes, I’d like that very much.”





“Mr. Lee,” Professor Flitwick said as the entirety of waiting crowd in the infirmary listened on. “You still wish to cling to this tale of the first years ambushing you, rather than the other way around.”

“Why would I attack a bunch of useless first years?” Barnaby countered, eyeing Dean. “And if I did, I wouldn’t cast a spell I had a chance of miscasting. They are obviously lying.”

“I find it hard to believe a group of first years, not yet through their first month of schooling, would randomly accost an elder student,” Professor McGonagall said. “Present your wand; we shall see what the last spells you cast are.”

“I must have lost it in the lake.” Barnaby smirked. “That is another thing: they owe me a new wand. Furthermore, I would like my head of house present. Everyone here is hostile and has made up their minds that I’m guilty.”

“Professor Snape is otherwise occupied,” Professor Sprout said.

“I can wait,” Barnaby replied.

“I have a better idea,” Xenophilius said, moving away from the wall where he had been leaning. “Since you are legally an adult, why don’t we call on Amelia Bones. We’ll let her question you with veritaserum.”

Barnaby’s eyes widened and he sputtered, “But this is a school brawl; she wouldn’t waste her time.”

“You have misjudged the situation,” Professor McGonagall said gravely. “You are an adult and stand accused of assaulting a group of children under the protection of this school. That alone is enough to earn you a date with a judge in the Wizengamot. This group includes three whose families hold seats in that body, including the Minister's own daughter. This group includes a sitting member of the Wizengamot. This group includes foreign students, one of whom is a ward of their ruling family. This shall not be swept under the rug, Mr. Lee. If you have anything to say, I would suggest doing so now."

Barnaby scanned the room of hostiles in front of him, allowing his eyes to grow even wider as the realization of the magnitude of his blunder. “It was Potter,” Barnaby blurted out. “He’s the reason my parents were in Azkaban. He’s the reason I haven’t seen them all these years.”

“Harry did nothing of the sort,” Molly Weasley objected, hugging Ginny closer to herself. “Your parents were responsible for their own actions.”

“And we get to the heart of the matter,” Discord said, “misdirected anger.”

“It’s obvious we can’t have him wandering around the school anymore,” Dean’s mother stated, sitting on the edge of the bed where her own child lay.

“I don’t like the idea of him running around outside the school either,” Elisa Bates added. “Perhaps the best option would be jail time.”

“He’s a clear danger to innocent humans,” Lyra said. “I recommend going straight to banishment.”

“I disagree.” Rarity argued, “He is young enough that we can afford to be merciful and protect our children at the same time.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Emma Granger asked. “It’s not like he can be watched twenty-four seven.”

“That’s easy.” Rarity grinned. “When I was getting my wand, Discord gave a good lecture on how they could be used to give oaths as well as binding promises. We just get him to swear on his life and magic; then, there would be no need to involve the authorities.”

“You do realize that technically I count as ‘the authorities’?” Mr. Lovegood said with a hint of humor.

“That takes care of future incidents,” Dean’s mother agreed. “But what about punishment for what he has already done?”

“I vote we lock him in a room with Apple Bloom for fifteen minutes,” Rainbow Dash suggested, trying her best not to channel a pretty perky pink pixie princess, but failing miserably.

“We will most certainly not be doing that,” Professor McGonagall said, firmly placing her foot down for emphasis.

“Ten minutes?”

“Mrs. Dash.” Professor McGonagall sent a piercing glare her way.

“All right!” Rainbow huffed. “Five then, but that’s my final offer.”

“No, Mrs. Dash,” Professor McGonagall said.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. You can regrow his bones.” Rainbow folded her arms and pouted, causing several in the room to go into shock from cuteness overload.

Cadance strode from the small bathroom. Displaying the same modesty as her daughter, the last pony standing had opted to take one of Discord's rings and transfigure in privacy. Although she sported purple, pink, and yellow hair, she could easily be mistaken for Lyra's twin.

Cadance unconsciously licked her lips as she studied the miscreant. He was radiating love for the human bound to an infirmary bed although he was doing his best to conceal his emotions. Her hips swayed seductively as she slowly circled around him. With a predatory leer, she said, "Why don't you release him into my care for a couple days? I’m sure I could drain him of any desire to harm children ever again.”

Discord shuddered and looked at Barnaby. “Trust me. You would be much better off with the fifteen minutes alone with Apple Bloom.”

Further discussion on the subject was interrupted by the fireplace spontaneously flowering green flames. “Minerva, are you there?” came the voice of an old stallion.

“Yes, Albus, I am here.”

A head appeared in the flames. “Good. I must insist on an update. I do need to know what is going on in my school.”

“You!” Rarity growled, producing her glowing wand. “We never did finish our conversation last time.”

“I’m afraid,” the head in the flames said. “Mrs. Belle that levitation does not work through the floo network. Furthermore, school discipline, by law, dictates that individual hostilities, including blood feuds, are put on hold for the duration.”

*Hummmmmm! Foooosh! Boooooooom!*

“My floo!” Madam Pomfrey cried out as the stones of her former fireplace clattered to the floor.

“Did I get him?” Lyra demanded, clutching her wand tightly. “It’s hard to aim with this thing.”

“I don’t know,” Emma said as she observed the epicenter of destruction. “Was that fireplace male or female?”

“Magical attacks don’t translate through the floo system.” Professor Flitwick said. “All you managed to do was damage school property.” He swished his wand and the fireplace began to fly back together. “Luckily, that is easily fixed.”

“No fair.” Lyra pouted. “Discord, would you mind popping me over for a face to face?”

Discord shrugged, snapped his fingers and Lyra disappeared in a flash of light.

There were a few seconds of utter silence then Professor McGonagall said. “Please tell me you didn’t just . . .”

*BWANG!* A single bass note from the headmaster's office reverberated through the school, shaking everyone off their feet.

“I think the headmaster will be spending another night at St. Mungo's.” Professor Sprout suggested.

“No.” Discord shook his head. “Fawkes decided that absence of body was more important than presence of mind. Your headmaster is unscathed. Sadly, the same cannot be said for his office. I never would have guessed its harmonic was a B-flat.”

“I wanna change my vote,” Rainbow Dash said. “Let’s stick the kid in a room with Lyra for ten minutes.”





“Thar ya are,” Applejack called out, dragging Snape into the abandoned classroom. Scootaloo was sitting on Ron’s lap in a corner, loosely hugging him while Harry, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom hovered close by, warily looking for the slightest disturbance.

“Hey sis.” Apple Bloom waved. “An’ hello, Professor Snape.”

Despite his years of occlumency mastery, the rational portion of his mind had not been able to keep abreast of the rapidly changing situation. It took a familiar situation to provide enough stability for him to focus. Professor Snape reflexively said, "Shouldn't the lot of you be in class right now?" He said with a sneer, “There has been more than enough excitement for today.”

“We didn’t cause no excitement,” Apple Bloom said. “We was jus’ minding our own business, goin’ back to the dorms to check on Magah before class when we got jumped by that weasel.”

“So, you say.” Professor Snape followed his habits and reached out with a light legilimency probe to test for honesty. Just like his comment, this was a matter of reflex. Had he been thinking clearly, he would have remembered his promise to avoid probing any of the pony-aligned first-years; there was no telling what might go wrong. As soon as his mind touched Apple Bloom's, Professor Snape realized that he was right to have been cautious as his mind was jerked into his student's.

His mind was supposed to be the anchor. His surroundings were supposed to be the dominant tableau. He now found himself in a mindscape that would be charitably described as psychedelic. Instead of a projection of his office, he found himself in a greenish void with pink and purple dots of varying sizes scattered around like stars in the night sky, but without any apparent organization. Instead of Apple Bloom, he found himself face to face with a completely alien creature. The beast vaguely resembled a dragon, but it had no semblance of symmetry. It had the tail of a red dragon, the hind leg of a green dragon, the wing of a purple dragon, and the foreleg and paw of a lion. It also had the hind leg of a horse, the wing of a pegasus, and the arm and claw of a griffon. The body was feathered and snake-like while the neck was horse-like. The head was similar to a dragon's, but it sported one antler and one horn. The snaggle-toothed snarl added a hint of menace as the creature casually swung a gigantic wooden mallet.

“Ah ah ah!” The oddity waggled a finger at Snape. “No peeking!”





A soft green glow marked the passage of a lone figure as it leisurely strolled through the caverns beneath Canterlot. The afternoon had been unexpectedly informative, very informative, but also more than slightly unnerving. She was positive her cover had been blown. Fortunately, some quick talking had cast her as a mother struggling to care for an illegitimate daughter. Her cover's reputation had been tarnished, but that was her cover's problem. Her agent now had a solid cover story, as well as the sympathy of the faculty. There was only one problem, and she was now going to address it.

She had never planned to maintain the persona. With an uncontested source of food, she had planned to release her prisoner and withdraw her hive. That was no longer an option. Her prisoner's face was now associated with her agent. Now, she had to maintain the status quo for the foreseeable future or risk losing everything.

The glow on her horn intensified as emerald magic melted a portion of the crystal wall to form a portal. The prisoner had been waiting for just such an opportunity. A strangled cry proceeded a feeble attack. No magic, just a lunge by an already weakened foe. She openly displayed her contempt as she snagged the organic projectile out of the air, wrapping the prisoner in yet more emerald magic. “None of that now. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“You!” The prisoner growled, venom dripping from the word as though it had been a viper's fang.

“Yes, me,” she replied. She gently set her prisoner on the far side of the cell before floating a basket over. "I brought you something to eat."

The prisoner regarded the container with greedy eyes but made no move toward it, even though restraint was no longer applied. “I haven’t eaten in three days. Why now?”

“I suppose, if I wanted to be snide, I could say something like ‘There were times when me and my hive would have been ecstatic with only three days between meals’ but the truth of the matter is you are much too powerful to have sitting around at full strength. Keeping you weakened is a necessary precaution, nothing more.”

“Why are you doing this?” The prisoner curtly demanded, “What are your evil plans?”

“Evil plans? You wound me. What I do, I do out of necessity not malice nor greed.”

“What are your plans?” The prisoner repeated, teeth gritted.

“Oh, I see. You want me to monologue. Wouldn’t you prefer to hear about my, or, rather, your day? I spent a lovely bit of time in another dimension. Talked to a new species. Observed a fair punishment given to a young stallion who got off a lot easier than he deserved. It was very interesting, let me tell you. By the way, you should have been more careful a dozen years ago. Your darling daughter has proven to be quite the prodigy at her new magic school.”

“I want to know why you are keeping me locked up in here. I want to know why you are threatening innocent ponies.”

“Monologue it is then.” She sighed and flicked her tail. “Well, I’m not going to tell you my plans. That’s the surest way to see that they fail. I’ll tell you what though. Why don’t I tell you the original idea?”

The prisoner growled, but said nothing.

"It all comes down to the fact that life is a zero-sum game. Everybeing has to eat, be they pony, griffin, ling, or what have you. But, everybeing eats from the same pool of food, and there is a limited supply. My hive didn't just spontaneously decide to move here. We used to have a fruitful gathering ground, Las Pegasus to be exact. We were content. Unfortunately, the queen of another hive was less so. Over the course of a decade, she rooted us out of our feeding grounds. You ponies never even noticed the struggle.”

“What does that have to do with Canterlot?” the prisoner asked.

“I would think it is obvious. We need food. Ponies provide food. We would just sneak in and set up feeding stations if it weren’t for the fact that another hive already claims these lands. My hive is starving and we can’t afford to be as subtle as we normally would. Keeping the existence of lings secret is worthless if it means letting my children starve to accomplish it. Understand that this was never a contest between lings and ponies; this is survival between competing hives.”

“You could have asked Celestia for help.”

“No, there still isn't enough food for everyling. What would have happened is we would have staged a grand assault. I would have used the love supplied by your beau, and ponies would have died. Well not actual ponies, that would be a waste, but lings from the rival hive are fair game. We would threaten to stuff ponies in pods or something just as silly. Can you imagine just how stupid it would be to stuff all your food in a pantry and leave none to grow the next year's harvest? That would be the same concept. Anyway, there would have been a dramatic climax and the real ponies would purge my lings and myself from the city, getting their happy ending. Ponies would rejoice, they would live their lives and give birth to more ponies, providing more food for my hive which would sneak back into the city to usurp the identities of the hive we would have displaced. I would even show up every now and again outside the city to draw attention away from the actual infiltration.”

“Dramatic climax?” The prisoner asked.

“Yes, I have even been working on my evil laughter. Would you care to hear a sample?”

“I’ll pass,” the prisoner said.

“Pity, all that practice is going to end up being wasted.”

“So, what changed?” the prisoner asked.

“Opportunity knocked.”





“There you are!” Twilight heard Lyra say, causing her to look up from the notes she was taking on the portal into Diagon Alley.

“Oh, hey there,” Twilight said to Lyra, Emma, and Arthur. “Where did you three get off to?”

“Mr. Discord was kind enough to involve us in an incident at Hogwarts,” Emma said.

“That doesn’t sound so kind,” Twilight noted, narrowing her eyes.

“Poor word choice.” Emma shrugged.” He brought something important to our attention, something the school would have probably tried to sweep under a rug otherwise.”

“I hope nopony was hurt,” Twilight said with more than a hint of worry.

“Nothing permanent,” Arthur replied, “but it did have the potential of getting out of hand.”

“Is it something I should worry about?”

“Nah,” Lyra said. “Discord summoned all of the parents, and we hashed it out. By the way, your niece wasn’t even involved.”

Twilight blinked rapidly. “My niece? I don’t have a niece.”

“Surprise!” Emma said. “You’ve got a niece!”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and ask you what you are talking about,” Twilight said

“Well,” Lyra said. “When Discord summoned all of the parents, he got Princess Cadance in the mix. Turns out she’s Clouded Hope’s mother. What’s more, we got Applejack to confirm she was being honest when she said that the only pony she has ever slept with since coming to Canterlot was your brother. Ergo, you’re an aunt.”

. . .

. . .

. . .

“HE DID WHAT?!”

On that cue, all the wizards and witches within earshot made a running break for it, with not a few cracks of apparition being heard.

“Well, at least there are no flames this time,” Emma noted after taking a step back. “By the way, that a nice new set of robes you are wearing.”

“Huff, huff. Huff,” Twilight replied.

“When you’re done hyperventilating, would you like to go into the pub and hear about our afternoon? We did miss lunch after all,” Lyra asked.

“Huff. Huff. Huff,” Twilight continued as Owlowicious flew in from nowhere and landed on her head.

Looking up at the bird on her head, Twilight reached into the bag on the ground, holding the new supplies she had bought. “You’ve been taking lessons from Lodestone, haven’t you?”

“Who.”

“Good. I need you to deliver a letter for me.”





It was a special time in the Sparkle household as one of their children paid a rare visit.

“Would you like some more dear?” Twilight Velvet asked her son Shining Armor who was at the table enjoying a home-cooked meal.

“No, Mom,” Shining said, pushing his plate away with his magic. “Three helpings are more than enough.”

“There will be leftovers in the fridge if you get peckish,” Velvet said as an owl flew into the room from nowhere.

“What’s this?” Shining asked as the owl landed on the table in front of him and offered a glowing red envelope.

“Who!” said the owl, shaking the envelope at the stallion urgently.

“Alright then. No need to. . . That can’t be good.” Shining said watching the owl vanish as soon as he had taken the letter in his magic.

“What is it, Shiny?” Velvet asked, trotting up to stand by her son.

“I don’t know,” Shining said, turning the letter over to see that his name was written on one side.

Suddenly, the letter jumped from his magic and started shouting.

“SHINING ARMOR! HOW COULD YOU?! HOW COULD YOU HAVE A FOAL AND NEVER TELL ME?! THIS ISN’T SOME MINOR SECRET LIKE THE MAGAZINES UNDER YOUR MATTRESS! WE’RE TALKING ABOUT AN ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD FILLY HERE! I’VE BEEN AN AUNT FOR ELEVEN YEARS AND NEVER KNEW IT! WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?! ELEVEN YEARS! DON’T YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE LOVED TO KNOW HER?! DON’T YOU THINK I WOULDN’T HAVE WANTED TO HELP HER THROUGH SCHOOL? NO, I HAD TO FIND OUT BECAUSE OF DISCORD! HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM ME FOR SO LONG?! I AM SO ANGRY AT YOU RIGHT NOW! DO MOM AND DAD EVEN KNOW?! HAVE THEY EVEN MET CLOUDED HOPE?! JUST YOU WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HOOVES ON YOU! . . . OH, AND THIS LETTER IS GOING TO EXPLODE IN FIVE SECONDS. GOOD LUCK, SHINY.”

Shining threw up a shield around the letter at the last words, and sure enough the letter erupted. The bubble of magic grew from the size of a bowling ball to the size of a manticore. The bubble made rude noises as Shining gradually bled off the pressure within.

“Shiny,” Twilight Velvet said after a while, “we need to talk.”

Shining Armor winced. It was never good to hear a mare say that.





Well after midnight, a flash of flames announced the arrival of a would-be thief with a bird of fire riding on her shoulder.

“Lumos,” she commanded, and the wand she was carrying provided the only light in the room. Without another word she hurried over to the workbench and started rummaging through the various containers holding the tools of the trade.

After a frustrating five minutes of searching, she muttered, “If I were a tail hair, where would I be hiding?”

“I would suggest the cedar box on the second shelf in the cabinet to your right,” Olivander said from the doorway.

The little girl jumped and lost her hold on her wand, while the bird on her shoulder barely registered the jostling. She gasped before turning to gape at the old man who had once again snuck up on her.

“You are up rather late, Miss Hope,” Olivander said walking across the room to open the cabinet in question. “I trust you have a good reason to visit me at such an hour.”

“Um.” The girl shyly replied.

“I assume you went through the trouble of borrowing Miss Belle’s familiar and that she was willing to lend her to you.”

“Um,” The little girl repeated.

“Was there a problem with one of the hairs I have in my possession?” Olivander retrieved a small cedar chest and opened it.

“You were given the wrong one,” Clouded Hope said, pulling an envelope out of her robes. “I was just going to swap it for the right one.”

“I see.” Olivander took the envelope from the girl’s unresisting hand and peered inside. “Yes, this one does emit an aura of love.” He said, withdrawing a pink strand. “Whereas, this one has an aura of deceit.” This time he drew a long green hair from the cedar chest. "Deception generally works only in the short term. Do have a care when the truth comes to light."
> Interlude 6: A Few Random Scenes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the oppressive darkness, he had been thinking. There was little else that he could do. He still could not understand what went wrong. He should have been restored to his full glory, powered by the victim he had so carefully recruited, but hardly a dribble of power had come back. Now, he lay trapped, barely able to move the doll that had become the proxy for his body.

He had been thinking, and with nothing to distract him, he could focus exclusively on extricating himself. Although he was experiencing dark days, his situation was far from hopeless. His borrowed body had no lifeforce to maintain, so there was no need to waste mana on that. Unlike the dolls with which he was familiar, the material that formed the body of this one was surprisingly uniform, simplifying the task of adapting it for mana storage. Had he been with his physical body, that fact would have been meaningless. The slow, steady drip of mana that he was being fed was barely enough to sustain him. This form, however, was different. He could practically taste the mana in the air. Extracting it was child's play.

Perhaps the sudden return to glory was never meant to be. After all, nothing worthwhile comes easily. He could build his reserves slowly, perhaps at triple the rate of what he was being fed. He could squirrel away his harvest until he had enough to take action. Then, he would return, triumphant. It was just a matter of time.





The excitement on Monday afternoon in the war room in Canterlot palace was palpable. The finest minds in the land were gathered around the mountain of books piled high on the table. They had been given the only weapon that could be used against their foe. They would win the war on ignorance.

They had been given a window to a new world, and the Princess of the Sun was just as enthusiastic as the assembled scholars as they pored through the new books. The occasional scratch of quill on parchment was the only audible sound as they gorged on the smorgasbord of new information. Their ravenous minds trumped the needs of their bodies. Sleep was staved off with coffee. Hunger was satisfied with catered snacks. Waste management was better left to the imagination.

Celestia had her nose buried in a book explaining the basics of runes when an owl flew in from an orthogonal direction.

“More books?” Slanted Insight asked, not removing his muzzle from the book he was devouring.

“I think we have enough books to hold our attentions for a while,” Celestia said, levitating a scroll from the owl’s grasp. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I’d like you to carry a reply to Twilight. I think a few resident owls for the palace would be a prudent idea, and I'd like her to purchase a parliament if she has the opportunity.”

“Who.” The owl bobbed its head before flapping to the back of Slanted’s chair to wait.

“Now, let’s see what my faithful student has to say.” Celestia unrolled the scroll with her magic. After reading she muttered. “Well, that just goes to prove that no matter how well you think you know somepony. . . ” She lowered the scroll and called out, “Guard, please go inform Raven that I would like to speak with her.”

A short time later, an ashen gray unicorn with a glossy black mane entered the meeting room. “You called?” she asked, bowing respectfully.

“Raven.” Celestia wore a worried look. “Do you remember that sabbatical Cadance took? It was what? Eleven years ago?”

“If you are referring to the year she spent away from Canterlot exploring the countryside. I’d say it was closer to twelve years.”

Celestia sighed. “She was gone the better part of a year, wasn’t she.”

“Yes.” Raven chuckled. “Remember how that stallion of hers showed up at least once a week to check and see if she had returned yet. He was always overjoyed when a letter from her was waiting for him.”

“I can’t believe I completely missed the signs,” Celestia said, glancing at a rolled scroll on the desk in front of her. “She’s normally such a responsible young mare.”

“Signs?” Raven raised a questioning eyebrow.

“The signs of youth.” Celestia let out another sigh. “Please send a guard to wake my sister. I’m afraid I’m going to need her assistance containing a scandal. We cannot delay in issuing a joint proclamation, announcing the existence of the realm’s youngest princess. As it is, my nephew, Prince Blueblood is going to throw a fit. I should insist that Cadance break the news to him, herself. After all, she kept it from me.”

“Oh!” Raven eyes went wide as the implications sank in. “This is going to be so much fun. One collective nobles’ meltdown coming right up.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t come to me sooner.” Celestia’s ears drooped. “At least this explains why she’s always disappearing without any explanation.”

“I can’t say I blame her. This way the foal has had a normal life so far.” Raven consoled the larger pony.

“Yes.” Celestia nodded. “But, as you see, the truth eventually comes out.” Grimly she continued. "Before I forget, bring me the big paddle. I'll make sure that Cadance makes an honest stallion of the father."





“I’m home!” the woman called out as soon as she entered the front door of the quiet suburban house. “You won’t believe the day I had.”

“We’re having a day up here,” her husband called from upstairs, humor and some worry bleeding into his voice.

The woman hurried up the steps and found her husband cutting the wall in their bedroom with a keyhole saw. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Your daughter is stuck in the wall,” he stated, as bits of plaster and sawdust continued to rain down on the drop cloth.

“What?” the woman asked.

“Daaaaadyyyyy!” Rosie’s voice came from the other side of the object in question. “Hurry! I don’t like it in here!”

“Just how much space is between the walls?” the woman asked, dumbfounded.

“Evidently, enough for a small pony to fall into from the attic,” her husband returned.

“Daaaaadyyyy! Hurry!” Rosie wailed, panic evident in her voice.

“I suppose the story of how your son was attacked at school will just have to wait then,” the woman said, reaching for a pry bar.





“Where are we going?” Lyra asked as she, Twilight, and Emma followed Arthur down Diagon Alley.

“When I was with the goblins, earlier, I had a message sent to a barrister. He was willing to relay a message to his client to meet us for a late lunch. Our reservation is in ten minutes,” Arthur said.

“His client?” Emma asked.

“Sirius Black!” A purple blur exclaimed before launching itself at the target in question.

“Oooooof!”

“Wow!” Remus Lupin said, coming over to shake Arthur’s hand. “All that’s missing was her screaming ‘Mine!’”

“Don’t be obtuse,” Narcissa scolded. “Every witch in the alley clearly heard her proclaim that word.”

“Shouldn’t we help him?” Lyra worriedly asked.

“Don’t be daft.” Emma scoffed. “It wouldn’t be healthy getting between her and her prey.”

To Emma's surprise, Sirius vanished. From his previous position sprang a large black dog who bounded away with his tail between his legs. Nopony was surprised when, a heartbeat later, Twilight vanished, and a purple unicorn galloped in pursuit.

“Oh, look,” Narcissa said dryly. “She can turn into a goat.”

“Goat?” Lyra asked, aghast.





“I can’t believe you have a pet bear.” Alice said as she watched the yellow pegasus massage the back of the large, furry ursidae.

“Oh, Harry isn’t a pet; he’s a friend,” Fluttershy corrected.

“Fair enough.” Alice flapped her wings, the leathery one refusing to coordinate with the feathery one. “I can’t believe you have a bear for a friend.”

“It’s nothing special, really.” Fluttershy said. “Harry is a wonderful friend. Being friends is special, but I’m not special for being friends with Harry.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Alice said, whipping her draconic tail back and forth experimentally. “You are very special.”

Fluttershy hid behind her mane and squeaked a thank you.

“You both are very special.” Discord said, popping into existence with a flash of light. “I cannot believe my luck in meeting you two.”

“Discord!” the two females cried before throwing themselves at the recently-arrived male.

If ever there was an expression of pure love, it could not equal what the trio displayed. The owl who had flown in from an orthogonal dimension stared indecisively for a several minutes before interrupting with a simple "Whoo?".

Startled, the three looked up. The mood deflated as Alice recognized the owl as one of the Ministry's couriers. With a sigh, she said, "Duty calls."





Professor Snape’s face showed as much emotion as a porcelain mask when he surveyed the Slytherin common room. None could be sure whether he was pleased to find no one from his house was missing. “I trust no one present is so lackwitted as to be ignorant of the purpose behind this gathering.”

He was met by unified silence as the Slytherins stared back and waited.

Nodding his head in satisfaction, Snape continued. “I am sure that you were all duly impressed by what passes for Gryffindor subtlety. The statue Professor McGonagall transfigured from a plate was solid iron. Please note that she did not cast a featherweight charm on it when she asked Miss Apple Bloom to move it from one end of the Great Hall to the other because its placement was not satisfactory. Please also note that there were no charms cast when Miss Bloom changed its pose.”

“She’s the one who threw Barnaby out the window?” a second-year boy asked.

“No, it was Lavender Brown who hurled me.” Barnaby said from his place of shame, standing next to his head of house. “You need to watch out for her; she’s meaner than she looks.”

“Let me make myself explicitly clear,” Professor Snape said. “I will not be informed of any confrontations between members of this house and the first-year Gryffindors.” Once again, he surveyed the room looking for signs of dissent only to be met with the children’s own attempts at stoic faces. “As Mr. Lee can attest, physical prowess is only the first hazard you would face. Even the headmaster would think twice before risking exposure to the sheer amount of political pressure that they can call upon. Keep in mind that the Minister’s own daughter is part of that group.”

A murmur made its way around the common room as everyone present considered the ramifications.

“For his insolence and poorly conceived actions,” Professor Snape continued, “Mr. Lee shall be spending his next four weekends shoveling dragon dung for the goblins.”

At that news, shock registered on most of the student’s faces. “How did they manage to get the goblins to agree to that?” someone blurted out.

“As I said.” Professor Snape sneered. “Their political clout is formidable.” He let the statement sink in before adding, “It should be noted that the gathered parents considered this the more humane option compared to leaving Mr. Lee alone in a room with Miss Bloom for ten minutes.”

“Sounds about right,” Silver Spoon commented, causing everyone else to stare at the girl who threw others across classrooms when she was irritated.

Snape fixed her with a hardened glare. “I trust you have no intentions of antagonizing Apple Bloom or her friends.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that.” Diamond Tiara waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve already negotiated an alliance with her and her herd.”

“You negotiated an alliance?” Snape switched the target of his glare. “With the Gryffindors?”

“Yup.” Diamond Tiara nodded. “If we get in trouble, they will come to our aid.”

“At what cost to you?” Snape probed.

“Mainly that we will help them in turn. A real bargain once you consider how much more assistance they are able to muster.” Diamond shrugged. “Why, just the fact that I can sic Apple Bloom on anycreature that threatens my Draco Malfoy makes it well worth the effort.”

Snape continued to glower at Diamond Tiara for a few more seconds before saying to the room in general. “I hope none of you have any lingering doubts as to why Miss Tiara is primus and Mr. Lee is not.”

Another murmur washed through the chamber as many present sent respectful looks Diamond Tiara’s way.

“Which reminds me,” Silver Spoon said. “As primus, can Diamond add to Barnaby Lee’s punishment? He did attack our allies after all.”

Everyone in the room went still, then an older boy said. “His parents would have sworn allegiance when they got their marks, and that allegiance would default to the heir of Slytherin, or in this case, the primus.”

Most occupants of the room proceeded to go several shades paler and Barnaby began to visibly sweat.

“Which means?” Silver Spoon queried.

It took a few seconds, but Professor Snape finally answered. “Miss Tiara may impose any number of punishments that she may deem appropriate. For example, she has the right to decree financial penalties, levy a period of confinement, force an arranged marriage, inflict physical punishment, or let the situation go with a stern warning.”

The occupants of the room lost a few more shades of their collective coloring.

“I would recommend the final option as Mr. Lee was unaware of the alliance at the time he committed the infraction.” Professor Snape finished. “Do not forget, Mr. Lee has had adequate sanctions imposed already.”

“Oooh. I know what to do.” Silver Spoon said and began to excitedly whisper into Diamond Tiara’s ear.

Diamond Tiara broke into a wide grin. “I like it,” she declared. “It will make the Crusaders happy, fulfill our side of the alliance, and prove we can do something that they failed at.”

Anyone wagering that the people in the room couldn’t have gotten any paler would have lost that bet.





A casual observer would describe Hogsmeade as a village out of a Christmas card. From her seat in the quaint Three Broomsticks pub, Nymphadora Tonks skimmed a sensational story from the "Daily Prophet". She snorted, "Harry's harem? What sort of nonsense is that?" The picture showed Harry and his betrothed hugging a clearly-distraught girl while another girl with a large bow, in her hair looked over them protectively. Their school robes clearly showed that they were in Hogwarts. It was a pity that wizard pictures were monochrome in the paper, but the article claimed one had purple hair and the other a striking red.

The pub's owner, Rosmerta, stopped by with a mug of butterbeer and said, "Can you believe that? If he weren't already engaged, I'd think that the Prophet was trying to get him married off. I mean, he's inherited the Potter fortune, his animagus form would melt any girl's heart, and he's supposed to be the secret backup seeker for Gryffindor."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "That's all rumor and speculation."

Pointing to the picture, Rosemerta said, "You do have to admit he looks awfully comfortable with those three."

A commotion at the floo caught their attention. A witch held back a laugh while her companion gave a groan from the prone position. Tonks rushed over and helped the witch pull the man to his feet. "Wotcher, Clementine," said Tonks. "Is this who I think it is?"

Nodding, Clementine replied, "Wotcher, Tonks. This is my friend Jason." Turning to the man, she said, "Jason, this is my friend, Nymphadora Tonks."

Weakly, Jason said, "Give me a minute. I think my stomach is still at your end of the floo."

Rosmerta led the three to Nymphadora's booth and said, "Why don’t you rest a moment? I'll get you a nice pot of chamomile tea."

Once they were seated, Tonks asked, "Is this your boyfriend?"

Weakly, Jason said, "Clementine is very special to me. I wouldn't give her up for the world."

Smiling, Clementine added, "I can't believe how lucky we were to find each other. We're like two sides of the same coin."

With a little more vigor, Jason said, "Clementine said we were meeting a friend who was down in the dumps. Tell us, what can we do to help?"

Tonks replied, "You two have done me a world of good just by visiting. I had thought I was going to have to spend the rest of my life stuck in a pureblood's world. But, you would not believe what just happened!" Her voice cracked at the last declaration.

Anxiously, the others asked, "What?"

"I get to be the first exchange student to a whole new world!" Again, Tonks's voice cracked.

With concern, Clementine said, "You've got to be more careful, or you'll end up a little hoarse."





The denizens of the dingy bar had long ago learned that curiosity was a dangerous pastime. Still, they could not help but stare as Faras Nahr waddled up to the bar. She glared back at them with equal intensity.

The stool groaned in protest as its metal legs bowed under the weight. The perspiring pink patron pronounced, "I'll have the usual."

The bartender shrugged and brought a tea service for one, including a dented metal teapot and a clean glass. He tried not to wince as he watched her empty the sugar bowl into the glass.

Her meaty fingers brought the glass to her lips. She grimaced as the familiar flavor assaulted her taste buds. The air purification charm kept the rest of the local flavor away from her as she scanned the crowd. She had always felt a sense of wrongness in this place, but there was something a bit different this time. On a whim, she cast a true sight charm.

The magic revealed the true ugliness in the room. It was as pleasant as a hands-on experiment in scatology. Unexpectedly, something shown through, like a coprolite transformed into a diamond. The effete face under the turban belonged in the classroom, not in this uncivilized wasteland. Perhaps he, too, had been victimized by Rutter's insanity. Perhaps he could be recruited to the cause.

With a predatory smile, she turned to the bartender and said, "Barkeep, please send a strawberry daiquiri to the gentleman in that booth with my compliments."

With a shrug, the bartender delivered the order. The woman watched as her target turned his head to follow the bartender's direction. Their eyes locked. A smile came to the lips in the back of his head. This had to be destiny.
> Chapter 63: Flash Dance
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The snow-covered roof of Platform 9 3/4 did nothing to keep the bitterly cold wind streaming along the tracks from stealing the warmth from the crowds that anxiously waited. The strategically-placed warming charms, however, kept families and friends comfortable as they impatiently awaited the bright red locomotive that pulled the Hogwarts Express. Most vibrated with ill-concealed anticipation of seeing their children for the first time in over three months. The train had not even come to a complete stop before its precious cargo streamed out, eager for the love that the necessities of school had barred.

Emma Granger stood among fellow first-year Gryffindor parents as she earned the distinction of being the first to locate the object of her desire. "Hermione! Children!" she screamed as she balanced on tip-toes, waving an arm over her head. "This way! Over here!"

A purple-haired girl led the swift stream of students that snaked through the crowd. Unlike the bulk of the crowd, they were unencumbered by heavy student trunks. Eagerly, they welcomed the embrace of waiting family, for the most part.

“Where’s Mum?” Dean asked, fending off Eva and Rosie who were trying their best to hug their older brother.

“Your parents are waiting on the non-magical side of the barrier,” Neville’s grandmother said, watching as the Patil twins closed in on their own mother and father. “And Luna’s father was held up at the office; she is to go home with the Bates to be collected later tonight.”

“Princess Hope.” Lyra gave a formal curtsey to the Hufflepuff. “Come here, please. We are your ride home.” An absent gesture indicated Owlowiscious perched on the back of a bench, wearing a harnessed pouch.

“I would have been perfectly fine staying at the school,” the little blonde absently said, struggling with a cage holding a large grey owl.

“Don’t be like that,” Lyra countered, wrapping her arms around Harry. “Your father is very anxious to meet you.”

Clouded Hope gave a half-hearted scowl, but said nothing further as her eyes went unfocused.

“I wish Mum and Dad were here,” Ron complained under his breath.

“You know they had to go visit Charlie and couldn’t take all of us,” Ginny reprimanded. “We’re spending the break in Ponyville.”

“I know.” Ron sulked. “I just wish they were here.”

“There’s no point in pouting,” Percy said. “We’ll see them during spring break.”

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Scootaloo said, wrapping the redhead in a hug. “You're going to have a blast with us.”

“No,” Lyra piped up. “No explosions. You are forbidden to touch anything even remotely resembling explosives this break, not even a magic bean.”

“I didn’t mean,” Scootaloo started.

“No explosives,” Lyra reiterated.

“Aren’t you over reacting?” Dan Granger asked.

“You haven’t seen what they did to a certain field on the Apple farm,” Lyra said. “This is a reasonable precaution. Anyway, it’s time to head out; we’ve got ponies waiting for us.”

“We need to stop by Diagon Alley, first,” Sweetie Belle said. “Our new wands are done, and we need to pick them up.”

Lyra sighed. “Get in line for the floo, then.”





Nymphadora sighed as she forgot for the hundredth time that hooves were not as effective as fingers at scratching one’s head. Living with ponies for several months had yet to dampen many of her subconscious gestures. With a harrumph, she placed her rainbow-swirled forehoof back on the ground and reflected.

Her first sign that this assignment wasn’t exactly going to be what she had been expecting had come the morning of departure. Only two other applicants had been in the room at the Leaky Cauldron when Nymphadora, Clementine, and her boyfriend, Jason had arrived. Her friend had insisted that they would see her off. So, they waited with the two boys, who had been in Hufflepuff, for the representative from the Ministry to arrive. Why they weren’t meeting in the Ministry itself, was a mystery.

To make matters worse, the Ministry representative didn’t show up until a good hour after the allotted time. It was at that point that things diverged from the prepared script.

“There are only six of you?” the woman had said upon seeing the occupants of the room, stress and chagrin evident on her features as a large owl wearing a harness rested on her shoulder. “We were supposed to have seven to equal what they sent to us.”

“Actually,” Nymphadora said, “Clementine and Jason are just here to see me off.”

“That won’t do.” The woman had grimaced. “This is much too important to muck up. Congratulations, you two are drafted.”

“Um,” Jason had said, “I’m a squib.”

“At this point, even a muggle would do,” the woman had declared. “We’re running late as it is. We don’t even have time for the briefing I prepared. Oh well, it can’t be helped. Into the bag with the lot of you. Remember, you are representing the Ministry, so be on your best behavior.”

A young woman with a broom, who had been unobtrusively going about her chores, had squawked. "I'm just a barmaid!" That explained how the ministry worker got to six.

“Wait, you can’t do this.” Clementine had objected. 

“Watch me.” The woman had brandished her wand. “You’ll thank me later. Levicorpus.”

Just like that Nymphadora had found herself stuffed into the owl’s pouch with the other five victims. 

“I can’t believe she just did that!” Clementine had shouted while they once again waited. “I’ll lose my job if I don’t show up for work.”

“This pays well enough.” One of the Hufflepuff boys had comforted her. “She’s right; you’ll thank her later.”

The other Hufflepuff had added, "The Ministry will handle all the details on their end. What could possibly go wrong?"

Clementine had brooded, but had gone to stand next to Jason. She hadn't had enough time to sulk before the situation had become completely surreal.

Being confronted by a large number of small colorful ponies upon exiting the bag had been the last thing Nymphadora expected. Well, maybe not the last thing, but it had been extremely low on her list. 

Nymphadora was ashamed to admit, but she had stood slacked-jawed with the rest of the humans as they were greeted. She still couldn’t recall the exact greeting the large Princess had given. Nymphadora had been too astonished by her appearance and the appearance of the two other princesses flanking the largest equine in the room. They had all been preternaturally beautiful.

Luckily, the welcome speech had taken long enough for some form of lucidity to take hold. Luckier still, one of the Hufflepuff boys had taken the lead and relayed a sufficiently formal reply.

Next, they had been presented with a floating pillow holding seven rings and were encouraged to take one. Apparently, they would be spending most of their time as ponies.

At first, the ring hadn't worked for Jason, but the princess had done something with her glowing horn to overcome that small hurdle. 

The main disturbance had come when Nymphadora had tried her own ring. While she had been still adjusting to the sudden loss of height, the unicorn pony closest to her had let out an ear-splitting scream before vaulting backwards as she desperately escaped the room.

Nymphadora had looked at the retreating pony. “What? Did someone prank my deodorant charm again?” She had then caught sight of her own hoof, and it had been her own turn to scream. Unexpected holes in one’s arms would do that to anyone.

It turned out that she was some sort of pony monster, something that most ponies had thought were nothing more than legends. As it was, she was very happy she didn’t need to drink blood to survive. Furthermore, the shapeshifting abilities put her prior capabilities to shame. Fitting in with the ponies was easy enough with that skill.

Granted, Nymphadora hadn’t been content with being one of the crowd. It had been a great disappointment that shockingly pink fur wasn’t so shocking here. However, it became apparent that although there were ponies with rainbow manes, rainbow fur was unheard of. Presto, instant uniqueness, and thus began the integration into pony academic society.

Cultural differences had caused more than a little drama. The two Hufflepuff boys quickly learned the hazards of being unattached colts, regardless of what might or might not have graced their flanks. Now there was an extremely attached Hufflepuff boy and one paranoid and skittish boy who apparently was as bent as a nine bob note. He could scarcely believe his popularity among the fillies. Some seemed to take his preference as a personal challenge, while others relished the thought that he was sure to add another stallion to their herd once they persuaded him to join.

On the other hand, Clementine and Jason swiftly learned that "monogamous" was an epithet of the highest order. Nymphadora was positive that the only reason Clementine was still in one piece was due to the fact that she had claimed to be attached to the couple, as evidenced by her rooming with them. While that put Jason in the smallest legal herd arrangement, the proclamation served as a magnet to single mares desperately fishing for a stable herd and a chance at motherhood.

Despite the change of physiology, the transfigured humans had retained their dietary preferences. More than one cow had run away, practically screaming in terror at the hungry looks they threw her way. While the cafeteria served fare worthy of a four-star restaurant, it was all tailored to pony tastes -- herbivorous pony tastes. The discovery of the griffon restaurant had been a godsend. Their first meal had brought a round of laughter from the patrons, with the carnivores in attendance egging the transplants on with heartfelt recommendations for entrees from the non-pony menu, disguising the ingredients by naming them in Fancy. The owner had even announced that the meal would be free if they could finish the fare. It had been hard to say which was stronger, the crushing anguish of losing out on the profits from the most expensive meals on the menu, or the unbound joy at the announcement that the transplants would be taking full advantage of the royal meal vouchers to give the restaurant their continued patronage.

Nymphadora, on the other hand, had not been eating. She simply had not been hungry. That had been worrying by itself, and her anxiety had been compounded by the fact that every few days she was regurgitating a pink slime that her new body seemed to have created on its own. She could not understand how she could continue to produce mass when she had consumed nothing. Despite her fasting, she had more vigor than she had ever had as a human, and, despite the rigors of her curriculum, she had never felt better in her life. 

Despite the hiccoughs along the way, living with ponies had proven to be more enjoyable than anything she had experienced before. Nymphadora would not trade that for anything. 





Sitting alone in his office, Dumbledore contemplated his plans for the future over of gallon jug of raw firewhisky. He had been right predicting that change would be coming swiftly and unapologetically. The pureblood infrastructure had been decimated. Like a doomed building, it had imploded as its supports were quickly and systematically removed. The first Wizengamot meeting with Minister Lovegood presiding had lasted five consecutive days and had taken a wrecking ball to tradition.

The trials alone would leave a mark for years to come. Fudge had been stripped of all of his holdings and sent to Azkaban for life. The man had been responsible for the deaths of so many citizens that he was lucky to have avoided the veil. The witches and wizards who had attacked the home of a seated Wizengamot member hadn’t been so fortunate. Now, the remaining pureblood faction was mainly populated by the heirs of those convicted. There was almost no political experience remaining on that front.

What remained could not stop the complete uprooting of all laws pertaining to pureblood privilege. The mere distinction was now proscribed in all future laws. Purebloods were just normal wizards as far as the law was concerned. Surprisingly, there had not been an uproar over the cultural upheaval. The average wizard seemed to embrace the change, even as the prominent purebloods raged. What was once a powerful, well-funded, and vocal minority had been effectively neutered.

The bloodbath in the Wizengamot was quickly followed by a housecleaning in the Ministry. Those whose only qualification was heritage were summarily dismissed as meritocracy was asserted. Similarly, those who refused to take the vows to follow the new code of ethics were left to find employment elsewhere.

His school had proven far from immune to the upheaval. No one would have faulted Dumbledore for anticipating irregularities fomented from the seven apprentices that Severus had acquired. Surprisingly, aside from some spectacular incidents in the first-year potions class, they had integrated seamlessly into life at Hogwarts. The young women had quickly learned to have one of their number assigned to each of the two most maladroit students. Each designated tutor would walk her charge through each step whenever a potion was to be brewed. Nopony wanted to spend another day stuck at four inches tall and fleeing from Mouse.

What was unexpected was the sudden and complete exodus from the Muggle Studies classes. The subject, which was already bereft of members from the Slytherin house, lost all participants from the other houses. In one voice, the students had proclaimed that the professor had no idea what he was talking about. When it was brought to light that the Ministry-approved curriculum was being followed, the students applied the same observation to the Ministry.

For a full month, the Muggle Studies classroom remained empty. It had taken two weeks for the professors to discover the source of the student body's expertise. The answer was intertwined with the cause of the disappearance of late homework from three of the four houses. The Gryffindor’s had a working telly in their common room! The prefect, Dunbar, had been holding that contamination hostage in exchange for completing assignments. Only the Slytherin house had been immune to the temptation, though admittedly only through the application of ignorance. Some of their members had since started to join in, unable to resist the opportunity to pet ponies as they watched how muggles actually lived.

The unprecedented house unity had prevented the headmaster from removing the unwelcome influence. Worse, the professors were so attached to the increased proficiency their students were displaying due to the motivation that they leveraged the cursed box's influence. The faculty had suffered through weeks of painstaking research after the students' curfew, with untold amounts of butterbeer, firewhisky, and salty snacks to bolster their spirits. The end result had been a complete overhaul of the Muggle Studies program. The weapons policy was also modified to include confiscation of any and all lightsabers, fusion cutters, flamethrowers, disruptors, blasters, or phasers. The merfolk were still upset over the entire incident of attempting to fish dwarven style, despite the students making sure the squid was on the other side of the lake at the time. Sometimes, the Weasley twins were just too clever for their own good. Which reminded him, dwarven fishing rods needed to go on the list of banned items.

What survived from Dumbledore's prior plans could fit on the head of a pin with room to spare. He was now forced to rethink every angle as each of his carefully executed projects had been swept away by a tsunami of change. It would do no good to lament the loss. It would do no good to lament his inability to stem the tide. Now was the time to adapt to the new rules and prepare himself to lead the next generation into the future.

Still, it almost seemed as though the spirit of chaos itself had descended upon the wizarding world.





Amelia sat at her desk attacking her most despised enemy, paperwork. The drudgery had been her life for the past month, along with unsettling nausea that seemed to crop up at inopportune times. Even more than politics, pushing paper was the bane of her existence. Worse, it was all that her subordinates would allow her to do right now. Every time she attempted to pull rank, they would just smile, nod, then stun her if she attempted to go out on a call. 

“Hey boss, I’ve got that report you were asking for,” Shacklebolt said, entering her office. 

“Thank you, Kingsley.” Amelia said, tapping the last empty spot on her desk, indicating where she wished him to place the new offending paperwork.

Shacklebolt put down the report then hesitated a second before asking, “How are you feeling today?”

Fighting back a growl, Amelia sighed instead and said, “I am not a porcelain doll, Kingsley.”

“No, of course not,” Shacklebolt relented before quickly exiting the office.

Amelia sighed again and thought back to the day the annoying behavior started. It had been a long time since she had last remembered being sick; she simply hadn’t had the luxury of having the time for being ill. Having been forced to rush from that early meeting had left her officers uneasy. She had barely regained her seat to continue where they had left off, when Scrimgeour had waved his wand at her to perform a diagnostic.

“There’s no need for that,” she had complained. “It’s just a stomach bug.”

Scrimgeour had studied his wand before replying. “I think it might be more serious than that.”

“Oh?” Amelia had asked, dreading the prospect of having to spend some time at St. Mungo's.

Placing his wand back in its holster, Scrimgeour fixed her with a wry grin. “So, who’s the lucky father?”





The suburban home had been recently remodeled to better suit the owners' new lifestyle. The fireplace was new, the old one hadn’t been big enough. Now, there was a tasteful brick addition dominating one wall of the family room. In place of a grate, runes had been etched to prevent accidental fire damage, a prudent precaution when your new fireplace was large enough to walk into. There had been some unexpected side effects, though. 

The surge that had come when the new addition had been commissioned had destroyed every bit of electronics in the house from the brand new personal computer down to the digital wristwatch. Ordinarily, magic was not compatible with electronics, but having a friend in Twilight and Lyra led to the quick integration of the opposing technologies into a harmonious whole. The giant crystal that doubled as a decoration in the chandelier in the center of the house allowed the two to coexist.

The house was now a showcase of the latest in both wizarding and muggle technology. The altar to morning had been upgraded with wizarding appliances, while the underground recreation room now sported a projection television with 3D stereo. The children would be receiving flip phones as presents this year, phones fitted with small crystals that would allow them to operate anywhere the children might go.

“We have our own floo?!” Hermione exclaimed, admiring the newest feature of the family room. “That’s wonderful! I thought we couldn’t get one.”

“The owner of the house is required to be magical,” Dan said, brushing ash off a pant leg. “It wasn’t that difficult to acquire one after that hurdle was passed.”

Hermione gasped. “You can use magic?”

In response Dan took his wand out of its holster and waggled his eyebrows. “Your mother is much more adapt than I am, but I know a trick or two.”

“This way, you can keep in contact with your friends over breaks and during the summer.” Emma beamed at her daughter. “Ron and Ginny are at ‘the Burrow’. Luna is at ‘the Rookery’. Parvati can be reached at ‘Blessed Garden'. Neville is at ‘the Longhouse’. Which reminds me, I need to talk to you about him.”

“Neville?” Hermione questioned.

“Yes.” Emma’s voice dropped in pitch as sorrow filled her being. “His parents were hurt very badly by members of the Lestrange family. I don’t think he’ll take it out on you, but I’m sure the news won’t be welcome.”

“Lestrange?” Hermione bit her lower lip. “Like our ancestor?”

“Yes,” Emma said. “Neville’s granmum was livid when she found out we were related. I’m positive her first inclination was to cut off all contact with us.”

“His granmum is scary,” Dan added.

“Yes, she is,” Emma agreed. “It took some fast talking to calm her down, which is a good thing. She ended up being the one who informed us that we could expel members from the family if certain crimes were committed. I swear, she was giddy when Dan did just that.”

“Daddy did?” Hermione scrunched her nose in worry. “I thought we were related through you. He’s descended from the same house?”

“No,” Emma shook her head with a laugh. “He’s the regent of the House Lestrange. The family rules are a little sexist. . . Okay, the rules are a lot sexist, but there are ways around them. Regardless, we now have more than enough money to significantly expand the practice. In fact, next week, we are going down to sort through the family vault and see what’s what, not to mention we have a family manor that hasn’t been touched in a decade. Our break is going to be spent exploring.”

“You should have seen the look on Mr. Moody’s face when we asked him if he’d like to take a contract to sort through the Lestrange vault and manor. The man reacted as if Christmas came early this year. On top of that, both Lyra and Twilight were tickled pink at our invite to join us.” Dan chuckled

“We would have already been done with the preliminary inspection if not for the paperwork granting us amnesty for whatever we might find being held up,” Emma said. “The Lestranges are known as a dark family.”

“I do hope we don’t find anything too terrible.” Hermione said.

"Speaking of terrible." Dan said. "Care to explain why we received an owl informing us that you are strictly forbidden from explaining any concepts originating from the sci-fi channel to the Weasley twins?" 

"Um." Hermione winced. "Professor McGonagall overheard me explaining what an orbital lance is and the twins were tinkering with the idea of using phoenix power to launch a prototype."





Croaker relaxed on the couch with a woman snuggling against him on either side while a third massaged his neck and shoulders. No longer was he married to his work; he had a life outside the office. Even with the increased workload, the time he spent at home and truly away from work increased drastically. If it weren’t for the creation of the Department of Interdimensional Affairs, headed by Arthur Weasley, he might not have had the option. Fortunately, that department had taken over the integration and education of the immigrants, leaving his own department the opportunity to pore over the influx of literature the Equestrian government had helpfully provided. Croaker had been forced to limit the number of hours his employees were allowed to access the material. After the fourth spouse came complaining about not seeing their wife or husband for a week, it seemed prudent to remind everyone they were working to live, not living to work.

Magical knowledge had been effectively doubled with the arrival of the tomes from Equestria. The ponies were filling in blanks for the wizards just as assuredly as they were having blanks filled in for themselves. What would be taught to the next generation of children would be much more complete and much more correct than the current curriculum. 

There had been some bumps, of course. The discovery that his magic considered him married to his three companions had been a not-unwelcomed surprise. A cursory visit to the records department showed he was legally bound, as were the other men who had physical relationships with a herd. It was evident that human and pony unions were for life. If his wives' possessiveness were any measure, anyone foolish enough to attempt a casual relationship would be in a world of pain.

All in all, life was good. Worries were melting away, and there was only one prophecy remaining intact in the entire collection. That one essentially said that prophecies were worthless. 

The future looked bright.





Sirius Black still had a difficult time believing his luck. Every morning he awoke expecting to see the familiar grey walls of his cell. Seeing the red and gold walls instead always brought a deluge of euphoria, a feeling he had long thought to be gone forever. After all those long and hellish years, he was free. That alone would have made him happy, but that was only the first of many boons he had received in the last several months. It was almost overwhelming that it was only the start.

Being united with Remus could only have been made better if James were there as well. Having the ex-werewolf at his side brought a comfort that defied explanation. Friendship had a warmth that his dementor-besieged mind had forgotten but never stopped longing for.

The only fly in the ointment was his loss of custody of Harry. Alice had, during her time as head of house, signed away his dominant rights over Harry’s welfare. Now, two women would have to meet their ends before he could claim the responsibility. After meeting the woman who claimed to be Harry’s mother, he had no wish for that to come to pass. The green-haired woman did Lily’s memory proud. He did not begrudge Alice her decision; the woman had no idea if Sirius were susceptible to Dumbledore’s manipulations and had moved to secure Harry’s best interests. Sirius was disappointed but not angry over the outcome.

Then there was his current ladyfriend. He hadn’t been out for a month before she had made it clear that she was interested. Truthfully, being the pursued instead of the pursuer had terrified him at first, but once the initial chase was over, they had found a liking for each other’s company. The match should have come as no surprise since his best friend was such a scholarly type. That he was attracted to a woman with similar attributes was not a stretch. Feeling the soft caress of gentle lips against his own was a sensation he hadn’t thought he would ever experience again.

She was fairly odd though. Her animagus form, was of all things, human. Her true form was that of a unicorn, a purple unicorn. Twilight had been disappointed that, as an animagus himself, Sirius could not take the form of a stallion, but that did nothing to hinder their relationship. Their differences only accented their similarities. In fact, the cultural shock was in of itself amusing. Twilight wanted to introduce him to her friends Pinkie and Rainbow Dash, a custom that Sirius could only guess was a prelude for her introducing him to her parents.

With a goofy grin on his face, Sirius lazily lay in his bed, content with his lot in life.

Without warning, a voice echoed throughout stately Black Manor. “Sirius Orion Black! You get your mangy mutt arse in here right this moment! You hear me?! Right this moment!”

Groaning, Sirius rolled out of bed to see what Narcissa wanted. He hadn’t left any pranks lying in wait, had he? If so, it must have been a doozey; she sounded upset.

Several minutes later, he found his cousin and her son in the tapestry room, staring intently at the Black's family tree.

“What’s up, Nissy?” Sirius asked as he swaggered into the room.

“Don’t you dare ‘what’s up’ me,” Narcissa shot back. “What is the meaning of this?” 

Shrugging, Sirius turned to study the self-updating piece of family magic. There, connected by a line to the spot where his birth had triggered the inclusion of his portrait on the cloth was a new picture. Sirius gasped as he witnessed the pair of pictures alternate between depictions. When he was shown in human form, he was paired with the most perfect woman in the world. Aloud, he read the name embroidered underneath, " Twilight Sparkle Black."

Narcissa gave a feral growl, and her son laughed when the pictures changed. Now, a large black dog was linked with a purple unicorn. Underneath the dog's portrait was the name Sirius Orion Black Sparkle.





The dreary, dark dome that had first been used to trap her in the cavern had been replaced with a depiction of the skies, tracking the changes from day to night and back. What had been a barren cell had been transformed into a semblance of a room in a modest bed and breakfast. However, a gilded cage was still very much a cage. The prisoner lay on a large four poster bed, reading a book from the new world where her ersatz daughter was going to school. The prisoner didn't even bother looking up as a section of wall melted away, announcing the arrival of her captor, who had thoughtfully provided everything.

“You don’t have to keep me in here,” she stated. “It’s not like I want to interfere with you or your hive.”

A chuckle was her answer. “We’ve had this conversation many times already. You know I can’t risk that.”

The prisoner sighed. “You're making it hard for me to hate you.”

“I can feel that.”

“You do know it’s not fair to Shiny.” The prisoner huffed.

“He’ll get over it.”

“We don’t have to be enemies,” the prisoner repeated for the umpteenth time.

“I agree.”

“You’re impossible,” the prisoner snapped.

“And you’re cute when you’re mad.”

Silence prevailed for several seconds. “Please tell me you brought some apples this time.”

“From the Apple family's farm, no less.”

“First chance I get, I’m going to buck you to the moon.”

“If that means my hive survives, it will be worth it.”

“. . . pass the butter.”





An old man sat in the most comfortable chair in his study, a quilted blanket shielding him from the cold as the dying fire glowed in the fireplace. Though he had sent the maid away for the evening, he felt no desire to seek his bed. So lost in thought was he, that he almost missed the sound of one of the room's windows opening.

“Who’s there?” he demanded, turning toward the disturbance, finding a strange woman climbing in the unorthodox entrance. “A burglar, then?”

“I am not here to rob you,” the woman said, turning to close the window behind her.

“An assassin then?” the old man demanded without fear.

“I mean you no harm.”

“Then why are you here?” he demanded.

“I felt death approaching.”

He chuckled without humor. “I thought you meant me no harm.”

“Your death shall not be of my making.”

Another chuckle. “That still doesn’t explain why you are here.”

The woman knelt before him, placing her hand on his blanket covered knee. “No one should be forced to face their end alone. Where is your family?”

This time the chuckle was dry. “They decided they wanted to spend the holidays in the Americas. I didn’t feel up to accompanying them.”

“They should be here.”

“They have their own lives to live. I’ve outlived my wife and my children. What’s left are people who see me as naught but a bothersome old man with a loose claim of familiarity.” Bitterness soaked the words.

“I am sure they love you,” the woman insisted.

“Be that as it may,” the man started, but didn’t finish the sentence.

The strange woman patiently waited for him to continue.

“This is the end then?” he asked after a while.

“I’m afraid so,” the woman said sadly.

“Good. I look forward to seeing my wife once more,” the old man stated. “Do not cry for me.”

The woman smiled up at him. “Tell me of those you have cared for most in life,” she prodded.

So, he began talking, sharing his memories for hours on end. The fire long past flaming, with even the embers faded to ash. When he felt he could barely talk anymore, he said his final words. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for staying and listening to the foolish ramblings of an old man.”

“I heard no foolishness.”

“Thank you.” He sighed, closing his eyes never to reopen them.

The woman stood, dusting off her dress. She leaned forward and placed a single kiss on his forehead. “Thank you for the love. It is well aged.”





In the north the, landscape was hardly more than a solid sheet of ice. Its perfection was suddenly marred by the appearance of a small crack.

“Crystals.”
> Chapter 64: Home, Hearth, and Heartbreak
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The back seat of the rickety Mini Mk. IV was the battleground where countless skirmishes of sibling rivalries had erupted. It didn't matter whether the trip were long or short. The younger Thomas sisters would find an excuse to raise Cain before they reached their destination. Having their older brother, who had just come home from boarding school for the first time in three months, in the car did nothing to quench the flames.

Sandwiched between his sisters, Dean rolled his eyes as Eva snickered, "Pretty pink pegasus pony!" He had long ago abandoned his attempt to persuade her that the proper color was fuchsia.

“I wanna play with your wand,” Rosie whined pitifully at her older brother, her face set with stubborn determination.

“I told you, I can’t do magic outside of school. I’ll get in trouble,” Dean snapped, his patience waning. “You’ll just have to wait until you go to Hogwarts and get your own wand to play with.”

“I wanna play now!” Rosie snapped in return. “I can’t wait that long.”

“Rosie!” Dean’s father snapped from the front passenger seat. “Enough!”

Rosie crossed her arms, her face going red with anger. “We’re not getting toys this year. Dean has gotta share his,” she demanded.

“A wand is not a toy,” Dean’s mother called out.

“Wait? We're not getting toys this year?” Dean asked.

Dean’s father sighed. “I’m sorry, Dean. After paying for your schooling and some other unexpected expenses, we’re a little strapped for cash this year. I’m afraid Father Christmas will be bringing socks and underwear. We’ll manage, but it will mean tightening our belts for a couple months.”

“The car broke down,” Eva informed Dean. “We’re probably having spaghetti and beans for supper again tonight.”

“Spaghetti and beans?” Dean said. “I haven’t had spaghetti since going to school.”

“I’m sick of spaghetti,” Rosie announced, arms still crossed.

“Well, you're getting a break from it tonight,” Dean’s mum said. “I’ll be making something special in celebration of your brother coming home for break.”

“Yeah!” Rosie bounced. “I want steak and kidney pie.”

“You're close,” Dean’s father said. “It’s mock shepherd’s pie.”

“We didn't have enough to buy mince; maybe we’ll be able to manage a proper steak and kidney pie next week,” Dean’s mum added.

“I think I have a roasting joint and some offal in my trunk,” Dean helpfully offered.

“You're keeping food in your trunk?” Dean’s father winced. “It’s most likely spoiled after that train ride.”

“Nah.” Dean shook his head. “My trunk came with a week's worth of groceries for a family of four, and they’re under stasis spells for freshness.”

“I don’t remember the salesman mentioning that perk,” Dean’s mum said. “That does increase the worth of a student’s trunk. If we had known, we’d be buying those instead of going to the grocers every two weeks.”

“Oh, they don’t come with a student trunk,” Dean said. “Apple, Sweetie, and Scoot got us all new trunks as a present.”

“That was awful generous of them,” Dean’s mum said.

“They like giving presents.” Dean frowned. “Maybe a little too much, really. They are constantly dragging us to the mall to play dress up. All of the clothes I brought with me have mysteriously vanished.”

Dean’s father chuckled. “Is that right? Sounds like normal behavior. Which is your girlfriend?”

Dean thought for a second before replying. “All of them?”

“Aiming high, I see.” Dean’s father smiled. “That’s my boy. He has three girls vying for his attention.”

“There are nine girls in the Gryffindor herd,” Dean informed him.

“Plan on keeping them all for yourself then?” Dean’s mum joined her husband in chuckling.

“I have to share them with the other blokes, I guess,” Dean relented.

“Of course, you do dear.” The humor left Dean's mum's voice. “I look forward to hearing how you work that out when you're older. But, seriously now, you have groceries in your trunk you’re willing to share?”

“Yes, Mum. They are in the kitchen. We managed to keep Sweetie out.”

“. . . What?”





What the Lunar Ballroom lacked in size it made up in privacy. Still, it  was one of the larger rooms in Canterlot Castle, and it was now packed  full of ponies as the owl-borne pouch had released its contents with a  belch that rattled the one-way stained glass windows. With unfailing  accuracy, small ponies and one large pet gravitated to their individual  family members, leaving a small yellow unicorn to face a group of  nervously smiling elders. Lacking any hesitation, one of the mares  stepped forward to address the filly.

“Hello, Clouded Hope,” she softly said. “My name is Twilight Velvet. I am your grandmare.”

The filly stared at the older mare, frowning and not moving from her spot.

One of the stallions nudged the other, encouraging him to step forward as well.

“Hello, Clouded Hope,” the strapping young stallion said, copying his mother before taking a deep breath. “My name is Shining Armor, and I’m your father.”

Clouded Hope switched her glare to him, continuing to frown. He continued to smile hopefully, waiting for a response. A full minute passed in a silent standoff, making the older pony wilt under the gaze of the younger. Shuffling his hooves uncomfortably, he tried again. “Clouded Hope?”

The young filly took a step backwards before proclaiming, “You’re not my father! Standard Issue is!” She then spun on her hind hooves and stalked through the nearest door, rushing to get away.

After the door slammed shut, the elder stallion of the group let out a disappointed sigh. “That could have gone better.”

“Perhaps you should go after her,” Twilight Velvet said, nudging Shining.

“Don’t bother,” Twilight Sparkle said. “Give her some time to cool down."

Velvet glared at her daughter. "How can you be so heartless? Do you have any idea where that filly could wander off to? In her state, do you know what sort of trouble she could stumble into?"

"Mops." *crash* "That's the custodian's closet."

“It is?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Though, that was exceedingly cliché when you stop to think about it,” Twilight Sparkle continued.

“Twilight,” the senior Twilight reprimanded.

“What?” the younger Twilight protested. “It was.”

“Now is not the time to complain about overused tropes,” her father sternly warned her.





The crisp Ponyville air didn’t hold the same bone-numbing chill of either the Scottish Highlands or London proper, but winter still made its presence known. Since fur coats were de rigueur, most citizens only added a scarf and maybe a hat as a concession to the lower temperatures. Ponies wandered about town, going about their business as they would on any normal day in this season. For one pair of ponies, however, the imminent arrival of the Canterlot Local had given impetus to their vandalism. An earth pony mare held up a mouth-painted sign with her forehooves while her unicorn partner nailed it onto a support column, holding a claw hammer in her magic.

“Vinyl,” the exasperated dark grey earth pony of the pair said, “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

“You can’t be serious Octie,” the white unicorn with an electric blue mane replied. “You’re still having nightmares over your encounter with George. Heck, you go out of your way to avoid Rarity’s place.”

Octavia shivered before lying. “I do not.”

“Well then, let’s go browse her wares when we’re done here. I know you like trying on new dresses.”

A shudder ran down the spine of the earth pony. “Sure,” she said unconvincingly. “We could do that.”

Vinyl was spared the need to reply when one of the carriages disgorged its occupants. A large group was the most notable; it consisted of four of the six Element Bearers, a mint green unicorn, a large humanworld unicorn, six foals, and three human colts.

“Lookie thar,” Apple Bloom said, pointing to the sign Vinyl had just posted.

“All pony-eating luggage must be kept on a leash,” Sweetie Belle read in surprise.

“I wonder if the straps on our bookbags count as leashes,” Harry wondered out loud.

Vinyl turned to look at Octavia and pointed an accusatory hoof at Harry as the other group continued their conversation.

“Why is that even a thing?” Fred asked, running a hand through his red hair.

“They passed the ordinance at a town meeting several months ago,” Spike said with a sigh. “Rarity left George out by the front of her shop so he could enjoy the last of the good weather and sun himself. She even had a sign that read ‘Pony-eating chest, do not touch. Seriously, this is not a joke. George will eat you.’”

“Didn’t work very well, did it?” George Weasley asked.

“Au contraire.” Rarity waved a dismissive hoof. “Most of the townsponies were already well aware of George. It did, however, have the benefit of drawing out-of-towners intent on seeing a pony-eating chest for themselves. It has been a surprising boon for business. Though, in retrospect, copying an idea from Pinkie wasn’t the sanest thing I’ve ever done.”

“And watching ponies meet George for the first time is still hilarious,” Pinkie added; the fact that she hadn’t been there a split-second ago drew some attention.

The gathered ponies all turned to stare at Pinkie.

“When did you get here?” Percy voiced the thought running through the group's minds.

“Just now, silly,” Pinkie chirped, bouncing in place. “I just had to invite you all to the ‘Welcome Back from School (even though it’s only for a short time seeing how you’re only here for winter break)’ party that I’m throwing the day after tomorrow.” She stopped bouncing and zipped off. “I’ve got to go now, work to do don’t you know. See ya.”

There was some eye-blinking. Then, Fred ventured, “Is she. . .”

“Yes.” All of the Ponyville natives answered the half-asked question.

“How. . .” George followed up.

“It’s best not to ask,” the Ponyville natives chorused.

“But. . .” Percy said, pointing a finger in the direction of the retreating pink mare.

“That was just Pinkie being Pinkie.” The ponies cut him off.

“Percy Weasley? Is that you?” A female voice intruded before any reply could be given.

Turning, Percy beheld three mares staring at him expectantly. “Gracious? Bristle? Lace? I wasn’t expecting you to be waiting for me here.”

“You didn’t think we’d wait any longer than we had too, to see you again?” Bristle asked as Gracious trotted right up to Percy, standing on her hind legs to place her forehooves on Percy’s chest for balance.

“This is your human form then?” Dainty Lace mused, looking up at the taller male. “I can get used to it.”

“Why aren’t you a pony right now?” Gracious sharply asked, caressing his chest with her hooves.

“I didn’t want Fred and George to feel left out. They haven’t got their rings yet.”

“Well, don’t keep us waiting,” Gracious said. “Go ahead and change.”

“Gracious,” Dainty Lace admonished, “don’t scare him off again. Foal steps.”

Gracious huffed and dropped back down to four hooves. “Would you mind changing? We’d love to see you in your pony form,” she said in a much lighter tone.

“That’s better.” Bristle nodded, approvingly. “Percy Weasley, would you care to accompany us to Sugarcube Corner? A nice cup of hot cocoa would go down nicely right about now.”

“'Ere now, you girls need to slow down a bit. He jus’ got here an' hasn’t even had a chance to settle in yet,” Applejack objected.

In response, the three younger mares shot her withering glares.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Applejack let her eyes narrow. “While he’s here, he’s mah responsibility, mah kin. Don’t think Ah’m jus gonna let ya waltz right over an’ have yer way with him.”

The three mares’ ears flattened against their heads as the news sank in. “Sorry, Miss Applejack,” Dainty said for the group. “We didn’t mean to be so aggressive.”

“Ah know the score,” Applejack said. “Take it down a notch or two, ya hear?”

“Yes ma’am,” the three chorused, taking a respectful step back from Percy.

“Don’t worry,” Twilight said helpfully. “The social dynamics for humans are different than pony norms. Just give him some space and you’ll get what you want.”

“Twilight,” Applejack growled, “don’t encourage them.”

“Sorry.” 





The large table in the drawing room of stately Black Manor had a half-completed puzzle sitting on it, with a lone member of the Tonks family diligently working at filling in the holes. She was less than surprised when an owl flew into the room wearing a satchel. Since the wards redirected owls not associated with people keyed to the wards, she assumed that it was sent by Sirius’s lady. Absently, Andromeda Tonks reached out with her wand to tap the pouch.

“Ex dimittere,” she said, almost as an afterthought. 

With a fraternity-worthy belch, three ponies were deposited into the room. They all stared at her, expecting some reaction and obviously disappointed that they weren’t getting one.

“Yes?” Andromeda asked, studying the small horses. One was a brown unicorn and obviously male. The second was a light blue earth pony, female, and the third, also female, was another unicorn, but her coat was a chaotic swirl of clashing colors. “May I help you?”

“I can’t believe you!” the colorful unicorn exclaimed. “Three ponies pop out of a bag, and all you have to say is ‘Yes, may I help you.’”

“Nymphadora?” Andi asked, recognizing the voice. “Is that you? When you said you were going away for advanced schooling, you failed to mention it would be in Equestria. Welcome home. I missed you.”

“Your mother’s reaction is not what I was hoping for,” the male unicorn said.

“I’ll say,” the earth pony agreed.

“Yes, mum, it’s me. We’re home for Christmas break.” Nymphadora scowled. “Why aren’t you more surprised?”

Andi chuckled. “Sirius is dating a unicorn. She’s over all the time and I guess I’ve gotten used to the notion.”

“Dating a unicorn?” the male said. “He does realize that they come in swarms, doesn’t he? There really isn’t such a thing as dating just a unicorn.” He placed substantial emphasis on the last "a".

“Really now?” Andi asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” the earth pony said, wincing, as Andi placed her voice as Nymphadora’s friend Clementine's, “they get upset at the idea of one guy for one girl. They insist that each stallion gets at the very least two mares.”

“Oh?” Andi said and a sly grin spread across her face. “Why don’t we keep that to ourselves and let Sirius find out for himself.”





Sweetie Belle was bewildered to see a small crowd gathered in front of the boutique when she and Rarity approached their home. The fact that they were in a circle surrounding the trunk that she had sent Rarity was an even bigger surprise. Having witnessed first-hand the security spell, the unicorn filly was not surprised that the onlookers kept a respectful distance away from the artifact.

As she watched, a lone pegasus crept up on the trunk, keeping wary eyes on it. Crouching in anticipation, the pegasus reached up and quickly tapped the brass plate with a steady hoof. The ensuring chaos brought cheers from the watching spectators.

“Forty-two seconds!” a voice announced, and Sweetie Belle looked over to see an earth pony with a stopwatch turn to mark the time on a blackboard covered with names. Spitting out the chalk, the pony said, “She was just three seconds away from the record of forty-five seconds, tough luck.”

Mouth agape, Sweetie turned to look at Rarity.

“I did tell you that George was good for business,” Rarity said with a shrug. “Everypony is trying to break Rainbow Dash’s record.”





“I can’t believe I get my own room!” Scootaloo exclaimed as she zipped across the threshold into Rainbow Dash’s cloud house.

“I wasn’t going to stuff you in a closet or anything like that,” Rainbow said, following the filly at a more relaxed pace.

Scootaloo stopped her forward motion to flap over to the larger pony and grace her with another heartfelt hug. “Thank you.”

Rainbow returned the hug, draping the filly with her wings. “I should have done this sooner. A lot sooner.”

“I’m your daughter now,” Scootaloo whispered, burying her muzzle in blue chest hair. “I’m so happy.”

“Almost,” Rainbow said, running a hoof through Scootaloo’s mane. “With the boost given by the princess, the red tape is almost cut. All that's left is for us to show up for a check-up at the hospital, and then, the final signatures will be made. You’re mine now.”

“And you’re mine.”

Rainbow Dash reflected that even though being cool was great, being a mother was better.





“I can’t believe I get my own room.” Harry whispered, crossing the threshold into his new space as Bon Bon and Lyra stood behind him, grinning.

“You deserve it,” Bon Bon said as the young colt stared at the large bed, awe apparent on his features.

“Thank you,” Harry said, a single tear of joy escaping his left eye.

The grins on the mares’ faces died excruciating deaths. There was a moments uncomfortable silence before Bon Bon walked forward to nuzzle the foal. “Harry Potter,” she said delicately, “I am so sorry that you went through what you did, but I hope you realize that your aunt and her family didn’t treat you that way because they wanted to.”

Lyra came up to nuzzle Harry from the other side. “I know it's hard, but could you find it in your heart to forgive them?”

“Lyra,” Bon Bon hissed, “it’s too early to ask that of him.”

“No.” Harry shuffled his hooves uncomfortably. “I know, it’s just that. . .”

“We understand.” Bon Bon said. “You know in your head; it will just take some time for your heart to catch up.”

Harry said nothing but stiffly nodded his head.

“You don’t deserve any of this,” Lyra said. “And the next couple days are going to be hard on you.”

“Lyra!” Bon Bon hissed for the second time.

“No,” Lyra said clearly as she shook her own head, “he needs to know; otherwise he’ll think we're keeping things from him.”

“I need to know what?” Harry asked.

Bon Bon sighed. “Harry Potter, your aunt has invited us over for dinner tomorrow. She desperately wants. . . she desperately needs to apologize to you for her past actions.”

Harry stiffened where he stood. “I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Lyra said. “But I think it will be a healing experience for both you and them. Remember, both Bon Bon and myself will be there with you, and the Grangers have volunteered to come as well. Hermione will be there for you to lean on.”

Harry stood stock still. This perfect vacation had just developed a kink. Could there possibly be a worse homecoming?





The ambience of dignity once again suffused the manor after the momentary disruption that had marked the eldest daughter's return from Hogwarts for winter’s break. She had been welcomed home, with her mother displaying a touch more affection than was proper. Still, it occurred in the family home and could be overlooked. After all, it was the nature of women to be overtly emotional. So, some leeway was appropriate and easily tolerated. Ultimately, the heiress was once again under the roof and ready to receive critical education. With the pureblood faction decimated, it was essential that she play her future role flawlessly. This meant that she would have to learn things that normally only a legitimate male heir would be taught. The old ways had to be preserved, even as a bent neck had to be presented.

The lord of the manor sat in his study, a snifter of Napoleon cognac held loosely in one hand as he absently dipped the head of his rosado robusto cigar into the drink. He contemplated the unnatural course that he was forced to chart. Despite his love for his two daughters, his lack of a male heir gnawed at him like an ulcer. Now and again, he would vent his frustration when there was no one else to hear. While there was nothing he wouldn't do for his two darlings, a proper household required more masculinity. He was, therefore, in a foul mood when a girlish shriek reverberated through his domain. Feeling no sense of danger from the wards, the lord found his feet and made his way toward the source of the disturbance.

Soon, he and his wife found their way into their youngest’s room only to be accosted by a most unusual sight. Asteria sat in the middle of her demesne, aggressively petting a unicorn foal. Lord Greengrass had been under the impression that unicorn children were supposed to be pure gold in color, yet the one in his daughter’s arms was more of a pale yellow. A look of joy dominated Asteria’s face as the foal sat there with a look that was best described as ‘put upon’ as it rolled its eyes, though the animal made no effort to extricate itself from the grasp of the young girl. At once, he started calculating the political worth of having a daughter capable of attracting one of the revered beasts while his wife interrupted the proceedings.

“Asteria,” Lady Greengrass said, “what have you snuck into the house?”

“Mother?!” Asteria and the unicorn chorused, when they realized they had an audience. “Father?!”

The two parents blinked in surprise. “Daphne?” Lord Greengrass challenged.

“Yes father?” the unicorn coolly responded.

“You’re an animagus.” Lord Greengrass saw the value of his heiress catapult through the roof. “You are not yet twelve and you have already mastered transfiguration. When were you planning on informing me of your accomplishment?”

“I am not an animagus, father,” Daphne said. “I have a ring that lets me change.”

Disappointment overflowed and he forced himself to ask. “Where did you acquire such an artifact?”

“It was a gift from Lord Discord.”

Anger filled Lord Greengrass as the implications ran through his mind. A lord with whom he was not familiar had given his daughter what was obviously a betrothal present. Daphne was his heiress, and he couldn’t lose her to marriage where she was the inferior. She must be free to continue the Greengrass line. Astoria was not healthy enough to have the duty fall upon her. “What were the conditions of such a valuable gift?” he demanded crossly. “Lord Discord has already claimed the heirs of two prominent houses. It would seem he covets ours as well. You must return the item immediately along with a formal apology.”

“There was no onus implied, father,” Daphne replied evenly. “He was giving them out like candy.”

“Them?” Lady Greengrass skeptically drawled. “He gave out more than one? These rings are easily a promissory gift at the very least.”

“Primus Tiara says that he would consider them negligible at most. His power far outstrips that of the Dark Lord,” Daphne relayed, ears splayed back as her sister continued her assault.

“I find that claim most absurd,” Lord Greengrass sniffed dismissively. “Primus Tiara is obviously overestimating the strength of Lord Discord. Regardless, stand in front of me in your true form when you talk to me. I shall not demean myself by speaking to an animal.”

“Yes father.” Daphne crawled out of Astoria’s reluctantly-relented grasp and stood up as a human girl.

“Has the Lord offered you any other presents?” Lord Greengrass interrogated. “Has he introduced you to any suitors from Equestria?”

“No father,” Daphne said. “I have only met him once, and then briefly. He didn’t even acknowledge me then. He just provided the rings for everyone who didn’t have one before leaving with his women.”

“His women?”

“Yes.” Daphne’s voice and demeanor remained cool and impassive. “Miss Rutter and a pink haired woman named Miss Shy.”

“Miss Rutter? This is important intelligence.” Lord Greengrass rebuked, “You should have informed me of it earlier.”

“I am sorry father.”

“I see that we are going to have to review your time at Hogwarts. You clearly lack the wisdom to discern what findings you should be making me aware of.”

“I am sorry father.”

“Be in my study after supper,” the lord of the manor commanded before making his exit, leaving his wife to address the children.

“Your performance has disappointed your father,” Lady Greengrass said unnecessarily once he had left.

“Yes mother,” Daphne acknowledged without emotion.

“Give me the artifact,” Lady Greengrass said, holding out her hand.

Dispassionately, Daphne removed the ring and placed it in her mother’s hand. The woman rolled the object around, critically examining the nondescript copper band.

“I would have thought that you knew better than accepting a gift without a statement of no obligation.” Lady Greengrass sighed, handing the ring back.

“It was implied,” Daphne dissented. “There was no gravitas involved. One was given to each party goer.”

Lady Greengrass gave a sigh of relief. “It was a party gift? That is comforting to hear. And, it does speak well of the generosity of the lord. I suggest that is the first thing you tell your father later. It will go a long way towards reconciliation.”

“Yes, mother,” Daphne acknowledged.

“May I try it?” Astoria regarded the ring with undisguised desire.

Absently, Daphne handed the ring to her sister. “If it means you won’t maul me anymore.”

“Thank you Daph.” Astoria snagged the ring and popped it onto her finger.

Lady Greengrass smiled at her youngest. “I suppose having two unicorns in the manor is acceptable.”

Astoria beamed and shrank, a golden unicorn foal usurping her position. She stood stock still for several seconds before saying, “I feel funny.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Daphne said, smiling for the first time.

Astoria was quickly realizing that, perhaps, transfiguration magic was not the best thing for her.

It hurts,” Astoria said. “It really hurts.” She started shaking. Then she started screaming.

“Astoria!” both Daphne and her mother cried, reaching for the little unicorn.

“It hurts!” Astoria howled, blood flowing freely from her ears and eyes. “Make it stop! Please! Make it stop!”

Lady Greengrass snatched up her daughter, intent on apparating to St. Mungo's. Before she could act, there was a flash of light and a strange man was standing in the room with them. He took one look at the situation, inhaled a startled breath and snapped his fingers before he and Astoria disappeared in another flash of light.
> Chapter 65: Generation Blessed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was rather little to distinguish the house of the newest residents of Ponyville. It was neither the largest nor the smallest. It was neither the fanciest nor the plainest. It was simply home, and for Fenton, that was enough. It was more than his most desperate hope. It was more than his wildest dream. He, his wife, and their children had a place they could call their own, a place free from the specter of justice delayed. It was much more than he deserved. It had cost him his hands, but that price was gladly and gratefully paid in full.

He, however, was not completely free. He had been stripped of his wand, and his wife had been compelled to forfeit hers as well. While he no longer had access to the magic he knew, his wife had been blessed with a way to use what she had learned in their old world. The horn in the middle of her forehead had proven to be every bit as effective a focus as the bit of wood and core that she had discarded. With that substitute, she had leveraged a mundane spell into a service that promised to keep them reasonably well off. She had modified a combined shrink and featherweight spell so that it could be cancelled by uttering a nonsensical key sentence. The local farmers were quick to exploit that to ship their harvests far and wide at a fraction of the normal cost.

If he were honest with himself, he'd have to admit that his wife made more in that harvest season than the two of them had managed in their best year at their old jobs. It was more than he deserved. He could now reap the benefits of having a loving wife and loving her in return. He could now watch his children grow and prosper without worrying about the sword of justice. He could now lay to rest the ghosts of his past. If he were honest with himself, he deserved death. He deserved to suffer every bit as much pain as he had inflicted. If there were one thing he did not deserve, it was forgiveness.

He had received forgiveness.

No, that wasn’t entirely correct. All was not forgiven, much less forgotten. What he had received was leniency. Stepping one foot . . . one hoof out of line, would bring justice crashing down upon his head. Still, what he had lost could not compare to what he had taken from the blameless. One of his victims’ offspring had tempered justice with kindness. For that, he would always be in her debt.

He still remembered the agony, sitting in the custody of the aurors, waiting and wondering what would be his fate. He would have a trial, then, if he were lucky, Azkaban. If he weren’t, then the veil would be his only future. Self-loathing had been his only company. The longest wait of his lifetime ended when they had come. Madam Bones had led his three saviors into his cell, a grim scowl on all of their faces.

A woman had stepped forward. The hatred she felt was evident on her features and in every move she made. He had recognized her; she was Alice Rutter. It was her thirst for vengeance that had brought him to this sorry state. She was someone who had suffered as a result of his actions, someone that he had hurt so badly that no apology could ever suffice.

He said the words anyway; it was the least he could do. Those words could never return what she had lost. Those words could never convey the true extent of the regret he held for his conduct. Those words held no power to undo what had been done. Yet, most importantly, those words had not been empty.

Rutter had stood there, motionless as her emotions warred across her face. Then, she had struck him, using her entire body as a pivot. With her arm held stiffly she had connected with a resounding slap. The smaller woman had knocked him to the ground. It had taken several minutes for him to regain enough control to stand once again. The pain he had visited upon her far over stripped what she was capable of inflicting with just her hands. He said the words again and offered the other side of his face.

This time, Rutter pulled back her arm, clearly intent on delivering the mightiest punch she could muster. That was when the then-unknown woman with pink hair had stepped forward. She stared at Rutter with wide eyes -- unbelievable eyes -- eyes filled with infinite pain -- eyes filled with infinite understanding -- eyes filled with forgiveness.

He would later learn that it was kindness who had carried that day.

With tears freely falling, Rutter had turned to leave. Her only words had been that she would not allow him to turn her into the same kind of monster he was.

The trial never came. Instead, he was given a choice. He could risk the veil, or he could accept exile. He could take his family and leave everything behind. He could start a new life in a new world, but at the price of his humanity.

Fenton smiled down at his children playing, one now a unicorn, the other an earth pony like himself. They had been wrong about that last part. His humanity hadn’t been lost, only transformed into something different, yet so familiar.

Maybe, something better.





The large kitchen felt just a bit smaller with the hefty, roughhewn table extended with sawhorses and planks. Granny Smith had outdone herself while she was waiting impatiently for her kin to return from Canterlot, and the fruits of her labor had been neatly arrayed on the table. The venerable chef looked on at the gathering with love and pride as she watched family old and new enjoy the offerings she had prepared. The new faces were remarkably similar to the old, and even if it had not been official, she would have declared them members of the Apple family.

A pair of what could only be described as twin foals devoured an apple pie they were sharing; both had sticky filling smeared on their muzzles. The elder had initially mistaken them for identical twins until the colt realized that his brothers had put a matching pink bow in his mane. To the colt's side sat a red filly who would have left the local single mares wondering about Big Macintosh's conquests, and who the lucky unicorn mare might be.

On the other side of the table, her son’s second born sat, sandwiched between two colts. One, a cream-colored unicorn, was almost too old to be considered a colt, but he was also too young to be considered a stallion. The other could easily be mistaken for Applejack's younger brother, with identical coat and mane colors. His twin was not so identical, with mane and coat colors swapped.

The only biological twins at the table were staring down at their plates, with matching looks of constipation scrunched up on their muzzles.

“Would you two give it a rest and just eat your meal already?” Ginny, the red filly, huffed. “It took me, Sweetie, and Seamus weeks of being nagged by Hermione to be able to do it.” To emphasize her point, she levitated her next bite of food toward her mouth. “Sweetie’s still upset that Hermione managed to do it before she did.”

“Mmmm Hmm.” George, the orange-coated twin, nodded his head but did not stop staring at his food.

“Eavve em lone inny,” the colt helping Apple Bloom inhale a pie said, not even lifting his head.

Motivated by years of raising generations of youngsters, Granny Smith said, “'Ere now, Ronald Weasley, tain’t polite to go talking with yer mouth full of pie.”

Lifting his head and swallowing, the little yellow colt grimaced. “Sorry, Granny Smith,” he said dutifully.

Nodding her head in approval, Granny Smith said, “See there, Apple Bloom; he can be taught. You jus’ need to work on him with his table manners is all.”

“Ah’ll work on it,” Apple Bloom said, not raising her own head from the mostly empty pie tin.

“Hey! Save some for me!” Ronald declared, returning to attack the remaining food.

“Even those two are going to be stuffed after this meal.” Percy, the creamy unicorn said diplomatically, “Thank you for the wonderful feast, Granny Smith.”

“Yer welcome.” Granny smiled happily. “It does this old heart good to see a meal properly enjoyed.”

“Speaking of stuffed,” Applejack said, “are you sure that you an’ yer brothers will be comfortable in the guest room? Three o’ you in that bed will be getting mighty cramped an’ we kin easily break out the folding cots.

“Not a problem,” Fred said, still attempting to will his supper into his mouth.

“We brought our trunks. They each have their own bed included,” George finished.

“They ain’t pony-eating chests by any chance?” Applejack asked cautiously as Big Mac shuddered slightly.

“Nah,” Apple Bloom said, removing her muzzle from the now-empty tin and licking her muzzle. “They don’t allow trunks with that ability in the school. Sweetie jus’ got all the bells an’ whistles when she ordered Rarity’s. It’s our saddlebags that you need to watch out fer.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she added hopefully, “We got 'nother pie?”





Minerva winced and quashed the wish that Albus had been in his office to receive this floo call. In her office fireplace, the head of House Greengrass continued to make demands as worry over his younger daughter clearly drove him on.

“I am sorry,” Minerva apologized again. “I’ve sent an owl to Mr. Discord, and I’m afraid the patronus charm doesn’t seem to know how to reach him. You can rest assured that wherever he took your daughter, she is being properly cared for.”

“He bypassed all my wards, apparated into my home, and snatched my daughter right out of my wife’s arms!” Lord Greengrass bellowed, unconvinced.

Minerva took a deep, calming breath and prepared her response. “I hate to interrupt,” Mr. Discord said, appearing in a flash of light, dressed in a natty brown business suit, “but I am in need of your immediate assistance.”

“Mr. Discord?” Minerva said. “Just the person we were discussing. I assume you managed to get Astoria the help she needed?” There was more than a little hope in her voice over the last part.

“She is safe and is being cared for,” Discord said. “However, I popped in and out so quickly that I failed to get my bearings. I have no clue where I got her from.”

“Where is my daughter!” Lord Greengrass demanded, getting his own bearings after the unannounced arrival.

“Oh?” Discord glanced at the head floating in green flames. “You are her father? Good, just the person I was looking for.” He snapped his fingers. Then, in a flash of light, Lord Greengrass was standing next to Minerva. “You will have to come with me. Dear Celestia has some questions for you.”

“Me too!” Minerva blurted before Discord could snap his fingers again.

“As you wish,” Discord said and snapped his fingers. In a flash, they were standing in front of what appeared to be an incensed white alicorn. Minerva’s first thought was that it was a few degrees warmer than it had any right to be that time of year. After noting that they were in the gardens and the foot-deep blanket of snow stopped abruptly in a circle extending three meters from where the princess stood, she amended her thought to it was a lot warmer than it had any right to be, ever.

The two humans froze where they stood as Discord drifted away in his natural form. He did so apparently lackadaisically, yet at the same time wasted no time in being somewhere else.

“Professor Minerva McGonagall,” Celestia greeted curtly before fixing her eyes on the other human. “And you are the filly’s father?”

“Yes, Miss Celestia.” Lord Greengrass gulped. He was proud. He was arrogant. He was overconfident. But, Lord Greengrass wasn’t stupid; he could sense the power radiating from the winged unicorn before him.

“That is Princess Celestia," said a smaller brown wingless unicorn who had been overlooked in light of the angry white sovereign.

“Yes, your highness,” Lord Greengrass hastily corrected. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Dr. Leg Splint here informs me that he has admitted a young filly with disturbing magics entwined in her own, magics that should have been long ago removed.” For someone radiating such heat, she had no business sounding so frosty.

Minerva had to give Lord Greengrass credit; he didn’t appear to cow at the accusation. “Do you think I haven’t tried?” he said, drawing himself to his full height. “Astoria was born with a blood curse. We have been trying for generations to dispel it.”

“Don’t lie!” the brown unicorn snapped accusingly. “An intern in her first year could have removed that ‘curse’. Did you not think to take her to see a doctor?”

Lord Greengrass turned toward Dr. Leg Splint. “Are you telling me that you cured my daughter?”

“Of course, I cured her.” The doctor snorted. “Do I look incompetent to you?”

Lord Greengrass stared at the doctor for several seconds, emotion cracking his frozen mask. In contrast, the surrounding atmosphere started to cool as winter reclaimed the area. “If that is true, then you have my eternal thanks.”

“What do you mean ‘if it is true’?” The doctor gritted his teeth. “I am insulted that you would think I would lie about the wellbeing of a foal.”

“We have brought in healers from all over the world at the slightest chance that Astoria might be cured.” Lord Greengrass recovered his haughtiness. “Forgive me if I am skeptical of claims from a small brown unicorn. Regardless, even if you made an attempt that failed, I thank you for your efforts.”

The stubby mane on the back of Doctor Splint’s neck stood up, and he snarled, “Now see here, you large two legged . . .”

“Doctor,” Celestia interrupted, “we get nowhere when insults fly.”

The doctor balked and promptly bit his tongue.

“Why did you stop them?” Discord pouted. “Things were just getting interesting.”

“Discord, please,” Celestia said. “I need to get to the bottom of this. I need to assess whether or not this human is a danger to his own daughter.”

“My name is Lord Greengrass, and I resent the implications, princess or not.” This was said coldly enough to freeze lava.

“My apologies,” Celestia acknowledged. “However, I will not see a foal mistreated no matter the standing of the individual doing so. You appear properly distressed, yet there are still implications that I resent. When a trusted medical advisor tells me that the situation should have been easily rectified and the child was made to suffer unnecessarily, well, I cannot and will not ignore the situation.”

Lord Greengrass measured his next words. “I understand. Know that questioning my resolve to provide the best care possible to my daughter is a grave insult. I was not lax in procuring whatever medical assistance was available nor would I have hesitated to take the burden upon myself to spare my daughter.”

“So you say,” Doctor Splint replied, his voice measured as well. “I would very much like to have a conversation with these hacks you call medical professionals.”

“Oh.” Discord suddenly materialized. “That is a good idea.” He snapped his claws.





Milo Yates, as befitting a healer, kept several standard potions in his office. These could treat any of the routine maladies. Though he rarely partook himself, it was not unthinkable that he would be placing an empty vial that had contained a mild calming draught in his pocket.

“Let’s try that again,” he said to his audience. “How may I help you?”

“Mr. Yates, was that potion really necessary?” Professor McGonagall pursed her lips disapprovingly.

“It’s been a long day,” Milo said. “And I suspect it’s about to get longer.”

The large unicorn with wings said. “We are sorry to bother you. However, we have some urgent questions regarding one of your patients. Lord Greengrass’ daughter to be exact.”

“More specifically,” the small brown unicorn interjected, “we demand to know why the child has not been properly treated prior to today.”

“Properly treated?” Milo asked. “We have done everything possible to cure Astoria. Are you telling me that you have removed her curse?”

“Everything possible?” The reproach was evident in the brown unicorn’s voice. “What in the name of Discord are your medical schools teaching?” The unicorn turned to the man in the natty brown suit and hastily added, "No offense."

In an amused tone, the man replied, "None taken."

The smaller unicorn continued, "Our first-year interns demonstrate the treatment as part of their qualification exam."

Milo stared at the volatile equine before saying, “Follow me.” He then stood from behind his desk and made his way toward his office door where he stopped as a thought hit him. “On second thought, you may be a little too large to go about roaming the halls, let alone fit through the doorway,” he said to the large, winged unicorn.

She gave him a warm smile and said. “That will not be a problem.” Then her horn lit up. Where she had stood was now a large, Shakespearean beauty with a flowing ethereal hair, and where the brown unicorn had stood was the spitting image of Othello.

Milo studied their new forms and said, “While an improvement, you are now going to draw attention for an entirely different reason.”

“Oh?” the woman asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Please, allow me, Princess Celestia.” Professor McGonagall picked a blank scroll off the desk and started transfiguring it into a dress worthy of Queen Elizabeth.

“Thank you, Professor Minerva McGonagall,” Princess Celestia said.

“Just a moment,” Lord Greengrass interjected. “I believe that I would like to be taken to see my daughter now. You have heard enough to conclude that I have not been negligent.”

“That would appear to be the case,” Princess Celestia acknowledged. “You have my apologies for the earlier accusations. I hope we can put them behind us.”

“Your highness,” Lord Greengrass said, “I only wish to see to the welfare of my daughter. Since that was your intention as well, apologies shall not be necessary.”

“Well said, Lord Greengrass.” Princess Celestia smiled as she examined her new golden dress. “Still, allow me to make amends by extending an invitation to you and your family. From what the good doctor tells me, young Astoria shall be unconscious for several days, and I am sure you’d like to stay close to the hospital until such time as she awakes. You shall have a suite at the palace made available to you.”

“You are most generous,” Lord Greengrass said. “I will gladly accept.”

“Discord,” Princess Celestia said. “Would you mind taking Lord Greengrass along with his family to the palace and inform Raven that they are to have the Pearl Suite?”

“What do I look like? A chauffeur?” asked Discord. There was a flash, and his natty brown suit was replaced by a smart black outfit complete with matching gloves and glossy cap. A domino mask completed the ensemble.

“That looks good on you.” Princess Celestia commented. “However, I would like to forgo stuffing Lord Greengrass into an owl's pouch at this time; so, I’d appreciate you taking care of the matter.”

“I suppose I could be bothered,” Discord sighed. Turning to a mildly befuddled Greengrass, he said, "Yes, I know kung fu." He snapped his fingers, disappearing in a flash with Lord Greengrass.

“Now,” Princess Celestia addressed Milo, “shall we continue?”

“Yes, your highness.” Milo opened his office door.





Raven was floating a ledger before her as she strolled casually down the palace hallway. Only her hard-earned past experience prevented her from spooking when a flash of light signaled the arrival of the all too familiar pest. Nevertheless, her look of utter surprise matched that of the three humans who had appeared with him.

“Ah, Raven,” Discord said upon seeing the dazed unicorn.

Turning toward the male voice, Lady Greengrass saw Discord in his natural form and let out a long shrill shriek, drawing the attention of all in the hallway. After a few seconds, her husband placed a calming hand on her shoulder and her scream trailed off.

“Are you done?” Discord asked, removing the corks from his ears. “Or did you want to try for C-sharp?”

Lady Greengrass stared at him and dumbly nodded her head.

“As I was saying.” Discord turned back to Raven. “Sunbutt wants you to put them up in the smooth spherical calcite rooms. Now, if you will excuse me, I am missing out on what may prove to be serious entertainment.” He snapped his claws and disappeared in a flash of light.

The humans and the unicorn turned to stare at each other. “Smooth spherical calcite rooms?” Raven ventured after a few seconds.

“The phrase Princess Celestia used was ‘the Pearl Suite’.” Lord Greengrass removed his hand from his wife’s shoulder after seeing that she had regained her composure.

“Ah.” Raven shuffled her hooves. “That makes more sense.”

A few more seconds of awkward silence followed before Lady Greengrass asked, “Does he do that often?”

“Yes.” Raven laid her ears back on her skull with a sigh.

“My condolences.”

“I’m just happy he didn’t turn the floor into peanut butter this time,” Raven shared.

Another pause. “Do you know what happened to my daughter?” Lady Greengrass challenged.

“Would she happened to be the little gold filly taken to Canterlot General earlier?”

“Yes,” Lady Greengrass replied, keeping her voice steady as hope filled her eyes, “that’s she.”

“I understand that she is out of danger and is resting comfortably,” Raven informed the distressed mother.

“Take me to her,” Lady Greengrass demanded.

Raven said. “I’ll have a guard escort you after I show you to your rooms.”

“I would prefer to go straight to the hospital,” Lady Greengrass countered.

Raven motioned to one of the guards who had come to investigate the screaming. “Take these humans to the hospital, maintain close escort, and return them to the palace when they are ready.”

The guard saluted sharply in acknowledgement.

After watching the guard lead the humans away, Raven continued to study the ledger, altering her course slightly to visit the kitchens. She suddenly had a craving for peanut butter and celery.





Jessamine lay in bed, propped up by several pillows. She didn’t even have the energy to read a book; no longer could she enjoy her favorite pastime. She sat there and waited to die. For as long as she could remember, there had always been the specter of imminent death hanging over her head. Even as a little girl she had always held firm in the knowledge that each day could be her last. Sooner or later, the curse would win. It was just a matter of time, and she could feel the final grains draining from the hourglass.

Oh, she had made peace with her inevitable fate. She had decided to never marry, never have children. Leaving behind a grieving husband would have been cruel. Passing down her suffering to another generation would have been unthinkable. She could not stop the curse; so long as her family line continued, it would find its way back, claiming victim after victim. Her sacrifice, however, might spare a generation or two the heartbreak. Still, another daughter of the house would inevitably be born with the wasting malady. Her entire life would be nothing but a steady loss of vitality that would claim her life as well. Jessamine pitied the yet to be conceived child.

Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do. All she had left in her was to silently lay still and wait to die.

The door to her room opened, and she used some of her remaining strength to turn her head to see who it was. A small smile crept over her lips when she saw Healer Yates lead a small procession into her room, one of whom was her old transfiguration professor. It was nice to think the teacher had come to see her off.

“Miss Gray,” Healer Yates said. “I have brought someone to have a look at you. He has made progress on a similar case.”

Another smile was Jessamine’s only reply as a frowning, short, dark man came to stand over her. He stood there for a few seconds, just looking at her, not taking out his wand to do a scan. Then he crossed his eyes as if trying to look at his own forehead.

Sighing, he said. “Princess, if you would be so kind? I will need my horn to do a proper diagnostic.”

A statuesque woman with a flowing rainbow for hair nodded her head, and the man’s form glowed before shrinking into a small brown unicorn, of all things. Jessamine gave a weak smile; unicorns were supposed to have healing magic. The brown glow surrounding his horn was soothing, at the very least.

“Well, Dr. Splint?” the woman with the rainbow hair asked.

“The spell is bound to her much more thoroughly than in the filly's case, but it is still well within my abilities,” the unicorn said, placing the tip of his horn against Jessamine’s forehead.

For the first time in a very long time, Jessamine felt hope.

“Got it,” the little unicorn declared, drawing his horn away from Jessamine’s head. There was a sucking sensation as a black cloud followed, connecting her head to the animal’s horn. “This is a nasty one.”

The unicorn moved backwards, obviously straining to take each step.

“Do you need any help?” Healer Yates asked in a dispassionate voice.

“No magic!” the unicorn snapped as the smoke pulled him back toward Jessamine. “However, if you would grab on and help pull, I would be grateful.”

Without another word, the healer wrapped his arms around the small horse and lent his full strength to the effort. It was slow work, but eventually the last of the smoke popped free of Jessamine’s head, and immediately, she could breathe easier.

“Don’t touch it!” the unicorn snapped. “I just removed it from the patient; I don’t want to have to take it out of you as well.”

Healer Yates took a step back. “What are we to do with it?”

“Do you still have that vial from earlier?” the unicorn asked and Healer Yates took an empty vial from his pocket.

“Perfect,” the unicorn declared as the vial glowed brown and the cork leapt out of the glass container. In short order, the smoke was stuffed into the vial and the cork was replaced. “That wasn’t so hard was it?” The unicorn fixed Healer Yates with an accusatory glare.

Healer Yates had his wand out, and was scanning Jessamine. “I’m going to have to have you teach me what you just did,” he said, his voice still emotionless.

“As I said, a first-year intern could have done that,” the unicorn said with a sneer. “And you call yourself a healer?”

“Doctor,” the rainbow-haired woman gently chided, “a little decorum, please. I happen to know that a human healer has healed a young pegasus of her inability to fly. It is obvious that they just have a different skill set that is no less potent.”

“Really?” the doctor unicorn said skeptically as Jessamine sat up fully. “How would you fix a pegasus whose fragile broken wing bones have knitted irregularly, preventing flight?” he asked, looking at Healer Yates.

“That was not the case for the pegasus I am aware of,” the rainbow haired woman replied.

Healer Yates shrugged and said, “Regardless, that’s an easy fix. Just vanish the bones then regrow them.”

“You can do that?” Dr. Splint asked, surprised.

“Yes.” Healer Yates smirked. "Even a first-year intern could do it."
> Chapter 66: Supply and Demand
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Regardless of the plane of existence, mornings on a farm start early. While fields and orchards sleep through the winter, cows still expect to be milked before sunrise, and eggs still need to be collected before they are broken or soiled. Other chores could wait for later in the day, but they still had to be completed in order to maintain the farm.

On a typical day, one would expect to see a red stallion and an orange mare fighting their never-ending battle against entropy. This day was far from normal. The familiar pair was nowhere to be seen. Instead, six youngsters of varying ages had taken up the cause, now that they were on break from school. Unlike typical ponies, they could bring more to bear on the work than mere numbers. They could change form to access dexterity that only a highly-trained unicorn could be expected to manage. They could call on their magic to impose their wills on the world around them. They could finish in a couple hours what would take the stallion and the mare the entire day, even if the children did frighten the hogs so thoroughly that the swine refused to leave their barn. On this day, with the work finished early, there was plenty of time to play.

The three youngest had plenty of energy to burn, despite putting in a morning's worth of farm labor. They took turns bucking a large, colorful ball as far down a fallow field as they could manage. They didn't worry about retrieving their toy; their large, three-headed canine companion was more than happy to fetch.

“Ah was skeptical at firs’,” Applejack said as she oversaw them bonding. “But Fluffy has turned out to be a welcome addition to the family, leastwise after Twilight made him a collar to stop all of the earthquaking he was doing.”

“Earthquaking?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah, his magic was causing the ground to shake whenever he got excited an' ran about. Twilight learned us on a few l'il known facts about three-headed dogs, like how they need to eat less than Winona. We’re using most of the kibble that Apple Bloom sent as hog feed.”

“Have you been teaching him to help the roundup an' such?” Apple Bloom asked, thinking of Winona.

“The cows have threatened to go on strike if Ah try that again,” Applejack admitted. “He does have other uses though.”

“Such as?” Ron asked.

Suddenly, Fluffy lifted all of his heads and swiveled his ears to listen to a bell tolling in the distance. Then, he raced over and scooped up a foal in each mouth before running in the direction the sound had originated.

“Fluffy! Bad dog!”

“Put me down!”

“I’m not a ball!”

Applejack shook her head before turning to the farmhouse. “Ah have to admit, that thar was some good timing.”





In the quiet suburban kitchen, Dean Thomas looked up from his plate of pancakes and fixed his mother with a plaintive gaze. “Do I really have to watch Rosie and Eva?”

“Yes,” his mother returned sternly. “You’re old enough now. There is no reason we need to spend money on a babysitter when you are capable of looking after your own sisters. It’s all part of growing up and taking on responsibilities.”

“But I was going to go find the guys,” Dean whined. “I haven’t seen them in three months.”

“You don’t always get what you want. We need you to watch the girls. The groceries you brought are a welcome windfall, but we still need to conserve funds if you don't want to choose between eating and staying warm,” his father informed Dean. “That means you have to start helping out around the house.”

“Okay.” Dean wilted and returned to his breakfast.





The screaming had stopped by the time the familiar structure came into view. The three foals hanging in the mouths of Apple Bloom’s dog shared worried glances when Fluffy stopped at the front door and scratched at it. A short time later, it opened, and a smiling face peered up in greeting.

“Apple Bloom,” Miss Cheerilee said to the foal closest to her. “I see you’ve decided to join us on our last day of classes before break. And you brought friends.”

The foal in the center groaned. "I'm Ron."

Cheerilee did a quick double-take. Turning to the foal to her left, Cheerilee said, "There you are, Apple Bloom. Did you want to take the old Crusaders' desks?"

“We weren’t exactly planning on it,” Apple Bloom admitted.

Miss Cheerilee chuckled as the three were deposited on the ground in front of her. “Fluffy has been very helpful in making sure that all of the foals in town make it to school on time.”

“Traitor,” Apple Bloom directed at Fluffy, who wagged his tail at her in return.

Cheerilee said, "You really must share your story with the class. Everything at your new school must be so different."





Surrounded by the kaleidoscope of small sounds and motions that lent atmosphere to his office, Dumbledore sat behind his desk going over paperwork. With all of the wizarding government on holiday, he finally had time to address the less critical duties of the headmaster. It was now time to reconcile all of the unanticipated expenses, and he was sure that with all of the parents' protests about how their little angels couldn't possibly be responsible for the disasters, he would need every last drop of the raw firewhisky in the gallon jug on his desk.

He made the mistake of bringing the jug to his lips as he read the first letter. The resulting spit take scorched a healthy spot on the opposite wall. He had been absolutely certain that the school would take a loss on this matter. He was sure that he would have to negotiate with each family involved in turn, wringing only a few galleons from each. Five barrels of jellyfish tree sap was worth more than its weight in gold, but the first family on the list had returned the invoice almost immediately, authorized to be paid immediately.

He had painstakingly documented each time the first-year Gryffindors had managed to drench themselves in the sticky liquid. He still could not understand how they could have accidentally done it on no fewer than five separate occasions. He had expected all of their parents to argue that such accidents were a normal part of schooling. He could not understand the missive he now held in front of himself. It was authorization for payment of not five, but ten barrels of the sap. Someone named Macintosh Apple had included a short note stating that he was simply preparing for the inevitable.

How very curious.





The two newest residents sat with their family and enjoyed an unusual breakfast. It was deep-fried hay pellets on a bed of sautéed tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions. The dish was drizzled with a savory cider reduction seasoned with sage, thyme, and rosemary and brightened with bits of parsley. Even Celestia's personal chef would have been impressed.

Well, one of the newest residents enjoyed the new culinary experience; the other contented herself with owl treats.

“I hope you’re not disappointed that there is no meat for breakfast.” Bon Bon directed a worried look at the colt devouring the plate of food before him. “Lyra tells me that every meal she’s had on your world has had at least a little. I’ll get some chitterlings and salt cod for later.”

Harry swallowed his latest mouthful. “Um, you don’t have to do that. Professor McGonagall says that I can live on whatever ponies eat as long as I take my meals in pony form. She warned us not to expect any meat during the break, and this is really good.”

“Still, I don’t want to deprive you of a proper diet.” Bon Bon’s voice held a hint of concern.

“Don’t worry Bonnie,” Lyra said, digging into her own meal. “Humans have nutrition down to a science. They know exactly what parts of each food does what for the body. In fact, when you go to one of their stores, their food has writing on it that tells you the amount of each substance is present in every item you purchase. They even sell pills that help supplement anything you might be low on and I have a bottle of full-spectrum supplement in my office. He’ll be fine.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.” Bon Bon looked at her own plate as Harry went back to attacking his meal. “I mean, I know that certain beings need to have certain things in their diet to be healthy, but how can a pill help that?”

“We were just not seeing the trees for the forest. We've been looking at the sum of the parts while they've been looking at the parts of the sum,” Lyra explained. “The pills have the same things that are in our food, but concentrated. It's amazing the things they've done because they don't have magic; things we had to figure out with trial and error they have worked out with math. Our eggheads are having fits over atomic theory and what that means for us. I mean, in Harry Potter's world, they even figured out a way to make aluminum so it's even cheaper than wood."

“Aluminum is worth a lot of money?” Harry asked, raising his head.

“Yes, several ponies have based their fortunes on it,” Bon Bon replied.

“Oh,” Harry said and went back to his breakfast.

A knock from the front door interrupted further conversation as Bon Bon left the table to answer it.

“Hello, foals,” she said upon seeing who it was. “That’s not tree sap you’re covered in is it?”

“Nah, it’s Fluffy slobber,” Ron answered.

“Oh, thought you were skipping class, did he? Now you know why truancy has dropped to zero around here.”

“Yup,” Apple Bloom said, disgruntled. “We thought we’d pick up Harry on the way back to the farm. We got a full day of crusading ahead of us fer the first time in a while.”

“I’ll be ready to go after I finish the dishes,” Harry called out after licking his plate clean. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Why would you think you had to do dishes first,” Lyra asked.

“Um . . .” Harry said, baffled.

“Go play with your friends,” Bon Bon said, trotting back up to the table. “I’ll do the dishes this time.”

Harry stared in shock at the two older ponies for a few seconds. “You’re not going to make me do chores?”

“Don’t think you’re going to get out of chores entirely,” Lyra said. “Cleaning your own room is your responsibility, but you won’t be doing nearly as many as you did before. Now, go play.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked warily.

“Go play,” Bon Bon repeated. “Just remember to be back in time for supper.” Harry winced at the reminder before making his way out the front door.

“Now we just need to stop and get Sweetie an’ her broom,” Apple Bloom said. “Then we can get ours before heading over fer Scootaloo.”





There are a lot of things Rainbow Dash could be called. Fast would probably be one of the first things to come to mind. Braggart would most likely be a close second. And one could not forget loyal; she was definitely that as well. However, one thing a pony could not claim was that she was a morning pony. Well, technically, anypony could in fact claim that, but they would then be immediately called out by Applejack.

It was, therefore, a bleary-eyed blue pegasus who opened her front door in response to the annoying doorbell. “Hey, girls. Good morning.” Rainbow Dash yawned at her visitors.

“Good morning, Rainbow Dash,” the foals chorused back. Then, one of the yellow ones continued with, “I’m a boy.”

“Hard to tell with that bow in your hair,” the blue pegasus colt teased.

“What?! How’d that . . . I’m going to strangle Fred and George!”

“I think it looks cute,” the mini Big Mac commented.

Rainbow chuckled at their antics. “Come on in. I’ll go let Scootaloo know you’re here.” With those words, she turned around and started walking toward the room occupied by the filly in question. She got four steps before stopping mid-stride. To confirm a theory, she bounced her right forehoof up and down and was rewarded with the familiar feeling of fluffiness. Not quite convinced, she looked down and certified that she was, indeed, standing on a cloud. She hadn’t fallen asleep at Twilight’s or Fluttershy’s. Confused, she looked back over her shoulder at the foals. Sweetie Belle waved back with a huge grin.

Rainbow Dash looked forward again and mulled the situation over in her sleep-addled mind. Something wasn’t adding up. She checked over her shoulder a second time. It was Apple Bloom’s turn to wave a hoof, an odd sight, with her sitting on a broom and all. Yup, something wasn’t right; "earth" was in the name "earth pony" after all. Rainbow Dash looked forward again and did some calculations. After adding two plus two and getting Thursday, she lifted her left foreleg to her mouth and gave it a quick nip. That had hurt; she was awake, after all.

Taking a deep breath, she let out a shout. “Scootaloo! Did you spike the apple juice with a weird potion or maybe some firewhisky?! If so, ya got me. Ha ha, now make it stop!”

Clearly, Rainbow Dash was not a morning pony.





What had been her sanctuary was now her punishment. It was almost unbearable. Her parents had gone off to work, leaving her alone in the house. There was a time when this would have been paradise for her. Her parents knew she was responsible enough to be left unsupervised, and she had always reinforced their trust. This was the first time she had been truly alone in months. It wasn’t a quick hop from the library to the common room, where she could find all kinds of attention. For once, being alone with her books did not appeal to her, not that she didn’t still love reading. She wished there were someone close to fill the hole in her heart that she hadn't noticed until now. She needed companionship. Perhaps she should get a cat? Was she becoming a crazy cat lady already?

Sitting in a chair next to the new floo connection, Hermione debated on whether or not it was too early to try calling her friends. After sleeping by herself, she was starving for some physical contact, and she was too old to ask her parents. The analytical portion of her mind was marveling at how quickly she had become accustomed to having others around all the time. She almost couldn’t believe how much she craved their company after just one day away from them.

It was, therefore, a sigh of relief instead of a gasp of surprise that crossed her lips when a ball of flames blossomed in the middle of the family room.

“Hey Hermione!” Scootaloo hailed. “We’re going to try for our finedancer cutie marks today.”

“Financer,” Sweetie Belle corrected.

“Whatever.”

“Actually,” Hermione mused, “Scoot’s word is probably more accurate.”





Regardless of the plane of existence, money talks, although it only seems to say, "Goodbye." More importantly, money is the key to possibilities. For example, in Canterlot, bits can be used to rent rooms in lavish hotels to conduct business. Bits can be used to retain members of the royal guard to stand watch while you conduct said business. What’s more, bits can be used to have the hotel cater to ponies waiting in a rented room for their turn to conduct said business. Truly, it takes a little time for even the most naïve to learn the real benefits of having money. That time is compressed when one’s herd contains a member who likes to read all kinds of books.

It really was amazing how much they had accomplished that day, and it was only a couple hours after lunch.

“So, we have a deal?” Luna Lovegood asked of the snooty looking unicorn who sat across the desk from her.

“Yes,” The white unicorn mare said, sleaze practically dripping from her voice as she considered the small thestral who looked back at her through welder's glasses. “The bits, my property on Main Street, and a shipment of iron ore for two hoof lengths of aluminum bar. I consider that fair."

“I’m not sure what we’re going to do with a shipment of iron ore,” Luna confessed, “but we don’t want to force you to liquidate any of your holdings.”

“I’d be willing to offer much more for another hoof length or two,” the unicorn said hopefully.

“I’m sorry; we’re limiting each customer to two hoof lengths,” Luna said demurely. “We have a limited supply, after all.”

“I understand Lord Grubby Hooves got much more than two hoof lengths,” the unicorn wheedled.

“He was one of the first deals of the day,” Luna replied. “We didn’t foresee the interest we’d generate.”

“Yeah,” Sweetie Belle said from the next desk over. “This is better than any lemonade stand we’ve ever run.”

“What’s a lemonade stand?” Seamus asked from his own desk.

“We’ll show yah sometime.” Apple Bloom answered.

“I don’t know,” Scootaloo groused. “We didn’t get our cutie marks for it.”

“I’m not complaining,” Dean said. “I got that guard to take Rosie and Eva to the park for me. This is much more fun than sitting at home watching them.”

“I’m not sure that’s the proper use for a guard,” Parvati complained. “I still can’t believe they were willing to let us have a squad for the day.”

“With as much wealth as you are flaunting, it’s in their best interest to have members on hoof in case of trouble,” a blue stallion standing across from Abagail said.

“Trouble?” Apple Bloom scoffed. “Ah’d say we managed to stay out of trouble fer today.”





Diamond Tiara opened the lid of her trunk and called down the stairs. “School’s out for the day. Now’s our chance to catch her.”

“Yes, Primus,” Barnaby called, standing from the couch he had been sitting on. He was dreading what was to come.

“You’ll just have to use my ring to change.” Diamond continued, “Silver Spoon. you got the bows ready?”

“Have you decided what colors you want?” Silver Spoon asked.

“We’ll just have to wait and see what color he is first.”





Twilight strolled down a street in Ponyville with a love-besotted Spike sitting on her back. With her were Applejack and Rarity; one could practically see the hearts floating over from the baby dragon to the white unicorn.

“Thanks fer helping me look,” Applejack said. “There ain’t no telling what those three will get up to now that they gone an’ drug Percy Weasley off to who knows where.”

“I think you might be acting a little bit overprotective,” Rarity said. “Remember, you were young once.”

“Ah remember,” Applejack said. “That’s why Ah’m worried.”

“Rarity!” Lyra called out, trotting up to the trio. “Twilight, Applejack. Have any of you seen the foals lately? We have a dinner date tonight, and I can’t find Harry Potter anywhere.”

“Ah haven’t seen them since this morning,” Applejack said. “They said something about catching up on their crusading; have you tried checking the clubhouse?”

“Tried there already,” Lyra said. “And there has been a disturbing lack of commotion, considering that they are crusading.”

“If you find them, please send Sweetie home. Magah keeps circling the shop trying to find her. At last count, seven stallions have tried hitting on her; it’s starting to lose its entertainment value,” Rarity interjected.

“Buuuuuurp!” Spike added his input to the conversation. “Letter from the Princess, Twilight.”

“Thank you, Spike,” Twilight said. “Would you mind reading it out loud?”

“Sure thing,” Spike said, unrolling the scroll. “Dear Twilight, please come to Canterlot and collect the Crusaders. They are attempting to crash the economy. Yours truly, Princess Celestia.”

Spike’s reading was met with silence and many eyes opening as wide as they would go.

“I can honestly say I didn’t see that coming,” Spike commented as he rerolled the scroll. “At least now we know where they are, and Lyra may have spoken too soon about the lack of commotion.”

“Crash the economy?” Rarity whispered, questioningly.

“How did they get to Canterlot?” Twilight grasped at the first thread she didn’t understand. “Foals can’t ride the train without adult permission.”

“Ah didn’t think Celestia was the type to go around funning ponies like that,” Applejack said. “There ain’t no way foals could collapse the economy. Not even the Crusaders.”

“Yeah,” Lyra started slowly. “they’ve only been back one day and there is no way they could collapse the . . . Oh!” she concluded with her eyes going wider and her lips forming a perfect O.

“Lyra darling,” Rarity said, “I, for one, find the way you chose to finish that sentence more than a little disconcerting.”





Cheerilee strolled down the street with Carrot Top and Berry Punch, glad that it had been an early day for school.

“So, we just ask them for more firewhisky?” Berry mused as she walked. “We can get a collection going to pay for it.”

“It might be a wise idea to hold the party in the gem cave,” Carrot Top suggested. “Less flammable objects there.”

“Or you can just forego trying to get anymore firewhisky,” Cheerilee retorted. “There were ponies who didn’t recover for a whole week after the last batch.”

“Nah.” Carrot shook her head. “You missed out, being at school and all. Trust me, when I say you want to try firewhisky. It’s worth the pain.”

“We just need to find the Crusaders and ask them to order some more,” Berry said.

“Miss Cheerilee!” the voice of a young filly called out, halting the conversation.

Turning as one, the three mares watched Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon approach leading a sullen looking grey unicorn stallion with a dull orange mane. Color had been added to his features in the form of multiple small bows tied in his mane and tail, finishing with a large pink one that was a mockery of the one Apple Bloom always wore.

“Girls.” Cheerilee smiled down at her former students. “It’s good to see you. We miss having you in class.”

“Hello, Miss Cheerilee,” Diamond Tiara said excitedly. “I hate to give presents and run, but Daddy just told me that we are going to Canterlot on the next train to shop and spend the night. I have to hurry.”

“Forget presents,” Carrot Top said, devouring the young stallion's chiseled figure with her eyes. “Why don’t you introduce us to your friend, instead?”

“He’s for Miss Cheerilee,” Silver Spoon stated.

“What?” Cheerilee asked in alarm, fixing her eyes on the healthy stallion.

“Remember how jealous you were when I had a marriage contract and you didn’t?” Diamond said. “Well I’m giving you this stallion as a present.”

Silver Spoon prodded Diamond Tiara in the side with a hoof.

Diamond sighed, looked at Silver Spoon then back up at Cheerilee. “Miss Cheerilee,” she said with sullen formality, “on behalf of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, I present you with your own marriage contract and stallion. Barnaby Lee now belongs to you.”

“What?!” Cheerilee tried again.

“Well, got to go! Daddy’s waiting,” Diamond yelled, galloping toward the train station.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Silver Spoon called out, chasing after her friend.

After watching the fillies run away, the three mares turned their attention back on the virile young stallion.

“Hello,” Barnaby said with as much dignity as he could muster.

“Hello,” The mares echoed back.

A few seconds passed before Berry said, “The bows are cute.”

“I could pass on them,” Carrot Top opined.

“I’m supposed to let Miss Cheerilee unwrap me,” Barnaby said.

“Mmmmmmm,” Carrot Top purred as she licked her lips.

“Would you please stop drooling?” Cheerilee said to Carrot Top. “It’s unbecoming.”

“Says the mare with a fine young stallion waiting to be unwrapped,” Berry noted.

Cheerilee managed to blush through her magenta fur. “Um . . . Hello,” she addressed the stallion.

“You already said that,” Barnaby noted.

“So, I did,” Cheerilee answered.

“Is this even legal?” Berry asked.

“I can’t see how it possibly could be,” Cheerilee admitted.

Berry sighed. “I suppose we should go talk to the mayor.”

“Well, are you going to try him out first?” Carrot Top asked.

“What?” Cheerilee asked for the third time in as many minutes.

“I’m just saying you should test the merchandise before you have to return him is all,” Carrot protested.

“What part of ‘this probably isn’t legal’ are you failing to understand?” Berry asked.

“I can’t hear you over this fine young stallion waiting to be unwrapped over here.”

Cheerilee sighed. “Right, then. It’s off to the town hall we go . . . before we do something we’ll regret later.”





The pouch on Lodestone’s breast disgorged its contents with its expected show of poor taste. The occupants of the palace’s private dining room didn’t even bat an eyebrow at the process.

“Twilight, so good of you too arrive so promptly. We were just settling down for some tea. Won’t you and your friends join us?” Princess Celestia gestured at the table surrounded by foals and her sister Luna.

“Thank you Princess Celestia,” Twilight said, leading Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Lyra over to join the repast. “We came as quickly as we could.”

“Ah see you managed to wrangle up all of the Crusaders,” Applejack said, counting the foals at the table. “Wait a sec, yer missing one.”

“Please don’t tell us there is one more roaming around Canterlot unsupervised.” Princess Luna gasped. It was hard to tell if she was anxious over the foal or, perhaps, the city itself.

“This filly has a twin sister. Ah don’t see her about none,” Applejack said, pointing a hoof at Parvati.

“Padma?” Parvati said. “She’s not a Cutie Mark Crusader. She’s in Ravenclaw, we didn’t bring her with.”

Rarity sighed and wrapped her magic around a cup that a servant had just filled with tea. “So, what are the damages?”

“Let’s see now,” Celestia said, floating a scroll off the table. “The Crusaders are now the proud owners of five illustrious estates in Canterlot. In addition, also in the city, there are twenty-seven other properties, fifteen of which are notable venues. Additionally, there are a spattering of properties outside the city, including a failing gold mine and a more prosperous salt mine. Then there is the impressive number of bits they have in the banks as well as an imposing list of goods I have no idea what they plan to do with. These foals are going to be paying more in taxes this year than the entire annual budget of Ponyville. Luckily, we were able to stop them before they did too much damage.”

Frowning, Rainbow Dash reached out with a wing and lifted Scootaloo out of her seat, hindquarters first.

“Hey!” Scootaloo complained, flailing her limbs.

“Nope,” Rainbow said, studying the younger pegasus’ flank. “Still no conpony cutie mark. I have no idea how they manage to pull off stunts like this. And in just one afternoon no less.” She deposited Scootaloo back onto her seat.

“I can’t decide if it would be a very good idea or a very bad idea to teach them the value of a bit,” Twilight said. “You’ll be wanting them to return what they have gained today, I assume.”

Princess Luna snorted. “There was not a single pony with whom they traded with who will be permanently inconvenienced by today’s transactions. In fact, none gave anything approaching the true value of the aluminum if one were to go by the current market. To a pony, they thought they were taking advantage of gullible foals. There are clear displays of greed while it is equally evident that the foals did not legitimately know just how much of an advantage they held.”

“Yer going to let them keep all of it?” Applejack gasped.

“Yes,” Princess Celestia said. “My first assumption was that they were receiving fair market value for the large volume of aluminum they imported, which is why I feared for the economy. After going over the transactions, I saw that they were unabashedly taken advantage of. As it is, it is easy to predict that all those who traded with the foals are going to squirrel away their ill-gotten gains in hopes that I do not come after them for shamelessly defrauding the youngsters. Little do they know that it is going to come back and bite them in the flank at a later date.”

“I guess two wrongs do make a right,” Lyra said, sipping her tea. “Or at least a tidy profit.”

Rarity addressed the foals, listening to the adults talk. “New rule, no more importing aluminum from the human world. You can seriously undermine the economy of all of Equestria if you do, just like you threaten their world if you import too many gems.”

“Yes ma’am,” the foals chorused.

“Wait a minute,” Applejack piped up. “How is it they even own all that stuff? None of them are even adults.”

“That’s easy,” Twilight answered. “It’s all being held under the Cutie Mark Crusaders Herd. There are no age restrictions for herd holdings.”

“This whole thing is giving me a headache,” Rainbow Dash complained. "Not only should they not be able to do what they did, there is no way they should be able to get away with it griffin free.”

“Oh, but they shan’t be getting away with anything griffin free,” Princess Luna corrected. “They still have to pay their taxes.”

“That does it.” Applejack addressed Apple Bloom. “when we get back to the farm Ah’m having Big Mac teach you how to handle the finances. Yer going to need the practice.”

“I know what we're all going to need,” Rarity said, using her magic to reach into Lodestone’s pouch and pulling out a bottle of McCartin’s finest. “Here’s to disasters averted.”





The foals all huddled together fearfully and peered between the legs of the ponies standing between them and the heavily scorched door that had been slammed shut by the back blast. Everything and everypony in the room was now coated in fine ash ablated from every exposed surface from hock-level up.

Princess Luna turned toward Rarity and said. “Thou art never again to offer my sister firewhisky. Dost thou understand? Never again.”
> Chapter 67: To the Point
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The solicitor patiently waited for someone to answer the bell as he stood on the doorstep of the beautifully-maintained Georgian Era mansion. He reflected on how the estate, like his firm, had been passed down from generation to generation to the oldest son. He reflected on how the line of succession, like that of his firm, was destined to end with the current generation.

There was no mistaking the striking appearance the man made, dressed in the traditional pinstripe suit and bowler hat. He was acknowledged to be the best in his business, with more clients vying for his services than his firm could possibly handle. Still, he had answered the call from his oldest client, one who had lived through six of Her Majesty's wars and had served in two, clearing his day's overloaded schedule at a moment's notice. This was a summons he could not and would not ignore. Some debts could never be paid, yet that did not stop him from trying.

The client's personal nurse answered the door. "Please come with me," she said. "You are expected."

The velvety carpeting muffled their footsteps as they made their way through the richly-appointed hallway to a set of solid oaken doors. The nurse knocked thrice before swinging them open; well-oiled hinges deprived them of the creaking sound that should have accompanies such an ancient portal.

“Ah,” said the old man sitting in an overstuffed leather recliner with a blanket draped over his legs. “You’ve arrived. Good. Come in. Come in.”

“Bill,” the solicitor greeted, looking into eyes that were as alert as the day he had first met the man. “I came as soon as I could; you did say it couldn’t wait.”

“I did,” the old man acknowledged. Looking at the hat, he said, "There's no need for the titanium toque; this isn't that sort of issue." He gestured toward a desk where a lone bottle of blended malt scotch whisky stood in dusty glory. “I think some pleasure before business would be appropriate.”

The solicitor eyed the bottle before saying, “You’ve been holding onto that old thing for as long as I can remember, always said you were saving it for some special occasion.”

The old man smacked his lips, also letting his gaze drift to the bottle. “I don’t have many occasions left in me. I think now would be the perfect time to see if it was worth the wait.”

Worry creased the brow of the solicitor as he settled onto the wingback chair across from his client. “Are you feeling okay? It’s not like you to sound so defeatist.”

“I’m old. I’ve outlived my wife and my children. What’s left are people who see me as naught but a bothersome old man with a loose claim of familiarity.” Bitterness soaked the words. “I choose to outlive that whisky as well. Now open it; I have two last tasks for you.”

The nurse, still in the room, bit her lower lip, clearly not pleased that her charge was contemplating drinking spirits.

The old man chuckled at her with dry humor. “Why don’t you join us as well, dear. That bottle is older than you are, and it would only be fitting for you to enjoy it with us.”

“I couldn’t sir,” the nurse said. “I’m on duty.”

The old man made a dismissive gesture with a hand. “Poppycock. You are just as absorbed in your work as my good friend here. In fact, both of you have neglected to find someone special to fill the void. Come sit on his lap and cuddle with him; you could both use the company.”

“Sir!’ The nurse reddened at the scandalous thought.

The solicitor chuckled. “Did you call me just so you could set me up with your nurse?”

“No, but I can sense you two would be perfect together.” The old man chuckled again. “Take her on a date and charge me for your time. I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

The solicitor looked at the profusely blushing nurse. “I don’t have time for relationships,” he proclaimed.

“Make time,” the old man ordered.

The solicitor laughed as he crossed the room to open the bottle. “You know how badly my last attempt ended.”

“You’ll have better luck this time,” the old man said with certainty.

The solicitor took three glasses and splashed some of the precious liquid in them. “What tasks do you need me to do?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Felicity,” the old man said curtly.

Wincing, the solicitor braced for a tirade. “What about Felicity?”

“I need you to write her back into my will.” The tirade never came.

Placing the stopper back in the bottle, the solicitor said, “I thought you didn’t approve of her relationship.”

Silence met his assertion.

“Have you decided that she is right and you are wrong?” the solicitor asked with caution.

“I have decided that being right doesn’t matter.”

“Words of wisdom,” the solicitor said, placing a glass within easy reach of the old man and handing one to the still-blushing nurse.

“I just regret that it has taken me so long to utter them.”

“And the second task?” The solicitor retook his seat.

“I’ve decided I want to leave some lasting good in this world. Tomorrow, at noon, you shall be having lunch with a young lady named Yasemin.”

“Another date?” The solicitor took a sip, enjoying the rare treat. “I’m not that desperate, you know.”

“No.” The old man chuckled then turned to look at the nurse. “I meant it when I said I want you to sit on his lap.”

The nurse looked at the old man, her whole head doing an impression of a cherry. Then with a sigh, she decided to humor him. A few seconds later she settled onto the lap of the solicitor.

“There,” the old man said. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

The nurse lowered her eyes and nodded. “Oh,” She said noticing something out of place. “You’ve got something green and slimy on your blanket. Let me go get you a clean one.” She made to rise again.

“No.” The old man smiled wanly. “Now is not the time to fuss over the bodily functions of an old man. Stay where you are.”

She settled back down and started to worry if things might soon be taking a turn for the perverse.

The old man took a sip from his own glass, wincing visibly. “The woman you are to meet tomorrow wants to open an orphanage. You are to see that she receives three times what she is asking for to get started. Make sure my will reflects that her orphanage is to be well-funded through the years. Help her with her goal to provide a loving environment for the underprivileged children she plans on taking in.”

“That is uncharacteristically altruistic of you,” the solicitor said, too aware of the young woman sitting on his lap to mince words.

“I don’t have a lot of time left; I want to do some good before I go.” The old man placed his glass back on the table he had claimed it from. “This is a chance to do some lasting good.”

“You’ll be around for years to come,” the solicitor returned, getting a whiff of the nurse’s hair as she turned toward the old man in surprise.

“You’re a solicitor,” the old man noted. “You should be a better liar than that.”

“You’re a friend,” the solicitor said. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

The old man sighed, letting his eyes slide shut. “You have your tasks. I trust you’ll do what is necessary. Take the bottle with you; I find it’s not to my liking. And most importantly, don’t forget to ask her on that date.”

The solicitor looked the woman sitting on his lap in the eyes. “Friday?”

She nodded her head rapidly, unable to maintain the eye contact.

Years later, lovingly holding his firstborn in his arms, the solicitor would reflect that the bottle of liquor had been the lesser of the gifts he had received that day.





The palace in Canterlot was a true testament to the ingenuity and engineering of ponykind. The main structure seemed to defy gravity as it clung to the side of a cliff. Tastefully arranged gardens provided seas of tranquility amid the hustle and bustle of the machinations of government that transpired in its wealth of rooms. Adventure seekers would have been thrilled exploring the many towers and hidden passages from which the public was excluded. The structure was so large that it was rumored that even Celestia herself could not walk through every room in a month. Despite its size, the palace still hosted more than one unexpected meeting.

The odd girl out boggled for a second when she recognized the foals approaching. "Well, if it isn't the Gryffindors."

“Daphne Greengrass, what are y'all doing here?” Apple Bloom asked as she beheld the human girl and her escort.

“My parents sent me back to our suite,” Daphne said, exasperated. “They are spending the night in the hospital with my sister and won’t let me stay.”

“Your sister is in the hospital?” Neville asked. “I’m sorry to hear that; I hate hospitals.”

A wave of agreement washed through the foals and the adult ponies escorting them.

“It’s actually good news,” Daphne said. “My sister has been a victim of a curse since birth. The ponies were able to remove it, and now she is better off than she was before.”

“I’m sorry to rush everypony,” Lyra interjected. “We need to owl ourselves back to Ponyville to be in time for our prior engagement.”

“Please don’t let me keep you,” Daphne said politely.

“Sweetie,” Rarity said, “why don’t you invite your friend to spend the night. There is no reason she should suffer alone in a strange room, and I’m sure she’d appreciate the company.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Daphne said. “I can handle a night by myself.”

“Nonsense,” Rarity tutted. “I'm sure your parents would agree. It is better to be in company than to sit and worry alone. And don’t tell me you aren’t worrying. I know I would in your place even if I knew my sister would recover.”

“I’ll be fine. Really, I will,” Daphne insisted.

“Trust me, you’re going to lose this argument,” Rainbow Dash said to Daphne. “Better to just get it over with and accept.”

“I’d have to inform my parents.” Daphne tried one last objection.

"Simplicity itself,” Rarity said, turning to the guard. “Please be so kind as to inform her parents of the change in plans.”

“Yes ma’am.” The guard saluted sharply before trotting away to deliver the message.





Bon Bon had been relieved when Lodestone had glided into the room and roosted next to Hedwig on the white owl’s perch. She had, however, not been prepared for the torrent of ponies that flowed from his pouch once she said the release phrase.

“I see you found our lost foal,” Bon Bon said to Lyra as the green mare picked herself up off the floor. “And everypony else’s.”

“Sorry Bon Bon; we had to collect them all from Canterlot. They were doing their level best to collapse the economy.”

Bon Bon stared at Lyra. “The scary thing is I can’t tell if you are joking or not.”

“Yeah . . . about that . . .” Rainbow Dash said.

Bon Bon face-hoofed. “You know what? Unless this is an emergency, it can wait.”

“Does the Crusaders owning half of Canterlot count as an emergency?” Rainbow asked.

“No.”

“Then we’re good,” Applejack said.

Bon Bon sighed before directing her attention to Harry. “You do remember that we have a dinner appointment with your aunt?” she asked with a hint of disappointment. “I need you to go to your trunk and get a suitable out . . .”

That was as far as she got before she found herself with a face full of filly. Acutely aware of the weight grasping behind her head, Bon Bon stared into a pair of orange eyes.

“Yer taking him where?” asked the filly coldly.

Speechless, Bon Bon blinked in surprise.

“Apple Bloom! Get down this instant,” Applejack snapped. “Yer being rude.”

Apple Bloom ignored the older farm pony and continued the staring contest.

“Harry Potter’s aunt wants a chance to apologize for everything she did to him,” Lyra said. “Don’t worry, me and Bonnie are going to be there with him.”

“Ah’m sorry Bon Bon. Ah don’t know what got into 'er. She normally listens better than this.” Applejack trotted forward to claim the smallest Apple.

“Ah’m going with.” Apple Bloom refused to release her hold even as Applejack tugged on the scruff of her neck and only succeeded in dragging Bon Bon a few steps forward.

“Yer going home an' getting a lickin’ is where you are going.” Applejack said around a mouthful of red mane, still tugging.

“Ah’m going with.” There was nothing in Apple Bloom’s tone that hinted that her words were anything but a statement of fact.

“And that,” Rainbow Dash said, “is why she is alpha mare . . . er, filly.”

Applejack sighed and released her grip. “We are having a talk when you get back.”





Emma Granger smiled when Lodestone landed next to her own owl on the elaborate perch in the family room. “I was starting to get worried,” she said, tapping the bird’s pouch with her wand. “Ex dimittere.”

Soon, the family room was filled with ponies.

“Looks like you brought half of their class,” Emma noted, counting the foals on the floor and the pair who had taken up residence on her ceiling.

“Yes.” Lyra got to her hooves. “They spent an eventful day in Canterlot. We were hoping they could use your floo to make their ways home.”

“Of course,” Emma said. “We’ve plenty of powder, though I know for a fact that Dean doesn’t have a connection near his home. I’ll call him and his sisters a cab. Apple Bloom can be owled directly to Applejack.”

“Ah’m here to keep an eye on Harry Potter,” Apple Bloom said.

“Oh?” Emma said. “I suppose we could manage that. You’re close enough in size to Hermione that you can wear one of her dresses.”

“A cab is too expensive,” Dean said. “We can take the bus.”

“I’m not sending children home on a bus at this hour. Besides, there’s not a direct route,” Emma said sternly. “I’d take you myself if we weren’t on a schedule. A cab will have to do.”

“The knight bus isn’t that bad,” Luna said, hanging from the ceiling and still wearing her welding glasses. “It wouldn’t take all night either.”

“Night bus?” Emma asked, looking up.

“I’ll show you,” Luna said, dropping from the ceiling and changing in time to make a perfect two-point landing. “We just have to go out front. It gets messy if you summon it in the house.”

“Emma Granger, you remember Bon Bon, my partner?” Lyra said standing up in human form.

“Hello, Bon Bon.” Emma said, following the foals turning into children as they exited the room. “I do hope you are going to enjoy your first foray into being human.”

“Hello, Emma Granger. I’ve been human long enough for Rarity to make me a dress,” Bon Bon said, also standing on her human feet and wearing an understatedly elegant cream-colored outfit, “but I am looking forward to my first human meal.”

“Are you going to be all right eating meat?” Emma asked as the front door was opened and the children filed out.

“I’ve been practicing with pork bought from the Apple Farm,” Bon Bon said confidently. “And fish from the market; we do have a good-sized population of pegasai who love eating fish.”

“She’ll be fine.” Lyra insisted. “I got used to it myself, after all.”

“What are they doing?” Emma asked, watching the children stop at the curb and Luna raising her wand. There was a loud bang, and suddenly there was a deformed purple bus parked in front of her house.

“Sweet Celestia!” Bon Bon cried out.

“Eh, that is more impressive than the red ones in London,” Lyra admitted. “Nice bit of spellwork, too.”

“It’s . . . it's three decks high,” Emma stammered. “A stiff wind would see it tipping over.”

“Are we seriously considering letting the foals ride in that?” Bon Bon said, aghast.

The three women rushed toward the vehicle as Luna, Dean, and his sisters were climbing aboard.

“You sure you won’t come with us?” Luna was asking of Neville when they arrived.

“Nah,” Neville said, pointing over his shoulder. “We’ll take the floo, it’s faster.”

“And safer,” Hermione added.

“Here now,” the driver said testily. “I’ll have you know: the knight bus is perfectly safe.”

“It’s a heart attack waiting to happen, is what it is,” Hermione said, remembering her ride on it with Moody.

“We have a supply of potions on hand for just that eventuality,” the driver informed her. “Want one? They’re twelve sickles each.”





On quiet Privet Drive in the quaint village of Little Whinging, one rotund boy was seeing red. Everything was wrong in the world. Nothing made sense anymore, and somehow it was the freak’s fault.

He had been back from Smeltings Academy for two whole days now, and they had been the most horrible days of his life. His parents must have been replaced by changelings; they looked the same, but they behaved completely different. Dudley didn’t know what was the worst change. His mother had flatly refused to let him have thirds of supper his first night back. It was his favorite meal, but his mother wouldn’t let him have a third helping! Well, he had done what he had always done when he didn’t get his way. He threw a temper tantrum. Then, instead of giving him what he wanted, his mother had sent him to his room! For the first time in his life, he had been sent to his room! The injustice was stifling. It was deserving of a proper fit. So, he did just that, sending toys flying to crash into the walls. He would let his displeasure be known.

It should have worked. He should have gotten what he wanted then. Yet, for some reason, he did not get the third helping he so clearly deserved. What he got was a chair in the kitchen, facing the corner. Never before had he been subjected to such torture. It had been dreadful.

Things went further downhill the next day. When he had complained that his precious new remote-controlled airplane model had been broken the night before and needed to be replaced, he had been informed that, no, it wasn’t getting replaced and that he needed to learn to have respect for what he had been given. That was patently unfair; it hadn’t even been his fault it got broken in the first place. It was his parents’ fault for sending him to his room without thirds. The injustice brought hot tears and another fit. That, in turn, resulted in his being confined to his room for most of the day. Worse yet, he could not properly let his resentment be known since he knew it would mean sitting in the corner yet again. He found he badly wanted to avoid another timeout. Instead, he spent the day angrily tearing his model airplane into small pieces. It didn’t matter; it was broken anyway.

The real blow had come just an hour ago. He had to dress smartly for dinner guests. The guests would include the freak, who would, thankfully, no longer be living with them. When his mother told him, he had sensed something . . . not right. She seemed . . . sad? That was the missing puzzle piece; this had to be the freak's fault. The freak must have done something unspeakable, leaving Dudley and his family to suffer.

It was the pig tail all over again.

By the time the guests had arrived, he had been stewing in anger for what seemed like an eternity. His mother getting down on her knees to hug the freak had been appalling to watch. Noticing that his father had tears trickling from his eyes had been even more so.

Something was very wrong here.

The people who had come with the freak only added to his sense of misgiving. Oh, the man and woman introduced as dentists seemed normal enough, but the other two women were not the type that his parents would normally invite over for supper. They both had two-tone hair in colors that his father had once told him marked them as unsavory types. He had no idea why they were even allowed into the house, let alone invited.

As disturbing as the two jezebels were, they could not match the sheer annoyance of the two girls who stuck close to his freaky cousin. The one with brown hair was common-looking enough. Like any geeky girl he had ever seen before, she’d be easy enough to drive away from the freak. She surely would flee at the first hint of danger. The second girl, on the other hand, wasn’t fooling him. The pink bow in her fiery red hair and the adorably frilly pink dress did nothing to hide her character from him. As easily as he could sense fear, Dudley could also recognize the aura of a predator. He knew in his heart that if he bullied her with his gang, she would exact a painful, and possibly permanent, vengeance on them all. Neither girl had left the freak's side, even when his mother had been hugging that abomination.

Dudley would just have to wait for the right opportunity to let his cousin know his place. Things would be put right.





Daphne was loath to admit that going with the Gryffindors to Ponyville was far more enjoyable than dutifully waiting in the palace suite, alone, for her parents to return. The colts and fillies whom she had met at Pinkie's party had all taken her appearance as a human girl in stride. Although they were brimming with curiosity, they had been more interested in watching the semifinals of the first annual George dodging contest than bombarding Daphne with questions. The girl had to admit that the speed and agility that the contestants had displayed had been exhilarating. The contest was almost as entertaining as watching the occasional stallion try to strike up a conversation with Sweetie's pet.

Eventually, Mrs. Belle had come to collect ‘George’ and to take the girls to supper. She treated the trunk as if it were practically alive.

After freshening up in a rather well-appointed bathroom, Daphne found herself seated at the table with her two hostesses.

“I do hope you like purslane and dandelion souffle,” Mrs. Belle said, levitating a plate in front of her.

“Um.” Daphne said, not wanting to insult the unicorn as Sweetie’s pet tore into the plate in front of her. “I don't know if humans can eat that. Our gardener says they're weeds.”

Sweetie Belle shrugged. “Just turn into a pony. You’ll love it.”

Daphne looked doubtfully at the meal before shrugging and shrinking, transforming into the pale-yellow unicorn her little sister had found irresistible. She placed her hooves on the table and took a cautious sniff. A look of surprise crossed her face and she crossed her eyes trying to see her own horn.

“Is something the matter, darling?” Mrs. Belle asked, taking a fork in her magic.

Daphne gasped looking at her hoof as if seeing it for the first time. “Astoria has my ring!” 





The dining room table in 4 Privet Drive was more crowded than Harry could ever remember. This was the first time he could remember being allowed to actually eat at the table, rather than skulking in the kitchen like a scullery maid. The novelty of the situation could not, however, distract him from the sense of foreboding he felt as tension blanketed the room. He could not help but wonder whether his young escorts could read his mood; he was sure that if they had been using benches, both Hermione and Apple Bloom would have been practically sitting in his lap.

“You don’t have to look so worried.” Lyra broke the silence as Aunt Petunia went into the kitchen to start bringing dishes to the table. “We aren’t trying to get rid of you or anything like that. This is only a visit.”

Harry looked at her and gave a weak smile, acknowledging that he understood.

“Boy . . .” Uncle Vernon said gruffly. “Harry, listen to her. Now that I’m in my right mind, I can see how we treated you was appalling. The magic . . .” Vernon said the word with undisguised loathing. “. . . the old freak used on us made us act in ways that no decent folk would consider. It was not normal. It was disgraceful and shameful. It made us treat you like dirt and made us raise Dudley in a manner that will take some time to correct, if it is even possible.”

“Freaky magic is why you've been acting so strange since I got home?” Dudley asked from where he was sitting to his father’s right.

“It . . .” Uncle Vernon refused to say the word. “. . . made us hate Harry and neglect you. From now on, things are going to be made right. We . . .” He included Harry in a sweeping gesture. “. . . are family. It is past time we treat each other as such. Harry may not live here anymore, but he is always welcome, without reservation.”

“But,” Dudley pouted, “I want things to go back to how they were.”

“I know, dear.” Aunt Petunia came to the table carrying a covered platter. “But how we were before was wrong. The time has come for us to heal and move on.”

“The way things were was perfect.” Dudley’s voice rose in volume with his protest.

“No, they weren’t,” Aunt Petunia said sharply. “For some unexplained reason, I was made to hate my nephew. Even with the curses removed, I cannot stop hating him. Harry has done nothing to deserve either that hate or the way he was treated under this roof.”

“But, he’s a freak!” Dudley all but shouted.

“He is not a freak!” Hermione yelled back and Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes menacingly.

“Hermione!” Her father snapped.

“But.” Hermione sent her father a defiant look.

“We know,” Emma said. “It’s not his fault. You can’t expect him to change overnight.”

“Dudley, you’re being rude,” Uncle Vernon said forcefully.

“But, dad!” Dudley whined in a tone more suited for a five-year-old.

“No 'buts',” Vernon said before turning to his guests. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault either,” Lyra stated with unshed tears in her eyes.

“Have you,” Bon Bon ventured, stopped to consider her words, then finished. “Have you taken him to the hospital to check for residual spells?”

“Our hospitals can do nothing for magic,” Aunt Petunia said bringing the last dish to the table. “The magical police said that they removed everything they could find.”

“That can’t be as good as seeing a medical professional,” Bon Bon said. “Tell you what, why don’t we take you three to Ponyville’s hospital tomorrow, just to be sure.”

“I have to work tomorrow,” Uncle Vernon said, “but I don’t see any reason why my wife and son shouldn’t go.”

“Harry also sees Mending Psyche once a week. I think having you three along for a visit or two might help,” Lyra added.

“This is too serious to discuss before we eat. Save the depressing talk until after supper.” Uncle Vernon broke the train of thought. “My wife has been working all afternoon to prepare a wonderful feast in the spirit of mending what none here at the table were responsible for breaking. I, for one, look forward to cheating on my diet.” With those words he swept the domed silver cover off the centerpiece. There was much oohing and awing over the effort Aunt Petunia had put into the meal.

“What’s that?” Bon Bon asked, scrunching her nose at the strange smells emanating from the dish.

“Beef Wellington.” Apple Bloom salivated at the sight. “We haven’t had that since our first night at the Weasley’s.”

“What’s Beef Wellington?” Bon Bon asked. Her first question not in any way answered.

“Hoo boy!” Lyra muttered, preparing a long-winded explanation.





In a quiet cottage, far away from Little Whinging, a young man sprang to his feet when the anguished cry reached his ears. "Meat is MURDER!"

"Aunt Jane!" he gasped, "Should we call the police?"

Shaking her head, the elderly spinster replied, "No need, Raymond. When the wind is just right, you can hear the cry of the loons."
> Chapter 68: No Surprises
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In his long service to House Black, Kreacher had seen changes to stately Black Manor languidly drift in with the sands of time. With the passing of his mistress, the house had been his for years, and he had done his utmost to mold everything to his tastes. The color palate his mistress had chosen had meshed with his sensibilities, but he had gradually left his own imprint over the years.

That happy time ended with the abruptness of a lightning bolt as wizarding law had forced him to let the much-despised son take possession and move in the remaining members of the house. The drab and dreary colors had been banished by the light. What had been a virtual mausoleum was now brimming with life. Regardless of his personal feelings, the disgruntled house elf had to admit that what had merely been a house had truly become a home. Still, there must be something he could do to express his displeasure.

Suppertime was now fast approaching, and the master and his lady were talking to two of the other residents. The one who had just been introduced epitomized everything that Kreacher had found wrong with his new master.

“You’ve been at Celestia’s school this entire time?” Twilight asked the rainbow-haired daughter of the other woman present. “You’re the changeling I’ve been hearing about? I’ve been meaning to talk to you, first chance I got, but other things keep popping up and stealing my attention.”

“I’m not that interesting, really,” Nymphadora returned. “My pony form just happens to be unusual.”

“That’s an understatement,” Twilight said. “Many scholars believed changelings were just legends made to scare foals. You actually taking the form of one has unsettled more than one pony.”

“So, rainbow-colored unicorns are extinct then?” Andi asked, looking thoughtfully at her daughter. “And Nymphadora just happens to become one?”

“Rainbow unicorn?” Twilight said. “Oh yes, I heard that’s the form she prefers. No, changelings are shape shifters and are a different race entirely.”

“My daughter has multiple different forms?” Andi asked, confused by the news.

“No, Mum,” Nymphadora said. “I have one other form that has the ability to take on different shapes.”

“So,” Sirius said, “you do have multiple other forms. You just have to change into an intermediate form first.”

“Err,” Nymphadora said, “I guess you could look at it that way.”

“Go ahead and change,” Andi said. “I’ve seen your rainbow unicorn, now I’d like to see your intermediate form.”

Nymphadora frowned at Twilight and asked. “You’re not going to start screaming if I do?”

“Why would I?”

“It seems to be the most common reaction I get from ponies.” Nymphadora shrugged. “It’s almost as extreme as when I took a form with both wings and a horn.”

“I heard about that too.” Twilight nodded. “The nobles are still in an uproar over that incident.”

“Princess Celestia asked me not to do that again,” Nymphadora admitted.

“Well.” Andi prodded her daughter. “Let’s see already. I don’t want to wait until after supper.”

“Okay.” Nymphadora’s form melted away, and in her place stood an oddity.

“That is both creepy and cute at the same time,” Sirius said, rubbing his chin. “Those fangs look dangerous as well.”

“I’ve got venom in them too,” Nymphadora said. “Several professors have wanted to milk me, but I’m not comfortable with that idea.”

“I like the unicorn form better,” Andi said, lowering herself to her knees to take a closer look and rapping her knuckles on her daughter’s back. “It’s cuddlier.”

“Just a sec,” Nymphadora said before a green ring of flames encircled her. When they cleared, a familiar rainbow-furred unicorn sat on her haunches. “Better?”

“Much,” Andi admitted, hugging her daughter.

“Ugh!” Nymphadora cried out, her cheeks bulging. “Not now!”

“What’s the matter dear?” Andi asked. In response Nymphadora lit her horn and floated over an empty soup bowl from the already-set supper table.

“Just a sec mum.” Nymphadora aimed at the floating vessel. “Huuuuurk!” A pink substance soon filled the bowl.

Looking on with sympathy, the three humans waited for her to empty her stomach.

“Kreacher!” Andi called out. “Fetch a potion for upset tummies.”

“I don’t think that is necessary,” Twilight said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I’m pretty sure that is normal behavior for a changeling.”

“It is normal for me,” Nymphadora croaked. “It’s a daily occurrence and I’m not eating near enough to account for everything I puke up.”

“I’m almost positive that’s love honey,” Twilight said as Nymphadora levitated the now-full bowl back onto the table. “Hasn’t anypony told you that changelings feed on love?”

“I eat love?” Nymphadora asked skeptically. “Are you serious?”

“No, I am.”

The three women turned annoyed stares on the lone male present.

“What? It’s mandatory. It’s in my contract.”

Shaking her head, Nymphadora sighed. “I’ve been a pony for three months and that’s the first time anyone has thought to mention that to me.”

“Haven’t you done any research into changeling legends?” Twilight asked, exasperated.

“With all of the other things to learn and do, it kinda fell on the sideline,” Nymphadora admitted.

“That’s it!” Twilight exclaimed. “Into the library! We need measurements and samples! For science!”

“I don’t know.” Nymphadora protested, “I don’t want to be a guniee . . . hey!” Her objection was cut off, with the unicorn encased in a magical aura as Twilight brandished her wand, guiding her latest test subject toward the aforementioned room.

“It’s almost supper time,” Andi said, following.

“Supper can wait!” Somehow, Twilight was now outfitted with a lab coat, protective gloves and safety goggles.





Applejack marched angrily toward the front door of the Apple Family farmhouse, addressing her brother. “Ah can’t believe ya lost track of the twins, too! As if Percy and the Crusaders weren’t causing enough headaches as it is.”

“Here now,” Granny called from the kitchen. “Ah’m sure they are just exploring. They’ve been warned to stay out of the Everfree. Don’t y’all fret none; jus’ let them have their fun. They can’t get into too much trouble. Stop yer worrying”

“Eeeyup,” Big Mac added.

“Stop!” Applejack took a measured breath. “They are mah responsibility an’ they aren’t used to being ponies. Is it too much to ask that y'all keep an eye on ‘em while Ah try and wrangle up their older brother? Ah’m probably goin’ ta have ta tell their mother that Percy Weasley done decided to join a herd as it is.”

Granny Smith slowly ambled in from the kitchen, tsking dismissively. “Y'all need to let foals be foals.”

Applejack was about to respond when the front door burst open and the missing twins put in an appearance.

“’Scuse us!”

“Coming through!”

*Slam!* The door returned to its closed position and the arguing ponies watched the two unicorn colts frantically scramble up the stairs.

“See, that thar is one less worry,” Granny said, triumphantly.

Once again, Applejack opened her mouth to comment when there was a knocking at the door.

Snapping her jaw shut, Applejack opened the door to behold a small crowd of young fillies sitting on their haunches and looking at her expectantly.

Applejack peered at each in turn.

The fillies started to fidget.

Applejack raised an eyebrow.

The fillies fidgeted some more.

“Ah think yer done fer the day,” Applejack said.

“Aaaaaw!” The fillies laid back their ears in disappointment.

The two groups stared at each other for a few more seconds.

“Go on! Git!” Applejack said.

The fillies turned and slunk away with their tails between their legs. There was much grumbling.

“See,” Granny Smith said. “Nothing at all ta worry about.”

Applejack bewilderedly stared at Granny. “How can y'all say that?”

“They have enough sense ta run fer it when they have too,” Granny said, shuffling back toward the kitchen. “Besides, those fillies obviously let themselves be out galloped. Thar is no way a pair of new unicorns could have outpaced all them earth ponies otherwise.”





From the kitchen, Dean’s mother heard the front door open. “Is that you, kids?” she called out hopefully.

“Yes Mum!” She heard all three reply, eliciting a sigh of relief from the woman.

“The note you left said you’d be back in time for supper.” She vented. “Cutting it mighty close there. Where have you been?”

“We had tea with the princesses!” Rosie declared skipping into the kitchen. “And we got to ride the bus!”

“Princesses?” Dean’s mother asked, pausing the preparation of the meal long enough to fix her children with all of her attention. “What princesses? I do hope you behaved yourselves.”

“Princess Luna and Princess Celestia,” Eva said, looking a touch green. “Meeting them was definitely more enjoyable than the bus ride.”

“The bus was fun!” Rosie countered.

“You are too young to be riding the bus by yourselves,” Dean’s mother scolded. “Especially at this time of night. From now on, I want you to give me or your father a ring, and we’ll come get you. Now what’s this about tea with princesses?”

“Mum, the knight bus is a magic bus that was commissioned specifically for those too young or too old for normal magical transport or to help a stranded witch or wizard in need,” Dean said. “Luna says it’s perfectly safe, and it’s the conductor's job to make sure children reach their destinations in one piece.”

Dean’s mother looked at him suspiciously. “I’ll ask Emma about it and get her opinion. In the meantime, stop changing the subject; tell me about these princesses and why you were having tea with them.”

Dean shrugged. “Sweetie, Scoot and Apple are friends with the princesses. We were in town and got invited to tea.”

“You are talking about pony princesses then?” Dean’s mother clarified.

“Yup!” Rosie said. “And they’re big! And have beautiful hair!”

Dean’s mother sighed. “You have no idea how stressing it is when you three go all Narnia on me.”

“Narnia?” Rosie questioned.

“It’s from a book,” Eva explained.

“Read it to me?” Rosie asked.

“No, I don’t want you getting any ideas,” Dean’s mother said firmly.





It was a dazed-looking Nymphadora who followed Twilight and Sirius back into the dining room followed, in turn, by a still-snickering Andi. They were greeted by five individuals already at the table.

“It’s about time you showed up.” The little dragon stood on the table with his arms crossed. “Dinner was ready a half hour ago.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Spike,” Andi said. “Twilight just had some tests she wanted to run on my daughter. By the way, I’d like to introduce you to Nymphadora.”

“Call me Tonks.”

Ted laughed and said, “The wait wasn’t so bad. The appetizers took the edge off while you finished whatever it was you were doing.”

“Yeah,” Spike reluctantly agreed. “I could almost make a meal off this stuff.” He popped a cracker in his mouth and made appreciative sounds.

“It is heavenly,” Narcissa said, nibbling on her own cracker. “It makes me feel warm and fuzzy when I eat it.”

Draco sat next to his mother and discreetly downed a cracker of his own.

“You should try some,” Remus said, spreading something pink on a cracker he just picked up.

“What are you eating?” Nymphadora gasped as she watched Spike acquire another cracker and apply more pink to its surface.

“I’m not sure,” Narcissa said, taking another bite from her cracker. “But Kreacher left it sitting out for us, and it goes great on crackers.”

Stunned silence met that revelation before Sirius was the first one to find his voice. “You’ve been sitting in here munching on Nymphadora’s love honey?”

Silence returned.

Every gaze in the room drifted to Sirius.

“That sounded a whole lot worse than it had any right to.” Sirius sweated.

More silence followed.

“Right then, don’t mind me. I’ll just be in the corner cowering in terror,” Sirius said before morphing into a dog and slinking away.

Every eye in the room followed his retreat.

“Eh, I don’t see what’s the big deal,” Spike said and tossed another cracker into his mouth. "Actual honey is bee barf, after all."

Revenge, it seemed, was a dish best served cold. Love, on the other hand, seemed best served body temperature warm . . . on a cracker . . . perhaps with a glass of good pinot noir.





When she heard the front door open, Applejack looked up from the cup of cocoa she had been nursing. Granny Smith had laid down the law and forbidden her from going out to look for the last wayward colt, leaving her nothing to do but worry. It didn’t help in the least that the old mare was also at the table, occasionally sipping at her own mug.

“Percy Weasley is that you?” Applejack called out, not leaving her seat.

“No, it’s me,” Apple Bloom’s voice returned.

Applejack took a deep breath, released it slowly, then hollered. “Come in here, we need to talk.” Afterward, she turned her thoughtful gaze back on her cocoa. There came the patter of several sets of hooves rushing down the stairs. Before long, Apple Bloom came into the kitchen buttressed between Ginny Weasley and Ronald Weasley.

Granny Smith raised an eyebrow at the procession but said nothing.

Applejack looked at the three and said, “Ah only wanted ta talk to Apple Bloom.”

“Yes, ma’am we know,” Ginny said although neither she nor Ron made any effort to leave Apple Bloom’s sides.

“That’s how it’s gonna be then?” Applejack pushed her cocoa out of the way and plopped her head down on the table with a forlorn expression.

Granny Smith chortled softly, raising her own mug for another sip.

“Yer not helping,” Applejack said to the eldest mare in the room.

Said mare placed her mug on the table before saying, “This day were bound ta happen.” She smacked her lips contentedly before shifting her demeanor and fixing Apple Bloom with a hard glare. “Y'all disobeyed yer older sister.”

“Yes ma’am,” Apple Bloom admitted.

“Y'all stubbornly went yer own way when she told ya not to,” Granny accused.

“Yes ma’am,” Apple Bloom repeated.

“Y'all refused to mind her. Instead ya jus’ had to go an’ keep an eye on a colt who was already under the watchful eyes of two grown mares.”

“Yes ma’am,” Apple Bloom agreed.

Granny Smith eyed the steadfast filly and her two equally unmoving herdmates. “An’ Ah’m of the mind that ye’d do it again, given a second chance.”

“Yes ma’am,” Apple Bloom said.

“Ah see.” Granny Smith nodded her head wisely while Applejack groaned with her eyes screwed shut. “It would seem time ta have a little visit to the barn then.”

Apple Bloom’s ears started to lay back, but she caught herself and forced them forward all the while standing taller. “Yes ma’am.”

Everypony in the room swiveled an ear to capture the sound of the front door opening again. Applejack’s head shot up. “Percy Weasley, is that y'all?”

“Yes ma’am,” came the reply that caused Applejack to wince; she had been hearing those words far too much in the last five minutes.

“Y'all missed dinner,” Granny Smith called out. “Ya need me to rustle ya up some grub?”

“No, we had a nosh! Er, we ate elsewhere . . . We had hayburgers!” Percy called back, panic creeping into his voice near the end.

Applejack facehoofed so hard she nearly knocked herself out.

“Well, I’m just going to go up to my trunk and call it an early night!” Percy called, and there was the sound of hooves retreating up the stairs.

“Foals will be foals.” Granny Smith shrugged and took another sip from her mug. “Ah’ve learned not ta lose sleep over it.”

Applejack shot Granny a withering look. “Granny! How am Ah supposed to explain that to his mother?”

“Calmly and somewhere that allows fer a quick escape route,” Granny said thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t hurt none ta have yer friend Twilight handy to teleport ya away, neither.”

Applejack frowned, reached for her cocoa and downed it in one gulp, ignoring the burn.

“Don’t think we dun forgot about y'all over there,” Granny said to the three children waiting quietly. “Ronald Weasley, Ah’d think it’d be best ifn ya go up and have a chat with Percy Weasley.”

Ron looked at Apple Bloom and Ginny before replying, “I’ll stay with these two.”

Granny shook her head and said not unkindly. “Yer brother needs company; with tha twins still hiding in thar trunk, that responsibility falls on yer back. Now git on up thar.”

Ron stared back defiantly.

“Go on now. He needs ya more than these two do. Don’t make the mistake of ignoring your other kin jus’ 'cus’ you can give yer herdmates a bump of support. They know ya have their backs,” Applejack said, her head still firmly planted on the table.

“Percy will be all right,” Ron insisted. “Besides, Ginny is better at talking than I am, she should go.”

“Ronald, listen to yer elders. Go see ta yer brother,” Granny said getting out of her seat. “Ah know that y'all do things differently where ya come from, but this here conversation has taken a turn toward mares only.”

“But . . .” Ron started.

“Ron, Ah think ya should listen to her,” Apple Bloom said.

“You wouldn’t abandon me.” Ron grated.

“Ron, please.” Apple Bloom exhaled. "Ah have ta do this alone."

Ron stared at her for a few seconds before narrowing his eyes in anger. “Fine, be that way,” he said before stomping off. Soon, his hooves could be heard on the stairs.

“Go on and wait in the barn. Ah want ta talk to Applejack fer a sec,” Granny said.

“Why don’t cha go after Ron.” Apple Bloom said to Ginny. “No reason fer you ta share in mah lickin’”

Ginny’s ears wilted. “If you hadn’t gone with them, I would have.”

The two older mares shared a look. “Off to the barn with both of ya then,” Applejack said.





An unusual trio was gathered in the Black family library, while the adults went off and did adult things better left to the imagination. Once the doors to the impressive room were closed, they immediately got down to important business.

“So, you’re a dragon?” Draco asked the small purple occupant of the chair across from himself.

Spike sighed, “We might as well get this out of the way. I want to teach you how to play Ogres and Oubliettes once we get past the boring stuff.”

“So, you’re a dragon?” Draco repeated, his curiosity in no way slaked.

“I’m an Equestrian dragon . . . which is completely different from the animals you know as dragons.”

Nymphadora said, smiling at the diminutive figure, "Call me Tonks, though I can’t get away with that in this house since it's also my mother's name. I have to say, you're rather quick to point out the difference."

“It’s a safety precaution.” Spike shrugged.

“Oh?” Draco asked. “How so?”

“A Ministry official confronted me and Twilight while we were in Diagon Alley. He said I was most likely going to have to be put down as an illegally-bred dragon.”

Nymphadora winced. “That couldn’t have gone over well.”

Spike shrugged again. “He got a nice big fish tank after it was explained that I’m a citizen of Equestria and was to be treated with all due respect.”

“How did he end up with a fish tank after doing his level best to start an interdimensional incident?” Nymphadora asked, eyeing Spike skeptically.

“He has to live somewhere,” Spike said. “Twilight flatly refuses to change him back into a human.”

“Well, when the transfiguration wears off in a few days, he’ll have learned his lesson,” Nymphadora said smugly.

“I’m not so sure that it’ll wear off anytime soon,” Spike corrected. “It’s already been two and a half months.”

“Are you sure he’s still transfigured?” Nymphadora gasped.

“I hear he likes live crickets.”

“Oh.”

“Thus, the new Ministry policy not to, in any way, shape, or form, seem to threaten me,” Spike continued.

“I can see the wisdom in that,” Nymphadora conceded.

“The Minister also said that, in the future, anyone stupid enough to do that in front of Twilight was on their own and would be held accountable for the subsequent damages.”

“Just goes to prove how much smarter than Fudge Xenophilius is,” Nymphadora stated.

“So, Twilight is your friend, not your owner?” Draco asked.

Spike snorted. “Nopony owns a dragon any more than anypony owns a human.”

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Nymphadora said. “His father taught him some bad habits he needs to outgrow. Apparently, not annoying the fire-breathing dragon is one of them.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Draco said hastily. “Remember, I saw you from a distance at the pony party. I was just wondering what your connection to Twilight is. It must be close, since you are here and, supposedly, I’m to share a room with you.”

Spike eyed Draco before saying, “Twilight is my adoptive mother. She hatched and raised me."

“I’m surprised the Ministry official got off with just being made a real toady.” Nymphadora mused. “If it had been me, they’d have cleaned him off the street with a mop.”

Draco considered Spike for a few more seconds before asking Nymphadora. “What does it mean having a dragon for a cousin?”

“What do you mean ‘for a cousin’?” Nymphadora asked.

“Since the Black Family tapestry has Twilight Sparkle Black listed as Sirius’ wife, that makes him our cousin. An adoption by Sirius would even make him heir apparent Black.”

“What you talking about Draco?” Spike peered at the blonde boy with one eye closed and his head slightly tilted. “Twilight isn’t married to Sirius.”

“Yes, she is.” Draco sneered at his ignorant cousin. “The Black Family magic recognizes the union. Therefore, they are legally married.”

Spike stared, his mouth falling open.

Draco gave him a haughtily superior look.

Spike threw his head back and yelled, “Owlowiscious!”





Twilight's childhood home was again a place of happiness. Despite her initial reaction, Clouded Hope was warming up to her biological father and his family. The filly had been resistant, but like most children in her age group, it had just taken some attention and reassurances for them to work their way into her good graces. Once Shining Armor got her to talking about her time at school, she had opened up. Now, even if she hadn't completely accepted the stallion as her father, she was comfortable in the knowledge that Standard Issue was not going to be cut out of her life entirely.

Twilight Velvet could understand the poor dear’s position. Cadance had predictably panicked, but had used her position to keep her relationship to the child secret. It was obvious she didn’t want Shiny to feel obligated. That decision had very nearly backfired. The two were talking again, and the love that had been there was slowly resurfacing. But some trust had been lost, never to be regained.

Unfortunately, it would be Clouded Hope who would suffer the most. She knew Cadance as one of her mothers, but Shiny was new to her. Luckily, the past day proved that they would connect eventually, most likely sooner than later. The precious thing seemed to lap up her father’s love and affection. The situation was becoming more and more favorable. It had just taken some time.

Twilight Velvet was smiling at her son playing with her grandfilly when an owl alit on the back of the couch where she lounged.

Remembering the last time she had seen this particular bird, Twilight Velvet said. “Hello, I see you have another letter. I’m glad this one isn’t red. Hopefully, this time you brought good news.”

The owl promptly facewinged and held out the claw holding the letter.

“That can’t be a good sign,” Shining Armor said, watching his mother use her magic to retrieve the missive.

“I swear, Shiny, if this tells me you have another foal, I didn’t know about . . .” Twilight Velvet left the threat hanging.

Nervously, Shining glanced over and saw that his daughter was already displaying her survival instincts as she crept toward the exit.

He looked back to his mother in time to see the letter go up in flames. “Are you bucking kidding me!”

Countless hours of guard training kicked in as Shining bravely scooped up his daughter in his magic and fled. There had to be a late show somewhere that didn't feature letters from the end of the alphabet.





Even half shrouded in shadows, the Apple Family barn did not project an aura of menace or unease. On that cold winter eve, it still offered warmth and comfort to everypony who entered. The same could not be said for an object that Applejack wielded in her mouth with the grace of an expert. That object held both Apple Bloom’s and Ginny’s undivided attention. It was an ancient and terrible relic. It had tanned more hides than a gryphon hunting expedition prowling the grass sea. It was to be respected and avoided at all costs.

It was the SWITCH. Anypony who did not capitalize each and every letter of the word clearly never had an encounter with it. It had been bad enough when the fillies beheld it as they were waiting for their elders. Watching Applejack use it as they waited for Granny Smith left nothing to the imagination.

*swish* *snap* A bit-sized piece of skin was flayed from an apple.

“You know,” Ginny said, “back home, I’ve seen my brothers get switched, but Dad never once hit me. Being the only girl meant that punishment was off limits. I just got yelled at a lot when I did something wrong. In a strange way, I’m looking forward to this.”

Not taking her eyes off the object, Apple Bloom said, “That has got to be the craziest thing Ah ever dun heard.”

*zip* *zip* The top of a head of cabbage was shredded into slaw.

Ginny shrugged. “Chalk it up to me wanting to test the limits of my pony body. I’m supposed to be a lot more resistant but really haven’t tested it in anyway.”

“That thar is something you don’t want to purposefully check. The concept of pain is the same no matter where ya go.”

*swish* *pop* A candle went dead as the tip of its wick shattered.

“I know.” Ginny tilted her head. “But it is kind of nice to be treated like others instead of being the special case.”

“Y'all have some strange ideas,” Apple Bloom said. “Don’t worry none though; they’re about to be corrected.”

*zip* The top flew off a pumpkin.

Further discussion was interrupted by the hinges on the barn door groaning in protest. In came Granny Smith with an unreadable expression on her face. She almost seemed sad.

Applejack reverently placed the SWITCH in its holder and tilted her hat back before addressing Ginny. “It ain’t too late fer you ta join Ron.”

Ginny just looked up at her and shook her head.

“That thar has been decided then,” Granny Smith said before looking at Applejack. “Go on and get it.”

“Yes Granny.” Applejack laid her ears back and lowered her head as if in mourning. She then went to the corner and bypassed the SWITCH entirely. Instead, she retrieved a low round table which she placed in the middle of the barn. Next, she approached a large, heavy box of equipment which she pushed out of the way to reveal a trap door that Apple Bloom had never seen before. In a flash, Applejack had disappeared down it only to return shortly with an ancient-looking jug and a small journal, both of which she placed on the table, followed closely by four empty shot glasses.

“Pear Butter should have been tha one here ta do this.” Granny Smith sighed, sitting at the table. “'Tain’t fair that Ah’m here and she’s not.”

In confusion, the two fillies glanced at the SWITCH then back at Granny Smith.

“There ain’t goin’ ta be any of that,” Granny Smith said, tapping the table with a hoof. “Come sit.”

Hesitantly, the two fillies did just that and Applejack joined them, tears clearly visible in her eyes.

“What’s wrong sis?” Apple Bloom asked, concern for her older sister overriding her other worries.

“Nuthin’ is wrong.” Granny said softly. “She is jus’ being hit by the realization that you are growin’ up.”

Granny Smith looked at the others sitting at the table and gave a wan smile. She then tapped the jug with a hoof to draw attention to it.

“This,” she said reverently, “is older than the farm. It’s been in our family since before the shindig with the Windigos. Be careful when ya handle it.” She then pulled the journal over and tapped it in turn. “This holds the recipe. Salted and aged cider. When ya use some, ya replace it so that the next generation has its share.”

Apple Bloom and Ginny peered at the really, really, really old piece of clayware before turning questioning gazes on Granny Smith.

“Ah don’t get it,” Apple Bloom admitted.

Applejack sighed. “Taking responsibility fer yerself an’ yer actions is part of growing up.”

“Taking responsibility for the safety an’ happiness of others along wif being willin’ to accept the consequences means there are no fillies sitting at this table tonight.” Granny had removed the cork from the jug and was pouring some of the precious liquid into each of the four shot glasses. “Only mares.”
> Chapter 69: Commerce, Construction, and Commitment
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the living room of the quaint cottage, the synthetic stallion failed to reconcile what he saw with what he felt. Although there were no overt cues, the dwelling exuded estrogen. The couch that held his attention was a prime example of the dissonance. It lacked the frills or pattern that would have screamed femininity, but no one could even begin to conceive that it might be owned by a stallion. The truth of that observation was borne out by the undeniably cute mare who lay upon the living room's centerpiece, snuggling with a blanket. There was something captivating about the gentle rasps her breath made as her barrel rose and fell. Doubtless, if Professor Snape's apprentices were exemplars, this mare would transform into a stunningly beautiful woman.

Barnaby Lee had found his host to have been a perfect gentlemare, sacrificing her own bed so that he might rest unmolested. Still, he had found the foreign environment disquieting, and the first rays of dawn had quickly roused him to full wakefulness. He had quietly made his way to a guest chair in the living room. From this perch, he had watched his hostess peacefully dosing on her makeshift bed.

As he watched, he reflected on what he had learned about the mare. She had told him she was a teacher, unwittingly triggering an old fantasy. If he could persuade Primus Tiara to lend him her transfiguration ring, he could no doubt convince his soon to be erstwhile bride to "test the merchandise" as Carrot Top had so crassly suggested. In fact, he should be able to get that mare and her friend Berry to join them in what would no doubt be the educational experience of a lifetime.

The best part was that he would have sated his desires, and with the end of the winter break, the laws of this land would let him escape, unfettered. The mayor had already started the process to nullify the contract with a letter to their princesses. The mare fully expected her ruler to arrive the next day to void the contract. Since Barnaby himself had taken no action to prompt this response, he would have fulfilled his obligation to his primus while regaining his freedom.

It was a perfect Slytherin scenario. Carrot Top had practically thrown herself at him, and he should have no problem manipulating her to persuade Berry and Cheerilee to satisfy their curiosity. Transfigured, the trio should sport assets that would put any supermodel to shame. A few honeyed words should make the mares think that it was their idea to take advantage of him. Once he had taken his fill, he could easily play the part of the victim, with no one being the wiser.

From his perch on the guest chair, Barnaby Lee licked his lips in anticipation as he watched Cheerilee slumber. Like any typical seventeen-year-old boy, he let his imagination run wild, shifting in his seat as he attempted to conceal his mounting excitement. Getting that ring would be his top priority.





Marcy Weiss found that, from a professional standpoint, she could not be happier. Her tutoring position was a teacher's dream assignment. Mr. Discord's contract had given her so much leeway that her colleague Richard's seemed like a short leash. The trio from Gryffindor were the only students she was obligated to tutor. She was free to teach anyone else she desired. She had let the student body know that she was open to teaching anyone who was willing to learn, so there were no malcontents among her students. The entirety of Ravenclaw had jumped at her offer, as had two thirds of both Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Gryffindor had unsurprisingly been less academically inclined, with only half of the house taking advantage of this invaluable resource. The remaining did not want to exchange their nap time for actual learning.

Her students were acutely aware that Marcy was under no obligation to teach them, and they did their utmost to avoid the alternative. Discipline was self-administered. While they were far from being perfect students, they were always on their best behavior.

Ron Weasley was the proverbial red lantern, who, if left to his own devices, would be the epitome of a slacker. However, loyalty to his year mates, or herd, as they were apt to call themselves, had prompted him to put in enough effort to scrape along at a barely-acceptable level. Marcy had noted that Mr. Weasley had unwittingly absorbed some good study habits despite his avowed disdain for academics. Surprisingly, Scoot Aloo had also made a similar adaptation and consistently remained a step or two ahead of Ron.

Still, she had needed to occasionally provide firm guidance to keep that pair on the right path. It had taken a few reminders that they were her true responsibility to convince them to consistently do their utmost to learn. Mr. Discord had given her ample incentive to see that the Gryffindor first-years were properly educated; he was paying her the salary of a full professor while giving her only the obligation of a tutor.

There was a distinct downside to the position. In a normal setting, her greatest obstacle would have been coordinating her curriculum with the schedule of the sanctioned class. Instead, she found herself teaching in a vacuum. An audit of Professor Binns' classes had revealed they were, for the most part, a waste of time. While his incessant droning about the Goblin wars was factually accurate, he simply did not do any teaching. As a ghost, he could not collect homework. He could not discipline students. He could not administer tests. He could not even allow himself to be interrupted by student questions.

Marcy had found that she alone would have to shoulder the responsibility of teaching her students. To meet Hogwarts' standards, she had used a copying charm on her students' homework, and she had placed the duplicates on the same table where those still in Binns' classes turned in their assignments. Since the ghost could not correct the papers, house elves repurposed them as a convenient form of tinder. Marcy, however, graded the originals and returned them to her students. She was determined to see that Magical Britain would no longer have the worst history marks among the ICW members.

The first term had featured some unexpected changes. When Marcy had first arrived at the school, she had been sharing a common room with Richard. When Richard had taken on the DADA post that Quirrell had abandoned, the former auror had taken the former professor's quarters, and Richard's assistant had moved into his old room.

Richard's assistant had proven to be eccentric, to say the least. Miss Fizzlepop Berrytwist was as far from normal as Marcy could expect anyone to be. Her hair coloring was the most obvious indication; there was no way any person should have hair the colors of a dying star, but Marcy was in the position to know it was natural. Stranger still was the fact that Fizzlepop seemed to be a naturist at heart. Marcy was sure that the woman would have blithely wandered the hallways in her birthday suit had Marcy failed to explain the concept of modesty.

Fizzlepop had certainly shown no hesitation in flaunting her body around Marcy. The tutor blushed at the thought of how well-sculpted the assistant's body was. Fizzlepop had some strange perceptions about personal space, physically greeting Marcy as if it were the norm. The way the assistant had nonchalantly tried to join Marcy in the bath had convinced the tutor that Fizzlepop was looking for a more intimate relationship; Marcy almost regretted that she was unable to reciprocate such affection.

To Marcy's surprise, Fizzlepop's magical education seemed woefully inadequate. The assistant was constantly roping Marcy into teaching her the basics. Surely, her other attributes must have convinced Mr. Discord to install her as Richard's assistant. Marcy sincerely hoped that those attributes were complementary to what the ex-auror offered. She shuddered to think that the assistant might have been hired for non-academic reasons.

Yawning, Marcy left her private room, intent on making her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. She stopped short in the common room when she saw something strange laying on a couch, reading a book. When Marcy’s door clicked shut, it looked up from its studies and smiled at her.

“Good morning, Marcy,” said the small horse.

Marcy blinked. “Fizzle?”

“Who else would it be?” Fizzle asked in her maddingly stoic voice.

Thinking quickly, Marcy compiled the clues. “You confiscated one of the first year’s rings?”

“No,” Fizzlepop said. “Graceful Charm went home for the holidays and was kind enough to lend me hers, since she won’t be needing it.”

Thinking of the potions apprentice with lime green and aqua hair, Marcy asked. “Why did she have one of the first year’s rings?”

“So she could walk around as a human,” Fizzle said, returning her gaze to her book. “They have a rule here that we are supposed to be human outside our chambers.”

“Graceful is supposed to be a horse?”

“What?” Fizzle asked dangerously.

“I asked if Graceful was born a horse?”

“We are ponies.” Fizzle grated. “Calling us horses is . . . rude.”

“Sorry, I’m just . . .” Marcy fought for words. “You were born a pony?”

“Yes.”

“All of Professor Snape’s apprentices were born ponies?”

“Yes.”

“All of the first year Gryffindors were born ponies?” Marcy gasped.

“No, only three of them were.”

“Oh.” Marcy looked at the stub of a broken horn on Fizzle’s forehead. “What happened to your head?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh.” Marcy would have backed up away from the hostility in Fizzlepop’s voice if her door hadn’t closed behind her. “Um, why haven’t you had the school nurse fix it?”

“What?!” Fizzle’s head shot up.

“It’s only bone. I’m sure if you asked her Madam Pomfrey could . . .” *Slam!* Marcy found herself talking to the closed door leading to the school corridor. There had better be some coffee for breakfast; tea just wasn’t going to cut it this morning.





From a distance, the heavily bundled children waiting at the curb in front of the suburban house looked like the three bears. Puffs of condensation formed as Dean looked at the sky and said, "Red sky in morning, shepherd's warning."

Rosie bounced in time with a disco tune that only she could hear. Her siblings watched as she finally sang the chorus.

The reality of the situation hit Eva in the face. Shocked, she declared, "We're not taking the bus!"

“Yes, we are,” Dean stated. “Dad says I need to help out around the house, so that means we’re going grocery shopping.”

“It’s not too cold to walk to the supermarket,” Eva protested.

“It is too,” Dean said. “Besides, we’d have no way to get all the groceries home, and my money only works in the wizarding world.”

“We could carry it,” Eva suggested. “I’ll bet they wouldn’t mind too much if we borrowed a cart and brought it right back. Besides, you can exchange witch money for normal money.”

“No, they get mad if you take their carts, and to get normal money, I’d need to go to the goblin bank, which would mean a ride on the bus anyway.”

“Can’t I wait here?” Eva whined.

“No, you can’t,” Dean said. “Mum and Dad said I have to watch you when they're at work, and they told you, you have to listen to me. We’re going shopping for food so they don’t have to worry about keeping the heat on.”

Eva blinked away tears. “Okay,” she agreed meekly.

“The bus is fun,” Rosie declared.

“No, it’s not,” Eva said. “It scares me.”

“Just keep your eyes closed, and you’ll be fine,” Dean said as he raised his wand. There was a bang, and then the Knight Bus was parked right in front of them.

“Good morning kiddies,” the attendant said, opening the door for them. “Off to visit some friends or family, are we?”

“We’re going grocery shopping,” Rosie declared. “We’re being helpful around the house.”

“It’ll be Wheatbound Row you’ll be wanting, then,” the driver said. “Normally, I’d say you were too young to be going so early by yourselves, but with the weather set to take a turn for the worse, there will be plenty of responsible types present to see that you don’t get yourselves in too much trouble.”

“Dean Thomas!” a voice called out from inside the bus. “Eva Thomas! Rosie Thomas! Over here.”

“Miss Heartstrings.” Dean waved as Rosie bounced up the steps and into the arms of the waiting woman. “And Miss Bon Bon. What are you doing on the bus?”

Bon Bon sat on a thinly upholstered straight-backed chair, clutching a trembling Hedwig in her lap. “We are picking up the Dursleys for a hospital visit. Unfortunately, this was our only option for transportation from Emma Granger’s house.”

Dean pressed his bank key in the receptacle for payments before dragging Eva onto the bus. “Couldn’t you have just owled yourselves?”

“No, the Dursleys can’t open owl pouches.” Lyra shook her head. “Hedwig will be able to get us back home after she’s done with her nervous breakdown, though.”

Dean noted that the owl was wearing a neatly tailored white pouch on her breast. “I don’t think she likes the bus much.”

“Smart bird,” Eva added, plopping herself on a rattan rocking chair promptly screwing her eyes shut.

“You may want to choose something more stable if the jerking motions bother you so much,” Bon Bon suggested, petting Hedwig in an attempt to keep the owl calm. Bringing her on the Knight Bus had been a bad decision. “Where are you foals headed?”

“Grocery shopping!" Rosie said, bouncing in Lyra's lap. “We’re helping out around the house!”

“Does your mother know you’re going?” Bon Bon asked suspiciously.

“It’s going to be a surprise,” Dean said, wiggling on his ottoman.

Bon Bon sighed. “If I didn’t already know you were a Crusader . . . Lyra, would you mind going with them and making sure the markets are still standing when they’re done?”

“I was just about to suggest the same thing,” Lyra said, petting Rosie’s hair in a manner similar to how Bon Bon was petting Hedwig.





“Thanks for getting us out of the owl pouch, Rarity,” Twilight said, picking herself up off the boutique's showroom floor. “I need to talk to Dylan about some sort of mechanism that allows for the pouch to automatically open upon arrival . . . preferably something involving soft padding or a mattress, as opposed to landing on hard floors.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Rarity said, using her magic to pick Spike and his rucksack up off the floor. “Though it is a small price to pay for spending the night with your beau.”

“You have no idea.” Twilight grinned. “I know humans are serial monogamists, but I’m feeling really guilty keeping Sirius all for myself.”

“I’m sure it will only take a little persuasion to get him to agree to a proper relationship,” Rarity said, floating Spike closer for a welcoming kiss on his cheek. Any awareness he may have had of the conversation went down the drain.

“I have plans along those lines,” Twilight said, “but they will have to wait. We have enough to do today as it is.”

“Rainbow Dash and Big Mac should be along shortly.” Rarity answered Twilight’s unasked question.

“Big Mac?”

“Yes.” Rarity placed Spike on the ground. “We are setting up financial advisors for the Crusaders’ affairs. Applejack may be the best at operating a farm, but I fear anything relating to managing large sums of bits is well outside her limits. Big Mac is the much more sensible choice for today’s outings. It will be a day of fancy mathematics, after all. Besides, there are few mares more capable of looking after all of the foals running around.”

“Speaking of foals, where’s Sweetie?” Twilight asked.

“She and Daphne Greengrass have collected Harry Potter and Magah with the intent of joining their friends at the Apple farm.”

“I think it’s safe to say that we will be having a less eventful day than Applejack,” Twilight said.

“Obviously,” Rarity agreed.





“Applejack?” Apple Bloom said as her sister exited the bathroom, having taken an after chores shower.

“Yes?” Applejack acknowledged.

“Can we build a greenhouse on the edge of the east fields?” Apple Bloom asked with soulful eyes. She had the added support of all of the Crusaders currently in Ponyville, a truly devastating show of cute force.

“Ah suppose that’ll keep ya busy enough fer tha day.” Applejack smiled. “Ya can used the cured wood in the stack over by tha east entrance.”

“Thank you, Applejack.”

“If’n you ask nicely, Ah’m sure the twins an’ Percy Weasley would be glad ta help as well.”

“Fred and George already said they would,” Ginny said.

“Didn’t Percy Weasley want ta help as well?” Applejack asked.

“He made off with three girls while you were in the shower,” Harry said.

“He did now, did he?” Applejack gritted her teeth.

“Yup.”

“Which way did they go?”





The Brown residence stirred as flames flashed green in the living room's fireplace. Lavender walked out of the floo, holding a pouch clutched to her chest. Several seconds later, her older brother, who had graduated Hogwarts just last year, followed her.

“Thanks for taking me to Diagon Alley,” Lavender said gratefully. “I just couldn’t wait for Mum to wake up and take me.”

“Well, you did buy me supper.” Her older brother smirked. “Besides, with me working nights and you being at Hogwarts, most of the time, I need to take the opportunities that present themselves.”

“You’ll love what I got once I put it together,” Lavender said.

“A bag that you ride our owl with? I’ll pass; I prefer to apparate.”

“This is just the first step. I need Mum for the next,” Lavender said before shouting, “Mum! Are you awake yet?!”

“If I wasn’t before, I am now,” Lavender’s mother called out from the downstairs workroom. “Where have you been?”

“Diagon Alley,” Lavender said, following her mother’s voice. “Dale took me. Are you at a good stopping point?”

“I’ve just finished one project, but I have several others that need to be finished in time to be presents for the holidays," her mother said as Lavender entered the room where Mrs. Brown did her rune work. "I’m afraid I can’t spare much time today.”

“I just need you to come with me to pick up a few things,” Lavender said. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Can’t you have your brother take you again?”

“No, I need a parent with this time.”

“That doesn’t sound too encouraging.” Lavender’s mother fixed her daughter with a stern glare. “You’re not planning anything dangerous, are you?”

“Nah, we have the same items in the common room at school,” Lavender said, heading directly to her mother’s owl. “I just need you with to buy some of them.”

“I suppose I could take a break,” her mother said, planning on evaluating the purchases before they were made.





Wheatbound Row turned out to be a small community that specialized in foodstuffs and was accessed in a manner similar to Platform 9 3/4. The noticeable lack of those wizards and witches who would have considered themselves of proper pureblood breeding made for a more welcoming atmosphere.

“A store dedicated to selling meat?” Lyra shuddered, her love of humans warring with her pony sensibilities as she followed the children into the butcher shop. “I’m just happy it’s me with you instead of Bon Bon; she’s still shaken over the ‘eating cows’ thing.”

“Yup,” Eva said. “We can get all kinds of good stuff in here.”

“I want mince pie.” Rosie informed everyone.

“I heard you the tenth time.” Dean snorted.

“You’ll forget if I don’t keep reminding you,” Rosie said.

Growling, Dean snatched a package from a festive holiday display. “Here, have a chocolate frog. Just let me have some quiet.”

Rosie took the package and started turning it over to inspect it while Dean turned his attention to the wizard behind the counter. “We’d like to start with a goose.”

“And mince pie.”

“And a couple mince pies.” Dean gritted his teeth.

The wizard looked at Dean then glanced up at Lyra for confirmation. When she nodded, he turned his attention back on Dean, only to snap it back on Lyra in shock. “You’re not planning to start singing, are you?” he asked cautiously.

“I don’t have any particular desire to,” Lyra said, tilting her head in confusion.

“Eeeeeeeee!” Everyone in the store jumped at the sound of the screaming little girl.

*Stomp!* *Stomp!* *Stomp!*

“Rosie!” Dean exclaimed.

*Stomp!* *Stomp!*

“Rosie!” Dean exclaimed again.

*Stomp!* *Stomp!* *Stomp!* *Stomp!*

“Eva, don’t help her!” Dean shouted.

“It moved!” both girls cried together.

“Of course, it did!” Dean screamed. “It was a chocolate frog!”

“Why did you give it to her?” Eva demanded.

“So, she could eat it,” Dean growled.

His younger sisters shot him a pair of withering glances.

Sighing, Dean turned back to the now-laughing wizard. “As I was saying, a goose.”

“And mince pie.”

“A couple mince pies,” Dean said, “as well as two boxes of chocolate frogs.”





Mystic Book was reading the newspaper when she sensed more than heard something land on the counter near her head. She was surprised to see an owl staring back at her. She couldn’t honestly say who was more bewildered, she or the bird.

“Who,” the owl said, giving the unicorn the letter it held in its talons.

“Thank you,” Mystic Book said cautiously as she daintily took the letter in her magic. She reread it three times before looking back at the avian. Sure enough, it was wearing a satchel. Warily, Mystic Book brought her horn closer to the object. In turn, the owl took a step backwards.

“Hold still,” Mystic said. “I’m just following the instructions.”

The owl skeptically looked at her, but it held its position.

“Est dimtree,” Mystic said once her horn was in place. “No, that wasn’t right.” She sighed and floated the letter over to have another look. “Ex dimittere?”

The bag emitted sounds reminiscent of a violin being devoured by a manticore, and something out of the darkest legends popped out. For a second time, Mystic Book wasn’t sure who was more surprised, she or the minotaur-like creature that was getting to its feet.

“Is this Ponyville again?” the creature asked once it was standing, its head barely clearing the ceiling.

“No, you’re in Canterlot, but we do have a train that stops in Ponyville,” Mystic said, doing her best not to cringe away.

“We’re not going to Ponyville,” a voice near her hooves said. “We’re here to buy more crystals.”

Looking down, Mystic saw an earth pony filly whom she’d never forget. Somehow, the child had managed to come in without Mystic noticing. “I’ll be with you in just a sec,” Mystic said and, as discreetly as possible, put herself between the filly and the strange creature.

The filly lifted a hoof to cover a giggle. “She’s with me.”

“Really?” Mystic asked as the filly scooted around her legs to stand next to the towering oddity.

“Yup, we’d like everything we purchased last time I was here,” the lavender filly said.

“I remember that sale,” Mystic replied, not taking her eyes off the taller customer. “How could I forget something bought with a promissory note from the Princess?”

“I could sit on the floor, if you like,” the creature said. “I’m sure I’d be less imposing if I were at eye level.”

“Where are my manners?” Mystic closed her eyes for a second and gave her head a small shake. “Bonjour, and welcome to Enchantment Essentials.”

“Enchantment Essentials?” The creature had interest in her voice as she looked around at the shop’s contents. “I’m going to have a look around while you’re helping Lavender.” She pulled a stick out of the clothing she was wearing and strolled over to examine a shelf of merchandise.

Mystic watched the creature walk off before returning her attention to the filly. “You didn’t bring another promissory note from the Princess, did you?” she asked.

“No, I was planning on writing one of my own this time. We have a lot of bits in the bank now,” The filly answered.

Mystic noted that the filly had yet to receive her cutie mark but decided that the resulting lack of security was worth the financial risk. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to bother her every time you want to buy something.”

“I guess I could have asked her when we were having tea yesterday.” The filly shrugged. “But it honestly never crossed my mind.”

Mystic resolved not to alienate this customer. The filly could just be fibbing, but the previous promissory note was strong evidence to the contrary. “Why don’t I assemble your purchase while you peruse my wares?”





“That’s not a lot of wood,” Harry said, looking at the pile Applejack had said they’d be allowed to use. “And there’s no glass.”

“Not a problem,” Apple Bloom replied. “We’ll jus’ send Sweetie and Ginny to get what we need while we grade the land.”

“Sure, we can just pop over to the store Hermione showed us yesterday,” Sweetie said before calling out. “Philomena, could you come here please.”

“Nah,” Apple Bloom corrected as a burst of flames appeared near Sweetie. “They weren’t wizards. Wizards can shrink it fer easy transport. Jus’ go to Diagon Alley.”

“Good point,” Scootaloo said. “Get the stuff for the foundation first, we’ll probably be done with the leveling before you get done with your shopping.”





From the comfort of his room, Severus Snape was at war with himself as he contemplated the scroll that he had received. He had tried to convince himself that, despite the tumult of his introductions to Zecora and Applejack, he had been cultivating a strictly professional relationship with each woman, exchanging owls with both. In Zecora, he had found a fellow traveler, a potions master like himself. Applejack had proven to be a font of folk medicine. Both offered skills complementary to his. Something in the back of his mind kept trying to tell him that he really wanted more.

Despite his best efforts, each missive exchanged had added to a foundation of a relationship that was more personal, more intimate. With the coming of the holidays, Snape found that the cover behind which he had been hiding had been stripped away. There was no classwork to attend. There were no apprentices to mentor. Now, he had to give a direct answer.

The women had invited him on a date.

At the same time.

At the same location.

Together.

All three of them.

Superego fired the opening volley at id. "This is not the way courtship is supposed to happen!"

Id counterattacked with blasts of its own. "It must be a pony thing."

Ego joined the fray. "Have you lost your mind? This is absolutely terrifying! Just send our regrets and be done with it."

Dual-wielding, id took aim at both antagonists. "Just feel how much we want to go. Minerva said that Lily would want us to be happy, remember?"

Superego returned fire. "This is hardly the proper way to find happiness."

Ego added, "Are you crazy? Both at once? They must have found out about each other and think you're cheating on them."

Id countered. "You know how much it means to have one woman interested in us for who we are, let alone two."

Ego shot back. "You saw what Applejack's daughter could do; we'd be lucky if we just ended up in St. Mungo's with every bone in our body broken, like Dumbledore."

Superego fired his own blast. "The proper thing to do would be to find some excuse not to go. Any excuse."

Id suddenly grew, towering over his opponents, eyes blazing with power. "We want to go."

Snape's world went white.
> Chapter 70: Pain
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pain.

That was the sum of her entire world.

It was not a single sensation; instead, it was a chorus of discordant voices, each screaming for attention, that drowned out everything else.

What she should have seen as a drab room in the infirmary was supplanted by a field of cruel red.

What she should have smelled as the scent of antiseptic was snuffed by the sting of tears.

What she should have felt as firmly gentle pads holding her body immobile was overshadowed by indescribable agony.

What she should have tasted as the bland flavor of the bindings allowing her to breathe while preventing her from biting her tongue was overshadowed by the bitterness of old regrets.

What she should have heard as the sounds of silence was overwhelmed by screams that she could not voice.

Her existence was a discordant chorus of agony, with voices growing ever louder.

And it was wonderful.

It meant she was truly alive again.

With tears flowing freely, she closed her eyes and reflected on how she had come to be in such a state.

She had, unquestionably, been less than subtle when she had burst into the mostly vacant infirmary. The only one present had been the matron herself.

Madam Pomfrey had stood up quickly to address the unfamiliar pony in the room, using the mane color as a guide. “Miss Berrytwist?! What’s the emergency? Is someone injured?”

The mare had taken several rapid breaths, fighting to gulp down enough air to respond. “Madam Pomfrey?”

“Yes, calm down. I need you to tell me if someone requires my help,” Madam Pomfrey had said sternly. “Is someone injured? Where are they right now?”

“No,” Fizzlepop had said, her eyes starting to mist, “that’s not it. That’s not it at all.”

“Why the rush, then?” Madam Pomfrey had asked, staring down at the pony.

“Marcy said,” Fizzlepop’s voice had started to quiver. “Marcy said you’d be able to fix my horn.”

Madam Pomfrey had blinked before stretching a hand out to brush aside Fizzle’s mane for an unobscured look. “This looks like an old wound.”

“It happened when I was a foal,” Fizzlepop had acknowledged, the harrowing memory snapping her mask of aloofness back in place. “It’s how I got the scar across my eye too.”

“The one you said you wanted to keep as a reminder.” Madam Pomfrey had taken her wand out to scan the damage. “Why didn’t you tell me about your horn?”

“I never,” Fizzlepop had started, before taking another deep breath. “Marcy says it’s just bone and that you could help.”

Madam Pomfrey had let a smile cross her lips and enter her eyes. “A gross oversimplification, but I might manage something useful.”

Fizzle had stared at her before whispering, “Please.”

Pomfrey had frowned at her. “From what I’ve observed, unicorn horns are a lot more complicated than just bone. There are a substantial number of nerves involved. That, coupled with the fact I would be unable to give you anything for the pain, means what you are asking would be extremely unpleasant.”

“I don’t care.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t rush into this.” Madam Pomfrey had frowned. “Maybe sleep on the decision. It’s just a horn after all.”

“No!” The shout had gotten away from her, breaking her normally calm demeanor. “No,” she had repeated more quietly. “There’s nothing to decide. I don’t care how much it hurts. I don’t care if you have to take all of my legs for it to work. Please, give me back my horn.”

Madam Pomfrey had eyed her for a good minute before she had said, “Surely, your own people have a less painful way of regrowing horns. No, wait, you did say you lost it as a foal. Have they no treatment?”

“Horn loss is not common. Short of sawing it off, anything that takes a unicorn’s horn usually takes her life as well.” Fizzlepop had sighed. “I was unnaturally lucky, or unlucky, depending on your point of view.”

Another minute had passed before Pomfrey had said, “You don’t understand. I have no idea how much potion is the correct amount. I can guess, but to be sure, I’d have to triple the dose. This means there will be bleed off. While that is easy to treat with no risk to you, it will magnify the pain. Since there is no prior information for regrowing this particular body part, not only is it going to be painful, it is also going to be much more painful that it ought to be.”

Fizzlepop hadn't waited even a heartbeat before she had given her reply. “Somepony has to be first. It might as well be me.”

A long drawn out sigh had followed. “This will hurt a lot.”

“It will be worth it.”

Madam Pomfrey had lied.

The regrowing didn’t hurt a lot.

It was pain distilled as a raw element.

Still . . .

Undeniably worth it.





One room in Canterlot General Hospital was quite different from all of the others. Its blandly-colored walls and furnishings projected an aura of serenity, and the chairs were lounges that afforded comfort and quiet dignity. This was meant for gathering those ponies in the most fragile state of mind. Mending Psyche appreciated the stability that it gave her sessions.

Among ponies, suicide was as rare as a politician's scruples. Only in an absolutely horrendous year would the number exceed what twins could count on their hooves and tails. Each seat in the room was occupied by an undesirable outlier. Each pony was motivated to take their own life. Each pony was a reminder of a war that Mending knew she could not win. Each pony was a reason for her to keep fighting.

Some might argue that this was a breeding ground for heroes. As a group, they had saved foals, saved mares, saved stallions. As a group, they had saved villages, saved crops, saved so many things. The only thing they did not save was themselves. It seemed that years of group therapy inspired them to find something greater than themselves that was worth dying for.

Mending's job was to make them believe that there were things worth living for. Her successes were many, but each failure was another heartbreak, another weight on her soul. An outsider would have been impressed by the statistics. Mending's work had more than halved the number of suicides. Mending, however, saw beyond the numbers. For every group of ten, two would not survive the year, and two more would not survive the decade. By contrast, ninety percent of those who refused therapy ended their lives at their own hooves.

From a totalitarian standpoint, Mending's job was unnecessary. Because the number of suicides was statistically insignificant, the lives saved and the lives lost made no difference to ponykind as a whole. From an equine standpoint, each life was precious, and Mending would be damned before she would end her quest.

“Hello everypony,” Mending greeted the room, emoting as much happiness and care as she could manage. “I’m glad to see you all made it to our weekly get together.”

The returned salutations covered the entire spectrum. Chipper Smile did her best to live up to her name while South Storm scarcely gave an acknowledging grunt, refusing to make eye contact in the process. Mending feared one of the two was going to be her next statistic.

“As usual, we’ll start out with some announcements,” Mending said, looking down at her clipboard to refresh her memory. There was a knock on the door, interrupting her routine. “The first one being that there is somepony at the door.”

The jest brought a few chuckles, leading to Mending mentally making note of who had and who had not responded to the humor.

A magic aura surrounded the knob and opened the door, admitting Dr. Leg Splint. Behind him was what Mending assumed to be a human stallion. With only Harry Potter and Fluttershy's human form as guides, she was uncertain of the human's level of maturity.

"I'm sorry to intrude," said Dr. Splint. "Everypony we need to see is here for your weekly meeting, so I thought we'd save ourselves the trouble of hunting them down individually.

Mending gave a questioning look but held her tongue.

“This is South Storm,” Dr. Splint said, trotting up to the stallion in question. “He shattered his left wing in a tragic accident with his weather team. One hundred and seventeen individual breaks and splinters, if I recall correctly. He is in constant pain due to his refusal to undergo the necessary surgery and is at constant risk of infection.”

“You are not taking my wing,” South Storm snarled at the doctor, turning his body so that he could ward off the intruders with his good wing.

“Hello Mr. Storm,” the human said, taking out a fancily carved stick. “I am Healer Yates. I am here at the request of Princess Celestia to see what might be done to help you.”

“You can’t help me,” South Storm sadly said. “Nopony can.”

“That remains to be seen,” Healer Yates said, sitting on the floor. “We won’t know until we try.”

South Storm lowered his head and said. “Just leave me alone. I told you nopony can help me.”

With those words, Mending felt alarm bells ringing in her head. Her patient was in a very dark place.

Healer Yates replied, "Then it is a good thing that I am not a pony." He swirled his hand in a tight circle, gesturing for South Storm to turn around. “Please, may I have a look? I promise, you’ll be no worse off than when I entered this room.”

Dejectedly, without a word, South Storm turned to present a wing tightly bound to his barrel.

“Thank you.” Healer Yates made a brief gesture with his stick, muttering under his breath and the bandages vanished without a trace. He then started waving his stick over the wing as South Storm gasped at the pain of his suddenly-released wing. “This is a very severe case, and infection is setting in.”

Dr. Splint lit his horn and focused his attention on South Storm. “It always was just a matter of time. We need to treat that before it spreads to the rest of his body.”

“You are not taking my wing.” South Storm took a sidestep away from the human healer.

“I don’t think it will come to that,” Healer Yates said, reassuringly. “Now please hold still, I need to concentrate.”

“What are you going to do?” South Storm demanded as the human moved his stick and said some strange words.

“Do?” Healer Yates said, pausing in waving his stick. “What I’m going to do is replace the bones and bone fragments in your wing with magical placeholders. Then, we’ll find you a bed and give you something for that infection. Later, we’ll give you a potion to regrow your bones. I think I’ll do two of your ribs while I’m at it, but they can wait until after we get you stabilized.”

Ten pegasi and Mending all gasped at the declaration. Chipper Smile launched herself out of her chair, literally climbing over Falling Rain to get a closer look and to ask the most important question. “Is he going to be able to fly again?” She glanced at her own misshapen wing. “Are we all going to be able to fly again?”

“That is the goal,” Healer Yates said, once again stopping his stick movement. “If this doesn’t work, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve.

Mending was giddy; she’d take any help she could get to buck statistics in the face.





Aboard the Canterlot Express, nopony noticed the owl who flew in from an orthogonal dimension. The window-rattling belch, however, did not go unnoticed. Everypony glared at the unapologetic lavender unicorn at its epicenter. As creatures from a fairytale exited the owl's pouch, conversation among the passengers came to a dead stop. Taking advantage of the height her human form afforded, Bon Bon spotted a rainbow-hued mane and rushed to that aisle. 

“You’re on the train? What are you doing on the train?”

“Of course, we’re on the train.” Rainbow Dash shrugged at Bon Bon’s human form. “We have to go to Canterlot, so it makes sen . . . Stop poking me!”

“Mum!” said an astonished Dudley, who poked his finger at Dash’s barrel one more time. “It’s real!”

“Of course, I’m real,” Rainbow said, crossing her forehooves over her barrel. “Real awesome, that is.”

Dudley turned to look at his mother. “I want one!”

“Now, Dudders,” Petunia said nervously, aware that every pony in the moving railcar was staring at her. “I don’t think that they are pets.” She looked accusingly at Bon Bon. “When you said 'Ponyville', you weren’t being figurative, were you.”

“Nnnnope,” said Big Mac.

“This puts seeing Lily off on a magic train to shame,” Petunia said.

“Bark!” said Hedwig in what Petunia was confident was owl for, “You have no idea, lady.”

“Actually, this train does use magic,” Twilight helpfully offered.

“I don’t suppose they serve tequila?” Petunia asked hopefully as Dudley started to scratch Rainbow behind her ears.

“No,” said Rarity, “but I do still have some firewhisky in my bag.”





Human ingenuity would have appalled earth pony purists. The twins had decided that doing things the wizarding way would avoid overtaxing their delicate unicorn constitutions, so they had shared a knowing smirk before transfiguring back into their human forms. A bit of pyromancy cleared the snow from the area and left a layer of ash that could be plowed in to enrich the soil. Like the gunslingers of yore, they blew the tips of their wands before returning them to their holsters.

Apple Bloom closed her eyes and walked the perimeter of their greenhouse's site. She then carefully paced every square foot within, extending her earth pony senses to judge the soil. Surprised, she opened her eyes and declared, "This makes tha grade."

Harry asked, "What about all the leveling?"

"Tha ground told me it's good enough. Walk with me, Ron. Can't you feel it?"

"Cool!" exclaimed Scootaloo. "What do we do now?"

Fred's snowball to the side of her head answered her question. The pegasus shot upward, out of range, before declaring, "It is on!"





Seven older fillies approached the field, carefully scrutinizing the ponies behind each of the snow walls. Spotting their quarry, they advanced under the covering fire that was unwittingly provided. Daphne smirked as the fillies trapped the twins against the wall. The eldest said, "Hey there, we were wondering why you hadn’t made your way into town yet.”

Apple Bloom gasped in surprise when, instead of snowballs to the face, she found herself on the receiving end of Equestria's longest synchronized broad jump, forcing her to sink in the snow up to her cannons. She blinked a few times before looking up to find that the twins had decided to copy the Crusaders' defensive formation. She exclaimed, "What in tarnation are you two doing?"

George answered from the middle of the stack, "Getting away from them!"

Peering over the top of the wall, Apple Bloom saw the seven fillies casually trotting over. She said, “Y’all know Ah’m not that tall. They can still reach you up thar.”

“Stand on your hind legs,” Fred suggested from his spot on top of George.

“Or you could go over there, say hello, and try to make friends,” Scootaloo suggested.

“We tried that yesterday,” George said.

“That’s why we’re up here right now,” Fred added.

“They want to be our special friends, all right,” George finished.

“Hey Apple Bloom,” an orange filly said, trotting over. “you need to stop hogging all of the colts. Isn’t five enough?”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom said. “Five’s plenty, Dull Roar. But ah’m still keeping an eye on these two, so if they say ya need ta back off, ya need ta back off.”

The other fillies worked their way into the conversation.

“Understood,” Soft Rock said before addressing the two unicorns perched on Apple Bloom’s back. “We may have been too forward yesterday, but we’d still like to get to know you better. May we join in the fun?”

“I don’t understand,” said Open Secret. “The way they were talking yesterday, I thought they wanted some special someponies.”

“From what I hear,” Daphne said, also trotting up to the group, “the Weasley twins like to flirt, even with Slytherins.”

“Flirting?” asked Sad Smile. “Is that what you call it? I’d say it was more like cruel teasing!”

“Yeah,” said Random Order. “I’d like to take Fred Weasley up on his offer to find a nice quiet corner and practice kissing.”

“Kissing?” Apple Bloom did her best to look up at Fred. “What have y’all been promising these fillies?”

“We didn’t promise anything,” Fred objected.

“When we tried that line on the girls back at Hogwarts, we were lucky if all we had to do was avoid a slap to the face,” George said.

“Their loss,” Minor Miracle huffed. “I suppose you weren’t serious about the licking either.”

“I’m starting to think that since these two have made their own beds, they should sleep in them,” Scootaloo said.

“I am not a cunning linguist,” George complained.

“That does it.” Apple Bloom snapped. “No more late-night HBO for you two.”

"Wait a minute," said the remaining filly. "You two are actually those humans that everypony here's been talking about, aren't you?"

The twins nodded sheepishly.

"Why don't we start over?" she continued. "It sounds like things are a lot different where you come from." The filly held out a forehoof. “Hi, I’m Icy Hot, would you like to be friends?”

The twins shared a look before saying “Yes, we’d like that.”

“Does that mean the licking is out?”

“Minor, tone it down,” said Icy Hot. “We’re trying to find some common ground.”

“But they must be dying to have the right filly show them how to plow a furrow.”

“Minor,” warned the others.

“I’d settle for the kissing.”

“Minor!”

“Y’all realize ya deserve this,” Apple Bloom said to the unicorns climbing down from her back.

“It’s a completely unexpected reaction,” Fred said.

“We’ll be more careful in the future,” George promised.

“So, no kissing?”

“Minor!” scolded the other fillies.

“Snuggles?”

“For goodness sake, give it a rest, filly,” snapped Sad Smile.

A flash of flames brought the conversation to an end as Sweetie and Ginny appeared, carrying a large wooden box between them with Philomena perched on Sweetie’s shoulder.

“We’re back!” Ginny called out unnecessarily.

“You won’t believe what we bought,” Sweetie said. “Turns out that they sell some pretty comprehensive kits for prefabricated greenhouses.”

Several of the foals looked around for Hermione to translate, and they were slightly embarrassed when they realized she wasn’t there.

“All we have to do is bury some rune stones in the four corners, place the shrunken greenhouse in the center, tap it seven times, then run.”

“That sounds like it takes all the fun out of it,” Scootaloo said.

“Says our fastest runner,” Harry, who had been quiet up until that point, noted.





Applejack had persuaded Dainty Lace's father to disclose the location of the young mare's lair. The cave in Whitetail Woods had been easy to find; even a blind mare could have followed the trampled path in the snow. As she approached its mouth, she saw eerie shadows cast by the herd's lantern. The cave's acoustics gave an otherworldly tenor to the voices. Grimly, Applejack set her hat. It was well past time she got the situation under control.

“There you are!” Applejack exclaimed as she came around the corner.

Percy looked at Applejack in surprise.

Applejack looked at Percy in shock.

Bristle blushed.

Applejack blushed.

Gracious Tact looked defiant.

Dainty Lace glowed.

“Ah hope y’all know yer mother is going ta kill me!” Applejack called out over her shoulder as she retreated.







Lounging in a waiting room in Ponyville General Hospital, Bon Bon turned to Twilight and asked, “So, you forgot that you could owl yourselves directly to Canterlot?

“Nah,” Rainbow answered for her, looking sullen. “They decided they wanted to take a nice leisurely ride on the train and skip the cramped quarters, not to mention the embarrassment of being regurgitated. Our first meeting isn’t for another hour.”

“You’re just upset because you missed the chance to get close to Big Mac,” Rarity said. “Don’t worry, darling; he will be waiting for us when we get to Canterlot proper.”

“That’s not it!” Rainbow objected, looking away. “I just don’t get to ride with owls much.”

“I’m sure we’ll owl ourselves back. You can get closer to him then,” Rarity said.

Rainbow harrumphed, but said nothing.

“How much longer do we have to wait?” Dudley asked from his seat. As soon as he had finished his own checkup, he was led to the waiting room where he had waddled over to a filly who had been sitting next to her mother. Without asking permission, he had picked the youngster up, taken her seat, and begun petting her roughly.

The mother had started to protest but stopped herself when she saw that both her daughter and the strange creature looked content over the arrangement.

“Here comes the doctor now,” Twilight said, pointing a hoof at the professional accompanying Petunia, who mutely looked around at her surroundings.

“First of all,” the doctor said once he saw he had the attention of the room, “would somepony please explain to me how she managed to get first degree burns on her throat?”

Petunia shot Rarity a damning glare as Twilight said. “Don’t worry, we’ve already confiscated Rarity’s bottle of firewhisky. She’s proven she can’t be trusted with it.

“That’s not fair Twilight,” Rarity sulked. “How was I supposed to know it would have that effect on a human whose magic was blocked?”

“Fair enough,” the doctor said. “On to the second matter you brought her to me for. There was indeed lingering magic affecting her behavior. It was easy enough to remove. I’m afraid it has been present for a considerable amount of time and has burned some pathways into her psyche. This means that even absent, the spells are going to be affecting her outlook for some time until natural healing occurs.”

“That’s horrible,” Rarity said. “Is there nothing we can do to speed up the process?”

“I suppose if you managed to get some concentrated love, you could apply it directly to her forehead.” The doctor smirked. “Other than that, I can think of nothing offhoof.”

“Concentrated love?” Twilight asked.

“Directly to the forehead.” The doctor nodded.

“Concentrated love?” Rainbow asked.

“Directly to the forehead.” The doctor nodded.

“Concentrated love?” Dudley asked.

“Directly to the forehead.” The doctor nodded.

“Concentrated love?” the filly in Dudley’s lap asked.

“Directly to the forehead.” The doctor nodded.

“Concentrated love?” Bon Bon asked.

“Directly to the forehead.” The doctor nodded.

“Concentrated love?” the filly’s mother asked.

“Directly to the forehead.” The doctor nodded.

Everypony turned to look at Rarity expectantly. She sighed and asked, “Concentrated love?”

“Directly to the forehead.” The doctor nodded. “Now that we’ve had our laugh, if you’ll excuse me, I have some other patients I must attend.”





Lavender’s mother abandoned her exuberant study of a box full of thumb-sized crystals when she heard the sounds of the floo. It didn’t take her long to find her children in the family room. She arrived just in time to see a beaming Lavender set down her latest purchase.

“I have no idea how she managed to carry that,” Dale said, waving at the large box Lavender had been lugging. “It must weigh at least ten stones. The muggles in the store were shocked when she said she was going to be the one hauling it around.”

“Don’t you have work tonight?” Lavender’s mum asked as she surveyed the assortment of packages her daughter had dragged into the house.

“No, I had a bunch of time off saved up. I decided to take a couple days off.”

“Do you have any idea what she’s making?”

“Mum,” Dale said, “she just dragged me into the biggest store I’ve ever seen. Packed full of muggles, I might add. I haven’t a clue about half of what I’ve seen. I don’t think even my friends who took muggle studies would know.”

“Okay, I’ve got everything,” Lavender said, skipping past her mother and brother on her way to the floo. “Now I just need Hermione and maybe Seamus to put everything together for me.”





“You sure bought a lot of food,” Lyra said as she watched the colt stuff his latest purchase into the pocket of his coat. “You may have gone overboard.”

“Nah,” Dean said. “It all has preservation spells. I can leave Eva my spare wand so she can unshrink it when I’m at school.”

“You have a spare wand?” Rosie perked up.

“No,” Dean said, hastily. “No, I don’t.”

“I want a wand too. Why are you giving it to Eva?” Rosie wailed.

“You’re too young for a wand, and I’m not giving it to Eva. It will just be there so she can get you something to eat.”

“I wanna see your wand,” Rosie wailed.

“Shhh, shhhh,” Dean shushed. “You can’t see my wand. Tell you what, I’ll take you to the candy store instead.”

“I didn’t see a candy store,” Lyra said. “Besides, you have two boxes of chocolate frogs.”

“I dun wanna frog!” Rosie screeched.

“Shh, Shh,” Dean said. “They have a floo. We can go to Honeyduke's in Hogsmead and I’ll get you something you like.”

“Okay,” Rosie said, lowering her voice immediately. “I like the floo.”

“Anything's better than the bus,” Eva added.





Failure hung heavily on Applejack's withers as she trudged back toward the farmhouse, cutting across the fields to save time.

She was so dead.

Molly Weasley was going to kill her. Molly Weasley was a member of a carnivorous species. Molly Weasley was going to kill her and then cook her up for lunch. Molly Weasley was going to kill her, cook her up for lunch and tan her hide for a coat.

Applejack was so dead.

It had only been two days and she had failed miserably in defending the virtue of the colt she had promised to nurture.

Molly Weasley was going to kill her, cook her up for lunch, tan her hide for a coat and use her hooves to sharpen knives.

“Things can’t get any worse,” Applejack groaned.

As soon as she realized what she had said, Applejack, lurched to a halt to perform a facehoof. “Ah sure hope ah didn’t just pull a Twilight.”

*FWUUUUUUMF!!!!*

Applejack looked up and beheld the marvel. Unicorns and earth ponies only dreamed of flying, but overhead, the colts and fillies seemed to have broken the bonds of gravity. Just like their pegasus companions, they demonstrated the limits of the Newton drag model as they swiftly flew backward.

Wait a minute. Ponies were not meant to be projectiles.

With a string of invectives that was sure to elicit a formal protest from Yakyakistan, and every place in between, Applejack galloped to intercept the flying foals. She passed a similarly galloping Magah as if the unicorn were taking a casual stroll.
> Chapter 71: Chaotic Musings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Screams of terror filled the air. The gravity of the situation was not lost on the airborne ponies as they began their descent. From this height, if the earth ponies hit the ground just right, they would escape with only a broken bone or two. The best the more delicate unicorns could hope for was a month in traction.

Scootaloo evaluated her options with the lightning-fast thought processes for which pegasi are renowned. She had enough time and wingpower to save Daphne or Sweetie Belle, but the twins were simply too heavy. Harry might be strong enough to save Ginny, but even that was questionable. Somepony was going to be hurt badly, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Harry's life flashed before his eyes. Unbidden, a memory came to the fore, a scene he had watched in the recent past. The screams brought him back to reality. Desperately, he wracked his brain as he saw his friends flailing. A true wizard would use his wand, but Harry didn't know any spells that could be even remotely useful. What use could an eleven-year old boy be against gravity? A tug on his back slowed him as his wings instinctively opened. He shouted, "I don't need a little dog Toto! I have wings!"

Scootaloo shouted, "Wait, Harry!" The other pegasus shot past and began flying in the tightest circle he could manage in the expected flight path of the herd.

Electricity crackled down Scootaloo's wings as she dove down to join him. Taking station opposite Harry, she shouted, "Faster and tighter, like me!"

Harry looked over to find Scootaloo in a vertical bank. He copied the maneuver and cried, "Sow the wind, reap the whirlwind!"

Reluctantly, the wind moved to follow the two pegasi, forming an air cushion that slowed their non-feathered companions. As they paced their companions, Harry shouted, "It's no good! They're still falling too fast!"

Scootaloo looked down, hoping to find that the impact zone would be a soft one. She shouted back, "Keep going! We need more time!"

As they sailed over the farmhouse, inspiration struck. Once again, her friends had flown to her house that morning to wake her. Daphne had borrowed Harry’s broom, and Scootaloo had brought her own just in case there was time for the herd to help Apple Bloom and Ron hone their quidditch skills after the chores were finished. In her mind's eye, she could see six Nimbus 2000s in the mud room, where they had been abandoned when the quest for a greenhouse had begun. Scootaloo shot out a forehoof toward the building and screamed, "To me!"

The voice carried into the dwelling below. Six broomsticks heeded the call of their god. The picture window in the front of the farmhouse didn't stand a chance as the brooms took to the sky.

Scootaloo's cry caught the attention of the falling. Even from their height, they could hear the window shatter into confetti. Looking down, they saw the orbiting pegasi. Further down, they saw salvation; an armada of brooms was racing up to meet them.

“Tinder! Heel!” Scootaloo heard Apple Bloom yell.

“Mr. Twittersticks come here!” Sweetie copied Applebloom's lead even as Ginny called out “Over here Dasher!” and Ron shouted. “Murphy, come!”

The twins transfigured back into their human forms and held their hands out for Scootaloo's and Harry's brooms. Obediently, the brooms came. Meanwhile, the other riders also transfigured into humans. The lessons of the quidditch pitch now came to the fore while Scootaloo and Harry continued to slow the descent of the falling.

Fred scooped up Random Order and Open Secret. George grabbed Icy Hot and Dull Roar. Ginny snagged Sad Smile while Sweetie plucked Soft Rock out of the air. Apple Bloom caught Daphne while Ron yelped, "Hey! Watch the hooves!" as Minor Miracle expressed her appreciation.

Scootaloo and Harry glided down as they were finally able to rest their burning wing muscles. They could see Applejack galloping toward them and Magah charging through the snow to intercept those on broomsticks. As soon as the pegasi touched down, they lay on their backs to let the snow soothe their aching muscles.

Harry groaned, "I must be the world's worst wizard. I couldn't think of a single spell to save my friends."

Scootaloo reached out a wingtip to touch Harry's. "I don't care. You're a real pegasus. I never would have dreamed to do a cyclone spin with only one partner. I'd be proud to have you as my wingmare."

Harry groaned. "I'm a boy."





The bespectacled man absently savored the flavors of juniper, citrus, and spice that accompanied the burn of 150 proof ethanol as he continued his discussion. The morning was still young, but days like these screamed for something to ward off the sanity robbers. He used to think that nothing in the world could truly astound him. After all, his subordinates were duty-bound to report all significant events to him promptly, regardless of how unusual they might be. He had become inured to the bizarre, despite knowing that panic would inevitably follow. He had been sure that the limits of the unusual had been reached with the impromptu visits from the Minister of Magic. He now knew he had been wrong.

The morning had begun innocuously enough. He had been in the daily briefing with the head of each government agency. The disturbance had been like a silent but deadly emission, arriving unexpectedly and leaving everyone upset as they tried to make sense of what had happened.

The meeting had scarcely begun when the conference room tabletop was suddenly occupied by seven men and seven women, each representing a different culture. Suspended above them had been a sure trigger for both coulrophobia and arachnophobia. The gaily-dressed twelve-limbed red-headed creature had been nearly as large as the table itself.

It had escaped notice as the humans had begun arguing among themselves, demanding satisfaction. No one had ignored its salutation. "Everyone, let's not be penny-wise . . ."

Screams had interrupted whatever it was going to say next. The scents of sheer terror had filled the air.

The giant spider had then sighed before absently waving a foreleg. The Prime Minister had felt a wave of calm overtake him as the screams came to a sudden end.

"Listen," it had said. "We don't have much time, and I'm in enough trouble as it is. So, no questions. I'm exploiting a loophole that allows initial encounters to be where I choose, but I can bend the rules only so far. I am a recruiter for the interdimensional stability consortium. Technically, those I take are supposed to simply disappear for the duration of their term and reappear afterward as if nothing had happened. I'm not supposed to leave any evidence, but I prefer to let your leaders know that you will be missing for the next thirty years so that you will be able to re-integrate upon your return."

"The consortium is a centralized command tasked with mitigating the effects of naturally occurring cross-dimensional contamination. Those of you coming with me shall be saving billions of lives on a regular basis. Under ordinary circumstances, your world would not be tapped for resources yet, but you have a magical subspecies that is now interacting with another dimension on a regular basis. By law, the consortium must take some from your dimension to help maintain the system that safeguards innumerable worlds. You might consider it payment for the system's transformation of pony emigrants to humans, and human emigrants to ponies. Aside from this encounter, you shouldn't be hearing from us for centuries. I apologize for the inconvenience. Farewell, new consortium members."

With the last word, the intruders had vanished without fanfare, leaving those left behind questioning their sanity.

Resolutely, the Prime Minister had reached for the intercom. “Miss White, if you wouldn’t mind, please bring the rolling bar in here. I dare say it is going to be needed.”

“So early in the day?” the woman’s voice had come.

“Yes.” The Prime Minister had released the button before saying, “Did you all just see what I did?”

A junior aide had asked, "Was this trip really necessary -- not that I've ever tried LSD."

“Just to be sure,” one official had said. “Everyone just saw a giant bloody spider appear out of nowhere with a slew of people, ramble for a bit, then disappear as if it were never here?”

A general display of nodding had rippled down the table.

“I suppose it’s too much to hope for everyone just agreeing that this never happened and go about our business as usual,” another official had quipped, drawing out another round of nodding.

“We have a magical subspecies?” the head of MI5 had asked.

“Yes, our wizards and witches like to keep a low profile for obvious reasons,” the Prime Minister had replied.

The head of MI5 had fixed the Prime Minister with a penetrating stare. “Ponies?”

“I thought the man was barmy.” The Prime Minister had sighed. “However, it looks like I may owe the Minister of Magic an apology. His stories about interdimensional ponies appear more substantial than I originally gave them credit for.”

“Minister of Magic?” the head of MI5 had asked in an unpleasant tone. Somehow, the Prime Minister had realized the day was now doomed to be a long one.





The tabletop offered an amusing perspective as Discord watched the head of MI5 grill the Prime Minister. The draconequus had traced an unexpected eddy in the interdimensional flow to the room. Appearing on the pristine conference room table as a set of salt and pepper shakers was supposed to have been a subtle joke. Being grabbed and shaken into Bloody Marys and shots of vodka was not the reception he had expected. However, if the drinkers were so eager for his input, who was he to deny them?

As a connoisseur of chaos, Discord was well aware that the improbable and the unpredictable were far more common than mere mortals might imagine. After all, it was the reaction to these events that was his bread and butter. Still, there were things that came from so far in left field that they appeared to come from the right. A consortium snatcher straying from the straight and narrow for even two minutes fell into that category.

He couldn’t begin to imagine what that aeogic had been thinking. As a race, aeogics tended toward order with sickening regularity. Exceptions were extremely rare, bordering on nonexistent. This left Discord of two minds on the matter. His salt side was screaming that this had to be a setup of some kind; it just didn’t make sense otherwise. His pepper half was calmly insisting that all of his senses agreed that it was completely random. Pepper insisted that since the consortium's laws made the Prime Directive look like a casual suggestion, there was no way the higher ups were even aware this was going to happen. Salt smugly stated that pepper had proved his point.

Despite their obvious differences, both sides agreed that, whatever the underlying cause, this incident just made things more complex. At this rate, Discord was going to need more popcorn.





Arthur was not above engaging in a bit of skullduggery if it were for a good cause, and the surprise Christmas party that he and the other guardians for the Gryffindor first-years were planning definitely qualified. The plan had been put in place as soon as the children had arrived at Platform 9 3/4. Sending his children to stay with the ponies was essential to maintain secrecy.

The smell of brimstone had added urgency to this phase of Arthur's mission. No sane wizard should be anywhere near this preserve, let alone volunteer to work here. Arthur preferred to be far away from gigantic beasts who considered him crunchy and good with ketchup, but his second-born, Charlie, had made dragons his passion. Thus, Arthur had to visit this purgatory in order to meet with his son.

Thankfully, persuading Charlie to come home for the holidays had been quick and easy; the prospect of meeting a sentient baby dragon from another dimension had proven irresistible. They would return to the Burrow tomorrow, leaving them plenty of time to prepare for the party. Now, Arthur's only worry was that word of the party might leak into Equestria.

The prospect of losing his children to foreigners had almost convinced Arthur to keep them in the Burrow. Conversations with the refugees had revealed the expectations and obligations of a herd agreement. Such an arrangement had legal and contractual obligations that were not age-restricted. His youngest son and only daughter had no idea of the implications of the contract into which they had entered. Arthur was intent on keeping Molly in the dark for as long as he could since there was nothing they could do about it. The Minister had been adamant that the Wizagamot would not allow contesting such arrangements. The fact that the Minister's only daughter was in the same contract as Arthur's children lent gravitas to that decision.

Arthur would have protested, but Croaker had made it abundantly clear that without drastic actions, the wizarding population would shrink to nothing within eight generations. The course the purebloods had charted was a road to ruin, and Arthur was disgusted at the way they had chosen to sacrifice the entirety of their world in order to maintain their precious purity. Pure or not, new blood was needed for the wizarding world to survive.

The Minister himself had recognized the existential threat. He had shared his concerns and presented the facts to a pony princess. The two had negotiated an agreement to give the wizarding world some relief. The wizarding world would recognize the legality of the herd agreements. In return, wizarding members would each be allowed one override vote for bringing a new member into their herd, ensuring that each herd would have at least one witch or muggle. The purebloods would have screamed that the bloodlines would be thinned to nothing, but anyone with any sense would have replied that having thinned blood was better than having no blood at all.

It was with trepidation that Arthur had sent his sons to Equestria. He was painfully aware that Percy and the twins might find herds of their own to join on this visit, and they were simply too young to take such a serious step. Still, his youngest two had already committed, and he knew that Percy had already met three young pony women during his first visit to Ponyville. As a father, he worried that his sons might be taking advantage of innocent ponies. His only solace was that the princess had communicated that the arrangement might allow mares to take advantage of unwary wizards. The moral undertones were enough to give a philosopher a headache.

He knew the winds of change were already blowing. There had been an owl waiting for him at the dragon preserve. The head of the Unspeakables had sent a report from the records department. All those who had been intimate with the former and current ponies were now registered as being wedded to their partners. Arthur couldn't help but wonder whether Sirius would be more surprised to learn that there was now officially a Lady Black or that there was now officially a Lord Sparkle.

The course ahead was clear. The status quo had been demolished in the interests of survival. It was now up to the current generation to navigate. Fortunately, if the Crusaders were any indication, the seas ahead were calm.





Clouds of condensation covered the heads of the draught pony team as they worked in conjunction with the brakeponies to ease the train into Appleloosa Station. Weary ponies oozed out of the cars, setting hoof on the frontier. This was the end of the line, the last bastion of pony civilization in this direction. Ironically, most of the passengers were there for a new start, including one stowaway rat who hopped down from the leeward side of the caboose's chimney.

The rat had left what he had thought was a perfect refuge. Unfortunately, while his body had been safe, his spirit had been under attack. There had been a draconequus in his paradise. His savior, Fluttershy, had an undeniably intimate relationship with the beast and his mate. Try as he might, he could not unhear the exuberance they had expressed. If there were any justice in the world, he would have been the one showing Fluttershy his appreciation.

The longer he had stayed, the more disturbing the revelations had become. He had overheard that the object of his desire, the beautiful buxom blonde Applejack was actually a pony turned human. Worse still, he had learned that she was interested in that halfblood, Snivellous. How could that woman be so blind to his obvious inferiority?

Despite the disappointments, not all the news had been bad. If Snivellous were friendly with these ponies, the other surviving Marauders would shun the ponies like lepers. Peter had reveled in the knowledge that his secret was safe. No one who could blow his cover would even dream of coming to his sanctuary.

Still, having the strange dragon-like creature around had kept him on edge. There was something undeniably familiar about the beast that Fluttershy had considered her stallion. Peter could swear that the beast would always pick him out regardless of how well hidden he might be. Worse still, the abomination seemed to understand exactly who Peter really was. That realization had put paid to any voyeuristic ambitions Peter had previously harbored.

Over the next several months, the awkwardness of the situation had tempted Peter to try his luck taking up residence in the town proper. However, the conversations he had overheard had convinced him that his current lot was preferable to being hunted down by a pest control pony. Besides, he had realized this was the perfect place to be to find a pony to adopt him as a pet.

The situation had taken a drastic turn for the worse half a week ago when one of Fluttershy's friends had visited. The purple unicorn had apparently just managed to find a break in her myriad duties to pay her friend a visit. Without modesty, she had claimed to have read enough books in the last three months to fill a modest library; Peter could scarcely believe that the mare didn't have a Ravenclaw emblem on her rump. The bombshell, however, had been a personal matter; the mare had claimed to be dating Sirius Black. Peter had realized it was only a matter of time before Padfoot would come calling.

Peter had nearly fled the cottage on the spot. Only the fear of drawing attention to himself had stayed his paws. He had maintained enough presence of mind to wait until after the ponies had left to do whatever it was that they did. Then, at his first opportunity, he had opened the puzzle box that created the transfiguration rings and stolen a handful.

He had realized that life as a rat was unfulfilling. The ponies he had observed had all turned into beautiful women. All he had to do now was to find a home far away from prying eyes. With the help of the Imperious Charm, he would have his harem. There were no Aurors around to stop him from taking what was rightfully his.

He had left the cottage with a bounce in his step. While exuberance had been part of the explanation, contact with his underside on the foot-high snow had been a stronger motivator. Sneaking onto the first train leaving town had been child's play.





“Ah can’t thank y’all enough fer taking the time ta check this out fer me,” Applejack said as she, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight approached the newest structure on the Apple Farm.

“I’m happy to help,” Twilight said as she trotted alongside her friends. “The phrase ‘the Crusaders got tossed halfway across the farm by their rogue greenhouse’ just begs for a proper investigation. If it had come from anypony else, or involved anypony else, a straitjacket would probably be in order. Besides, Rarity and Big Mac can handle the negotiations until we make sure it’s safe.”

“The Crusaders wanted to tag along and see what’s what, but Ah sent them into town with a big bag of bits. It’s not like they can’t afford it, and it’ll keep them out from under hoof,” Applejack said. “That should keep 'em out of trouble, leastwise 'til Pinkie’s party starts.”

“I’m just glad somepony else besides me has seen the flying brooms,” Rainbow said. “I thought I was losing my marbles after they showed up at my house two mornings in a row.”

“Now, thar’s another couple of sentences Ah would have thought made somepony eligible fer a straitjacket,” Applejack said.

“Nah.” Rainbow shook her head. “After ‘Rarity, your trunk just ate the mailmare’, everything else has been downright normal.”

“Since that has become an acceptable sentence, it sure says a lot about our lives,” Twilight said.

“Ah don’t know; we’ve had some doozies since George arrived,” Applejack said. “’Yer dog thinks he’s a truant officer’ comes to mind.”

“Oh, I know a good one,” Twilight said. “Could you please come and help us with the fire breathing ponies?”

“Yeah, it’s too bad you missed that entire episode,” Rainbow said. “Firewhisky is really good.”

“Mind you, Dash,” Applejack said, “when the Mayor’s assistant asked you to help Ah don’t think he meant becoming a fire breathing pony yerself.”

“Two words,” said Rainbow. “Flaming rainbow trail.”

“That’s three words,” Twilight scolded.

“I was just going to say ‘flaming Rainbow’, but that brought an image of me flying around with my mane and tail on fire.”

“Ya know,” Applejack said as they had reached the front door of the building, “this house sure don’t look green ta me.”

“The glass does have a slight blueish tint.” Twilight studied the construction. “It is literally nothing but supports and windows. Who would want to live in a house that is nothing but windows?”

“Somepony who doesn't throw stones,” Rainbow said. “Why did you let them build this, anyway?”

“Ah thought they wanted to build a green clubhouse big enough fer their entire herd.” Applejack bristled. “How was Ah supposed to know they’d build something three times the size of our home? Before lunch, even.”

“Speaking of three times the size,” Twilight said, “look at those doors.”

“So?” Rainbow asked. “I’ve seen bigger doors at the palace.”

“Yes, but those doors still have handles at pony height,” Twilight replied. “These are three times as high as those in a human house.”

“Lookie here.” Applejack had spotted a pamphlet half-buried in the snow. “Reckon those are instructions?”

“I sure hope so.” Twilight said, levitating the papers toward herself. “That box is probably relevant too.”

“First question,” Rainbow said. “Do we have to bind it before we try to open the door? I don’t want to have to try dodging this thing. Not that I couldn’t if I had to, but we are already running late for our other meetings.”

“Let’s see,” Twilight said, reading the pamphlet and turning pages with her magic. “Oh, that explains that.” Another page flipped. “This is actually an ingenious idea.” Again, a page flipped. “Well I know what happened.” Twilight said, lowering the pamphlet. “And I know why this is called a greenhouse.”

“Do we need ta bind it so it won’t attack us?” Applejack asked. “Ah don’t want to try mah luck at flying today.”

“No,” Twilight shook her head. “This building doesn’t come with offensive or defensive capabilities. What happened is an understandable mistake. You see, to properly place it, you need to bury four runestones in the corners and then say a phrase to start them charging. There is a warning, in very big red letters, not to let them charge for more than fifteen minutes but to at least allow them ten. Overcharging causes the building to grow extra-large and expels a dangerous burst of kinetic force.”

“So, yer saying the Crusader’s ignored the warning?” Applejack sighed.

“No, these instructions are based on the background magic of the human world. Here, allowing them to charge for more than four minutes is a bad idea.” Twilight looked at the pamphlet again. “But this is a building where you can grow plants any time of the year. It has controlled temperature and humidity for four distinct compartments. The kit is even supposed to come with starter plants.”

“Ah don’t see no plants in there.” Applejack peered through the glass.

“They’re in this box,” Rainbow said, slipping into the wooden container. “They got all kinds of stuff down here, including some very tasty looking flowers.”

“Don’t y'all go eating any of them.” Applejack pulled herself over the ledge and into the box. “Ah’m sure that the foals want to use them to start a garden.”

“They aren’t going to miss one or two,” Rainbow said, licking her chops.





Do you think we bought enough?” Harry asked, adding another box to the growing pile. Daisy had agreed to watch Bon Bon’s shop for the day, but she hadn’t expected a group of foals to come in and make a huge purchase of gift boxes.

“Eh,” Scootaloo said, eyeing the candies on display. “Get ten more boxes, just to be sure. If we forgot anybody, we’re covered, if not, more for us.”

“Okay,” Harry said just before there was a flash of light.

“Girls?!” Twilight said from her position sprawled on top of Applejack with her face oddly buried in the orange pony’s fur, making it impossible for her to see. “Are you there?”

“Thar here.” Applejack said. Her left forehoof was held tight against the side of her face and her right hind leg and tail were plastered to her barrel. “Mr. Cake was right.”

“Mmmmm! Mmm mmm!” Rainbow added, laying on her back atop Twilight, her wings stuck to the unicorn in what had to be an uncomfortable manner.

Sweetie Belle looked at them and said. “I see you found the spitting tulips.”





Lyra followed the three happy children out into the biting cold. The wind had picked up since they had arrived, and it was fast approaching the time she should be getting them to Ponyville for Pinkie’s party. The trip had been fruitful. The owners had sold her a barrel of every-flavor beans and some other candies at a bulk price. They would make for some novel additions to Bon Bon’s shop. In the end, it was hard to tell who was moderating whom as both she and Dean stopped each other from buying too much.

Rosie, in particular, was bouncing around crazily, having consumed way too much sugar.

“You may want to save some space.” Lyra smirked. “Pinkie is guaranteed to have made a lot to eat.”

“Are we eating lunch with her?” Eva asked, nibbling on a flashing piece of licorice.

“She’s throwing a party today. Didn’t Dean tell you?”

“She is?” Dean said. “I didn’t know.”

“I guess your herdmates forgot to tell you,” Lyra said.

“Yeah!” Rosie morphed before jumping in the air to spread her wings. “Pony party tiiiiiiiiiiime!”

The last word was said just as a stiff wind wound its way through the small village, lifting the small pony and in the blink of an eye she was sailing over the nearby forest.

Lyra sighed. “You two go wait in the pub; I’ll go get her.” With those words, she too transformed and started to gallop after the airborne foal.

Dean noted the direction in which his little sister was disappearing. He screamed as he transfigured, "That's the Forbidden Forest! Wait for me!"
> Chapter 72: Nonstandard Deviations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Petunia would have sworn that she knew exactly what it was like to be in Tartarus. Tantalus was in paradise when compared to her fate. For six summers, Lily had gushed about the world of magic. For six summers, Petunia had listened, enraptured by the wonders described. For six summers, the seeds of jealousy and resentment had been planted and nurtured. Why was she denied what her sister had been given so freely? The bitter harvest had been ensured when her sister had shunned the Muggle world, leaving Petunia to hunger for what she would be forever denied.

The time had finally come when she could start healing the rift. She had entered the world of magic as a guest of those determined to undo the damage that magic had inflicted on her. She could finally start to rid herself of the unwarranted hatred she had been forced to feel toward her nephew. Just as important, she could finally experience the world that she had known only through the words of her sister.

Somehow, reality did not align with expectations. She had expected majesty. She had expected grandeur. She had expected the arcane. She had received the absurd. Lily had never mentioned talking miniature ponies in the colors of the rainbow. If she were to close her eyes, she could easily believe that she was in the Welsh countryside.

What she had thought would be magical was, instead, mundane. Petunia had always imagined that unicorns were magical beasts, large, majestic, and white. They were supposed to be creatures of beauty, poise, and purity. What she found was a little girl whom Dudley had managed to befriend.

Somehow, the phrase "lap unicorn" was one she would have never imagined until today. That, however, was the perfect description of the friend that Dudley had to be coaxed into surrendering before they were able to leave the hospital. The dear seemed to enjoy being petted as much as Dudley enjoyed petting her.

Similarly, the phrase "doctor unicorn" was one she would have never imagined until today. The attending physician was just that, a little horse with a horn. There was no mistaking that he had used that horn as a focus to diagnose her condition.

To Petunia's relief, the prognosis was good. The doctor had cast a healing spell that should allow her throat to heal fully in a day. Fruit and hay smoothies would provide nourishment without aggravating her condition. There was, however, one complication; she was not to speak until her throat healed. Without her voice, she could not persuade Dudley to release his friend.

In the end, it had been their guide and sponsor, Bon Bon, who had convinced Dudley to release the small filly in his lap. Neither child had been pleased with the arrangement. The filly's mother had gathered the child in her wings when the pouting started, and the mare had mollified the little unicorn with whispered promises of a party to be held later in the day, with cake, punch, and muffins.

Petunia had tensed when Dudley had looked as though he would throw a tantrum. Fortunately, recent experience had taught him that public outbursts would have severe consequences. A calming hand on his shoulder had been enough to convince him to quench his anger.

The promise of a plethora of party foods had predictably caught Dudley's interest and obliterated any hope Petunia might have had of returning home promptly. When Bon Bon had shot her a questioning look at Dudley's demand to stay for the party, Petunia had sighed, but relented. What kind of mother would she be if she denied her son this once in a lifetime experience?

Now that they were staying through the afternoon, lunch became the next priority. A snack at a local café would tide them over until the party. A small hiccup in their plans arose when an orange pony in a Stetson galloped up with an absurd story about a rampaging greenhouse. Two of Bon Bon's friends rushed off with the farm pony to investigate, leaving Petunia and Dudley with just Bon Bon and the genteel little white unicorn from whom Petunia was never going to accept another drink.

Lunch itself was as uneventful as a meal in a restaurant full of curious colorful ponies could be. Luckily, Bon Bon was able to convince the waitress that no, even though the hay in the smoothie would be on the house, humans didn’t like it. Doubly luckily, Dudley had been content with a grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich. He had been more interested in watching the ponies who, in turn, were watching him. His behavior left Petunia wondering if he had taken their conversation of the previous evening to heart or if he was just afraid the ponies would do something humiliating, like give him another pig tail, if he acted up.

As they left the restaurant, Dudley asked, "Where are we going now?"

Rarity replied, "We're going to Twilight's place."

Seeing Petunia's quirked eyebrow, Bon Bon said, "She should have something there to help with your recovery."

As they neared their destination, Rarity said, "We're going to that treehouse; it's also the town's library."

Petunia and Dudley both shrugged.

Rarity said, "Don't you find that unusual? I didn't think that humans lived in trees."

Dudley said, "I heard a bunch of stories that said I should find Pooh in a treehouse."

Shocked, Bon Bon replied, "I thought you were supposed to find it in an outhouse." Without further ado, the group entered.

Petunia stopped short when she saw the non-pony working within. Lily had said that dragons were real. Lily had said they were giant ravenous beasts. Petunia never imagined that she would be greeted by one, especially one shorter than Dudley and wearing a pink, frilly apron.

“Hey Spike,” Bon Bon said. “Twilight said you’d be able to help us.”

“Glad to,” the small reptile snacking on jam and toast said. “What cha need?”

“This is Petunia Dursley,” Bon Bon said. A library patron looked at where Bon Bon was pointing and noticed the human for the first time. After a sharp intake of breath, the mare exited at transonic speed. Bon Bon continued. “The doctor said we need to apply concentrated love directly to her forehead.”

“Concentrated love?” Spike tilted his head skeptically.

“Directly to the forehead,” Bon Bon confirmed.

Petunia killed Dudley's attempted rejoinder with a glare.

“That’s awful convenient,” Spike noted.

“I can’t see how it is,” Bon Bon said. “It’s not like we can go to the market and get a jar of concentrated love.”

Spike chuckled and motioned for Petunia to come near. “You’re in luck.”

Petunia squatted next to Spike to let him take a closer look at her forehead.

“Okay, here goes,” Spike said and plastered the remains of his jam-covered toast onto Petunia’s forehead.

With a squeak, Petunia jumped back out of his reach.

“Come back and let me rub that in,” Spike implored.

“Spike!” Bon Bon gasped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m applying concentrated love directly to her forehead.” Spike shrugged. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”





Barnaby had ignored the jealous glares his entourage had received as he followed the three mares into town hall. He was practically prancing as he recalled the events of the morning. While he had been unable to secure another transformation ring, his current form had proven remarkably compatible with his companions'. It was almost a pity that his three partners seemed so guilt-ridden over their performance. It was almost a pity that he was about to leave, never to see them again.

To be fair, they had been practically passive, allowing him to explore at his pleasure. He was amazed at the way they had melted in his currently-absent hands as he indulged his every whim. The experience had been so far beyond anything that he had imagined that he had suggest that they postpone the annulment for another day. Unfortunately, that wouldn't be possible; they had received word that the princess was waiting for them.

Still, Barnaby was more than pleased with the turn of events. The contract the Primus had forced him to sign could not be enforced here, so all he had to do was to tell the truth about how he had been coerced. When he had been confronted in the infirmary, he had met a pony who could detect dishonesty. He would be a fool to think that the princess he was about to meet did not have similar abilities. He would have to use the truth as his weapon. His Slytherin upbringing would have had him throw Carrot, Cheerilee, and Berry to the wolves, but such a move would benefit no one. Besides, he would not let any blame fall on these mares. He was sure he could argue his way into an annulment. Perhaps the three could be persuaded to share a night of festivities before he made his way back to Britain.

When they set hoof in town hall, a pair of armored thestrals ushered them directly to the mayor's office. Inside, an old gray mare waited along with a large, midnight blue winged unicorn. The aura of authority that the latter projected was so powerful that Barnaby knelt reflexively. The mayor took a sharp sniff of the air and face hoofed as what Barnaby assumed was the princess merely raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Cheerilee! How could you!” the mayor moaned, not looking up.

“He was . . .” Cheerilee shuffled her hooves guiltily. “. . . aggressive.”

“Indeed,” the princess said. “An already vexing conundrum has been made more complex and at the same time resolved.”

“P-p-princess Luna,” Carrot Top stuttered and stared at the ground. “We know we shouldn’t have; Barnaby Lee was just so assertive.”

“That remains to be seen.” Princess Luna commanded, “Look us in the eyes.”

“Yes, your Highness.” Carrot Top tore her gaze from the ground to obey.

Princess Luna narrowed her eyes and said. “LEGILIMENS.”

Barnaby gasped before jumping forward and bumping Carrot Top out of the way, breaking eye contact.

Princess Luna blinked before saying. “Interesting. Truly, a most impressive asset.”

“Using legilimency against someone without their permission is against the law,” Barnaby snarled.

“Perhaps in thy homeland,” Princess Luna said. “Here, we are the law. However, we are content that these mares have done no wrong. Coercion was not exercised in order to get thee to perform.”

The mayor let out a loud sigh of relief. “Shall I prepare the paperwork to void the contract? If they want to pursue a relationship afterwards, that will be their own business.”

“Thou dost misunderstand,” Princess Luna said. “We did not come here today to dissolve thy commitment. If it were a simple matter of a pony stallion entered into such a bond, then thy resolution would suffice. However, this onus was imposed under the laws of a friendly government."

Luna glared at the stallion, measuring his mettle. "Do not think, Barnaby Lee, that we are ignorant of how thou have come to thy current situation. Our morning has been spent in audience with thy minister. He has made it abundantly clear that this arrangement is not distasteful and is in fact a principled application of legal rights.”

Barnaby gulped as he sensed his freedom slipping away. 

“This contract would have been an atrocity had it been suffered upon a pony stallion and fails when applied solely against our laws. Against a human stallion, such as thyself, it is considered a lenient forfeiture in light of thy conduct,” Princess Luna continued. 

“How can you say that?” Cheerilee gasped. “Barnaby Lee said that he had no choice in the matter.”

“Why are you arguing with her?” Carrot Top shrieked before catching herself.

“Though it grates against our morality, we cannot void thy contract in light of the humans pledging to honor our own laws concerning herds. That thou hast chosen to advance thy relationship despite being under the impression that thy contract would be voided is a salve to our conscience,” Princess Luna said. “We are aware that males are the aggressive gender of thine species." 

Barnaby had the decency to look guilty as Luna continued. "What is considered lawful in your land still does not sit well with our own preferences of how stallions should be treated. However, in light of how dubious thy kind finds the practice of having at least two mares for every stallion, concessions must be made. It is a ludicrous irony that the greatest point of contention between our two governments is founded in our unwillingness to take unfair advantage of each other.”

“Human stallions are more aggressive than their mares?” Carrot Top perked up, latching onto that part of Princess Luna’s dialogue.

“No surprise there.” Berry Punch commented.

“Wait?” Mayor Mare said waving for the two to be silent. “Are you saying that this contract is legal?”

Princess Luna took a deep breath “It is legal in the lands of the humans as herd agreements are legal in our own lands. The question has always been to what extent we recognize each other’s laws. Thus, the game of trade-offs begins. Humans may not use magics compelling loyalty to their family lines. In return, herds might have an alpha stallion in lieu of an alpha mare. Also, human stallions must take at least two pony mares if a herd is to be formed; in return, that same stallion has license to include one human mare of choice regardless of how the rest of the herd may vote."

Mayor Mare frowned. "There is just so much that can go wrong with this."

Luna quirked an eyebrow. "Edges are rough, and mistakes shall be made, yet a working framework has been agreed upon. Even so, it has already been negotiated that all concessions shall not be universally applied, where felonies have been committed. Barnaby Lee’s contract is already an illustration of the surrendering of certain key privileges. The stallion shall not have his override vote nor the position of alpha stallion. Likewise, there are criminals, already accepted into human society, whom we shall not sue to have the protections against loyalty magics.”

“That sounds so convoluted.” Cheerilee sighed.

“That is politics.” Princess Luna replied.

“It does raise another dilemma.” Mayor Mare said. “We already have an ex-human stallion in town who has one mare to whom he is married. So far, they have rebuffed all efforts to expand their herd. Does this mean they must accept two local mares? And if so, what is the time frame?”

“The stallion thou dost reference was brought into Equestria by Discord prior to any diplomatic engagements.” Princess Luna sighed and closed her eyes for a second. “Thou may inform him that failure to comply with current laws constitutes a violation of the conditions of his parole. The timing of his arrival is irrelevant. All must honor the letter of the law, if not its intent, lest they face the consequences.”

“Yes Princess,” the Mayor said, slipping the paperwork that was in front of her to the side. “Is there anything else that needs to be said here?”

Cheerilee interjected, "Wait! My herd has not signed the contract. Does that not set Barnaby free?"

Luna replied, "His transgressions against an Equestrian herd merit a far more severe penalty." Glaring again at the stallion, she continued, "According to the human minister, human's magics recognize intimacy with mares as legally forging the bonds of matrimony. By his own actions, he has rendered this conversation moot."





Rosie's screams had stopped many miles ago as strong winds tossed her like a runaway kite. While an adult pegasus would have shrugged off the wind, it was far too much for her tiny form to conquer. There had to be some way to escape. Abruptly, the filly snapped her wings shut, removing all lift. She plunged like a football toward the blanket of white. The tip of a mighty pine snapped at the impact, stealing a bit of speed from its assailant. An upper branch met a similar fate. A tunnel of destruction marked her path until she bounced off a lower bough and then smacked against the trunk of an adjacent tree. She slid down the trunk into the snow, finally stopping her journey.

Dazed and disoriented, Rosie ignored the faint cries of her brother until her head stopped spinning. Shakily, she dug herself out of the snow. Shaking her head, she scanned her surroundings. She was greeted by pines and barren trees in snow-covered ground. Gray skies hid the sun. 


“Dean!” she wailed as fear came unbidden.

“It talks.” A man’s voice came from behind her. With an eep, Rosie spun around and saw three strange people. The first was the man she had heard; another was a woman and the third was a girl roughly her own age. Rosie blinked and looked again. The torsos were human, but they had the bodies of horses.

“Hello,” Rosie said nervously. “Can you tell me which way is back to town?”

The man came forward as the other two stayed back. “You are a child?”

“I am five,” Rosie said proudly.

“That does not answer my question,” the man said. “My guess would be that you are a child, but I have never encountered your kind before. You sound much too young to be roaming these woods by yourself.”

“The wind blew too hard.” Rosie took a step back from the towering form. “My brother is eleven, though, and my parents are old.”

“She is a child,” the woman said, stepping forward with the girl at her side. “A lost child it would seem.”

The man stared at Rosie before snorting. “I find her presence disturbing. I can barely see her, and what little that is visible shows she is adrift from her destiny.”

“That is probably just the nature of her kind,” the woman said. “She does not appear powerful enough to cheat fate.”

“My name is Rosie,” the small pegasus said, annoyed at being talked over. 

“My name is Licenta,” the girl with them said, taking a few steps ahead of the woman.

“Careful, we don’t know if she is dangerous,” the woman said using one of her forehooves to drag the girl back a few steps.

“She is most likely poisonous,” the man said, eyeing Rosie’s bright colors.

“I’m not dangerous.” Rosie pouted. “I’m a good girl, just rambunctious. Would you like to be friends?”

“Yes!” Licenta called out from behind the woman’s leg.

The woman looked back and forth between Licenta and Rosie. “Undeniably a child. It would be best if we returned her to the human village.”

“There is a storm coming,” the man stated flatly.

“She is a child,” the woman repeated. “If you cannot be bothered, then take Licenta back to the encampment, and I will escort her myself.”

“I will not allow you to approach the humans so closely,” the man said. “Take charge of our daughter, and I will see this one safely returned to the humans.”

“Rosie!” Dean called, dropping from the path of destruction to land beside his sister. “Are you all right?”

“Dean!” Rosie said cheerfully. “I made new friends!”

Dean examined the three people. “Looks like it’s true that there are centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. Hello.”

“I can scarcely see him at all,” the man said, examining Dean.

"Huh?" said Dean. "If my coat were any brighter, I'd be glowing in the dark."

“Now you’re just being rude, Breon.” the woman said. “Hello, little ones.”

“Hi!” Rosie chirped as Dean waved a hoof.

“The wind is picking up,” the woman said. “So, let us not waste time; you need to be in one place and we need to be in another. Follow me back to the humans.”

“I said I would take them,” Breon said.

“I want to go too,” Licenta added. “Rosie is my new friend.”

“You are going directly back to the encampment,” the man said. “The coming storm is going to be harsh enough as it stands.”

“Rosie! Dean!” Lyra yelled as she came into view, more bounding through the snow than galloping. “Thank Celestia my tracking spell worked! Don’t scare me like that!”

The man had notched an arrow in a bow that Rosie hadn’t noticed he was carrying, but he did not draw. “Another approaches. I cannot see this one at all. They are creatures of chaos.”

“Stay your hand,” the woman said. “They cannot help their nature, and they do not appear to be hostile. Besides, if you look closely, she wears her destiny on her flank.”

“She is still adrift from the weave,” the man said. “They are strange and dangerous creatures.”

“She looks as if she is kin to the unicorns. Give her that much respect unless she gives you reason to do otherwise,” the woman said.

“Oh wow!” Lyra said as she came up on the group. “Real life centaurs! Hello there! Do you live in these woods? My name is Lyra. I'm so pleased to meet you.”

“Another child?” The man said, looking down at Lyra.

“Hey!” Lyra pouted. “I’m an adult.”

“Good,” the woman said. “We are pleased to see you have collected your children.”

“Thank you for keeping an eye on them for me,” Lyra said. “We are going to head to a party soon; would you like to join us?”

“No, a storm is coming and we must hunker down,” the man said. “We will take our leave of you now.”

“Okay,” Lyra said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Safe travels,” the woman said, turning to depart. 

“Bye Licenta,” Rosie called out.

“Bye Rosie!” the little centaur called back sadly.





The seriousness of the impromptu meeting was underscored by the seniority of the attendees who had been dragged in. As they took their seats, the top-ranked members of MI5 could not help but notice how distracted the director seemed. Whatever had prompted this meeting had to be a doozy.

When the last invitee shut the door, the director placed his head on the palms of his hands and said, “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to tell you what took place this morning. Then you are going to start the paperwork that temporarily removes me from power until my mental stability has been evaluated. But in the meantime, you are all going to investigate the existence of our hidden society of magic users.”

A murmur swelled through the collection of agents as several decided that starting the mentioned paperwork was a good idea.

“Oh, you’ve found out about the wizards and witches again,” one of the group said. “I was afraid something alarming prompted this meeting.”

Silence swept the table as everyone turned to gawk at the speaker.

“What do you mean 'again'?” the director asked after a few seconds.

“Roughly every three months or so you grab three or four of us and closet us away in that room with the large portrait of a woman with a green dress. Then there are varying levels of evidence pointing towards the existence of magic users, plans are made, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Then, before anything can be implemented, they show up, wipe memories, and it’s back to business as usual.” The man had a bored tone as he explained. “I’ve called you every name in the book and you haven’t remembered a thing when they’re done.”

“How is it that you retain your memories?” the director demanded.

“Sir, you’ve ordered me to be the liaison. I’m what they call a squib. You want some level of coordination when their interests overlap ours. It’s my job to keep track of them, and those members of the system that are aware of the existence of magic. The other thing they regularly modify is when you approach me and demand to know what I’m doing with all of my time. You must have asked for my resignation at least fifteen times because you thought I was a deadbeat, when the truth of the matter is that it’s all I can do to keep up with the workload.”

“And you’ve done nothing to ensure that our memories are kept intact? Where do your loyalties lie?” one of the men at the table demanded.

“My loyalties are to queen and country. However, I was required to take a magical oath that is binding in ways I can’t begin to explain. I cannot initiate communication of any kind on this subject with those not in the know. Hinting that you do anything about it is almost beyond me as well.”

“Wilson, Hartton, go to ground,” the director snapped. Two men abandoned their paperwork at the table and rushed from the room. The squib looked pointedly at the papers they had left behind but said nothing. Without a word, another man added their papers to his own.

Once the door was closed again, the director asked. “Has there ever been a discussion about interdimensional spiders or ponies before?”

“No sir, that’s new,” the squib replied. Unnoticed by everyone present, a man returned to his painting, partially hidden behind a large potted plant.

“I cannot begin to emphasize just how much of a breach of security this is if true,” the director continued. A loud bang interrupted whatever it was he was about to say.

“Good afternoon gentlemen,” a woman wearing robes said as she waved her wand, locking all the doors to the room. “I see you have just about everyone here today.”

“Good afternoon, Sally,” the squib answered as everyone else in the room gaped at the witch who had just appeared out of nowhere. “How are the kids?”

“Good, good,” she replied. “My oldest started Hogwarts this term. Followed me into Ravenclaw, he did.” She then directed her attention to the most senior person in the room. “Mr. director, how’s your heart? I had to do some repairs last time, and I hope my work didn’t go to waste.”

The director sighed. “I haven’t had any difficulties with it that I know of.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” Sally smiled before frowning at one of the empty seats. “Please tell me you didn’t choose Hartton to go to ground, he always hides in the sewers.”





A flash of flames on a rooftop announced the arrival of Sweetie Belle and Philomena. The young girl quickly looked around before spotting her quarry. With a smile she trotted over to stand next to her friends who were peering over the ledge at the street below. 

“Hey girls, what’s up?” Sweetie asked.

“Hiya Sweetie.” Abagail said, not looking up. "I came across a spell I want to try out."

"Why are you up here?" asked Sweetie.

“Hello, Sweetie.” Luna said. “Mrs. Bates insisted that we not mess up their flat, again. This seemed to be the best place to be if things blow up in our faces and the goblins have anti-trace wards on the entire building.”

Curious, Sweetie Belle watched as Abagail waved her wand and recited incantations with her eyes closed. The intrepid experimenter opened her eyes and asked, "Where is it? Where's the cocoa?"

The wail of a horn drew the girls to the ledge. Looking down at the street, they followed the sound to a speeding milk tanker lorry driving headlong toward an unattended pram. Brakes screamed as the cab jerked toward the left. The trailer slipped on a patch of ice and slid into oncoming traffic, breaking open against the back of a panel van that it knocked over. Milk leaked from the tank as the remains of the van bled chocolate syrup. A bicycle delivery person skidded short of the collision, throwing their load of marshmallows into the mess. The van's driver screamed in terror as he fled. Seconds later, the cab was engulfed by a fireball from the leaking petrol.

Sternly, Hermione glared at Abagail. "From now on, you're not allowed to make hot cocoa."
> Chapter 73: Skewed Conformity
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

If ever there were a sound that embodied determination, it would be the sound of strides taken in lockstep toward a common goal. The pony version, however, screamed that nothing in this world or the next could keep the ponies from their objective. The ground itself quaked at the show of unity presented by the Ponyville garrison as the almost imperceptible jangle of hastily-donned armor underscored that something serious was ahoof. They approached in standard battle formation, with earth ponies surrounding their unicorn partners while the pegasi provided top cover. Bystanders stopped to watch, amazed, as the garrison came to parade rest in front of the tree that housed the local library.

The show of force did not go unnoticed within. The top portion of the dutch door swung open before the troops were within five body lengths of their objective. Rarity poked her head out to assess the commotion. Upon spotting the guards, she exclaimed, "Oh my, Lieutenant Mocking Jay. What ever is the emergency?"

Turning her gaze skyward, she addressed the lead pegasus. "Please make haste to Sweet Apple Acres; I'm certain that Applejack, Twilight, and Rainbow Dash will be needed for whatever prompted this response." She concentrated for a moment before continuing. "Pinkie is at Sugarcube Corner, and Fluttershy should be in her cottage."

In a perfect rendition of the fashionista's voice, the lieutenant replied, "That won't be necessary, darling. Everypony we need is already present."

“Really?” Rarity asked skeptically. “It appears that you have brought enough support to wrestle a hydra. Are you sure that my friends and I are not needed to quell this ruckus?”

Mocking Jay gestured toward an armored mare whom Rarity recognized as the one who had fled the library earlier. "There is no need to discommode yourself. The good private has confirmed that the human, Petunia Dursley, is on these premises, and we simply must insist that she accompany us for an audience with the princesses in a most expedient fashion. Besides, no hydra has poked even a head up in our patrol zone of late for reasons unknown.

Rarity blinked. “Surely this can wait until she has recovered from her injury. The poor dear is not to speak for the remainder of the day.”

“Oh, but we must insist,” Mocking Jay said firmly. “To put it mildly, our illustrious leader is not known for outbursts of anger. After factoring in the reactions of the other two princesses, the colonel has issued priority orders to have any humans of interest brought before the princesses immediately, if not sooner. I do hope you appreciate my position.”

Bon Bon, still in human form, spoke up from behind Rarity. “There was a misunderstanding that has since been corrected. I’m sure those orders no longer apply to Petunia Dursley.”

Mocking Jay shifted her focus and with voice and accent matching Bon Bon’s said, “We have our orders. Any resistance to apprehension, any danger posed to ponies, is to be terminated with prejudice. I respect both of your opinions but my hooves are tied. I’m just happy that everything seems to be civil and hostilities don’t seem to be needed.”

Petunia came to stand beside Bon Bon, with a pink, lightly-glowing forehead. She pursed her lips and shot a glance towards the kitchen where Spike and Dudley were still snacking on sticky love honey.

“Don’t worry,” Bon Bon said, answering the unasked question. “This will be easy to clear up. I’ll keep an eye on your son while you’re gone.”

“I suppose there is no helping the situation.” Rarity sighed. “Let me just get Hedwig and she can carry us directly to Princess Celestia.”

“I am afraid that will not be possible.” Mocking Jay switched her accent and voice back to match Rarity’s. “Security dictates that we travel by pegasus carriage with a full complement. It may be slower, but it allows us to fend off any threats.”

Rarity sighed again. “Very well. Let’s get this over with.”

“Your cooperation is appreciated.” Mocking Jay nodded politely before changing her accent and voice yet again. “All right, bring tha flying deathtrap right 'round here. I want us in the air quicker than Pinkie Pie kin inhale a double chocolate and plum cupcake.”

Bon Bon was still watching the sky chariot disappear into the distance when Spike came from the kitchen with a pink-covered cracker. “What was that all about?”

“The guards just arrested Dudley’s mother and are taking her to see Princess Celestia,” Bon Bon said, not taking her eyes off the receding airborne procession, glad that the landbound members had returned to the garrison.

“Oh.” Spike took a bite from his cracker. “Let me guess, the guards haven’t gotten updated orders regarding anypony named 'Dursley'.”

“That’s it in a nutshell.” Bon Bon nodded.

“You do realize I could have sent a letter to the princess and she would have returned something to make this whole trip unnecessary.” Spike said, still chewing on his snack.

Bon Bon’s hand found her face with an audible smack. To her relief, hands proved to be much softer than hooves.





The tableau in the Victorian-themed family room looked like an encounter between mirror universe counterparts as two seemingly identical girls studied the cards in their hands. The eruption of flames was a minor distraction as the girls sorted their cards.

“Hey girls, what’s up?” Parvati asked, critiquing the hand she had assembled.

“Pinkie Pie Party Time!” Abigail declared, hopping in place excitedly.

“That’s brilliant,” Parvati said, putting down her cards. “Mind if Padma comes, too? I promised to spend the day with her.”

“Of course, she can come,” Hermione answered. “She is your sister; you need to spend time with her.”

“The more the merrier,” Sweetie agreed. “And you made a good point, we should include others from outside the herd. Draco, of course. That girl who Daphne always hangs out with, Tracy. Mmmm, probably not Hanna or Susan since Clouded is in Canterlot spending time with her family.”

“We shouldn’t go overboard,” Parvati cautioned. “It wouldn’t be fair to drop too many party crashers on Pinkie.”

“This is Pinkie Pie we're talking about.” Sweetie shook her head. “The entire town basically has open invitations to her parties, and out-of-towners are always encouraged.”

“I still think we shouldn’t overdo it,” Hermione countered. “At least not without asking first.”

“Um,” Padma interjected. “I’d love it if you invited Sue Li and Mandy. Being the only one in Ravenclaw who can pony up gets to be overwhelming at times.”

“Fair enough,” Sweetie said. “Gather 'round and Philomena will take us to get them.”

“Just a sec,” Parvati said, getting up and going to an archway that lead to the rest of the house. “Mother! Padma and I are going to a party! We’ll be back later!”

“Human or pony party?” came an answering shout.

“Pony!”

“Okay! Just remember to tell your friends that tomorrow and the day after are family time and they are not to come over.”

“Yes, Mum.”





Sugarcube Corner was well on its way to being transformed into a party venue. A clearly worried earth pony trotted up to the pink party pony setting up the beverage table.

“Pinkie,” Mr. Cake said firmly. “We know that parties are your thing and we are always happy to host them, but I want to make it abundantly clear. Firewhisky is never to be served in the bakery.”

“Okie dokie, Mr. Cake,” Pinkie said before slipping the shipping crate back into her mane.





At Sweet Apple Acres, shards of glass twinkled in the light as they danced within a lavender aura. Neighbor found neighbor as they arranged themselves back into their proper positions. They moved back into their frame and fused together, once again becoming a crystal-clear picture window.

“Thanks fer coming over to fix that,” Applejack said gratefully. “Normally, I’d be jus' fine with doing it the old-fashioned way, but with it being winter an all, the quicker the better.”

“Always glad to help,” Twilight said happily. “Besides, apparently, this is safer than picking flowers.”

“I just have to say,” Rainbow said defensively. “Despite the danger, those tulips taste pretty darned good.”

“I’ll jus’ take yer word fer it,” Applejack said. “Although Ah have to admit, the foals were mighty quick with that spell that freed us.”

“They took entirely too much pleasure from that,” Twilight said, studying her handiwork. “But it was enlightening seeing them perform magic.”

“Kinda drives it home that they are going ta school ta learn fancy stick waving,” Applejack agreed.

“So,” Twilight said, staring through the nigh-invisible glass, “you're telling me that the foals fly around on those brooms?” She gestured at the cleaning implements leaned in a corner of the room.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash both looked in the direction Twilight was pointing, shared looks with each other, then returned their gazes to the brooms.





Barnaby all but staggered as he followed the three mares through the town. The consequences of his actions weighed heavily on his mind. Who would have guessed that his earlier fun was as ill-advised as accepting lunch with the fae of legends? Not only was he not getting out of his marriage contract, he was also now attached to not just one, but three older women.

“Question,” Berry Punch said into the silence, ignoring the envious glares of the mares they passed. “Since when have we been a herd?”

“Obviously since some time this morning,” Carrot Top said, a joyful hop in her steps.

“It’s just that I started the day as a hopelessly single mare raising her daughter by herself,” Berry griped. “This is all happening way too quickly.”

“Wait,” Barnaby said. “Are you saying that I’m a stepfather on top of everything else?”

The three mares all stopped as well and shared worried looks. “Don’t fret,” Cheerilee said, dread evident in her voice. “We’ll keep Berryshine out of your way.”

“Why?” Barnaby asked.

The mares shared another look. “Um, stallions take a dim view of foals from other stallions in their herd.” Carrot Top ventured cautiously. “We’ll keep her away from you so you won’t feel threatened.”

Barnaby couldn’t help smirking. Finally, he had some leverage, and he intended to take full advantage. He wouldn't have to pretend to be friendly with the yet unmet brat, and he could hold it over the heads of the so-called herdmates to shape the relationship into something more to his liking. “You needn’t bother. Remember, I am human.”

“What exactly does that mean in this case?” Cheerilee asked.

Barnaby shrugged. “That Berry’s daughter is now family.”

“You’re not going to try and hurt her?” Carrot Top asked skeptically.

“No, why would you even think that?”

“You did try to harm a herd of foals,” Berry stated, unconvinced.

“I was targeting one who had harmed my family,” Barnaby said smoothly.

The three mares watched him suspiciously.

Barnaby made a show of sighing. “It won’t do for my family to think I might commit violence against them. This is not how I want our relationship to start. Tell you what. Let’s find someone with a transformation ring. I can change back and then make a magical oath not to intentionally harm any of the four of you.”

“Intentionally?” Cheerilee had noticed the stipulation.

“A common clause in oaths.” Barnaby shrugged again. “Lest people lose their lives and magic in the heat of the moment when tempers flare and unkind words follow or, Merlin forbid, an accident happens.”

“We need to show that we trust you, so an oath ensuring your loyalty to us three would be immoral,” Berry said. “But I admit I would be reassured if you made one concerning Berryshine.”

“My aunt has always said that relationships were an art of give and take,” Barnaby said. “It is important that certain ground rules are set for any marriage. I think it would be in my best interest to allay any concerns that I might harm my stepdaughter.”

The three mares stared at him with their mouths hanging open.

“Is there something the matter with that?” Barnaby asked, afraid that he had overplayed his hand.

Carrot Top looked around warily as if expecting a timberwolf to jump out of an alleyway. “With the way things just keep going our way today, getting better and better, I can’t help thinking something really bad is just waiting to happen. A stallion willing to take a binding oath not to hurt one of our foals from a previous relationship is a dream I would have never thought possible this morning.”

“Don’t jinx us.” Cheerilee warned.

“One thing is for sure,” Berry said. “If this is the way human stallions think, every mare is going to want one. That’s not even counting how affectionate ours is.”





Myrtle Warren had not realized how much she had been frozen in time. While her stint as a ghost had allowed her to keep current with wizarding trends, she had only seen the merest hint of what was happening in the muggle world. Now that she was able to experience it for herself, the changes had hit her with the subtlety of a double-decker bus. The culture shock of discovering the wizarding world was nothing compared to that from a forty-plus year jump. 

If asked to identify the largest changes, Myrtle would have no choice but to say "everything". The austerity of wartime had given way to prosperity. Drab fashions had been overrun by a riot of colors and styles. Women in slacks had been almost scandalous when she had left the living world. Now, dresses were the novelty. The rare automobile that had been hobbled by petrol rationing had multiplied like rabbits, with modest models within reach for most. The telly that had been the toy of the rich was now masses' window to the world. Social expectations had morphed to where she would have no problem being taken seriously as a woman.

The glimpses of the world that generations of muggleborns had imparted should have left her better-prepared for the changes, but she had never imagined that such information would be of any use. She was still trying to get used to the idea of having a body again. Clothing felt so restraining, especially the new muggle undergarments. She'd have laid even money that even Houdini would have been confounded by that curse of a training bra that her niece insisted that she wear. The dungarees from San Francisco that had been forced on her made her feel more like a sailor than a proper witch.

Still, there were wonders to behold. Myrtle's first night home for winter break had been a veritable treasure hunt as she rummaged through her sister's pantry, cataloging, sorting and rotating the cornucopia of shelf stable products. Her mother and sister sat at the kitchen table, making conversation and laughing at her exclamations of surprise. There was no doubt that Myrtle had found true love with the rotund chef whose face graced the tins of ravioli. The younger Myrtle had started taking bets on how many tins her namesake would be cramming into her trunk for the return to Hogwarts.

The real treasure, however, was family. After over forty years of physical isolation, a familiar touch was worth its weight in gold. Her mother hovered about constantly, touching, hugging, kissing, and doing everything possible to assure herself that Myrtle was truly there in the flesh, living, breathing, and solid. Her grandniece Amy was just as attentive, following Myrtle like an infatuated puppy. Given the amount of time that Amy spent as a small green pegasus, a casual visitor might mistake her for a faithful pet. Myrtle feared that the behavior was a statute of secrecy infraction just waiting to happen.

The little pony was with her as Myrtle continued to explore the house, eventually finding her mother’s small office.

“What’s with the telly and broken typewriter?” Myrtle asked, examining the oddity.

“That’s Granny’s computer,” Amy replied cheerfully, from the ceiling. “Here, let me show you how it works.”

Yes, the world had really changed.





The scream ripped from the throat of a stoic mare crescendoed. Abruptly, a collision with a luckless, leafless apple tree cut it short as the impact dislodged the snow from the tree's slumbering limbs.

“AJ! Are you okay?” Twilight called out as she tried to extricate herself from a deep snowbank where she found herself half-buried head-first.

“Ah ain’t hurt too badly, sugarcube,” Applejack called back. “But this here ornery overgrown stick is starting ta ruffle mah mane.”

“I don’t see why you two are having so much trouble,” Rainbow Dash said from where she hovered above the trees on a borrowed broom. “These things are tame and kinda disappointing. I’ve tried going all out, and they are way too slow.”

“I think the ‘fastest pegasus in Equestria’ may have some unreasonable standards,” Twilight griped. “I’m positive you surpassed the one hundred and twelve kilometers per hour the humans are so fond of.”

“Eh, you’re not going to manage a sonic rainboom with one of these.” Rainbow shrugged. “But I guess they’ll do in a pinch.”

“Now, y'all are jus’ being cocky,” Applejack said before kicking off from the ground for another attempt. She immediately started flipping forward, going head over tail and looking like a drunk pinwheel before crashing into the snowbank within reach of Twilight.

Rainbow started laughing so hard that she fell off her broom.





Mayor Mare sat behind her desk and addressed the mare standing on the other side. “I have to admit that I’m finding your reaction to the news to be selfish in the extreme.”

The unicorn mare gritted her teeth before replying diplomatically, “That’s because you were born a pony. For a human, what you are demanding is illegal and immoral. This is taking the old adage ‘when in Rome’ to an absurd level. I can’t realistically complain, though. You are sheltering my husband from some very serious wrongdoings, but, at the same time, I can’t force myself to like it.”

“You’ll have to excuse me for lacking empathy here,” the mayor returned. “There are mares who never know the embrace of a stallion. Monopolizing one for yourself is self-centered and reprehensible.”

Tears slowly leaked from the mare’s eyes. “I understand why you would think that way. I can find no fault with your requirements of parole. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I’ve given up so much for Fenton, and now, what you want is yet another sacrifice I must endure.”

“I fail to see how taking at least two loving mares into your herd is a sacrifice. You are reminiscent of a filly refusing to share her candy.” The Mayor started firmly before letting some softness enter her voice. “Love is not a finite thing. I'm sure your heart has room for two loving mares.”

“I don’t think either of us can fully comprehend the other’s position,” the mare stated sadly. “As I said, Fenton and I shall comply. We just have to accept that the loss of our hands isn’t the only change that comes with our new bodies. You have our gratitude for accepting us into your society. You have our gratitude for saving our family. That cannot be overstated.”

“I do wish you weren’t finding this so unpleasant.” The mayor relented. “I suppose there is nothing else to say on the matter.” She was rescued from the awkwardness by a knock on her office door.

“Mayor Mare,” her aide said, sticking his head in the room soon after, “I wanted to let you know that Dainty Lace and her herd are here to add their colt to their herd agreement. With all the commotion we’ve been having over human stallions in herds I thought you might like to be made aware.”

“No surprise there,” the mayor returned. “Send them in; we are done here and I need to inform them that any intimacy will result in the human’s ministry recognizing them as being legally married.”

“What!” A colt’s voice came from behind the aide. “My mum is going to kill me.”

The mayor sighed.





Rainbow Dash was still laughing while she and Twilight teamed up to pry Applejack loose from the tree branches where the earth pony had lodged herself.

“If’n y'all keep it up with all that yukking, Ah’m gonna go fetch a couple tulips and sic 'em on ya.”

Rainbow laughed harder.

“Girls,” Twilight admonished.

“I can’t help it.” Rainbow smirked. “I’ve never seen a backwards Fleetwing special with side drift before.”

Twilight sighed again. “You know, I can’t help thinking we’re forgetting something.”





In the ostentatious office of Canterlot’s top fiduciary, the mare fought to maintain a professional facade. She could ill afford to be distracted by the rustic charm of her client. The portfolio he presented was worth more than all of Griffinstone, and she was determined to make the most of it.

“Considering the magnitude of funds and properties in question, I think it’s only appropriate that we designate at least two ponies to exclusively manage this account.”

“Eeeeyup.”





What should have been a joyful occasion was dampened when a human colt approached the accumulated foals already present at the party.

“Harry, is that you?”

“Dudley.”

“You’ve got wings.”

“Yes, I do.”

An uncomfortable silence followed while the human colt wondered which filly was radiating more menace, the yellow one with a bow or the lavender one.

“Dad and Mum had a long talk with me last night.” 

“Oh?”

“They say I’m not to call you a freak anymore.”

“That’s good.”

“They say I have to apologize to you, freaky or not.”

“You're doing a ruddy poor job of it,” the dayglow orange filly noted.

The human colt paused to gratefully pick up the sad eyed unicorn filly who had come over to comfort him. “They say it’s not your fault that everything has gone to pot.”

The foals listened to the sounds of silence as they waited.

“The doctor said I didn’t have any spells on me and that I was just a brat.”

More waiting.

“Mum didn’t say anything. It might have just been her throat being burned and all, but before, she always got mad when someone said that. This time, she just looked sad.”

“What do you want, Dudley?” Harry’s voice was still guarded.

“Before, Mum and Dad were always so proud of me. Now they aren’t. I’d rather they just hit me instead.” He buried his face in the fur of the unicorn filly he was holding. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I want anymore." He sighed. "Everything before was a lie. Dad says that all the toys I got before were a poor substitute for what was taken from me. They said I have no empathy, that I never stopped to consider how I treated you or made you feel.”

“You hurt me. You hurt me badly.”

“I know . . . I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

“. . . I’m sorry,” the human colt said before retreating to the furthest corner, where he sank down to the floor. He began petting his friend, and let his tears flow freely.

He ignored all of the party food just out of his reach.





“Pinkie, stop!” Mrs. Cake said around her mouthful of pink tail fur.

“But he’s sad! I need to go cheer him up!”

“No, you can’t,” Mrs. Cake said. “He needs to be sad right now.”

“That’s wrong!” Pinkie protested. “He should be happy; it’s a party.”

“Pinkie,” Mrs. Cake said in an unusually serious tone. “Stop. As much as it may hurt, sometimes you have to let them grow on their own. This is one such time.”

“But. But.”

“Pinkie, no.” Mrs. Cake released her grip as the pink mare ceased her tugging. “Let him grow.”





A lone lime green earth pony colt watched the human boy sulk in the corner while lavishing attention on a lucky unicorn filly.

Draco didn’t know what to think. He understood wanting your parents to approve of you. He himself longed to hear those words of praise from his own father, words that would never come again.

The muggle was, ironically, in the same boat he was. The whole world had been turned upside down. His own mother had insisted that what he had been taught before was wrong. How could the fool not even acknowledge the superiority of his cousin? Yes, he was a half-blood, but that was head and shoulders above being muggle.

Wasn’t it?

When was the world going to right itself?





Mrs. Brown smiled indulgently as she watched her husband play the game their daughter and her friends had set up in the sitting room. It was obvious he was getting as excited about it as Lavender had been prior to leaving for a party. A wonder of muggle ingenuity, the console truly gave lie to all of the purebloods’ claims of overwhelming superiority. It was a welcome addition to the house, a nice way for her and her husband to spend an evening when the kids were away doing their own things.

Suddenly, Mr. Brown looked away from their entertainment. “Something is testing the wards,” he declared.

Mrs. Brown produced her wand; the building storm outside should keep anything even remotely dangerous in its lair. “Should we call in the aurors?” 

“I’m sure we can handle whatever it might be.” Mr. Brown said brandishing his own wand. “It didn’t feel like a wizard prodding our defenses, something more feral. Probably just a boggart looking for a new home.”

“Let it bang its head against the wards all it wants then.”

“I’ll just go out and scare it away.” Mr. Brown said displaying the ethos of his former house.

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“I won’t,” Mr. Brown said, heading for the door, casting a warming charm as he went. “I doubt I’ll need to do anything more than put on a fireworks display.”

“I don’t like this,” Mrs. Brown added, following after.

In short order they were just outside the wards searching for the disturbance.

“Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” Mr. Brown said.

“I still don’t like it.”

“Okay, let’s go back inside. If it happens again, we’ll call in the aurors and they can worry about it.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to get back to the game,” Mrs. Brown chided.

“You have my number,” Mr. Brown said turning back towards the house.

“Look out!” Mrs. Brown cried as the form of a giant wolf in mid leap materialized from the falling snow, illuminated by the dying rays of the sun. 

The witch and wizard both brought their wands to bear.

The snow muffled the twin thuds. 

Crimson rain mingled with the falling snow.
> Interlude 7: Dance of Fate
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a dusty storage room, somewhere in a respectable museum, sat a box. It contained a curious artifact, the purpose of which had never been divined. The fact that it was made of gold and gems had categorized it as art, albeit art that was atypical for the region and timeframe of its creation. Too valuable to dispose of and too abnormal to display, it sat in storage, seeing the light of day only when curious academics unearthed it to marvel at its uniqueness.

It glowed red, fulfilling a part of its purpose.

No one witnessed it siphon the energies from the monster it was built to imprison.

No one witnessed it prepare the next stage of the plan.

No one marveled at the forethought of their ancestors, preparing for every scenario they could imagine.

No one witnessed the counterattack, centuries in the making, build up to its release.

No one had tested the artifact, avoiding possibly triggering Armageddon.

No one had the forethought to anticipate what happened next.

No one had noticed the dislocation in what they thought was a flawless alexandrite sphere.

No one saw the energies expand the dislocation into a submicroscopic crack.

No one felt the rouge pulse of magic it released.

No one realized it wasn’t the first.

Six sisters took note.

(Pas de un)





The fat, white flakes that fluttered down left him practically deaf and blind. A more jarring effect was that they scrubbed the air, stealing every scent that might tell him what was approaching. Still, as much as they hid the world from him, they hid his retreat from the world.

The preceding months had been a cascading series of disasters. Perhaps it was simply one prolonged disaster. Regardless, the effect was the same. His pack was abandoning him. More than half had skulked away without warning or explanation.

There must be a new alpha somewhere, waiting to take him down. He would need to grow his pack, not just to counter the immediate threat, but also to propagate his legacy. His plan was already underway.

Things had not gone entirely as planned. He had merely intended to test the wards as only the parents had been present. His main prize, the little girl, hadn’t even been in the house. She was a strong bitch who was sure to produce healthy litters.

The sun had yet to give up the sky. Still, the change had come.

The storm had hidden the moon's glory. Still, the change had come.

The moon had clearly been waning, with only a sliver glowing. Still, the change had come.

The wolf had stood on four legs where the man had stood on two. Two minds shared one goal.

The two adults had foolishly left the protection of their wards. The blood that painted his muzzle bore mute testament to their error.

The night had not been a total loss. The bitch might be past her prime, but she would keep his nights warm. Besides, she still might bear a litter. As for the dog, it really didn't matter whether he lived or died. Still, the real prize lay out of reach.

The girl child was his real objective. She was rumored to be strong. She had yet to blossom into maturity. She was the perfect candidate.

The element of surprise was gone. She would be vigilant. It wouldn't matter; he would still take her. Now, however, he would have to be patient and pursue his secondary objective in the meantime. The bitch would have a short respite.

He looked skyward and mused. His pack would grow. He would be ready for any challengers. The snow had transformed his world into a mass of white. Why had the change come?

Clotho cried.

(Pas de loup)





The cage was much too small.

There was no room to turn around.

Foul magics reinforced the metals that held him.

They had put him here.

They had snatched up the child.

The child was his friend.

They had made her scream.

When he had come to help, they had been ready.

He had charged with his horn poised for a killing blow.

The blow had never landed.

They had caged him, instead.

They had let the child flee once he had been caged.

The pink monstrosity kept trying to touch him, a touch he would not suffer.

They had brought him far, far away from his child friend.

He was a prisoner.

He wasn’t the only one.

The large one had just returned.

He had returned with a firebird.

A circle of metal, centered on his chest, glowed as he commanded the bird to do his bidding.

The bird had danced around a circle marking the floor, bobbing its head as it went.

Then, the magic of the area grew heavier.

One of them removed the purple cloth it had wrapped around his head and a black smoke poured out.

The smoke, instead of dissipating, rolled into a position inside the circle.

Magic grew even heavier.

Suddenly, six beams of black light leapt from the smoke.

Five went north.

One went forty-two degrees inwards of north and towards yesterday.

The smoke seemed to grow denser.

Evil hung heavily in the air.

Then, the unknown magic came, homing in on the spell already in progress.

It was red.

It rippled through the magic already present.

It shattered the enchantments on his cage.

*Clang!*

It was now their turn to scream.

Dike delighted.

(Pas de cheval)





The phoenix regained his bearings abruptly.

The last thing he remembered was sitting on his perch in the office of his human.

Then, he had heard the song.

The song had been carried on the winds of magic.

Then . . . nothing.

Then, he was here.

There had been snow; now, there was none.

He was outside, and a summoning circle glowed on the ground.

A grotesquely large woman dressed in pink lay not far from him. A red, hoof-shaped welt marred her face.

Just beyond her, a human he recognized from the school huddled in a ball, clutching his stomach.

Most importantly, a huge man hung impaled on the horn of a great unicorn stallion.

The horn had gone through a medallion the man had been wearing, cleared his center of mass, and exited out the back.

There was no life in the man’s eyes.

The unicorn shook the man off its horn and turned deadly eyes upon the woman.

Something was forming in the circle.

Something was solidifying, something evil.

It was time to go!

He was too weak to do much of anything.

He could flee.

He could take the unicorn with him.

He had enough left in him for that.

With a burst of strength, he launched himself onto the back of the equine.

Before calling upon his innate magics, he heard a voice from the circle unknowingly echo the words of another.

“Why am I pink!”

*Fwoosh!*

Atropos agonized.

(Pas de deux)





As she pranced about her backyard, she knew they were pushing their luck. Still, a little excitement went a long way. Their daughter had called to let them know that she was going to a party. With the storm coming, this was the perfect time for a few laps around the yard.

This wasn't the first time they had engaged in the thrill. They had always waited until they knew their neighbors wouldn't be home. The storm was an extra layer of cover, hiding them from potential onlookers. Their fur would keep them warm.

They knew it was a stupid risk. They couldn't help themselves. They were on their third lap when she realized her husband's breath no longer warmed her neck. Curious, she reversed direction, coming back to him with a questioning look on her face. He gazed with unfocused eyes. An orange blossom hung from a tube stuck to his flank.

Panicked, she turned to retreat. She felt a sting on her flank. Looking back, she saw she now sported the same decoration as her husband. This was not good. She stumbled.

Lachesis lamented.

(Pas de valse)





The dosshouse was definitely not the appropriate place for the meeting, even though the hourly rate was still within per diem. It was almost unthinkable that they would be here at the request of a mere technician. However, the man had insisted that their normal meeting rooms had been compromised. The man had insisted that the highest levels of the organization had been compromised. The man had insisted that the director had wanted him to record a meeting that no one could remember happening.

They had scoffed. Still, they had come. They could recognize themselves in the recording. The technician had been right. They had an adversary who had the ability to infiltrate to the very heart of their organization and erase their memories.

That adversary had not known of the new measures the director had taken. The entire situation almost seemed to be a joke. No one was laughing.

One turned to another. “You have a safehouse in the sewers?”

“It’s an old bunker.”

“He put a lot of emphasis on the painting. That was an unusual way of denoting a room,” another commented.

“How do we know this is genuine?”

“My secretary remembers me mentioning going to a meeting at that time.”

“We have to assume the entire headquarters is compromised.”

“A threat assessment is going to be needed.”

“We need defenses.”

“We need to leave ourselves messages.”

“We are in uncharted waters here.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Believe later, make plans now.”

Eirene emoted.

(Pas de bourrée)





With the storm coming, the best place to be was in front of the telly, drinking a large mug of hot mulled wine.

Like so many others, that was exactly where he was. His wife snuggled against his side. They had been worried about their children until the letter had arrived by owl letting them know that they were with an adult and were going to a party and would be back later.

He was almost jealous that they were not going themselves, but the alone time would more than make up for it.

The telly wouldn’t be staying on long.

He was taking a sip as the anchor from the American cable news channel finished introducing himself.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have some world-shattering news this evening. In that vein, the first thing I would like is for each of you to check your calendars. Please note that the date is not April the first. What you are about to hear is absolutely true and is the culminative work of our friends in England. It is so shocking that I am hesitant to say what I’m about to say.

"In fact, you may want to be sitting down for this.

"Seriously, sit down.

"In the next hour you are going to witness the amassed evidence of a secret society living under our very noses. People, once persecuted have withdrawn from the eyes of the world taking secrets upon secrets with them.

"You see, I am here tonight to tell you that magic is real.

"That’s right, you didn’t hear me wrong.

"I’m not crazy, neither are you. This is really happening.

"Magic is real.

"Wizards, witches . . . they exist, as do dragons, werewolves, goblins, and funny little beings called house elves. They all exist, and these are only the creatures that we have verified. Without leaving our own planet, we have proof that we are not alone.

"I repeat, magic is real. It's been hidden for generations, but it exists. Those who practice it have done everything in their power to keep it secret, up to and including wiping the memories of anyone hapless enough to witness any instances of magic.

"I’ll give you a few seconds to let that sink in.

"Yes, you can check your calendar again; it still isn’t April first.

"Here’s the kicker. This news should be the biggest story of the day. Nothing should be able to top it. It is almost obscene that it ends up being second tier to our lead revelation.

"If you weren’t sitting down before, do so now.”

The anchor took a deep breath and stared directly at the camera.

“Aliens walk among us.”

He and his wife shared a worried glance before returning their attention to the telly, all thoughts of an evening alone fleeing.

Outside snow swirled completely obscuring vision after just a few feet.

The storm had arrived.

Eunoma erupted.

(Faux pas)





Chaos advanced.

Fate receded.
> Chapter 74: Languish, Larceny and Love
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As she sat, flanked by classmates, Sue Li morosely nibbled at cake and sipped punch both of which were far better than anything she'd ever received from a house elf. She sighed. If ever she had needed affirmation that she was not meant to be a Gryffindor, she now knew that she needn't look any further.

Things had started promisingly enough. Borne on the flames of Sweetie Belle's phoenix, Sue Li had arrived to find that Padma had brought her to the modest cottage where Mandy and Padma's Gryffindor friends were waiting. Sue and Mandy had been taken aback when they were approached by a mint green unicorn who asked whether they needed rings to change. After a bit of explanation, the girls had accepted the fulfillment of one of their fondest wishes.

Still, it had been unsettling when everyone else was betting on what their transfigured forms would be. Mandy had become something comparatively mundane, a robin's egg blue unicorn with a royal blue mane and tail. Sue Li's transformation, on the other hand, had left everyone baffled.

The girl, without a doubt, had become some sort of unicorn. What sort of unicorn she was, no one knew. Her mane resembled that of a lion, complete with the beard. Her tawny coat had mahogany scales covering the top of her body from the tip of her muzzle all the way back to the base of her tail. Her tail was also leonine, with the tuft running along the bottom for the full length. Her hooves were cloven like that of a goat.

Her new horn was beyond strange. It clearly wasn't the graceful spiral that Granger, Finnigan, and a few others sported. Tracy had said it looked like a wind-swept tree branch that someone had decided to decorate with a couple of chevrons at its base. The way it forked into two uneven tines had left Sue wondering whether she could channel magic with it.

Sue's mood continued to sour as she reflected on the jaunt from the cottage to the party. When they had passed the large tree that housed the town's library, Sue had attempted to continue the charming custom that her father had taught her for such occasions. She had scarcely managed three bars of the book appreciation song when she was silenced by a fusillade of snowballs. This had led to two discoveries. The first was that the town must be inhabited by bibliophobes. The second was that her newly-formed hooves offered no traction on ice.

Upon joining the party, she had found yet another cloud for her silver lining. Potter's cousin had made a subdued entrance in human form. The conflict between the two had reduced the boy to tears as he retreated to a corner of the room where he had petted a gray unicorn filly. Sue had hoped that Potter would forgive him soon; the fat boy had looked completely miserable.

Despite the fly in the ointment, Sue had found the rest of the party to be unexpectedly delightful, with something for every age group. Now that she was the size of her equine peers, she felt like she truly belonged. She had just started to enjoy the party fully when a satchel-wearing owl had materialized from an orthogonal dimension. It had circled the room once before homing in on Brown.

The party had come to a stop when the pouch rudely regurgitated an older boy whom Sue had not recognized. That was when the bottom had dropped out.

The boy had been a herald with dark tidings. Brown's parents had been attacked, and they had been taken to St. Mungo's. While the boy had said that Mrs. Brown was in stable condition, he had also reported that Mr. Brown was at death's door. That had brought the party to a screeching halt, even as the boy, the pink hostess, Lavender, Parvati, Sweetie, and Abigail had piled into the satchel.

The Ponyville natives had dispersed shortly after the owl had departed, leaving behind the Hogwarts students who now sat around a refreshment table. Talk had turned to wild speculation as to what might have befallen Lavender's parents. When Sue had turned to get Sweetie's opinion, the girl had made a startling discovery. Her ride home had left with the owl.





Soft hoofbeats reverberated through the vacant hallway in Canterlot General Hospital as Extra Dose trotted toward the exit at the end of an exhausting day. The resident had every intention of crawling directly into her soft bed as soon as she made it home. The standard twenty-four hour shift was a burden under the best of conditions. Serving as a guide for Dr. Splint and Healer Yates had instantly tripled her workload. The two had stuck their muzzles into every case, proposing treatment plans and comparing notes. Dose had readily recognized the benefits that the human's differing background had provided, and each side offered courses of treatment that the other had never imagined. Still, Dose had found the towering human more than a little intimidating, even more than the minotaurs. His prominent canines marked him as a predator who might appreciate having pony on the menu.

The crimson flare of flames barely registered on her fatigued mind. A soft hand on her muzzle caught her attention. She looked up at a little human with a red bird on her shoulder.

"Are you a doctor?" the child anxiously asked, shaking Extra Dose from her thoughts.

“Yes.”

“Come with me.”

*Foooom!*





The slumbering canopies in the orchards of Sweet Apple Acres would have sighed in relief if they could talk. Broken branches littered the ground over the snow that had been dislodged. The farm took on an orange tinge as the sun retired.

“It’s starting to get hard to see,” Twilight observed. “Maybe we should call it quits for the night. I’m sure Pinkie’s party is well underway.”

“Just one more try,” Applejack said, mounting her broom once again. “Ah can’t let Granny show me up so badly.”

“Why don’t you scold your broom like Granny did with the one she was riding?” Rainbow asked. “That worked for her.”

“I’m pretty sure she scarred that poor thing for life.” Twilight shuddered. “In some ways she’s scarier than Fluttershy.”

“Ahem!”

The three mares stopped their conversation to look over and wonder how the large red stallion had managed to sneak up on them.

“Oh my gosh!” Twilight exclaimed. “Big Mac, we forgot all about the meeting! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”





The surgery in the Animal Health and Welfare Centre was abuzz with excitement. Sally Pence could hardly believe all the surprises that had been uncovered. To be honest, it was actually just one surprise drawn out. One of the regulars had called in with another unicorn sighting. The old woman had claimed that her neighbors were keeping them as pets.

To curtail the mounting paperwork, the manager on duty had dispatched a team to humor the old biddy. He had hoped that would persuade her to stop calling. After all, there were no laws against owning unicorns.

The field team had decided to follow the frump as she rushed upstairs to a room where they could peer into her neighbors' back yard. She had claimed the animals were out exercising. To the team's surprise, there were two miniature horses enthusiastically trotting laps around the garden. Had they been normal horses, the case would have ended there. However, there was obviously something suspicious. No horse would naturally have a coat in such a bright shade of yellow or orange. No horse would naturally have what had to be a prosthetic protruding from its forehead.

The whinging woman had insisted that they take action. She had pointed out the passage in a book on horse care specifying the minimum exercise necessary to maintain a horse's health and noted that the unicorns rarely had a chance to stretch their legs. She had insisted that the government had to take custody of such unique animals. Although the team had no legal cause to intervene, they could not in good conscience leave what might be abuse victims without confirming their status.

The team had decided to take advantage of the coming snowstorm. They would claim that the animals had escaped and that they had been taken into custody for their welfare. A physical examination would both give them the proof that the equines were simply disguised pets and provide them with the ammunition needed to compel the owners to treat the animals properly.

Technically, removing the animals was already a felony, so tranquilizing the beasts first would hardly add to the offense. The operator had insisted that this had been the most expedient way to get them out of the yard. Besides, no jury in the world would convict them once they showed the sort of abuse the owners had inflicted.

A cursory examination had revealed no sign of makeup; no seams could be felt around the horn. More troubling, however, had been that the roots of the hairs were the same color as the rest of the coat. A look at the skin underneath had shown it to be a healthy pink.

A decision had been made to confront the owners, but they were nowhere to be found. It was inconceivable that the animals had simply been let out, unattended. However, the team had found the back door to be unlocked, and there was no pet door. Surely, the unicorns could not have opened the door by themselves.

The next decision had been to leave a notice on the door and bring the animals in for a thorough examination. They had already qualified for an extended stay at a Queen's Resort, so adding another charge would hardly make a difference. Besides, who could resist the chance to examine unicorns?

The surgery had been cleared for the examinations. The obvious first target had been the horns. To Sally's surprise, even in the warm room, she could not feel a seam. A magnifying glass had brought them no closer to discovering how the horns had been attached. The veterinarians had crowded around the x-rays as soon as they had been developed.

That’s when the bottom dropped out.

The bloody horns weren’t prosthetics. They were real!

Sally strongly suspected that some private, secret laboratory had developed gene manipulation on a level undisclosed to the general public, especially since an initial examination had shown the pair to be significantly different than other miniature horses. Their eyes were way too big; that was sure to cause complications. The absurd colors were natural, or unnatural, however you looked at it. The most striking aberration was the way their legs were jointed unlike anything imagined on an equine.

Whatever was going on, the department had just stepped in it.

The veterinarians had just extracted a blood sample from the female when the next oddity had occurred.

“Bark!”

Sally looked up. “Is that a snowy owl?” she asked no one in particular.

“It’s wearing a pouch,” her assistant, Bobby, observed.

“Is that a snowy owl wearing a pouch?” Sally corrected.

“Bark!”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

The owl seemed to take offense at those words. It flapped into the air and flew toward a wall only to disappear right before colliding with it.

“What the actual bloody f . . .” her other assistant, Bill, started to demand.

“Language!” Sally snapped. Then, after a pause, she mused, “I wonder if that had anything to do with the unicorns we have.”

“A strange owl wearing a pouch shows up to watch us examine a pair of undocumented unicorns, then proceeds to break several laws of physics,” Bill said. “I can’t see how those two things could possibly be related.”

“What’s going on?” Sally asked, turning her attention back to her patient lying on the operating table.

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Bobby offered.

“Would you like to make that a bet?” Bill asked.

Before anyone could say that the day couldn’t get any weirder, the door to the hallway opened and Marcy, another veterinarian, stuck her head into the room. “Guys!" she called out. "You’re not going to believe the news.”

“Let me guess,” Bill snarked. “They’re announcing that magic is real, so are dragons, elves and fairies.”

“Oh.” Marcy deflated. “You’ve already heard.”

“What?” Bobby sputtered. “He was just joking.”

“You can't believe that I would think for a minute that you pulled that out of the blue,” Marcy countered. “It’s all over the news; you probably had a radio going or something.”

“No, seriously,” Sally interjected. “They’re saying magic is real on the telly?”

“Yup.” Marcy nodded. “They’ve been keeping it secret for God knows how long. They send out people to wipe your mind if you witness anything funny or see a mystical creature.”

As one, Bobby, Sally, and Bill turned to look at the occupant on the table. “I wonder how many times they’ve scrubbed our brains?” Bobby asked.

“Oh wow!” Marcy exclaimed. “Is that a unicorn?”

“Yes,” Sally said weakly. “We may have acquired her through some questionable means.”

“That explains why you haven’t gone home ahead of the storm. It’s monkeys outside,” Marcy said. “Besides, you do know that it’s an alien from another dimension. Apparently, there is a refugee program by our magical folk that’s been going on for an unknown amount of time.”

“Now you’re just taking a piss,” Bobby accused. “You really had us going there for a minute.”

“What’s going on?” a voice called from the still-occupied carry crate. “Let me out of here or I'll sue your pants off!”

“We are so buggered,” Bill noted.





In the living room of her posh apartment, Elisa Bates surveyed the foals who had poured out of Hedwig’s pouch. She frowned. “Hello children. Where’s Abigail?”

“She went with Lavender to St. Mungo's.” Hermione said. “There’s been an attack and her parents have been hospitalized.”

“How horrible,” Elisa gasped. “What happened?”

“They think it was a werewolf,” Seamus said, “except it’s not a full moon out.”

Elisa turned to one of her goblin guards. “Is there any way you guys can look into this?”

The guard snapped to attention. “An assault team will be dispatched immediately.” he said before exiting the room.

“I’m going to head to the hospital; will you lot be able to floo home on your own?”

“We were going to my house,” Hermione offered. “I have no idea why Hedwig brought us here instead.”

“Bark!”

“I guess Harry’s owl is defective,” Seamus said.

The owl in question huffed before flying away.

“You hurt her feelings.” Luna accused.

“I’ll apologize to her later.” Seamus shrugged. “Right now, I want to get home and check on my own parents.”

“I guess we’ll be catching the bus,” Dean said, also shrugging and gesturing toward his sisters.

“You’ll be doing no such thing.” Elisa countered. “Call your parents and let them know you’ll be weathering the storm here.”

“You have a phone?” Dean perked up.

“Yes,” Elisa said, walking toward the floo. “There’s one in the kitchen. Just ask the goblins if you need anything. I’ll be back later with Abigail, and we’ll make a sleepover out of it.”





A new wrinkle had been added to the pandemonium of St. Mungo's. “Where is she now?” one healer asked another wearily.

“Last time I saw her, she was in the ward for irrevocable spell damage, throwing a party for the patients. She pulled a cake out of her hair and everything.”

“Hopefully that keeps her busy for a while. I’ve got frosting in crevices I didn’t know I had. By the way, I believe the proper term is 'mane'.”

“I believe I’m going to scream the next time I meet a pink pony.”

“Why’s that?”

“She started singing.”

“So?”

“Everyone couldn’t help joining in, just like they say happened with those women at the bank.”

“Really?”

“And I mean everyone, including some patients who shouldn’t of had the capacity.”

A soft chuckle followed. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“I think I threw out my back.”





The crisp night air chilled the outside of their coats as Twilight and Rainbow Dash walked the early evening streets of Ponyville. Both ponies were studying the ground more than anything else as they headed in the direction of Sugarcube Corner.

“I can’t believe we just got reamed out by Big Mac,” Twilight bemoaned as she shambled through the snow.

“He hardly said a word,” Rainbow said.

“That only makes it worse.”

Rainbow, also walking on the ground for once, agreed. “I can’t believe we forgot about him and the meeting.”

“How could we be so irresponsible?” Twilight hung her head in shame. “This was important and we left Big Mac to handle it by himself.”

“We’ll make it up to him somehow,” Rainbow stated.

“At least that’s the worse scolding I’m likely to get anytime soon.” The lavender unicorn sighed.

“Twilight Sparkle!”

With a snap, Twilight and Rainbow lifted their heads and beheld Twilight’s mother, father and brother. All of them were glaring with scowls. Meanwhile, Clouded Hope rode on her father’s back, looking disturbed.

“One,” Rainbow said, “you have a real knack for that, and two, I see you get the whole flaming mane deal from your mother.”

In the distance, a lonely bugle sounded the plaintive notes of "Last Post".





In a cozy cottage dedicated to fauna, a snowy owl appeared from an orthogonal dimension.

“Bark!”

“Oh my, that’s terrible!”

“Bark!”

“Are you sure?”

“Bark! Bark!”

“Thank you for bringing that right to me. I’ll go get the girls. I’m sure Twilight will know what to do.”





The guards' mess lacked both the size and the grandeur of the main banquet hall. However, it was still a roomy and private space, perfect for an informal meal away from the trappings of government. Petunia Dursley had feared the worst when she was escorted into the room, but her anxiety faded when she found herself facing a smiling white winged unicorn who was flanked by her current companion, Rarity. A few gentle words to the guards clarified the Dursleys' status and defused the situation.

With the guards now standing at ease, Petunia carefully listened as the three rulers introduced themselves. Celestia was in the middle, Luna was to her sister's right, and Cadance was to Celesta's left. As the scents of the desserts wafted her way, Petunia could not help but think the three were Neapolitan.

Despite Celestia's assurances, Petunia found that she could not enjoy herself as she found herself the target of a stink eye that an elderly pegasus kept casting her way.

“That seems like a lot of effort to go through just to throw a surprise party,” Celestia said before taking another bite from her salad.

“It’s for the foals,” Rarity said. “The looks on their faces will make it worth the effort. Besides, this does mean they get to spend their vacation time together.”

Celestia swallowed. “True enough.” She then turned to the mute human at the table. “Will you be attending with your son? I think it would be a perfect opportunity for him to reconcile with his cousin. I know they have an unpleasant history, but this could be the best opportunity for them to even consider mending their relationship.”

Petunia put down her smoothie and nodded her head in agreement.

“Auntie,” Cadance said, “I’ve been meaning to ask. Since I arrived late, I don’t know why she can’t talk right now.”

“The doctor says she mustn't speak for twenty-four hours to allow her burned throat to heal properly,” Rarity supplied.

“That’s awful,” Cadance said. “How did that happen?”

“Fire whisky,” Rarity said.

“Fire whisky? Might you spare a taste?” Celestia asked. “After that first sample, I have been craving more of that exquisite ambrosia.”

“We think not, sister,” Princess Luna said.

Celestia pouted. "It's a perfectly harmless indulgence -- with the proper precautions."

“If we cannot indulge in the divine nectar that is espresso, then thou must also refrain from imbibing fire whisky,” Luna said firmly.

“I am sorry, Princess,” Rarity interjected. “But my friends have seen fit to confiscate my reserve.”

“How did you manage to burn your throat with fire whisky?” Cadance was still confused. “Did you inhale by accident?”

“Twilight says it’s because her innate magic was blocked,” Rarity said. “She did fix that, though.”

“That is good,” Celestia said as the doors opened to admit what looked like a small earth pony family ushered in by a pair of guards.

“Ah, our other guests arrive,” Luna said. “We do hope the damages did not approach the same levels as yesterday.”

“Your highnesses.” The stallion stepped forward to talk for the group. “I apologize; it was not the intention of my daughter and her friend to cause a commotion.”

“I understand,” Celestia said, levitating a scroll the guard had been carrying toward herself so she could read. “However, please realize that this course of action cannot be allowed.”

“But the Crusaders did the same thing,” the pink filly whined. “We heard the rumors and couldn’t let them get so far ahead.”

“They have been told not to do it again, Diamond Tiara,” Rarity said before Filthy Rich could scold his daughter.

“We should have considered that thou would attempt to reproduce their efforts,” Luna said. “The fault is ours. However, know that unauthorized imports from the human world for sale shall no longer be tolerated. Thou are to eschew informing anypony as to the source or potential scope of thy resources. Furthermore, we have sent the guard to notify all of the potion apprentices that they are likewise restrained.”

“Yes, your Highnesses.” Filthy once again spoke for the group.

“I see you have better money sense than the Crusaders,” Celestia said, still reading the parchment. “You may not have matched their efforts, but you did, comparatively, get more for less.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” Silver Spoon said.

“Daddy helped,” Diamond Tiara said proudly.

With a hint of ice, Celestia said, "Had you continued, you would have destroyed Equestria's economy." In a lighter tone, she continued. "Regardless, life is for learning, and no real damage was done."

“Where are our manners?” Cadance said. “Won’t you join us? Any friend of Rarity’s and the Crusaders’ are welcome.”

Spoiled Rich shot a glance at Rarity before saying, “Thank you, we would be honored.” She couldn’t wait to tell everypony that she had dined with all three of the princesses.





“Spike!” Twilight Sparkle called out as she pushed open the door to her abode with her magic. “Spike! Where are you?”

“In the kitchen!” came the reply

Twilight led her family and Rainbow Dash into the room in question to find the table nearly packed with guests eating muffins topped with a softly-glowing pink substance. Harry was there with his two mothers, as were his cousin, the mailmare, and her daughter.

“Spike, why am I finding out from my mother that I’m married?”

“You didn’t know?” Spike asked, glazing another muffin with the pink substance.

Clouded Hoped started sniffing the air with a surprised look on her face which only intensified when Spike handed her the muffin.

“No, I did not know. This is the first I’m hearing of it.” Twilight huffed.

“Oops, my bad,” Spike admitted. “I suppose Sirius wanted to check with the Ministry before laying that on you.”

Clouded took a bite from the proffered muffin, gave it a curious look, then glanced at her father before looking back at the muffin.

“How do you get married without knowing about it?” Lyra asked.

“I dunno,” Spike said, nabbing another virgin muffin. “Draco Malfoy said that the Black family magic has accepted her as Sirius’s wife; therefore, it was legally binding. I didn’t exactly ask for details.”

Suddenly, an owl bearing a pouch engraved with the crest of the two sisters flew into the already crowded room.

"You got mail!" interjected Rainbow Dash.

There was a lull in the conversation as a window-rattling belch announced the entrance of Rarity and Petunia.

“R-r-rarity,” Spike sputtered, spreading more pink paste on the muffin he was holding and covering his claw for good measure.

“Spike, darling,” Rarity cooed in greeting.

“That is never getting old,” Rainbow commented. “Why were you two in the pouch?”

“We had dinner with the princesses,” Rarity said. “It would seem that between the Crusaders and the Tiara herd, a good portion of Canterlot is now owned by Ponyville natives.”

Twilight Sparkle sighed. “Things just can’t get any more interesting today, can they?”

Everypony stopped what they were doing and stared at the purple mare with varying levels of dread on their faces.

Suddenly a beam of black light appeared out of nowhere and struck Harry in the forehead. The pegasus colt toppled out of his chair and started screaming in agony.

The generation's best shield caster raised a protective dome around the room. For all the good it did, Shining Armor's shield might as well have been wet tissue.

“What is it?” Lyra screamed as she and Twilight lit their horns to combat whatever was attacking Harry. Tiny bolts of black lightning danced around the now-bleeding scar on his forehead. The rest of his body seemed to glow silver as if trying to fight off the foreign energies.

“It’s pure hate,” Clouded whimpered cringing away from the screaming colt.

“Harry! Harry!” Lyra screamed, channeling even more power into her horn, threating to burn herself out with the effort.

“Pure hate?” Spike said, looking at the pink covered muffin in his claw. "Say 'hello' to pure love." He applied the topping directly to Harry’s forehead.

A new scream filled the room, only this time, instead of coming from Harry’s throat, it came from the scar itself.

“Here drink this!” Twilight commanded, levitating a jar containing the remaining pink honey to pour it down Harry’s throat.

Lyra redirected her energies around Harry. She pledged every ounce of commitment, offering her own life to protect the son she had recently claimed. Bon Bon, still in human form, held him close in a vain attempt to shield him with her body. Unconsciously, she added her own will to the fight, a power no less potent than Lyra's more visible magic. Mother’s love reinforced mother’s love. The silver aura around Harry grew ever brighter.

Hate, arrogance and selfishness thrust out with wild abandon.

Devotion and commitment made a determine riposte.

Coulé met coulé. Angry sparks flew as forte met forte. An explosion of pink filled the room as guard slammed into guard.

A howl accompanied the cloud of black smoke that poured from Harry's scar. It shrieked as it began fading to pink. From the aura around Harry, a once-intangible presence coalesced into a ghostly pink form that took the shape of a woman. The image glowered at the billowing smoke and said in a compelling voice, “Now and forever, BEGONE!”

The smoke gave a death rattle as it turned fully pink before collapsing into nothing.

In a stunned voice, Clouded whispered, "Amor vincit omnia."

Just as abruptly as peril had raised its head, peace had returned. Gently, Bon Bon set Harry onto the ground.

In the following silence, the apparition smiled warmly down at the stunned form of Harry Potter and said. “I shall always be near. Know that you are and shall always be loved.”

“Lily?” Petunia gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

The ghost looked at her sister. “There is nothing to forgive; you are my sister.” She then looked at Lyra and Bon Bon. “You have my undying thanks. Please take care of my son -- our son.”

“Always,” Lyra and Bon Bon said as one.

The vision was starting to fade as it turned to Twilight Sparkle. “Tell Sirius that the rat has done terrible things, plans to do terrible things. Tell him Wormtail might yet find the path to redemption. Remember, cowards are not sorted into Gryffindor.”

She turned to Harry again. “I love you, so very, very much.” The light in the room faded from pink back to normal. The ghost was gone.

“Mum!” Harry leapt to his hooves. “MUM!” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t leave. Pleeeeease don’t leave. Please.”

Bon Bon crouched down and laid her hand on his head. “She never left,” she confided.

Lyra came over and nuzzled the side of his face. “And she never will.”
> Chapter 75: Reprieve of the Comatose
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The howling winds smothered the “alohomora” even as it left the lips of the black unicorn filly pointing her horn at the rear door of the facility. A curtain of fluffy flakes hid the figure who stood waist deep, silhouetted against the blanket of white. The soft click of the latch opening announced the wave of foals who charged into the kennel as quietly as ghosts. One pair flew to the ceiling on leather wings while another pair used feathered. They latched themselves at strategic locations along the ceiling. Simultaneously, two earth ponies rushed forward and took up station on opposite sides of the door leading to the hallway. Three black unicorn foals brought up the rear. All hope of entering unnoticed died as every dog in the facility enthusiastically greeted them.

“Mum?” Hermione called out as loudly as she dared.

From above, Abigail's disembodied voice replied, "She's not here." Looking up, Hermione could see only darkness.

“Ooooo,” Seamus said, shifting into a human boy clad in a shozoku. “Is that a tranq gun? Come to papa.”

“Seamus, leave that alone,” Parvati scolded. “They aren’t going to leave a loaded gun lying around, and we don’t have time for you to figure out how it works.”

"What's there to figure out?" asked Seamus. "You just load, point, and shoot."

“Just leave it,” Sweetie said. “We just want to get in and out. Philomena is waiting for our signal, and I don’t want to keep her out in that cold for any longer than I have to.”

Suddenly, the door to the hallway opened, admitting two men. “Alright what’s with the commotiooooooooooooon!” the first one through said as he found himself on the receiving end of a perfectly executed tomoe nage. Dogs whined as their cages broke his fall.

“What! Ooooof!” the second in line exclaimed as Neville took his legs out from underneath him.

*Pfft!*

“Ack!” the second exclaimed as the dart that blossomed from his shoulder added emphasis.

“Bill!” the formerly flying Englishman called out. “Hey! Watch were you’re pointing that! Not in the face! Not in the face!”

*Pfft!*

Parvati watched the two succumb to their drug-induced slumber. “I withdraw my objections.”

“I thought we were just going to have Hermione stun everyone,” Abigail said as the men noisily dozed.

“I can cast stupefy, too,” Sweetie huffed.

“Yeah, and we all saw that you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn at five paces,” Dean countered.

“I’m not that bad,” Sweetie seethed.

“Maybe it was ten paces,” Parvati acknowledged, “but that doesn’t change the fact that the safest person in the room would be your target."

“Lavender,” Neville said, “Apple Bloom is gonna have a fit when she hears you’ve been throwing men around again.”

“Right now, I just want to help Hermione free her parents and get back to Mum and Dad. I’ll take the thousand laps around the Quidditch pitch.”

“Maybe we should save the arguing for later.” Luna’s disembodied voice drifted downward. “I can hear voices from down the hallway.”

“Right!” Sweetie agreed. “Onward! Cutie Mark Crusader Hostage Rescuers!”

“Yay!” The battle cry cut through the cacophony of barking dogs as the room rapidly became ponyless.

“So much for subtlety,” Parvati moaned as she joined the charge.





Emma sighed as she lowered what would have completed a grand slam and looked at her husband, who was sprawled out on the table with his tongue hanging out. “Sweetie, you really need to work on your aim.”

“Oops. Sorry Mrs. Granger.”

“Never mind that,” Dean said. “Call for the evac.”

“Oh, right,” Sweetie said. “Philomena!”

A burst of flames answered her call.

“Slow down, children,” Emma commanded, using a hoof to nudge one of the unconscious women who was splayed atop the table. “There is no reason to get excited.”

“They kidnapped you,” Seamus protested.

“We managed to work it out,” Emma said, turning to prod the other woman. “Why don’t you go ahead and wake everyone up?”

“Is that a good idea, Mum?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, we need to deescalate,” Emma said. “There has been more than enough forced unconsciousness today.”

The roar of thunder and a flash of lightning filled the room.

“All right! Nopony . . . move?” Rainbow Dash commanded as she hovered above several other ponies and took in the view.

“You’re late,” Emma dryly noted.

“What happened here?” Twilight asked, her horn still glowing defensively.

“The kids happened,” Emma answered.

“Kids?” Shining Armor asked. “You drafted baby goats?”

“It’s a term that humans use to refer to all children,” Lyra corrected. “What she’s saying is that the Cutie Mark Crusaders happened.”

“Okay. That makes a lot more sense.”

“Twilight, could you wake everyone up please?” Emma asked, using her hooves to collect the cards spilled across the break room table.

“Including the humans?”

“Yes, please.”

“All right.” Twilight’s horn flashed.

“Sweetie!” Rarity gasped, noticing the formerly white unicorn filly for the first time. “What did you do to your coat?”

“Um, we used shoe polish so we could hide better. Hermione does glow in the dark.”

“Noooooo!” Rarity called out before swaying and fainting onto a red divan that miraculously appeared.

“You should have waited before reviving everypony,” Bon Bon suggested, watching as Rarity dramatically dropped.

“Huh? Why are there ponies everywhere?” Marcy, the human veterinarian, asked, groggily raising her head from the table. “And where is the Billy-Bob Brigade? I thought they were only going to check on the dogs.”

“They’re taking a nap,” Seamus said smugly.

“Great, the cavalry is here to erase our memories,” Sally muttered, lifting her own head and blinking rapidly.

“We can do that?” Shining Armor asked, throwing a worried look to his younger sister.

“The humans do have a spell that does that. It’s how they keep themselves hidden,” Twilight acknowledged.

“Twilight, Sugarcube, jus' so ya know, it would do wonders fer my state of mind if y'all never learn that there spell,” Applejack said, absently fanning Rarity with her Stetson.

“That goes double for you,” Bon Bon told Lyra.

“Already know it,” Lyra said. “In fact, now is exactly the right time to use it.”

“You don’t have to,” Marcy raised her hands defensively. “It’s kind of meaningless now.”

Lyra smirked as a golden aura covered her horn. “Obliviate.”

Both women eeped and ducked under the table.

“Just kidding,” Lyra said. “I don’t have a license and I’m in no hurry to do permanent damage if I messed it up.”

“Not funny!” Marcy yelled.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Fluttershy said, causing the humans to note her presence for the first time.

“Lyra, we don’t want Emma and Dan to get in hot water with the Ministry,” Twilight said. “That’s why everyhuman here is just going to agree that this never happened.”

“Works for us,” Sally said.

“How do we know they’ll keep quiet?” Rainbow asked.

“Pinkie Promise,” Twilight stated flatly.

“That’ll do it,” Applejack agreed. “Ya’d have ta be a mite touched in the head to break a Pinkie Promise.”

“That reminds me; we left Pinkie alone at the hospital,” Sweetie said.

Everypony in the room turned their attention on the unicorn filly. “Y'all did what now?” Applejack asked, exasperated.





“Is that vanilla frosting?” a healer asked.

“No, Amaretto,” replied his colleague. “It’s rather good, too.”





With a scowl painted on his face, Draco Malfoy followed his cousin through the uncomfortably deep snow. He was regretting his decision to follow her out into London for the large breakfast she had craved while the rest of the house still slept. Though he had to admit that her mistrust of the house elf had some merit. Why she chose trudging to a muggle restaurant over flooing to a wizarding establishment was beyond him, especially since the storm the night before made the trek miserable and cold. Draco wasn’t sure why he had decided to tag along.

It had taken a good forty-five minutes to travel from the family house to a modern café with large windows and a glass door for an entryway. The chilled air had left him anticipating hot tea to warm his bones, muggle restaurant or not. He was stomping the snow off his boots when the waitress came over with a pair of menus in her hand.

“Table for two, dearies?” the older woman asked, flashing a welcoming smile.

“Yes please,” Nymphadora said, removing her hat and freeing her short pink hair from the confining brown wool.

The waitress blinked in surprise upon seeing the unexpected color, then turned and noted that Draco had an unusually pale blonde shade to his own hair. Then, she violated all rules of personal space by reaching out and running her free hand through Nymphadora’s now-exposed pink tresses. “I never would have dreamed this possible. You don’t have roots; this is natural.” The waitress breathed, “You’re a pony.”

Nymphadora blinked; she hadn’t expected to run into a witch slinging hash at the local muggle café, but how else could she have made that leap of logic? “Actually, no, I’m a changeling.”

The waitress froze, eyes going wide in terror with her hand still in the younger woman’s hair. “One of the Fae?” A tremble made its way over her body.

“Nah, Equestrian changelings are completely different,” Nymphadora said reassuringly, not wanting to cause a scene for the muggles by going with the obvious prank just waiting to happen. “Only the name is the same. Don’t worry, Fae still haven’t been seen for centuries.”

The waitress breathed a shuddering sigh of relief and withdrew her hand. “I suppose you’ll be wanting something vegetarian then? I’m sure the cook can whip you something up, even if it isn’t on the menu.” She turned to eye Draco expectantly as she asked Nymphadora the question.

“Nah. I’m here for as much greasy meat as I can stomach,” Nymphadora said. “Not sure what Draco wants, though.”

“I’ll be eating human style,” Draco snapped. “If I wanted pony food, I’d have owled myself to Diamond and eaten with her.”

“You’re a changeling, too?” the waitress asked.

“Earth pony,” Draco said proudly, puffing out his chest with pride.

Nymphadora used the long sleeve of her coat to cover her casting of a discreet notice-me-not spell since the topic was becoming something she’d have to obliviate from any muggle who overheard.

“Well then, let’s get you seated and fed.” The waitress said, motioning for the duo to follow.





Common wisdom had dictated that the war that had forged a coalition of disparate nations would have been the story of the century. Conventional wisdom had been unwise. Around the world, people now struggled to understand the implications of one reporter’s work. In the island nation, variations on a theme were bandied about by talking heads. In the typical household, the telly played in the background as people argued about its message.

“Welcome back, and good morning to those just joining us. We are, of course, discussing the shocking revelations that bombarded the airwaves just this previous evening in a coordinated release worldwide — the joint declaration that magic, of all things, is real and has been hidden from the general population for generations. My first guest of the day is a professor of social and political theory from our beloved Oxford. Please welcome Dr. Simon Burrows.”

“Thank you, Grant. It is an honor to be on your program following such a revolutionary announcement.”

“It is a mind-boggling thing that we are learning. Obviously, this changes our understanding of the world in ways yet to be considered. I’m curious to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

The professor took a deep breath before saying, “Our world has just been shaken off its very foundation. By that, I mean religion, already on the decline, has just been dealt a mortal blow. All that is left is waiting for it to bleed out.”

The host openly frowned deeply at that. “You are, of course, exaggerating. There isn’t the slightest chance that this news would have such a dramatic effect on what people believe. There is no need to be such an alarmist.”

“It is not an exaggeration,” the professor said. “One of the most important revelations from last night was one mentioned almost in passing. The Greek and Roman gods must have been ancient wizards and witches, mortals with extraordinary powers who made claims to divinity. How long, then, is it before people make the connection that the same thing doubtlessly holds true for the founding individuals of all modern religions. Mohammad flying towards the heavens on a flying steed is no longer unthinkable, but at the same time, no longer divine. Jesus walking on water is now a petty parlor trick, as is the summoning of fish and loaves. In that context, Buddha’s golden bowl is almost laughable.”

The professor paused as the host absorbed his words with eyes bulged in disbelief. “Miracles are no longer miracles; they are something the woman down the street can do for a lark. What impressed your father and your father’s father will be commonplace for your children. Yes, there will be die hard traditionalists, but their influence has been cut off at the knees.”

“That is preposterous,” the host snapped. “Their power lies in their parables. People have a need to believe in something greater than themselves; that is what makes them strive to be better than what their base instincts dictate.”

The professor shrugged. “We now see that their faith is based on the mundane, not the miraculous.”

“Wizards cannot create whole universes. They cannot raise the dead back to life. I refuse to even think that Jesus was just some wizard bloke who decided he’d pull the world’s most callous prank.”

“That is because you’ve been conditioned to obey and not question.”

“Have you stopped to consider that these witches and wizards are nothing more than devil worshippers who care for nothing but their own greedy desires?”

“And that, my dear boy . . .” The professor smirked smugly. “. . . is exactly why they went into hiding in the first place.”





In the overstuffed treehouse that served as Ponyville’s library, Shining Armor made his way to the kitchen. Yawning, he craved the nectar of the gods. He had suffered through a long, late night. It had taken forever to calm Clouded enough to get her to sleep on the lumpy couch, and flushing the adrenaline from what turned out to be an unnecessary rescue of the Grangers had taken most of what was left of the night. He wanted to sleep through lunch, but he had promises to keep.

Things would improve once he had a nice pot of brown wakefulness. He had learned a spell to brew an instant batch that could wake the dead. Once he finished that, he could surprise his mother and Spike by cooking breakfast. Surely, they would appreciate getting to relax that morning while he handled the chore.

An enticing aroma broke him from his reverie. Someone had beaten him to the punch. He drooled in anticipation as he opened the kitchen door, only to witness true horror. On the table, on a bed of papers, lay the coffee carafe. It was dry as a bone.

Pulling his focus back, he saw that the papers on the table were covered with arcane calculations. Pulling back further, he spotted the culprit. His baby sister was sitting behind an assortment of sophisticated instruments for measuring different characteristics of magic, lost in thought. Clearly, she had spent the night trying to analyze the attack on the colt that had taken place under her roof.

“So, what exactly happened?” Shining asked, startling his sister out of her analytic fugue.

“Oh! BBBFF!” Twilight said excitedly, not seeming the least bit tired. “I’ve isolated the residual thaumic oscillations corresponding to the attack and correlated them with the median harmonic . . .”

She was cut off as Shining reached out with his magic to clamp her muzzle shut. “Twiley, please, I just woke up. The magic kindergarten version please.”

Twilight shook her head to loosen his grip. “Sorry,” she snarled with a glare. “There is just so much data to go over.”

“Only half of which I’d understand,” Shining said. “If that.”

Twilight fixed him with disapproving eyes before starting over. “You see, Harry Potter is famous in his world because his parents were killed by an evil stallion by the name of Voldemort. The monster attacked the colt’s family when he was just a year old. The father was killed first, then the mother. Harry Potter was the third target and supposedly the spell used was reflected back at the caster, leaving Harry unharmed, except for that scar he has.”

“Magical surge?” Shining asked.

“That is what most of the humans believe, but the protective spell around Harry suggests that it was his mother’s work. She gave her life to save her foal.

Shining nodded his head with respect. “What does that have to do with what happened last night?”

“Her protection wasn’t perfect. A piece of Voldemort’s soul was lodged in Harry’s skull. That’s why the scar never healed properly. Meanwhile, a part of his mother stayed to protect him. That’s the fight we witnessed last night; his mother finally drove out the monster. We were planning on using the elements on him before he goes back to school, but that is no longer necessary.”

“What was that attack? Is Voldemort still out there then?”

“That was Voldemort’s soul calling to the fragment. I don’t know what prompted it, but it could mean he is not gone for good.” Twilight grimaced. “It could also mean something was destroying him and this was a last-ditch effort on his part to anchor himself to the living world. There isn’t a way to tell with the evidence available.”

“If he returns to his world, is Harry Potter in danger?”

“Just the opposite. His mother’s magic is attuned to Voldemort on an intimate level and is no longer burdened with the constant battle against the fragment. If he got within a thousand trots of Harry, Voldemort would find the experience disastrous at best.”

“What of the other foals? Is it safe to send Clouded back?”

“I can make some crystals that use Harry’s protections as a template. They won’t be as strong, but they will make the wearer immune to any spells cast by Voldemort and, to a lesser extent, cause him pain if he gets too close. In fact, with your help, I can design a passive shield that will cover the entire school and its surroundings. It will target Voldemort directly and will be harmless to everypony else. Harry’s mother’s magic has become so uniquely specialized to counter Voldemort’s very soul that it is foal’s play to mimic and amplify.”

“Hmm, if somepony had a shield like that tuned to you, could you counter it?”

“Yes, but I’d have to know it was there first. But that couldn’t happen, anyway; I never split my soul, and there isn’t a hostile magical force that knows my essence that well. This spell would have only one specific target and is only possible because of the singular circumstances leading up to the unique spell matrix.”

“Let’s get to work then.” Shining yawned. “After I brew some coffee.”

Twilight nervously rubbed the back of her head with a forehoof. “Would you believe I finished the last bean?”

Shining sighed. His paradise was lost.





The recuperating colt opened is eyes and was greeted by the sight of cream-colored fur. With a sigh, he snuggled closer, only turning his head enough to note that he was buttressed in by mint-colored fur on the other side. For the first time he could remember he felt . . . safe? Wanted? Loved? It was similar to when he slept next to the members of his herd, but fundamentally different.

“Good morning, Harry Potter,” Bon Bon said lazily. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry muttered happily.

“That’s ‘yes, Mom’,” Lyra teased. “We promised Lilly Potter that you were our own. Don’t doubt that for a minute.”

“Yes, Mom,” Harry said, a smile claiming his face.

“That’s better,” Bon Bon said and nuzzled Harry.

Harry did not giggle. He adamantly avowed he had never done anything of the sort.

“Before we get up, it’s time for serious parenting,” Lyra said.

“Huh?” Harry murmured.

“Right after breakfast, you and I are going to have a visit to the hospital, just to reaffirm everything is all right with you,” Lyra said.

“But Twilight’s mum and dad took me last night,” Harry complained.

“And you are going again today,” Bon Bon said. “Afterward, you are spending the day with me and Lyra in the shop. We could use the extra help, it being the holidays and all.”

“Okay, I’m happy to help. But do I really need to be seen by a doctor again?”

“Yes,” the two mares said in unison.





The little girl opened her eyes and immediately regretted it as the sunbeams offended her sensibilities. Moaning in protest, she brought her hand up to block out the intrusion only to find something flat and hard struck her head, forcing her to close her eyes again.

“Ow!” she complained.

“Astoria, you’re awake!” she heard her mother exclaim.

“Yes, mother,” she replied dutifully.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Astoria said, feeling the bed react to her mother sitting on it.

“That is expected,” Astoria’s mother said. “Don’t attempt to change back. The doctors don’t want you to strain yourself, and they are not sure if the suppressor ring on your horn will prevent an attempt.”

“Horn?” Astoria groaned, opening her eyes once more only to close them again. “Doctors?”

“Yes.” Astoria heard her father’s voice but couldn’t focus on him just yet. “The blood curse reacted badly to your unicorn body and was rejected. You are cured, but you will be spending the next several days in bed.”

“Bed?”

“Yes, dear,” Astoria’s mother said. “You need your rest.”

A door opened. “Pardon me, I need to get through.” Astoria heard an unknown voice say. “The alert that she is awake just came.”

“Yes, nurse, do not let me intrude on your duties.” The weight of her mother left the bed.

Astoria contemplated opening her eyes again when a wave of magic washed over her.

“She is recovering nicely.” Astoria heard the nurse say. “Now, little one, go back to sleep.”

Astoria felt another wave of magic and knew no more.





A not so little girl opened her eyes and immediately regretted it as sunbeams offended her sensibilities. Moaning in protest, she brought her hand up to block out the intrusion.

“Mum!” she heard before her eyes focused.

“Lavender,” she croaked dryly. Then, fear gripped her heart. “Your father?”

“He’s sleeping in the next bed.”

“How is he?” The fear did not lessen.

“The healers say he’s doing better than he had any right to. Werewolf bites are resistant to normal magical healing but Philomena cried on him, and that was enough.”

“Werewolf?” Lavender’s mother whispered, tears forming.

“Yes, but don’t worry,” Lavender said. “Zecora can make a potion that will cure you. We just have to wait until spring for more ingredients to bloom. They have already used up all of her stock curing a lot of werewolves.”

“You weren’t hurt?” Lavender’s mother went to her next worry.

“I’m sorry,” Lavender sniffed. “I wasn’t there to protect you.”

A weak laugh followed. “Never put yourself in danger to protect me. It is my job to protect you, not the other way around.”

“I’m strong; I could have thrown a barrel at it.”

“No!” This was said, maybe a bit too forcefully. “Your life is more precious to me than my own.”

“Mum.”

“No, I am thankful that you were not present.”

“But.”

“Lavender.”

“Mum.”

“Come here. I need a hug.”





Lord Greengrass stood on a balcony gazing across forest and field at the distant town that the pony guard accompanying him indicated. He stood several steps back since the railing was so low as to be useless if he were to falter. “That is the town where Lady Belle resides?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir,” the guard answered. “If we hurry, we can catch the early train and be there in an hour or so.”

“That will not be necessary. If I can see it, that shall be enough.”

The guard looked at him questioningly as Lord Greengrass placed his hand on the guard’s withers and focused his will.

After the bang, the guard collapsed to the ground wheezing. “That was awful.”

“The first time is always the worst, and I’ve never been here before, making it even more so,” Lord Greengrass said, eyeing the ponies gawking at their unexpected arrival. “Take a minute to compose yourself.”

“Is he all right?” a mare asked, trotting up to examine the fallen guard.

“Yes,” Lord Greengrass said. “Side along apparition is unpleasant but not dangerous for one as practiced as myself. While we wait for his stomach to catch up, would you be kind enough to direct me toward the dwelling of Lady Rarity Belle? She has been kind enough to look after my daughter while we sat with my youngest in the hospital, and I must offer her my gratitude.”

“Um, sure; it’s just down the street. The Carousel Boutique. You can’t miss it.” The mare pointed out a direction with her hoof. “If you see an unattended trunk out front, steer clear of it. It’s got a nasty temper.”

“Thank you for the directions and the warning,” Lord Greengrass said before addressing his guide. “Are you sufficiently recovered?”

The guard only grunted as he found his feet.

“Then, let us proceed.”





Nymphadora groaned as she pushed her plate away from herself and towards Draco, who was sitting on the bench across from her, muggle watching.

“Turn it up!” she heard another patron demand. “He’s giving an address.”

The waitress crossed over to the telly and obliged, causing the general conversation to falter in the café. They turned their attention to the bespectacled man on the screen.

“..will mean changes and an adjustment to our way of seeing the world. Hate and mistrust cannot be allowed to take root.” The telly continued at a louder volume. “I will therefore once again emphasize that violence against our fellow countrymen shall not be tolerated and indeed shall be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. They have stayed hidden for a reason, and that reason is an affront to humanity. I shall be directing the House of Commons to consider legislation reinforcing the basic civil rights of all citizens, magical or not. I will also be requesting that those same protections be extended toward all people, regardless of their species. There will not be a repeat of the circumstances that drove our brothers into hiding.” The telly paused for effect. “We will welcome our cosmic neighbors, the ponies, with open arms. We will prove that this generation is better than those that came before it. We will go into the future with our heads held high, not as the lone bearers of sapience, but as one of many races.”

Nymphadora gasped and turned to look at the waitress who was smiling at her warmly. Her blood ran cold as realization struck. The waitress wasn’t a witch. The shield of secrecy that had protected the wizarding world for centuries had been shattered.
> Chap... Interlude 7.2?: Nothing to See Here
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spring Rain knew it was only a matter of time until her well ran dry. Governments took a dim view of circumvention of the law, even if justice were served. Still, it was incredibly rewarding to do well by doing good.

The origins had been modest. With no means of support, the herd had agreed to have one member attend the Ministry-mandated acclimation course while the other two secured their financial base. With a borrowed owl, she had sent her mother a bit of muggle rubbish. As she suspected, one mare’s trash was another’s mare’s treasure. Her mother had exchanged the bits and bobs for the small gems that were her seed money. The goblins had been more than happy to give good galleons for the craft store supplies.

It had been foal’s play to recruit a Ministry witch who had been helping the refugees settle in. With a few muggle repellent charms, some apparation, an owl with a pony-carrying pouch, and a good bit of ingenuity, Spring Rain had everything she needed to export the commodity that no number of bits could buy. Now, however, those bits were being exchanged for gems for which goblins gave good galleons. The bits were flying in on one side while galleons poured in on the other. Everyone involved benefitted; clearly, it couldn’t last.

They waited for their next commission as they sat by an open doorway that the muggles ignored and avoided. Thankfully, they didn’t have a long wait.

“There he is,” Velvet Bridle said, pointing at one of the young human males walking by in an orange jumpsuit. “Grab him.”

Their witch companion did not waste time and waved her wand in what was becoming familiar patterns. The male in question peeled away from the pack and wandered into the room without drawing the attention of those with whom he had been walking and conversing. He was a fine specimen, something the young human mares would drool over, if they had access to him. Circumstance saw fit to see that wouldn’t be happening for nearly a decade. He was a perfect candidate to show circumstance could just bugger off.

“Adam Smith.” Spring Rain smiled from the comfy chair their witch companion had transfigured for her. “Good morning. Please come in and have a seat.”

Adam blinked as if just coming back to his senses. He took in the fact that he was in a room with three women. Two had hair with differing shades of black while the one offering him a seat had vibrant green.

Rudely, he berated them for interrupting his routine.

“There is no need for such vulgarity.” Spring Rain tsked. “We are all friends here, after all.”

Adam noticed the folder sitting on a small table next to Spring Rain. “Another shrink? I ain’t got anything else to say, so sod off.” With those words, he turned to leave.

The witch in the room waved her wand and said, “Sobrietate.” The young man flew backwards across the room and landed in the offered seat with and expulsion of air from his lungs.

“I insist that you hear my offer,” Spring Rain said, picking the folder up off the table to peruse the contents. “So, do us all a favor and drop the act. You’re not fooling anythree.”

“Anyone,” the witch corrected.

“But there are three of us,” Spring objected.

“Are you an idiot?” Adam demanded, trying to stand up, but finding himself firmly anchored to his seat.

Spring ignored him and read from the folder. “Your life is in shambles,” she informed him. “As things stand, you are not going to see the outside for a good long time.”

“Sod off!” Adam said again, not impressed by the observation.

“Why do you insist on being disagreeable?” Spring asked. “We are here to offer you a way out. Give you a second chance. Improve your lot in life, even.”

Adam sneered but gave up struggling as a lost cause.

“You see, we don’t consider protecting your older sister from your loathsome father as a compelling reason to remove you from society. In truth, we think it adds to your desirability.” Spring thumbed her way through the papers in the folder. “No one . . .” She emphasized the word “one”. “. . . can dispute that you were excessive with the use of an iron poker, but we all know you had ample motivation. We also understand that you won’t get a fair shake anymore if you choose to stay in the system.”

“It ain’t like I have a choice.” Adam said, his tone wasn’t as hostile as it started.

“You have the choice to leave this world behind, start anew with some loving wives, and forget your past.”

“You must think I’m stupid.” Adam snarled. “There ain’t no way you’re going to get me out of my sentence and give me a harem to boot. All from the goodness of your heart too, I’d wager.”

“That word is so amusing.” Spring closed the folder. “I love the way you young stallions think it means you’re making out like bandits. No, what I am proposing is that I marry you off to a group of wealthy young mares who will delight in having you for the rest of your life. It might be a gilded cage, but would you rather be bound by matrimony or by cold iron? From what we have observed, all sides are happy with the arrangement. You get your freedom, they get a willing husband, and your government doesn’t have to worry about rehabilitating you. Of course, our families back home are paid handsomely for our services.”

Adam looked at Spring with mistrust. “You’re just damned slavers!”

“We prefer the term ‘matchmakers’.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Aside from having to adjust to a new body, we have yet to find one.” Spring shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said everyone involved wasn’t waiting for some other horseshoe to drop. So, we are all laying low and doing our best not to draw the attention of the authorities from either world.”

Adam’s eyes went wide at the implications. “What if I say no?” he asked after wetting his lips.

“Then our friend here removes the memory of this conversation, and you make your way to breakfast none the wiser.” Spring said. “We provide only the best for our clients, meaning we don’t have to settle for those your psychiatrists don’t think are redeemable or those who would be troublesome because they want nothing to do with the deal.” Spring leaned back in her chair. “You may find it remarkable that we are willing to share one male among many. The thought of having a harem excites you. But please realize, we find it wonderful that one of you is willing to be with seven of us at once. Heck, we’ve found that we have to limit it to seven since human stallions are enthusiastic enough to try to manage even more than that. Truthfully, seven may be too much as it is.”

“What are you?” Adam demanded. “Some hideous bug-eyed monster?”

“Hideous?” Spring pursed her lips in displeasure. “No, those who have come before you have stated that they needed an insulin shot to protect them from the cuteness overload that is our true form. If you wish to insult, there is nothing stopping you from saying ‘no’.”

“Spring, look; it’s William,” Velvet Bridle said, peering out the still-open door. “It looks like they beat him up again. We need to help him.”

Spring sighed. “He’s already turned us down.”

“I don’t care.” Velvet Bridle sobbed. “We need to try again.” She turned to the witch. “Bring him over.”

The witch nodded and performed the necessary spells. Soon Adam watched another wander into the room with a dreamy expression. The newcomer was limping badly with one eye swollen shut. His face was more a purpling bruise than not.

“What?” he asked hesitantly, scanning the room.

“Here, let’s make this easier,” the witch said. “I only obliviated you the other day. I can clear that up easily enough.”

Two words later and William had tears in his eyes as he said, “I want to go with you, but I can’t leave. I’m all my younger brother has left.”

Spring smiled. “I think something can be arranged.”





Dexter couldn’t believe his luck. The heavy snows had made his morning walk treacherous, but he wasn’t willing to break his routine. How else was he going to keep up with his hobby? The decision was turning out to be the right one. The luscious blonde that had moved into the apartment building just down the block was out in front of the structure, scrabbling to retrieve the items that had escaped from her ripped grocery bag. With a jovial smile, he sauntered over to help her.

“Here, let me help you.” Dexter smiled as he picked up a can of tomato sauce.

“Why, thank you.” The blonde flashed him a dazzling smile that frankly should have been illegal. “Whoever you are, Ah have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

Dexter smiled back at her, feeling his confidence surge. “Well now, there’s no need for us to be strangers. My name is Jack.”

“My now, aren’t you just courteous as well as strong and handsome,” the blonde said seductively. “You may call me what mah friends call me, OB.”

“Your friends call you OB?” Dexter asked, collecting the last of the wayward groceries.

“That they do,” OB said with a move that hiked her skirt to show more skin than was modest. Grandfather Winter would have been displeased at the blatant disrespect for his season. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate your help in getting these things up to my apartment. I’m sure karma can be persuaded to put in an appearance.”

“I’m looking forward to that.” Dexter smirked, hungrily eyeing what was so willingly being put on display. There may have been other words exchanged on the way up, but he, frankly wasn’t paying to much attention to what was said.

“Here we are,” OB said, opening the door to her flat. It seemed to be decorated with shadows. It didn’t appear as if any of the curtains were open, and she had to have some thick ones, judging by the lack of sunlight filtering in. Dexter followed OB inside, noting that she didn’t bother to turn on the main lights and was instead relying on a soft green ambience that filled her home. The exaggerated seductive swinging of hips as she sauntered over to the counter separating the kitchen from her living room clearly displayed what she had in mind.

“It’s rather dark in here,” Dexter said, closing the door behind himself. Doing so brought to his attention a layer of unusual tacky substance covering the door and wall. “What’s this stuff?” he asked.

“It’s dark because we won’t be needing much light.” OB purred. Then, when she noticed what he was asking about she added. “That is just some useful substance that my family produces. It has many attributes, like sound dampening. Something that we’ll demonstrate soon. We wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors.”

The phrase “too good to be true” slipped through Dexter’s consciousness. An evil smile crossed his lips as he watched OB start to put away her groceries. “Is this where we make some small talk?” he asked. “Like, ‘what do you do for a living?’.”

“Oh, Ah help maintain the quality of the food supply,” OB said, her skirt definitely hiked up higher than it had been before, showing something black and lacey. “My part of the family has been doing it for generations, culling the bad apples.” A knowing giggle escaped her throat. “Celestia thinks that everything has gotten better solely on the merits of her ponies alone. She doesn’t know of the work that goes on behind the scenes.”

“Ponies?” Dexter asked, placing his burden on the counter next to the bag already there. “Are you one of these ponies they were talking about on the news?”

“Heavens no,” OB said.

Dexter let a sigh of relief escape; that was a complication he could do without. “So? Maintain the food quality?”

“Yes, this orchard needs pruning, so to speak.”

“Sounds tedious.” Dexter said, reaching toward the knife rack sitting on the counter. A wickedly sharp chef’s knife was soon in his hand.

“It is rewarding work, Dexter,” OB said, not turning to see what he was doing.

“What exactly does it entail?”

“Like Ah said, getting rid of bad apples, individuals who harm the collective and are a direct threat to the food supply.” OB shrugged. “Today, the first target is a serial murderer who has managed to avoid capture.”

Dexter stiffened, halting the inspection of the blade in his hand. “Really, are you a policewoman? How do you go about finding and capturing a murderer?”

“Oh, I have family members who can sense those who need to be pruned and, well, you are here aren’t you?” OB still didn’t turn to look at him. “Don’t worry; a Dexter shall be leaving the apartment soon enough to lead a much healthier and productive life. Pity it won’t be you.”

Dexter sucked in a breath and took a firm grip on the knife. “Lady, I don’t know what you are playing at, but I’m not amused.”

“Obvious Bait,” a voice behind him hissed. “Stop playing with the food.”

Dexter whirled and stared into the shadows only to find a dozen pairs of glowing, green, pupilless, eyes staring back at him.

Outside the flat, no one could hear him scream.





Accounting was supposed to be steady work. It was supposed to be nine to five, five days a week. He was supposed to be home on this frigid Saturday, not in the office after a triple-length commute through knee-deep snow.

The initial investigation had been swift and damning. The issue seemed damned trivial. There were no missing funds. There was no shrinkage in stock; in fact, the opposite was the case. The corporation yard had been blessed with tonnes of unaccounted soil. Building material didn’t spontaneously appear by magic, even though magic was real. There had to be a logical explanation. It had to be an accounting error.

All fingers had pointed to him. Now, he was stuck at his desk, bundled up like an eskimo, shuffling through receipts by torchlight. He sincerely wanted to strangle the bean counter who insisted that all anomalies had to be reconciled immediately. He sincerely wanted to strangle the idiot who insisted the department should save money by cutting off the utilities during non-working hours. 





The weather in Canterlot was perfect for the Hearth’s Warming holiday. The city was covered in pastern-deep snow, and there was just enough of a chill to keep it from melting. Everypony should have been in the holiday spirit, but trouble knew no season. Still, this situation seemed to be trivial, if not simply annoying.

In the living room of the modest mansion, a lemon-colored unicorn with three-toned hair sat on a large cushion and reflected on her worries. Had her mane been real, the intruder at the school would have been causing her to go prematurely gray. Technically, it violated no covenant. Technically, it posed no threat. The intruder was not even a member of a rival hive, and it was feeding on friends that had arrived with her instead of exploiting indigenous resources. However, the fool had been sitting on a wellspring of sustenance, much more than any one ling could manage. It was appalling how much she wasted. Her infiltrators had reported that the intruder was treating precious food like vomit and was literally flushing it down the drain. The situation was an affront to sensibilities.

That was the worse of it. The intruder didn’t know any better, and educating her was a needless and considerable security risk. Even though the hive wasn’t losing anything, it was being denied access to an amazing new resource. It was grating that everyling had to be ordered to give the intruder and her friends a wide berth. Centuries of security couldn’t be risked over something so trivial.

It was bucking annoying. There had to be some way to tap into the bounty. There had to be some way to get her to share.

She was broken out of her brooding by the arrival of a scout.

“My queen,” the red pegasus said, entering the room, “I have news.”

The lemon unicorn sighed. “Good news, I hope.”

“The hive is completely empty, my queen,” the pegasus said. “Not a ling to be found.”

“They finally starved out?” The unicorn grimaced, glad that it wasn’t her subjects.

“No, my queen, there were no bodies. They are just gone.”

“A hive that large cannot just pack up and leave unobtrusively,” the queen mused. “There are still no reports of population surges anywhere in the known territories?”

“No, my queen.”

“This is worrying,” the queen said to herself. “Chrysalis could not have just vanished off the face of Equestria.” Then, she commanded the drone. “Triple the patrols; the last thing we need is for a desperate army to suddenly appear on our doorstep.

“Yes, my queen.” The pegasus backed out of the room, bowing.





The cage was a gilded one, but it was still a cage. If her gaoler hadn’t provided some distraction, she would have gone mad long ago. The books were fascinating. The prisoner had more time on her hooves than she knew what to do with, so she read. Imagine, a whole new society populated by mythical humans. Their literature was captivating, with untold new ideas to explore.

Runes alone were well worth her scrutiny. They didn’t take much mana to initialize, and they could do so much, things she couldn’t do in her weakened state, things she couldn’t do with the inhibitors blocking her connection to magic.

A gentlemouse and scribe was her inspiration. What he could scrawl with his finger, she could scratch with a hoof. She could scratch the runes into the walls of her cell and cover with dust and decorations.

The ambient mana would be more than enough to power her constructs, but she couldn’t make them obvious. She couldn’t give away her scheme until she was ready to escape. Nopony, noling would be able to stop her once everything was set.

Such painstaking preparations would take time. Such time would try the patience of a saint. Such time was all she had.

Sighing, she turned the page.





What had he gotten himself into?

The woman who had entered his room hadn’t been anyone he had known. She hadn’t been introduced by his foster parents. She had just wandered into his room as if she owned the place with a look of pity on her face.

The woman had known exactly what to say. He had leapt at the chance to see Will again. There hadn’t been even a of hint of hesitation when he had reached for the flap on the pouch worn by the owl the woman had been carrying.

Now he was trapped in an enclosed space that shouldn’t exist, hoping beyond hope that he would be allowed to see his brother again.

Thankfully, the wait wasn’t long. The pouch regurgitated him onto a pile of cushions, and there was his objective, landing right beside him alongside another bloke wearing an outfit exactly like his brother’s. That didn’t matter; his brother was here.

“Will!” the eleven-year-old boy exclaimed, throwing himself at his last remaining family.

“Max!” Will said, wrapping his arms around the boy, tears evident in his eyes.

“That is so touching,” a female voice said sarcastically.

“Hush, Inner Radiance,” another female interjected. “You have no sense of sentiment whatsoever.”

“Whatever,” Inner Radiance sneered. “I don’t like the idea of such a young colt being involved. Just get them changed. I have mares waiting for their purchases.”

The other female snarled, “They’re ponies, not purchases. Or, they will be.”

Both Will and Max turned to see two unicorns looking at them. One had a pleasant smile and the other just scowled at them.

“You are cute,” the bloke who had come with Will said, taking in the appearance of the two miniature horses as he stroked the smiling mare’s withers.

“Flatterer,” the unicorn bearing the smile said, a blush marring her creamy coat. “Welcome to your new lives.”

“Get on with it.” The scowling unicorn snapped, “Time is money.”

“Right.” The smiling unicorn rolled her eyes before her horn lit up. “Brace yourselves; I’m about to send the change message, and the process is more than a little disquieting, but not painful.”

“Will, what’s going on?” Max managed to get out before he shrank, still holding onto his brother.

“I’ll explain later,” Will said, his features melting away.

“A pair of unicorns and a pegasus,” the still scowling Inner Radiance said. “I would have preferred all unicorns, but the pegasus does look yummy.”

The pegasus looked at his hoof before saying. “This isn’t so bad. Now, where is that harem I was promised?”

“It still amazes me how agreeable you human stallions are,” the smiling unicorn said. “If he were one of ours, he’d be whining over how much work we were going to impose on him. Most dream of only having one mare.”

“Funny definition of work, that,” the new pegasus stallion said.

“Whatever it is you are charging for this one isn’t enough by far,” the smiling unicorn said to Inner Radiance, nudging her with a knee.

“The trick is not to get greedy,” Inner Radiance berated, clearly getting impatient. “The longer we keep this operation out of the limelight, the more money we make in the long run. It’s not technically illegal, yet, Summer Frost.”

“I think you completely missed my meaning.” Summer Frost pouted as she traced her frog on the new pegasus’s croup. His wings snapped open in response.

“I know full well what you meant. Need I remind you to keep your hooves off the merchandise?”

“You’re no fun.” Summer Frost continued to pout.

“I’m not paying you to have fun. Get back to scouring those assessment records. I want a pair of stallions who are willing to share the same herd. I have no idea how those fillies pulled off having five, but I want at least two. I could charge five times the going rate with just that.” Inner Radiance turned to leave. “Follow me, it’s time for me to fulfill our half of the agreement,” she said to the males in the room. “You are going to get what you were promised. The mares are going to get what they paid for. And I’m going to get my bits.”

“I don’t like her,” Max said to his brother in a whisper, wobbling slightly on his new hooves.

“We don’t have to put up with her for long,” Will said. “Come on, we were promised a new caring family, and despite her attitude, I think she’ll deliver on the goods.”

“Hurry up now,” Inner Radiance called out over her shoulder. “I do have a social gathering to get ready for.”

The three new ponies climbed off the cushions and did their best to follow.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Max asked his brother as they trailed after Inner Radiance through what could only be described as an extravagant mansion.

“It gets me out of the Queen’s resort and you out of the foster home,” Will said. “Shouldn’t you be asking about why we are no longer human? I would have thought that would be your main concern.”

Max shrugged. “All they are talking about on the telly is ponies this and ponies that. I figure, if you can hack into a bank’s computer, you can hack into whatever’s needed to take care of us.”





If ever there were a perfect example of “money pit”, this was it. The Stuart Era manor had seen its prime long ago. Its plumbing had been put together by grace and by God, and its wiring was an arsonist’s dream. HVAC wasn’t even a distant dream. Where most saw disaster, others recognized opportunity. The manor grounds included meadows and woods, and the site was within walking distance of a quaint village, a perfect place to raise the children who would eventually be brought there to live.

For what they wanted, the place was practically perfect. They had plenty willing to invest the sweat equity needed to shape the manor to their needs. Soon enough, the land would be brimming with love. Their benefactor had already committed to the endeavor, and the solicitor had promised the paperwork would be filed on Monday.

Two men stood in front of the building, surveying the property.

“We sent out two more loads this morning,” one said casually. “I think we may need to find new places to dispose of the material; our current recipients are starting to think it’s mating season for the soil.”

“Who would have thought it would have been such a hassle getting rid of excess rock and dirt?” The second sighed. “Do what you need to; the tunnels must be dug. Just remember to be discreet.”

“I do know what I am doing.”

Another sigh. “I am aware. I just can’t help worrying that something will go wonky, as the locals say.”

“How much longer will the Queen be staying under the princesses’ noses? It seems like an unnecessary risk.”

“Not much longer. We have our hoofhold and won’t be going back. All that is left is to dig in.”

“You need to stop fretting. Everything is going exactly as planned.”

“I know; that’s what worries me.”





In another place, there lay a wide-open field covered in white, snow as far as the eye could see. Jack Frost and Grandfather Winter must be vying for the attention of Ice Queen here. Bleak and barren, no feature could be seen, except for the white — and one small speck of black? Was that a thumbnail-sized crystal? Wait, was that the shadow of a house nearby? No, I guess it was nothing.
> Chapter 76: A Lay In Sounds Preferred
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night would stay the wizarding world from their appointed times at the Ministry, despite the wishes of the workers there. With most people traveling by floo, the knee-high snow from yesterday’s storm was not a concern. Saturday mornings, however, would transform the offices into a ghost town. The wizard behind the desk took full advantage of the lull, sitting on a high stool behind the podium, rather than standing as was strictly proper. To pass the time, he critically evaluated the image on the extra-long insert in his magazine. He would surely memorize every nuance and every movement by the time his shift ended.

Mere words could not express his irritation when he hastily stuffed his magazine behind the counter and dismounted in response to the sound of approaching footsteps that announced the arrival of a witch dragging a young, towheaded boy behind her. That irritation quickly turned to concern when he noticed the panicked look on her face.

“Miss, is something the matter?”

Instead of answering, the witch whipped off her hat and presented her wand for inspection. The wizard ignored the offering and stared at the now-exposed shock of pink hair instead.

“You’re not going to start singing?” he asked.

To his dismay, music filtered up from nowhere, and she started to do just that. It was precisely like the rumors described. He was filled with the desire to listen and provide background vocals. A strange magic stirred his soul, compelling him to participate in an act he would normally never dream of outside his shower. Fearing the worst, he took out his own wand and just barely managed a stinging hex.

“Ouch!” The woman’s hand latched onto her arm where the spell had landed, and she began to rub. “Thanks, I needed that. I can’t believe I picked up that habit.”

“Not a problem,” the wizard said as the boy she had brought with her looked around in confusion. His next words marked him as muggleborn. “Just so you know, that line from the alien invasion movie has been copyrighted, even if you did change the next line to ‘and I don’t feel fine’.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she replied, still rubbing her arm. “Where is everybody?”

“It’s the weekend; I’d wager they are all home in bed, like I’d like to be.”

“At home?” the woman shrieked. “The statute of secrecy has gone belly up, and they are all at home having a lay in?”

“Oh, you’ll be wanting the obliviators then?” the wizard said, taking the woman’s wand from her limp grasp. “Let me just get this weighed for you and you can be on your way.”

“I don’t think the obliviators are going to be able to fix this mess.” She shook her head.

“Oh?” he asked as he put her wand on the scales. “You think they’re going to need the Unspeakables’ backup as well?”

“Do you know what CNN is?” she snapped.

The wizard blinked and then deflated. “Blimey, that’s it then, isn’t it? The snitch has been caught, hasn’t it?”

“The fat lady’s singing all right,” the woman agreed. “Hurry up with that. I need to get down to Auror central.”

The boy looked at her weirdly. “Why would a fat lady sing? Does it have anything to do with that music magic?”

“Not now, Draco,” the woman said. “Give the man your wand; we have to hurry.”





Hermione rubbed some sleep out of her eyes as she opened the front door of her house. “Aunt Grace?” she asked blearily. “What are you doing here so early?”

“We’ve been driving all night,” the boy, a year younger than Hermione, said from behind the frantic-looking woman on the doorstep. “Could you let us in? It’s cold out here.”

“Sure, come in. Let me get you some tea,” Hermione said, stepping to the side. “Why were you driving all night in the storm?”

“I need to speak to your father,” Aunt Grace said wearily. “Please go get him.”

“I don’t think he’s up yet.” Hermione hid a yawn behind her hand.

“This is important.” Aunt Grace said. “Please go wake him.”

“I’ll do that,” Hermione said. “Have a seat in the living room. You look like you’re ready to fall over any second.”

“Thanks, that’s a dear,” Aunt Grace said, starting to take her boots off. “Everything has gone to pieces, and we really need Dan’s advice.”

“I’ll go get him,” Hermione said and rushed up the stairs without another word. She raced down the hall and barged into her parents’ room, worried about her aunt. “Mum! Dad!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly, intent on waking them up. She found that she didn’t need to, and her next words were filled with shock. “Mum! Dad!”

“Hermione!” Emma gasped. “Good morning. Um, we were just . . . wrestling.”

"Freestyle," Dan added limply.

Hermione clapped her hand over her eyes. “We’ve already had that talk; I know what’s what.”

“That’ll teach you to knock,” Dan said with a chuckle.

“Aunt G . . .grace is d . . . downstairs and she looks to b . . .be in a b . . .bad way,” Hermione stammered. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go have Madam Pomfrey obliviate me once or twice.” With those words, she streaked from the room, slamming the door behind her. That didn’t prevent her parents from hearing her cry out. “The horror! The horror!”

“Eh, she’ll get over it,” Emma said. “I guess we’ll have to put off using pony forms, though.”

Dan pursed his lips. “You don’t think she was serious about getting obliviated?”

“I doubt they use that spell that frivolously,” Emma said. “Remember the letter we got the last time it happened?”

“Right, then. We should probably get downstairs and see what has my sister in a tizzy. It’s a good drive even in the best of conditions.”

Emma sighed. “She could have better timing. I’m sure she can wait a few.”





Nymphadora rushed into Auror Central, dragging Draco behind her. She did a quick tally of the skeleton crew present before darting up to the wizard in charge. “Penman!” she exclaimed. “Quick, what’s bigger than a mackerel?”

“Bigger than a mackerel? Are you playing at being a Ravenclaw?” Penman said, looking at someone he wasn’t expecting to see anytime soon. “By the way, good to see you too, Tonks.”

“No, you twit,” Nymphadora said. “I mean the bloody protocol names. What’s bigger than a mackerel?”

Penman took in Nymphadora’s appearance before placing his wand toward his throat. “Sonorus!” he snapped. With voice amplified, he cried, “We have a mackerel! Call everyone in for disaster stations, and I do mean everyone!” After cancelling the spell, he fixed Nymphadora with a steely gaze. “Explain.”

“A mackerel isn’t going to be enough,” Nymphadora said. “That only refers to one city breaching the statute.”

“That’s the highest level we have. They haven’t updated those procedures in eighty years,” Penman snapped. “Just how bad is it?”

“We’ve got a whole school of mackerels then.”

“How big of a school?” Penman barked, brooking no foolishness.

“How many cities are there on the planet?” Nymphadora asked.





Hermione wandered into the living room where her aunt had collapsed onto the chair nearest the new fireplace. “They’ll be down in a bit,” she said listlessly.

Aunt Grace took one look at Hermione and broke out laughing. “I suppose they will be,” she managed to get out. “Oh, you poor dear. I had a similar experience with your grandparents when I was about your age.”

“It’s not funny,” Hermione huffed.

“Sorry,” Aunt Grace said. She didn’t stop laughing, though she did manage to tone it down.

“I’ll have you know; I’m scarred for life.”

“Yes, dear, I know,” Aunt Grace gasped apologetically.

“You could be a little more sympathetic.” Hermione pouted.

Aunt Grace snored lightly in response.

Hermione blinked in surprise. “I’ve never heard of anyone laughing themselves to sleep before.”

“She’s really tired,” Hermione’s cousin said. “She has been up all night worrying and driving, after all. What was she laughing about anyway?”

Hermione winced. “I’m not going to explain that one to you, so don’t ask. Why aren’t you as tired as her, Hector?”

Hector shrugged. “I slept in the car.”

“That always makes me more tired than not,” Hermione said. “Do you know what’s got your mum so worried?”

“It was the news. They’re saying magic is real, and, well, we got this letter the other day that we were sure was a lark.”

“Letter?”

“Yeah, just a sec.” Hector got out of his seat and went over to open his mother’s purse.

“I’m sure she won’t appreciate you rummaging around in there,” Hermione scolded.

“The letter has my name on it; I’m sure Mum won’t mind.” Hector said. “I’d rather not wake her.”

“How considerate,” Hermione drawled. She gasped when Hector withdrew a familiar-looking letter. “You’ve got your Hogwarts letter!”

“You know what this is?” Hector blinked.

“Of course, I do!” Hermione said excitedly. “Oh, this is wonderful! I hope you’re in Gryffindor! We need to get you supplies! And a trunk! Oh, and an owl! Let me go get my coat! We only have nine months to prepare!”

Hector decided to sit in his recently-vacated chair and let his cousin calm down. The way she ripped out of the room suggested it might take a minute or two.

“Mum!” he heard Hermione call from the other room. “Hector and I are going out for a bit.”

“Okay, dear,” his aunt called from somewhere upstairs. “Don’t forget to bundle up.”

Hermione tore back into the room holding both of their coats and tossed Hector his boots. “Here, put them on.”

“I could have gotten them myself instead of stomping through the house to get to the front door,” Hector said even as he complied.

“We’re not using the front door,” Hermione said, pulling on her coat but not zipping it.

“You are bonkers, you know,” Hector said.

“And you are a brat,” Hermione answered, taking the lid off a pot resting on the mantel. She took out a pinch of green powder. “Leaky Cauldron!” she called out after tossing the powder into the cold hearth.

Hector was impressed by the green flames that sprouted. Curiosity peaked, he bent over to investigate. “Woah, wicked!” were his last words before Hermione booted him into the flames.





Amelia Bones was not happy. Being called into the office for a supposed mackerel was not how she wanted to start the day, especially after offering a sacrifice to the porcelain god. She was desperately hoping the auror dropout who had sounded the alarm was overreacting. Otherwise, the city-wide rainmaker needed to cover all of London would have to be dusted off. While it was truly a work of art, one crafted in response to that debacle in New York all those years ago, it only had a few charges, and it cost the DMLE's annual budget to run. Using that to correct the memories of everyone in London would require far more paperwork than a mere mortal could endure.

Historians would later argue that it was an exaggeration to say that the ground shook when she stormed over to where Tonks was talking to Penman, but they would be wrong. “Report!” Amelia snapped.

“It’s all over the telly,” Tonks said before Penman could speak up. “They’ve been talking about it all night. The muggle Prime Minister even gave a speech welcoming us back into society.”

Amelia pursed her lips together. “How many muggles saw?”

“All of them.”

“I’m going to end up approving a lot of overtime for this.” Amelia sighed. “How many cities were affected?”

“All of them.”

“You have to be exaggerating.” Amelia firmly said.

“Not by much.”

Amelia sighed. “I suppose it’s convenient that we don’t have a telly handy to support your claims.”

“We could go back to the café.” 

“Actually,” Draco spoke up, “they have a telly in the Gryffindor common room.”

“They have a working telly at Hogwarts?” Amelia asked. “Since when?”

“Since the beginning of the year,” Draco said before pouting. “We’re not allowed to watch anime without a prefect present anymore.”

Amelia blinked and then went to floo Professor McGonagall.





In stately Black Manor, Andi was sitting at the breakfast table, finishing a quick meal before heading off for her shift. Despite having established schedules, healers were never truly off duty. Even the most senior could count on being called in on a moment’s notice if the situation warranted it. Still, they maintained the illusion that they could truly schedule time for themselves, and Andi was still hoping that after she completed her ninth year of service, she could actually get one weekend off per month. Harsh experience had taught her that weekends were the worst time for her ilk; her superiors were incredibly adept at vanishing during those times, while bacteria, bad luck, and stupidity never slept.

She scarcely looked up from her meal when an owl landed on the back of the adjacent chair. “Good morning, Owlowiscious. I see Twilight wants to get an early start with Sirius today. Would you care for some bacon?”

“Who,” Owlowiscious said agreeably.

“Just let me get her out of there first,” Andi said, tapping her wand on Owlowiscious’s pouch. “Ex dimittere.”

The pouch filled the room with its customary, boorish din before Andi started keeping company with a unicorn who was definitely not the Twilight she knew. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly.

“Why hello there,” the unicorn said. “That was not nearly as exciting as crossing dimensions should be. I was expecting flashing lights, maybe a good amount of shaking. Is it asking too much for just a little drama to go along with the commute?”

“I’m sure that the craftsman who made the pouch could add some bells and whistles if asked,” Andi said.

“Hmm,” The mare said, studying Andi. “I wasn’t expecting human stallions to look so feminine. I’d say you look closer in appearance to a minotaur cow than a bull.” 

“That is because I identify as female,” Andi said dryly.

“Oh?” The unicorn blushed and brought a hoof to cover her mouth. “You’re not Sirius Black? Did I get the wrong destination?” 

“Sirius is still upstairs sleeping, if I were to guess,” Andi said. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Of course, you may,” The mare said with a wide grin. “I should have gotten that out of the way first thing. My name is Twilight Velvet.”

“Nice to meet you,” Andi said. “Based on that name and the familial resemblance, I’m going to assume you are Twilight Sparkle’s sister.”

“What a delightful complement,” Twilight Velvet said. “I’m not her sister; Twiley is my daughter. With her and Shiny poring over some crystals, I thought I’d just pop over and introduce myself to her stallion.”

“Oh,” Andi said, resolving to call in to work and take time off for a family emergency. This was sure to be more than worthy of her pensieve. “Does Twilight know you’re here?”

“Well, she was preoccupied when I asked her how she went about visiting her Sirius. And, when she’s focused like that, she does have a tendency to answer questions without considering them too closely. I figure I have about fifteen minutes before the realization hits her. Factor in that she’s been up all night and is fresh out of coffee, and I might squeeze out a half hour.”

“I see. Have you had breakfast yet?” Andi asked. “I can have Kreacher bring you something while we wait for Sirius to come down.”

“Oh, you needn’t bother,” Twilight Velvet said. “My foals might have cluttered up the kitchen with their project but my husband went out to pick up some pastries.”

“I see; shall I get Kreacher to go fetch the victim then?” 

“That would be marvelous.”





A pristine white unicorn with carefully-coiffed mane and tail was surprised to find a human and a royal guard at her front door well before opening. This didn’t stop her from flashing a welcoming smile. “Good morning gentlestallions. I'm afraid we shan't be ready for business for at least an hour, but you are welcome to browse in the showroom until then.”

“Good morning Lady Belle,” the human replied. “I am Lord Greengrass. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Ah, Lord Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass’s father,” Lady Belle said, subconsciously fluffing her coat. “The pleasure is mine. Please, I am simply 'Rarity'. We were just about to break our fast. I would be overjoyed if you were to join us.”

“I am afraid I must decline your gracious invitation,” Lord Greengrass said. “My wife is sitting with our youngest and has been ever since we have arrived. I must coax her into exploring the rooms that Princess Celestia has set aside for us so that she may get a proper meal and some rest that doesn’t include dozing on a much too small chair. I merely came by to ascertain that my daughter has not been an undue burden.”

“Daphne has been a delightful guest,” Rarity said, taking a few steps back and gesturing into her home. “Please come in. I understand humans are less comfortable in cold weather, and it would be rude of me to keep you standing out there.”

“Thank you . . . Rarity.” Lord Greengrass had to duck to fit through the doorway, but found plenty of headroom on the inside.

“Won’t you join us as well?” Rarity asked the guard. 

“My post is outside,” the guard returned before taking position by the front door.

“Very well, darling,” the unicorn said. “But I want you to promise if you find yourself getting cold that you’ll come in right away. You’re no good to anypony frozen to the bone.”

“Yes ma’am,” the guard replied. “I’ll be just fine.”

Rarity ushered Lord Greengrass into the generous kitchen, where a pair of unicorn fillies were daintily dining. Lord Greengrass frowned when he saw that the one with the yellow coat was grazing.

“Daphne,” Lord Greengrass said, “you’ve been taught better than that. Use your silverware.”

“Father?” Daphne gasped, raising her muzzle from her plate.

“I must protest,” Rarity said, taking her place at the table. “She is using proper etiquette for a young filly who has yet to learn how to use her horn.”

“I defer to your expertise.” Lord Greengrass bowed his head slightly to the white mare. “I merely wanted her to display proper manners.”

“You can rest assured that she has been a most delightful guest,” the mare insisted.

“Good morning, Father.” Daphne said, not returning to her meal. “How is Astoria?”

“I hope she’s feeling better,” the other filly said, concern evident in her voice. “Daphne’s been so worried about her.”

“Good morning to each of you as well. Astoria has awakened for the first time this morning,” Lord Greengrass replied, giving each filly an acknowledging nod. “The doctor has said that she is recovering without complications. She is projected to be recovered enough to leave the hospital early tomorrow.”

“That is wonderful news,” Rarity said. “I’m afraid I’d be a frightful mess if Sweetie were to be in a similar position.”

“Your concern is most welcome,” Lord Greengrass said, “as is your assistance in looking after Daphne. It is a joyous occasion that Astoria has hope for the first time."

“I am happy for you,” Rarity replied. “Daphne Greengrass is welcome to stay as long as needed.”

“Thank you, Lady Rarity. Now I apologize for this hasty visit, but I must attend to my wife. Before I go, please allow me to invite you to our manor next week. My wife and I would love the chance to entertain you properly as thanks for your unsolicited generosity. We would relish the opportunity to get to know you and yours better.”

The unicorn mare blushed. “I’m not sure . . .” she started.

“I must insist, my dear lady.”

“Then I have no choice, but to accept.”

“I shall owl you after conferring with my wife, and we shall set a date.”

“That is acceptable.” Rarity blushed deeper.

“I look forward to your future company. I shall be taking my leave now. Daphne, be on your best behavior.”

“Yes, Father,” Daphne said as her hostess hurriedly abandoned her seat to escort the human to the front door.





“Hello there, welcome to our home,” Spike said cheerfully as the woman picked herself up off the floor. “I hope you brought more love honey; my supply got used up.”

“Spike,” Andi said, “Nymphadora pukes that stuff up.”

“I know all about the birds and the bees,” Spike said. "Besides, that stuff is great!"

“You aren’t going to get me to try it,” Andi said, grimacing.

“Your loss.” Spike shrugged. “What’s up?”

“I need to speak to Twilight.” Andi said.

“She and Shiny are in the kitchen, making a mess.”

“Take me to her,” Andi urged.

“Okay, follow me,” Spike said as Owlowicious started on the strip of bacon he had been carrying.

The kitchen was indeed a mess. Many arcane and complicated constructs that were far beyond the ken of a mere Ravenclaw, let alone a Slytherin, littered the table, counter, and floor. The two unicorns in the room were concentrating on several crystals strewn about the table, not even looking up when Spike and Andi entered the room.

“Twilight, do you have a moment?” Andi asked.

“Oh, hi Andi,” Twilight said, not looking up. “I’m kind of busy at the moment; can it wait?”

“I just thought I’d let you know that I left your mother in the dining room of 12 Grimmauld Place,” Andi said. “She wants to meet Sirius.”

“That’s nice,” Twilight said as she triple-checked her calculations on a scroll she floated up to eye level.

The stallion standing next to her stopped what he was doing to fix Andi with all of his attention. “Give her five seconds.”

“That must be some interesting work,” Andi observed. 

“Yes, we’re using the unique readings we have to create . . .” Twilight stopped mid-sentence, eyes going wide as her pupils shrank to pinpricks.

“My bad,” the stallion said. “That only took three. I’m coming along, by the way; this may be my only chance to play imposing older brother.”





Dan gently shook his sister. “Grainy . . . Grainy . . . wake up. You’re going to get stiff if you sleep like that.”

Grace started awake and fixed her bleary gaze on her brother. “Dan?”

“Who else?”

“Let me sleep.”

“You can take the bed in the guest room. I’m sure it’s more comfortable. But first, what got it into your head to risk driving all night in a storm?”

Grace forced herself more awake. “Dan, I’m scared. Magic is real, and Hector may be a witch. I got a strange letter claiming to be from a school that teaches magic. I was just going to ignore it and not be home when it said we would be contacted, but now . . . Magic is real. There are alien ponies on Earth.”

“I thought those all went out during summer break,” Dan mused. “Still, you didn’t have to drive all that way. Besides, unless Hector's been hiding something, there's no way he could be a witch.”

“The world is going to change, Dan,” Grace said, even more awake. “They want my Hector to be square in the middle of it. I don’t think you could understand how frightening that is.”

“I’m sure we can relate,” Emma said, walking into the room. “Coffee will be ready in a few. I didn’t see the kids in the garden; they must be out front.”

“You can relate?” Grace said. “I don’t think so. They want my son to go to school with alien ponies. Can you imagine that? Alien ponies. What if they bite?”

Emma was about to respond when green flames flashed into existence in the fireplace. “Hermione?” inquired a disembodied voice.

“She’s outside with her cousin playing in the snow, Luna,” Emma said to the flames as Grace stared in surprise. “Give me a moment, and I’ll go get her.”

“Um,” the voice from the flames said. “Daddy rushed out of the house; he seemed upset and he told me to floo to the Weasleys and stay there all day. I think he forgot that they were all on vacation.”

“I have a good idea why he’s upset,” Emma said. “You are welcome to come through and stay with us.”

“Thank you,” Luna said and popped out of the flames, only to fly up and attach herself to the ceiling.

“You know,” Emma said, “there has got to be some kind of time dilation going on here. I know going through the floo takes a while, yet from the outside it seems almost instantaneous.” She turned her attention back to Grace. “But I digress; you were saying?”

“I almost feel as if I should accuse you of setting me up,” Grace said, eyeing the newcomer on the ceiling. “Those teeth do nothing to allay my fears, though.”

“What’s wrong with my teeth?” Luna asked innocently.

“Nothing dear. You have beautiful teeth,” Emma said. “I should know; it is my profession after all.”

Grace groaned and shifted in her chair. “Prestigious school in Scotland? Hermione goes to Hogwarts. How long were you going to let me make a fool of myself?”

“We were just letting you get it out of your system,” Dan said smugly.

“Whatever. I can’t handle this right now. I need a few hours’ sleep first.”

“Let me help you up the stairs,” Dan said.

“Would you like something to eat first?” Emma asked.

“No.”

“How about you? Have you eaten breakfast, Luna?” 

“Not yet, Mrs. Granger,” Luna said cheerfully.

“You’ll be joining us then.”

“Will there be mangos?” Luna asked hopefully.

“Mangos?” Emma asked.

“Yes, I’d never had any before, and Mrs. Bates gave some to us for lunch yesterday. They are really good, better than even pudding.”

“Sorry, I don’t have any in the house at the moment,” Emma said.

“Oh, pooh!” Luna pouted.

Dryly, Grace asked, "Are we quite finished with surprises?"

Fingering a necklace, resting on the mantel, Dan replied, “That depends on how you feel about being a little horse.”
> Chapter 77: Chocolate Mint Confections
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As she looked over the holly and tinsel that decorated her shop, Mystic Books sighed. It was time for a cup of cheer, or perhaps just a jigger; it would not do to start the workday inebriated. Hearth's Warming was mere days away, so she had no expectations of any customers until after that holiday. Specializing in components was both a blessing and a curse. Since ponies used her wares to make custom presents, her holiday customers came in weeks earlier than they would for an ordinary retailer. Conversely, her holiday sales tapered off weeks earlier than they did for an ordinary retailer. So, close to the holiday, the best she could hope for was a panicked hobbyist shopping for a replacement for a critical component that they had installed in just the wrong way.

The melodic jangle of sleigh bells startled her from her reverie as her first, and quite possibly last, customer of the day stumbled through her door.

Mystic rushed over to help the fallen unicorn. With a smile, she said, "Bonjour. Welcome to Enchantment Essentials."

Unsteadily, the unicorn rose to her hooves. "What?" Turning to Mystic, she struggled to focus. "Is this Essentially Enchanted?"

"Assez proche." Mystic Books eyed the unicorn critically. “If you do not mind me saying, you look à l’ouest, er, frazzled. Is everything all right.”

“What?” The unicorn appeared startled by the words. She shook her head before focusing on Mystic. “Yes. Yes. I’m okay. I’ve just had an unbelievable night. Luckily, I have a day off today.”

“You do look as if you could use the break,” Mystic said.

“I don't know how much more I can take. This is my last stop before I can go home and have some liquid stress relief.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Mystic pursed her lips. “Perhaps it would be better if you talk about it instead.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” Mystic trotted behind the counter and retrieved two shot glasses and a green bottle of creme de menthe decorated with a festive red ribbon and bow. She might not be getting a sale, but playing bartender could still make the day profitable in a different way.

“I don’t know where to begin,” the unicorn said, staggering along until she could lean on the other side of the counter. “My last day at work was already all kinds of crazy.”

“Work can be stressful,” Mystic agreed.

"No argument here. The weirdness meter wrapped its needle just when I was about to head for home." The mare greedily eyed the bottle. “There I was, minding my own business, dreaming about my bed when a filly appeared in front of me in a ball of flames.”

Mystic gasped in horror. “Comme c’est terrible. I hope she wasn’t badly hurt.”

“No, she was completely unscathed. She was using the fire to travel.”

“You can do that?” Mystic asked.

“Apparently, yes.” The unicorn took the proffered shot glass and took a verdant sip and sighed. “She asked me if I was a doctor. When I said yes, she grabbed me and teleported us.” She slurped a bit more. “I should mention, she was a human filly. If I hadn’t spent the prior eight hours in the presence of a human stallion, I probably would have freaked out.”

“A human filly?” Mystic took a sip of her own. “I had a human mare in my shop recently, so I do have some reference.”

“Would you believe the human stallion was more likable than our own Dr. Splint?”

“Oui, that is not hard to imagine. The mare I met was amiable.”

“Anyway, the filly took me to a human hospital. She wanted my help saving the life of a stallion who had been attacked by a vicious animal. The human healers were fighting a losing battle, and she thought I might be the push they needed, differing medical backgrounds and all that.”

“Please tell me you were able to make the difference.” Mystic would have been on the edge of her seat if she weren’t standing.

“I can’t make that claim. If it weren’t for the phoenix, we would have lost the patient.”

“I can see why you found that stressing,” Mystic confessed.

The unicorn took another sip. “That’s part of the job and all. Unfortunately, we can’t save everypony. It hurts like Tartarus each time, but it's something you have to learn to live with or find another line of work.”

“You are a better mare than I,” Mystic said.

“Hardly,” the unicorn said. “Anyway, they offered me a cot to sleep through the night, since the filly who had brought me had disappeared with her friends. Things were mostly uneventful. Well uneventful in the sense that things had become non- life-threating.”

“I guess being in a hospital full of humans would be exciting,” Mystic said.

“The humans were perfectly welcoming.” A shake of her head preceded another sip.

“Then what?”

“Have you ever heard of the Element of Laughter? Pinkie Pie?”

“Of course, I have,” Mystic said.

“The rumors don’t do her justice.” The unicorn shook her head. “Not by a long shot.”

“Oh,” Mystic said. “I suppose you didn’t get much sleep.”

“I got plenty. I just woke up to a bunch of frosted human healers.”

“The heater broke?” Mystic asked.

“No, I meant with rainbow sprinkles and a cherry on top.” The unicorn emptied her shot glass.

“She really does that?” Mystic shuddered. “Ponyville must go through shampoo like crazy.”

“Anyway, the filly who had brought me had come and gone while I slept. I had no idea how I was getting home.

“Well, you’re here now, so I assume you thought of something,” Mystic said.

“The healers directed me to a friend of the first filly by the name of Lavender Brown.”

“I’ve met her,” Mystic said. “Talk about having parents without even a hint of imagination when it comes to choosing names.”

“Yeah, well, she has an owl that she can use to send things, even ponies.”

“I’ve met it,” Mystic said.

“Well, she asked me to stop by and order three more packages like the others she has already gotten. That’s why I’m here; she’ll pick them up in a couple days if that’s all right.”

“Oui, I know what she wants.” Mystic refilled both shot glasses. Her guest already looking steadier. “That doesn’t explain why you looked so frazzled. The ride in the owl’s pouch couldn’t have been that bad.”

“She said she was mailing me to a friend she has in Canterlot,” the unicorn said with more than a hint of bitterness.

“I thought you wanted to return to Canterlot,” Mystic said.

“SHE MAILED ME TO THE PRINCESS!”

Mystic lost her grip on the bottle and it fell to the counter gleefully spreading its green goodness.

“I’m not even sure which one!” the unicorn continued. “All three were there having breakfast!”

Mystic’s jaw dropped next.

“They asked if I wanted to eat with them!”

Mystic’s rump found the ground.

“By the way, the princesses want four additional packages put together.”

“You must be joking,” Mystic said softly.

“Nope, and Princess Celestia said if you have a problem with Lavender’s promissory notes because the filly doesn’t have a cutie mark, not to worry and just talk to Raven. Apparently, the filly is good for it.”

“Arrêtez de raconter des salades; that cannot be,” Mystic said with more force.

“Nope, she dumped me right in the princesses’ private quarters without so much as a warning. I hope you have something stronger back there.”

Mystic brought out a mason jar filled with clear liquid. “Tout à fait.”





It should have come as no surprise that Twilight Sparkle had no problem shrinking the new greenhouse on the Apple farm to a manageable size. Now that it was at the proper scale, it leant a rustic ambiance to an already picturesque venue. The lightly trampled snow that surrounded it emphasized that this was a working farm, not some noblepony's playground. A pony could be forgiven for thinking that it was a symbol of bucolic bliss.

*Crash!*

*Aaaaaa!*

That same pony could be forgiven for fleeing in panic when forcibly reminded that the Crusaders were home for winter break.

The sleeping tree experienced deja vu as a collision on its trunk resolved the small orange blur, which had just shattered a large pane, into a pegasus filly. This time, there was no shower of snow to mark her arrival. It seemed like just yesterday a much larger orange filly had ended her flight in the same way.

“Watch it!” The voice of another filly came from the newly formed egress. “It’s gotten loose.”

An unearthly voice, something between a roar and a gargled hiss, vehemently protested.

“To tha left! To tha left! Everypony to tha left!”

The ground shook as something heavy lashed out and missed.

“Mah left!”

Scootaloo launched herself from the dozing tree, dodging a clay pot her opponent had thrown at her as she zipped through the now-empty frame, back into the fray.

“It’s got the fertilizer!”

*Crash!*

Another pane disintegrated as Ron made another exit, rolling along the ground like a bowling ball.

“Ron! Go git a flame thrower!”

“On it!” Ron got up, shook himself and started galloping in the direction of the farmhouse. He passed the ponies running from his destination, intent on seeing what was causing the ruckus.

The chilling howl came again.

“It’s got me!” screamed a panicking filly.

“I’m coming Ginny!” Percy shouted, diving into the building without a thought for his own safety.

The glass ceiling was finally broken by a small red bundle with a blonde mane.

“I'm okay!” Ginny called out as she reached her apex. A rainbow-colored blur saved her from the inevitable letdown.

“What the buck is that!” Gracious Tact demanded, following Percy. “It’s huge!”

“To tha right! To tha right!”

Bristle gave the greenhouse some more ventilation before landing with a whump.

“Mah right! Dang it! Ain’t nopony going ta bother ta listen?!”

“What in tarnation!” Applejack demanded, leaping into the building.

The howl came again.

“All first-years out!” Percy yelled. “Incendio!” The glow of flames could be seen through the glass.

“To tha left! To tha left!”

*Crash!*

Dainty Lace was glad Rainbow Dash kept her from becoming the mare who fell to Equestria.

“Am Ah talking to mahself!?”

A crate smashed through another pane.

“Y'all heard Percy! Out!” Applejack shouted.

*Crash!*

Percy made another involuntary exit.

“That thar was an exclamation point not a comma!” Applejack shouted.

“To tha left! To tha left!”

*Crash!*

It was Applejack’s turn to be caught by Rainbow Dash.

“Really! Are Y'all yanking my tail?!”

Rainbow had just deposited Applejack on the ground when Ron came running up with a firefighter's fickle friend, pointing away from anything valuable.

“Gimme that!” Applejack said, claiming the load for herself as she transformed into her bipedal form. “It’s got mah hat!”

“To tha right! To tha right!”

*Crash!*

Gracious Tact found a higher calling.

“You all should start listening to her,” Rainbow growled, leaping into the air.

“Ah said out, Apple Bloom!” Applejack called out as she reentered the building. More flames could be seen.

Apple Bloom looked over her shoulder as she rushed out with Scootaloo at her side. “To tha right! To tha right!”

*Crash!*

A collection of tanks and tubes rocketed straight up, and Rainbow kept her distance as it erupted into a ball of flames.

“Ah give up!” Apple Bloom shouted. “Ron we’re going ta need another flame thrower!”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Ron growled, turning to run back toward the farmhouse.

“Gimme mah hat ya fireproof varmint!”

With a crack, Fenton’s wife, Sandra, apparated onto the field. “Are you kidding me?!” she called out as she rushed into the greenhouse, followed closely by Rainbow Dash. A violet flash cleared their path.

The unearthly sounds abruptly stopped. The gathered ponies watched from a distance as another violet flash illuminated the scene. Yet a third violet flash illuminated Ron as he sprinted back, careful to keep his finger out of the trigger guard. Soon after, three ponies -- Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Sandra -- came trotting over.

“That was seventh year herbology all over again,” Sandy growled. “Where did you get it? They can get irritable when they are potted incorrectly.”

“It was in with the starter plants.” Ginny said.

“Are you serious?!” Sandy shouted. “Let me see the invoice.”

“Here ya go,” Apple Bloom said, hoofing a sheet of paper from her bow.

Sandra read through, line by line. “Someone seriously messed up your order. It’s illegal to sell those to anyone who doesn't have a N.E.W.T. in herbology.”

“I’m rethinking getting a herbology N.E.W.T.,” Percy said.

“You are not getting a herbology N.E.W.T.,” Dainty Lace affirmed with conviction.

“Next question,” Rainbow Dash said, pointing a hoof at Ron’s weapon and raising an eyebrow.

“Those?” Apple Bloom said. “We’ve had ta keep them hidden in a trunk ever since they got banned. We neva even got the chance ta test them.”

“One word,” Rainbow said. “And that word is ‘gimme’.”

“Sure,” Apple Bloom said. “We have spares, Y'all can have one.”

“Ah think Ah’m going to start a collection of 'em. As in all of 'em.” Applejack said firmly.

“Awwww!” the foals chorused.

“Is that a foal running toward us?” Sandy said, pointing a hoof.

“It’s Daphne,” Scootaloo said. “I wonder what she wants.”

“One way to find out,” Rainbow said before she zipped over, scooped up Daphne, and returned to her starting point in three seconds flat.

“What’s up Daphne?” Apple Bloom asked.

“R . . . Rarity needs you,” the breathless filly said. “Sweetie tried . . . cake . . . Code Black!”

Rainbow Dash and Applejack looked at each other then made a mad dash towards town. Rainbow came back a few seconds later to deposit Daphne next to the rest of the foals before taking off again after patting her head.

“She can’t be that bad of a cook,” Sandy said as the foals started galloping toward town as well. “Hey! Come back! Someone has to reparo the greenhouse!” When nopony listened, she shouted. “All right, but I’m charging holiday rates for this.”





Contrary to popular belief, the Weasley twins could outstudy a Ravenclaw if they were properly motivated. The situation they now faced could cost them everything they knew and loved. Ever conscious of the nooses around their necks, the two pored over an ancient tome, desperate to find a way out of their predicament.

The sitting room in the trunk had been set up as the ultimate study space. The silencing charm had been the first step in their study preparation. They had carefully stowed all distractions and set the couch cushions to allow both of them to study the book from a comfortable position. Light, bland snacks kept hunger at bay.

With their attentions focused on the task at hand, the dust that gathered around them went unnoticed until a sneezing fit alerted them to its presence. Looking up, they could see the lid of the trunk silently vibrating like the head of a bass drum. Hastily, Fred threw the couch back together and hastily shoved the book under a cushion while George raced up the stairs, cancelling the charm as he went.

“Granny Smith,” he said after lifting the lid. “Did you need us for something?”

Looking up, the mare said, "My, yer a tall drink a water. Ah, figured Ah would come see what y'all were up to, being that the commotion outside didn’t raise a squeak out of ya.” The elderly mare barged past George, forcing him to flatten himself against the wall.

“We’re just doing some research,” Fred said.

“What type o research might that be?” Granny asked, taking in the cluttered sitting room. “Anything ta do with all them fillies y'all got hanging on yer every word?”

The twins shared a look before Fred said, “They're nothing like the witches back at Hogwarts.”

George added, “We aren’t sure how to handle the mess we have gotten ourselves into.”

Fred groaned, "I just don't know what went wrong."

"At least yer smart enough to realize yer in over yer head,” Granny said, sitting in one of the comfy chairs. “Care to explain exactly what y'all were thinking, making promises like that?”

The twins shared another look. “We may have gotten advice that is proving detrimental to our current objectives,” George said.

“Would it happen to be from that book yer trying to hide beneath that thar cushion?”

The twins groaned when they saw they had left the job half done.

“Well hoof it here,” Granny said, gesturing with a forehoof.

George grimaced but obeyed.

Granny smacked her lips and squinted at the cover. “Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches?” She said, “This oughtta be good. Sonny, go get mah reading glasses. They're by mah rocker.”

“Yes Granny,” George said, making his way up the stairs.

“Where did ya get this?” Granny asked.

“It's a Gryffindor heirloom that's traditionally 'borrowed' from the seventh-year boy's prefect as a last resort,” Fred admitted. “We may have acquired it a little earlier than is the norm.”

“Ah see. An’ how does it do fer the witches?”

“Don't believe the title; there's no magic in it,” Fred said. “We think witches change their tastes as they get older because the number of slaps we receive decrease the higher in years our test subjects are.”

“Test subjects?” Granny said, turning the book over in her hooves. She waited in silence for a response, even after George returned with her glasses. Seeing that no answers were forthcoming, she wore the glasses and opened the book to the largest bookmark.

The twins fidgeted and nervously watched, unsure how to react as she silently moved her lips.

“Ooo weee,” Granny whistled. “If’n the rest is as bad as this little bit . . .” She closed the book. “Ah’ll tell ya what, it won’t take no twelve ways to charm no fillies if ya go with this here book. Y'all will be beating them off with sticks jus’ so ya kin take a breath.”

“We’ve come to the same conclusion,” Fred said.

“We’ve decided to lay low for a couple days,” George added.

“Ah reckon y'all kin lay low enough. I bet half the fillies in town think you're husbands on the hoof, and the other half are just waitin' for a chance to rope y'all in."”

“Percy already has to tell Mum he got married before finishing his O.W.L.S.,” George said.

“We want to see if he survives before we stick our heads out of this trunk,” Fred finished.

“An’ here Ah thought that Apple Bloom dun said the members of yer house were supposed to be brave.”

“There's brave, and then there's bloody suicidal,” George said.

“Mum can be scary.” Fred nodded.





The foals skidded to a halt in front of Carousel Boutique. The screams could be heard clearly over the calm basso profundo voice that kept repeating, "Code Black . . . Code Black . . . Code Black . . ."

“Woah!” Ginny exclaimed.

Between gasps, Daphne huffed, "What . . . is it . . . with Sweetie and . . . animating things . . . that have no . . . business moving?"

“You really need to join us for our exercise program,” Ron noted smugly.

“Aaaaaaaa!” a cherry red mare screamed.

“That’s just like that weird cartoon the colts were watching,” Scootaloo said, backing away.

“It’s got me!” a grey mare shrieked.

“Look, here comes Sweetie,” Ginny said as the filly in question scampered up to them, eyes wide in panic.

“Bad touch! Bad Touch!” a two-toned mare wailed.

“I’m so glad to see you guys!” Sweetie gasped as she all but jumped onto Apple Bloom’s back. “I guess I should have left the basil out.”

Scootaloo squinted. "Is that thing an octopus?"

"M . . . more like a ce . . . ce . . . centipus," replied Sweetie.

“Get on the left. Rainbow Dash!” Applejack yelled.

“See, they listen to her.” Apple Bloom waved an accusatory hoof.

“My mane!” Rarity wailed.

“Now would be a great time to break out the flame throwers,” Ron suggested.

“No! No! No!” a pink mare screamed.

“Ah think we’re going ta let the grown-ups handle this one.” Apple Bloom noted.

“Who uses alfalfa sprouts with chocolate?!” Pinkie complained as she preemptively ate out the cake monster's tufts.

“I’m going to have to agree with Apple Bloom on this one,” Ginny said, taking a step backwards.

“You’re not allowed to watch anime anymore,” said Scootaloo as she glared at Sweetie.

“Sweet Celestia! Get it off me!” a tan mare pleaded.

“I’ve never watched any anime,” Sweetie protested.

“Mr. Dessert, sir, would you mind putting all of my friends down?”

“So,” Ron said, “no flame throwers, then?”

“Pinkie! Where is your frosting when we need it?” Rainbow called out.

“Ah repeat, the grown-ups kin get this one.”

“I used it all up last night,” Pinkie answered.

“Besides, there's something way to fishy about all this,” Scootaloo added.

“It’s not even Tuesday!” an orange mare wailed.

“I know I’m not a Gryffindor and all, but I really don't think this is a good place for us kids,” Daphne said.

“You did not just do that!” an ivory colored mare snapped.

"We let the grown-ups handle this?" asked Sweetie.

“Cutie Mark Crusader Delegators!” Ginny announced.

“Yay!”

As they began their tactical withdrawal, Sweetie began to sing.

"That cake, it started with some flour, quiet plain. Next came eggs, cocoa powder and sweet sugar cane . . ."

The combatants provided background vocals to complement the fading melody. To everypony's surprise, the cake monster started moving to the throbbing beat.





Sleigh bells rang as a pair of mares entered Bon Bon's confectionary. The unexpected sound startled the young colt who was struggling to load a taffy puller as he precariously balanced on a stool. With a yelp, he fell onto the gooey blob, accidentally turning the machine to full speed as he futilely flailed his hooves. The mares watched, amused, as the poor colt was transformed into a pegasus paddle ball. No matter how hard he tried to break free, the taffy would pull him back to the waiting arms of the puller. The rapid rotations sent him flying away, restarting the cycle.

Quickly, Bon Bon punched the emergency stop button.

With great effort, Harry dragged himself toward the door, only to be slammed into it when the taffy finally broke. “I’m okay,” he managed to get out.

The first mare looked up. “He’s a Crusader, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Bon Bon stood behind the counter as she face-hoofed. “Lyra, I’m going to need you to come cast scourgify!”

“What?” Lyra called from the back. “Again?”

“Yes, and while you’re at it make sure the safety spells on the taffy puller haven’t worn off.”

“I see he’s practicing,” the second mare in stated.

“He’s got a long way to go,” the first mare grumbled.

“Is that a bad thing?” the second mare asked.

“Um, why are you two covered with cake crumbs?” Bon Bon queried.

“Don’t ask,” said the first mare.

“Sweetie Belle tried to bake a cake,” said the second.

“I see.” Bon Bon nodded knowingly. “Were there flames involved?”

“That would have been a marked improvement,” said the first mare.

“We’re going to be needing a couple boxes of liquor-filled bon bons,” said the second.

"We'll take a bottle, too," said the first. "Or eight."

Everypony turned to the thump that came from the door. It was decorated with the outline of a colt, made with hastily-gnawed taffy. Harry said as he ate the mess off his coat, "This stuff is great! Kinda high in fiber, though."





Experience had turned the tide outside the Carousel Boutique. Once free of the heart song, the mares had been able to launch an all-out attack before the cake monster could recover. As with every Code Black, the worst was yet to come, the fallout.

“Cake should not be able to do that,” Vanilla Cream said.

Pinkie had somehow gotten her hooves on a whisk that was twice as big as her and was repeatedly pummeling a misshaped mass of what was dessert. “Bad cake! Bad cake! Bad cake!” was her mantra.

“Pinkie! Sugarcube!” Applejack called. “Maybe you should stop beating a dead cake!”

“Why is that even a valid sentence?” Cherry Blush demanded.

Pinkie never stopped her swinging. “I can't help it! I feel so betrayed! Baked bads always make me so angry!”

“Cake should not be able to do that,” Vanilla Cream said.

Rarity addressed a frazzled-looking Mayor Mare. “Darling, you know how you were thinking about offering a tax break for any therapist willing to move into town?”

The mayor nodded dully.

Rarity asked, “Why don’t you go ahead and purchase them a house?”

“Cake should not be able to do that,” Vanilla Cream said.

“An’ offer them a flat yearly salary,” Applejack added. “That way, nopony will have to worry about paying her.”

“The Crusaders will be covering it,” Rainbow said.

“All expenses,” Rarity added.

Glory Rain savored another bite. “Who would have thought chocolate works with hot peppers?”

“Cake should not be able to do that,” Vanilla Cream said.

“Ah’m thinking Vanilla Cream should have dibs on the first appointment,” Applejack said.

“This really could use some frosting,” Taro Root commented.

Pinkie moaned. “I told you; I’m fresh out. I need a break before I can make a fresh batch."

“Cake should not be able to do that,” Vanilla Cream said.

“Does this make us predators?” Hallowed Candle asked.

“I don’t know, but it is an unusually satisfying meal,” Umber Shine said.

“Bleah! Avoid the parts with the flaky purple bits,” Solid Streak said.

“Cake should not be able to do that,” Vanilla Cream said.

“You know, the Crusaders own a fancy hotel now,” Rainbow said.

“It’s a five-star establishment, darling.” Rarity added.

Rainbow Dash mused, “I’m thinking Vanilla could use a week of vacation.”

“Cake should not be able to do that,” Vanilla Cream said.

“Ah’m thinking two, jus’ to make sure,” Applejack said.

“You girls need to try this strange creamy white filling; it’s a bit salty, but satisfying,” Cherry Blush said.

Hallowed Candle looked at the eighth-sheet in front of her. “I’m going to need a doggy bag here.”

“Cake should not be able to do that,” Vanilla Cream said.

“I can’t believe what this cake tried to do,” Taro Root said before she took a vicious bite.

Sitting amid the mess, Mayor Mare replied, "I suppose this is tit for tat."

Rarity begged, “Let us never speak of this again.”

“Cake should not be able to do that,” Vanilla Cream said.

“Okay, I’m done.” Pinkie somehow stowed the giant whisk in her mane. “Pass me a piece with mint.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s cilantro,” Cherry Blush noted.

“Should we be worried that Sweetie Belle made something tasty?” asked Solid Streak.

With difficulty, Hallowed Candle asked, “Anypony got milk?”

“Cake should not be able to do that,” Vanilla Cream said.

“We really should let the rest of the town know it’s safe to come have a bite,” Rainbow Dash said.

“Yeah, they need to get their share before it freezes,” Cherry Blush said.

Hallowed Candle grumbled, “Seriously, I need a glass of milk here.”

Stealthily, a large patch of cake slid off the nearby roof. As it landed on the mare's croup, it gave a gentle caress.

“CAKE SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO DO THAT!”
> Chapter 78: Cold and Floo Season
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The director of MI5 stood silent after delivering his report to a captive audience. As was normal for matters of this magnitude, the Prime Minister, the Cabinet members, the senior committee members from Parliament, as well as the director of MI6 took in his words. What was decidedly not normal was that everyone was crowded into the Prime Minister's private study, which had all of its chairs removed to accommodate the crowd.

The Prime Minister stood on the ottoman as the director of MI5 stepped down. The bespectacled man asked, "How many of you that remember attending the meeting also remember the outlandish details that our colleague has reported?"

Murmuring filled the room as its occupants looked at each other. Silence reigned when they saw two of their number raise their hands.

The Prime Minister sighed. "My only consolation is that I have some corroboration. While some of you may question my sanity when I fill you in on the details, rest assured that what I tell you is as accurate as my recollection. It seems I have underestimated the wizards' abilities to keep themselves secret."

“I can’t believe they don’t have contingency plans for the current situation,” an aide commented. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we have already had this conversation at least once before.”

“If so, what can we do about it?” another asked. “They can obviously penetrate our security without effort. Do we even want to interfere with their efforts to stay hidden?”

“Plans are already being put into motion to contain any future breaches,” the director of MI5 said. “I hate to admit it, but they have very good reasons to stay out of sight and out of mind." He wrinkled his nose as those in his vicinity did the same. "May I suggest that we adjourn to somewhere more capable of accommodating the number of people present?”

“We will when the last participant arrives,” the Prime Minister said. “While we wait, how is the rest of the world taking the news?”

“As expected, there are mixed reactions on the magical front, everything from barely contained excitement to barely suppressed fear,” the Press Secretary said. “As for contact, the Japanese, French, and Egyptians have reported that their magicals have already entered into talks with their individual governments. It would seem that their spheres of influence are similar to our own but are not an exact match. The Soviet Union has three distinct groups overlapping their territory, China has four, and several European countries are all grouped into one magical community. Then, there is the news of the ponies, most of which our news contacts admit is hearsay. It is a crying shame both discoveries have been lumped into one.”

“There has been some confirmation on that angle,” another official said. “A woman with pink hair and a child with abnormally pale hair were seen having a meal at a small London café this morning. The boy admitted to being an ‘Earth pony’ while the woman claimed to be an Equestrian changeling and made a point of it that she wasn’t one of the Fae.”

“An Earth pony?” The director of MI6 rolled the thought over in his head. “That means they’ve been here long enough for the lad to consider himself to be a natural born of our world. How old did you say he was?”

“He was at least ten.”

“Extraterrestrials have been on our planet for a decade and we are just now finding out?” someone lamented.

“The good news is that they can exist peacefully alongside us,” another MP noted.

The assembly started murmuring as its members debated the implications. The musing ceased when the merrily crackling fire in the fireplace suddenly flared and turned an unnatural green.

“Ah, here he is now,” the Prime Minister said, squeezing his way through to the fireplace. “Good morning, Xenophilius,” he said to the man exiting the flames, trailed by a stern looking woman and an even sterner looking smaller man. “I was expecting you sooner. Care to introduce your companions?”

The man ran his hand through his blonde hair, the haggard look on his face softening slightly. “Good morning, John. This is Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The man who looks like he’s sucking on a lemon is my undersecretary, Trent Lewis.”

“Glad you could make it,” the Prime Minister said before addressing the packed room. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Xenophilius Lovegood and his entourage. He is the Minister of Magic, my counterpart in the wizarding world.”

The assembly took in the appearance of the newcomers as a sigh of disappointment filled the room. Someone said, “What? No ponies?”





The prisoner gawked as the owl returned to her gilded cage. It had gotten annoyed during its first visit and had made disagreeable hoots when she had tried using her limited magic to see what was in its pouch. How it had gotten in then out and then back in was a mystery. This time, it was carrying a letter. That much made sense; she had read how humans used owls to deliver messages. The runes may have just become moot. She could use her blood to write a short message and have her aunt come rescue her.

Having decided on a course of action, she levitated the letter over and read aloud, “I guess you forgot the words. Just place your horn on the pouch and say ‘ex dimittere’.”

Prancing in place, the prisoner did just that. The pouch turned out to be very rude, but she didn’t care; what it disgorged was too much of a welcome surprise.

“Shiny!” the prisoner exclaimed, throwing her forelegs around the stallion. “You’ve come for me!”

“Ooof! Of course, I did. If I didn’t come get you to witness my mom meeting Twiley’s stallion, you’d never let me live it down,” Shining Armor said, finding himself in a crushing embrace. “I probably should have come and gotten you earlier.”

“This is wonderful,” the prisoner said. “Your magic isn’t blocked; you can use one of your shields to break through the crystal and we’ll be out in a jiffy.”

“Or we could just owl ourselves,” Shiny said, pointing at the bird in question. “What’s going on?”





Celestia was settling on her throne, preparing to start Day Court when the owl arrived. She used her magic to snag an owl treat from a covered bowl and exchanged the tidbit for the letter from the owl. “Thank you, Mitchell,” she said to the bird as she opened her mail.

“What is it Auntie?” Cadance asked from where she lounged on a cushion between the thrones of the two sisters.

“Mmmm,” Celestia said, scanning the page. “Xenophilius says that the non-magical humans have learned of the magical on a scale that is impossible to contain. He’s talking to their leaders right now and they are asking about us ponies.”

“It was only a matter of time,” Cadance said. “I hope they can work out their differences without too many problems.”

“Yes; it might be a good idea to send somepony to act as a moderator,” Celestia agreed. “It looks like we are going to have to appoint an ambassador. We’ve been approaching this too informally as it stands.”

“Did you have somepony in mind?”

“Yes. There is a pony who will be perfect to grow into the role.”





The shop's showroom evoked memories of halcyon days of fraternity living, memories that were best left unvoiced in polite company. Considering how her day had started, Mystic Books was lucky to be even in condition to respond to the owl who had materialized from an orthogonal dimension and landed on her counter. The mare expressed no surprise, but she did squint as she attempted to focus on her visitor. “Careful where you place your feet, mon amie. I haven’t gotten around to cleaning up that mess.”

The owl looked first at the bleary-eyed pony and then at Extra Dose who was curled up in front of the counter, lightly snoring. “Who?”

“Laissez-la dormir,” Mystic said, wobbling toward the bird unsteadily. “Venez ici. I shall release your passengers.” She made a sweeping gesture with a foreleg to prompt the bird. Unfortunately, that particular leg was the exact same one that needed to find the ground next per her normal gait. Mystic Books overbalanced and landed on her side. "Whoof!" she exclaimed.

“Whooo?” the bird said as it watched the pony go down.

Mystic unsteadily picked herself up and staggered toward the bird. “Venez ici.” This time, she gestured with the other foreleg, but she neglected to consider that she had taken a step forward. Once more, her face made its acquaintance with the sticky floor.

“Who,” the owl said and flapped down to Mystic. Somehow, its expressionless face clearly displayed its dismay.

Mystic poked her horn at the avian-carried pouch when it got in range. “Ex dimittere,” she said with difficulty.

Fraternities around the world would have been proud of the fanfare that the human passenger received. With mincing steps, the stranger stepped between the struggling mare and her sleeping companion. In what sounded like a stallion's voice, he demanded, "Tell me where you keep the crystals that allow magic to work around muggle electricity."

With great effort, Mystic raised her head to look at her new customer before losing her battle with gravity. “I sell crystals with different field sizes. How large of an area do you want to cover, or do you just want to shield a single item?”

“About a hundred individual six-foot-tall items, each within a sphere as big,” the human said. “I want two hundred if you have the stock on hand; I'll take everything you have, if not."

“C’est quoi 'foot'?”

“About this distance.” The human held his paws apart to demonstrate

“Oui, they are on that shelf there: Class D TEIF crystals.”

“Thanks.” the human rushed to the indicated shelf which held a large variety of crystals. They were sorted by size, and most likely power, with their prices clearly marked. He could easily see that the price rose steeply as the class and size increased, with the Class D stones being the size of a cough sweet. He grabbed the bin and rushed back to the counter. Ignoring the sticky green mess, he spilled the treasure onto the surface and counted. As he returned the stones to the bin, he said, “I’ll take all 306.”

He need not have wasted his breath; the two inebriated ponies only snored in response. Shaking his head, the human took out a sheet of paper and wrote out both a bill of sale and a promissory note to be redeemed through Arthur Weasley's agent, Mrs. Rarity Belle. He peeled the paper off the counter and pasted it onto the cash box. Then, he vanished into the owl’s pouch, bin and all.





Princess Luna was slightly irritated when an owl landed on the pillow next to her head just as she was about to enter her realm. Since she was still in the land of the waking, she did not snap at the intruder. Instead, she proffered the requisite treat before setting her horn on the pouch and muttering the release phrase. She could swear she could hear her guards stifling their laughter as the bag noisily disgorged its contents.

She groaned in irritation as she found herself straddled on either side by two ponies.

“Niece?” Princess Luna asked sourly. “Captain? What transpires?”

“Auntie, would you please remove the inhibitors on me?”

Luna blinked and lit up her horn. “Thou hast some severe bonds blocking thy magic.”

“Can you remove them?”

“We could do this in our sleep,” Luna said weaving spell threads with her horn. “How did they come to be?”

“I’ll explain later. Could you please hurry?”

“Tis done,” Luna said.

“Thanks. I love you. Bye-bye!” The door soon slammed shut without another word. Luna turned to the stallion still sharing her bed. All she received in answer was a shrug. Knowing that she would not be getting any sleep until she got answers, Luna climbed out of bed and followed in the footsteps of the storming pony.





The morning had brought several unanticipated discoveries for Emma Granger. The first was that her daughter and her cousin were not in the front yard, playing in the snow. The only thing marring the pristine newly-fallen snow was a pair of tracks that led from an automobile neatly wrapped around the lamppost to the front door. The snow in the garden was likewise undisturbed. This showed that Hermione had meant something else entirely when she said she and Hector were going out for a bit. It didn’t take a genius to deduce their method of travel or their most likely destination. Dan grumbled; still, he had taken the time to dress appropriately for the weather before jumping into the floo. Grace had, unsurprisingly, been impressed watching the display.

The second discovery had come when Luna had suggested a pepper-up potion since Grace wanted to stay awake but was finding it difficult. Emma and Dan had purchased a cabinet stocked with common remedies, and she was pleased to see that the warded piece of furniture contained thirteen vials of the liquid. Grace had grimaced bitterly when she consumed the contents and then had said it did less for her than caffeine-free diet cola.

Luna had suggested using the necklace that Dan had been fingering earlier. Had she been fully awake, Emma would have warned Grace what to expect. It was gratifying seeing the look on Grace’s face when she had shrunk down to pony form. The steam briefly streaming out of her ears as she turned into a little white unicorn was a sight to behold.

“I’m awake now,” Grace had rasped. “And this had better not be permanent.”

Luna had replied, "I couldn't quite make that out; you're a little hoarse." Over the course of the next minute, the little bat pony had proven to be incredibly agile.

A floo call from the Ministry had stopped the barrage of throw pillows. The representative had asked for instructions on getting a floo to work in a muggle house with working electricity, only to hastily close the connection once the answer was given.

The next few discoveries had come in rapid succession. The third discovery was that the dress-clad Luna was now able to cling to the ceiling in her human form, much like an inverted gargoyle; her preference in underpants technically was part of the third discovery. The fourth discovery was that plasterboard was not meant to be load-bearing; even the weight of a slight ten-year-old girl was more than it could accommodate. The fifth discovery was Grace's; while Luna was clearly quite intelligent, the girl had proven to be a devastating blunt instrument.

The sixth discovery had come in the form of a floo call from St. Mungo's.

The flames had turned green and a head had appeared within. “Are you there?” a pleasant voice had said, suppressing laughter. “Am I speaking to Mr. and Mrs. Granger?”

“I am Mrs. Granger,” Emma had replied. “How may I help you?”

“Good morning, ma’am,” the head had said. “I am Healer Nightingale. I am just calling to get parental consent. I have a Hermione Granger here requesting standard obliviation package number eleven.” There was definitely laughter in her voice at this point.

“Standard obliviation package number eleven?” Emma had repeated numbly.

“Oooh, I have five of those on my record,” Luna had said.

“Yes,” the Healer had said, eyeing Luna. “It’s . . . well . . . it’s.”

“I have a good idea what it is.” Emma had saved her.

“Yes.” The healer had managed to blush in green. “Do I have your permission to proceed?”

“No; Hermione can manage. It’s an important life lesson.”

“Okay, I’ll note your preference in her records,” the head had said before disappearing.

“Wait, would you tell her to come straight home?” Emma had said too late.

Shaking her head, Emma had decided it was her turn to make a floo call. “Professor McGonagall, are you there?”

“Mrs. Granger?” the voice from the floo had replied. “I was just on my way out. A disaster has happened. The statute has fallen, and I must do my part in mitigating potential damages.”

“Sorry to bother you, Professor. I was just calling in regard to the letter you sent to Hector Lavin. I was under the impression that they went out during summer break,” Emma had said quickly.

“Yes, that is normally the case. However, since all of my lions have left for winter break, I decided to take advantage of the lull.” There had come the sound of pages turning. “Mr. Lavin was to be my first objective; the admittance book shows that all seven years of his education have been paid in full this morning from the Lestrange family vault. I assume he is related to you.”

“He is my nephew.”

“Is he somewhere safe?”

“My guess is that he’s currently at St. Mungo's. I just got a call from them asking for permission to obliviate Hermione.” Emma had answered.”

“I see; nothing serious I hope.”

“Standard obliviation package number eleven.” Emma had said.

“Ah, well . . . will he be staying with you for a couple days at least?”

Emma had glanced at Grace who had nodded with great effort. “Yes, I suspect he shall be.”

“Good, I shall move him down to the bottom of my priority list. Now I’m afraid I must cut this conversation short.”

“Oh course, Professor. Sorry to bother you,” Emma had replied apologetically.

“Quite alright.” The professor’s voice had come as the flames had died, leaving the hearth cold.





Jasper Eades opened the door of his apartment and was met with the sight of three men wearing robes looking back at him.

“Mr. Eades?” the one in front asked. If it weren’t for the fact that it was daytime, Jasper would have sworn he was a stereotypical vampire. “May we please come in?”

The reply to that was obvious. “No.”

Nonplused, the man waved a wand at him and said, “Levicorpus.” Jasper’s feet left the ground and he floated back into his home, followed by the three men. “I’m afraid we cannot accept that answer. Much needs to be done to ensure the safety of your daughter. We don’t have the luxury of time for niceties.”

“Who is it, Jasper?” his wife asked, coming out of the master bedroom. “Oh!” she finished as she saw her floating husband.

“My apologizes,” Nosferatu's twin said. “My name is Professor Snape. I realize this borders on assault. Truthfully, it falls too far on the wrong side of that border to be comfortable for anyone. However, with the revelation of magic to the general population, it is imperative that we provide security for all British-born wizards and witches without delay. Where would you like your fireplace?”

“We’re in the middle of an apartment block,” Jasper’s wife said. “We can’t exactly have a chimney.”

“Runes will be used to handle the smoke,” Professor Snape said, looking around before indicating. “That wall shall suffice.” The two men with him turned toward the indicated area, one took out a much too small bag and started extracting cut stones. The other cleared the pictures and furniture, shrinking them before sweeping them into a small pouch.

“You’re here for Nora,” Jasper’s wife said. “Funny things happen around her.”

“Yes,” Professor Snape said. “She is a witch and would have received her letter this coming summer if not for the current debacle. In response to that, the Minister has ordered a floo connection installed in all muggle-born households. All the normal fees are waived.”

“How does that help?” Jasper’s wife watched as the two men quickly assembled a fireplace out of the materials from the bag.

“If the worse happens, your child will be able to flee through the floo to a safe location,” Professor Snape said. “I will need to teach her how to use it.”

Jasper’s wife seemed to weigh her options for a second before calling out. “Nora come here!”

Nora came out of a small bedroom. “Yes, Mum?”

“You have a visitor.” Jasper’s wife indicated the dangerous-looking man.

“You can do magic!” Nora said, gasping.

“Yes. I can,” Professor Snape confirmed.

“You can let me down now,” Jasper deadpanned at him.

Professor Snape gently placed him back on the ground.

“Where are the ponies?” Nora demanded.

“Ponies?” Professor Snape asked.

“The news said I get a pony,” Nora insisted.

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes slightly. “Ponies are not pets; they are classmates. You may have an owl, a rat, a cat, or a toad.”

“I wanna pet a pony,” Nora asserted.

Professor Snape said, “That is actually an excellent idea for smoothing the friction that is undoubtably in store for the rest of the day.” He then summoned a small wrinkly creature that he identified as a house elf. The little thing soon left with instructions and a stack of letters.





Despite her mildly benevolent expression, Celestia could not be more pleased with the way Day Court had gone so far. To test her niece's mettle, the diarch had referred all disputes to the younger alicorn. To the elder's delight, the pink mare had displayed an uncanny knack for identifying the heart of each conflict and had produced rulings that were fair to all parties involved. Clearly, Cadence was ready for a bigger challenge.

A hubbub in the crowd broke Celestia out of her reverie. Looking down the lengthy queue of petitioners, she was taken aback by the source of the disturbance. A pink dot grew bigger at an alarmingly rapid rate until it resolved itself into an incredibly irate pink alicorn mare. Her scream crescendoed as she approached. "Chryyyysaaaaaliiiiiis!!!"

With a sigh of resignation, the Cadance on the cushion said, "Oh, bother." The second Cadance slammed into the first, displacing her like a billiard ball. The first made an impromptu pocket in the wall. With a snarl, the second leapt, trying to catch the first before she could free herself.

Celestia somehow managed to hide her surprise as she watched her sister and Cadance's stallion wade through the sea of fleeing petitioners to get a front row seat for the proceedings.

Celestia flew down to join them. “Sister, you’re awake at an unusual hour,” she commented.

“We had our repose interrupted by yonder niece. We were implored to remove blocks on her magic and also cast a spell to expedite the digestion of the preserved spinach she did partake in on the way to these chambers.”

“They . . . she does seem upset,” Celestia noted. “I think I am going to have to put some warnings on those theses concerning time magic by Starswirl.”

“We can see the wisdom in that.”

“Shouldn’t we do something?” Shining Armor asked.

"Certes," said Luna. Pointing to the scribe, she said, "You, there. Fetch us the buttered popcorn."





The door to the Thomas house opened to an unanticipated sight. “Good morning,” said Mr. Thomas. “I’ll wager I have knowledge of magic going mainstream to thank for this visit.”

“It does make for a busy day for me,” Professor Sprout replied. “The Ministry has concluded they have no means to contain the outbreak, so they are taking the necessary steps to prepare for negative reactions.”

“Are you here to collect the children?” Mr. Thomas asked. “I don’t think retreating into strongholds is a viable course of action.”

“It hasn’t come to that. We are, however, installing floos in the households of every muggle born child as a precaution.” Professor Sprout gestured at the two wizards accompanying her.

“I’m afraid we can’t afford that expense right now,” Mr. Thomas said.

“The Ministry is bearing the cost. They have even acquired crystals that will prevent the floo from affecting the muggle technology in your house. May we come in? This is only the second house we’ve visited today and I have many to go before I sleep.”

“Come in. Would you like some tea or cocoa?”

“Thank you, no.” Professor Sprout stomped her feet on the mat just inside the door to remove snow from her boots. “Are the children present? I would like to check on them while I am here.”

“No, they spent the night at one of Dean’s friend's. It was decided the weather was not best for taking the magical bus.”

One of the installers smiled. “There is already a good-sized fireplace here; we’ll just need to expand it some.” He and his partner broke away from the conversation and went to work.

“That does complicate things.” Professor Sprout frowned. “Teaching them how to use the floo is of the utmost importance.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. They take it all the time; the only reason they take the bus is because the Ministry wouldn’t allow a floo in a house owned by someone who can’t do magic. I can ring them up with the floo address, and I imagine they’d be right home soon after.”

“That’s a relief,” Professor Sprout said as an owl flew in from an orthogonal dimension. “Now what?” After a bit of rather rude retching, a pony whom Sprout recognized appeared in the room. “Miss Crunch.” Professor Sprout addressed one of Snape’s apprentices. “To what do I owe this honor?”

“Hello, Professor Sprout.” Raspberry Crunch shook herself like a dog shedding water. “Professor Snape said that having a cute fluffy sapient pony along would help with your assignment.”

“He does have a point.”

Raspberry frowned. “Though I don’t have a problem being described by any of those words individually, stringing them together like that seems demeaning in some way.”





Shining Armor watched the fight, clearly concerned for the wellbeing of his beloved, or was that beloveds? He said, "Shouldn't we stop them before somepony gets seriously hurt?"

Luna shook her head. “Nay, she dost attack herself as a pegasus punishes a recalcitrant foal. There be anger here but no true malice.”

“Besides,” Celestia said, “it was time for a break.”

“My pancreas!” the Cadance with a green glow around her horn wailed as she crashed into Celestia’s throne this time.

The ground trembled after the next attack.

“I just had the marble floor in here replaced.” Celestia winced.

“'Twas a most excellent powerbomb, though.”

Desperately, Shining Armor pleaded, "Your highnesses, please. Stop them."

Celestia replied, "My sister is right. What is being done is being done out of love. There's nothing to worry about."





The citizens of Canterlot stood, shocked, at the mighty roar that blew the roof and windows from the throne room.
> Chapter 79: Gathering, Groceries, and Guts
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sight of newly fallen snow framed by the frosted picture window always brought a smile to Mrs. Baker's face. The scents of cloves, oranges, and cinnamon added a festive ambiance. As far back as recorded history spanned, the ancestral home had been where her family gathered for the holidays, and Mrs. Baker had done everything she could to dress it up for the season.

By tradition, the large farmhouse and its surrounding lands had been passed from parent to child. When her grandfather had died, her father had become lord of the manor. She had moved back in when her sire had grown too frail to maintain the place. He had lived a happy life until that stormy night when he had spent his final moments, comfortable in his own bed before moving from this world to the next.

She paused to look in the mirror. Experience had etched lines in her face. While she was quite active and healthy for her age, she could no longer manage the property on her own. Her youngest son had moved back in to lend support, bringing his wife and two children. The chain of succession would continue. The house and its land were in good hands.

The knock on the front door was unanticipated but not unwelcome. Her eldest had said that this year his family would be spending the holidays with his wife’s parents; they went on alternate years to keep both families happy. It was doubtlessly them deciding that the storm made the longer trip infeasible. They were more than welcome, of course. More room would always be found. Smiling at the thought of seeing her son, the old woman beat her daughter-in-law to the front door to let her kin in. She was sorely disappointed when she found four strangers waiting instead.

“Good morning, Mrs. Baker?” the man in front asked. He wore black robes as well as a grim expression that were better suited for Halloween. The two men with him also wore black robes but their neutral expressions were positively jovial in comparison. The woman in the group seemed to silently scream for attention, decidedly non-conformal in a bright orange strapless dress. Despite her bare shoulders and lack of outerwear, the leggy blonde did not seem to mind the cold. The plum-colored plushie that she cradled was a sure sign that she was in a festive mood.

“In the flesh,” the old woman said. “May I help you?”

“We’re here to fix your fireplace,” the stuffed toy declared, drawing the old woman’s attention.

“Hush, Georgia,” the woman in the orange dress admonished the toy. “Let Professor Snape handle the introductions.”

“Who is it, Mum?” Mrs. Baker’s daughter-in-law asked, coming to stand beside the old woman.

“Some carolers, I think. They have a talented ventriloquist with them.”

“We are not carolers,” the man in front said. “I am Professor Snape, and we have urgent business with Irene Baker.”

“Ooooh,” Mrs. Baker’s daughter-in-law cooed. “Is that a unicorn?”

“Yes!” The toy waved her forehooves excitedly. “Fear me, human! I am the Great and Powerful Georgia!” A tiny spark floated from the tip of the toy's horn and almost immediately faded.

“Georgia!” the woman holding her gasped. “Behave!”

“Why do I feel like I’ve just been threatened by a kitten?” Mrs. Baker’s daughter-in-law asked.

“As amusing as this may be,” Professor Snape said, “we have work to do, and this conversation would be best had while it progresses. May we please come in?”

“Sure, come into the living room,” Mrs. Baker said. “The family is all gathered, and I’m sure they’d love to meet your unicorn.”

“Mum, that’s not a dummy. That’s an alien, and I assume these men are the wizards the news has been going on about,” the younger Mrs. Baker said.

“How astute,” Professor Snape said as he walked past the two women. “We are indeed wizards and this is my apprentice, Barbie. She was minding her sister when I summoned her and had the misguided assumption that I wouldn’t object to her bringing the waif along.”

“I’m not a dummy or an alien,” Georgia complained. “You are.”

“I’m not going to warn you again,” Barbie said, placing her hand over Georgia’s muzzle. “Be nice to the humans; you’ve been taught better manners than this.”

“Didn’t you hear what she called me?” Georgia said accusingly.

“Ponies are new to most humans,” Barbie said placatingly. “Give them a chance.”

“How could anypony not have met a pony before?” Georgia whined.

“Is that a pony?” A little girl stood on her tip toes to get a better look at Georgia. There were five other children right behind her with looks of eagerness on their faces.

“Yes, this is my little sister Georgia,” Barbie said. She looked over and found that Professor Snape was talking to the parents while the installers were working on the fireplace. There were still more than a few adults paying attention to Georgia and her.

“You’re not a pony,” a boy stated. “How can she be your sister?”

“I can change my form,” Barbie said, placing Georgia on the ground. “Would you like to see?”

“No!” Georgia wailed. “Pick me up! Pick me up! They have cooties! That one has snot all over his face!”

“Puppy!” the youngest boy in the room exclaimed, tackle hugging Georgia and burying his face in her fur.

“Eeeew!” Georgia exclaimed.

“Well,” said a woman who had been reaching for a tissue box. “At least he doesn’t have snot on his face anymore.”





The treehouse cum clubhouse that was nestled in the branches of an ancient apple tree had served as a refuge for the Crusaders far too often. Force of habit kept them away from the doors and windows, away from the prying eyes and ears of judgmental adults. Here, they could talk freely about touchy subjects. Sweetie Belle's latest cake had certainly been touchy . . . and feely . . . and probing. Sweetie Belle gave a delicate shudder as the others piled in, happy to be far away from all the excitement.

Daphne broke the silence. “I propose that Sweetie not be allowed to cook without at least two other people watching her.”

“You can’t vote, you’re not part of the herd,” Scootaloo reminded her.

“Does that really matter?” Daphne asked.

“Y’all better believe it does,” Apple Bloom said. “'Sides, most of the herd ain’t here ta take a vote.”

“It is a good idea though,” Ginny said.

“Ah’m not saying it ain’t,” Apple Bloom said. “Daphne jus' don’t have no right ta call fer a vote. Least wise while she’s not in tha herd.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Sweetie snarled.

“No, you just think it’s a good idea to add basil to a cake,” Ron said. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s not so much the basil I’m worried about,” Daphne said. “I’m more concerned with infusing the batter with magic.”

“I did no such thing,” Sweetie said.

“Of course, you did,” Daphne countered. “How else do you explain Mr. Personal-Space Invader?”

“Y’all think she’s doing it without realizing it?” Apple Bloom asked.

“That would explain a lot,” Ginny said. “I wonder if that is what affects her potions, too.”

“I think her habit of changing the ingredients has more to do with it,” Ron said. “I may not be the best at potions, but even I know enough not to add mint just to make it taste better.”

“That only happened once,” Sweetie whined.

“The time before that you tried to add chocolate before Resonate Wave stopped you,” Daphne reminded her.

“Wait a sec,” Scootaloo said. “I want to test this infoosing theory. Sounds like the perfect way to get our cutie marks.”

“Infusing,” Sweetie corrected. “It’s has a 'u' not an ‘oo’.”

“Whatever,” Scootaloo griped. "Everything you cook has an 'eeeew'."

“Ah could get the ingredients from the kitchen.” Apple Bloom rubbed her chin with a hoof. “We could try a smaller batch ta control it.”

“Are you seriously thinking of letting her back in the kitchen?” Daphne gasped.

“I do need to practice,” Sweetie countered.

“No,” Daphne insisted, “just no.”

“We could try apple pie instead,” Apple Bloom suggested.

“Or cinnamon rolls,” Ron added.

“Are all Gryffindors crazy?” Daphne asked rhetorically.

“Ah wasn’t planning on eating it,” Apple Bloom explained. “It’s just that Apples are loyal, an' nothing could possibly go wrong with baking an apple pie.”

“Hello!” Daphne said. “This is Belle we are talking about here. You’ve seen what she can do with a foolproof boils potion.”

“Maybe we should try something already made,” Ginny suggested. “We do have all those candies we bought yesterday; we could sacrifice a box.”

“I don’t know why I bothered asking; you are crazy,” Daphne said. “I have a better suggestion, let’s not experiment anymore today. There are other things we could do. I still need to get a few more gifts.”

“Yeah, shopping trip,” Sweetie agreed.

“I wouldn’t mind hitting the mall,” Scootaloo conceded. “Let’s go grab Button Mash. I wanna see him go wild in the arcade.”

Apple Bloom objected. “Nah, that’s something we need ta have everypony present to see. It wouldn’t be fair ta hog that to ourselves.”

“I was thinking pony presents,” Daphne suggested.

“We shopped in Ponyville yesterday.” Ron shook his head. “How about Diagon Alley? Haven’t been there in a while.”

“That’s an idea,” Apple Bloom said. “Y’all’ve seen how skittish my sister is around our trunks. Having one of her own would do wonders fer getting her used to 'em.”

“We could get Twilight a book while we’re at it,” Scootaloo mused, “and a trunk for Rainbow Dash.”

“You don’t really think she hasn’t looted the book store yet?” Sweetie asked. “They probably know her by sight by now.”

“True, but we could find her something,” Scootaloo said.

“Oh,” Apple Bloom exclaimed. “Ah jus' remembered Ah wanted ta get a telly and VCR fer tha farmhouse.”

Sweetie chimed in. “I want to get Rarity a flying carpet. They may be illegal where we go to school, but Hermione says they are available in France, and they are legal here.”

“So, we got a plan,” Apple Bloom said. “I’ll go get mah trunk ta carry everything. Sweetie, call Philomena and we’ll go get tha best presents fer everypony.”

“Or we could call Philomena first and just pop in and get your trunk,” Ginny said. “It would be faster.

Daphne sighed in relief. The universe was safe for another day; Sweetie had forgotten about cooking.





“What did you step in?” Lyra cried out as soon as she opened the door to Bon Bon’s candy shop. "This reeks like a fertilizer factory."

“That’s dinner,” Bon Bon said weakly. "I bet everything'll be fine when I add those onions that you and Harry are carrying." She sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be getting any more customers today.”

“Dinner?” Lyra asked. “What are you cooking?”

“Chitterlings.” Bon Bon moaned. “It’s supposed to be a favorite meal for griffins. I figured our young human would appreciate the treat.”

“Is that why he’s in the corner doing his best impression of an owl’s pouch?” Lyra asked drily.

Harry gagged. "Parts is not parts."

Bon Bon sighed. “He’s the fifth one today. Those every flavor beans certainly live up to their name. I can’t see the appeal, but we’re going to need another barrel of them.”

“Didn’t you . . .” Harry dry heaved. “Didn’t you put some orange slices on top before you started cooking them?”

“Why would I do that?” Bon Bon asked.

“The smell,” Harry moaned pitifully.

“It’s not that bad,” Bon Bon weakly insisted from behind the clothespin on her nose.

“Bonnie, you just made the natural born meat eater lose his cookies . . . and his taffy . . . and everything else he's eaten today,” Lyra observed.

“Would orange extract work?” Bon Bon asked.

“No, you want a fresh orange,” Harry insisted.

“And where are we going to get a fresh orange?” Bon Bon queried. “It’s the middle of winter, so we’re not going to find them in the market. They are a seasonal import.”

“Greengrocers will have them,” Harry said. “I’ll just owl myself over to Hermione’s.”

“Can you get fresh lemons too?” Bon Bon asked.

“Sure,” Harry said before making his escape.

“Wait for me!” Lyra yelled after him.

“just a minute, Lyra,” Bon Bon said from around a mouthful of her tail.

“Huh?”

“Scourgify.” Bon Bon pointed toward the corner.

“I’m getting far too much practice with that spell,” Lyra grumbled.





Hector was glad that he had foregone breakfast as he found his third foray through the floo just as exciting and disorienting as his first two. He was relieved that he was finally getting the hang of things; his gluteals bore a pair of size seven souvenirs of his cousin's help. Granted, he wouldn’t have entered the green fire the first time just on Hermione’s say so, but still, he managed to get the point in the end. He now had no doubt that he could do magic. He was proud that he only stumbled a little when he stepped through the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace for the second time that day.

“Hello there.” A cheerful little man, shorter than Hector, greeted him when he exited. The man scanned through a scroll he held in one hand while keeping his place with a quill in the other. “May I get your name, please?”

Hector looked around and saw that the pub was full of children with adults. Most of them were crowding around three small, colorful ponies, oohing and ahing. “Um . . . Hector Lavin,” he said hesitantly.

“Ah, Mr. Lavin, we were expecting you sooner,” the man said. “Did you come through on your own or did you lose your grip on your adult companion?”

“Huh?” Hector replied intelligently.

“Don’t worry,” the small man said. “Yours wouldn’t be the first parent we’ve had to rescue from the floo system today.”

Any reply was cut off when the flames flared green and Hermione came through, making a perfect Telemark landing. “Oh, Professor Flitwick. Hello,” she said upon seeing the little man.

“Hello, Miss Granger,” Professor Flitwick greeted. “Planning to do some shopping today? You would be well advised to put that off until a later date.”

“Yes, sir. Hector and I are only here to pick up his trunk,” Hermione said. “They said at Flourish and Blotts that the reading list for next year hasn’t been issued yet, and his letter doesn’t have the same purchase list mine had when I received it.”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall did say she was experimenting with contacting muggleborn out of season,” Professor Flitwick said. “Am I to understand that Mr. Lavin has yet to receive a home visit from the floo installers?”

“We came from my house, sir,” Hermione said. “His mother is non-magical, so they wouldn’t be getting a floo connection.”

“I see. That is no longer the case; the Minister has decreed that all muggleborn households are to be connected by floo as a precaution.”

“That could be messy,” Hermione said. “When we had our floo installed, it fried all of our electronics.”

“Magics have been imported from Equestria to prevent that,” Professor Flitwick replied.

“Did they also get more of the gems that spark in the presence of floo powder?” Hermione asked. “Miss Sparkle made us some so that there doesn’t need to be a fire already going.”

“Not that I am aware of. They do sound convenient.”

Once again, the flames turned green. This time it was a man and a young girl about seven years old, tightly holding hands. They executed a perfectly synchronized superhero landing, leaving carpet burns on their hands and faces. Several witches and wizards sitting at the bar clapped before swishing their wands, summoning fiery numbers floating in the air.

“A seven, three sixes, and a five,” Professor Flitwick noted absently before addressing the newcomers. “I’m afraid the first trip through the floo can be an experience.”

“You travel like that all of the time?” The man groaned in disbelief.

“You get used to it quickly,” Hector offered.

“Look, papa!” the girl said, picking herself up. “More ponies!” With a squee, she rushed over to join the crowd surrounding the besieged equines.

“The newcomers are enjoying the company of Professor Snape’s apprentices,” Professor Flitwick commented. “You could join them Miss Granger.”

“Not it, sir,” Hermione said, taking a step back. “Not it.”





Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were in lock step as they followed Diamond’s parents back to the mansion. The visit to Canterlot had been a mind-boggling success. Even if they had come in second place, it had been a very comfortable second place. Getting the aluminum hadn’t been that hard. They knew a Slytherin who had a brother in Ravenclaw who had taken muggle studies. One simple letter and a simple promise later, and they had rolls of the metal in paper-thin sheets. It might not have been what the Crusaders had been selling, but it was in high demand at thirty percent less than the market rate. Their small herd was now financially secure by their own hooves, cementing their position among the elite. The few sickles they owed the Ravenclaw would be replaced by galleons as gratitude for a job well and quickly accomplished. If only they didn’t need to go through the Crusaders to exchange their bits for wizarding money.

Still, that minor inconvenience was nothing compared to the euphoria of having bits of their own to spare. It was time to get something that they absolutely needed. “Daddy,” Diamond Tiara said as she walked. “May we go to Diagon Alley? Silver Spoon and I are having a hard time using brooms, and we’d like to buy some to practice with.”

“You could just send Randolph to acquire some from the warehouse,” Spoiled Rich said from where she walked next to her husband.

“We need special magic brooms,” Diamond Tiara explained. “They are an important status symbol.”

“In that case, nothing but the best will do.” Spoiled Rich was quick to hop onto the bandwagon. “No daughter of mine shall be seen with anything less.”

Diamond Tiara smiled over the ease at which she was going to get what she wanted. “The Crusaders all have Nimbus 2000’s, top of the line.”

“They also have a chance to practice outside of classes,” Silver Spoon said, resentful of her own attempts at using the school brooms. She could swear the Widowmaker absolutely hated her.

“I’ll ask Rarity to exchange a substantial number of bits for galleons. Then, you can open a vault with the goblins,” Filthy said. “I want to get my hoof in on the ground floor for the human world import and export. Care will just be needed, with the princess’s wanting to monitor that trade. It'll be tedious work, but if kept above board, it should be profitable. Gold, aluminum, and gems may already be banned, but there are still a multitude of items that they should allow for trade.”

“No chests,” Spoiled Rich insisted.

“You haven’t seen the inside of George,” Filthy said.

“I’d like to keep it that way,” Spoiled replied.

*Thoooom!*

Whatever Filthy was going to say was interrupted when an object crashed into the center of the street forming a small crater and flinging snow and debris everywhere.

Filthy and Spoiled immediately put themselves between whatever it was and the fillies.

“Ooooooh.” A pink hoof reached over the edge of the new hole, followed by a familiar, if shaky, pony. “Why me?”

“Princess Cadance?” Diamond Tiara asked, looking through her father’s legs.

“Huh?” The newcomer looked around unsteadily. “Oh, Diamond Tiara.” Then, when the filly took a step forward. “Stay back, it’s not safe.”

“What’s wrong?” Filthy asked. “I’ll summon the guard.”

“That won’t be neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Cadance said as she was suddenly replaced by her attacker. The sound of hooves striking flesh was heard as the princess was sent hurdling in the direction of the Everfree.

“Come back here, I’m not done with you yet,” said the second Cadance as she launched herself in pursuit.

The Rich family and everypony on the street watched the spectacle, agog.

“Looks like somepony found the lost mirror pool,” the Mayor’s assistant said, shaking his head.

“Could have been worse,” Cherry Berry replied. “Pinkie could have found it first.”





Grace was painfully aware that she was not in good hands. Her insurance rates were sure to skyrocket after yet another claim. It drove home the consequences of driving impaired; fatigue and terror were just as debilitating as alcohol. To make matters worse, the risk had proven to be completely unnecessary; she could easily have put her son in serious jeopardy. Grace let her sister-in-law know just how pathetic she felt her decision had been.

Emma placed a comforting hand on Grace’s shoulder and said, “Yes, it was stupid. You’ll get no argument over that, but I understand that you were scared and you did what you thought would keep Hector safe. No harm, no foul.”

“My car says otherwise,” Grace said, thinking of her abrupt stop.

“That’s nothing to worry about,” Emma said. “I know someone who can fix it in a jiffy.”

“You know a magical mechanic?” Grace asked hopefully.

“Something like that,” Emma said, taking a pinch of the green powder from its container. “Grimmauld Place,” she called out, tossing it into the cold hearth.

“I guess this is more convenient than getting it towed,” Grace allowed as the green flames flared into being.

“What’s convenient?” came a voice from the flames.

“Sirius, could you come through please.” Emma said. “We have a minor emergency.”

"What did the Crusaders do now?" It was a female voice this time.

“Nothing that drastic,” Emma said. “I just need about a dozen reparios cast.”

“That does seem out of character for the Crusaders,” the female voice said. “It’s always one or one hundred with them, nothing in between.”

“I’ll be right back. Coming through,” the male voice said, and a man with lustrous black hair stepped out from the green flames.

“Hello, Sirius. Thanks for coming,” Emma said as the flames flared again, this time announcing the arrival of a woman sporting purple hair with a pink stripe. “Twilight, good to see you.”

The flames flashed once more. This time, an off-white bundle of fur tumbled out. “That’s more like it!” Grace heard the unicorn exclaim upon coming to a stop.

“Mother,” said an embarrassed Twilight.

“Twilley,” said the unicorn. “You didn’t think I was going to let you and your stallion rush off like that mid-visit, did you? Besides, this way, I get to meet your friends.”

Twilight sighed. “Emma Granger, this is my mother, Twilight Velvet. Mother, this is my friend, Emma Granger.”

“Hiya.” Twilight Velvet smiled and waved.

“Hello, Mrs. Velvet,” said Emma. “Allow me to introduce you all to my sister-in-law and the reason I called, Grace Granger.”

“So, what did you break?” Sirius asked.

Grace groaned. "A lamppost came out of nowhere and attacked my car. It's out front."

“We’d better hurry then,” Sirius said, “before some muggle sees and then wonders how it got fixed.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Emma asked. “The whole world knows of magic now.”

Sirius blinked. “The whole world?”

“Yup, announced it on the news last night. It’s all they are talking about on the telly and the radio now.” Emma nodded.

Sirius blinked again. “Twilight, I need to go to the Ministry and see what’s up.” He turned to the unicorn in the room. “I’m going to have to take a rain check on getting to know you, say, dinner tonight?”

“Rain check?” Twilight Velvet asked.

“Go ahead, Sirius,” Twilight Sparkle said. “I’ll take care of the car. Then, I need to get back to a project I’m in the middle of. We’ll come by for supper. I’ll bring my father, brother, and niece.”

“Okay, sorry to rush off like this,” Sirius said, retracing his steps and reentering the fireplace after using more green powder.

“Are you going to let him go by himself?” Twilight Velvet asked her daughter.

“Humans' norms are different than ponies',” Twilight said. “He wouldn’t appreciate it if I’m ‘overprotective’.”

“So, he’s a masconist?” Twilight Velvet asked.

“That’s masochist,” Emma said. “Oh, hello Hedwig.” A white owl seemed to fly into the room from nowhere.

“Where did that come from?” Grace asked eyeing the bird warily.

“From Ponyville,” Twilight answered. “That’s Bon Bon's and Lyra’s owl.”

“Bark,” Hedwig corrected.

“I left my wand upstairs,” Emma said. “Would you mind getting this?”

“Sure,” Twilight said and placed hers on the owl’s pouch before uttering the release phrase. The pouch enthusiastically regurgitated a pair of ponies. The smaller one had wings instead of a horn.

“Hello, Lyra, Harry.” Emma addressed the newcomers.

“Hello,” the two chorused.

“She’s green,” Grace said. “Is that normal?”

“Ponies come in a wide variety of colors,” Emma said dismissively. “Harry, Luna’s downstairs watching a movie, if you’d like to join her.”

“We just need to go to the grocers.” The smaller pony transformed into a boy about Hector’s age. “Mum is cooking chitterlings, and we desperately need to pick up an orange.” He put a strange emphasis on the word ‘mum’.

“The roads are still pretty bad out there,” Emma mused. “Give me a minute, and I’ll get my keys.”

“Nah, we need to get pounds from Gringotts anyway, and there is a shop within walking distance of the Leaky Cauldron,” Lyra said. “We don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It isn’t a bother,” Emma assured. “But your plan is better and safer. Would you mind picking up a mango or two while you’re at it? Luna’s been going on about them at length.”

“This is your human form?” Twilight Velvet studied Harry closely. “Why are you wearing glasses now?”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Lyra said. “We need to get him a new pair; we might as well get that out of the way while we’re at it.”

“Mum, we need to hurry with that orange,” Harry reminded her.

“Okay, okay,” Lyra said as another owl entered the room. This one did not wear a pouch. Instead it carried a scroll in its talons.

“Is it normally this busy?” Grace asked as the bird landed close to Lyra.

“Not normally,” Emma said.

“That’s from Princess Celestia.” Twilight said, recognizing the stylized sun on the seal holding the scroll shut.

“Why would she send me mail?” Lyra wondered, opening the scroll to read. “Twilight, I’d understand, but why me?”





The full detachment of the Ponyville garrison watched as the princesses of day and night motioned for them to stay back. Celestia asked, "Luna, do you have any idea what's gotten into our niece?"

"Nay," replied Luna. "Mayhap we can ask when they finish."

"At this rate, it will be Winter Wrap-Up by the time they are done."

A feral snarl punctuated a super flying suplex. The spectators watched with mouths open as Cadance landed heavily against the trunk of a mighty larch. The tree slowly tipped before crashing to the ground.

“KO!” Luna declared triumphantly.
> Chapter 80: Adaptation and Incarceration
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A very frazzled Madame Pomfrey was glad to have the unanticipated company when she finally woke her patient. Had this been a normal procedure, the patient would have been given a simple analgesic potion or have been struck with an anesthetic charm. However, she had been dealing with a heretofore unseen physiology and a completely new procedure. She simply could not have afforded the risk of having anything interfering with her procedure or with her ability to monitor her patient.

She shuddered as she reflected on how painful it must have been. It had been far worse than her extemporaneous stint as midwife in her teens. Had anyone been listening, they would have accused her of torture. The screams had been undeniably soul-wrenching. They had stopped only when the patient had fallen unconscious when her pain threshold had finally been overwhelmed.

Pomfrey had taken advantage of the respite to summon another medwitch. The procedure had taken much longer than Pomfrey would have dared for a human patient. While she was confident that there was neither physical nor magical damage, memory of the procedure could cause irreparable harm to her patient's psyche. Luckily, in the wizarding world, memories could be selectively tempered, or even erased. By law, she needed concurrence from another medical professional to proceed with that remedy.

St. Mungo's had personnel on call for just such a contingency. When Pomfrey had explained the situation, the psychiatric healer had summoned the two available experts on the patient's physiology. Thus, five minutes after Healer Nightingale had started her examination of the comatose patient's psyche, the experts had crowded into the ward.

The small brown unicorn introduced as Dr. Splint muttered, half to himself, as he scanned the patient with his horn. "So, Miss Fizzlepop Berrytwist, unicorn mare, horn regrown." Looking up, he asked, “How much of her horn was present when you started?”

“About this much.” Madam Pomfrey held her thumb and forefinger two centimeters apart to demonstrate. “I gave her three times the prescribed amount of Skele-Gro, and it took one and a half times as much as a normal bone would have needed.”

“That couldn’t have been pleasant,” Healer Yates said, doing a scan of his own with his wand.

“She was in intense pain,” Madam Pomfrey acknowledged. “That is why I am recommending an obliviation before I wake her.”

“I concur,” Healer Nightingale said. “It would be for the best. I detect some sanity slippage that will revert if we act quickly.”

“Do you have any objections?” Healer Yates asked Dr. Splint.

“I am going to defer to your judgment in this matter,” Dr. Splint said. “The idea of erasing memories to circumvent the psychological shock of major traumas has never occurred to us. I can already think of several cases where it would be beneficial.”

“Something else for our ‘to do’ list.” Healer Yates grimaced. 

“Uncountable ponies and humans are already benefiting from our efforts,” Dr. Splint said as he nodded in agreement. “It will be worth the lost sleep.”

“Since we are all in agreement.” Healer Nightingale pointed her wand at Fizzlepop. “Scopum Obliviate.”

“Erasing memories shouldn’t be that easy,” Dr. Splint commented.

“It only looks easy; this is one of my specialties,” Healer Nightingale said. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Shall I wake her now?” Madam Pomfrey asked.

“Here.” Dr. Splint floated a thick ring over to her. “Place this on her horn. If we want the pegasi to wait a week before using their newly grown wing bones, then preventing our patient from using her magic for a like period would be advisable.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded as she placed the ring on Fizzlepop’s horn. She then pointed her wand and said, “Rennervate.”

The results were instantaneous. Fizzlepop leapt to her hooves and almost toppled off as a forehoof missed its landing and slipped off the bed. 

“Calm yourself, Miss Berrytwist,” Pomfrey said, soothingly. “No one here will hurt you.”

“What happened?” Fizzlepop asked. “Is everypony here to watch me regrow my horn?”

“What is the last thing you remember?” Dr. Splint asked.

Fizzlepop scrunched her muzzle for a second as she thought. “Madam Pomfrey was hoofing . . . handing me a goblet.” She then crossed her eyes and tried to see her own horn. “Did it work?” she asked with equal parts hope and dread.

Madam Pomfrey summoned a mirror, which Fizzlepop snatched out of the air with her hooves. She said nothing as she stared at the reflective surface and saw her fully restored horn for the first time. A hoof was brought up to prod the suppressor ring.

“That stays for a week,” Madam Pomfrey said firmly.

“Three weeks, actually,” Healer Yates corrected.

Fizzlepop nodded but didn’t tear her gaze away from the mirror.

“We are also compelled to inform you that we decided to remove your memories related to the regrowth. By law, those memories will be returned if you so request,” Healer Nightingale said. “I will warn you that memory of that sort of pain would most likely damage your sanity. I would strongly advise against that course of action.”

“You are the doctors,” Fizzlepop said, attention still fixed on the mirror. “I would be a fool to go against your advice.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Miss Berrytwist,” Madam Pomfrey said. “I should also mention that Miss Weiss sat with you through the night and only left when duties called her away.”

“Duties?”

“I’ll explain in a short while,” Madam Pomfrey said. “But first, why don’t we all head down to the main hall for a meal? I can hear your stomach grumbling from here, and the nutrition potion works best when taken with food.”





The Pearl Suite was nothing short of magnificent. Any and all expectations of being the guests of royalty were met. The furniture was of a higher quality than imagined in either the muggle or the wizarding worlds. The view from the attached balcony was breathtaking. A quick scan had revealed that the intricate crown molding along the ceiling was solid gold, rather than simply gold leaf. The casual display of wealth was not lost on the Greengrasses. They could not have asked for finer accommodations.

The ponies were allies to be valued, in terms of both wealth and power. The swell of magic during both sunset and sunrise gave credence to that assertion. It was disturbing how nonchalant the nurse had been when she had explained it was just the princesses raising and lowering the sun and moon. Grindelwald, Dumbledore, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named couldn’t begin to dream of matching such a feat, even working together. Anyone stupid enough to regard the equines as nothing more than insignificant, if intelligent, animals was in for a rude awakening.

The power that the ponies could bring to bear was staggering, even if one were to discount what a simple school mom from their herd had done to the mighty Dumbledore in a fit of rage. It would be best not to forget that. Only a fool would refuse the opportunity to extend an olive branch to the ponies. It would be much better for the wizarding world to cultivate friendly relations with their equine counterparts, much better.

More astonishing than their power was their sheer generosity. They had saved Astoria from a lifetime of wasting away simply because she was a child in distress. They had shown no thought of recompense, only a thirst to see justice served against anyone who would dare harm an innocent.

Thus, Lord Greengrass was somber as he shared an early lunch with his wife on the grand balcony of their suite. They had been served bowls of rich fish chowder that was teeming of neat cubes of root vegetables and aromatics. The delectable white broth was indescribably delicious, as were the fluffy biscuits that were served on the side. He didn’t need to exchange words with his wife; they both knew that it was imperative to stay in the good graces of their hostesses. The potential rewards were immeasurable.

An owl that seemed to fly in from nowhere derailed his train of thought. It dropped off a single sheet of newsprint before flying back into something he could not perceive. The familiar masthead of the "Daily Prophet" surprised him; he had already received the morning edition, and the infrequent extra editions were traditionally distributed in the evening. A midday issue would surely contain earth-shattering news.

Tentatively, Lord Greengrass reached for the lone sheet to see what could warrant the apparent waste of paper.

A rare gasp passed his lips as he read.

In ninety-point font, the headline screamed, "WIZARDING WORLD SECRET NO MORE!"





In the large luxury apartment, the children collectively groaned when yet another newsflash took a bite from the cartoon that was projected on the wall. It seemed as though every five minutes, another snippet of information about the discovery of magic preempted their program. This time, however, they found something that was actually interesting.

“Wow,” Abigail said, leaping from the couch. “They are suspending the Statute of Secrecy and underaged magic laws. That’s great!”

“Not much point for either now, after what just happened in New York.” Dean shrugged. “I’ll bet that was some kind of record for summoning noodles.”

“They need to stop breaking into the cartoons for stuff like that,” Eva complained.

“It was funny.” Rosie smirked. “Like when that thing broke from that thing and hit the other thing.”

“Yeah, someone was really using their noodle,” Abigail agreed. “I’m glad the news managed to catch that on camera.”

“I don’t know,” Dean wavered. “It might have put me off spaghetti for life.”

“I know what you mean,” Eva said. “I’m never going to be able to look at a plate of it again and not think of screaming cats.”

“It was funny though,” Rosie insisted.

“I’ll bet Diagon Alley is all in an uproar,” Dean said.

“We should go check,” Abigail replied.

“There’s an idea,” Dean said. “We could floo over for a look.”

Abigail tapped her chin. “I feel like flying. We could see how the muggles are reacting while we're at it.” 

“Me broom is back at me house, in me trunk.” 

“Like you need your broom to follow me,” Abigail scolded. “I, on the other hand, wouldn’t be comfortable out there without my broom right now, even with my welding goggles.”

“True enough.” Rosie perked up.

“No, you’re staying here,” Dean insisted. “Remember what happened last time you tried flying in windy conditions?”

“That’s no fair,” Rosie protested. 

“Tough,” Dean replied. “We won’t be long; just watch telly.”

“I’ll tell mum you weren’t watching us,” Eva threatened.

“Abigail’s mum is just in the other room,” Dean countered. “I’m just going to nip off and have some fun with my friend for a bit. Besides, I got you all that candy and mince pies yesterday; you owe me.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Abigail said. “We won’t be gone long.”

A few minutes later, Abigail was on her broom, reveling in her newfound freedom. Next to her, Dean flapped his wings, easily keeping pace. Laughing, Abigail added a clockwise barrel roll around him to make things interesting. In response, Dean completed the rolling scissors, winding around her with a counterclockwise barrel roll.





Normally, crowds did not gather on the sidewalk on the day after a major snowstorm. The risk of freezing off body parts would normally prompt people to seek shelter. This crowd was far from normal as they huddled together, bundled up, sharing hot tea from flasks. Normal people did not just gather just to stare resolutely between a bookstore and its neighbor, a nondescript record store, when the cold would leave a penguin begging for relief.

Every now and then, someone would start to wander off, only to be nudged by their neighbor who would then jerk their head in the direction everyone was staring. That person would then shake their head dazedly before rejoining the group effort.

“What cha doing?” a little girl’s voice asked with curiosity that only the young can manage.

Instead of answering, the crowd turned their heads upward as one to face the disturbance. There was no way a little girl should be so tall. To their collective surprise, the girl was looking down at them in confusion. The shock of seeing her standing on what appeared to be a broom was only compounded by the fact that she was standing upside down.

On any normal day, her sudden appearance would have been what grabbed everyone's attention. Today, however, she was upstaged by her friend, who was perched normally, on top of the broom.

“It’s a pretty pink pegasus pony!” some lady in the crowd declared.

“I’m fuchsia!” insisted the pony.

Xenon lights temporarily lit the gloomy morning with stark white light as dozens captured on celluloid what was destined to become an iconic image -- the first muggle-confirmed pony sighting. 

“Please don’t get him started on his color.” The girl grinned. “You have no idea how hard it is to get him to stop.”

“I’m fuchsia!”

“I know, why don’t we get the mandatory little horse joke out of the way instead?” the girl continued.

“Don’t change the subject and don’t ignore me! I'm a bloke, darn it! I’m fuchsia!”

“How are you managing that without having the blood rush to your head?” someone asked.

“Blood rushing to 'er head?” someone else snapped. “Cannot yeh see that she considers gravity optional?”

“It’s not optional,” the girl protested, pointing straight down. “It’s always that way. I’m just ignoring it for nooooooooooow!”

At that point, the girl decided to show off her aerial prowess by rushing through the air in the direction of the very interesting bookstore and the not so interesting record store, only to disappear from view between the abutting buildings, midflight. It was even more impressive because she left her broom behind.

“What?” A colorful head watched his retreating friend.

“Accio pretty pink pegasus pony!” someone called out.

“I’m fuchsiaaaaa!” the pink blur heading toward the bookstore cried out in protest, his voice fading in the distance.

All that was left was a strangely-shaped broom defying logic and floating above the heads of the gathered people, until it, too, suddenly zipped toward the bookstore only to disappear between the buildings like those who went before.





“I’ve never seen a broom hover for so long after losing its rider before,” a wizard in red robes said as he caught the object in his outstretched hand. “What kind is it?”

“That’s a Nimbus 2000,” his partner said from his left.

The first wizard glared dangerously at the two children in front of him. “What did you two think you were doing?”

“Since the Statue of Secrecy was lifted, we just had to go see some real muggles for ourselves,” Abigail said, looking back innocently.

“That was stupid.” The wizard shrunk the broom he was holding. “You had no way of knowing how the muggles were going to react. If it weren’t for the fact that we are stretched thin, I’d haul you in for a good talking to. A night in a cell has a special way of teaching brats like you to look before they leap.”

“You can’t do that,” Abigail huffed. “We didn’t break any laws.”

“Watch me,” the wizard said.

Dean hovered between the two. With his forelegs crossed, he glared at the wizard. "Where do you get off threatening little girls?"

The wizard started to raise his wand.

“Stop it,” the other wizard said. “These two are obviously Gryffindors; you’ll just make it worse if they think you’re offering them a challenge.”

“Humph!” The wizard handed Abigail the shrunken broom before jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “In with you, then.”





Outside the Palace of Westminster, a pair of Life Guards, dressed in their traditional red tunics and polished, plumed helmets flanked the door at the Norman Porch. While they still wore their sabers, the SA80 rifles they wielded and the bandoliers they wore showed that this was anything but a typical day. Their orders had been specific; only the foreign diplomats were to be admitted. Unfortunately, the only description they had been given was that women with gaily-colored hair would be visiting. Only the guard behind the counter had been told how to definitively authenticate the ambassadors.

Under the vaulted ceiling of the entryway, the guard behind the counter groaned to himself as yet another headache headed his way. This would be his fifteenth encounter since the building officially opened. It was only a pair this time, and they looked like they had put in some effort for their appearance, which was more than could be said for the last group. They had been in such a hurry that they hadn’t fully cleaned the dye from their faces, leaving streaks that easily identified them as fakes.

With a plastic smile, the guard greeted his newest annoyances. “Ladies, how are you today, and how may I assist you?” He studiously ignored the women’s vibrant hair colors.

The purple-haired woman with a greenish tinge in her face replied, “We were fine right up until we decided to ride the Knight Bus here.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” the woman with teal hair stated.

The guard looked again at the women; both sported two-tone hair. At least they had studied the news photos carefully.

“Not that bad?” the purple-haired one cried incredulously. “Spinning around like that almost gave me a heart attack.”

“You heard the driver; he hit a patch of ice. Besides, they are supposed to have potions in case of heart attacks,” the teal-haired one stated.

“And having to be resurrected makes me feel better how?” The purple-haired one sighed.

“You’ve been through worse,” the teal-haired one scolded.

The purple haired one sighed again before addressing the guard. “My friend here has just been appointed ambassador to the human world. She is here at the request of the Minister of Magic Xephilius Lovegood.”

“Her and the dozen who came before,” the guard said. “What paperwork do you have to support your claim?”

“Paperwork?” the teal-haired one asked. “I left my scroll at the Granger’s; I didn’t think I’d need it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you interrupt the first meeting between the magicals and non-magicals just because you arrived with a good hair job,” the guard said professionally. “I can, however, get someone to talk to you. Dyes show up remarkably well under a microscope.”

“You like our hair?” the teal-haired one breathed. “T-Thanks.”

It was now the guard's turn to sigh. This was the clumsiest attempt to flirt so far. He said, “You clearly put a lot of effort into it. I must admit I’m impressed.”

“Really?” The teal-haired woman’s eyes were round with surprise. “I can’t say that I put much effort into it today.”

“Lyra,” her friend interrupted.

The teal-haired woman waved her hand absently in her companion’s direction. “Just a minute Twilight. So, um, what’s your name?”

The guard stared at the purple-haired woman. Something about her was definitely different. “Um,” he said, distracted. “Greenhill.”

“Well, Greenhill are you doing anything tonight?” Lyra asked.

“Um.” Greenhill did not take his attention away from Twilight. He had heard of radiant women before, but this one was glowing. He gave his standard reply for over-enthusiastic women. “I’m in a relationship; his name is Steve.” 

“That’s great!” Lyra said. “Bon Bon and I would love to take the two of you out for supper and a show.

“Lyra,” Twilight repeated with a hint of resignation.

“Um, I’d have to talk to him about it,” Greenhill said. Twilight was beginning to look long in the face.

“I’m sure we could show the two of you a good time.” Lyra puffed up and thrust her chest forward, showing off the exquisite workponyship that Rarity had put into the décolletage. “After all, I am the newest ambassador of Equestria.”

“Lyra!” Twilight snapped.

Greenhill boggled at Twilight. He was now convinced she was telling the truth. “Just a second,” he said, picking up the receiver of a phone. After pressing a few buttons, he spoke into it. “Sir, the pony ambassador is here and is requesting an audience. Yes, sir, this one is authentic.”

“So . . .” Lyra hummed. “Dinner?”

“I’ll talk to . . . um, Steve about it,” Greenhill said.

“Lyra.” Twilight slammed her hooves on the counter in frustration.

“What?” Lyra snapped.

“Ambassador work now. Chase stallions later,” Twilight said.

“You’re one to talk.” Lyra hadn’t taken her eyes off Greenhill.

Greenhill gulped under her smoldering gaze and wondered if he even knew someone named Steve.





The circus atmosphere in the Leaky Cauldron continued unabated as three apprentices to the Hogwarts's potions master managed to steal a well-deserved break. A new distraction had appeared on scene, and the children who had been swarming them had gathered in the middle of the pub to behold the new spectacle. With the enthusiasm of the young, they had thrown themselves headlong into the new game. The adults all smirked as the youngsters all looked straight up and declared in one voice, "Pink!"

“Fuchsia!” came the predictable reply from the rafters.

“Pink!”

“Fuchsia!”

“Pink!”

“Fuchsia!”

“Pink!”

“They’ve been at it for ten minutes now,” Resonant Wave said. “How long do you think he can keep it up?” 

“Hopefully long enough for us to finish our butterbeers,” replied Eutectic Bond.





A triple decker purple bus lurched to a stop in front of a supermarket, somehow not drawing any attention to itself. 

Grace Granger commented over her shoulder as she staggered off the vehicle, “Okay, I recognize this store. It is literally less than two miles from my brother’s house. How did we end up dropping Twilight and Lyra off in London first?”

“Is that a problem?” Luna asked from directly behind her.

“It just seems like extra work.” Harry wobbled slightly as he followed Luna.

“We are strictly first come, first served,” said the driver as he watched his passengers leave his charge. “You all got on together but they declared their destination first.”

“Your service was perfect,” said the last woman to leave; her hair was variegated in equal parts of purple and white. “I, for one, found the trip well worth the time. It is now my favorite form of transportation.”

“Let’s just get those oranges and lemons,” Harry said as his stomach caught up with him.

“And mangos,” Luna added, unaffected.





This was the ultimate nightmare scenario. Her cover had been blown. It was time to pay the price. The relationships she had so carefully cultivated would be disavowed. Every infiltrator had, from the time they were grubs, been taught that the safety of the hive was the top priority. Non-viable covers had to be abandoned, lest harm come to the infiltrator, or, worse, the hive.

There was a bitter irony to a changeling's existence. They fed on love, but their personal feelings meant nothing. Infiltrators were not supposed to grow attached to their targets. How could she have feelings for the ones who were supposed to be mere food? Was it truly happiness that she had found wearing the skin of a stranger? Why did her pony form insist that now was the time for water to leak from her eyes?

Her queen had gone silent after ordering her to go to ground. She could still feel the monarch's presence in the hivemind, but all queries had gone unanswered. Although she was a mere nymph, she knew her hive was counting on her to return for another mission. As soon as Spike's back had been turned, she had slipped out to the busy street. It would only take a moment's distraction, and Clouded Hope would be no more. She would shift to her default identity and await reassignment.

The knowledge that she had helped secure the future of her hive brought little comfort. Her top priority was to find a place where she could change unobserved. She had to get off the busy street so that she could move on with her next life. If only the water in her eyes didn't make it so hard to see where she was going.

She stumbled as her forehoof somehow missed the ground. To her surprise, she no longer felt anything solid under her hooves.

“Where do you think you’re going?” came the voice she least wanted to hear. The magic spun her so that she now faced the pony she least wanted to see.

She gulped before replying, “Why do you care?”

“What kind of question is that?”

She lowered her gaze, unable to look him in the eyes. “You know it’s a lie.”

He shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” she asked.

“You’ve done nothing to deserve my hate.”

“I lied to you.”

“Fillies lie. It’s a fact of life. I’ll let you have a talk with the Element of Honesty.”

She snapped her head up to look at him. “You don’t understand. It’s all a lie. Everything is. All of it.”

“Maybe a lot of lies were told.” He smiled, bringing her close so he could nuzzle her. “My feelings tell me what is true."

"They lie. You are just a victim of deception."

"No. I am your father”





The rosy glow of twilight welcomed the vanquished to the world of the waking. With a groan, she brought a pink forehoof to massaged the point beneath her horn that screamed for relief. She clenched her eyes shut as the light sent needles of pain into her brain.

“You’re awake,” came the voice she had stolen. A hint of menace promised an unpleasant conversation.

“Could I get some aspirin before you start yelling?” she asked.

“Here, let me take care of that.” This time, it was the voice of Celestia. A wave of magic drove the pain away.

She opened her eyes and beheld three alicorns. One still seemed to be irate while the other two looked on with amusement.

“A changeling?” Princess Luna asked, studying the imposter.

“Would you believe I’m a magical accident gone rouge?” she asked.

“Chrysalis,” Princess Cadance growled.

“Fine.” Chrysalis found she was lying on a comfortable bed in a well-appointed suite. “You got me. Why am I still alive? Or at least not imprisoned on the moon?”

“Neither punishment is warranted,” Princess Celestia stated. “We can hardly fault you for taking care of your subjects. Nopony was hurt after all.”

“You ponies are a forgiving lot,” Chrysalis said, letting her head plop back down on her pillow.

“We do try.” Princess Celestia smiled at her encouragingly. 

“You won’t hear me complaining,” Chrysalis said. “So, what happens now?”

"As you sow, so shall you reap," said Princess Luna.

Princess Celestia said, “Since you saw fit to imprison our niece and impersonate her, you will be likewise incarcerated” 

Princess Luna decreed formally, “Thou shall be restricted to these chambers for the duration, isolated from all whom thou might hold dear.”

“Wait.” Chrysalis lifted her head again. “You’re telling me that you are going to keep me locked in here for the same amount of time I held the Princess of Food?”

“Yes. That is correct.” Princess Celestia said. “That is our judgment.”

“Princess of Food?” Princess Cadance asked.

“Here, where nobuggy can visit?” Chrysalis continued.

“That is the idea.” Princess Luna confirmed. “A period of isolation to consider thy crimes.”

"And the Princess of Food here is going to take over all of my duties?"

Princess Cadence snarled, "You took over my life; it's only fair I take over yours."

Chrysalis sat bolt upright. "A vacation?" She leapt from the bed and started pronking around the room. "Yes! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! . . . "

Princess Cadance turned to find that both of her aunts were smirking. The junior princess said, "Somehow, I think I overestimated the impact of this punishment."
> Chapter 81: Preening Pony Preparations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The windows of the snow-covered farmhouse rattled as resounding retching announced the arrival of visitors. A large, taciturn red stallion watched with amusement as a unicorn mare tumbled out of a much-too-small pouch, followed by a pegasus colt. The youngster looked up at the snowy owl who had borne them and said, "Hedwig, this isn't home."

The owl shrugged. "Bark!"

Shaking himself as he stood, Harry said. "Thanks for letting us out, Big Mac. Where's Mum? I thought she'd be the one to let us out."

The large stallion shrugged, needing no words to communicate his lack of news.

Harry shrugged in return. "Thanks again, but we need to hurry home and get these oranges to Mum."

As the pair approached Ponyville proper, they could see a small column of smoke. Anxiously, they moved closer to investigate. It wasn't long before the magic of the music drew them in, soon they joined in the somber chorus as they and a gathering of townsponies circled a bonfire.


"Daughter of the soil, rising to the sky, with the magic of creation around,

The seeds you have planted have borne fertile fruit,

And the daughters of your daughters pay heed to the ground.



Daughter of the soil, rising to the sky, let nopony to your spirit naysay.

Your battle is over; the day has been won.

Go now to rest eternal in fields far away.



Daughter of the soil, rising to the sky, we grant the blessing of earth and its lore.

Go proud farmer, go brave warrior, answer your call.

To home shall you go evermore."


With a final surge, the bonfire flared and reduced its fuel to ash.

After the last note had died, Twilight Velvet gathered her charge and led him over to where she had spotted Bon Bon standing, looking dejected. "What in Equestria is going on?"

"I keep telling them that it's a misunderstanding," Bon Bon growled.

Lily Valley interjected, "It was terrible."

Roseluck added, "It nearly made everypony sick."

"The horror, the horror," added Daisy.

Turning to Carrot Top, Twilight Velvet asked, "Do you have any idea what they're talking about?"

The yellow earth pony answered. "It was horrible. We followed the smell to Bon Bon's shop and found some monster had been cooking its victim in there."

Junebug added, "There wasn't enough of her to identify, so we gave her the traditional sendoff for an earth pony hero."

Bon Bon said, "That was . . ."

Quickly, Harry put his hoof in her mouth and shook his head. He continued. ". . . very kind of you. My people do not know such kindness."

Twilight Velvet sighed and said, "Come on, you two. We'll have to see what we can do for supper."

As the three entered Bon Bon's shop, the scent of smudging hung heavy in the air. Harry asked, "Who has the thyme?"

Bon Bon wrinkled her nose. "I guess we'll have to let things air out overnight. Why didn't you let me explain?"

"I don't think they would have understood, Mum. That reminds me, how did you wash the chitterlings?"

Puzzled, Bon Bon asked, "Wash?"

"Aaaaand that's all of the explanation needed," Harry commented.

"Um, not that I don't appreciate you looking after Harry," Bon Bon said, eyeing the other mare. "But, where's Lyra?"

"She got called into work." Harry said.

"Called into work?" Bon Bon narrowed her eyes. "Lyra is a freelance, she doesn't have a job that would call her in."

"She does now," Twilight Velvet said. "So, are we going to ride your owl back to the human world and get take out?"





In the sanctuary of his private chambers, occlumency had calmed the storms of his troubled mind. With all the conflicting thoughts and feelings sorted and filed, the heart of the matter was crystal clear. Fools rush in where wise men fear to tread, and he was no fool. His choice was a mistake, the very definition of folly. What was he thinking? Why could he not change course?

There had been far more urgent matters that he had been obligated to attend. Over the last two days, the revelation of magic had not just poked the proverbial hornet's nest; it had torn the thing down and used it as a football. It seemed as though the entire world was abuzz. With all the hubbub, something should have blown up. Something should have been melted to goo. Someone should have been burned at the stake, or worse. Miraculously, none of that had come to pass. The majority of muggles were treating it like a holiday where long-lost relatives arrived out of the blue to the welcoming arms of family. The revelation had come not with a bang, but a whimper.

There was a vocal and well-armed minority, however. They shouted and screamed that magic was the work of evil. They demanded that the heretics be purified with fire. They ran into the full force of reason; the majority shunned them as undesirables. They ran into the full force of law; their threats of harm against the magical were treated as serious crimes, just as such threats would have been had they been leveled at the muggles. The governments of the world were insisting on extending the same rights, privileges, and expectations on the magical that they would on any citizen.

He rather suspected that it was a collective effort to impress the newly unveiled ponies. The muggles seemed determined to prove they were ready to sit at the grown-ups table. Then again, there was also something to be said about cuddling with a colorful bundle of happiness.

The muggleborn had taken to the situation without so much as skipping a beat. After the first display of broom riding by a first-year, the floodgates had opened. Those not brought up in the magical world had been all too willing to show off what they had been learning. Now, seeing children flying around had lost some of its novelty. It was becoming increasingly common to see sixth-year and seventh-year Hufflepuffs zipping about from place to place. They had formed a delivery service that rivaled anything the muggles could provide. The name of their business was perplexing, though; why had they chosen a name reminiscent of locksmithing? What was the significance of keys?

Not everything had gone smoothly. To say that the muggle's gold market collapsed overnight would be greatly understating the time it took for that commodity to lose the bulk of its value. Who would have thought the economists had already considered the implications of suddenly being confronted by a society wielding a surplus of the metal? They already had a plan in reserve just in case it ever happened. Instead of the values of galleons and bits following the market of gold, the market of gold had crashed to the value of galleons and bits. Fortunes were lost in a literal blink of an eye. Luckily, despite the common misunderstanding, minted monies did not rely solely on their composition for their monetary value. Still, it was disconcerting to equate a piece of once-precious metal to a piece of paper.

The tumult, however, seemed to be a side note to the discovery of ponies. The muggle world could not get enough of them. The equines seemed as reclusive as the Loch Ness Monster, and, in desperation, the press had taken to reporting rumors and speculation. So little information was surfacing that any that even seemed like fact had been eagerly devoured by a rabid public.

But certain facts still remained. One was staring him in the face; ponies were polygamous. This very evening, he was going on a date with two of them -- at their invitation.

Minerva had insisted that he purchase new robes for the occasion.

She had told him to relax and have a good time.

Filius had told him to use cologne after bathing, not instead of bathing.

. . .

This was a bad idea.





Carousel Boutique abounded with alien forms. It seemed not so long ago that their appearance would have had the pony in the street fleeing in terror. Time had proven that those born in the form were, for all practical purposes, ponies, except for their shape.

"I don't know, Rarity." Rainbow Dash ran her hands down the shimmering cyan A-line dress she wore. "Froufrou is not my style."

"Darling, I don't know why you are fixated on that term." Rarity sniffed. "I'll have you know that what you are wearing doesn't come close to embodying that phrase in the least."

"I don't know, Rarity." Rainbow complained. "It just seems to scream, 'Look, I'm a filly!'."

"Rainbow, darling, in case it escaped your notice, you are a mare. When you wear an ensemble flattering your form, that point is going to come across."

"I know, but. . . but . . . but . . ." Rainbow sputtered.

"I could always add some lace," Rarity suggested.

"On second thought, my body is awesome. Why hide behind lace?"

"Ah think y'all are bound to make the right impression with that thar outfit," Applejack said supportively as she eyed her own dress in a triptych mirror. "At least y'all didn't let Rarity talk you into lace, like Ah did."

"Says the mare who is bringing her stallion to Canterlot for their date," Rainbow groused. "Twilight is dragging me and Pinkie to the human world since Sirius can't take pony form."

"I think we look super wonderiffically yummy," Pinkie said, bouncing around, showing off her dress and her human form. She hopped up and down as well.

"I'm not sure 'yummy' is a term I want to be using when your date happens to like consuming meat," Rarity stated, turning her attention to Zecora. "How about you? Could I interest you in some last-minute lacey additions?"

Zecora looked at herself in the mirror next to Applejack before saying. "Perhaps, to ensure our catch, it would be better if we match."

"That's a 'yes' if I ever heard one." Rarity said, floating some lace and thread in her magic. "Ooooh, I'm so excited for you."

"It's not like you don't have your own date tonight," Twilight said, adjusting her own dress.

"True, but that doesn't mean I can't be excited for all of you as well," Rarity said.

"We are going to make this a night the stallions won't soon forget," Pinkie declared passionately.

"Y'all can be sure of that," Applejack agreed.

"Just remember to act like proper ladies," Rarity cautioned.

"Ah don't have nuthin' to prove," Applejack said. "Ah'm not a prissy noble."

Twilight chuckled. "And what kind of noble are you, then?"

"Tha kind with no title," Applejack stated.

"Well that is ironically erroneous," Twilight said. "Knight Elemental, Honesty is a substantial title to hold, after all."

"Doesn't make me no noble though," Applejack insisted.

"Actually, it does," Twilight rebutted. "Didn't you read the proclamation I gave you?"

"Proclamation?" Rarity asked.

"Yes, Celestia sent one for each of us not too long after I started staying in Ponyville," Twilight said. "Didn't you read yours?"

"It's not like Twilight got distracted trying to get Applejack to accept our help harvesting all the apples because her brother was injured and she maintained that she could do it all herself only it left her really tired resulting in all kinds of happenstances not the least of which was the baked bads or Rainbow crashing through the library or bunnies everywhere! Twilight couldn't have stuffed the proclamations in her desk drawer, completely forgetting about them."

"Even knowing the answer is Pinkie being Pinkie, I must contend that leap of logic is far from dinky," said the zebra in the room.

Rarity gurgled her agreement.

"Are y'all saying we are all noble-like ponies now?" Applejack asked cautiously.

"Yes. Did you think ponies were calling you Lady Applejack for no reason?" Twilight said. "I'm so sure I passed out the official proclamations."

"Nope, you dropped the ball on that one." Rainbow looked down at the dress she was wearing. "Lady Rainbow Dash, huh? I guess I should go for some lace after all."

"Coming right up, Darling!"

"Woah! Woah! I was joking. You hear me! Joking!"

"Just a little. To commemorate learning about our titles." Rarity insisted, distracted by an elusive goal.

"You keep that pink lace away from me!"

Rarity sighed, "Pink has been getting such a bad rap this season. How would you feel about magenta?"

"That's still pink!"

"Fuchsia?"

"Rarity, cool it with the lace!"

"Charcoal grey? It would really frame your form." Rarity suggested.

"Jus' out of curiosity. How many shades of lace do y'all have in stock?" Applejack asked.

"The patterns are more important for classification, but I have four hundred and forty-two shades on hoof, not counting my fifty shades of gray," Rarity said.

Pinkie stopped hopping, suspended in mid-air in surprise. "Wait? There are four hundred and forty-two different shades of color?" she asked before she continued to bounce.

Twilight shrugged. "I suppose it's possible; I've never committed to learning all the names of the different shades."

"Rarity knows something Twilight doesn't?" Rainbow asked.

Twilight snorted. "A book on theoretical seven-dimensional spell matrixes by Composite Mosaic came out when I reached the shelves in the library dealing with chromatic differentiation. I just haven't had the inclination or time to revisit the subject."

"Woah, Twilight admitting that she decided not to read a book." Rainbow whistled. "We need to mark that on the calendar."

"Surely, I must have misheard. What you want to mark is absurd. News of nobility and dates abounds. Yet word of ignoring a book astounds?" Zecora asked.

"Ah'm going to have to side with Dash on this one," Applejack said. "The thought of our Twilight not reading a book is right out thar."

"Yeah, get a load of this." With those words Rainbow sauntered over and snatched a book off a counter before rushing over and opening a window."

"Don't you dare!" Twilight rumbled menacingly.

"Look! A book on froufrou!" Rainbow declared, tossing the tome out the window.

"Rainbow!" Rarity gasped.

"Book! Book! Don't mistreat the book!" Twilight rushed to the window, whipping out her wand.

"See!" Rainbow said smugly.

Zecora said, "While that did have a style and was daring. I fear that in your action you are erring."

"What?" Rainbow asked, turning to look at Twilight who was now levitating a snow-covered book and several bolts of lace.

"Just remember, you brought this upon yourself." Twilight said with a smirk.

"I suggest you start with the Phancy rose," Rarity advised, taking her book from Twilight.





Peter slept the sleep of the righteous. It was a fitting reward for a righteous victory. If he were one to brag, he would have said that he had nailed it. While things had not gone as planned, it was no exaggeration to say that the result was sweeter than he'd ever dreamed possible. He could not remember the last time he had the luxury of sleeping in his birth form before this win; now, he no longer had to wear the guise of a lowly rodent. The only thing it had cost was his freedom. In truth, it wasn't something he really missed. Having spent years as a pet, he had grown accustomed to having others provide for his every need.

He realized in hindsight that he should have been more careful. After all, Murphy was an optimist. It had seemed that everything had been going according to plan. The town he had selected was perfect. It was so small as to lack the resources for vector control, yet it was still large enough to have a respectable selection of potential beauties. Best of all, the natives had neither horns nor wings. They had promised to be easy prey.

Years of pent-up desire had fueled his impatience. Still, he should have taken more time in learning the locals' routines. His first mark had taken a deserted alleyway on her way home from work. She was a lovely mare with a smoky grey coat that was highlighted by a flaming auburn mane and tail. In his rat form, he had entered the alley, unnoticed. When he switched back to human, he had cast a simple Disillusionment Charm and had lain in wait. He had the mare enthralled with the Imperious Curse before she had even realized he was there. To his delight, she had the flatness in her eyes that indicated being under his complete control, despite also showing the terror that threatened to break through.

Having decided the exhibitionism was not to his liking, he had transfigured back into his rat form and had hidden himself in his victim's mane. From there, he had commanded her to take him to her boudoir. The room had screamed so loudly with femininity that in his mounting excitement, he had almost forgotten to cast the silencing and privacy charms. Impatiently, he had torn a handful of transfiguration rings out of his pocket and slammed them onto an end table. Snatching one, he had held it out to her and had directed her to put it in her mouth. He could almost have sworn that her eyes had widened once she had complied.

His next command was to have her concentrate on taking on his image. He had found the results to be stunning. While she had not been the perfect blonde that he had encountered in Ponyville, she had proven to be an undeniably healthy specimen. Best of all, the Imperious Curse had made her his for the taking. With a lecherous grin, he had told her to place the ring on her finger; the grin had only faded slightly when he had discovered that he had needed to explain what a finger was. Compared to that, vanishing the pink abomination that she had worn had been child's play.

He had lost track of time as he savored his conquest. He could have sworn that she had actually been enjoying the experience more than he. He had finally found a receptacle for years of frustration. Like all good things, however, this had come to an end all too quickly; years of living as a pet rat had sapped his endurance. He had slept with a smile that had left no doubt as to what had transpired.

He had discovered that years of living as a pet rat had also led to developing a bad habit. He had learned to tune out conversations as he slept. After all, the droning of his former benefactor, Percy, had proven to be the perfect soporific; the classes the boy had been taking had been boring enough when Peter had suffered through them. Talk had meant study. Study had meant neglect. Neglect had meant nap time.

Quavering, an airy voice had asked, "Will that really hold it?"

"The buffalos claim it will grant control over anything from a different plane of existence," a firmer voice had said. "It should keep it corralled and stop it from changing its shape."

"It looks dangerous," the airy voice had said. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I have to admit, when he took control of my body, I thought I was a goner," a tight third voice had said. "But, almost as soon as he had me in my room, he relinquished dominance and gave me a ring that lets me take a form he finds appealing. After that, he got real friendly."

"We can smell," the airy voice had said with an audible pout. "You should have left some for us!"

The third voice replied, "It's not like I had a say in the matter; besides, he was . . . prompt."

"You'll get your turn," the firm second voice had said soothingly. "We've captured an incubus. Are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

The airy voice had replied, "I think so, but let's see if those rings really work." After a brief pause, the voice exclaimed, "Oh!"

The firm second voice had said, "I think there are a few kinks we have to consider."

Excitedly, the airy voice had said, "We can make this work. It will be the perfect therapy pet for our hospice."

"Just don't forget to get his stick," the third voice had said. "I'm sure that's what he used to control me."

"Won't it hurt to break off his stick?" the airy voice had asked.

"His other stick," the firm second voice had said. "And all of the rings, too."

Peter had continued to ignore them; he had snuggled deeper into the covers, blissfully unaware of what was to come, and unaware of the coming bliss.





The light of day faded early, as was its custom during the winter months. The darkness it had illuminated discovered an unexpected windfall. The rarity of treasure such as this was beyond measure. Along the deserted back road, trudging through ankle-deep snow, was a waif. No more than eleven, she was dressed in tattered clothing not suited for such cold. Since they were many miles from the nearest dwelling, this could only mean one thing.

The man pulled their nondescript hatchback to a stop alongside her. Even before the car had come to a complete stop, his wife rolled down her window and stuck her head out. In a tone of motherly concern, she said, "Dear, what are you doing out here so late?"

The young girl had stopped walking as soon as they had appeared and was now peering at them with eyes full of hope. "I got lost."

The wife tsked. "Where are your parents?"

At that, the girl seemed to deflate. "I don't have any." She said with unshed tears, "They died when I was a baby."

"That's just awful." The wife's voice oozed with compassion. "Well, we sure aren't leaving you to your own devices out here in the middle of nowhere. You just climb into the back seat. We'll be taking you home and getting you a nice hot meal."

The girl stared suspiciously for a few seconds before relenting. "Thank you," she said as she squeezed past the older woman. Just like, that their collection had grown. It was almost too easy.

"We've got four girls about your age back on our farm," the wife informed the child as the girl buckled her seatbelt.

The man chuckled at the thought of training their newest acquisition. "I'm sure they will welcome you with open arms.

"I can't wait to meet them." The girl smiled brightly, settling into the back seat.

"So, what are we to call you?" his wife asked, keeping the conversation going.

"My friends call me OB."





With Azkaban now a distant memory and again being in the company of friends and family, Sirius finally found contentment. There was no denying that the last few days had been tumultuous, but he could honestly say that they had been exhilarating as well. It had hardly seemed possible that so many events could be crammed into such a short timeframe. Meeting his mother-in-law had kicked off the bedlam that had snowballed from there. Luckily, the perfect excuse to escape that awkward situation had been dropped in his lap. The foundation of their society had collapsed with the revocation of the Statute of Secrecy, and he was obligated to lend his aid to the Ministry.

Sirius had arrived at the Ministry, confident that they had made provisions for every contingency. The Unspeakables were supposed to have access to every prophecy, every seer. The second he had surrendered his wand; he had discovered their secret plan was that there was no plan. Witches and wizards had been running every which way, like chickens with their heads cut off. More than a few Reparo spells had been cast as people had run into decorations, plants, walls, and anything else in the path of panicked escape.

It had taken a half hour before Sirius had come to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do to help. At that point, he had decided to wade through the sea of panicked bodies to visit the Hall of Records. When he had helped himself to the Black family records, it had come as no surprise that his days of bachelorhood were officially at an end. Whatever had convinced the Black family tapestry to recognize Twilight as his wife had been picked up by the self-updating records at the Ministry as well. Someone had pranked him hard. Somehow, he had missed his own wedding, something that took some serious skill, no pun intended.

That night had been memorable as well. Twilight had brought over her family, cementing the fact that ponies did not have family names. Sirius was half-convinced that her older brother had been adopted. The blue-haired slab of muscle could not possibly be the offspring of the unimposing man Twilight had introduced as her father. Shining Armor's subsequent attempts at brotherly intimidation would have been comical if not for the fact that Sirius was positive the pony-turned-man could quite literally snap him in half without breaking a sweat.

Sirius would not soon forget the following morning. Arthur Weasley had stopped by on his way to the Ministry. The crisis had forced Arthur to cut short his vacation, but he had taken the time to ask a favor of Sirius. He had asked for his son Charlie to be invited over for breakfast so that the lad might be introduced to Sirius's stepson. So, it had come to pass that a noticeably stocky Weasley spawn had sat at the table, smelling of hellfire and brimstone, and had made acquaintance with a certain purple-scaled, fire-breathing lithovore who had yet to call Sirius "father". Sirius had been sure that causality had been ruptured. There was no other logical explanation for the girlish squeals of delight that had permeated the room.

It was so hard to believe that those events had occurred only a few days earlier. To Sirius, it had seemed that a lifetime had passed already. He could not help but smile. This was to be a special night. He had taken pains to procure muggle formal wear. His wife had done her part by using her connections to secure reservations at the fanciest three-star restaurant in London. Dressed to the nines, Sirius, his cousins, and their men waited for the rest of the party. Twilight had mentioned that she would be arriving with two of her friends.

Sirius could only smile when Owlowiscious flew into the room, hooting a greeting. Andi brandished her wand and did the honors. To the dismay of the executive chef, the restaurant momentarily lost a half star from its rating as the bag loudly announced the arrival of three beautiful ladies. Two lay in a heap on the floor while the third had managed to stay on her feet and bounce around with unrestrained enthusiasm.

"Hello! I'm Pinkie Pie, and you must be Sirius Black; Twilight has told us so much about you, because we are her friends and she wants us to be friends with you because that's what friends do and I'm friends with everypony in Ponyville because that's what I do so you wanna be friends?"

Ted did his best to focus only on the shock of pink hair in front of him. "Hello, Miss Pie, my name is Ted Tonks. This is my wife Andromeda." He pointed at the head of house Black. "He's Sirius."

Pinkie noted that the other man's eyes seemed to be following something moving back and forth. "Nah, I'd say he's tracking."

"I can see that the first thing we need to do is introduce you to the concept of support," Andi noted with a smirk. "Your human form is going to need it."

"Okay, my family has a mine, so I know all about trusses and trestles, but I'm always happy to learn something new. Maybe I can teach you how to bake vanilla cherry swirl cupcakes later."

"You look beautiful tonight." Sirius greeted Twilight as she and her other friend picked themselves off the floor. The final new arrival had the most ponyish hair he had yet to come across. Her pert, petite form was wrapped in layers of colorful lace, making it hard for Sirius to think of her as a grown woman instead of a little girl.

"Thank you, Sirius." Twilight beamed. "I'd like to introduce you to Rainbow Dash, one of my best friends. You've already met Pinkie. Girls, this is my husband Sirius Black, his cousins Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Black, as well as their stallions Edward Tonks and Remus Lupin."

"It is nice to meet two such lovely ladies," Sirius said. "I must say your dresses are gorgeous."

"Do you really think so?" Pinkie said, hopping over to stand next to the other ponies. "Rarity put so much effort into them. She even made it so I can slip it to the side and easily show off my cutie marks. See, here it is; do you like?"

Sirius gawked and staged whispered to his fellow Marauder. "Help me here, Remus."

"There is no safe answer." Remus said as he shifted away.

Sharply, Narcissa said, "Sit! Stay!" Remus sighed as he complied.

"She did the same thing for me. Here's my cutie mark; isn't it awesome?" Rainbow Dash beamed. "It also lets me do a wicked tenshokyaku."

"It's going to be a long night." Ted opined.

Andi broke out laughing. "I think what they're trying to say is, 'welcome to the herd'."





The consensus among Equestria's travel magazines was that this suite was one of the finest available for rent. Its accommodations were surpassed only by the homes of the richest of the rich and by the suites of the princesses themselves. The two mares who waited within were far too nervous to appreciate the lavish décor. The room had not even been their choice; the hotel staff had insisted that the two have the best once they discovered that the pair consisted of a close friend and a sister of one of the new owners. The fact that the sister was also Knight Elemental, Honesty only added to management's determination that the two have nothing but praise for the accommodations.

Somehow, the tension in the room doubled when an owl bearing a pouch arrived. After taking several deep breaths to prepare herself, Applejack placed her hoof on the satchel and said the command phrase. The effects were immediate and dramatic. A set of polite taps came from the door as a stallion said, "Concierge. Does anypony need assistance?"

Applejack spared a glance a a decidedly red-faced Snape before replying, "False alarm. I left my lunch in San Franciscolt."

With what little dignity he could muster, Snape accepted Applejack's hand. He suppressed a gasp as she bodily lifted him to his feet.

Stepping back, Applejack whistled appreciatively before saying, "Yer lookin' mighty fine in them thar duds."

"Thank you," Severus said, using his occlumency to mask his stage fright. He glanced down at his sleeve as he straightened his robes. "I find I must return the compliment; you are looking absolutely ravishing this evening." Looking over, he added, "As are you, my dear Zecora." With those words, he completed the first two items from the mental checklist that Minerva had made him memorize.

"Your courteous words, I admit, leave me contented." Zecora blushed. "Matched with your appearance, the feeling is cemented."

"Well, now, we have a mighty fine evening planned fer y'all," Applejack said. "Rarity helped us plan it with all sorts of things guaranteed to impress a stallion."

"I am certain whatever you have planned will be marvelous" Severus said, releasing some of his tension as he realized the two women were just as jittery as he was. "It is your company that I look forward to the most."

"Before our attention starts to drift," Zecora said, producing a small velvet-covered box. "We have for you this small and simple gift."

"Thank you," Severus said, thinking of the flowers he had stowed in the owl's pouch but hadn't retrieved yet. "You shouldn't have." Inside the box was a simple copper ring that Severus recognized immediately. "I see. So, this evening shall be done as ponies."

"Yah; y'all have seen us as human. Ah can't wait to see what kind of pony y'all make."

With a flourish, Severus donned the ring and shrank to his pony form. His coat was midnight blue, bordering on black while his mane maintained its sheer ebony shade. The leather wings he folded against his side meant only one thing; his winning streak in the school's pony betting pool was still intact.
> Chapter 82: Two and a Half Dates
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The anchorman smiled brightly at the camera and said, "Up next, we have breaking news from our 0921 SAW PONY hotline." The background displayed two photos, one sharp, in full color, and the other grainy, in black and white. "At this time, we still only have images of two individuals in their natural forms. Our favorite anonymous pink pegasus pony has had his picture sent in by multiple viewers. Confirmation of the other pony, along with her ability to change her form, come courtesy of tipsters Geoff and Steve. This purple pony has been identified as Twilight Sparkle, aide to the pony ambassador."

His partner, a vivacious blonde, tittered lightly before saying, "Our colour experts say that the proper names for their coat colors are fuchsia and periwinkle. We have multiple reports that Twilight Sparkle is part of a party of eight at Le Sourire Escargot. While we have no information on the identities of the diners, the five who were waiting for her are assumed to be witches and wizards."

Incredulously, the anchorman read, "She arrived with two companions in an owl's pouch." Looking to one side, he said, "Can we confirm this? Are we talking about some sort of blimp, or did someone get the stories mixed up?" He touched his ear and nodded. Looking back at the camera, he said, "We have confirmation that they were in a pouch carried by a normal-sized crested owl. Apparently, magic was employed."

"The striking hair color of her companions suggests that they, too, are ponies in human form." The blonde continued. "Expert opinion is that the pink-haired one is a pegasus; she had been observed hanging in mid-air with no visible means of support. The other companion is more of a mystery; she has at least six distinct colour bands in her hair."

A grainy photo appeared in the background. The anchorman continued, "This photo was faxed in to our hotline. You can see that Twilight Sparkle and her two companions are all dressed to the nines."

"The little one looks so cute in that dress," commented the blonde. "She may have gone overboard with the lace, though."

The anchorman said, "She's the epitome of femininity. Even I know it takes hours to make one's hair look that wind-swept and natural."

"That outfit is so elegant," added his partner. "I'll bet she's the very definition of refined. Now, we can only hope there will be more information soon. We have a news team en route. Perhaps they will be willing to give an interview after their meal."





Twilight glared at Sirius and growled. "I can't believe you introduced Pinkie to flaming desserts."

"The omelette à la norvégienne is their signature dish," Sirius shot back.

"Aquamenti!" Remus cried out. Both Andi and Ted lent their wands to the fight.

"The tablecloth!" Rainbow pointed. "Don't forget the tablecloth!"

Twilight glared at Sirius as the flames grew higher. "Fire and heartsongs do not belong together."

Pinkie Pie popped up. "We got this. Hit it, boys!" Wielding carbon dioxide fire extinguishers, she and a quartet of waiters surrounded the table and danced in a circle. Magic filled the air as the head waiter led the chorus as they kept time with puffs from their fire extinguishers.





Lord Greengrass had his family standing beside him as he made a point of personally receiving his guests in the foyer of their mansion. While it was a formal thank you for an unsolicited act of generosity, he had directed his wife and daughters to wear their very best. He wanted to make a good impression on their influential company. In hindsight, he was ecstatic that he had made that decision. Mrs. Belle and her daughter had arrived wearing splendid gowns of undeniable quality and sporting neck pieces dripping with sapphires. Either piece was worth a small fortune; together, they spoke of daunting wealth.

This ostentatious display paled before the sheer power they were casually exhibiting. The younger female had her phoenix on her shoulder, a clear reminder of the seat she held on the Wizengamot as well as confirmation of the magical prowess she commanded. This only highlighted the reality that the elder had triumphed over Albus Dumbledore himself. They promised to be powerful allies if properly cultivated.

"Ladies," Lord Greengrass said diplomatically. "Welcome to our home. It is our desire that this will be the inception of a staunch relationship between all of us."

Mrs. Belle blushed prettily as she replied, "Lord Greengrass, you are so forward. This is only our first rendezvous. Compatibility must be explored first."

Lord Greengrass came forward and lifted Mrs. Belle's outstretched hand for a formal kiss on her knuckles. "I am confident that we can work towards that objective. Please allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Greengrass. I do hope the two of you become close. You are, of course, familiar with my eldest, Daphne. Next to her is my youngest, Astoria." The girls curtseyed as they were introduced.

"Yes," Mrs. Belle said firmly. "I look forward to my time with you and your wife, but it is imperative that the children get along as well."

"I agree," Lord Greengrass said. "We do have some time before supper is ready. Won't you join my wife and myself in the sitting room? The children can be left to their own devices for the time being."

As he led the women from the room, Lord Greengrass failed to hear the younger Belle comment to his daughter. "You know, Daphne, I don't think your father and Rarity are reading from the same notes."





The wizarding world's primary paradigm had shifted without a clutch, and Amelia's department had spent the past couple of days picking up the pieces. The change currently commanding her attention was one that had been reported to her months ago, but only now could she fully process it. A pink pony foal lay sprawled across her lap, savoring the sensation of the curry comb that Amelia ran down her back. Intellectually, Amelia knew it was less than proper to treat her niece Susan in such a manner; the girl was well past the age for such shows of affection. At the same time, the woman could not deny how right it felt; the serenity projected by the two of them snuggling in a chair in front of the fireplace was picture perfect.

Amelia sighed. As much as she appreciated having time to bond with her niece, she felt that she should be out leading the damage control effort. Her office staff, however, disagreed. Scrimgeour had orchestrated a mutiny. At his direction, the entire department had refused to do any more work that evening unless Amelia got at least a day's real rest. They had been dismayed to learn that she had been working for forty-eight hours straight due to the outpouring of chaos. They had told Amelia in no uncertain terms that she was risking the health of her baby, and that they could manage without her constant oversight. Their concern would have been endearing if it hadn't denied her the only action she had seen in months.

Hope flared as, without warning, the flames in the fireplace turned green and Scrimgeour's voice asked, "Boss, may I please come through?"

With well-hidden anticipation, Amelia tightened her lips and replied, "Yes, Rufus."

When the wizard stepped out of the fire, he held out a sheet of parchment and said. "I'm sorry to intrude on your quiet time, but I need your signature."

"There are precious few things that you can't sign for yourself," Amelia noted, still brushing Susan who was looking at Scrimgeour curiously.

"The blasted Unspeakables won't release their new prototype portkey reader without a direct order from you," Scrimgeour said. "That new program of distributing evacuation portkeys tied to a room in St. Mungo's just proved its worth. Now we need to track where the victims came from."

"Victims?" Amelia thought of the new program in question. The new Minister had ordered the creation of thousands of glass portkeys, each the size and shape of a robin's egg. They were left in well-traveled places, like the Leaky Cauldron and the foyer of St. Mungo's, with instructions for all interested to take a few for themselves, friends, and family. The portkeys were just one of the precautions he was taking.

"Four young muggle girls were portkeyed into the receiving room," Scrimgeour said. "They were poorly used, suffering from systematic mental, physical, and sexual abuse. They claim that their 'owners' had brought in a new girl who gave them the portkeys as soon as the five of them were alone. The new girl wasn't one of the children who escaped. For all we know, she's facing those monsters all by herself. I need that reader to tell me where they came from; a rescue team is already assembled. Someone on the other end is in dire need of a Crucio."

"That spell will land you in Azkaban," Amelia reminded him, signing the parchment.

"That doesn't change the fact that they would deserve it."





Having never before witnessed a transformation from human-born to pony, Applejack and Zecora had been pleasantly surprised to find that Severus had thoroughly exposed himself to pony sensibilities. However, that had also left him underdressed for an evening on the town as his brand-new dress robes vanished into dimensional space, waiting for his return to human form. The concierge had hustled him off when Applejack and Zecora had explained their situation.

Fifteen minutes later, a gentle tapping ended the mares' anxious waiting. Zecora opened the door, revealing Severus in a black tailcoat with his wings protruding through slits in the back. A white waistcoat, white wing collared dress shirt, and white bow tie completed his ensemble.

Applejack whistled appreciatively as soon as the newly-minted stallion reentered the suite, while Zecora simply stared before saying, "Please excuse me for standing here acting dumb. But all I can think and feel is 'oh so yum'."

"I find I'm at a loss for words," Severus said. "I am, however, glad you approve."

"Here now, thar is no need fer y'all to be all modest like." Applejack said, sidling up to stand next to Severus. "Y'all make one fine specimen fer a pony."

Zecora joined her by standing on the other side of the stallion. "We wish to make everything clear. Our plan is to hold you most dear."

Severus blushed and instinctively extended his wings to drape them over the two mares. "I believe this is the start of the perfect evening."

Applejack brought a forehoof to her mouth to cover a blush while Zecora said. "Though my heart floats, flutters and sings. I must inform you of your wings. It is my wish only to snuggle and succumb. The way you hold us promises of things to come."

"Y'all are rhyming yer puns again," Applejack said through her hoof.

"No such thing did I so utter. Get your mind out of the gutter." It was Zecora's turn to blush.

"Whatever y'all say," Applejack said knowingly. "We'd best get a move on; we have reservations."

"You are a good and respectable mare." Zecora complained. "But you've been told time and again, 'that's not fair'."

Applejack chuckled.





It was with trepidation that Hermione had answered her door. The accumulated snow from the storm was more than enough to discourage casual callers. She was pleasantly surprised to find the next-door neighbor waiting, holding a freshly-baked kugelhopf on a dinner plate. The despondent expression upon the elderly woman's face was at odds with such a festive dish.

"Mrs. Holmes," Hermione said, stepping backwards. "Please come in out of the cold."

"Thank you; you are such a little dear." Mrs. Holmes accepted the invitation before declaring, "I need to apologize to your parents."

"Apologize?" Hermione scrunched her nose. "Whatever for?"

"The unicorns," Mrs. Holmes said dejectedly. "It would seem I stuck my nose somewhere it shouldn't be."

"Unicorns?" Hermione said. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Mrs. Holmes gave a patronizing smile. "I know that you ponies are reclusive, dear. Still, would you humor an old busybody and let her apologize?"

Hermione asked, "Would you believe this was all just some giant misunderstanding?"

"Oh, hello there." Hector's voice came from a lot closer to the ground than Hermione had expected, and she suddenly regretted lending him her ring.

"I hope you're standing on two feet," Hermione said without turning around.

"Are you kidding? I'd kill myself going up the stairs on just my hind legs," Hector's voice said as it disappeared upwards, accompanied by the sound of hooves on the wooden staircase.

Mrs. Holmes looked pointedly at Hermione, raised an eyebrow and said. "Those hoofbeats might not have been thundering, but I'm pretty sure they weren't a misunderstanding."

"How about some random swamp gas?" Hermione tried weakly.

"Is that kugelhopf I smell?" came Aunt Grace's voice, much too close to the floor for comfort. Hermione watched in dismay as a teal light surrounded the cake and lifted it a millimeter before winking out.

"Hello there; I'm Miriam Holmes," Mrs. Holmes said. "I don't think we've met."

"Hello, my name is Grace. I'm Dan's sister."

"You have a lovely coat." Mrs. Holmes said with honest admiration.

"Thank you," Grace's voice said. "Emma brushed me not too long ago, that's why it's so shiny right now. She'd be the one here now if she weren't asleep in Dan's lap. Getting one's coat brushed is very therapeutic."

"I can only imagine." Mrs. Holmes smiled





The twinkling streetlamps that lined the toney Canterlot boulevard illuminated the clusters of mares in evening dress. What stallions could be found were dressed in white tie attire and jealously guarded by their mares. For the most part, they walked snootily with muzzles raised, gossiping about their social rivals.

One group, however, seemed to be wearing their clothing as a poor disguise. They might have been dressed like the others, but their postures were those of ponies who were no strangers to hard work. Their conversation criticized the bastions of the aristocracy.

"That grub jus' ain't gonna cut it," Applejack complained as she walked down the street with Severus sandwiched between Zecora and herself. "That's the last time Ah let Rarity handle the reservations."

Zecora agreed. "The meal was quite small and bland. I've had better-tasting sand."

"I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear you two say that," Severus said. "I was beginning to worry that I wasn't adapting to this body properly."

"Well, we're supposed to be showing y'all a good time." Applejack said. "Having a near empty stomach don't help that none. Ah think it's time to introduce you to Donut Joe's and his mighty fine wares."

An ear-piercing shriek from above caught everypony's attention. Looking up, the trio saw a massive bat silhouetted against the full moon. Aggressively, Snape mantled his wings while Applejack and Zecora shifted to defensive stances.

The shadow resolved itself into a mass of purple fur with leather wings. When it landed in front of the trio, it was clear they had been stopped by a thestral mare. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. Glaring at Snape, she snarled, "You race traitor! What are you doing with them?"

Zecora blinked before answering. "Nothing we've done should make ponies irate. We are merely on an evening date."

"With one of our stallions?" the mare asked frostily. "Our gene pool is so shallow it wouldn't get your hooves wet, and you have the gall to make moves on one of our stallions!"

The trio blinked at the mare, absorbing her words. "Hey now, don't get yer tail in a twist," Applejack finally answered. "Professor Snape here ain't no thestral; he's a human."

"I don't know what a hooman is." The mare seethed. "But I know a virile thestral stallion when I smell one." The ponies sharing the street, crowded around, enthralled by the unfolding drama.

"We are sorry for the confusion, but it is only an illusion," Zecora said.

"Indeed, this is what I really look like." Severus took Zecora's hint and returned to his human form. Several in the crowd shrieked in fear as ponies backed away from the mythological being.

The thestral mare narrowed her eyes skeptically. "That wasn't an illusion; you changed forms. I still smell you there. Are you a changeling or did you turn into a viable stallion?"

Applejack snorted. "Shows how much you know. When changelings transform, they are surrounded by a circle of flames; the color tells you which hive they're from."

"How could any pony know that?" an onlooker snapped. When the crowd all turned to look at her, she continued sheepishly. "I mean everypony knows that changelings are just legends. Not real or anything. Where do you get off making up stuff?"

"So, you become a real stallion?" The thestral mare pressed on, ignoring the interruption.

"I do not know. You'd have to ask Mr. Discord on just how real," Severus answered. "It is his magic that allows for the change."

"Discord?" The thestral's ears perked forward. "Then you're not related to any coven?"

"Not even remotely," Severus assured her.

The mare narrowed her eyes again. With a wingtip, she pointed at her eyes and then at Snape. With a powerful flap of her wings, she took to the air, rocketing toward the moon.

Tracking the retreating silhouette, Zecora said. "While she wasn't much of a skilled debater. I fear this will haunt us sooner than later."





The spot booth in the back of the massive West End theatre was abuzz with excitement. In addition to the operator, the small room was crammed with a television news crew. Ordinarily, video recording was strictly prohibited, but the reporters had managed to persuade the owners that history was in the making, and that having irrefutable proof would give the establishment a distinction that no amount of money could buy. No one could have predicted how right they were.

The musical had already received both critical and popular acclaim. Throughout the city, people could be heard humming or whistling bits of the score. There had even been a rumor that a soundtrack album would be released in the coming days. What had happened was unexpected, unforeseeable, unprecedented. The smiles on the owners' faces were a poor representation of the magnitude of what had occurred.

In the news van parked in the alley, the editor replayed the scene for the tenth time. She still could not believe what she had seen. She still could not believe what had happened. The pink-haired woman, no doubt a pony in human form, had been sitting in a loge, dressed in evening wear. Like the rest of the audience, she had clearly been enraptured by the performance. Somehow, at a slower part in a scene, she had vanished from her seat, instantaneously appearing on stage in full costume. She had then launched into an upbeat ballad. The entire cast had joined in, performing an extemporaneous dance that was as polished as if they had been rehearsing for months. The stage hands had appeared from the wings, adding background vocals, and the entire orchestra section had joined in the chorus. Shaking her head in disbelief, the editor had no doubt that this routine would be the standard against which all musicals would now be measured.

Inside the theatre, the news crew had witnessed the aftermath. As the magic of the moment had wound down, the woman had somehow reappeared in her seat as though nothing had happened. Their directional microphone had let them listen in on the ensuring conversation.

"That does it, Pinkie," Twilight Sparkle had said as her friend sat down. "I'm cutting you off at three heartsongs for the night."

"You're one to talk," the girl identified as Rainbow Dash had commented.

"Which is exactly why I know it's time to cut her off."





The best thing about the holidays was family. This was no less true for the Thomas clan. Their house was a little fuller with the arrival of Mr. Thomas's parents. The grandparents had been determined to put on a brave face. They knew the hardship that their son endured. While they could not offer financial support, they could share their love.

As they sat down to the evening meal, Grandma Thomas said. "Roast goose? Mince pie? I hope you didn't break your budget just to impress us, dear. I know that times have been rough."

"We've had an unsuspected windfall when it comes to groceries," Mrs. Thomas said. "I think we will be back to our normal standards sooner rather than later."

"That is good to hear." Grandpa Thomas smiled.

"The pies were my idea." Rosie beamed brightly.

"They look delicious." Grandma Thomas beamed back. "So, dear, when were you planning on telling us that Dean is attending that school for magic?"

Mr. Thomas blinked in surprise. "How'd you figure that out, Mum?"

"Come now, you don't think I wouldn't recognize my own grandson's voice? Your father and I were in the crowd trying to see the magic pub." 

"Whatever do you mean?" Mrs. Thomas asked, cutting into the bird.

Grandma Thomas smirked and directed her attention at the lone male child at the table. "Dean, dear?"

"Yes Grandma?"

"Pink."

"Fuchsia!" 

Grandma Thomas turned a knowing gaze back on her daughter-in-law. "Some families were talking about him as they exited the pub."

"Besides." Grandpa Thomas said pointedly. "The hoofprints on the ceiling are a dead giveaway once you realize what they are."

Mrs. Thomas looked up before growling, "Rosie."

"Sorry Mum."





Lounging on the floor of the quaint cottage, Barnaby had long ago lost count of how many muscles there were in his new body. All he knew for sure was that they were all sore. Although he realized that it was just hair, he could swear that even his mane hurt. He could barely muster enough energy to move, and without access to a pepper-up potion, he would have to recover his strength the old-fashioned way. Still, the smile fixed on his face showed that he had no complaints as to how he had come to be in such a state; as far as he was concerned, it had been energy well-spent.

The newly-minted stallion was thankful that his current task did not require much in the way of movement, and it was a cornerstone of his new goals. Since things had not turned out the way he had anticipated, he had to do his best to keep from being swept away by the winds of change.

"Can you feel it?" Barnaby asked.

"Yes," said the foal curled up in front of him

"Okay, then, go ahead," Barnaby coaxed.

"Lumos." A glow came from the tip of her horn. A proper casting would have yielded a ball of light, but this was progress; this was the first step to prove that she was no muggle.

"Good job." Cheerilee clapped her hands from where she sat on the couch, observing. She had acquired rings for her herd a couple days ago, and Barnaby was appreciative of the results, especially considering that his herdmates preferred pony-style casual wear.

Yes, things were not going according to his original plans, but he could adapt. He could thrive.





Shacklebolt could attest that gracefully exiting a portkey teleport required a lot of practice. The experience was both unpleasant and disorienting, much like being whipped around and dragged through a keyhole by one's navel. To a man, his muggle escort lay in front of him in various states of distress, with two of the three presenting the contents of their stomachs for review. The aurors looked on sympathetically, thankful that their first experience with such transport had been under controlled conditions.

The muggles had been a last-minute addition. The DMLE had informed their muggle counterparts of the operation as a courtesy, and they had insisted on being represented. After all, the threat was not magical, and their officers were trained to handle whatever the muggle world could throw at them.

The aurors scanned their surroundings for threats while their erstwhile escorts took a moment to compose themselves. A dim, naked bulb provided scant illumination to what would have been politely called squalor. A narrow, barred window at ceiling height indicated that they were in a basement room. A pile of used paper plates rustled in the corner as some vermin gleaned scant nourishment from the oil-soaked fibers. A stained, bare, king-sized mattress lay on the floor; springs poked through the threadbare cover at odd angles. In the corner was an open bucket; its stench left no doubt as to its purpose.

"Clear!" barked Shacklebolt. Without a word of complaint, the muggles found their feet. Heavily armed and armored, one took station in front of the door, kneeling, while the others flanked the portal. The scowls on their faces matched that on the aurors' as they took in their surroundings. The heavy, steel-reinforced door was a mere memory the moment the group was ready to proceed. An Alohomora spell would have opened the door, but it was far from sufficient for their sheer outrage.

Raguel would have been proud as the team streamed out of the room like avenging angels. Muggles took the point position, daring all comers to show themselves. Discs of light centered around angry red dots showed where they were focused. The aurors performed their scans behind the screen of armor, ready to send whomever was responsible for this outrage to kingdom come. Room by room, they cleared the basement before ascending the stairs into the house proper. To their disappointment, no one came to accept their challenge.

"No one's here," one of the auror team informed Shacklebolt. "Homenum Revelio comes up negative."

"We need to find the last girl," Shacklebolt snapped. "Take Murry and sweep the grounds."

"Yes sir." The auror and his partner took shrunken brooms out of their robes and rapidly departed.

"What have we found?" one of the muggle officers asked.

"It looks like something large was thrown at the fridge," another answered, coming from the kitchen. "There's a large dent in its door and the contents are spilled everywhere."

"There is a strange green slime in several spots in the family room," said an auror. "It looks fresh. I don't think they have that large of a lead; muggles can't apparate."

"I've called the local dispatch on the house phone. Backup will be here in ten," said another muggle.

"I want them found before . . ." Whatever Shacklebolt was going to say was interrupted as he stumbled. Looking down, he saw several large rocks that were gray with flecks of white and black. Huffily, he conceded that some things needed to be taken for granite.





The walk to Donut Joe's had been interrupted by something that no earth pony would have conceived: a bistro with outdoor seating in the chill of winter. The lamps set at regular intervals served triple duty. They cast a romantic, flickering yellow-orange glow. They kept the seating area at a comfortable temperature. The third function was what had drawn in the trio; the lamps diffused the savory aromas from the kitchen throughout the neighborhood. Once the three had matched the aromas with the sight of their dishes, their decision had been unanimous; this would be where they would sup.

"This is more like it," Applejack said, digging into the house special, ratatouille, sans rat.

"I agree," said Severus. "I'm positive that I'm finding flavors that don't exist for humans."

"The first establishment was a sad fail. With this meal, the evening may yet prevail." Zecora took a dainty bite from her meal.

"Ah think we may want to rethink tha rest of our plans," Applejack said. "Rarity may have been thinking of her own likes when she made her suggestions."

"I have no objections," Severus said. "I admit I would have asked my colleges for ideas if our roles had been reversed. I cannot say that I have much experience with members of the opposite gender."

"We may be trying much too hard to impress, resulting in unnecessary distress," Zecora said.

"Next time, I hope to show the two of you around magical Britain," Severus said.

"Y'all are willing to give us a second chance?" Applejack asked.

"The evening has not been unpleasant. Please remember I'm here for the company, not the entertainment."

"I was hoping with great anticipation and no shame, that company and entertainment are one and the same," Zecora commented.

"That's awful straightforward of you." Applejack blushed. "Yer going ta scare him away."

"Twilight said with humans you need not to wait; just say plainly how you wish to end the date," Zecora rebutted.

"Twilight's views can be rather bookish. She don't always know the best way ta deal with ponies," Applejack said.

"Though unconventional, I think we can all agree that new ground is being broken," Severus said. "I would have feared scaring you two off, had I broached the subject in such a manner. I'm positive this is not how it would have proceeded if I were on an outing with a human woman."

"Yer not offended?" Applejack asked, with more than a little hope in her voice.

"Why should I be offended that you find me attractive enough to consider such an option?"

"Twilight was correct with her decrees. I think I speak for us all. Check Please!" Zecora said the last two words loud enough for the waitress to hear.

"Ah don't think we'll be getting ta the dancing tonight." Applejack pondered. "Nor dancing round certain issues, either."

Suddenly, her vision was cut off, and she was knocked out of her seat by two pairs of hooves. Applejack ignored the muffled exclamation from Zecora and the unmistakable sounds of their table being overturned as her adventure-honed reflexes responded. She twisted her body on the way down, landing on her forehooves. Pushing off the ground, she blindly aimed a buck in the direction from which the attack had come. Hidden gussets and clever slits in her dress let her move as freely as if she were unclothed. Her hind hooves met with empty air while she tore the cloth bag from her head. "What the hay?" she exclaimed. Looking around, she saw Zecora sprawled on the sidewalk with a bag still draped over her head. There was no sign of Severus.

Applejack gaped in rage as she stared toward the sound of retreating wings.
> Interlude 8: Imminent Innovation Incoming
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Minerva had fervently prayed that some semblance of normalcy had returned when she had felt the wards protecting Hogwarts revert to the headmaster's control. The voice that accompanied the gentle rapping on her office door dashed that hope. He should have been summoning her to his office; it was unheard of for him to visit hers for a meeting.

“Come,” Professor McGonagall called out, standing up behind her desk. The door opened, revealing that it was indeed Dumbledore who had come calling. As he entered, she asked, “Albus? To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Ah, Minerva,” Dumbledore said, striding into the room. “It’s good to see you. These last few days at the ICW headquarters have been troublesome to say the least, and I fear it is only the beginning. My return will be short-lived, as there is much to be done.”

“I had anticipated such a scenario,” Professor McGonagall acknowledged. “Though I am surprised that you came to see me, rather than issuing a summons.”

“About that,” Dumbledore said, settling into the visitor chair. “It would seem that in my absence, a unicorn has decided to take up residence in my office.”

“A unicorn?” Minerva’s face showed not a hint of the surprise she felt. “Any pony that I know?”

Dumbledore shook his head with a smile. “He was of the forest variety, not one of our Equestrian friends. I fear I am going to need assistance in removing him; otherwise I’d risk causing undue harm. They are known to be territorial and not very appreciative of old wizards.”

“Garrick hasn’t had a problem as far as I know,” Minerva noted.

“He only approaches the mares,” Dumbledore replied. “The stallions are much more temperamental, especially when cornered.”

“How did a unicorn manage to lay claim to your office?” Minerva asked.

“The elves claim that Fawkes acquired him.” Dumbledore sighed. “I can only assume that he has observed Miss Belle and is jealous that she maintains the company of both a phoenix and a unicorn. I never would have guessed that he might react badly to being shown up, so to speak. He may have found the endeavor more difficult than he anticipated, though. The glimpse of him that I managed showed that he is in an immature state, well outside his normal Burning Day cycle.” 

“This is a complication we can ill afford at this time.” Minerva allowed the hint of a scowl to cross her lips. “A unicorn stallion is potentially dangerous to the students; you are going to have to keep him well under control. Being cooped up in your office can’t be good for him, either.”

“You can’t possibly think I intend to keep him,” Dumbledore said.

“It’s either that or you need to convince Fawkes that he can’t keep a pet unicorn,” Minerva said. “It’s not like he will have difficulty sneaking it back inside whenever he takes a fancy to it.”

“I cannot deny that,” Dumbledore admitted.

“Still, that is not the most volatile thing we must discuss.” Minerva sighed. “As you are well aware, the board of governors has been restructured, bringing about a corresponding restructuring of attitudes. There was an emergency meeting yesterday evening in response to the muggles learning about magic. Several important issues were raised.”

Dumbledore sighed in disappointment. “It would seem that our way of life will soon be unrecognizable on every level.”

“That should come as no surprise,” Minerva said. “We simply do not have the option of leaving things as they were. For better or worse, we're in a whirlpool of change."

“It will be hard to hold onto the old traditions,” Dumbledore lamented.

“We have every right to hold our traditions dear,” Minerva countered. “We might pass them on, but we have no right to force them onto the next generation.”

Dumbledore grimaced before saying, “And what wisdom has our new board of governors imparted?”

“The subject of the off-limits corridor came up. They were infuriated over the idea of a school serving as a repository for anything that had to be guarded in such a manner. There were several disparaging accusations made about the intelligence of the staff who allowed such a thing. They felt it was far better for us to have used a Fidelius Charm to have hidden it, rather than potentially exposing a school full of children to those who would want to seize it. Given our new alternatives, I concur."

“They have no idea of the ramifications we all would face if the stone fell into the wrong hands,” Dumbledore said dismissively. “We do what must be done. Nothing else needs to be said on the matter.” 

“They agreed unanimously that the school is not to be used for such things,” Minerva stated. “If not for a full docket of business to cover, I have no doubt that your tenure as headmaster would have ended with that exchange.”

“They are demanding that the stone be removed?” Dumbledore asked. “The fools! I haven’t the time to see to its protection with all of the work piling up. Do they wish to see our world go up in flames?”

“The world is a far different place now; with the resources we can now bring to bear, there is no need to risk our children any longer,” Minerva said sternly. “The stone has been removed, Albus. Filius and Pomona are dismantling the traps even as we speak. Which reminds me, Hagrid wants to know what you wish done with the troll.”

Dumbledore paused, aghast at the initiative the deputy headmistress had displayed. “What has become of the stone?”

“It has been given to an acquaintance to safeguard, until such time as Mr. Flamel wishes to lay claim to it,” Minerva said. “It is no longer the concern of this school.”

“How could you do that without consulting me?” Dumbledore demanded. “How can you be sure this acquaintance will not misuse such a powerful artifact?”

“She literally has nothing to gain from its power; she has no need for gold, and she is already immortal. I cannot think of a more appropriate steward,” Minerva said. “I am sorry, Albus; the board was unwilling to budge on the subject and I must admit, the resolution is more than satisfactory. The safety of the children should be our highest priority.”

“We must also safeguard their future,” Dumbledore countered. “We cannot do that if certain things come to pass.”

“Be that as it may, it is not I whom you would need to convince. However, with the disruptions that other imminent changes are sure to bring, there is no telling when you might have an opportunity to plead your case.” 

“I think it would have been prudent for me to have attended the board meeting.” Dumbledore sighed. “I would have been able to rein in anything overly ambitious.”

“Doubtful. The new board has no desire to uphold tradition for tradition’s sake.” Minerva pursed her lips. “You are aware that muggle studies was sorely inadequate. They have decided that history of magic is likewise deficient and have the test scores to back that opinion. Professor Weiss has been promoted to remedy the latter situation. The former shall be rectified with the loan of a social studies professor provided by the muggles.”

“Surely they do not intend to let a muggle loose on the students.” Dumbledore frowned. “The old families will not stand for it.”

“We can no longer hide,” Minerva said. “Without an accurate understanding of the workings of the muggle world, our children will be unnecessarily handicapped in the years to come. The shield of ignorance had already been irreparably shattered by the introduction of a telly into the Gryffindor common room. As for the old families, they, of course, have the option to homeschool their children, but the board refuses to let such bigoted views interfere with the education of those not so biased.”

“The purebloods can easily pressure us into submission over that issue,” Dumbledore argued. “Our current class sizes are barely providing enough funding to keep the school solvent. If the purebloods pull their children, the school will go bankrupt."

“That is the perfect segue into our next order of business,” Minerva said, “as well as a continuation of the last. The muggle government was less than appreciative of our policy of binding the magic of children unwilling or fiscally unable to attend Hogwarts. They asserted that we do not have sovereignty over their people just because they have access to magic. Compromises were made, and all such binding shall be expunged, and the muggle government shall be providing funds for those previously unable to pay the tuition. We shall be seeing the infusion of muggleborns as soon as the new term begins. The muggles see magic as a resource, and they are most eager to cultivate the potential.”

“The board approved this?” Dumbledore shut his eyes as he visualized his control of the school slipping from his grasp.

“Enthusiastically,” Minerva confirmed. “Remember, most of the new board members are muggleborn themselves. They are greeting the muggle government's demands with open arms. Next year, we shall be having more muggle teachers introduced to fill the holes they see in our education system. Hogwarts is to meet both the muggle and the wizarding education standards.”

“And what of the proposed new students? They cannot just be inserted into the classes already in session,” Dumbledore argued. “It will be an undue burden for the staff on top of their normal duties.”

“With the fall of the statute, many jobs at the Ministry have become defunct,” Minerva asserted. “We do not lack in applicants for the additional aid that shall be required, and Merlin knows we have more than enough empty classrooms. It will be a significant deviation from the norm, but we shall manage.”

“I cannot see the students starting halfway through being able to catch up with their peers,” Dumbledore insisted.

“The muggles have introduced us to the concept of summer school,” Minerva said.

“How devious,” Dumbledore replied.

"Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis," Minerva said. "We have no choice but to adapt or perish. The purebloods will not like what is to come, but there is nothing they can do to stop it. Pureblood superiority has no place in this world. Instead of being able to force the muggleborn to conform to our world, we are now faced with having to conform to theirs.

“It is a sad day.” Dumbledore said.

"It is a new day," replied Minerva. "Those who had subjugated based on birthright now find themselves on equal footing with everyone else. There is much I do not like in the changes, but I recognize what must be done in the name of fairness."

“I cannot deny the inequities in our traditions, but so sudden a change is sure to lead to anarchy. There are many who will refuse to change.”

“There will always be those whose minds cannot be changed,” Minerva said, pulling a sealed letter out of her desk. “The board wanted you to have this and await a reply.”

Dumbledore took the missive and broke the seal. His frown grew as he read the contents.

“What is it Albus?” Minerva asked when the old wizard refolded the parchment and placed it in his lap.

Dumbledore gaped like a stunned mullet for a moment before he said, “The board is of the opinion that I cannot properly fulfill my duties as headmaster while being distracted by my duties as Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump. They are dismayed that I seem to conflate my politics with the running of this school. The demand is that I either resign from those offices or tender my resignation as headmaster. I have a week to decide.”





In a school very different yet very much the same, the headmaster stood alone in his office. The stress of the last few days had been almost unbearable. There had been many orders from his government to exorcise the very soul of his school, something he would never suffer. There would be no muggleborns walking the hallowed halls. His students would not be taught to subjugate themselves to the wills of mere muggles. He would not capitulate.

A war was coming, and his soldiers would be ready. It would be absurd to lower his guard. It would be inconceivable to bow to the whims of lesser beings.

Wizards were superior, after all.

The time was coming when that would be proven.

Until then, they would play the fool. They would pretend to cooperate. They would become stronger. After all, his master had been correct on many fronts.

The wards of his school were far better than anything that Hogwarts, Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny incorporated. The exact location was known to only a few outside the alumni. Wizards may have been exposed, but the school was not. It would be a bastion, a stronghold.

Yet, the stress was immense. He was boxed in from all sides. He had nowhere else to run.

He looked down at his bared arm, fearing what he knew he would see.

The mark was darker.

Much darker.

His master had returned.





In the plush smoking room of the Minister's mansion, Xenophilius looked at his forlorn guest and said. “Come now, you can’t still be upset over not getting a date. That was days ago.”

“Twilight made it look so easy,” Lyra grumbled. “I’ll bet if I had more time, I could have made it work.”

“So, you’ve said,” Xenophilius noted. “Repeatedly.”

“Rejection hurts.”

“I’m surprised that you’ve had time to feel rejected,” Xenophilius said. “We’ve been busy.”

“You more than I,” Lyra replied. “So far, I’ve just been making speeches about looking forward to good relations and shaking hooves. Dan Granger was right, you humans do like ponies too much.”

“I’m sure you're suffering from all the attention. Some people have no concept of personal space.”

“Nah, it’s been great,” Lyra admitted.

“Anyway, you had something you wanted to talk to me privately about before you head home for the night?” Xenophilius asked.

“Yes,” Lyra sighed. “Princess Celestia has heard about your prison and isn’t happy with what she’s learned. She’s thinking of breaking off official relations unless it’s closed down.”

“Mmm,” Xenophilius rubbed his chin. “I can see why she would be concerned after hearing about Azkaban. It is not a pleasant place, but it is a necessity.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes. “It is a necessity that you treat your prisoners so cruelly?”

“You’re looking at it from the wrong angle.” Xenophilius patted Lyra’s head reassuringly. “Azkaban does not exist to punish its prisoners; it exists to contain their gaolers. The dementors used to roam the countryside making victims of unwary wizards and muggles alike. They could be chased away by a powerful enough witch, but they were always a danger. They kissed many unfortunate innocents before Azkaban was built.”

“That’s horrible,” Lyra said.

“It was,” Xenophilius agreed. “We have yet to find a way to destroy them. However, they are amendable to stay in one spot if a steady food supply is made available. It is a tenuous situation, but we keep the masses safe by sacrificing the worst of us to their mercies. It is not a perfect solution but it is better than the alternative.”

“That’s horrible,” Lyra repeated.

“I agree,” Xenophilius said. “Perhaps, with the new knowledge shared by your government, we can end the need. Until then, the choice is between letting them have magicals who have proven themselves to be a danger to the common good and letting them prey upon anyone they like, anywhere they like. We are literally choosing the lesser of two evils, granting ourselves some measure of control.”

“That is so horrible.”





There were no wardens. There were no guards. Still, it was where they were forced to stay. Still, it was a prison. Still, the months had been fabulous. The dementors were but an awful memory.

Still, the months had been cruel. Hardly a moment had gone by when she wasn’t certain that there were aurors just outside, preparing to bring down the wards of her impromptu home, ready to take her back to the suffering.

Intellectually, she knew it was a baseless fear.

The price of being caught after escaping was to be kissed, left soulless by the very beings she so feared.

It was enough to drown the euphoria of no longer being in their presence.

Every day, she suffered. Paranoia ate at her very core.

It was so much better than the life she had been living.

Yippy held her as she wept.

They were both fugitives.

They were both without hope.

Thus, the days passed.

Then the mark . . . the mark darkened.

Hope came tempered by a new fear.

Her master had returned.

Yet, no call came, no way for her to find him, no way to be by his side.

Hope died anew.

She just wanted out.

The opportunity came when her sister apparated into the safehouse, with an owl of all things.

Greetings were brief, reacquaintance denied.

Her sister had little time, and her brother-in-law had forbidden the granting of aid for fear of punishment from the new Ministry.

She learned that her son was in a different dimension and the owl could take her to him.

Without looking back, Imogen and Yippy left the world of man.
> Chapter 83: Wet Whistles and What
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the nights since Harmony had been restored, the throne room no longer slept. Its full majesty and grandeur could be felt regardless of the hour. In the not so distant past, there had been a distinct ebb and flow to the activity. The stillness of the night had offered a precious respite to the princess.

In the days of loneliness, ponies had come from far and near to petition the princess for matters great and small. After all, the princess had been renowned for her patience, and she would be unlikely to react poorly so long as the requests were not too outrageous. Nobles had preened and postured as they had attempted to validate their titles, attempting to prove to all that they had projects worthy of their stations. More often than not, these had been public works proposals, with the petitioners as the deserving public. While they had realized that the princess could easily perceive the true intent behind their efforts, they had felt it was still worth their time in the unlikely event that she would be uncharacteristically unobservant. Besides, at the very least, they could honestly say they had personally spoken with the princess.

The reconvening of Night Court had initially been met with unbridled enthusiasm. The nobles had been confident that the die had been cast by the centuries of precedent established by the Sun Princess. With the Moon Princess being the younger of the two, the nobles had champed at the bit at the prospect of petitioning a ruler who would no doubt be more gullible, more pliable. They had known the elder had centuries of experience with political intrigue while the younger had spent that same time in isolation.

What they had discovered was the difference between day and night. The sun had been warm and patient. The moon, however, had proven to be a harsh mistress. What had been a matter of scholarly debate for centuries was now patently obvious. There could be no doubt which sister had wielded the Element of Kindness and which had wielded the Element of Honesty.

It had been a night of infamy. Fortunes and freedoms had been lost without regard for station or standing as the Princess of the Night had proven time and time again that she did not suffer fools. What had been most galling had been the cheers of the rabble as they had come to dub the upstart "The Ponies' Princess".

After the third night, it had become apparent to all that there was a distinct dichotomy between the two courts. Day Court continued as it had for centuries, a soapbox for the nobles and the self-important, full of pomp and ceremony. Night Court was the venue for action, for swift, blind justice. It processed four times the petitions in half the time, allowing Luna to fulfill her duties as Protector of Dreams.

This session of Night Court had proceeded at its normal brisk pace. Luna took a quick break to down a mug of espresso. With no less dignity than her sister, she addressed the pony at the head of the petitioners' queue. "Step forward, our subject; we would hear the words thou hast waited in line to share with us."

"Your Highness," the young pegasus stallion said as he stepped forward and made an acutely awkward bow. "I have a story to share with you, which I am forced to admit will sound preposterous. I only ask that you hear me out."

"Speak truth, and we shall judge for ourselves."

The pegasus took a deep breath before continuing. Desperately, he spat out, "Your Highness, I am Inspector Todd Harrison, Scotland Yard. Currently, I am undercover, investigating a string of escapes from our prison system. A successful inquiry has left me cut off from my support and unable to contact my superiors. You see, this is not my birth form; I come from another world."

He fidgeted nervously as silence reigned; he was all too aware of the princess's disdain for dishonesty.

At length, Luna narrowed her eyes at him. "Art thou saying thou art a human?"

Todd blinked and took a half step backwards. "You've heard of my kind?" The surprise was evident in his voice.

"Certes," Luna declared. "Canst thou not take thy original form as proof of claims made?"

"The women who have brought me to your land have informed me that the transformation is permanent. If there is a way for me to change back, I do not know of it."

"Women are responsible for thy presence in Equestria?" Luna asked.

"Yes, it is a network. They are sifting through our prisons, finding willing and reformable candidates to offer them new lives here in exchange for being sold to wealthy women."

Luna frowned. "A fortnight has not passed since relations have been established, yet a crisis has reared its unseemly head. Most perturbing. We assume thou art one of the purchased stallions."

"Yes, your Highness. I slipped away from my wives to alert you of the situation and assess my next course of action."

"The ambassador shall be notified. Thou shalt be provided means to return to thy birth form and transportation arranged," Luna stated. "Let us hope that this does not strain . . ."

"Princess Luna!" A voice cried out as two finely dressed mares galloped into the chamber. One was a zebra, and the other easily recognized as the bearer of Honesty.

Luna shifted her attention away from the pegasus. "Lady Applejack, what emergency hast thou so distressed?"

"Our stallion was just foalnapped right from under our noses!" Applejack skidded to a halt in front of the thrones. "Right in the middle of our date!"

"SUMMON THE FULL NIGHT GUARD," Luna commanded, abandoning her throne to stand on her hooves and spread her wings dramatically.

"They weren't even being discreet." The Zebra broke in. "It was they who did the feat."

Luna blinked in surprise before doing her best impression of modern dialect. "Say what, now?"

"They weren't wearing uniforms or anythang," Applejack said. "But Professor Snape was snatched up by a flankload of batponies. It stands to reason some of them are in the guard."

"Why would they do such a deed?" Luna demanded.

"Their method was both crass and cruel. They seek to expand their gene pool," Zecora explained.

Luna turned to the zebra. "The pony form of thy stallion is that of a thestral," she stated. Luna's hoof found her face and she inhaled deeply. "The matter becomes complex. Worry not; We shall retrieve thy stallion, though fear for his virtue would be well warranted." She sighed and turned her attention to the public entrance of the chamber and looked expectantly.

"Um, what are you waiting for?" Applejack asked.

"It is our experience that crises such as these always occur in threes. We are simply biding our time for the third."

"Surely y'all don't think . . ." Applejack started.

Suddenly, a yellow unicorn rushed through the entrance screaming, "Chrysalis, don't think for a second that I don't know it's you masquerading as the Night Princess. I should have guessed sooner. What better way to entrench yourself than take the form of a long-lost pony!"

"Objection withdrawn," Applejack said.





Apollo and Artemis was the premiere lounge among the nouveau riche. The stuffiness of old money wouldn't be caught dead there, and that was just what the clientele wanted. The atmosphere was refined, and the furniture was beyond comfortable. The service was the best that could be found in a public establishment. Despite eschewing the requirements for ancestral connections, the lounge was among the most exclusive; the price of a single drink would give pause to all but the wealthiest.

Despite the preponderance of presumptuous potables, the lounge was, at its heart, still a pub. As with any establishment of that nature, regardless of the closeness of the couples, an inevitable segregation would occur when the members of the fairer sex decided to powder their noses en masse, leaving the men the opportunity for candid discussion.

As soon as the women were out of earshot, Remus turned to his friend and said, "Sirius, I'm surprised how well you are handling this."

"Handling what?" Sirius asked, looking around the lounge. "My first night out as a married man? It isn't that difficult. In fact, it's easier than dating."

"I mean Twilight's friends and how you are interacting with them," Remus said.

"So, they're a couple. I have no problem with that," Sirius said with a shrug. "Why would you think that bothered me?"

Remus and Ted shared a look. "You don't know?" Ted asked suspiciously.

"Know what?" Sirius asked as the prickles of unnamed dread tickled his spine.

"Twilight brought them to see how well you like them," Ted said.

"What's not to like?" Sirius took a sip from his sunset magic margarita. "Rainbow is one of the blokes, and Pinkie is in a class all her own."

"He means, Twilight wants to see if you're willing to advance an intimate relationship with them," Remus said diplomatically.

"Rubbish," Sirius said. "I've learned the hard way, back in Hogwarts, that women don't think like that."

"Sirius," Ted said. "Twilight is not a school girl; she is a pony. She told Andi that she feels overwhelmingly guilty not sharing. She's looking to add a couple more names to the Black family tapestry, and I don't mean descendants."

"Bollocks," Sirius said. "You two are trying to take the piss, but I'm not falling for it."

"You'll be singing a different tune when they end up in your bed tonight," Ted said.

"There's no way I could get that lucky," Sirius replied.

"Just don't forget the major drawback of having three wives," Remus cautioned, taking a sip from his blue blazer.

"What's that?" Sirius asked.

"Three sets of in-laws," Ted deadpanned.





The warm and cheery drawing room welcomed guests and hosts alike. The master of the house could not help but beam at the progress of the small soiree; he could already savor the benefits of what was sure to be a successful alliance with a member of the Wizengamot from an unabashedly wealthy family. The mistress was likewise elated; her guest cared little for the chains and hobbles of wizarding convention and had treated her as a peer, equal in standing to her husband. Their guest could not be more pleased; every carefully-worded inquiry had shown that the couple was on the cusp of accepting her into their herd.

"I so look forward to having some time alone to get to know you much better," Lady Greengrass said earnestly. "I can already tell we are going to be the best of friends."

"Darling, I plan on showing you a time you shall never forget," Rarity returned.

Lord Greengrass chuckled. "I almost feel jealous."

Rarity blushed. "You simply must wait your turn."

The children on the loveseat were, by contrast, more circumspect. Two looked decidedly uncomfortable in their evening finery, while the third was a little horse. Daphne nudged Sweetie and whispered, "This is getting ridiculous. You need to tell them."

Sweetie shook her head as she watched the adults with wide eyes. "They're your parents," she whispered back. "You tell them."

"I'm not telling them. I can't believe they haven't caught on yet," Daphne countered as she watched with morbid fascination.

"I know; at this rate, you'll be calling me 'Auntie Sweetie' before morning comes."

"At this point, I'm not sure if that's what my parents want or if they are just trying to build a business relationship."

"Mmmmm," Astoria purred from where she lay in her unicorn form in her sister's lap, being petted.

"You really should tell them," Daphne repeated. "She's your sister."

"With your dad's reputation, I'd be lucky if he doesn't bite my head off. Besides, I'm sure they'll figure everything out before too long."

"If you say so, Aunt Sweetie."





Long after Luna's moon had taken command of the sky, away from the demands of court, the pink princess lounged on her bed. This was the time that she did her real work. Unless Shiny were with her, she could count on being able to work on her charts and diagrams uninterrupted until Celestia's sun chased away the darkness. While love might be blind, romance often needed her guiding hoof.

She started at the sound of firm knocks on her chamber door. The guards knew that she was not to be disturbed at this hour unless the matter were urgent. Cadance lit her horn, opening the door to admit her caller. "Come," she said. "What is the nature of your emergency?"

A nondescript beige earth pony with a grey rock cutie mark stepped through and gave a respectful bow. Rising, she said, "My queen, we have experienced a minor setback during one of our standard operations. The situation is well in hoof, but protocol dictates that you be notified. Since you are not on our link, I am here to ensure that you are informed."

Cadance stared at the mare and brightly said, "Huh?"

The mare shook her head slightly before saying. "A thousand pardons, my queen. My name is Multi Facet. Since you are now responsible for our hive, my duty is to ensure that you receive all command-level communications until Queen Chrysalis resumes her duties."

"You're a changeling," Cadance stated.

"Yes, my queen." Multi bowed again. "Routine hive business does not warrant your time. We, however, have a situation that needs to be brought to your attention. The actions of the culling team have garnered the attention of the local authorities. We cannot insert substitutes for the subjects of their most recent operation."

"Ooookay," Cadance said slowly. "What's the culling team?"

"It's the group charged with removing disruptive individuals, those who threaten the well-being of the masses and jeopardize the production of love.

"Disruptive individuals?"

"Those that prey on innocents," Multi replied. "The worst of the worst."

Cadance opened her mouth to say something, but she discovered she had nothing to convey. She closed her mouth as the implications assaulted her sensibilities.

"My queen?" Multi inquired.

"You have just shattered my perception of pony civilization," Cadance admitted.

"I am sorry, my queen."

"This is standard procedure?" Cadance asked.

"It is the reason that mass murderers remain solely in the domain of fiction," Multi said.

"I suppose I should be upset that changelings seem to be taking justice into their own hooves," Cadance opined.

"Or you could take the view of 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'," Multi countered.

"I see," Cadance said. "So, the culling team was caught?"

"No, they were interrupted mid-task. Currently, they have gone to ground, waiting for the humans to leave so they can make a tactical withdrawal."

“Gone to ground?” Cadance asked.

“Yes. Like ponies, humans take random rocks on the ground for granite. Splinter Claw, however, is regretting his decision to mimic a welcome mat.”

“You know,” Cadance said, her eyes suddenly twinkling, “I just realized it’s my turn.”





As the evening progressed in Apollo and Artemis, the differences between Twilight's prospective herdmates became apparent. Pinkie Pie was not a drinker. She favored drinks that pleased both the eye and the palate. No one dared try to discern how she could burn off the alcohol with no apparent ignition source. Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, had insisted on matching the men drink for drink. Two things had become painfully apparent. The first was that froufrou drinks offended her sensibilities. The second was that she had no idea how little alcohol her petite form could manage.

With an unceremonious thump, her rainbow-hued head slumped to the table as she daintily gave her rendition of an asthmatic two-stroke engine.

Nissy looked at the half-filled highball glass that the fallen woman weakly clutched. "That was what? Two and a half drinks? She needs to learn to pace herself."

“Pfft,” Pinkie said. “Rainbow would never let herself be out-drunk by a stallion.”

“News flash,” Ted said, lifting his own Long Island iced tea. “She just has.”

“She does realize we each weigh nearly twice what she does, doesn’t she?” Sirius asked. "We're all still working on our first drinks."

“I’m sure she sees it as a challenge,” Twilight said with a frown. “This is not the impression I was hoping she would make.”

“Merlin, she is so unbearably cute,” Andi said. “How many cases of diabetic shock has she been responsible for?”

“I’ll bet the reporters would give their first-born for a picture of this,” Remus stated with a hint of amusement. “They’d be printing posters before the night was over.”

Twilight summoned a scroll, apparently from thin air. She scowled as she unrolled it. Highlighting several items, she grumbled, "This is going to ruin the best parts of my plans for tonight."

“Don’t worry,” Andi said. “I can cast a sobering charm, if worst comes to worst. It only takes a minute.”

Ted snorted, "And it feels like your brain's trying to force its way out of your skull for that minute."

“Thanks Andi,” Twilight said, still perusing her list. A gasp escaped her lips when she glanced towards the top of it, “Oh no, I’ve completely neglected two important action items that should have been completed right out of the gate. I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m positive that definition of idiot cannot be found in the dictionary,” Nissy scoffed. “Distracted would be a better description.”

“What did you forget?” Sirius asked.

“Candid discussion of herding with Sirius,” Twilight said, referencing her list. “Though, admittedly, the restaurant and the theater were unsuitable venues for that discussion.”

“We covered it while you were in the restroom,” Ted said. “He’s still in denial, so I’ll leave that part up to you.”

“Denial?” Twilight asked worriedly.

“Thinks it’s too good to be true,” Remus said reassuringly. “What’s the second item?”

“Wait, you don’t mean?” Sirius said with a prolonged side glance at Pinkie. “Sweet Merlin.”

“Yuppers.” Pinkie bounced, and she also bobbed in her seat excitedly.

Tearing his eyes from the enthusiastic woman's undulations, Sirius asked his wife. “And the other thing you forgot, besides warning me to invest in pepper-up potions?”

Twilight wilted. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a couple days now. I really should have gotten to it sooner, but I got sidetracked completing the anti-Voldemort network my brother has been assisting me with.”

Nissy put down her drink. “Okay, an anti-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named network is something you should have brought up earlier. By the way, he’s dead, you know.”

“Oooooh. Twilight has forgotten to tell everypony important information again,” Pinkie said. “Don’t get too mad at her; that’s just Twilight being Twilight.”

Twilight looked at Pinkie and said. “Really? That’s a thing now?”

“Definitamondo.” Pinkie asserted.

“This conversation just took a disturbing turn for the serious,” Ted stated.

A certain individual opened his mouth to comment but was cut off when Nissy said. “Don’t even think of it. Please continue, Twilight; we will discuss your punishment at a later time.”

Twilight winced visibly. “I’m sleeping on the couch tonight, aren’t I?”

Nissy blinked, momentarily off balance. “That remains to be seen. Please continue.”

“Well, it all started when Voldemort attacked Harry Potter the other day,” Twilight said.

“WHAT!” exclaimed the native humans at the table.

“You probably could have most likely, should of, indubitably would have thought to phrase that a different way,” Pinkie noted.

“Calm down. Calm down,” Twilight said, waving her hands frantically. “It’s nothing to worry about. Lily Potter protected him and we all got rid of the piece of Voldemort in his scar.”

The witches and wizards at the table stared at Twilight, dumbfounded. After a second, Remus drained his glass and raised his voice. “Waiter! Another round!”

“You were right,” Nissy added. “You are sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Isn’t that my call?” Sirius asked, some anger evident in his voice.

“No!” Nissy and Andi said in one voice.

Rainbow continued to snore, blissfully unaware.





In the now-quiet drawing room, the warmth of the flames crackling in the fireplace was nothing compared to that of the burning cheeks of the lord and lady of the manor, as well as those on their guest. The three stared at each other in mortification as uneasy tension filled the air.

Sweetie nudged Daphne and whispered, “See, I told you they’d catch on sooner or later.”

Daphne did not reply.

“Well.” Rarity broke the silence after a few more seconds. “This is appallingly awkward. I assume you would prefer Sweetie and myself to take our leave?”

“No, no.” Lord Greengrass had lost his normally controlled demeanor. “I do not hold you accountable for the differences between our two cultures. Your company is agreeable, regardless of the misunderstandings.”

“And your interest is not unwelcome,” Lady Greengrass added.

With uncharacteristic astonishment, Lord Greengrass said, “It’s not?”

“This conversation has exceeded what is proper for children to witness,” Lady Greengrass said. “Daphne, see that your sister makes it to her room.” She paused as she considered the last girl on the couch. “Sweetie can share your bed. There is no reason to make her brave a guest room by herself since you shared her room when you stayed with her.”

Daphne blinked, her mouth agape. “Yes, mother.”

“Dear?” Lord Greengrass asked.

“We need to start this conversation over from the beginning.” Lady Greengrass said. “It would be cruel to leave it unresolved. Now, off with you children.”

Daphne led the way to Astoria's room as she cradled the sleeping foal in her arms. As she followed, Sweetie said, “I did not see that coming.”

“Shut up, Aunt Sweetie,” Daphne growled.





The stars and the planets had given the equivalent of a primal shrug. The elders did their best to hide their panic. This was completely unprecedented. They had prided themselves on being able to see the future, and now they had been struck blind. The only consolation was that this affected only a nonessential member of their community. That could be easily handled; after all, what was one life compared to the greater good?

She had been fated to meet her end before reaching adulthood, anyway. An unfortunate encounter with acromantulas had long ago been foretold. That, however, was no longer the case.

What was certain, no longer was.

She was becoming hard to see.

Only an unexplained awareness that they must wait and see remained.

Only that trumped the sense of dread and prevented action.

Only one thing was certain.

Chaos advanced.





In a fallow section of Sweet Apple Acres, glass walls concealed a hubbub of activity. The Crusaders were quickly learning to use their new superpower -- money. While the funds were theirs, they were still under the watchful eyes of others, others who would keep them from doing what they must.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

Promises had been made. Promises would be kept. The easy path was closed to them. Still, they would find a way. They would improvise. They would adapt. They would overcome.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

The human world had much to offer. Cases of butcher's gloves were stacked against the wall. Rolls of aramid fabric was leaned against it. Skeins of paracord lay, waiting to be used. These would form the basis of their defense.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

The pony world offered its own resources. From their mines, the Crusaders collected the ore from which the smelters extracted ingots of silver. From their mines, the Crusaders collected the ore from which the foundries produced sheets of iron and steel. From their business contacts, they procured the finest silver chains. From their business contacts, they procured a Minotaur forge. These would form the basis for their offense.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

It would have been better if the entire herd had managed to sneak away to help with the preparations. Regardless, they would make do with the available members. The hunt could not start this night. The hunt could not start on the next. There was far too much to do. There was far too much danger to venture out unprepared. They would make all necessary preparations. They would act as a team.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

Seamus, Ginny and Hermione were in one corner, using their horns to painstakingly form suits of armor. Seamus would separate the palms from the butcher's gloves. Ginny would hold the edges together and join them with small, interlocking steel rings, link by link. Hermione would spot weld each ring shut. Slowly, the armor took shape on the ponyquin. They already had two suits complete, ready for electroplating with silver.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

*Clang* *Clang* *Clang* Apple Bloom brought her hammer down again and again on a glowing steel and iron sandwich that Ron held steady with a pair of tongs. Both foals wore the appropriate personal protective equipment. Once a piece was thin as cardboard, Apple Bloom folded it back into a bundle and repeated the process. In the end, it would have hundreds of layers, making it strong, flexible and able to hold a wickedly sharp edge, just like the blade of Rockhoof's shovel. It was time for the farmers' daughter to beat the plowshares into swords.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

Luna and Abagail twirled bolas made of salmon weights and braided paracord over their heads before sending them downrange. The stakes driven into the ground displayed their hits and misses. With each successive attempt, their aim improved. Soon, it would be time to start on moving targets.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

Neville and Lavender wrestled atop a mat in another corner. Jiu jitsu, sambo, pankration, and sumo all melded together into moves designed to subdue larger, stronger, and faster opponents. They practiced while wearing modified butcher's gloves with aramid linings; the metal parts would be plated with silver in due time.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

Harry, Scootaloo and Parvati hovered and practiced with devices that resembled crossbows, but fired cannisters loaded with cast nets made of fine silver chain. The spring tension and the cannister size still had to be modified to get the nets to spread properly. but at least they were starting to get the nets to land where they wanted. They, too, would soon be ready to start on moving targets

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

Nopony could expect them to sit idle after the parents of one of their members were savagely attacked.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

Nobody would stand in their way.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

The goblins had failed to retrieve the assigned target; only the general area of his retreat was known.

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

There were things ponies just had to do for themselves

They were a herd. They took care of their own.

Fate shuddered.

Cutie Mark Crusader Werewolf Hunters were a go.
> Mobocracy Phonic Chutzpah
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One of the more famous sites on London's Broadway was a tall, modern office building that seemed out of place compared to its older neighbors. The three words in sans serif in front served to announce a rededication to the modernization of their methods. The words were a name known the world over, synonymous with law enforcement.

The building housed an organization that could claim with little exaggeration that they had collectively witnessed or performed everything the human experience could offer at one time or another. They were so jaded that they had even named their new computer system after one who had routinely proven to be their superior. The wee hours of this morning, however, brought something unprecedented.

A creature of myth and legend walked beside one of their own. As little as a month ago, this would have caused a riot. Now, however, the aqua-haired woman was a well-known diplomat, and the officers on duty rushed to provide accommodations worthy of her station while her escort was taken directly to the office of the Chief Superintendent, bypassing two links in the chain of command.

In his office in New Scotland Yard, Chief Superintendent Mitchell continued sifting through the morning paperwork as his subordinate entered. "Inspector Harrison, I hope, for your sake, that I am not about to start my day with an international incident. Why is the pony ambassador here?"

Inspector Harrison came over to stand in front of the desk and said, "Sir, Miss Heartstrings was kind enough to escort me back from Equestria. I also suspect she bears a formal apology from Princess Luna."

"She's not here because you were being a daft cow?" Chief Superintendent Mitchell let out a relieved sigh. "That's a load off. Well, don't just stand there; what's this all about, then? You were on the pony's home world?"

"Yes, sir," Harrison said. "I was undercover with orders to ferret out how some blokes were skipping out on her majesty's pleasure. Turns out there's a bit of a crime ring offering them passage to Equestria with promises of having a harem once they get there."

"This is going to be a headache." The Chief Superintendent laid down the paper he had been perusing. "Do you have any intel on why these criminal ponies are collecting prisoners and going so far as to give them a harem? They must be planning something big."

"Actually, sir," Harrison responded, "that's their end game. Believe it or not, the harems are willing to spend quite a lot of money to have a human turned stallion as part of their family. Absurdly, it's a win-win for all of the individuals involved."

The Chief Superintendent searched the Inspector's face for any signs of deceit. "Bloody hell."





In a place that was more a state of mind than a physical location, the most powerful of all bonds continued to strengthen. The voyeuristic would say in the eye of the maelstrom was a man sandwiched between two women, all in a mutual embrace worthy of Venus herself. The observant would realize that the trio actually consisted of one woman, one transfigured mare, and one immortal draconequus. The cynical would claim that the Lord of Chaos had been conquered by love. His mates would point out the chaos that bloomed from everything he touched; they would argue that like the finest steel, he had been tempered. To love and be loved in return . . .

"Okay, stop right there," Discord said.

"What?" Fluttershy asked, startled by Discord's sudden end to the comfortable silence.

"I wasn't talking to you, my dear Fluttershy." Discord said, focusing on a fourth wall. "And you, have you no decency? I know you have plans for me, but you are more than capable of holding your own for now.""

"Who are you talking to?" Fluttershy asked as Alice followed Discord's gaze.

"Just a bunch of nosy busybodies," Discord said as he snapped his fingers.

"What did you just do?" Fluttershy asked.

"He just changed the chapter's title," Alice said, looking up.

"What?" Fluttershy asked, confused.

"Don't worry about it my dear. They will not be bothering us for long," Discord said. With those words, he snapped his fingers again.

The draconequus turned the story back to the appropriate level of immaturity.





Years of training in occlumency left the body with conditioned responses. Forced disruption of mental processes triggered a spike in renal function to filter out intoxicants while gradually increasing blood flow to the brain. The body was kept still as the higher brain functions were restored.

Pain. Triage indicated nothing life-threatening. Back of head was sore. Left wing was cramping, Wing? Form was no longer human. Scents of animal were near -- something familiar, something needy?

"There's no need to pretend," a female voice said. "Even a blind mare could tell you are awake by the way your ears are swiveling."

Without betraying any emotions, Severus Snape opened his eyes and found himself on a bed of straw. The gentle luminescence of his surroundings revealed stalactites and stalagmites. Turning toward the voice, he was not surprised to discover two mares sporting bat wings eyeing him hungrily. "Good morning," he said drily.

The mare to his left tilted her head slightly. In a different voice, she said, "You truly were not raised as one of us. Only a day walker would say 'good morning' when they first wake up."

Severus got to his hooves without saying a word.

In the first voice, the mare to his right said, '"Nopony is going to hurt you. You must help us; you are our only hope."

"Spare me the histrionics." Severus sneered. "A toddler could deduce both your motivations and intentions. You've done nothing to change my mind."

The two mares gazed back at him with wide glistening eyes. The one on the left laid her ears back on her skull.

"Don't look at me like that; it's illegal," Severus snapped.

"It is?" asked the mare on the left.

"If it's not, it should be," Severus said.

An uncomfortable silence followed.

Finally, the mare on the right bitterly said, "After what we've just done, what's one more crime?"

"If you're feeling remorseful, you could always return me to my dates," Severus advised, unimpressed.

"We can't!" the mare on the left wailed. "We need you to survive for another generation!"

"I surmised as much," Severus said.

"We're sorry," the mare on the left said, looking close to tears. "We don't want to make you uncomfortable, but you have to understand that we'll be on the brink of extinction unless you help."

"Assault and battery is hardly persuasive." Severus fixed her with a withering gaze. "I have already said that I understand your motives. For what it's worth, I don't fault them."

"You're taking this rather well," said the mare to the right. "I promise we'll do everything to see to your pleasure."

"I presume that would be the best way of convincing me to service you," Severus said drolly.

"We are not worthy," said the mare on the right. "You will have your pick of many innocent mares. Once you have secured the future of our kind, Inky and I shall present ourselves to Princess Luna with our confessions. She is sure to banish us, but it will be worth it to know there will be foals and grandfoals."

"I am your prisoner then?" Severus asked.

"Prisoner is such a horrible word," Inky said. "Please think of yourself as our guest."

"Am I free to leave if I so choose?"

"I'm afraid that is not yet possible," said the mare on the right.

"Then 'prisoner' is the appropriate word," Severus replied.

Inky hung her head in shame. "I'm sorry you feel that way. You must think we are dreadful ponies."

"No, I suspect you are individuals who are doing what you believe you must." Severus sneered. "Do not let me weigh on your conscience. My own past is far from innocent, and my motivations were much less pure. Far be it for me to judge you too harshly."

The mare on the right perked up. "That is undeservedly kind of you. Does this mean you are going to cooperate willingly?"

"No." Severus said. With a small crack of thunder, he was gone.

Silence reigned for several seconds before Inky declared, "Buck! Hooman stallions can teleport!"

"That went sideways faster than Celestia can scarf down a wedding cake," said the other mare as she headed for the cavern's entrance. "Come on, we need to tell Onyx! That stallion couldn't have gotten very far without a horn."

"How do we stop him from teleporting again once we find him?" Inky asked.

"I don't know; he doesn't have a horn, and the suppressor rings are way too small to fit on his other focus."

"That sounds painful and would most likely make it difficult for him to sire foals," Inky chided.

"I was thinking his forelegs!" the other mare countered. "He's probably using his hooves to channel magic!"





Any serious historian would know that late nights and odd hours led to the myth that doughnuts are a law enforcement officer's best friend; precious little else was available fresh when most honest folk were fast asleep. If they were being honest, any law enforcement officer, however, would confess that their true love was a steamy seductress, hot as hell, black as sin, and strong enough to wake the dead. Even now, she serviced the combined strike team as they sat around the conference table at the local constabulary. There was not a single officer without a mug of coffee.

"We're not going to find them, are we?" asked Inspector Samson.

"If we do, I suspect they will not be in one piece," the auror, Shacklebolt, said solemnly. "Whomever did this had a plan. Being found and receiving credit were not part of that design."

Samson grimaced. "What do we know of the individual or individuals who have made it their business to play hero?"

Shacklebolt's second in command, Dawlish, the only other wizard in the room, spoke up. "Only that they obviously have access to the magical community, as evidenced by their possession of the public portkeys as well as their use of polyjuice. It is telling that they have someone who can brew complex potions."

Samson raised a questioning eyebrow. "What's polyjuice, and how do we know they used it? Wait, is that what that green slime was?"

"No," said Dawlish. "The green stuff is an unknown quantity. The fact that it is mildly magical is the reason we know it is a potion of some kind. Polyjuice, on the other hand, is a well-known potion used to change oneself into the form of whomever you obtain a hair from. Thus, the little girl who had the portkeys is most likely not really a little girl." 

"That's a leap of logic," Samson argued. "How can we be sure that this is the case?"

"Occam's Razor," countered Dawlish.

Samson replied, "I'll admit I don't know the first thing about real magic, but this also looks like something out of a penny dreadful."

"Can you think of an alternative explanation?" Dawlish asked.

"No," Samson admitted.

"Therefore, I must be correct," Dawlish said dismissively.

"Dawlish." Shacklebolt said with warning in his voice before turning to the muggle officer. "He may have made a terrible argument, but the fact remains that it is the most likely scenario. While I have no doubt that a child could infiltrate a slave ring and give the portkeys to the victims, it is completely unbelievable that a mere child could make the perpetrators vanish without leaving behind clear signs of how it was done. Based on what little we have found, I believe we are dealing with someone who has N.E.W.T.-level skills, who is talented enough to both brew the polyjuice and create their own unique potions. Since neither victims nor perpetrators were of the wizarding world, our mystery girl is most likely a muggleborn."

"In short, there is a witch out there bent on handing out vengeance, comic book style," said the lead of the muggle strike team. "Should we expect her to go around wearing a black tee-shirt with a white skull on it?"

"Except for the tee-shirt, that about sums it up." Dawlish said. "I can't say that I'm in any hurry to find out who he is."

"He?" Samson asked.

"Polyjuice doesn't make distinctions for sex," Shacklebolt said. "Our 'hero' could easily be either gender."

"I don't want to tell my superiors that we have no leads. Is there anything else that we got from the house?" Samson sighed.

"Absolutely nothing so far," admitted the lead of the muggle strike force, "unless someone walking off with the welcome mat counts for something."





Eos rudely forced her way into stately Black Manor as Sirius lay suspended between dream and reality. Slowly, he crawled back into the waking world. He relished the bliss as he spooned closer to his wife, absently sniffing at her hair. The scent of candy floss brought back memories of simpler times, He frowned when the hair tickled his nose; who in their right mind would make candy-scented shampoo? Cracking open an eye, he noted that his wife had somehow curled her hair and let the pink stripe take over. He sighed. He would never understand women and their cosmetic charms. Snuggling closer, he noted a couple things seemed to have grown.

. . .

. . .

. . .

"Pinkie!" Sirius exclaimed, suddenly awake.

"Huh? What?" the woman in his arms asked sleepily.

"What are you doing here?" Sirius demanded.

"Trying to get a little sleep," Pinkie answered.

Sirius thought hard for a few seconds. "Who's drooling on my back?"

"That would be Dashie," Pinkie said, snuggling closer.

A few more seconds passed. "Where's Twilight?"

"On the couch, silly," Pinkie murmured, more asleep than not.

An awkward pause punctuated the conversation. "She didn't have to do that."

"Tell that to Andi and Nissy," Pinkie said.

"They were just joking," Sirius replied, still confused.

"Keep on telling yourself that. Those two can be as scary as a stallion."

"Why are you here?" Sirius asked.

"Twilight didn't want you getting cold sleeping alone," Pinkie said, emphasizing the point by snuggling even closer.

"You're not wearing any clothes," Sirius squeaked with a little panic. 

"Neither are you," Pinkie noted with clinical detachment.

"Would you two keep it down?" rasped a familiar voice from behind Sirius. "I'm trying to sleep here."

"Sorry Dashie," Pinkie said as Sirius stiffened.

"Um," Sirius started.

"Go back to sleep," Rainbow commanded, snuggling closer to his back. Soon, Sirius found himself the only one awake as he desperately racked his brain for any clue as to how he came to be in his current predicament.





The spectacular landing outside the floo in the Leaky Cauldron nearly caused a panic when the crowd realized that it was not a child in a dragon costume who was peeling his face off the floor. More than a few scourgify charms were cast when they recognized the purple-haired witch with a pink stripe in her hair. There was a collective sigh of relief when she and a bushy-haired girl helped the boy who had bowled her over. Of the seven who entered, it was clear that some had little experience with that mode of transportation.

The group wove through the crowd, peering into each booth as they passed. They approached a booth where a lone wizard sat, picking up a bit of black pudding with a scrap of toast. He walked to greet the family that smiled at him in recognition. Somehow, he managed to find his way while his eyes continually scanned the room, each moving independently of the other.

"Good morning, Mr. Moody," Dan Granger said, holding his hand out to shake. "Thanks again for agreeing to help."

"Call me Alastor." Moody grunted as his artificial eye assessed the proffered appendage for any threats before he shook it. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"This is my sister and her son Hector," Dan continued. "They wanted to watch."

"As long as they stay out of the way and listen to what they are told," Moody said gruffly. "There's no telling what we are going to find down there. That goes for the rest of you as well." He eyed Hermione and Hector who were standing next to each other. "I'll be sticking you to your parents. Children your age don't recognize danger until after it bites you."

"We're just going to observe," Hermione said, hoping to reassure the adult. "We'll listen to everything you say, Mr. Moody."

"See that you do." Moody grunted. "Let's get a move on then."

"Just a second," Emma said. "Twilight wanted to help. She's here with Spike. He's magic-resistant and tougher than any of us."

"She's the pony who emptied the pub?" Moody asked. "And the one who trapped Abrahms in his current form? Someone who can't control their temper is nothing but a liability."

"Hey!" Twilight and Spike had come up behind the Grangers while they were focusing on Moody. "Discord burned rare books. It's inexcusable." 

Moody turned his eye to examine the small purple figure standing next to her, who waved back. "I know, I helped him. There wasn't anything in that batch that wasn't vile. What's your excuse for Abrahms?"

"He threatened to murder my son." Twilight seethed. "I've stopped him from hurting anypony."

"Dragons raised as pets lose their wariness of people." Moody snapped. "There has never been one that hasn't made a meal or two out of unsuspecting humans. Your boy doesn't fall into that category but Abrahms had no way of knowing. He was in the right. You overreacted, girl."

Twilight snarled, "How many dragons plea for their lives? Poor Spike wetting his bed for months."

"Hey!" protested the dragon.

Moody growled, "Wizards have used ventriloquism charms before. As I said, Abrahams had no way of knowing."

Twilight glared at Moody before deflating. "Fine." She sighed. "I'll change him back."

"Good." Moody nodded. "You can see reason."

"Are dragons in your world really that bad?" Spike asked curiously as Hector examined him without leaving Hermione's side.

"Worse," said the retired auror. "If you two are coming, then she is taking a calming potion before the vault is opened."

"Is that necessary?" Emma asked, defending her friend.

"I insist," Moody replied before addressing Spike. "Why don't you have a human form?"

Spike shrugged. "Never saw a reason to try." He casually buffed the claws on his right hand against his chest. "Why would I want to give up my scales?"

"It would cut back on unwanted attention," Moody said, starting for the entrance to Diagon Alley. "We are wasting time."





The silk curtains that surrounded the massive futon were drawn open slightly, revealing the pony pile peacefully dozing.

The elderly stallion who was dressed formally with waistcoat and tailcoat said, "Madame. You must wake up." 

Hazel Blossom moaned as a hoof prodded her side. "What's the hurry, Pepper Ale?" she asked her elderly butler, regretting that she had ended up on the outer edge of the pony pile that was her herd. 

"It's the guard," the butler said. "They are in the east sitting room awaiting your pleasure. They insist on talking to you forthwith."

"What could they possibly want?" Hazel Blossom smacked her lips, revolted by her own morning breath.

"There is a strange creature with them," Pepper Ale said. "They demand that you produce the young master for their inspection."

Hazel Blossom stiffened before relaxing. "That was quicker than I expected. Colts don't just appear out of nowhere. Doesn't matter though; we have all the paperwork and Max knows what to say." She turned over and poked the mare sleeping next to her. "Flawless, wake up. The guards have showed up at our doorstep. We need to go let them know everything is on the up and up with our new colt."

"What?" Flawless Gem stirred. "We haven't even enrolled him in school yet. Why are they here?"

"They have a lot of nerve coming so early in the morning." Hazel Blossom rolled off the cushion. "Let's just go tell them that Max is in safe hooves and send them on their way. I want to get a few more hours of sleep. We didn't get much last night."

"I know." Flawless grinned. "Best bits we have ever spent."

"Don't wake the others," Hazel Blossom said, nodding toward the two remaining sleeping mares and the stallion they were draped over.

"I shall go and retrieve the young master," Pepper Ale said, retreating.

Hazel Blossom and Flawless Gem shared some unkind words directed toward the guards as they made their way to the sitting room. Their conversation was cut short when they saw what was waiting for them in the company of the guards.

"What are you?" Flawless gasped as she looked up at the figure, ignoring the guards.

The creature smiled sourly at her. "I am a human," it said. "Just like the child you kidnapped was."

"Kidnapped?" Hazel Blossom asked, confused. "There are no goats here."

The human sighed. "Foalnapped," it clarified. "Max was removed from his foster home without any authorization. I am here to check on his welfare."

"Oh." Flawless looked from the human to the guards, added two and two and got four. "You needn't worry. He wants to stay with his brother, and we promise to raise him as our own." 

"His brother should still be in prison for the crime he committed," the human stated. "You bought a husband. Such criminal behavior speaks poorly of the sort of environment you are providing for Max. We were lucky that the officer remembered your names or we'd still be tracking you down."

Hazel Blossom stepped forward and said. "We may have paid for our stallion, but Will doesn't seem to mind. He says that if he had more money for a lawyer or had stolen a lot more he'd have been out already. I say he deserves a second chance. And we said we would raise Max as our own; what more could you ask?"

"Will isn't my concern." The human frowned and Hazel Blossom decided it was female from the sound of her voice. "I'm Max's case worker and Princess Luna has assured that I may inspect the minor's living conditions. The only thing stopping me from taking Max back where he belongs is that I'm well outside my jurisdiction."

Flawless and Hazel Blossom both took defensive stances and lit their horns aggressively. Suddenly, there was a stallion earth pony guard interposed between them and the human. "You won't lay a hoof on our son," Flawless growled; not a hint of uncertainty could be found in her voice.

Easily looking over the guard, the human asked warily, "Your son?"

"We did say we are raising him as our own," Hazel Blossom said through gritted teeth.

"Am I to just take your word for it?" The human narrowed her eyes in response.

"Ye,." Flawless and Hazel Blossom said in unison.

"Ma'am." A pegasus mare guard stepped forward. "They're legit; can't you feel the weight behind their words?"

The human blinked as she turned a questioning gaze on the guard. "Are you being figurative?"

It was the pegasus's turn to blink in surprise. "No, ma'am. Can't you feel it?"

"No." the human shook her head. "No, I can't. I am unsure exactly what you are alluding to, nor do I understand how it affects the situation."

"It means you don't have to worry about the foal being cared for, ma'am," the pegasus guard said. "It means they will do everything in their power to see that the colt is raised properly. It means they will do everything in their power to see to his well being. It also means you might wish to apologize to these mares before they think you are threatening him."

"You ponies take adopting children seriously, don't you?" the human remarked.

"Yes, ma'am."





The bulk of the Black Family was enjoying breakfast in their dining room when Sirius wandered in with a dazed look on his face.

Remus looked up from his breakfast and said, "Padfoot, are you all right? You look shocked."

"I woke up this morning in bed with Pinkie and Rainbow; both of whom were starkers." Sirius said, wandering over to take a seat at the table. 

"Are you bragging or looking for pity?" Ted asked. "Help me here, because I'm getting mixed signals from you."

"I'm not entirely sure myself," Sirius admitted. Almost as an afterthought, he said, "They said they would be down in a few."

"Way to go, you old dog." Nymphadora smiled at Sirius mischievously. "You've got yourself a prestigious herd."

"There is no need to be so dramatic," Andi scolded her daughter. "I've already checked the tapestry. There are no new names added yet."

"Is this really happening?" Sirius asked. "Does Twilight really want me to have multiple wives?"

"You’re thinking way too patriarchal." Nymphadora smirked. "She wants to share you with two of her very best friends; she wants to bring you into her herd. It's a different point of view; you'll get used to it."

"Where exactly is my beautiful wife?" Sirius asked. "I checked the couches, and she's not on any of them."

"She left a note," Andi said. "She promised the Grangers she would help ascertain the contents of the Lestrange family vault. She also suggested you go with Pinkie and Dash today; they can show you around Ponyville, and you can get to know them better."

"My wife is mighty manipulative," Sirius commented. "I haven't even gotten used to using the words 'my wife' yet."

"Nah," Pinkie said, bouncing into the room. "Twilight has a habit of helping others with suggestions, but you always know what she's aiming for. Who wants a positively palatable puffy pastry?" She brandished a tray covered with succulent-looking treats.

"Pinkie." Andi sighed. "What has Twilight told you about humans and clothing?"

"Never wear the same outfit two days in a row," Rainbow said, sauntering into the room. "Oooh, cherrychangas! Pass them this way."

"Yeah." Pinkie nodded her head, something completely overlooked by all of the men in the room. "We only brought one outfit apiece with us."

"Just give it up," Nissy said dismissively. "We're all adults here. There will be time later to go over the nuances." She examined the platter. "I'll have a cheese danish if you wouldn't mind."

Ted was munching on a pastry of his own. "These are just divine." He declared, "She's a keeper, Sirius."

"I'm sure her cooking was the main reason for that decision," Andi snorted.

"Andi," Ted moaned. "You wound me. You know you are the only woman for me."

"What color are her eyes, dear?"

Ted unabashedly raised his gaze to look Pinkie in the face. "Blue," he stated nonchalantly. "Definitely blue".

"I thought so," Andi said.





In Ponyville's spa, Imogen luxuriated in the tub of lavender-scented water as soothing bubbles brushed across her aching muscles. Her daughter-in-laws had insisted that she take some time for herself to recover from her ordeal. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she was relaxed and carefree. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt truly free.

The evil she had done had cost her dearly. She had been isolated from those she loved. She had lost her freedom. She had missed watching her little boy grow to the married man he now was. 

That was her old life. There was no going back. There was no reason to go back to trouble and the strife that lurked, ready to pounce the second she stepped foot back on earth.

Her freedom had come at a cost. While she had managed to bring Yippy, she knew she would never see her husband again. The ice blue coat that covered her hoof was a stark reminder of just how much had changed; there was no going back. Still, it was worth the price. Let someone else worry about the mudbloods wrecking what was left of wizarding culture. She had paid her dues; this was no longer her fight. Neither she nor her son would have anything to do with the troubles to come if she had anything to say about it. All she wanted to do was to help raise her grandchildren. While the little pink unicorn filly was a good start, with three wives, Imogen was sure that it would only be a matter of time before her son gifted her with more blessings.

She had her new beginning.

She would have her happy ending. Woe betide anything or anyone who would threaten that.
> Chapter 85: Typical Tuesday Tomfoolery
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The residents of Ponyville were used to strange and unusual sights. It would be remarkable if any Tuesday were not marked by some bizarre occurrence. Thus, on this Tuesday, the spectacle of Lyra Heartstrings leading four guardsponies through the streets of the town did not merit the scrutiny it would have been given on any other day of the week. The two humans in her entourage would have cause a panic anywhere else in the country, but the exploits of the Crusaders and their friends had inured those ponies to what would elsewhere be considered mythological beings. The red robes that the men wore were viewed simply as a welcomed relief from the pink monstrosities that Discord had wrought.

A careful observer would have noted that Lyra's mane and tail had stray hairs poking out at odd angles. It would have come as no surprise to them that this had been the busiest morning of her life. In this case, morning had been a technicality; an owl from Princess Luna had roused her in the dead hour, nearly giving Bon Bon a heart attack. The missive it had brought promised that the day would be unpleasant in the extreme.

The news had been the nastiest of the nasty. An undercover human agent had evidence of the highest of high crimes having been perpetrated. Lyra had been certain that this would spark a major interdimensional incident. She had shuddered to imagine the magnitude of the reparations that the human government would demand.

She had nearly given herself an ulcer before the British government had conveyed their response. To her surprise, they had given her an official thank you for the offer of cooperation, and they had stressed the value of the relationship between their two governments. The sale of stallions had been considered a nuisance compared to the security breach at the prisons. Anti-apparation wards would be erected at the facilities. Officially, the purloined prisoners were to be classified as exiles. However, the British government also made it clear they would be more than willing to take them back should they ever become a problem.

The missing colt, however, had been a more serious matter. The government had insisted on sending a caseworker to Equestria to confirm the child's wellbeing. They had made it clear that he was not a criminal. They had made it clear that there would be consequences if there were any hint of abuse or neglect.

Lyra still could not understand how anypony could be so blasé about such atrocities toward stallions. While she was relieved that Equestria was getting off griffon-free, she was still appalled at what had transpired. The only thing that had kept her from making a scathing rant about the mistreatment of stallions was the fact that she had been the only mare in the room.

The unicorn had scarcely finished her business at New Scotland Yard when Hedwig had appeared with a letter from Mayor Mare regarding the appearance of a fugitive from the wizarding world. That had prompted a hasty visit to DMLE headquarters. There, she had discovered that Imogen Lee had been responsible for crimes that put the combined misdeeds of all of the escaped stallions to shame. After she had relayed the information back to Celestia, the princess had dictated how Lyra was to handle the situation. The guardsponies had been waiting for her when she had returned to Equestria with the aurors. Now, it was time to tackle the next order of business.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Lyra studied the door in front of her before lifting her hoof to knock.

“Just a minute!” She heard Carrot Top call out from the other side of the portal. “Oh, hello there, Lyra,” the mare said after opening the door. Looking at the rest of the entourage, Carrot Top asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Hello, Carrot,” Lyra returned pleasantly. “Is Imogen Lee here?”

“She just got back from the spa,” Carrot said warily. “I can go get her if you like.”

“Please,” Lyra said, noticing one of the humans walking around the building.

“Are you going to arrest her?” Carrot asked.

Lyra sighed. “Carrot, please go get her. This is serious business.”

“The guards were enough of a clue for that,” Carrot said sadly, taking a step backwards. “Barnaby Lee is going to be devastated if he loses her again.”

“I’ll do my best to avoid that,” Lyra said in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. “Has he told you why she was locked up?”

“No,” Carrot admitted. “Is it bad?”

“Very,” Lyra said.

Carrot took a few seconds before saying, “Come in.”

“Thank you,” Lyra said softly. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry to disturb you this way.”

Carrot’s ears flattened. “Everything’s been going so unbelievably well. I knew it couldn’t last.”

“I can relate,” Lyra said, following Carrot inside and taking a seat on a couch. “Hopefully, I can find some way to work things out.”

“Carrot, who is it?” Berry Punch asked, coming into the room followed by an ice blue unicorn mare, who, upon seeing the human in red robes, soiled the rug beneath her hooves.

“Imogen Lee, I presume,” Lyra said from her seat. “I advise against running. That would only make things worse for you.”

Imogen whimpered and began to tremble violently. “Please. Just kill me. Don’t send me back with them.”

All of the ponies in the room were appalled at the mare’s words. Even the guardsponies let the shock show through their normally stoic facades. The auror sneered at Imogen. “It would be no less than you deserve,” he commented.

“I don’t think we need anything that drastic,” Lyra said after she recovered. “So long as Azkaban remains an option, there will be no extradition treaty with the humans. Shepherd here is present as a courtesy.”

Imogen visibly relaxed at those words. “What happens now?” she asked fearfully.

Shepherd waved his wand and scourgified the mess under Imogen. He turned to Lyra and said, “You should just send her back with us. Justice would be better served.”

Imogen took a step backward. She froze when Shepherd leveled his wand at her.

“Everypony calm down,” Lyra said, gesturing at a comfy chair. “Imogen, come over and have a seat so we can discuss your options.”

Not taking her eyes off the brandished wand, Imogen took the proffered seat. Morosely, she said, “I am at your mercy.”

Lyra nodded. “Celestia has taken banishment off the table. You are not a pony, and technically, you banished yourself. Tartarus is an option if you prove uncooperative.”

Both Carrot Top and Berry Punch sucked in a sharp breath at that declaration; both looked at their mother-in-law with new horror.

“However, being a witch,” Lyra continued. “Celestia will allow me to accept a carefully worded oath on your life and your magic. As long as you are not a danger to ponies, she is willing to give you the chance to atone for your past.”

Imogen began to laugh mirthlessly. “If it keeps me away from dementors, I'll bind myself to be your toilet. Whatever oath you require, you shall have.

Lyra blinked, surprised at the ease of the negotiation. “You don’t want to know what the oath is before you agree?”

“My life is literally in your hands. There are fates worse than death; I've lived them.”

“I don’t currently have hands,” Lyra corrected.

“Regardless, I am happy to leave my old life behind,” Imogen said, flabbergasted at how well everything was working out.





If anypony were to ask, Erratic Coverage would say that his favorite part of his job was keeping honest ponies honest. As Equestria's top insurance auditor, not a day would go by when he would find that somepony would have a slightly edited manifest, miraculously showing that they lost eighteen bushels of product instead of the actual sixteen. Gentle prodding was all that was needed to steer those ponies back onto the straight and narrow.

He also relished the challenge of the harder to prove cases. He was sure that there were more rare and priceless heirloom paintings lost to house fires than there were actual paintings. He still had fond memories of using the almanacs to prove that the claim for the lost shipment of cabbages exceeded the county's yield for the season.

This case, however, offended his sensibilities. He believed in the basic goodness of ponykind, but he also knew there were exceptions to the rule. This case was so blatantly fraudulent that he had made a point to book a seat on the first train to Ponyville once he reviewed the claims. It gave him no pleasure to take down a corrupt public servant, but he would make her an example for all who would dare to be so brazen.

Upon his arrival to the small farming town, he trotted directly to the local guard post and presented the evidence to the pony on duty. He said, "Sergeant, I want to show you these claims."

The sergeant flipped through the papers with his magic. He returned the documents and said, "It's Tuesday. Would you like to speak with the mayor directly?"

Erratic's disappointment was palpable when he replied, "No. I want you to come with me and arrest the mayor for insurance fraud."

Evenly, the sergeant said, "You are aware this is Ponyville, are you not?"

"What does that have to do with anything? The evidence is indisputable." Erratic's eyes narrowed. "Unless there's something you'd like to add."

The sergeant shook his head. "Private Parts," he said, "Please escort the gentlestallion to Mayor Mare."

The young guardsmare saluted. "Please come with me."

Following the private down the street, Erratic muttered to himself as he leafed through the claims with his magic. "There has to be more to this. I'm sure I've looked over all my . . ."

A young voice screamed, "Aaaaaah!"

Erratic looked up to find an overturned wagon with its produce scattered across the road. The rear end of a pinto colt barely stuck up above the wreckage. Suppressing a wince, Erratic wondered who in their right mind would use a wagon for transportation in such frozen conditions.

“My cabbages!” a stallion’s voice called out.

“Sorry Mr. Coleslaw,” came a Trottingham-accented colt's voice. “This is harder than it looks.”

The owner of the cart sighed. “Are you all right, Pipsqueak?”

“Yes; your cabbages broke my fall,” replied the colt confidently.

The cart owner sighed again and pointed a hoof. “Your broom is over there.”

Erratic sighed to himself. He looked at the mess and then skimmed a summary of the first claim.

“So, you still want to talk to the mayor?” the private accompanying him inquired.

“Of course,” Erratic replied testily. “Why wouldn’t I?”

The guard only shook her head and gestured for Erratic to follow her. Huffily, the stallion complied.

He was still muttering to himself when they were finally ushered into the mayor’s office.

“How may I help you?” the old gray mare asked, looking up from her own paperwork.

“My name is Erratic Coverage. I’m a representative from Grower’s Insurance. I am here to discuss some irregularities on your most recent claim submissions.”

“That was quick,” the mayor said. “I commend you on your prompt response. I wasn't expecting action for another week.”

Erratic bit back a sneer. “How could we not respond? You’ve submitted fifteen separate claims in rapid succession for fifteen separate incidents. All of which are practically identical.”

Sighing, the mayor nodded. "Yes, it has been a particularly trying time."

“You expect me to believe that you’ve had fifteen separate incidents?” Erratic seethed.

“Those were only the ones that caused noteworthy damage,” the mayor replied calmly.

“You’ve had more incidents in one week than Manehattan sees in a quarter,” Erratic snapped.

“Yes,” the mayor acknowledged. “Our rates reflect that. I’m just happy our policy specifically covers this.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe you had fifteen flying accidents causing this much damage?” Erratic barked.

“Like I said, those were just the ones that caused noteworthy damage.”

“Rubbish!” Erratic snapped. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve claimed each of these incidents was caused by an earth pony!”

“Yes, well . . .” The mayor was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass followed by a brown blur colliding with the wall of her office.

“Ow!” complained the earth pony colt tangled up with a broom on the floor.

“Button Mash!” the mayor cried out. “Your timing was impressive, but how. . .” She glanced at the calendar on the wall. “Oh, it’s Tuesday. How could I have missed that?”

“Hehe, hi Mayor Mare,” replied the colt.

“You were all told to practice in the field north of town,” the mayor chastised sternly.

“Sorry.” Button Mash winced. “My broom just got away from me.”

“I just had that window replaced.” The mayor’s voice gained a couple octaves

“Sorry,” Button repeated.

“You are such a loser,” a voice heckled, and Erratic turned to see a young filly wearing a tiara hovering just outside the now-empty window frame. She was on what appeared to be a broom and was conspicuously missing horn and wings.

“Hey!” Button started but he was drowned out by another filly’s screaming, “Look out!” A purple blur collided with the hovering tiara-wearing filly, whisking both of them away. A loud crash soon followed.

“I can’t say she didn’t deserve that,” the mayor muttered.

“I thought those things were trainers with a top speed of a fast trot,” said the private whom Erratic had forgotten about.

“They’re also not supposed to go higher than twenty hooves.” The mayor sighed. “You’ve seen how well they adhere to that.”

“These things are tribalistic,” Button said, finding his hooves. “Silver Spoon’s tried to drown her.”

“What?” the mayor exclaimed. “She crashed in a pond?”

“No, it threw her in a rain barrel,” Button corrected.

“She crashed in a rain barrel?” the mayor tried again.

“No.” Button shook his head. “It threw her. Then, when she came up for breath, it flew over and dunked her head under again.”

“You’re exaggerating,” the mayor scolded.

“Nope,” Button said. “On the bright side, brooms make excellent kindling.”

“Oh, my,” said the private. “Wasn’t hers one of the expensive ones?”

“’Was’ is the correct term,” Button said, picking up his broom from the floor. “Silver owled herself to go get another one. She brought a few ashes as a warning.”

“I’m starting to wish the Crusaders hadn’t donated forty training brooms to the town's children,” the private commented. “I’m surprised this isn’t coming out of the fund.”

“Why should it when our insurance covers it?” the mayor asked.

Erratic looked out the empty window frame to note that the two fillies had shattered a plate glass window down the way. “You have a flying earth pony foal infestation,” he breathed.

“For a certain definition of ‘flying’,” the private replied.

“Anyways,” said the mayor, smirking, “you were saying, Mr. Coverage?”

“I guess we owe a thing or two; we’ve just seen a thing or two,” Erratic said, cautiously backing away from the window. “I’ll write you a bank draft.”





“Thanks for unpacking us,” Pinkie said to Minuette as Sirius and Rainbow picked themselves up off the street in the middle of Ponyville.

“Anytime, Pinkie,” Minuette said. “Who’s the human stallion?”

“This is Sirius.” Pinkie said, hopping a little on her hooves in excitement.

“What?” Minuette said, startled. “What's wrong? What’s the emergency? How bad is it on a Tuesday’s scale of one to ten?”

“Wait! Wait!” Rainbow said, hopping into the air to hover above the rest. “This is going to get out of hoof way too easily. His name is woooooooof!” Rainbow's explanation was cut off by a grey blur colliding with her from behind, driving them both into the wall of the nearest building.

“Sorry Miss Dash.” Silver Spoon said as she staggered to her hooves.

“Oooooooo,” Rainbow moaned as she stood at attention.

“Dashie!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Are you all right!?”

Rainbow groaned.

Pinkie continued, "You know, there's no reason to be so formal. We're all friends here."

“I have a broom handle shoved somewhere I can’t mention.” Rainbow fell just short of shrieking. “Do I look all right?”

“Well, that decides the first stop of our tour,” Pinkie replied. “To the hospital!”





Unnatural selection had slowly made its way through the Ministry as a cabal of purebloods found themselves in search of new career opportunities. Despite repeated warnings against discrimination, they had seen fit to do everything within their power to delay the paperwork that had been submitted by a known muggle-born. It had taken a special breed of arrogance to ignore the endorsement of the Minister. It had taken a special breed of stupidity to raise the ire of Mad-Eye Moody. Still, they had managed to prove that freedom of choice did not equate to freedom from consequences.

Although saner heads had eventually prevailed, what should have taken a few minutes had been stretched into hours. To Moody's irritation, that was more than enough time for a woman to metabolize a calming potion, and everyone had taken her side when she had refused to take another. It was nearly time for lunch before the Grangers had the licenses needed to absolve them of any responsibility for any illegal items that might be in the Lestrange family vault.

His mood was further soured by the syncopated screams of terror that came from the lead minecart as they made their way to the vault. He scowled as he followed the conversation that drifted back.

“Does anything in this world travel at speeds less than ‘Sweet Celestia, we’re going to die’?” Spike complained as he scrambled out of the cart he had shared with Twilight, Hermione, Dan, and Emma.

“On the Jolting Thrill Coaster Scale, this barely ranks above 'hold my hoof, mommy',” Twilight said as she followed him out.

“That wasn't my hoof that Hermione was trying to crush,” Spike retorted.

The impatient stomping of a wooden leg reverberated through the cavern as Moody stormed over. “Now that the red tape is cut and we are finally all here. . .” He jerked his head in the direction of the still-closed vault door to finish his sentence.

“And I believe that is my cue,” said a familiar voice that seemed to come from both everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Mr. Discord?” Hermione asked hopefully as Hector came to stand next to her.

“Cowabunga!” The crowd turned to view the spectacle of a man in an Edwardian swimsuit that was gaily striped in red and white, surfing down the tracks on an olive drab longboard that was trimmed in red. He shot the curl and landed neatly atop the front minecart. The wave vanished as soon as he touched down.

Emma giggled at the display while the two goblins with the group scowled at the unexpected intruder. “I think you are mixing your references,” she said.

“Do you not like?” Discord asked, hopping off his surfboard just before it disappeared with a pop and puff of smoke.

“No,” Alice said from behind the gawking party. “I don’t. In fact, I don’t ever want to see you in that outfit again.”

As one, the group turned to look at her.

“He taught you his method for apparating,” Moody growled.

Alice shrugged. “Family magic,” she said dismissively.

“As you wish, my dear. I have a new ensemble I have been dying to try out.” Discord said, snapping his fingers. There was another pop. Now, he sported gleaming white harem pants with a matching turban. The pectorals biceps that he displayed made him look like a steroid overdose victim.

“No. Just no.” Alice snapped her own fingers, and then Discord was dressed in a tweed three-piece suit that would do an Oxford professor proud.

“Don’t feel bad,” Dan said consolingly. “Emma chooses my outfits for me as well.”

“That’s because you have a horrible sense of fashion,” Grace told her brother as she ran her eyes up and down Discord. “She, at least, knows how to dress her man.”

“Discord, why are you here?” Twilight asked, narrowing her eyes.

“My dear,” Discord said. “Like you, I received an invite to this intriguing occasion. There is no telling what wonders and horrors await us beyond that door.”

“You’re not going to be burning any more books,” Hermione declared, also narrowing her eyes.

“Such thoughts are the furthest thing from my mind,” Discord said, though he did take the precaution of summoning a baker's dozen of fire hoses surrounding Twilight with their nozzles.

“I’m sure Alice will keep him on a tight leash,” Emma said reassuringly. “Though, depending on what we find, book burning might very well be warranted.”

“Emma,” Twilight whined. “Not you too.”

“Actually, I’m not staying,” Alice said. “Fluttershy and I have planned to spend the afternoon doing some last-minute holiday shopping. I just wanted to stop by and say hello.”

“It’s always good to see you. Don’t be a stranger,” Dan said. “Say hello to Fluttershy from all of us.”

“I will. Bye now,” Alice said. Then, with a snap of her fingers, she was gone.

“Great,” Twilight grumbled. “Now there are two of them.” The two goblin guides shared a look that clearly said they were thinking the same thing.

“Are we done with the delays?” Moody asked gruffly.

“Indubitably,” Discord cracked his bullwhip, nearly knocking off the fedora rakishly perched on his head. His outfit had changed to a modified flight jacket and khakis. “Onward!”

“Not that I don’t appreciate that outfit and what it signifies,” Emma said, “but I think you should go back to the one Alice chose for you. I’m almost positive we won’t be finding an ark in there.”

Discord snapped his fingers again as one of the goblins collected the key from Emma and opened the vault. Everyone stared in awe as the piles of gold and other valuables were brought into view.

“Okay,” Grace said. “Now I don’t feel so bad about you paying for Hector’s schooling.”

“Seeing the amount on paper doesn’t prepare you for seeing it in person,” Emma stated.

“Here we go,” Discord said, taking the lead by marching forward. “Everybody in.” He swept his gaze over the contents of the vault before stopping mid step. “And everybody out.”

“What?” asked several voices in confusion.

“Out. Out. Everybody out,” Discord repeated, throwing his arms wide to impede progress while backing up himself.

No one argued as they retreated over the vault threshold.

“What did you see?” Moody asked, wand in hand.

“That cup over there on the pedestal.” Discord pointed.

Moody’s wand maneuvered through several diagnostic spells while Twilight’s glowed as she performed her own analysis.

“Mrs. Granger,” Moody said in a voice that brooked no arguments. “Take the children and your sister-in-law back up to the alley.”

“Come on kids,” Emma said, herding the mentioned individuals. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”

“Actually, ma’am,” one of the goblins said. “Your husband is only the regent of your family. It would be best if a blood member were present.”

“Grace, would you mind?” Emma turned a questioning gaze on the Granger sibling.

“Do you even need to ask?” Grace queried, taking over the herding.

“How bad is it?” Dan asked once the minecart had left.

“It is the worst kind of magic.” Moody grimaced. “Vile doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“Actually,” Twilight said, “as bad as it is, I recognize the magical signature and have means back home to easily counter whatever it might throw at us.”

“I am going to want to hear the story behind that once we deal with this,” Moody insisted.

Twilight sighed. “Why not? I’ve already had to sleep on the couch once for not telling it. But first, I have some crystals sitting in a bowl back in my kitchen, I just need to go get. . .” *snap!* “Thank you, Discord. As I was saying, I just need to levitate this over to the cup and the worst should be neutralized.”

With a wave of her wand, the clear marble-sized crystal was engulfed in a magenta aura before being floated over and deposited into the waiting cup.

“How long until we can tell if that is going to work?” Dan asked.

The cup started to scream.

“Never mind,” Dan added.

“Stay here,” Discord commanded, wielding a pair of foundry tongs and lowering his welding mask as he advanced.

“It should be safe,” Twilight said over the agonized wailing from the object in question.

“My dear, you can never be too careful with items that want to take over your entire being,” Discord said, lifting the cup with his tongs. With a snap of his fingers, a portal appeared. Without hesitation, Discord tossed the cup, tongs and all, through the waiting opening. He snapped his fingers again, closing the rift.

“Where did you send it?” Moody demanded.

“To an uninhabited universe where nothing moves,” Discord said. “Nobody is going to retrieve it.”

“What’s stopping someone from sending an owl to get it?” Moody countered.

“There are limits to how far an owl can fly, even across dimensions,” Discord explained.

“Last time I checked, there was a shop full of owls in the alley that could fly this far in under an hour,” Moody insisted.

“Ah yes, I see your misconception.” Discord hummed. “You are thinking in terms of from here to there; completely discounting the distance from here to the cup.”

“Which is just on the other side of the portal you just made,” Moody said.

“I did say that nothing in that universe ever moves.” Discord said pointedly.

“Oh! Oh!” Twilight said. “That’s ingenious.”

“I must be missing something here.” Moody said. “I’m still not seeing it.”

“Do you realize just how fast our planet circles the sun?” Emma asked. “Or how fast the galaxy spins?”

“That’s not even counting the general expansion of our universe,” Dan added.

“The cup is already further away than any owl could travel in a thousand lifetimes,” Twilight finished. “That’s not even taking into account the return trip.”

“For all practical purposes, that cup was just obliterated.” Dan finished.

“That’s not entirely true,” Discord corrected gaining everyone’s undivided attention. “There was a piece of a soul in it. Somewhere there is another piece that will always be attracted to it. Sooner or later, nothing is going to be tying that soul to this plane of existence and it will be sucked into that other dimension. Otherwise, yes, the cup was effectively obliterated.”

“I know whose soul that was.” Twilight said.

“Oh?” Discord asked. “Whose?”

“Voldemort’s.”
> Chapter 86: Lockups, Luncheons, and Leftovers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The thestral stallion looked about his surroundings with muted wonder. He had expected Canterlot's central detention facility to be a dreary testament to the consequences of crime. Instead, the minimum-security cell seemed more like an oversized playpen, with every surface padded to prevent injury. The walls were painted in bright and welcoming colors. Bunk beds were furnished with comfortable mattresses and gaily-colored quilts. Sunlight streamed in from the skylights, and a gentle breeze blew in from the large window set higher than he could hope to climb.

Despite the room's appearance, the stallion had no doubt it was more than adequate to keep the average citizen incarcerated. The bars that made the front wall seemed sturdy enough. Considering that a third of the population could fly, he was positive that the window was heavily warded.

The yellow earth pony stallion who towered over him, however, stood as a stark reminder that the surroundings were anything but friendly. The brute exuded menace as he examined the thestral in minute detail. From an occupied bunk, a rust-colored earth pony stallion said nonchalantly, “That there is Dense; he works for me.”

“I see,” Severus said, emotionlessly looking up at the imposing stallion.

“While we are in this . . .” The rust colored stallion took a few seconds to find the right words. “Unfortunate situation, it would be best to lay down some ground rules. For the duration, I feel I should inform you that you will be taking orders from me.”

“I see.” Severus sneered. “In that case, I should inform you that I am an omnivore currently in the body of a pony.”

The rust colored stallion sneered in return. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

"Beshbarmak, sauerbraten, sfilacci, leberkasesemmal."

"Friends of yours?" asked the rust-colored stallion.

"No," Severus coldly replied. "Those are some of the ways we would prepare you at home. I think your liver would go nicely with some fresh fava beans."

The looming stallion took a wary step backwards as his rust-colored leader squeaked. “Fava beans?”

“And a nice chianti,” Severus added.

“Chianti?”

“Actually, an aged amarone would go better with liver,” Severus mused.

“What are you doing in minimum security?” the rust-colored stallion squealed.

“I was hoping to take a quick nap,” Severus said.

“Right. Take whichever bed you want.”

“You are so very kind,” Severus said, derision dripping from his words as Dense took a few more steps backwards.

“We don’t want any trouble,” the rust-colored stallion said.

“Trouble?” asked a voice from the window. “Why would there be any trouble?”

Severus refocused his attention and found a dappled grey pegasus stallion flying through the open window, carrying a large white cardboard box. “What are you doing here?”

“Just waiting for Marabell to come bail me out,” the pegasus said nonchalantly. “I’m in for an earful, let me tell you; you know how it is with mares. I swear, I'd go nuts if I didn't get drunk and disorderly every now and again.”

Wistfully, Severus looked out the wide-open window and stretched his wings. An experimental flap didn't even lift him off the ground. With a sigh, he folded his wings. He asked the pegasus, "Where did you go?"

“I was getting peckish, so I went and got doughnuts,” the pegasus answered. “What’s with those two?” He gestured at the two cowering in a corner of the cell.

“They were just reminded of their manners,” Severus stated.

“Yeah.” The pegasus shrugged. “Don’t mind them. They’ve read one too many gangster novels. I’ll bet you think the big guy’s name is Dense.”

“You’re back,” a mare’s voice said from the other side of the bars, “and you brought doughnuts, I see.”

“Yup,” The pegasus brandished the box proudly. “Doughnut Joe’s, only the best.”

Severus turned to see a guard had come by to check on them. “Did you get any with cream?” she asked hopefully.

“No, sorry, but I have a few with custard.”

“Bleh!” The mare stuck out her tongue.

“Jelly filled? I have raspberry and strawberry,” the pegasus said, nonplussed.

“I’ll have strawberry, please.” Soon, she had a pastry floating over and was munching away. “Thanks,” she said through a half-chewed bite.

“Do you have any with chocolate glaze?” the rust-colored stallion asked as he and Dense came forward to inspect the contents of the box.

“How about any with fava beans?” Severus asked casually. There was a clatter of hooves as the two stallions stopped their forward motion and hurriedly retreated to the farthest corner.

“What’s with them?” the guard asked through another mouthful.

“It appears they’ve had a really effective lesson in manners,” the pegasus said. “Yes, I have two with fava beans, one with vanilla frosting and one with maple.”

Without registering his surprise on his face, Severus said, “Vanilla, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I brought them back for everypony else,” the pegasus said. “I ate mine with my coffee. Didn’t want it to get cold on the trip from there to here.”

Severus carefully studied the pastry before taking a tentative bite. Fava beans had no right tasting so good in a doughnut. “Mmmm,” he purred.

“Like I said.” The pegasus put the box down. “Only the best from Doughnut Joe’s. So, what are you in for?”

“Dine and dash,” the guard said after swallowing. “He popped back into the café he stiffed the night before, and when confronted, tried to pay with some funny coins.”

“I was abducted against my will,” Severus said sourly. “Once I can contact my dates or find a method of exchanging my coins for the local currency, I shall clear the ledger.”

“Which is why you are in minimum security and we sent a runner to the palace,” the guard said. Somehow, she managed to use her forehooves to make air quotes without rearing up. “A ‘foalnapped’ stallion would have been brought to the attention of the princesses immediately.”

The doughnut-bearing pegasus looked at Severus and said. “Yeah, I’m going to have to call you on that one. You’re way too calm for a stallion who's just been foalnapped.”

“Obvious lie,” the guard agreed, “but nopony should get that worked up over a few bits worth of food. I’m sure we’ll work something out. You know, get you back on your hooves. I even know a few of the nightguard, maybe I could introdu. . .”

The doughnut-munching mare was interrupted by a thud that sounded like the world's largest bass drum as a blast of air rushed up past her.

“Severus Snape?!” demanded a loud, accented voice from somewhere below.

There must have been a reply because the next words heard were “Where’s that?” followed by “Thank y'all kindly, miss”.

“What the . . .” the guard started when an orange blur resolved into a familiar mare.

“Severus, yer safe!” Applejack exclaimed as she hooked a forehoof around the lock of the cell’s door. There came the awful screeching of rending metal before Applejack tossed the obstacle over her withers. “Were y'all hurt? Did those varmints scare you? Did they feed you?”

Severus attempted to answer the torrent of questions, but lacked the lungpower necessary to both respond and survive the hug he found himself engulfed in.

“What?” The guard was sure that her jaw had hit the ground, just like her half-eaten doughnut. Her shocked gaze fell on the discarded door. “Nopony short of Celestia should have been able to do that!”

“Squeak!” Severus protested.

The guard regained her bearings and lit her horn in warning. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to release that stallion and take a few steps back.”

Applejack loosened her grip but didn’t let go. “Sorry 'bout that. I was just all worried like.”

“Your concern was misplaced,” Severus wheezed. “I was never in any danger.”

“The door?” The guard brought the conversation back on track.

“Ah’ll pay fer that,” Applejack said.

“You shouldn’t have been able to do that,” the guard said.

“Ah’m an Apple.”

The guard paused to consider the new information. “. . . Still . . .”

“Ah’m from Ponyville.”

“No further questions.” The guard relented. “I’ll draw up the bill for your meal and the repairs.”

“Thank y'all kindly.”

“We hope we are not too late.” Severus watched as a large winged unicorn came into view, carrying a zebra in her magic. The striped mare was heaving for breath, her barrel expanding and collapsing in an exaggerated rhythm.

The guard snapped to attention as the other stallions in the cell stiffened in surprise.

“Zecora,” Severus said, “are you all right?”

“I fear right now . . .” *wheeze* “. . . my breath is hard to . . .” *wheeze* “. . . grapple.” *wheeze* “I just tried and . . .” *wheeze* “. . . failed to outrun an . . .” *wheeze* “. . . Apple.”

The large unicorn/pegasus hybrid looked at the discarded door before addressing Applejack “Couldst thou not have waited for the door to be unlocked?”

“Ah may have gotten a bit carried away,” Applejack admitted. “Sorry, Princess Luna.”

“Tis easily repaired,” Luna said, lifting the door in her magic. “We shall correct thy enthusiasm, then proceed with the questions.” As she was maneuvering the door back into position, she scanned the enchantments attached to it on a whim. A frown crossed her face, and she scanned it a second time. Then, just to be sure, she scanned it a third time. “Pray tell, why dost a jail door of low security bear such complex and thorough enchantments?”

“Ma’am.” The guard said still at attention. “We get our fair share of rowdy advanced students from the school. When they get bored, they add to our security. Some are even sober at the time.”

Luna looked first at the door and then at Applejack. “Have we mentioned recently how glad we are that thou art our ally and not our foe?”

Applejack blushed.

“We will be taking this with us. Send thy bill to the palace.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” acknowledged the guard.

“Now, what canst thou tell us about thy abduction?” Luna turned her attention to Severus, who was now sandwiched between his dates.

“There isn’t that much to tell.” Severus shrugged. “I was enjoying a meal, got conked on my head, woke up to a pair of remorseful ponies, told them I wasn’t interested and apparated back to the last place I saw Zecora and Applejack.”

“You really were foalnapped?” the pegasus stallion said.

“Did thou get any names? See any cutie marks?” Luna pressed.

“Yes, but I have no wish to press charges,” Severus said.

“Your response is most strange I confess. Why no charges do you seek to press?” Zecora asked.

“Is this some kinda human thing?” Applejack asked.

“They weren’t bad people,” Severus said.

“Excuse me,” said a white mare who came to stand before Luna. “I couldn’t help but overhear, being in the next cell over and all. But this stallion is obviously suffering from Stockyard syndrome. I have a cousin who specializes in such cases. I could go fetch her if you like, your highness.”

“The option might yet be explored,” Luna said. “But first we shall do our own evaluation.” She stared Severus in the eyes. “Legilimens.” The results were less than perfect. Severus’s head snapped back as if struck while Luna flipped back head over tail landing heavily on her back.

A tense silence prevailed before Luna asked, with her eyes screwed shut, “Occlumency shields?”

“Yes,” Severus said, his eyes also closed.

“Formidable.” Luna rolled over onto her belly. “We must attempt that again.”

“Please don’t,” Severus said.

“Perhaps in more controlled conditions,” Luna said, shaking her head. “It would seem that our newest skill is denied us in this instance.”

“Your subtlety needs some work,” Severus commented.

“Certes,” replied Luna.

“Um,” said the pegasus stallion. “I’ve got doughnuts. Would anypony like one?”

“You should try the one with fava beans,” Severus said. “Rather good, if you ask me.”

The would-be gangsters in the cell whimpered.





Rufus Scrimgeour was only slightly apprehensive when he entered his boss’s office. “You called, ma’am?” he asked.

“This should have been brought to my attention immediately.” Amelia pushed a sheet forward for him to examine. “Why was it buried in a stack of routine reports?"”

Scrimgeour took a quick glance at the report. "That was my mistake. With everything else going on, this just slipped through the cracks, I'm afraid."

“A kidnapping slipped through the cracks?” Amelia snarled.

"The matter is outside our jurisdiction," Scrimgeour said smoothly. "The Equestrians are on the case, and they've assured us that the only danger Snape faces is an assault on his virtue. Between the muggles being portkeyed to the hospital, Mrs. Lee showing up in Ponyville, and witches raiding the local prisons, his case got pushed to the back burner."

Amelia sighed. “Do we have anyone free to help with the investigation?”

“I've tasked Shepherd to join in the investigation once the Lee situation is settled," replied Scrimgeour.

Amelia pulled the report back and read it carefully. “They want to breed him?” she exclaimed with more than a hint of incredulity.

“So, it would seem. I say just leave it be, and he’ll find his own way home.”

“I’m sorry, Rufus; I had only read that he had been kidnapped before calling for you.” Amelia grimaced. “You’re right; he doesn’t seem to be in imminent danger.”

“Would you like to join the pool on how long it takes for him to get free on his own?”

“No.” Amelia stood up. “I’ll just inform Hogwarts that their potions master is indisposed. If I didn’t know that Princess Luna was on the case, I’d say that you were underestimating the ponies who kidnapped him.”

“Actually, I’m counting on the ponies underestimating Snape.”

“There is that.” Amelia said, placing the sheet back on her desk. “Is there anything else that should have been brought to my attention?”

“The commissioner of Scotland Yard wanted to meet with you this afternoon,” Scrimgeour said. “I told him that you would be coming in late today and rescheduled for tomorrow.”

Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. “We need more aurors.”

“You were the one who told me that not only was the Minister willing to increase our budget, but also the muggles were interested in supplementing our department as well,” Scrimgeour said. “With other departments downsizing, we should have our pick of candidates.”

“We need more aurors right now,” Amelia corrected.

“We have what we have.” Scrimgeour shrugged.

“If anything like this shows up again and you don’t tell me immediately, you’ll be doing paperwork for a week,” Amelia said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go floo Professor McGonagall.”

“Not Professor Dumbledore?” Scrimgeour asked.

Irritably, Amelia cracked her knuckles. “I'd prefer not having to explain to the Ministry why Hogwarts suddenly needs a new headmaster.”

“Fair enough.”





Minerva had come to the conclusion that even after casting the expansion charms, her office was the wrong venue for a full faculty meeting. It was an impromptu affair that had grown gradually as professors had dropped by in ones and twos to ask about the implications of the anticipated avalanche of new students that they would have to accommodate in the fast-approaching semester. Every professor was now crammed into the room, with two notable exceptions.

The most conspicuous was the headmaster himself. He had stated that he had urgent business at the Wizengamot, as well as having to convince the board members that he was capable of handling all of his current responsibilities simultaneously. The more intriguing absence was that of Professor Snape, whose dinner date had apparently turned into an overnighter. To no one's surprise, speculation had run rampant, and a betting pool had started the second he was overdue.

A flash of green from the floo brought a welcomed respite as everyone stopped to see who was calling.

Amelia's voice rang through. "Minerva, are you there?"

“Yes Amelia, I’m here,” Minerva called out, not leaving her seat. “I fear I am rather busy at the moment; is this personal or professional?”

“Professional, I’m afraid,” Amelia said. “Snape has been kidnapped.”

Minerva put down her quill. “Kidnapped? How could he get kidnapped on a date?”

“Pay up,” Sybil Trelawney demanded to the room in general.

“I told you we need to stop letting her in on the pools,” Goodman grumbled.

“So, who did Severus charm with his unique personality?” Filius asked sarcastically, fishing a pair of fat galleons from his pocket.

“It would seem that Professor Snape’s pony form is a rare breed that is in desperate need of new blood,” Amelia said. “Princess Luna says that they kidnapped him with the intention of having him sire some foals.”

There was silence, then there was laughter, lots of laughter, of which Professor McGonagall would deny partaking.

Somehow, somewhere, Pinkie Pie was pleased.





While Nymphadora's extended separation from her favorite cousin had been a serious matter, she had done her best to pay homage to his mischievous spirit. Throughout her schooling, she had enjoyed pulling the occasional prank. Her talent in shape shifting had provided opportunities that had been too hard to resist. The laughter had died when she had joined the auror corps. Such antics were ill-suited for that calling.

The ghost of humor had been resurrected when she had become an exchange student, no longer representing any authority. Her new friends and colleagues had proven to be far more receptive than what she had encountered in the wizarding world, putting her at the butt end of more than one good-natured joke.

Sometimes, pranks practically prepared themselves. New circumstances screamed for the obvious stunt to be orchestrated. While this would not be a master jest by any stretch of the imagination, it would be good for a few laughs. Besides, a little payback was in order.

As she trotted down the streets of Canterlot, she could feel the weight of the stares from passersby. She sighed. By now, the sight of her rainbow-swirled coat and the owl perched on her back should have been familiar to everyone in that district.

Before long, she spotted her objective. “Gordon!” She raised a foreleg and waved for attention. “Wotcher!”

“Tonks.” The griffin changed direction to land in front of the mare. “I thought you went home for the break.”

“I have,” Tonks said. “I was just thinking of you and decided to put in an appearance.”

Gordon tilted his head like an inquisitive owl. “Really?”

“Yup; heading to lunch, are you?”

“Yes,” Gordon said slowly. “I’d invite you along, but you don’t eat much.”

“I’ve found out why that is,” Tonks said.

“Oh?” Gordon asked. “Something other than being a pony trying to choke down meat?”

“Yup.” Tonks said. “Anyway, I want to treat you to this great place I found.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Gordon asked. “You know griffins don’t do herds.”

“Nah, strictly friends out for a meal,” Tonks replied.

“What’s the catch?” Gordon demanded.

“No catch,” Tonks said. “Can’t a girl show off her griffin friend every now and then?”

“I feel like I should be offended,” Gordon grumped.

“Free food. What sort of griffin could pass that up?”

“I’m in.”

“Just reach up and open the pouch on my owl,” Tonks said.

“Okay,” Gordon said. “What’s the big deal with the bird anywaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.”

Nymphadora savored the reactions of the surrounding ponies witnessing a bag devour a griffin before she addressed the bird. “After I get in, take us to my father.”





A human, a pegasus, and an earth pony walked down the streets of Ponyville. The earth pony looked over at the pegasus and frowned as she noted her awkward gait. "You know, Dashie," she said, "I thought you'd be too sore to walk after all that. You really should just hover along."

“It’s not safe in the air right now, Pinkie,” Rainbow grumbled.

“At least no lasting damage was done,” Sirius said.

“Tell that to the nurses,” Pinkie said. “Somehow, I don't think you should have told Silver Spoon to clean her broom with alcohol."

“For the record,” Sirius said, “I honestly did not know brooms could get drunk like that.”

“They needed a new waiting room anyway,” Pinkie said. “And Silver is good for it.”

“At least, as far as Tuesdays go, today has been tame,” Rainbow said.

Suddenly, a vanilla-colored mare ran past them wailing at the top of her lungs. “It had cupcakes!!!!!!!”

Pinkie glared at Rainbow. “You’ve been taking lessons from Twilight,” she said accusingly.





This stank. The air was a muddy brown as chimneys, smokestacks, and the rear ends of the noisy metal boxes that prowled the streets all added to the miasma. This was not what Gordon had in mind when he accepted the lunch invitation.

His companion was a rare, pink-maned example of one of the strange, hornless minotaurs that occupied the streets. As he padded behind her, he asked, "We aren't in Equestria anymore, are we?"

Tonks replied, "What was your first clue?"

"Unbelievable sights, unimaginable creatures. What is this place?"

The familiar tingle of magic began to form. "A whole new world . . ."

Gordon clamped a claw over his companion's mouth. "I can't handle that on an empty stomach." His eyes narrowed. "Why did your father ask how much I wanted for a dowry? I told you that griffons don't do herds."

Tonks pried the claw away from her mouth. "He was just teasing."

The two walked in silence for a moment. Suddenly, Gordon stopped.

“Tonks? When were you going to tell me that your name was Nymphadora?”

“Use that name again and I’m yanking out your tail feathers one by one,” Tonks snarled.

“I’m a griffin; I don’t have tail feathers.” Gordon gently batted her nose with the tuft of his tail.

“I’ll just have to transfigure you into something that does,” Tonks said evilly.

“You can do that?”

“Do you want to find out?”

“Next question. Why don’t you have a griffin form? You sure act like one at times,” Gordon asked, unfazed.

“Dunno.” Tonks shrugged. “Just never decided to try.”

The sound of metal striking metal filled the air, followed closely by the unending blaring of a horn.

“Are you sure those things are safe?” Gordon asked, rearing up slightly to look at the two conjoined go carts. “That’s the third time that’s happened so far.”

“The roads are slippery today,” Tonks commented. “That’s why we are sticking to the sidewalk.”

“Just so we’re clear, you’re never getting me in one of those.”

“Now I definitely need to introduce you to the Knight Bus.” Tonks chuckled.

“I don’t like the sound of that laugh.” Gordon narrowed his eyes slightly. “And you’ve been giggling the entire time we’ve been walking.”

“We’re here.” Nymphadora said, opening a glass door.

“Welcome back, dearie.” An elderly human waitress greeted them. “I see you haven’t brought your little one with you this time.”

“He went to visit his girlfriends today.” Tonks said, removing her gloves from her talons. “Staying out of trouble as far as I know.”





Draco peeked his head out and watched with horror. The scene was straight out of a nightmare. Body parts were strewn about haphazardly. Streaks and spatters traced their trajectories. It was hard to tell what was worse, the tentacled horde, or the two who fought them tooth and hoof.

If he hadn't known better, Draco would have sworn that the two ponies below were twins. However, he realized that Ronald Weasley could not have been born a pony, and that Apple Bloom was no Weasley. The two shared the same technique. The stood on their hind legs, side-by-side, nose to tail, grabbing at the cake monsters as they came. A quick bite and a swallow were enough to dispatch one. Draco could swear he had never before witnessed a more atrocious lack of table manners.

Draco winced as an occasional monster slipped past the defenses. A few of the cakes backed away, seemingly scanning their surroundings. Hastily, Draco drew his head back in. Looking at the two other colts sharing his hiding space, he said, “It’s official; I am now terrified of cake.”

“Shhhh!” Snips hissed. “They'll hear you!”





In the cafe, the waitress turned her attention to the griffon. “And who do we have here?”

“My name is Gordon.”

“Ah, from Equestria are we then?”

“I’m from Griffonstone actually,” Gordon corrected.

“Griffonston? Welcome to London.” The waitress studied him critically. “I don’t think you’d be comfortable in a chair; would you like a booth?”

“I can manage chairs just fine,” Gordon said. “But yes, I would prefer a booth.”

“You don’t seem surprised to meet a griffon,” Tonks said with a hint of disappointment.

The waitress tutted. “After meeting a changeling and an earth pony? I don’t see any need to make a fuss.”

“A changeling?” Gordon’s eyebrows rose in alarm. “Those are real?”

“You’re standing next to one,” the waitress replied.

Gordon looked at Tonks. “That actually explains a lot.”

“So, do you two want a private corner?”

“We’re just here as friends,” Tonks insisted.

“If you say so, dearie.” The waitress motioned for them to follow her. “Private corner it is, then. Asparagus is out of season, but I can get you some nice, fresh oysters.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow as Tonks followed with an air of resignation.





“Okay,” Sirius said, pointing his wand at what appeared to be a deranged vanilla bean with menacing fibrous tentacles protruding from it. “As far as I can tell, this is the source.”

“So? No more cake monsters?” somepony from the crowd asked.

“Not if we contain it,” Sirius said, levitating it into a conjured jar.

“Where did it come from?” somepony else asked.

“Sweetie Belle must have found it and decided to add it to her cooking,” Pinkie said.

“Why would anypony do that?” asked Sound Rebar.

“This is Sweetie Belle we are talking about,” answered Cherry Berry.

“But you’re supposed to use the insides of pods, not the whole thing,” protested Current Report.

“Again,” Cherry Berry said. “Sweetie Belle.”

“I, for one, feel better knowing she can’t spontaneously create cake monsters,” said Frost Wing.

“Does that mean you’ll let her in your kitchen now?” asked Azure Kiss.

“Right after you let her in yours,” Frost Wing returned.

“So, never then,” Cherry Berry stated. “Spread out and look for more of these things; we don’t want any more cupcakes if we can help it.”

Apple Bloom said, "That gooey white filling was delicious, though."

Ron added, "You sure we can't let a few dozen more through? Lunch won't be for another hour and I’ve got some room left.”

Apple Bloom nodded enthusiastically. “An’ the little ones are no wars as scary as the big one was.”

“A cuppa to go with would be heaven.” Ron opined.

Sirius looked at Rainbow Dash. “So, are things always so exciting around here?”

“Not exciting.” Rainbow shrugged. “Just another Tuesday.”
> Chapter 87: Them's Fighting Herds
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One place unknown to mere muggles was unique in that the best thing that could be said about it was also the most damning: Nothing there seemed to change. This was the graveyard of hope and happiness. Its bleak and foreboding walls had been rough-hewn from solid rock, making them look more like cliffs and scree than anything formed by mortal hands. The only features that even hinted at color were the sun-bleached panels of the wooden doors. Even without the dementors, Azkaban Prison qualified as cruel and unusual punishment.

In hushed whispers, rumors of a maximum security wing had spread throughout the wizarding world. In truth, all the prisoners were subjected to maximum security . . . and isolation . . . and the soul-draining caress of the dementors. A typical cell resembled a crevice buried by an avalanche.

In a typical cell, a filthy woman with long, stringy, ebony hair sat in the middle of the bare floor, talking to no one in particular between verses of what might be generously described as a song. What vestiges of sanity she may have had before being condemned to this place had long ago been ablated away by the toxic ambiance.

Measured footsteps announced a respite from the mind-numbing monotony. Four aurors in red robes escorted a grim-faced wizard in an ashen robe. The auror at the point slapped back the cover to the cell door's viewing port. He snapped, "Oi! Shut yer yap an' get over 'ere!"

The woman ignored him continuing her singing.

“Open it," the gray-robed wizard said. The auror at the point obliged. The other aurors followed him into the cell, and they surrounded the prisoner. Satisfied that they could apply any force necessary, the wizard entered and glared at the woman. "On your feet."

The woman stopped singing and looked up with a Cheshire grin. "Why, warden, what a pleasant surprise. Whatever could have made you leave your cozy office and visit li'l old me?"

"On your feet," repeated the warden gruffly.

"Ooh! A frisky one, aren't you?" purred the woman as she struggled to rise.

"Be quiet and stand there," ordered the warden as he plucked a pocket watch from under his robes and snapped open its cover.

“Seeing how long I can stand before I collapse?” the woman asked. “How delightfully sadistic. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I said be quiet,” the warden snarled.

“Or what? You’re going to beat me? Tie me up? Have your way with me?” The woman giggled. “Please do; I could use the break from the monotony.”

“Be silent, woman.” The warden did not look up from his watch.

“You’re no fun.” The woman pouted.

The warden did not deign to give her a reply.

“So, we’re just going to stand here and chat about the weather?” the woman asked. “It's always the same, dusty, with a chance of . . .” She stopped mid-sentence and tilted her head. “Oh,” she said softly. “Oh,” she said again, breaking out in a wide grin. “Oh!” she said a third time, clapping her hands together. “You’re here to let me out!”

The warden grimaced and shut his watch with a snap.

“Well, let’s not dawdle,” Bellatrix said, stumbling past the warden and through the doorway. “There’s a hot bath in my immediate future.”

Wordlessly, the warden and the aurors followed.





Anticipation hung heavy in the air of the sitting room in Grimmauld Place. An expansion charm cast in tandem with a mirroring charm was needed to accommodate all the occupants. Ted and Andromeda shared a love seat while Remus and Narcissa occupied its mirrored counterpart. Similarly, the adult Grangers sat on a couch, across from their children and the Longbottoms. In one wingback chair, Draco sat in the seat while Spike perched in on an arm. Mirrored across from them, Sirius was doing his best Father Christmas impression as Twilight sat in his lap.

Moody stomped from the floo, absently brushing ash off his shoulder. “Good, you’re all here,” he said as his artificial eye spun wildly in its socket.

“You did request our presence,” Andi said. “Considering you were ransacking the Lestrange vault earlier, and with you asking the Longbottoms to attend, it’s not hard to guess why.”

As Augusta Longbottom sat, she might as well have been carved from stone with a sour scowl plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry, Augusta,” Moody said. “One of the items we pulled was confirmed to be a sponsa decipula.”

Augusta swiftly stood, belying her advanced years. “No.”

“She responded,” Moody continued.

“I will not hear this,” Augusta interjected. “Neville, it is time for us to take our leave.”

“Yes Gran.” Neville followed the old woman to the floo.

Pausing with her hand halfway to the floo powder, Augusta said. “Dan, Emma I do not hold you responsible.”

After the flames returned to normal, Spike asked. “What’s a sponsa decipula?”

“It’s a bride’s cage,” Nissy said, anger dripping from her voice. “If it weren’t for the obvious fundamental changes, the Blacks would be declaring a blood feud on the Lestranges this very minute.”

Dan sighed, “How can we make amends?”

“Throwing Rodolphus and Rabastan out of your family is good enough in my books,” Sirius said. “Sitting in Azkaban with no family name must be driving them even more insane.”

“Her dowry will have to be returned,” Andi said. “Just as a matter of principle.”

“Of course,” Emma said. “We understand.”

“What’s a bride’s cage?” Spike asked.

Ted shuddered. “They are highly illegal artifacts. Their purpose is to subvert a woman’s will, granting her husband complete control.”

“Our sister?” Andi asked Moody.

“Is on her way to St. Mungo's as we speak.” Moody growled.

“So, another innocent Black was sent to prison?” Hermione asked with her hand raised as if in class.

“It isn’t that simple.” Andi sighed. “Bride cages are notorious. They override your will and do no small amount of controlling your outlook. We will never know how much of her crimes Bella did willingly or how much she was compelled. She could have been completely complicit or she could have been fighting the entire time. The only thing for certain is that her husband could have stopped her. She cannot be held accountable for her actions, any more than someone under the imperius could be.”

“So, they are letting someone out who could potentially be a psychotic killer?” Hermione said.

“They are also letting someone out who could potentially be an innocent victim.” Twilight countered. “That cannot be understated. We must do everything possible to be her friends. No matter how you look at it, she’s been through a horrific experience.”

“We are already more than that,” Nissy said. “We are her family.”

“Technically, she has been disinherited,” Ted noted.

“Sirius shall be reinstating her in light of this news.” Nissy didn’t miss a beat.

“Do I have to?” Sirius whined.

“Sirius.” Nissy snapped.

“But the paperwork!”

“Sirius.”

“I absolutely hate paperwork.”

“Sirius!”

“All right, all right, I guess I could make the time.” Sirius acquiesced. “It’s not like I have any real choice in the matter.”

“Um,” Spike said. “Shouldn’t you be contacting your lawyers to represent her?”

Sirius started so badly that he almost unseated Twilight. The fireball that blossomed in the middle of the room pushed him over the edge. In turn, he pushed Twilight over the edge. Her bum did not appreciate the rush.

“Hermione!” Sweetie exclaimed. “Hurry up! We're on!”

“You found him?” Hermione smiled, jumping from her seat. “Let’s go!”

There was another burst of flames and the two girls were gone.

“Well,” Remus said. “Is anyone else feeling a deep sense of foreboding?”





The anchorman smiled brightly at the camera and said. “Up next, we have breaking news from our 0921 SAW PONY hotline. Earlier, we have had several reported sightings of multitudes of young ponies wearing what has been described as chainmail.”

His partner tittered before saying. “We have a news crew on site, and we hope to have some live feed to share momentarily. Let’s go to our reporter on the scene, Heather Roseford.”

“Thank you, Mindy.” Heather said, as the display became a split screen. “As you can see, we are in Marlborough, where we have no less than a dozen collaborated sightings of a small herd of pony children, one of which is suspected to be the same pink pegasus spotted in London earlier this month. They appear to be playing some elaborate game, wearing matching suits of homemade armor and wielding a variety of toys. They seem to be hiding in this alley."

The camera panned across the crowded room to a matronly woman wearing an apron. "Mrs. Wycliffe, proprietress of the Boar's Trotters Pub has been kind enough to let us set up here where we can watch without disturbing the ponies."

Wycliffe said, "Today's special is pink pony punch. Hurry in while they're still here."





The raggedy man looked too old to be a punk rocker, but his appearance fit that description perfectly. He skulked about the bins behind the restaurant, furtively snatching edible bits. Silently, he cursed his lot. The goblins were keeping him on the run, but he still maintained a viable territory. He had taken full advantage of his ability to change forms to evade them. Had he been fully man or fully wolf, he would have been captured long ago. It had been a miserable existence, but he was still close enough to his objective to have a chance at success.

The wolf took hold, scenting the air. She was somewhere close; he could smell it. The bitch would be his even if it were the last thing he did. He had been tracking her scent for some time. Although her schedule was somewhat irregular, there were only a few places in the town that she would visit. Her paths were not a secure as she thought. For each one, he had planned the perfect ambush.

Stealthily, he peeked his head around the corner. She was there! He could take the back route and set his trap. This was perfect; no one would even know he was lying in wait.





The camera panned back to the alley. Heather said, "What do you suppose that dodgy-looking fellow is doing in there? He's hiding behind a bin."





Lavender Brown strolled down the streets of Marlborough with a long package wrapped in brown paper slung over her shoulder. As she approached an alleyway, a weak voice cried out, "Help me! Anyone! Please!"

Curious, the girl walked in to investigate. "Hang on! I'm coming!" As she approached the middle of the alleyway, she stopped, puzzled. "Where are you?" A shadow loomed over her. She spun around.





Heather said, "What's this? No, little girl! Don't go in there!"

The camera zoomed in. The dodgy man towered over the little girl. "Good lord! He's got her! Wait a minute. Those are the ponies creeping up behind him."





The tall, raggedy man said, "Do you want some candy, little girl?" Lavender slowly backed away. "There's no escape for you; this is a dead end."

Abruptly, the girl stopped. "Fenrir Greyback, under Section 24A of the PACE Act, I am placing you under arrest for the attempted murder of Darius Brown."

The man stopped for a moment in confusion before laughing. "You and what army?"

A chorus of young voices came from behind. "This one."

Greyback ignored the children behind him and sprang at Lavender. She dropped her package and crouched. He was about to grab her when her fist shot into the air with a boost from her legs. "Shoryuken!"

His chin snapped back at the impact. Shaking it off, he looked up just in time to see a gray form diving down at him. The form pulled up, sending a missile hurtling toward him. Twisting his torso, he evaded the bola, only to fall backward when someone bucked the back of his knees. Without looking, he grabbed the offender and threw it aside. He had no time to savor the sound of the impact when he caught a faceful of metal-reinforced net.

Switching to wolf form, he slipped his bindings. He lunged at Lavender's belly, bowling her over. Another twanging came from above, muzzling him with another net before he could bite the hapless girl. He rolled to his left as he struggled to slip his burning bonds as another bola bounced where he had been a split second before. He had scarcely shaken away the net when he turned toward a scream from the opponent he had thrown. "Bonsai!" A potted plant caught him full in the face.





The man's head snapped back. The crowd roared as Heather continued her narration. "Is that girl Lennox Lewis in disguise?"

"Unbelievable! They're divebombing him!"

The crowd cringed. "The red-maned one is going to be feeling that for a long time."

Suddenly, silence reigned. "Everyone, do you believe your eyes? We already knew magic is real. We now know werewolves are, also."





Switching back to human form, he leapt over the bola that would have ensnared the wolf's legs. Running in a zig zag, he dodged the nets and bolas that were slung at him. He leapt atop a bin and turned. His jaw dropped. He was being attacked by little horses in chainmail? This had to be the ultimate indignity.

He sidestepped just in time to avoid the head of the mace that embedded itself deeply into the bin. Kicking out, he caught Lavender in the face, staggering her. He body slammed her to the ground, only to switch back to a wolf to avoid being kneecapped.

As the wolf bared his teeth, a boy's voice came from above. "Cyclone Spin!" Impossibly, dust and debris swirled around him as the suction pulled him off the girl's back. He snarled as he was spun around. Abruptly, he shifted back to human, a form too heavy for the vortex.





The crowd roared. Heather said, "That poor little girl is taking a beating. What's this? Do you believe a wolf can fly?"





No sooner did he touch down when a girl yelled, "Let 'im have it with both barrels!"

He turned to see two examples of the cooper's craft flying at him, one aimed at his head, and the other at his torso. He switched back to wolf, and the projectiles sailed harmlessly overhead. He could see that his quarry was breathing heavily, bent over with her hands on her thighs. In three strides and a fraction of a second, he was at her throat.

Triumphantly, he bit down, hard, on the hollow under the collarbone.





Silence again filled the room. Aghast, Heather said, "It's over. Poor girl."





IT BURNED!

WHERE WAS THE BLOOD?

IT BURNED! IT BURNED! IT BURNED!

A mailed hand grabbed the wolf around the throat and tore him away. Wisps of smoke rose from every contact point. The girl snarled, "My name is Lavender Brown. You tried to kill my father. Prepare to die."

The wolf desperately writhed as its air supply was choked off. Lavender balled her fist and windmilled her arm. The wolf could swear that she was glowing slightly when the blow landed. Somehow, the pain of a shattered jaw detracted from the joy of flight.





The crowd roared. Heather screamed, "Unbelievable! She's alive! That was a bolo punch. Wait. Do you see that bright orange unicorn wiggling its hips while that mace is floating in front of it? It almost looks like she's addressing a ball."

The wolf fell, flailing, just in front of the mace. The unicorn mouthed, "Aft!" and gave a powerful swing of its head, complete with a proper follow through. The head of the mace traced a perfect arc.

Every male viewer simultaneously felt visceral dread. A few in the pub fainted when they heard the impact.

Brightly, Heather said, "I think losing a ball might add to the wolf's handicap."





The wolf tried to struggle past the pain. He was the alpha predator. He literally ate their kind for lunch. There was no way he would lose to mere children. He rose to his paws, glaring at the ivory unicorn with the sandy brown mane. The tube the pony held in his magic coughed out a silvery cloud. When it reached the wolf, a spark jumped from the unicorn's horn. The wolf's head was obscured by a blinding flash, and the stench of burning fur filled the air.

A yellow pony with a red mane galloped behind the wolf and grabbed its tail in its mouth. Between clenched teeth, he said, "BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!" as he whipped the wolf back and forth.





Heather said, "Good lord, its head is on fire. Wait. It looks like they're beating it out with the pavement." Looking up, she said, "That was quite the throw. It looks like the wolf is flying again."





The wolf felt a moment of weightlessness as he reached the apex of his trajectory. His limbs hung limply as two bolas struck him simultaneously. One secured his forelegs to his barrel while the other wrapped up his hindquarters. The weights on the front struck heavily on his skull while the weights on the rear reduced his chances of having offspring.

As he descended, the twang of a crossbow announced the launch of one of the nets he'd escaped earlier. It wrapped around his head before he reached the ground. Two more twangs announced two more nets, fully covering his body with metal mesh. His landing brought the welcomed relief of unconsciousness.





Shakily, the anchorman said, "Heather, is that what I think it is? Is the girl using 100 mph tape? Is she making a mummy?"

His co-host smiled and said, "I guess that's a wrap."





In her office, Amelia Bones slogged through her paperwork with the enthusiasm of the damned. A wave of relief washed over her when a knock at the door broke the monotony. She set down her work and said, "Come."

An auror stuck her head in the door and said, "Boss, there are a bunch of Gryffindor first-years in the lobby who say they have a present for you."

"Gryffindors?"

"Well, when I saw a werewolf wrapped in silver and duct tape, I just assumed."





In the new greenhouse at Sweet Apple Acres, there was a clack of hooves when Lavender watched while the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders high-hoofed.

“We showed that polecat that nopony messes with our herd!” Apple Bloom declared happily.

“We sure kicked flank!” Dean exclaimed, placing his net caster on a rack as a growling hiss echoed throughout their sanctuary.

“I’ll feed you in a few minutes, Albert!” Neville shouted. “You had better be keeping those roots in your pot, where they belong!”

“You might want to hurry up with that before he gets cranky,” Abigail suggested.

“I can’t wait to see if we got our werewolf hunting cutie marks!” Scootaloo said, tugging off her armor.

“I can’t wait to see what a werewolf hunting cutie mark looks like!” Sweetie added, starting on her own suit.

“I’m just glad Hermione already has hers,” Parvati said. “I’d hate to see what one would look like after she invented two-ball golf.”

Puzzled, Ron said, "I still don't see what's the big deal about getting a tattoo on your bum."

Apple Bloom replied, '"It ain't no tattoo. It's a sign of what you're good at."

Scootaloo added, "It's a sign of growing up."

Sweetie Belle said, "It's the first step to becoming a real mare."

Ron began to sing, "I don't wanna grow up."

Ginny clamped a hoof over his mouth. "Can it, Geoffrey."

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Ah got nuthin’,” Apple Bloom said dejectedly after examining her now-exposed flank.

“Neither did I,” Harry said, peering down at his own side.

“I’m still blank,” Ginny added.

“Same here,” declared Luna.

Lavender transformed, sending her gear back into interdimensional storage. "I've got something! What does it mean?"

“We got one!” Sweetie exclaimed. “We finally got one! This was an unmitigated success!”

Scootaloo climbed over Seamus to get a closer look at Lavender’s cutie mark before shooting Hermione a questioning glance.

“A complete and unquestionable success,” Hermione said, maneuvering for her own view.

“We got Lavender her cutie mark!” Scootaloo exclaimed, jumping in place.

“That thar is wonderful!” Apple Bloom pranced in place as she examined the fruits of their labor. Lavender’s flank sported a classic yellow heraldic shield with an inescutcheon of a femur being broken by a sledgehammer with a distinct silvery sheen. “Ah reckon’ that it means y'all can break bones when someone threatens someone yer protecting.”

“It fits her,” Luna said dreamily.

“Cutie marks always do.” Sweetie commented. “I’m so happy for you Lavender!”

"Y'all know what this means," said Apple Bloom.

“We need to find another werewolf and see if we can’t get some more marks!” Abigail suggested.

“Yeah, I want another chance at a werewolf hunting cutie mark,” Scootaloo piped up.

“Well yeah.” Apple Bloom agreed. “But y'all know what else it means?”

"A new crusade?" asked Seamus. “Cutie Mark Crusader Big Game Hunters?”

“There’s an idea.” Ginny nodded her head enthusiastically.

“I like it,” Dean opined enthusiastically.

“Yer all getting ahead of yerselves.” Apple Bloom said. "This here's a huge deal. We jus' got our first cutie mark from crusading. We gotta make a plaque so nopony forgets. Then, we gotta throw the biggest dang cutecenera in Ponyville history."

A feral growl hushed the crowd.

“Can we get something to eat first?” Ron asked. “I’m starving.”

“I could do sushi,” Neville said.

“A rare sirloin sounds great right about now,” Sweetie countered.

“I know a great Thai restaurant,” Hermione interjected. “Maybe it’s time to try something new.”

Parvati said, "It's Lavender's cutie mark. She should get to choose."

"I'm dead chuffed that we put the werewolf who attacked my parents behind bars." Lavender smirked. “Getting my cutie mark is just icing on the cake at this point.”

“Don’t say cake,” Ron groaned as Apple Bloom blanched.

Harry said, "I wonder what's going to happen to old Greyback now."





The routine of the high security wing in St. Mungo's was punctuated by feral growls as the healer triaged her latest patient. "You know, we really should bring in a veterinarian for this."

The auror replied, "Don't tell me this is the first werewolf you treated."

"The normal course of action requires a silver bullet," said the healer."

"He is going to stand trial, no matter what," Amelia stated. "Keep him alive."

The healer frowned. "We can't vanish his bindings. With silver still touching his skin, any magic could send him into shock and kill him outright.

The wolf turned his head toward the healer and growled.

The auror said, "He doesn't look very cooperative. How are we going to keep him from biting us when we free him?"

"We just need to make sure we wear protection," said Amelia. The others shot a questioning glance at her belly. Amelia groaned. "Get your minds out of the gutter."

The healer said, "I don't think there's any way we can take the tape out of the fur."

The auror shrugged. "There's only one way to find out."

The wolf whimpered.

Thus, began the Night of a Thousand Howls.
> Chapter 88: Restaurants Registration and Ranting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something was not quite right with the hustle and bustle of the holiday rush in Diagon Alley. Barnaby had anticipated huge crowds with sharp elbows; despite the tinsel and fairy lights, he had often found that the holiday spirit tended to be confined to bottles at 120 proof. This year, however, it was not just the children who strolled about in wide-eyed wonder. Shoppers in sensible robes were far outnumbered by those in woolen pants and balloon-like jackets. Surely, things couldn't have changed so drastically in the weeks he'd been away. He could hardly wait to inquire when he took his turn at the apothecary's counter.

“Hello sir, how may I help you?” the witch behind the counter mumbled as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“I need three dozen pepper-ups,” Barnaby said.

“Three dozen?” the witch asked as her eyes popped wide open. "You know, we don't recommend taking more than two per month. You should have plenty of time to come back for more after you finish the second semester of what I assume is your N.E.W.T. year."

Distracted by the crowd milling about outside, Barnaby replied without thinking. "Actually, I want to make the most of what's left of my winter break."

“You want to use three dozen pepper-ups in a week’s time?” The apothecary employee gaped. “Are you planning to spend your holidays in St. Mungo’s?”

Barnaby blinked. “No, I just plan on being very active.”

“You can have seven doses,” the witch said with finality. “I’d be a fool to sell you any more than that.”

“But . . .”

“That’s final.” The witch cut him off. “I don’t know what’s gotten into your fool head, but I’ll have no part of it.”

“Is that any way to talk to a customer? They're perfectly harmless when you're a little horse!” Barnaby snapped.

“Yes,” the witch said, unimpressed. "I'm not about to help any customer of mine turn their insides into haggis.”

Barnaby sighed. “Okay, seven then.” He paused to look out the window again. “Why are there so many people in the alley today?”

It was the witch’s turn to sigh. “Have you been living under a rock?”

“I’ve been sequestered since the winter break started,” Barnaby admitted. “This is my first chance to get to the alley.”

“I suppose you don’t know that the Statute of Secrecy has fallen then,” the witch said, using her wand to summon his order.

“What?” Barnaby exclaimed.

“I’ll take that as a 'no',” the witch said, packing seven bottles. “All the extra custom is from muggleborns and their families. The Ministry has released all the bindings on magicals who had forgone going to Hogwarts when they got their letters. In fact, they are coming in here to get potion kits for the upcoming semester. Everything’s already being paid for by the muggle government. I just have to keep a tally.”

“They’re just throwing a literal army of muggleborns into classes already underway?” Barnaby asked incredulously.

“Nah, they’re starting new classes for them. Bunch of new professors at the school and all.” The witch took Barnaby’s money. “There’s going to be a special session to catch everyone up with those already studying. They are rushing things in my opinion.”

“May I use your floo to make a call?” Barnaby asked.

“Five knuts,” the witch replied.

“Thank you.” Barnaby collected his change and purchase before making a beeline for the shop’s fireplace.





The maze of administrative paperwork in Professor McGonagall's office was both literal and figurative. The papers were in stacks taller than the witch herself. With Professor Dumbledore otherwise occupied, it fell on her alone to process every single sheet. With the new semester starting in little more than a week, she could not break away to lead the planning for the influx of new students.

To her relief, Filius had volunteered to take on that burden as he and the rest of the faculty hammered together a working plan. The process had been streamlined through the use of the microcomputer that the new muggle studies professor had brought along. Fortunately, his predecessor had directed him to commandeer the Gryffindor common room, where he could borrow the power supply and the protective charms to allow the electronics to function.

McGonagall had been amazed at the ease with which organization and scheduling could be done with the device. The others had been quick to point out that it could be adapted to ease both her current burden and the mundane tasks of the headmaster. However, there was simply not enough time for her to hunt through the jumble of little lettered buttons. Besides, the blue screen with white characters always seemed to crop up at the most inopportune moments.

Inopportune was the best description for all of the interruptions that plagued her. It seemed that every few minutes, the floo would flare with a call from a bombastic Ministry member or a frantic parent or an unctuous salesperson. She still couldn't believe anyone would buy a timeshare by the shores of Lake Titicaca. She sighed as the flames turned green once more.

“Professor McGonagall?” came the voice of a young man.

Looking up, Professor McGonagall assessed her newest disruption. “Yes Mr. Lee?” she said, maintaining her stern persona.

“Professor, I heard, that you were preparing for new students to arrive with the new term,” Barnaby said. “A mid-year admittance?”

“You heard correctly,” Professor McGonagall said. “As such, I have little time to converse. Please come to the point; I have a backlog of responsibilities to attend.”

“I’d like to enroll my daughter,” Barnaby said. “I hope it’s not too late to do that.”

“Your what?” McGonagall deadpanned.

“My daughter,” Barnaby repeated. “Stepdaughter, actually.”

There was a small pause before McGonagall replied, “Congratulations on your nuptials. I must say this comes as a complete surprise.”

“It was a bit of a revelation to me as well,” Barnaby said.

“How . . .” Professor McGonagall stopped to reconsider her words. “In what way?”

“Turns out that magic recognizes a marriage if you become particularly close to a pony,” Barnaby said.

The professor raised an eyebrow. “How close?”

“Close enough to be husband and wife.”

“Ah,” Professor McGonagall said. “Your files have probably automatically updated, then. I don’t have time to check right now, though. What is the name of our newest student?”

“Berryshine.”

“We shall be expecting Miss Shine to come the start of the next semester, then. You will have to buy her supplies yourself, since the muggle government is only paying for their own citizens.”

“Actually, 'Berryshine' is one word,” Barnaby said. “If she must have a family name, then I suppose Lee will have to do.”

“You adopted her, then?”

“Not yet, but now that you mentioned it, I suppose that would only be proper.”

“I see.” McGonagall turned her attention back to her paperwork. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, Professor. Thank you for your time.”

“You are welcome. I shall see you when the term starts then, Mr. Lee.”





There was no better example of a Chinese fire drill than the scene in Won Hung Lo's. It had started innocuously enough when what appeared to be a mob of pre-teens asked to be seated. Finding no adult among the fourteen, the hostess had insisted that they pay in advance. After the group had perused the menu, a polite girl among them had ordered three tables of the special banquet package and handed the hostess a sheaf of bullseyes. The waitress had raised an eyebrow both at the group's unexpected wealth and their unexpected appetite; they had requested twice the normal amount for a group their size.

The fun had really started when Mr. Lo himself recognized the red bird perched on the shoulder of the polite girl. Eager for the luck that the creature was bound to bring, he had decided to serve them personally. To his dismay, the cook had informed him that the special ingredients needed were still on a slow boat from China. Embarrassed, he had delivered the bad news to the children along with a platter of cold char siu.

To his relief, the girl with the harmony bird had smiled brightly and asked him to simply do his best. He could have sworn that the red headed twins had nearly bitten the bird's head off when they inhaled the peace offering. It was then that he had noticed that three of the girls had unusually vibrant hair. The pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place; these customers were the special ones that had been dominating the airwaves. He had realized that the simple request had been a challenge; he had sworn he would prove himself worthy of their custom.

What had followed was a parade of dishes worthy of an emperor. It had truly been a wonder to watch the group enjoying their meal. To be more accurate, a dozen children had been competing for scraps while the red headed twins inhaled everything he had brought to the table. Two things had become patently obvious. First, there had been good reason for the double-sized order. Second, he would have to break from tradition and serve the dozen a little something individually, lest they starve.

The situation had gone to pot when a white owl had flown in from nowhere.

“Hedwig.” Harry had said, abandoning his attempts to skewer his noodles with his chopsticks. “No letter, I see. You must be here for something to eat. Sorry, no bacon, but you have got to try the shitake mushroom with oyster sauce.”

“Bark!” Hedwig had reprimanded.

“I think she has somebody in her pouch,” Parvati had said.

“Ron, leave some of that for the rest of us,” Hermione had ordered.

“Mmmft?”

“That was not an invite for you to finish off the platter, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo had scolded.

“Just a sec, I’ll check,” Harry had said, placing his wand on Hedwig’s pouch. “Ex dimittere.”

The noisy restaurant had gone dead silent as the ultimate gastronomic criticism had rattled the doors and windows. The other patrons had gathered around in morbid curiosity. Mr. Lo waded through the crowd carrying a stack of towels.

Disgust transformed into wonder when, instead of the expected mess, two figures from myth and legend appeared. The first was a proud white unicorn stallion with blue mane and tail. The second was a pink, winged unicorn mare. Both were clad in crystal barding, sparkling like diamonds.

“Are you foals all right?” Shining demanded as Cadance levitated a medallion and touched it with her horn.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Sweetie asked innocently.

In a flash of light, the crowd was moved away from the table as if by unseen hands. Four ponies appeared in the space they had vacated. Twilight stood with horn glowing menacingly as she scanned for threats. Rarity was at the opposite side of the perimeter, clad in silver chainmail whose elegance stood in stark contrast to the lethality of the artfully arranged assortment of silver maces, daggers and swords that danced around in her levitation field. At another point on the compass, Applejack stood, twirling a simple lasso over her head. On the perimeter opposite her, Rainbow hovered, posing dramatically with her weapon of choice.

“Hey, that’s my net caster!” Dean told Rainbow.

“We’re going to need two more orders,” Luna Lovegood said to Mr. Lo.

The crowd was pushed even further away when a peal of thunder reverberated in the room. Robe-clad adults appeared, with most brandishing wands.

"Better make it four," Ron added. "We'll need another table, too. Can you bring more stuffed crab claws while you're at it?"

“I swear, you'd better share those,” Lavender threatened. “I haven’t gotten to try one yet.”

“What do you foals think you were doing?” Rarity roared as her weapons danced a graceful ballet. “Picking fights with werewolves!”

“It was only one,” Neville corrected.

“And that was over an hour ago,” Sweetie added.

“You didn’t leave one for us?”

“Rainbow!” Emma exclaimed.

“I’m just saying. We got all worked up. The least they could have done is let us have some fun.”

“Y’all are so grounded.” Applejack said around her lasso.

“Of all of the irresponsible stunts you could have possibly pulled!” Andi shrieked.

“Are you going to stop eating while they yell at us?” Seamus asked Apple Bloom.

After swallowing, Apple Bloom said. “Nah, they might decide ta send us ta bed without supper.”

“You’ve already had enough for a decent supper,” Hermione deadpanned.

From around a mouthful of longevity noodles, Ron said, "Nah, this is just a light snack."

Abigail grumbled, "Now you know how we feel."

“Situation normal,” Shining said, addressing Cadance. “Mind sending the all clear to our reserves?” Cadance nodded and touched the medallion with her horn a second time. She and Shining jumped, startled, when a sound of thunder erupted.

“Bill!” Ginny leapt from her seat to greet one of the newest arrivals only to halt as the assault began.

A fiery redhead stormed forward. “WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?! YOU WENT AFTER GREYBACK! THE NASTIEST WEREWOLF TO EVER LIVE!” Molly Weasley had arrived.

“You know,” Applejack whispered to Rarity. “Ah was getting ready to lay into the foals, but Ah think Ah’ll jus’ let her handle this.”

“She is rather good,” Rarity agreed.

“DEAN’S GRANDFATHER HAD A HEART ATTACK WHEN HE SAW YOU ON THE TELLY! HIS HEART ACTUALLY STOPPED!! YOU ARE LUCKY THAT TWILIGHT HAD A POTION HANDY TO SAVE HIM!”

Elisa shot Twilight a questioning look.

Twilight shrugged. “I got it from the knight bus. That thing is a nightmare.”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M SAYING THIS BUT THE TWINS ARE CAUSING LESS WORRY THAN YOU THIS YEAR! THEY ARE ACTUALLY STAYING OUT OF TROUBLE!”





George looked over the snowy eaves of the farmhouse and counted. “There are only six of them. Minor is missing.”

“You do know that unicorns aren’t supposed to be that good at climbing?” Open Secret called up from below.

Fred looked over the edge as well. “Maybe we should have stayed in the trunk, boring or not.”

George answered. “Well, we are definitely not bored now.”

“Come down here and we’ll make sure your even less bored.” Sad Smile offered.

“I say we burn that book when we get back.” Fred suggested.

“Which book is that?” Minor asked from behind them, hovering on a broom.

“Yipe!” the twins called out in stereo as they leapt forward into a perfectly synchronized reverse flying one and a half somersault free, with negative points for style and execution. A sextet of eager earth pony fillies proved to be much more forgiving than the frozen, hard-packed ground.





“CHILDREN YOUR AGE SHOULDN’T EVEN BE THINKING ABOUT PUTTING THEMSELVES IN SO MUCH DANGER! THERE ARE PLENTY OF ADULTS WHOSE JOB IT IS TO CAPTURE DANGEROUS CREATURES!”

Remus waved down a waitress. “Could you bring us all some sake? We’ve had a right proper scare and I dare say some of us are going to need a bottle or two.”

The waitress frowned. "No sake. Have my jow -- Chinese, better than sake."

Sirius added, "Can you also bring something stronger?"

The waitress nodded. "Two bottle my jow, two shot oom lang yick."





“I’m back,” Barnaby said unnecessarily after the owl’s pouch regurgitated him.

“Welcome back,” Carrot called back. “Did you get the potions you were after?”

“They would only let me buy seven.” Barnaby sighed. “They said too many in a short time could be harmful.”

“So . . . bedroom?” Berry Punch asked.

“Not quite yet.” Barnaby shook his head. “I need to take Berryshine shopping to get her school supplies.”

“She doesn’t need anything else,” Cheerilee countered.

“I just found out that they are having open enrollment for Hogwarts,” Barnaby said. “When I go back, after winter break, Berryshine is coming with.”

“She is?” Berry Punch narrowed her eyes.

“With your permission,” Barnaby hastily added. "They will teach her the magic that I have been learning."

“Wait,” Carrot said. “You’re planning on going back to school?”

“Of course,” Barnaby replied. “Why wouldn’t I? It is my last semester.”

“You don’t think we can’t support you between the three of us?” Carrot asked, hurt.

“Huh?” Barnaby asked intelligently.

“What she’s saying is that there are sure to be a lot of foals in our future,” Cheerilee said diplomatically. “You don’t need a job; we’ll bring in enough for everypony.”

“While we’re not rich, there is a substantial amount in the Lee family vault,” Barnaby said. “Money really isn’t a major worry, but I don't want to abandon my education.”

“It is our responsibility to see to your needs,” Cheerilee stated. “But I can understand that you want to finish what you started. It’s just that we don’t want to have to wait months to see you.”

“I’m an adult; I can leave campus whenever I like. I just have to be there for classes,” Barnaby said. “As her father, I can even bring Berryshine home for the weekends.”

“But,” Carrot started.

“Okay,” Berry Punch interrupted. “It is a blow to our egos, but we need to remember that humans act differently than ponies. We don’t like it, but we need to take the good with the bad.”

“But.” Carrot tried again.

Cheerilee sighed. “You’re right. As much as I hate to say it, it wouldn’t be fair to have him drop out just as he’s about to finish his schooling.”

“But,” Carrot interjected.

“And there is the added bonus of him looking after Berryshine,” Berry Punch thoughtfully added. “That is, if she wants to go.”

“But.”

“We need to compromise here, Carrot,” Cheerilee said. “Our stallion wants to complete his schooling, and it’s not too much to ask.”

“But.”

Barnaby said, "I want our daughter to have the best of both worlds."

“All right.” Carrot relented.

“Let me go find Berryshine; then, we can all go shopping together.” Berry Punch said.





“. . . FOOLISHNESS I’VE NEVER DREAMED I WOULD HAVE TO DEAL WITH!”

“Thank you,” Sirius told Mr. Lo who had brought another round of oom lang yick with my jow chasers. “When we’re done here, just let me know how much business you’ve lost, and I’ll reimburse you.”

“You are too kind,” Mr. Lo said. “I have to ask though, is she using magic? How long can she keep this up?”

“It’s a natural talent,” Mr. Weasley said. “We may be here a while though; I’ve never seen her this angry before.”

“These stuffed crab claws are great.” Rainbow said. “We’ll take another order.”





“Looks like they finally caught your brothers.” Dainty Lace said to Percy after watching the earth pony fillies carry their prizes down the street towards Sugarcube Corner. Two fillies carried each twin tied upside down on a pole slung over their withers.

“They said they were spending the rest of their vacation in their trunk,” Percy said. “I guess they got bored.”

“They’re not bored now,” Gracious Tact said. “I guess that’s a plus.”

“They know better than letting things go too far,” Percy said. “They should be fine.”

“Ah, youth,” Dainty said. “Remember when we were just like them? It seems like it was just yesterday.”

“You mean just last month,” Bristle said. “They are only a year younger than ooooof!” She was cut off when a brown blur collided with her side and bounced off.

“Button Mash, you’re supposed to be practicing in the field,” Dainty scolded.

Button Mash apologized. “Sorry, it got away from me again.”





“. . . WHEREVER DID YOU GET THOSE WEAPONS! THEY AREN’T TOYS YOU KNOW!”

“Do you think she’ll let us have a turn?” Mrs. Thomas asked.

“Do you really need a turn after this?” Ted asked.

“YES!” said every woman in the restaurant, including the waitress.





In the moderately-sized soundstage, the host looked into the camera, smiling. “And next, the guest you have all been waiting for. I am proud to say this is her first personal appearance on any show. Please welcome Lyra Heartstrings, the pony ambassador.”

A lithe woman wearing her short teal and white hair in a shaggy bob cut walked on stage waving energetically at the audience who, in turn, applauded and sent wolf whistles her way. The pantsuit that she wore exuded both the gravitas of her office and the sensuality of her form. Its colors subtly shifted between shades of gray and pastel teal as she moved, drawing attention to every curve. The host left his position behind his desk to administer a welcoming hug before ushering the new celebrity to her chair.

“I must confess,” The host said, taking his own seat behind the desk. “I find that I am somewhat disappointed that you chose to come in your human form. I think everyone was looking forward to seeing you as a pony.”

“That’s easy enough to fix,” Lyra said, her form melting as she satisfied the crowd’s curiosity. “Tada!”

The audience roared in approval.

“Talk about a wonder to behold.” The host smiled as he saw his ratings skyrocket. “I saw it and I’m still having a hard time believing it.”

“It does take some getting used to,” Lyra admitted.

“I can only imagine,” the host said. “Where to begin? Here I have a visitor from another dimension and I have so many questions I hardly know where to start.” He paused before saying. “Let’s talk about the incident that just occurred in Marlborough. Several young ponies ambushed and captured a werewolf, of all things. What can you tell us about that? Did they need a hunting license? Were any of them seriously hurt? Who was the little girl with them?”

Lyra frowned. “Those were the Cutie Mark Crusaders. My son is one of them. To be honest, I almost called off this little talk when I heard the news, but Bon Bon talked me into coming anyway. I’m afraid I don’t have any current news, but responsible ponies are with them to deal with any injuries.”

“You almost called off your appearance? I take it that werewolf hunting isn’t a common pastime for pony kids?”

"Kids are young goats, and no, we ponies teach our children to stay away from dangerous animals," Lyra said bitterly. “I have no idea what they were thinking, but I plan to find out.”

“It’s good to hear that this is not something you encourage.”

Lyra sighed. " You can bet your last bit that anything you hear them doing is something abnormal. They are children, very curious, very intelligent children with an underdeveloped sense of danger. Rest assured, their parents and guardians are doing their utmost to instill more sense into them."





“… YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THAT WOULD HAVE DONE TO YOUR PARENTS!”

“This is beef? Isn’t it?” Bon Bon pushed away the offered platter. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick with the pork, duck, chicken, and fish. I don’t care how good it tastes.”

“You do know the cows here aren’t sapient,” Twilight said.

“I don’t care,” Bon Bon affirmed. “I have to look Jessibelle in the eye when she comes in to buy her weekly treats.”





Despite having his muzzle taped shut, Fenrir managed an eerie howl with every strip of tape that was ripped from his body. The adhesive took more fur than it left behind, making it look like he was suffering from a case of severe mange coupled with alopecia.

Amelia gritted her teeth and said, “I suppose I should read off the list of crimes we are holding you for, but somehow, I don’t think you’ll be paying me much mind. Your case file is a quire thick just for the murders. It’s due time for you to pay the piper.”

Another strip of tape was removed, causing the wolf to flop painfully on the examination table.

“Can he understand you in that form?” the healer asked. “For that matter, how is he transformed? The moon is nowhere near full.”

“That’s one of the questions I plan to ask him once I can get some veritaserum down his throat,” Amelia stated, tapping a thick folder she was holding. “Though, all things considered, it would be best if I hold off confronting him with all these charges.

The auror reached for another segment to yank. “He sure is an ugly git, under all this tape. Don’t you think?”

Amelia admonished. “There is no call to be unprofessional.”

The wolf in the room made a whining sound.

“Did he just say ‘whale’?” Amelia asked.

“He’s a wolf. I don’t think he’s capable of saying that, especially with his mouth taped shut,” the healer said. When questioned later, he would swear that the wolf did not laugh.

The wolf looked at Amelia and repeated the sound.

The auror cocked his head. "I think he's commenting on your marital status." He, too, would swear the wolf did not laugh.

The wolf looked at Amelia and repeated the sound, but more slowly, as if enunciating.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Amelia said. “Your arm has got to be getting tired. I can pull off a few strips while you rest.”





“. . . YOU HAVE ALL BEEN RAISED BETTER THAN THIS! DON’T YOU STOP TO THINK BEFORE YOU ACT!”

“You might want to rein her in, Arthur.” Remus suggested. “We did want to take the children to be checked by a healer just to be on the safe side, and we'll have to deal with the graveyard shift before long.”

Applejack disagreed. “Ah’d think it would be more prudent like to let her get this off her chest.”

“Someone cast some stinging hexes. It looks like some of the children are starting to drift off. That will only make her madder,” Elisa advised.





The door to Sugarcube Corner opened. Everypony saw red as a familiar stallion entered.

“Hiya Big Mac!” Pinkie called from behind the counter.

“Howdy,” Big Mac said as he crossed the shop and closed in on a cluster of smaller ponies. Almost lazily, he lowered his head and grabbed two tails in his mouth. “Say goodnight,” he said as he lifted two young unicorns out of reach of their admirers.

“Looks like it’s time to go,” Fred said to the gathered fillies.

“Thanks for all of the sweets and your sweet company,” George added.

“Bye, Fred. Bye George,” Dull Roar said.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Soft Rock asked.

“We really like you,” Icy Hot added.

“And we’re still holding out for snuggles,” Minor Miracle informed them.

“Bye,” Big Mac said as he trotted out of the bakery with two colts dangling from his mouth.

There were a couple minutes of silence before Fred spoke up. “Girl ponies are aggressive.”

“How is it you’re not married yet?” George asked.

Big Mac chuckled.

A few more minutes went by in silence.

“You can let us down now,” George said.





“. . . ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES! I NEVER WANT TO HEAR OF YOU THINKING OF PULLING ANOTHER STUNT LIKE . . .”

“Okay, color me impressed,” Andi said.

“Meh, she started repeating herself about an hour ago,” Rainbow countered.

“We really need to cut this short; I think they want to close the restaurant,” Sirius observed.

"Are you sure she's all right?" asked Dan. "It looks like she might blow a blood vessel."

"She'll be fine," replied Arthur. "At worst, she'll be a little hoarse."
> Chapter 89: Best Laid Plans
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At this depth, the ground felt as though it had a soul of ice. The occupants of the subterranean room, however, knew that the planet had a heart of fire. Many generations earlier, their forebears had learned to leech off the heat. The room's rich tapestries and plush carpeting, when coupled with its comfortable warmth, were almost enough to make one forget just how far beneath the surface the room was.

Seven leaders from around the world, each representing a goblin capital, stood in a ragged circle and conversed as equals.

"They are ignorant of the dominion they have over our kind," said the overseer of Gringotts. "They do not show the aggression or greed of a worthy goblin lord. They seem more than content with the pittance we have provided them. Their orders have been benign in nature with little or no impact on how we conduct ourselves."

The leader from Oceana snorted, "Their mere existence is an insult! The last goblin lord at least made an attempt to be a proper goblin."

"How did such weaklings amass such power?" demanded the leader from Kilimanjaro harshly.

“That is unascertained,” the Overseer said. “Neither is the type to covet the power they possess, let alone seek it out. However, it would be unwise to label the younger as a weakling. The whelp, nowhere near full growth, has recently joined in battle against a werewolf. A strike team was nearby to assist, but she and her allies triumphed without support.”

“No honor was shared with the warriors?” the leader from the Andes asked. "Was this some pup that she overpowered?"

Shaking his head, the Overseer replied, "This was as dangerous as they get. Our strike teams managed to keep it contained, but they could not capture or kill it."

Grudgingly, the leader from the Andes replied, “She may yet prove worthy of her position.”

“We will accept nothing less,” said the leader from Appalachia.

“You speak as if we have a choice,” said the leader from the Orient, easily the largest in the room despite being stooped with age. His white eyes were unseeing yet, somehow, they missed nothing. “We cannot even keep them ignorant, if they but ask.”

Hopelessness saturated the chamber. The attendees each contemplated the import of those words. There could have been bickering. There could have been criticism, swearing or accusations. There could have been a knock-down, drag-out battle. There could have been any act in reaction. There would have been no difference.

Those gathered showed enough wisdom to avoid any rash action.

Those gathered stood helpless in the face of the inevitable.





Any pretense of a winter wonderland was shattered after just one glimpse of the churned ground. The snow was no longer a pristine white blanket. Roughshod hooves scraped out a dirty brown line while clattering pawls marked a funeral cadence. In their wake, a trail of gritty slush marked their passage. Only a hard freeze prevented the ugly scar on the mountain from turning to mud.

Applejack confidently cantered through the grimy slush as she made her way up the switchback with a large boulder balanced on her back. Humming cheerfully, she approached the lead wagon, which seemed to be oozing rather than rolling. With a slight grunt, the farm mare sent the rock to enjoy the ride with its brothers.

“Not another boulder,” Ron whined.

“Y'all should have thought of that before picking fights,” Applejack said, making her way to the front of the wagon to check on the four earth pony foals laboring in their harnesses. “Y'all might want to save yer breath fer the pulling.” Smirking, she said, "When the thaw comes, y'all will help put the dam together."

Lavender spat, "Nemo me impune lacessit."

"Say what?" said Applejack.

"No one hurts my herd and gets away with it. I still say it was worth it," replied Lavender as she took the extra weight without complaint. Neville grunted in agreement while Apple Bloom held her tongue.

Silently, Applejack sighed. The filly had just confirmed what her new cutie mark declared to the world; there was little she wouldn't do to protect those she considered to be under her care. Instead of arguing with the stubborn filly, Applejack turned her attention to the wagon's twin, which lagged noticeably. The unicorn foals struggled with a much lighter load, but their expressions were no less defiant than those of the ponies bearing the heavier burden.

Shaking her head, Applejack looked up and checked the airborne wagon being drawn by six winged foals. Hopefully, the charms to keep the boulders seated there were as foolproof as Remus Lupin insisted. Briefly, she considered adding a couple boulders to all three, but decided that the axles would break long before their spirits. Worse, she was positive that the foals were all aware of just how much danger they had put themselves in and that they would do it again without any hesitation if they deemed it necessary.

A lesson was being taught; sadly, it wasn’t the lesson intended.





The locals often joked that Mellow Yolk was the local egg breaker. In truth, she was far more than a mere broker. Her job was important, if not particularly glamorous. Most ponies suspected that she was part bat pony since her day started at the Demon's Hour. In a remarkably short time, she would visit each farm and household on her supplier list. At each location, she silently and swiftly collected all the eggs from the hens. She would then take those eggs to a drop box, where she would leave both the number of eggs requested on a note inside and payment for the balance, less her fee.

It was rare for her to find another pony awake at that hour, let alone one of her suppliers. In fact, she hadn't even had a word with Fluttershy in two years, despite the fact that the Element Bearer's coop was one of her most productive stops.

Earth pony magic kept the birds laying year-round, even during the short winter days. Thus, she always had enough stock to supply the local businesses, such as Barnyard Bargains and Sugarcube Corner. Despite their voracious appetites, she would generally be left with a gross or so that she would sell from her pushcart in the market square. Usually, her workday ended before most ponies started their shifts.

Sometimes, however, her harvest was large enough and the traffic slow enough that she would still be peddling her wares into the noon hour. This was just such a day. Mellow brightened when she saw an unfamiliar green earth pony stallion swaggering toward her. On further reflection, she decided that 'staggering' was more accurate. His gait was a cross between the tentative steps of a newborn and the loopy dance of somepony in the midst of their first firewhisky experience.

Mellow Yolk smiled welcomingly. “Good morning. Here to buy my last two dozen eggs of the day, I hope.”

The stallion gave a splendid smile in return. “Yes ma’am. We’ve got a gathering happening over at the Apple farm, and the cooks have found themselves short on eggs.”

“Oh?” Mellow frowned slightly. If this stallion did come from the farm, she’d be obligated to sell the eggs at cost. “I was there earlier, and their note didn’t ask for extra eggs to be left.”

The stallion brightened slightly at those words. “You are Mellow Yolk then. Granny told me to tell you that it was unexpected, and she would leave you a fresh apple pie for your trouble.”

Mellow's smile returned; such an offering was well worth the loss of profit. “So, you’re an Apple then?” she asked, producing a wicker basket for the stallion to carry the eggs since he wasn’t wearing saddle bags.

“No ma’am.” The stallion shook his head. “I’m a Weasley.”

Mellow paused in her work. “A Weasley? Like those twins Dull Roar and her friends have been going on about?”

“Fred and George?” the stallion asked. “If so, yes, those two are my younger brothers.”

Mellow abandoned any pretense of packing the remaining eggs. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Bill Weasley, pleased to meet you.”

“You’re a human then?” said a mare who had been walking by.

“Why, yes I am.” Bill Weasley answered the unanticipated addition to the conversation.

“I’ve heard good things about human stallions,” the mare from the next stall over commented.

“Oh? Really?” Bill Weasley asked.

“Yes!” came the seductive drawl from every mare in earshot.





In the Sleepy Saguaro Sanatorium, two ponies looked up at their patient with no small amount of worry.

A tawny mare with an airy voice asked, “Are you feeling any discomfort?”

“Dearie,” said the patient as she studied her new two-legged form. “When you get to be my age, it’s just one discomfort after the other. This ain’t nothing I can’t handle.” She sighed. "I kinda wish teeth came with the transformation."

“I’d like to go over the risks one more time,” said a mustard-colored mare in a firmer voice.

The old ex-mare laughed until she started to cough. After regaining her composure, she said. “This here is a hospice. We all know why I’m here. ‘Risk’ has lost any meaning.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the tawny mare asked, making a last confirmation.

“Sure and eager. After all these years, if I survive, I'll have the memory of a lifetime. If not, I'll go in a blaze of glory."

“Okay then.” The mustard mare came over to help the ancient female walk. “Let me take you to his room and introduce you.”

“Thank you, dearie; I can hardly wait.”

The mustard-colored mare rapped sharply on the door and called out, "Peter! I have your next appointment!"

A resigned groan came from the other side of the door as it slowly opened. "I really need a day off."

'"You're an incubus. You know there's no rest for the wicked."

"But . . ."

"No 'buts'. We agreed to hide you from the hunters, and you agreed to provide service with a smile. Don't make me use the necklace."

With a forced smile, Peter opened the door and led the patient in. The mustard-colored mare jumped when the door was slammed in her face.

The tawny mare sighed. A new voice said, "Is something wrong?"

The mare almost jumped out of her skin. After collecting herself, she replied, "No, not really."

“Something has you worried.”

“It’s just that sooner or later somepony is going to come asking why half our filed certificates have hyperpareunia as cause of death.”





On the outskirts of the earth pony town of Ponyville, a somewhat unusual procession made its way toward the ugly brown scar that marked the switchback. In terms of calories, 76,000 led the small parade, with two unicorns trailing, line abreast. The food was held in a reunion-sized wicker picnic basket, held aloft in a magenta aura. Spying their objective, Twilight and Emma called out a greeting as they rapidly gained on Applejack and the three slow-moving wagons.

“Howdy, Twilight, Emma,” Applejack returned. “Just in time with them thar vittles. Tha foals need to keep thar strength up fer the other half of the mountain.”

“We got that covered,” Twilight said, producing a scroll seemingly from nowhere. “Granny and Molly made every item on the checklist. Those two are a sight to see in the kitchen; Dinner is going to be a meal to remember. In the meantime, the foals can enjoy a midday meal prepared with love.” Then, somewhat more softly than the Royal Canterlot Voice, she said, “Okay, everypony, unhitch yourselves! It’s time to eat!”

“Cutie Mark Crusader Food Critics!” Seamus declared, freeing himself.

“Yay!” came the traditional interjection.

“I can see you have all worked up an appetite,” Emma said as two red-maned foals darted past while the others stayed behind to help everypony else get unhitched. As Twilight spread the blanket that was atop the basket onto the snowy ground and centered the basket on it, Emma continued. "I'm sorry that we have to punish you like this, but you need to understand just how reckless and dangerous that stunt of yours was. That monster could have mauled you, or worse."

“We understand,” Neville said for the herd and left it at that.

“Wait a minute,” Scootaloo said, helping Luna from her harness. “Didn’t we already try for our food critic cutie marks?”

“That was back when there were only three of us,” Sweetie replied. “We might get lucky.”

“I don’t think any of us are that finicky when it comes to eating,” Hermione said, staggering slightly after being relieved of her load.

“A little help here,” Harry pleaded from where he and Abigail had got themselves tangled together.

“How did you manage that?” Ginny asked, gaping at her friends.

“Are you trying for your knot tying cutie mark?” Dean asked dryly. “I watched you do it and I still think it's impossible to do in only three dimensions.”

“I’ve got to say, that takes some talent,” Lavender said, moving to help.

That’s a right Gordian knot,” Emma said, following Twilight to assist.

“That’s my tail!” Abigail admonished when Harry gave a tug.

“Hey! Leave me out of this!” Parvati yelled when she got out of her own tack, only to be ensnared by her fellow flyers.

“I said, that’s my tail!”

“Lift your bum,” Harry commanded. “I need to get this over it.”

“Stop trying to get some tail! I only have the one!” Abigail countered.

“He’s going after mine now.” Parvati grimaced as she felt a tug.

Twilight sighed as she approached the tangled foals. “Let’s do this the easy way.” There was a flash of magenta light, and the trio tumbled away from each other as their impromptu bindings materialized on the other side of the cart.

“It didn’t take y'all no time to get yerselves into bind,” Applejack commented. “Now that yer done playing around, it’s time to eat.”

Ron pulled his head from the picnic basket and swallowed. “We’re going to need more food.” He then plunged his head back into the side of the picnic basket which he had claimed.

Apple Bloom pulled her head out of the other side to comment. “Yeah, there ain’t much left.” With piranha-like voracity, she returned to her meal.

The remaining ponies watched two red tails point toward the sky as the basket's payload was swiftly metabolized.

“You two are becoming worse than Sweetie with a meat-covered pizza,” Parvati called out.

“Is that normal?” Emma asked, mouth agape.

“Nope.” Applejack shook her head. “Normal would be Apple Bloom helping her friends before thinking of filling her belly. An’ she’s been taught ta share.”

“That was beyond rude,” Scootaloo said. “It’s not like her.”

“They were just as bad at supper last night,” Hermione added.

“So . . .” Emma said. “Tapeworms?”

“Tapeworms?” Twilight snorted. “There was enough food in there for fourteen hungry foals and three adults.”

“Hungry tapeworms?” Applejack suggested.

“With leftovers,” Twilight added.

“So . . .” Emma said. “Magical tapeworms?”

“Mighty hungry magical tapeworms,” Applejack said.

“That would explain the famished parasprite impressions,” Sweetie said.

Applejack shuddered. “Granny is goin’ ta be mighty upset if’n they start belching up great grandfoals.”

“Well, I see a thorough exam in their immediate future,” Emma said.

“Ah kin see the wisdom in that.” Applejack trotted forward to seize Apple Bloom’s tail in her mouth. “Grab Ron an’ Ah’ll show ya tha way to the hospital.”

“Twilight, could you take the rest of the foals back to the farm for something to eat? I’ll help Applejack,” Emma said before gingerly taking Ron’s tail in a similar manner.

I’m on it,” Twilight said. “Scootaloo, fly ahead and ask Big Mac for a couple bushels of apples. We’ll go to the orchard and set up a campfire. That way we can have some roasted apples and not bother the cooks in the kitchen.”

“I’m hungry, and that sounds like a lot of work,” Abigail said. “We could just hit a restaurant in town.”

“Nah, it’ll be fun and I’ll teach you all a spell for lighting campfires.” Twilight said, herding the remaining foals back toward the farm.

"I can hardly wait," said Seamus. The other Crusaders carefully backed away from him.





A quartet of would-be gourmets wandered into the farmhouse's kitchen. Under ordinary circumstances, the three who walked in on two legs would have had the best perspective, but the fourth hovered above them, taking in all the sights and smells.

Without looking up from the bowl where she was stirring some batter, Pinkie Pie called out from around the handle of her whisk, “There are some cookies on the counter to tide you over.”

“Thanks Pinkie,” Rainbow said, making a beeline for the proffered treats. “I know we decided to cancel the surprise party for the humans' Hearthwarming Day, but I’m glad we’re not stopping all of the festivities.”

“This was spontaneous,” Arthur said. “but welcome. It is a pity that the children’s actions have caused us to abandon our original plans.”

“They did ruin the surprise factor,” Sirius said, reaching for a cookie of his own. “Now they know you and your wife are back in the country.”

“Speaking of wives,” Arthur said. “Molly, I know that smug look. You’re up to something.”

“Smug look?” Molly said, waving her wand and muttering under her breath to direct her knife to coarsely chop ten pounds of carrots. “It must be your imagination. I’m just helping with the cooking while I fish for grandchildren.”

“That doesn’t sound mischievous or anything,” Dan said. “How exactly does one fish for grandchildren?”

As if on cue, the back door opened and a green stallion rushed in, carrying a wicker basket. After putting it down, he declared, “I’ve figured out how to run in this form.”

“Did you get the eggs dear?” Molly asked, wandering over to inspect the basket.

“I’m lucky that’s all I got,” Bill said. “I almost got the eggs' seller with them.

“Mellow Yolk is a good respectable mare,” Granny Smith said. “Right reliable, that one.”

“Or the spice seller,” Bill continued. “Or the mare walking by with the white bags. Or the waitress from the café. Or half the ladies within earshot.”

“You’re using the wrong word,” Sirius insisted. “Replace ‘or’ with ‘and’.”

“You’re old enough to start thinking of settling down,” Molly said, removing the eggs from the basket with another wave of her wand. “Get a nice safe job at the Ministry and raise a family.”

“I am perfectly happy with the job I have,” Bill said. “I refuse to work at the Ministry.”

Molly frowned. “What you do is too dangerous, and you never are home. Now, we’re running low on yeast, so I’m going to send you back to the market.”

“What?” Bill squeaked. “I just got propositioned by a dozen mares, five cows, two stallions, and a goat. Send Charlie instead.”

“I’ve already sent him out to look for the twins. He has always been good at keeping those two out of trouble,” Molly said.





Open Secret looked up at the roof of the town hall and called out, “You do know that earth ponies aren’t supposed to be that good at climbing, either.”

A stallion who was quite obviously Fred's older brother looked out over the edge and said, “You two have been having an eventful break, haven’t you?”

“Eh, nothing to write home over,” George said.

“You do know I’m old enough to be your father,” Charlie called down to the gathered fillies.

“Well, then, my heart belongs to daddy,” Sad Smile called back.

“Wait.” Random Order said. “You’re like only four years older than us. Can human’s really have children that young?”

“I think he’s just exaggerating.” Icy Hot said.

“You do know it’s only a matter of time before Minor shows up on a broom,” Fred warned, looking over his shoulder.





“Y'all got that?” Granny said. “Rapid Rise is the mare you’re looking fer.”

“Pony names are starting to scare me,” Bill grumbled as he closed the back door behind himself.

“You do know there is another container of yeast on the shelf back there,” Pinkie said.

“There is?” Molly asked innocently. “I didn’t realize.”

“At least you’re using the right bait,” Rainbow said, reaching for another cookie. “All you need is to tie a bow around him in keeping with the season.”

“Diamond Tiara has already done that,” Pinkie argued. “You need to be more original. Slather him in frosting and hang a sign around his neck saying ‘yummy’.”

“How is that original?” Sirius asked. “Andi tells me they are still talking about your visit to St. Mungo's.”

“Why you’re at it, why don’t you chain an iron ball to his leg so he can’t run?” Arthur said. “Molly, I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“I’m not doing anything dear,” Molly said. “It’s not my fault if he makes a special friend or three while shopping. If he meets someone who can take his mind off curse breaking, well, so much the better.”

“Besides, y'all don’t want to hamper his running. The best daughter-in-laws are the ones who can catch a healthy stallion,” Granny opined.

The front door announced a new arrival, and Twilight soon joined the gathering in the kitchen. Sirius took one look at his wife and gasped. “What happened to you?”

Twilight stood there with her right side blackened and burnt. The stench of scorched fur wafted from her. “We're going to go with the classic good news, bad news model here,” she said.

“What’s the good news?” Rainbow prompted.

“Dean Thomas just got his cutie mark. He’s going to be able to have a joint cutcenera with Lavender,” Twilight said.

“And the bad?” Granny asked.

“You're going to have to replace twenty-seven trees in the orchard. There is no way they’ll be bearing anymore fruit,” Twilight said. “We’re changing the punishment. Big Mac has the foals helping him collect the charcoal and removing the stumps and roots.”

“Were any of the children hurt?” Molly asked worriedly.

“They were all standing behind him,” Twilight said. “I’m the only pony who got caught.” She paused to consider her next words. “It’s amazing how fast you can move when you see a ball of fire headed your way. If I didn't know Merry Monsoon's Concentrated Cloudburst, the entire south orchard would be burning.”

“So, they are all right?” Dan said with relief.

“They are all happily celebrating the new cutie mark. Except for Seamus Finnigan, he’s really upset it wasn’t him who got the fire-based cutie mark.”

“Oh?”  Asked Sirius.

“He said something about trying for his explosions cutie mark. It would be a good idea to keep an eye on him.” Twilight insisted.

There was a moment’s silence then Owlowiscious flew into the kitchen. Perching on the back of a chair, he fixed his worried gaze on Twilight.

“Well, here’s my ride. I’m going to mail myself to Andi and get some burn cream,” Twilight said. “We’ll be back in time for supper.”





Albus Dumbledore was not a happy man. The day had been an unmitigated disaster. The new Minister did not regard him with the same reverence that Fudge had lavished. It didn't take an empath to notice the disdain that Lovegood projected during each visit. Clearly, the ponies were a bad influence; he still could not fathom why they held him in such low regard. Minister Lovegood seemed determined to strip him of his accumulated powers; he had unequivocally delineated the duties expected of the headmaster of Hogwarts, the Supreme Mugwump, and the Chief Warlock. He had tried to convince Dumbledore that any one of those positions would be almost too much for one man to handle. He had all but promised that he would put forth a resolution at the next Wizengamot meeting to codify the changes.

It seemed that with every turn, the reins of his power frayed a bit more. It did not take a clairvoyant to see that the plans that he had so carefully groomed over the decades were now on a one-way trip on the handbasket express. Still, all was not yet lost. He still had the freedom to act before he was left with Hobson's choice. He just had to strategize how to accomplish his goals with less than a third of his original resources.

If he were being honest, he would admit that he had already lost control of the school. His once-loyal friend, Minerva. seemed to be thwarting his every move, all in the name of advancing education. The changes she was making would make the once-proud institution completely unrecognizable. If he were to keep his post as headmaster, he would be little more than a figurehead. The newly-formed board of governors seemed determined to assert their independence; those who met with him did so with great reluctance. They all but declared that he was a problem to be removed. He had no doubt that the next generation of magic users, bereft of his guidance, would be doomed to mediocrity. His relationship with the boy-who-lived was almost assuredly unsalvageable.

How could something so simple have gone so horribly wrong? His muggle puppet had no right signing away her responsibility like that. Why would a foreign witch agree to adopt a complete stranger, sight unseen? How could anyone have uncovered a secret known only to him? Dumbledore wasn't convinced that even with all the time in the world, he could groom his designated martyr to lay down his life for the greater good.

His position as Chief Warlock was almost as tenuous as his post as headmaster. By itself, the loss of the Potter proxy could have been overcome. The Rutter woman, however, had obliterated the status quo with the zeal of a crusader. She had stuffed the chambers with her cronies. Freeing the felon Black had denied Dumbledore control of that seat in addition to the Potter proxy. The former inmate was now literally running the asylum in all but name. All Albus could do was to try to stem the tide. However, change was coming so swiftly that the wizarding world was doomed to descend into madness.

The only post with even a hint of its former glory was Chief Mugwump. There, at least, he had some influence in both domestic and international affairs. However, with the collapse of the Statute, the extent of his power was less than certain. The muggle governments were already integrating their magical brethren into an abomination of muggle and magical. No longer could the International Confederation of Wizards stand on its own; without the shield of secrecy to protect it, the body would have to cooperate with the muggles or be forced into irrelevance.

Only one outcome was certain. Dumbledore's clout and importance would be a mere shadow of itself after the next meeting of the Wizengamot.

Lamenting his fortune, England's most powerful wizard entered his office at the Ministry to develop a strategy to exploit his quickly-dwindling power and to adapt to the new reality. The only saving grace was that the day could not possibly get any worse.

For the second time in recent memory, Dumbledore found the space already occupied. A blond witch was perched on the arm of a visitor's chair. She seemed to be in the guise of a squire; the coat of arms she displayed was a single black spade.

“Hello young lady.” Dumbledore said as he surreptitiously reached for the backup wand hidden in his sleeve. “I don’t believe we’ve met. How may I help you?”

The witch gave a predatory smile. “Hello Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” she said silkily. “My name is OB. My queen sends her greetings.”
> Chapter 90: A Constructive Cluster of Conversations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was a killer. He would be the first to admit it. Under the same circumstances, he would not hesitate to do it again.

He would argue that his actions were justified. He railed at the injustice of his circumstances. He did not deserve to be incarcerated. Even his gaoler admitted as much. Circumstances left them with few options. Even if he dared to step out of his cell, he would have no idea where to go. He had no idea where he was.

To make matters worse, escape would mean sullying himself. Already, one of the impure ones had shown the gall to approach him. Fortunately, a show of displeasure was enough to scare it away. More horrors awaited outside the door; he could smell the peril.

Still, this cloud had its silver lining. The bone-numbing chill of winter was kept at bay, and the food and the water were plentiful. His gaoler tried to spend as much time as he could to keep him company. It was a pity he could not understand what the gaoler was trying to communicate.

Day by day, the situation was getting more desperate. Try as he might, he could not get the gaoler to understand his pain. Surely, there must be some way to let him know that this confinement was driving him mad.

He slumped down to the floor. Concerned, the haggard gaoler nudged him. He ignored the gesture. Once more, the gaoler attempted to impart reassurance. Once more, there was no response. In a flash of flames, the gaoler was gone. He huffed in resignation. He was alone again.

Sometime later, how long, he did not care, there was another burst of flames. Looking up, he blinked in disbelief. Was he seeing double? Were there really two of them? If one were his gaoler, he was looking positively radiant compared with how he looked when he had left. He narrowed his eyes. The one to his left had more delicate features. Had the younger brought his mother? The huang hopped over and trilled at him. He had no better luck understanding her, but at least it broke the monotony. He lifted his head and huffed before settling down again. The feng bounced next to him and gently nuzzled his cheek as the huang vanished in a ball of flames. He brushed his cheek against the gaoler; he understood that the feng had only been trying to help.

He had no idea how long he'd been wallowing in self-pity when the ball of flames appeared. The huang had returned, but this time, she had brought friends, a mare and her foal. Elated, he leapt at the chance to be with his own kind again.

Moments later, a nip to the ear reminded him that he was being entirely too familiar with the mare. He stepped back with an air of contrition. Slowly, so as not to scare her away, he tried to express his thoughts and feelings, but they came out in a jumble. The mare wore an expression of concern as she prodded here and there, trying to guide things along. Finally, there was someone who could understand him.

When he finished, he found everyone staring at him. The mare cocked her head. The question was clear. Why?

He snorted with annoyance. How could he explain something that was so strange? Perhaps he could show instead of tell. He pranced in as large a circle as he could around the cell before going to stand in the middle. Everyone looked at him, confused.

With a hint of impatience, he repeated the maneuver. This time, he stared at the feng and begged for help. The fire bird blinked in confusion.

To the stallion's surprise, the foal made noises like a two-legger. "Did you bring him here, Fawkes?"

The feng nodded and let loose a soft trill.

The stallion stared in amazement as the foal's horn glowed. A piece of chalk rose from the desk and traced the circle he had trod.

The foal turned to the huang and made more noise. "Philomena, can you dance like you did for Myrtle?"

The fire bird pranced around the circle, bobbing and weaving. The stallion and the mare both reared in shock.

"Stop!" The foal looked at the feng. "Did Professor Dumbledore do this?"

Emphatically, the feng shook his head. Hopping to a photograph, the fire bird pecked at one of the figures. It made an effete noise. "Hey! Stop that!"

"Professor Quirrell? I need to tell Professor McGonagall!" The foal moved toward the door.

The stallion gave a whinny and leapt in front of the door. The poor foal had no idea of the dangers that lay beyond. Urgently, he snorted before lying in front of the door. They were all doomed to stay for the rest of their lives. A single tear trickled down his face.

The mare seemed puzzled at his reaction. He explained as best he could. It was hopeless.

The foal made more noise. "Magah, what's wrong with him?"

To his surprise, the mare transformed into a two-legger. The noises she made were strange. "Bad. Home."

The foal babbled. "Poor thing. I bet you live out in the forest somewhere, but I'm not allowed to go by myself."

The mare transformed back and lay her neck against his while the foal leaned against him. He drank in the comfort they provided.

Suddenly, the foal sprang away. "I bet if I got everypony together, we could figure something out. Cutie Mark Crusaders Home Finders are a go!"

There was no discernable reason for the sudden surge of emotion, but there was no denying the spike of terror that tore through the stallion and left its mark on the office floor.

“Hey! Wait a sec! Magah, you just changed without your necklace!”





The barrage of changes had come with such regularity that Draco had come to accept it as part of his daily routine. The cloistered, cushioned egg that had been his world view had not just been cracked; it had been launched through the wall of reality with the force of a hurricane. What little remained of the original might generously be described as scrambled. While he was no stranger to last-minute shopping, the spectacle of a muggle shopping mall was almost enough to make him collapse from sensory overload. The masses were, unfortunately, literally unwashed. He knew he should feel indignant that he, a proud pureblood, should have to stoop so low as to mingle with his inferiors. Instead, he just felt a grudging acceptance. This was far from the most alien thing to happen to him in the last few months.

His shopping companions, Diamond and Silver, should have been mobbed by muggles drawn to the metallic sheen of their hair like moths to a flame. Only the presence of the chaperones kept most of the hordes at bay. Ordinarily, his cousin's pink hair would have drawn a crowd of well-wishers and envious young girls. However, she had elected to invite her new boyfriend along for the outing. His wickedly-pointed beak and razor-sharp claws were enough to convince most to keep their distance. Those who dared approach generally sported sharp points of their own, with metal protruding from places it shouldn't. Draco shuddered at the thought of having his cheeks pierced like that; he'd never sit again.

Nymphadora had insisted that the gryphon was not her boyfriend; he was just a friend she was showing around, a friend who happened to be a boy. Her disavowal lacked the vitriol normally used to decry her own name. Clearly, denial was not a river in Egypt; it was obviously her middle name.

“Are we about done yet?” Tonks had a hint of a whine in her voice. “Your ‘quick bit of shopping’ has taken up all of the morning. I’m ready to grab a bite to eat.”

“I’m starting to get tired of being stared at,” Gordon added. “The ponies in Canterlot were bad enough, but these humans are taking it to a new extreme. I mean, why does everyone call me 'Merv'? I swear, if just one more child climbs on my back demanding a ride . . .”

“At least they aren’t asking you to change form so they can pet you,” Silver grumbled.

“It’s demeaning,” Draco agreed.

“It’s not so bad,” Diamond countered. “At least they recognize greatness.”

“Don’t deceive yourself,” Tonks said. “They just recognize cutesy wootsy fluffy ponies.”

“You’re just being smug because they aren’t bothering you,” Silver said

“Yeah, because you’re wearing your boyfriend like a hedgehog's quills,” Draco said.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Tonks insisted, irritation marring her voice, “and for the record, Gordon is staying close to me, not the other way around. I think all the attention is making him nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!”

“Then why are all of your feathers fluffed up like you’re trying to make yourself look bigger?” Tonks asked.

“I thought he was just trying to make himself look cuter,” Silver said.

“As if,” Gordon huffed. “And for the record, ‘boyfriend’ is the wrong word. It makes me sound like a human child.”

“What’s the right word then?” Draco inquired.

“Isn't it obvious?" asked Gordon as he mantled his wings. "Cockfriend.”

Barely-concealed snickers could be heard in the background.

“. . . Um, yeah,” Nymphadora said. “Do us all a favor and never utter that term again.”

“Of course, I’ve already told you that griffins aren’t into herds, so you don't have to worry about that."

Draco asked, "Just out of curiosity, if she were your type, what would that make her? Henfriend?"

Gordon fluffed the tuft of his tail. "Pussyfriend."

This time, the snickers were not so concealed.

“I think she has a different objection for the use of that word,” Diamond said as Tonks blushed brightly.

“Oh?” asked Gordon.

“I think you mean idioms, words or phrases that don't mean what they literally say,” Silver said also blushing.

“Like where hamburgers don’t have a scrap of ham in them, or any other pork products for that matter,” Gordon said with an accusing glance at Nymphadora.

“Something like that.” Nymphadora sighed. “You know, I don’t believe for one second that you are that naive, Gordon. You know exactly why those words are inappropriate.”

“Nonetheless, they are the proper way to address a male or female griffin that you are dating.” Gordon shrugged.

“How does that even match?” Nymphadora persisted. “Other than the obvious way.”

“It’s a reflection of the dual nature of griffins. Males get it from the avian half while females from the feline,” Gordon explained.

“That still doesn’t make sense,” Diamond objected. “The female term isn’t gender specific. Female cats are called . . . Help me out here, Silver.”

“I don’t know either. Does it look like my name is Sweetie Belle?”

“It makes perfect sense, once you stop to consider that somegriff in the past must have had a very perverse sense of humor,” Gordon said.

His companions just stared at him incredulously.

“You can’t possibly believe we are the first group to have this very conversation, can you?” Gordon asked.





Aloe didn’t bother looking up from the appointment book when she heard the front door open. “I am so sorry. We are closing early today in observation of the holiday.”

The voice of one of her favorite customers caused her to pay more attention. “We understand, darling, but we have a fashion emergency and were hoping you could find it in your heart to make an exception.”

“Ah, Rarity. I’m sure we could fit you in for some last-minute care.” Aloe looked up and saw that Rarity was accompanied by two unexpected companions. One was a human, female most likely, and the other was a rare sight if not as rare as the new humans. It wasn’t every day a pony was graced with the presence of a fluffle pony. This one was so puffy that she looked like a giant lavender fluff ball with only her hooves and the tip of her muzzle showing.

“It’s not for me, darling.” Rarity pointed a hoof at the ball of fur next to her. “Twilight here needs some help.”

“Twilight?” Aloe tilted her head in surprise. “As in Twilight Sparkle? Our town librarian?”

“In the fur,” said the ball of fluff.

“What happened to you?” Aloe asked, intrigued.

“I went to Andi for some medical attention.” Twilight may have sighed, but it was hard to tell through all of the fur. “She healed up my burns in no time, but my side was left bald. As you can see, the hair regrowth potion took care of that.”

“This really isn’t that bad anymore,” the human said. “We trimmed the majority of it off before owling ourselves to Rarity.”

“You trimmed some of it off?” Aloe said incredulously.

“Most of it,” Andi restated. “There’s enough back in the parlor to make seven separate ponies.”

“Why did you give her so much potion?” Aloe couldn’t resist asking.

“Well, I did the calculations to scale for the size of the bald spot. I think I may have misplaced the decimal point.” Andi shrugged. “Live and learn.”





“What I don’t understand is why you are trying to get all of your sons married.” Pinkie said during a lull in the cooking. “What’s the hurry?”

Molly sat heavily in a chair she had scaled to fit a human. "For some Merlin-awful reason, both Bill and Charlie have chosen occupations that are sure to lead to an early grave. I'm so worried about them that I don't know whether it'll be mine or theirs."

"Colts will be colts," Granny said.

"I want them to live to be husbands. I want them to live to be fathers. I want them to live to be grandfathers. I am going to make sure they find the right girl and settle down," said Molly.

“Y'all need to be careful,” Granny said. “There’s givin' tha young 'uns gentle nudges in tha direction ya want them ta head, and then there’s pushing them so hard that they slip away. It’s a mighty fine line to be treading.”

“I can’t sit back and do nothing.” Molly huffed.

“Ah’m not telling ya ta.” Granny said. “Ah’m jus’ warning that yer colts are their own ponies, and y'all are about ta cross a line that'll lead to a lifetime of regret." She sighed. "It's like pruning a tree. Ya can cut a little to guide it, but cut too much and it's gone forever.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Molly said to the old mare. “I don’t think anyone can understand how I feel.”

Granny snorted. "Ya ain't the first pony ta trot down that path. Ah said the same exact thing to my mah every time she told me something ah didn't like. First fight, first coltfriend, weddin' day, an' tryin' ta keep mah not so li'l colt from courtin' the enemy. Only later did Ah realize she'd already been in mah horseshoes at every step."

"That's different," said Molly. "You're a pony."

"Ah was jus' like you, only on four legs. Tha time fer you ta protect 'em has passed. Now, ya can only nudge them now an' again an' hope they don't make the mistakes ya made yerself. Ya can't let it tear ya apart when they come up with another set on their own."

“I can’t sit back and do nothing,” Molly repeated with less conviction.

“It’ll be the hardest thing y'all ever do,” Granny said. “Ah can’t promise that y'all be pleased, neither. But Ah can say it is better than losin' 'em forever.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t be trying to get my sons to meet good women?”

“Heavens no, Ah’m jus’ saying play yer cards carefully,” Granny said. “After all, ya don’t have ta live with the results, they do."

Molly chuckled. "I guess you're right. Still, it'd be nice to see who my daughters-in-law might be."

Pinkie pronked peripatetically. "Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! I can introduce them all at the party!"

Molly said, "We can't invite every woman I've tried to throw at Charlie and Bill; that's almost a quarter of the town."

“What about Percy Weasley's?” Granny asked. “Don’t he count none?”

“He’s too young to think about marriage. He has his schooling to complete first,” Molly said.

“Now if that ain’t closing the pen door after the pig's run off,” Granny said. “Tha way Ah hear it, yer Ministry considers him married 'cuz he done got frisky with the fillies. Joined thar herd an’ all that. Didn’t yer husband tell ya?”

“WHAT! ARTHUR WEASLY! YOU GET IN HERE RIGHT THIS MOMENT!”

“Guess not,” Granny muttered.

“Somepony is in trouble,” Pinkie said in a sing-song voice.





Charlie had always understood the whole ‘getting into the holiday spirit’ thing, but he had to admit that the ponies took it to another level entirely. How he managed to get in his current position was still a mystery, but he would swear that he had never before felt such merriment. Father Christmas himself could not have spread so much cheer.

A septet of fillies had Charlie and his brothers cornered on a roof when a lone mare had started singing about the joys of the season. All the ponies in earshot had been caught up in the song. Somehow, everyone arranged themselves into teams of dancers and acrobats who sang along as they staged an impromptu performance that was worthy of the best of theatres. A professional troupe could have spent months rehearsing and still not come close to the level of performance that a random group of ponies had managed on their first try.

Charlie still had no idea how he and his brothers had ended up as part of a chorus line with their would-be captors, but they had all harmonized perfectly as they wove through the other groups in an intricate dance.

When the last note died, Dull Roar said, "Would you three like to come over to my place for some cocoa in front of the fireplace?"

Shaking his head, Charlie replied, "I'm really flattered, girls, but you are much too young for me."

“That won’t matter so much in just a couple years,” whined Sad Smile. “We’ll grow on yah.”

“Girls,” Icy Hot snapped. “You’re getting greedy. Fred and George are more than enough.”

“Yes,” Minor Miracle joined in. “Let’s all snuggle in front of the fireplace and get to know each other better.”

“Sounds good to me,” Random Order said in agreement.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” said a white unicorn stallion, barely out of colthood, walking up with three young mares in tow. “We have a family gathering to attend, and it’s about time we head in that direction."

Charlie squinted at the approaching unicorn. “Percy?”

Percy blinked a few times in surprise, but he recognized the voice. “Charlie?”

“Well met, little brother.” Charlie smirked. “Now, don’t be a prat and introduce me to your friends.”

“I would have already, given a minute,” Percy returned. “Dainty Lace, Gracious Tact, Bristle, allow me to introduce my older brother, Charlie. Charlie these are my wives, Bristle, Gracious Tact and Dainty Lace.”

Charlie stared at his brother, stole a glance at the mares, and looked Percy in the face again. “Does mum know?”

“Father promised that I could be the one to break the news to her,” Percy said. “I had planned to broach the subject tonight at supper.”

“Dad made that promise, did he?” Charlie said. “How did you manage that?”

“It was easier than you might think.” Percy said. “His exact words were ‘Son, you know I love you and would do anything for you, but I won’t do that. It’s on you to explain to Molly why you’re married before you’re finished with Hogwarts and more importantly, why she didn’t receive an invitation to your wedding.’”

“I’m starting to think that skipping supper and hanging out with the girls is the way to go,” George said.

“I don’t know.” Fred countered. “I kind of want to put off that particular conversation for a few more years.”

“Is that a promise?” asked Soft Rock.

“Ah,” Fred returned.

“We could wait a couple years.” Dull Roar relented. “Let’s just fill out the herd paperwork.”

“It’s not too early for snuggles, though.” Minor Miracle insisted.

“Ah,” said George.

“It’s not too late for you, either.” Open Secret looked directly at Charlie.

“Still too young,” Charlie stated emphatically.

“We’ll grow on you,” Sad Smile promised.

“No,” Charlie said. “I’ve already got a girl whom I’m interested in.”

“There’s room in the herd for her,” Random Order promised.

“My brother, the cradle robber,” Percy said.

“Give it a rest,” Charlie groaned.





Emma and Applejack joined the group huddled in the family room. “How long has she been at it?” Emma asked during a lull in the hollering.

“Only about fifteen minutes,” Rainbow Dash said. “Based on past experience, she’s just getting started.”

“How are Ron and Bloom doing?” Dan asked.

“The doctors don’t know what’s wrong.” Emma sighed. “I think they might not have believed it, if not for the other five ponies already admitted for similar symptoms. They are keeping the children for observation.”

“They also asked us to bring any leftovers from dinner,” Applejack said. “They’ve taken a hit ta thar stores. Ah’m going ta spend the night there after we eat. Those two can’t be too happy ta spend Hearth's Warming stuck in the hospital.”

Sirius sighed. “Things have gone downhill rapidly. Though, I can’t blame Molly. I can’t believe Arthur hadn’t already brought up the fact that Percy got himself married.”

“He did what now?” Applejack gasped.

“You know, Pinkie said. “He got up close and personal with his filly friends, so the humans' Ministry recognizes them as being married. We’ve only been talking about it for the last couple days.”

“What?” Applejack jerked her head in Pinkies direction.

“Yeah,” Pinkie continued. “Just like we were saying about Twilight and Sirius. Don’t you remember? Hmm, wait, you weren’t there for that conversation. How about when we were at Rarity’s discussing . . . No, wait, that was Fluttershy. How about . . . No, you weren’t there either. Wow, I think you were absent whenever the subject got brought up.”

Applejack gave a keening wail. “Aaaaaaa . . .”

“I’m thinking we should have probably have told you before your date,” Pinkie mused.

“. . . Aaaaaa . . .” Applejack continued.

“How’d that go anyway? We haven’t had time to sit down and have a mare’s talk,” Pinkie said.

“. . . Aaaaaaaa . . .” Applejack continued.

“I can tell that we really need to hold a class on the dissemination of critical information,” Remus stated.





Professor Snape sent a sideways glance at his colleague. “Minerva, I hardly need someone to hold my hand. I am perfectly capable of making the inquiry on my own.”

Professor McGonagall tutted as she and the potions professor crossed the atrium of the Ministry. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Severus. If Mr. Lee’s information is accurate, you’re in for a surprise.”

“The theatrics ill suit you.” Severus sneered. “You could simply tell me what you expect to find.”

“And risk you attempting to make a run for it?” Minerva said. “I think not.”

“That’s hardly reassuring,” Severus replied.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“I fail to see why I should continue on this course of action,” Severus said.

“This will be good for you,” Minerva said cryptically. “I dare say that it will change your outlook on life.”

“I have a perfectly fine outlook on life,” Severus countered.

“Your outlook isn’t the least bit healthy,” Minerva noted.

“It is, however, my outlook. I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of it.”

“I’ve learned my lesson not to leave things as they are if they prove detrimental,” Minerva said. “I cannot believe the things I let slide before.”

“I was content with the way things were,” Severus said.

“No.” Minerva shook her head. “You most assuredly were not. You were merely surviving.”

“How did you two beat me here?” Amelia called out from behind them. “Tell me who informed you; this isn’t ready for release yet.”

The two professors turned to find the director of the DMLE bearing down upon them. They shared a look before Severus said. “I am sure we have no clue what you are going on about.”

Amelia snorted. “I don’t believe for a second that you’re not here because of the recent attack in Dumbledore’s office.”

“Something happened to Albus?” Minerva asked.

“Did he have a run in with another pony?” Severus inquired.

“Please spare me the feigned surprise.” Amelia snapped. “You know perfectly well, that there was a battle which was over before my aurors could arrive.” She huffed indignantly. “I suppose there is nothing to be done about your presence.” She scowled. “When I find out who leaked this to you, mark my words, heads will roll.” She took a second to compose herself. “Follow me and try not to get underfoot.”

The two professors shared another look before following quietly after the irritated woman as she hurried on her way. Before long, they arrived at a disheveled office. Not a single piece of furniture had been spared, and the walls were covered with gouges and scorch marks. Somehow, an end table was embedded neatly in the ceiling.

“Well?” Amelia snapped at one of the aurors in the room going over the scene.

Looking over his shoulder, the auror replied. “Aside from the obvious damage, there is nothing new to report. When we got here, all the combatants had fled the scene without a trace. We have no idea how they got in or out.”

Amelia sighed. “No sign of Dumbledore?”

“We’re at a loss,” the auror admitted.

“The 'Daily Prophet' is going to have a field day with this,” Amelia lamented.

Taking a step forward, Professor McGonagall spoke up. “I do believe I may be of some assistance.”

“You have something to add?” Amelia asked, diverting her attention.

“Possibly,” Minerva said walking forward only to stop in front of three rocks conspicuously lying in a corner. “Well?” she said expectantly.

Silence met her question.

“Well?” Minerva repeated as the others in the room looked on curiously.

More silence followed.

“Don’t make me reduce you to gravel.” Minerva said.

“There’s no need to get violent,” the rock responded, and more than one auror trained their wand on the harmless-looking stones.

“It would appear that there has been sufficient violence already,” Minerva said.

“The old man was rather cranky,” the rock noted.

“Where is Albus?” Minerva asked.

“Albus who?” asked the rock.

Minerva raised an eyebrow, yet didn’t utter a word.

“You’re glaring at me, aren’t you?” the rock said. “You do realize I don’t have any eyes.”

It was Minerva’s turn to return silence.

“He’s been removed so as not to be a danger to innocents,” the rock admitted.

“That isn’t your decision.” Minerva said. “Kindly return him.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” The rock argued. "Our queen has calculated there is an 85% chance that he will traumatize an entire generation." More silence ensued. "There is also a 97% chance that he will cause the end of an eighth of your family lines."

“I can’t fathom how you’d make those calculations. Be that as it may, don’t just sit there,” Minerva admonished. “I expect the prompt return of our colleague.”

“I’m a rock; sitting here is kinda my thing.”

“As is kidnapping helpless old men, it would seem,” Minerva said.

“Helpless?” the rock said indignantly. “Have you seen what he did to this room?”

“I thought you said, you didn’t have any eyes,” Minerva scolded.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t,” the rock countered.

“Just admit that you’re caught and return what you have taken.” Minerva sighed. “Perhaps you should work at not being obvious.”

“I’m not Obvious!” the rock protested. “She is.”

“Shut up!” commanded a potted plant laying on its side.

“Right then,” Minerva said, turning away from the conversation. “We’ve done all we can; let us continue on to the Records Department, Severus.”

“You need to learn to keep your mouth shut,” the plant admonished.

“I haven’t got a mouth, either,” The rock protested. Then it snorted. "At least we're field agents. We only have to deal with the fun stuff."

A ream of parchment slammed down in front of it. "What's this?" asked the rock.

Amelia said, "That's the paperwork that needs to be filled out for this case. You and your friends aren't going anywhere until it's done."

"Noooooo!"
> Chapter 91: Names Not Known
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The countdown to the official start of festivities was in full swing in the streets of Canterlot. Ponies were packed flank to flank, nose to tail, as they hurried to make their last-minute purchases. It was just past high noon, and everything had to be ready by sunset, when the Hearth's Warming Eve celebrations would begin.

It was a scene that happened once each year. Despite the burgeoning crowds, the prevailing mood mirrored the merry decorations that dressed the streets and storefronts. Everything played out as it had since the founding of the city, almost as if a slice of time had been unwrapped just for the occasion.

This year, however, there was more "almost" than normal. As if by magic, the crowd had parted for a unicorn and her entourage. To the typical pony, there was nothing exceptional about the mint-green unicorn who walked in the middle of the pool of bright light. Her companions, however, were another matter.

Both were two-legged things, much like minotaurs without horns. The one in front was dressed in warm pants and long jacket that seemed to have been made from a down comforter. Over these garments, it wore a harness that held a frame to the middle of its body. From that frame, a box with a bright light pointed unerringly at the unicorn, regardless of the strange being's gait.

The details of the other companion were much easier to see. Judging by the voice, it was a mare, with somewhat gruesome taste in clothing. The woolen trousers over its legs seemed normal enough, but the jacket it wore was made from the fur of some unfortunate rodents, while its paws were covered in the skins of dead animals. Underneath its straw-colored mane, it sported bright blue eyes and an expression that exuded almost equine intelligence.

Stopping in front of a gaily-decorated pine tree, the unicorn said, "This is a good place to rest our hooves for a minute, Heather. I always loved the way we get all three tribes together to put on this display."

The fur-clad companion replied, "It's beautiful, Lyra. It would fit in perfectly with the Christmas decorations in downtown London."

Lyra said, "I still can't get over the similarities between our worlds. It's uncanny how we celebrate the same things."

“Mommy!” cried a high-pitched voice. “What are those?”

“I have no idea Passion Fruit,” replied a mare. “Don’t draw attention to yourself; they may be dangerous.”

The light tracked Heather's movements as she turned toward the voice. A turquoise unicorn mare quickly sheltered a yellow filly between her legs. The two tried to back away as Heather walked toward them, but the crowd did not cooperate. Stopping an arm's length away, Heather said, "Excuse me, ma'am, might I talk with you and your daughter?"

Hastily, Lyra trotted over. "It's all right. They're with me."

"Who are you?" asked the mare.

"Lyra Heartstrings. I'm Princess Celestia's ambassador to the human world."

Looking up at Heather, the mare asked, "What are you?"

“My name is Heather, I’m a human. We’re here to offer a glimpse of pony culture to our viewers.”

Passion Fruit poked her head out between her mother's legs. "Nuh uh! Humans are just make-believe. What are you really?"

Chuckling, Heather replied, "You got me there, dear. I'm a cub reporter. This could be my big break."

Wide-eyed, Passion Fruit said, "You write news stories about baby timberwolves?"

"No, dear. Not that kind of cub."

"What about lions?"

"No, dear."

"Or tigers?"

"No, dear."

"Or bears?"

"No, dear."

"Silly, a baby deer is a fawn."

Heather cast a helpless glance at the mother. The mare simply shrugged. Hastily, Lyra said, "So, Passion Fruit, what do you want for Hearth's Warming?"

The filly bounced in anticipation. “A Red Range Runner Repeating Revolving Replica Crank-Cocked Crossbow.” She paused to take a breath. "With real simulated tungsten core bolts!"

Heather blinked for a moment before blurting, “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid.”

“I’m not a baby goat, either! I'm a pony!”

Sighing, Heather addressed the mother. “You do realize, your husband has probably already bought her one.”

The mare shook her head. “Her father thinks they are far too dangerous and is appalled by the very notion.”

Heather blinked before she remembered her research on pony culture. “You got her one, didn’t you?”

The mare angrily raised a hoof and gave an unmistakable shushing motion. “I had one when I was a filly,” she asserted.

Heather sighed. “Just remember to get her some safety goggles as well.”

With a less than subtle nudge, Lyra pushed Heather away from the mare. "Time to continue the tour. I'm sure there'll be plenty of ponies who will want to be interviewed."





James Tilley sighed as he gave his wand a gentle flick. The sign over his podium now read, "Now Serving 97". The Records Department in the Ministry of Magic was supposed to be quiet as a church on Christmas Eve. He had looked forward to savoring the holiday cheer nestled in a large flask in the folds of his robe. Given what had happened over the past week, he realized that he should have expected the unexpected.

The room had, at times, been filled to capacity, with the line snaking through the room. He had been on duty since 8 o'clock that morning, and he desperately wanted to take his lunch break. In truth, he would have welcomed any sort of break, but he was working alone. He already had to scourgify his robes five times that day in lieu of his normal breaks, and he was only ten hours into his twelve-hour shift. Now, there was only one small family left, and they were at one of the standing desks, navigating their way through the forms.

Tilley closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose, promising himself that he’d close down the office after he had dealt with their issue.

A familiar male voice announced the arrival of more citizens coming to request his aid, "Are you sure this couldn't wait until after the holidays?"

A stern female voice replied as two blasts from his recent past filed through the doorway, "This is of the utmost urgency, Severus."

Startled, Tilley widened his eyes. "Professor McGonagall? Professor Snape? What can I do for you?"

Snape replied, "Professor McGonagall insists that I must examine my vital records immediately. I fail to understand what could be so urgent."

Tilley could almost have sworn the hint of a smile crossed the features of his former transfiguration professor.

Turning to McGonagall, Snape said, "I'm positive there have been no births, deaths, or marriages in the time I've been away."

McGonagall took a fat galleon from her robe and placed it on the counter. "Expedited service would be appreciated, Mr. Tilley."

Tilley went to the stacks and returned a moment later with a manila envelope. Placing it in front of Snape, he said, "Congratulations, Professor."

Bemused, Snape replied, "I'm sure I do not know what you are talking about."

McGonagall opened the folder. "It says you are now married to a Jacqueline Apple and a Zakariyya Mstari."

Snape snatched the folder and read the contents. "How.” Only his rapid acquisition of the paperwork betrayed his utter disbelief. "That's bigamy."

Shrugging, McGonagall replied, "Taking on two sets of in-laws is very big of you."

“I hardly think now is the time for jesting,” Severus said as he confirmed Tilley’s words. “According to this, my magic has bound itself to both Applejack and Zecora well above the levels that the Ministry recognizes as marriage. The matrix almost perfectly mimics the ancient druids' matrimony rituals. How did that happen?”

With a barely suppressed smirk, McGonagall replied, "You see, when a mare and a stallion love each other very much . . ."

Tilley wasn’t as successful at containing his mirth. “It’s all legal and above board. There have even been talks with the Equestrians to get their government to recognize its legitimacy. It’s not like there is any known way of breaking such a bond, anyway.”

“You seem rather well-versed on the subject,” Severus observed, still reading.

“These cases are rather conspicuous, since a new folder appears for each new wife. Unfortunately, it is up to the junior clerk to go through both the Ministry's and the muggles' records to confirm their status as aliens before we can send the immigration paperwork.” Tilley shrugged. “You’re not even that noteworthy having two. So far, Peter Pettigrew has the record, and I don’t see anyone catching up anytime soon, although I've heard rumors of someone named Wilton who had been busier.”

“Peter Pettigrew?” Minerva said in surprise. “May I see those records?”

“I am sorry Professor.” Tilley sounded remorseful. “As he’s not one of your current students, I cannot help you there.”

“Excuse me for intruding,” said a woman wearing muggle clothes, holding a fistful of paperwork and leading a ten-year-old boy. “I couldn’t help overhearing, and was wondering if this may relate to me.” She sent a quick glance toward the boy at her side. “When I was young and dumb, I did some things that had permanent consequences and I didn’t get the name of my partner.”

The other adults in the room nodded in understanding.

“I came here hoping that since Matt here is magical, there might be a way to track down . . . someone.” She bit her lip. “Does this mean I’m legally married to his father?”

Tilly warily eyed the boy as he replied. “No ma’am, normally . . . um that act does not result in an automatic marriage. There has, however, been a perfect record of pony-human relations being, er, steadfast due to a yet to be explained magical bonding.”

“So . . .” The woman’s eyes were downcast. “This is going to be a dead end?”

“Quite the opposite,” Tilly said. “Regardless of circumstances, Matt’s file will have the name you seek, whether the individual is magical or not. It’s built into the system. We keep meticulous records of anyone magical born to the isles.”

“Most of it updates automatically,” Minerva stated. “Which is why my friend here is just finding out about his own change in status.”

“As calmly as he’s taking it, I’m going to assume it’s not too uncommon. I suspect divorces are just as easy to obtain,” the woman said.

“There is no such thing as a magical divorce,” Minerva replied. “Professor Snape here is just accomplished at hiding his feelings. Those of us who know him recognize that he’s panicking right now.”

“I am not panicking.”

“You also haven’t blinked in near on a minute,” Minerva retorted.

“I hardly think that is significant.”

“For you, that’s the equivalent of running around with your arms in the air screaming.” Tilly could only nod his head in agreement with Professor McGonagall’s assessment.

“You’re taking entirely too much pleasure from this,” Severus stated.

“You have no idea,” Minerva returned.

“Well, imagine finding you here,” Arthur Weasley said, walking into the room, followed closely by Remus Lupin.

“Arthur,” Minerva said in greeting. “Good timing, you’ll want to order Mr. Tilly here to get you all the records on Peter Pettigrew and his wives,”

Arthur hesitated before throwing a glance and a nod toward the records keeper.

“I’ll be right back,” Tilly said, leaving the counter.

“Severus.” Remus acknowledged the other man in the room.

“Remus,” Severus returned; ice would have been warmer.

“I assume you are here for the same reason we are,” Remus said.

“That’s a safe bet,” Severus replied.

Remus paused. “Your wife was in shock when I left.”

“Then I shall go to her, posthaste.” Severus made to push past the ex-werewolf.

“Severus,” Remus said again.

“What?” came the impatient request.

“She is best friends with Sirius’s wife.”

“That is unfortunate.”

“You can’t avoid him forever,” Remus continued.

“He tried to kill me.”

“It was a childish prank. I was in just as much danger as you, and I forgave him.”

“That is your prerogative.”

“You can’t hate him forever.”

“That is my prerogative.”

Minerva pursed her lips, but said nothing.

“It is,” Remus sighed. “I can’t blame you, but I think it would be best for everyone involved if . . .”

“You have no right to ask that of me,” Severus snapped.

“It has to be asked,” Minerva said. “Lily would have wanted you to be in Harry’s life in more than just a professional manner.”

“She told me she never wanted to talk to me again.” Severus could not contain the hurt behind his occlumency shields.

“Children say things that they foolishly think they cannot take back, no matter how much they might wish to,” Minerva stated. “She was devastated and felt betrayed.”

Severus looked Minerva in the eyes, then looked away. “I need to go. The past is the past. The present needs me right now.”

“Then let the past be the past,” Minerva called after the potions master as he stalked from the room. “You received forgiveness; is it too much to ask that you give it?”

Severus stopped, mid-step, but did not turn around.

“For Lily,” Minerva said when no words were forthcoming.

“For Lily,” Severus said as he left.

“He doesn’t seem that emotionless to me,” the muggle woman stated.

“Lily is his weak spot,” Remus said. Turning to Professor McGonagall, he added, “That was ruthless.”

“Yet necessary and long overdue,” Minerva responded.

“There’s a story here,” the woman said.

“Unfortunately, not a pleasant one,” Minerva acknowledged.

“It has a happy ending, I hope.”

“That remains to be seen,” Minerva said. “But, recently, it has taken a marked turn for the better.”

Tilly choose that time to return to the counter; without a word, he placed a sizable pile of files on the surface. Minerva’s weren’t the only eyes to widen sharply at the number.

“What’s this?” Remus asked curiously.

“Peter Pettigrew's and his wives’ folders,” Tilly said with a nod in Arthur’s direction. “Heads of department have access to most records.”

“Peter?” Remus proved he could still growl like a wolf.

“Yes, didn’t you pay any attention to Minerva when we got here?” Arthur asked, reaching for the top folder. “She told me to ask for Peter’s file and those of his wives.”

“I was focused on Severus.” He eyed the thick stack of paper. “The traitor has been busy.” Anger and awe warred in Remus’s voice.

“That’s an understatement,” Arthur replied in agreement.

“I think it’s safe to say that he found his way to Equestria.” Minerva announced the obvious.

Arthur put the file he had been perusing back onto the counter and gave it a slight pat. “Looks like he’s had some tragedy; this one is deceased.” The next folder was soon in his hands. He frowned after just a few seconds before returning that folder as well and reaching for the next. This ritual repeated itself an uncomfortable number of times. He hadn't gotten half way through the pile before he stacked them neatly and waved his wand over it. With a few words, he generated a duplicate set.

“Well?” Minerva asked.

Arthur looked at her with a haunted look and shook his head. “Remus, could you tell Molly that I won’t be making it back for supper tonight?”

“Of course,” Remus said. "What has the rat done now?”

“I’ll fill you in later,” Arthur said, snatching up the duplicate pile. “Right now, I need to go find Xenophilius. We need to stop Peter before he does any more damage to our relations with the ponies.” With those words he rushed from the room at a speed that fell just short of a sprint.

“And here, Arthur came with me just to get away from a chewing out,” Remus said. “I’ll wager he wishes he was still getting yelled at by his wife.”

“Why was Molly so angry?” Minerva asked.

“Percy managed to go and get himself married.” Remus said.

Minerva let out an exasperated sigh.

“You people are bloody bonkers with your marriages, aren’t you?” said the muggle woman.





It had been several minutes since the last human auror had left the room. They had left the office much as they had found it. The only real changes were the absences of a pile of rocks and one lone potted plant. Silence had reigned after the door had been shut. Long after the last footstep had faded, a ring of green flames surrounded the table embedded in the ceiling.

"Really?" said a deadpan voice. "A table? In the ceiling?"

"More plausible than a pile of rocks." The words came from where the table had been just a few seconds past.

"Better a talking rock than a talking plant." Noted another voice.

Yet another voice had a barely suppressed sigh. "Now we have to rescue these idiots." Loudly, it said, "Grapple, do you still have our target?"

"Neatly packed in a shrunken trunk. I still can't believe that we managed to get along without them before."

The inquisitor replied, "You and Snatches need to make the drop." It groaned. "And don't be seen."

Grapple replied, "We're not amateurs."

There was a brief scuffling sound from the ceiling.  "Not to put too fine a point on things, but GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!"





It was the most unusual of circumstances that had brought Mystic Books to the palace. She was in possession of two promissory notes for a substantial number of bits. Both were apparently worthless. The bank had refused to honor them because they lacked a cutie mark indicator. The second had come from a strange creature who had referred her to a well-known pony. Unfortunately, she could not remember who the guarantor was. The first had been from a repeat customer who had an impeccable reference. It was time to look that reference up.

Those familiar with the workings of the palace knew that for business matters that required Princess Celestia's authorization but did not involve the princess personally, the pony to contact was Raven Inkwell, her top administrator. It was for that reason that Mystic found herself at the office of the biggest paper pusher in the land.

Mystic could not help but notice the scowl that marred the other mare's face. She had obviously come at a bad time.

In a professional tone, Raven asked, "May I help you?"

“J’espere.” Mystic nodded. “I was told to talk to you if I had any problems with this.” She levitated the writ over to the still-scowling mare.

Raven barely glanced at it before saying “Yes, I can see to it that this is honored.” This time, it was Raven's magic that opened a drawer of the desk to levitate a signet stamp and a quill. "I apologize for the inconvenience this caused." As she affixed the royal seal and added her signature, she said, "May I ask how long it will be before we receive the order that we placed with you?"

“Je demande votre patience,” Mystic said. “The requested crystals have very exigeante specifications. I needed to retune those I had on hoof to meet the demands, but they are ready for delivery.”

“I can have a guard escort you back and retrieve the goods,” Raven offered.

“Oui,” Mystic said. “That would be appreciated.” She paused before saying, “Pardon, would you perhaps know how I can get this redeemed?” Another paper floated toward Raven.

The new paper caused Raven to blink in surprise. “The crown will be pleased to cover this one. The humans have lent us one of their best healers without a fuss; it would be the least we can do.” She levitated a royal voucher from her drawer and added her authorization.

“Merci.” Mystic happily beamed. “I was at a lose”

“Loss.” Raven absentmindedly corrected. “I hate to cut this short,” Raven floated the voucher to the waiting mare. “But I was just made aware of something that needs to be brought before the princess’s immediate attention.” A thick sheaf of papers left her desk and found its way into a waiting saddle bag. “I beg your pardon for my rudeness.”

“Non, you were most helpful,” Mystic assured her. “My worries have been taken care of. Merci, your time is much appreciated.”

“Have a Happy Hearth's Warming,” Raven said before leaving instructions for a guard. A few inquiries placed the two elder princesses in the same location. Picking up the pace, Raven hurried to the room in question, only to be disappointed to find she was entering on the heels of a pair of humans, a fact that guaranteed there would be a delay in bringing her news to the princesses’ attentions. Still, as a trusted advisor, she could enter and observe until the humans left. She found a quiet corner to stand in while the humans went through their greetings with Celestia warmly welcoming them.

The human’s mannerisms were not so different from ponies that Raven missed the signs that both were distressed. Anger and worry were evident in both of their features. Whatever they were here for was not going to be good for the holiday atmosphere.

“Your highness.” The human that Raven knew to be Xenophilius Lovegood brought the encounter over to the serious side of the court. “I regret I have bad tidings, and I hope that we can continue with good relations once everything is revealed.”

“I assure you that every effort shall be made to see that it is so,” Celestia said. “I’m sure we can work out whatever concerns you may have.”

Xenophilius waved for the other human to hoof him a stack of folders. “I have here the records of one Peter Pettigrew and his wives.”

Raven could not keep in the small gasp that escaped her lips. The limits of the humans’ ability to disregard the exploitation of stallions had finally been reached. The poor male in question probably couldn’t walk straight anymore.

“Minister Lovegood,” Celestia said, eyeing the stack. “I assure you that we most certainly do not condone any stallion being married to so many mares. Please do not see this as an insult as we were not aware of such activity.”

“What?” The human actually blinked in surprise. “The number of women is not something we take issue with.” It was the ponies in the room turn to blink in surprise. “Rather it’s the status of the majority that is our concern. We fear Peter’s actions are most heinous.”

“What meanest thou?” Princess Luna asked as she used her magic to retrieve the folders in question. “Surely the sheer number of mares involved must raise some disquiet.”

“It raises much disquiet,” Xenophilius admitted.

“This is awkward,” Celestia said. “I am ashamed of the actions of my ponies. Please have a seat and we shall discuss how to . . .”

“Sister,” Princess Luna interrupted. “Most of these mares art deceased. 'Twould seem that Peter Pettigrew is preying on the weak and infirmed. We can only assume he seeks the worldly possessions left behind.”

Raven started. The ball of blame was now firmly in the human’s side of the court.

“Weak and infirmed?” Celestia asked.

“The ages of those involved point in that direction,” Xenophilius said. “We are most appalled at the actions of this individual and will immediatly make a team of aurors available to aid in bringing the scoundrel to justice.”

“Thy offer of assistance is most gratefully accepted.” Princess Luna levitated the pile of folders over to Raven. “Know that we do not hold thy human government responsible for the actions of one depraved individual.”

“Know also that any who dare prey on our ponies will be dealt with most harshly,” Celestia said. “We reserve the right to administer punishment up to and including permanent solutions.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Xenophilius said. “You will not hear a word of protest from us in this matter. Peter is already wanted for his participation in the murder of the Potters. We would consider it a boon if you were to find it necessary to employ such permanent solutions.”

“The subject is most foul,” Luna said. “We are of accord that this Peter Pettigrew is to be held in contempt.”

“Excuse me, your highness.” Raven had scanned the names on the folders and was now checking them against a list she had retrieved from her saddle bags. “The situation may not be as dire as it first appears, and I know where Peter Pettigrew is.” She blushed. "I had to look up 'hyperpareunia'."





Ponyville General was the last place where one would expect a holiday celebration. Anypony would expect that the sterile white walls, hushed tones, and the threat of the inevitable would suck out any vestige of joy like a parched vampire. It was the best Hearth's Warming ever.

For one undersized blue pegasus colt, this was the first time he was allowed to celebrate the season. In years past, he had been relegated to the role of a despised scullery maid, being forced to do all the menial tasks while being denied even the smallest crumb from the holiday table.

In this ward, behind a protective magical barrier, ponies young and old reveled while friends and family outside the barrier celebrated at a distance. Every scrap that went inside had to be inspected and tested to make sure it could cause no harm. The walls outside were also bare, lest some pathogen find refuge, only to wreak havoc when defenses were lowered.

He smiled as he watched those on the inside devour the bounty that he and his herd had brought. Two of his herdmates, the ones everyone else mistook for redheaded twins, were among the afflicted. He could practically taste the joy that they and the other patients exuded.

He could hardly believe how much things had changed in a few short months. He had gone from an outcast to one of a group of friends who would stand up for each other, regardless of the cost. He had gained parents who gave him the love and guidance he had been denied for years. He had gained a form and abilities that he, as a mere boy, would never have imagined.

He could scarcely believe the bliss of feeling the wind beneath his wings. The spirits of the air had beckoned, and he had answered their call. Instincts that he never imagined came to the fore when he needed them most. The wind was his servant, and the skies his playground.

He scowled when he thought back on his introduction into the magical world. People he didn't know had come up to him and insisted that he was fated to do great things. Everyone seemed to think his future was immutably cast in stone.

He smiled triumphantly.

Fate be damned; he would be his own pony.





The celebration was in full swing. Bright lights, cheerful colors, and merry ponies were all around. It was the worst Hearth's Warming ever.

Everypony knew that misery loved company, and she was denied even that. Though she was in a crowd of ponies enjoying the hospitality of the palace, she was alone. The unfairness of her life had been hammered home in the last week. Before that week, she had almost given up. For a pegasus, losing the ability to fly was like losing the very thing that made life worth living. What made it more devastating was that hope had been dangled in her face. The human doctor had performed miracles. Her therapy group had found common ground in their grounding. Now, almost all of them had broken free of the bonds of earth, once again feeling the rush of air beneath their wings.

She was not meant for miracles. The human could not grow back a wing that had been completely lost.

She wasn't the only one in the group so afflicted. That, however, did nothing to ease the pain; what good was a pegasus who could not fly?

She had all of half of one wing left.

It would have been far kinder if the accident had just taken her life.

The human had told her there were other ways they could fly. There were even stories of earth pony foals doing it.

It wasn't the same. She would forever be a cripple.

The pity in the eyes of her family was almost unbearable.

They understood.

They knew there was nothing they could do for her.

Hugs would not see her flying under her own power once again.

Words were useless.

Empathy was appreciated, but ultimately meaningless.

She had lost the sky.

Forever gone.

The merriment of the ponies surrounding her had refused to let her in.

She had hoped that being at the annual party might bring a sliver of the cheer it had before.

She had been wrong.

Everything was a reminder of what she had lost.

Her mood could not get any darker.

Her world was a meager shadow of what it once was.

Colors were dulled.

Sounds were muted.

Joy was obliterated.

. . .

She did not see how it happened.

An explosion rocked the ground, and the screams started.

One of the ancient pillars was slowly falling.

Everypony was running away, everypony, except one colt, frozen in terror.

He was dead.

She refused to believe.

He was dead.

She was in a gallop before she had realized that she was moving.

He was dead.

How could his mother have abandoned him? He was no more than five! Pegasus magic reduced her weight and sliced through the air in front of her.

He was dead.

Not on her watch. Simple physics dictated that she would stop just a bit further than where he stood. She could accept that.

He was dead.

She leapt, once again feeling the familiar rush of wind beneath her. Her forehooves connected, sending the little earth pony flying.

She saw him land, out of danger.

He would live.

She knew the price would not be paid with aluminum.

Darkness fell.

She smiled.

Death be not proud; she had won.
> Chapter 92: Taking a Step Back
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well before Arthur had managed to track down the Minister, Severus Snape had acquired the services of an owl with a pouch. From the dark confines of the conveyance, he found himself alone with his most vicious tormentor. He found himself alone with his thoughts.

Despite his calm outward appearance, his mind was a tumultuous jumble. Though he would never voice the words, he was well and truly out of his depth. He was no longer alone. He was bonded to others. Others were bonded to him. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, they were joined until death did them part. They were now as close as any beings could be. He was terrified.

Bitter experience had taught him that the road ahead was fraught with peril. He had once held someone in his heart. She had been his everything, and he had cast her out. He had witnessed a scene beyond horror. He had seen that she had died at the hands of the one to whom he had pledged his loyalty. Ten years had passed, and the pain was still as fresh as it had been on that first night.

He knew there was no escaping the past. He knew he would forever be the child of the broken woman who had been his mother and the monster who had taken everything worth living for from her, his father. That waste of breath held the title only through a technicality of biology. Snape wouldn't even dignify that thing by calling it a bastard; that would be a grave insult to all those unfortunate enough to have been born out of wedlock.

Bitterly, he thought back to the time he was a frightened whelp forced to seek refuge from a home that had been shattered from within. As improbable as it now seemed, Lily had befriended him. She had been his only true friend. As he entered Hogwarts, he had applied that term to his fellow Slytherins, but that was a mere courtesy. To them, he would always be the half-blood marginally respectable enough to be an associate. Lily, on the other hand, had not cared about such things. Lilly had accepted him for who he was.

Throughout his childhood, Lily had been the bedrock that had kept his head above the quicksand of a home life that threatened to suffocate him. She had given the love his mother could not. She had provided the comfort that the monster had taken pains to deny him. For that, Snape would be forever grateful.

Lily was his one true love. His peers at the time would have thought it to be mere hormone-soaked eros. While Snape would admit to himself that it was there, he knew that philia and storge were at the forefront of what he felt. He simply was not complete without her. It was she who had made him whole. It was she who left his soul with a hole. It was she who still gave him hope that there might be something truly worth living for.

It had become painfully obvious that she did not reciprocate. He still could not understand how she could have pledged herself to the one who had dedicated his existence to making Snape's life a living nightmare. He had done everything humanly possible to guide her to the light. It had all been for naught.

The day had come. The day had left a scar on his soul. The day had haunted all his dreams. The day kept finding a way to claw its way to the front of his mind.

He had called her that word.

Enraged and embarrassed, the now-master of occlumency had vented his anger on his only friend.

He had called her that word.

She had returned his rage in equal measure.

He had called her that word.

In his lifetime of regrets, two far outstripped the rest. Of the two, the worse was that he had told his master what he knew of the prophecy. That mistake had cost him any chance of atonement. That mistake had cost him any chance of forgiveness. There was nothing he wouldn't give to have Lily alive and happy, even if it forever cost him her friendship, even if it cost him his life.

He had called her that word.

The guilt and self-loathing had festered for years. It had not taken a genius to foresee what would happen, and Snape was no fool. The product of Lily and the usurper had arrived. The avatar of his love and his hatred would be there to remind him of his greatest mistake for every working day for the next seven years. The result of the unholy bond would be there to underscore the misery that was now his life.

Snape had realized that the only thing that had shielded the innocent child from his wrath was the boy's unlikely friendship with the three young girls whom Snape had been forbidden to antagonize. He had stared into the abyss where his vengeance would have led. The three smiling faces that had looked back had saved him from the fall.

Still, it hurt.

The progeny had the face of his greatest foe. The smile he had grown to hate had come back to haunt him.

Still, it hurt.

The progeny had the eyes of his only love. The piercing green eyes still seemed to bore through his very soul.

How could it hurt so much to look at a mere child? Why did it feel like it was shredding his very essence? Why did it look like the darkness that was his life would consume all that he was?

A single point of light had pierced the darkness. Sprung from the pouch of a messenger owl, it had taken the shape of a woman. The woman had spoken exclusively in rhymes. The woman had no preconceptions about Snape. The woman had looked past the mask that Snape had used as his shield.

She had left him speechless.

She was the patch for the hole in his soul.

She was the one to tip the balance of his life, be it toward the heights of ecstasy or the depths of despair.

She terrified him.

A second point of light had pierced the darkness. Sprung from the pouch of a messenger owl, it had taken the shape of a woman. The woman had no pomp. The woman had no pretense. The woman had huge tracts of land.

She was the embodiment of one of the virtues of her world.

She was the antithesis of what he had become.

She was Knight Elemental, Honesty.

She terrified him.

What is it that she could possibly have seen in him? He had survived on lies. He had lied to others to keep them at bay. He had lied to himself to keep himself sane.

It simply made no sense. There was no reason for any woman to be interested in him, let alone two. Why had he agreed to that date? Why had he waited so long to agree? Why had the special something been thrust into his hands for the taking?

This was something that went beyond the mere physical.

This was something he could not bear to lose.

This was something he would defend with his life, his magic, his soul.

Green eyes were forever lost to him. That he could not deny.

Eyes of green and eyes of blue waited for him at the end of his ride.

Was it too much to hope that they would accept the mass of imperfection now bound to them?





The flames faded away. He was free! Was this better? It looked, smelled, and felt like big fire had died here not long ago. Surely, the fire birds could not have done this. There were many foals around moving bits of dead tree with their mouths. Was this her herd?

A orange foal with purple mane and tail babbled like a two-legger. "'About time you got back, Sweetie. Big Mac hasn’t been too happy with you disappering like that." She had no horn. Was she a cripple?

The white foal seemed to play along. "It's not my fault that Philomena decided to grab Magah and me. We have a lost Earth unicorn stallion here."

From somewhere in the herd, another foal babbled. "Just pop him over to the Forbidden Forest."

The white one continued to sound like a two-legger. "I don't think he's from there."

"You can only have one pet at school," He turned to the sound of the voice coming toward him. This foal was not quite white, and his mane was the color of dry sand. A colt? From another stallion? He must be destroyed!

With a snort, he leapt, bringing his forehooves down where the colt had been a heartbeat earlier. He spun around and located the retreating colt. There was no way he could miss this time.

As he tensed for his next leap, he saw a blur of red from the corner of his eye. Before he could react, a blow struck him in the side, lifting him bodily from the ground and sending him tumbling.

“NOPE!”

The colt’s father had arrived.

Quickly, he found his hooves. The bulky rival stood a distance away with muscles tensed. He was not looking for a fight, but he had to show that he was not afraid before he left. Just as he started to trade glares with the red stallion, a lavender filly galloped toward him, screaming. She seemed to stumble as she reached him. The two-hooved buck that snapped his head back showed it was no accident. A second blow caught his chest and sent him back several steps.

That was more than enough! A familiar blanket of white lay beyond the dead trees. He could see the beginnings of a more heavily forested area in the distance. With a whinny, he bolted for safety at a full gallop with the little lavender filly in hot pursuit. With his longer stride and taller stance, he easily outdistanced his pursuer. The soft snow would only magnify his advantage.

When he reached the tree line, he risked a look back. The mare who had come to him in the prison was prancing in place irritably while the large red stallion was holding the filly off the ground by her brown tail.

The filly was wildly swinging her limbs while spouting like an angry two-legger.

It was time to leave. With a snort, he rushed deeper into the forest.





Cucumber Crisps' bad day had just gotten worse. She had endured a twelve-hour non-stop train ride stuffed with ponies who cared not a whit about personal space or personal hygiene. To make matters worse, the club car had been running an all-you-can-drink promotion while all of the toilets were backed up. Despite the relief she had found before stowing her luggage at her parents' house, she had still been in a foul mood when she arrived at the house of her little sister, Mellow Yolk. She had not been surprised to find the dwelling unoccupied; that simply dictated that the next destination was the market square, where the egg broker was sure to be peddling her wares. The scene that she had stumbled upon was obscene beyond belief, and her darling little sister was in the middle of it.

Mellow Yolk and what seemed like every mare at the market had trapped a pair of young stallions. The mob was making suggestions that would be unacceptable except among married ponies. This was just the sort of behavior the laws had been enacted to prevent. Those two were ponies, not some merchandise to be fought over. This had to stop, or she would call the guard herself and have the lot of them thrown into stocks until they cooled off. Even though the stallions had yet to break into panic, they looked decidedly uncomfortable at their treatment.

“Hey!” Cucumber bellowed, her voice full of rage. “What are you ponies doing?!”

Startled by the sudden shout, everypony stopped and turned to face her.

"That's our cue," said the yellow stallion. "Exit, stage right!"

Cucumber watched, incredulous, as the stallion rushed to a group that had several colts laughing at the pair's mistreatment.

The green colt followed hastily and said, "Let's make like a tree and get back to the farm!"

The yellow stallion said, "Race you!"

Several mares took that as an invitation before Cucumber bellowed, "Don't even think about it!"

“But!” came a voice from the middle of the crowd.

“Don’t even think of it!” Cucumber repeated. “Your behavior is despicable. That’s no way to court a stallion.”

“But, they’re humans!” another mare declared.

Cucumber snapped, "That's no excuse! Are you all mindless succubae? Where's the respect your mothers taught you to give all stallions?" She growled. "They're not some mythological creatures; they're ponies!"

“You don’t understand,” called out Cherry Blush.

“Yeah!” Taro Root agreed. “They really are humans! They can just take pony form.”

“I don’t care!” Cucumber raged. “Everypony here deserves a night in the stocks for your crude behavior. Couldn't you see how miserable you were making those stallions?"”

“They didn’t look miserable to me,” Taro Root muttered.

“Minuette!” called Cheerilee as she appeared from down the street. “I’m glad I found you! I need your help.”

Glad for the interruption, Minuette said, “Sure, what do you need?”

Cheerilee rushed up to the blue mare and shoved a pouch with five small bottles at her. “Here, I need you to hold on to these for me and don’t give them back in the next couple days no matter how much I ask.”

“What are they?” Minuette asked, examining her new charges.

“Pepper-up potions,” Cheerilee replied. “I can’t stop to talk. Berry has passed out, and I’m not sure how long Carrot can handle Barnaby by herself. I need to get back.”

“Passed out?” Minuette asked.

“Yes,” Cheerilee called over her withers as she rushed back the way she came. “I’m starting to think three mares are not enough for one human stallion. There’s no way I’m going to be able to walk straight for a week after this.”

Cucumber blinked before addressing the spot her little sister had been standing. “You said they were human stallions?”

She needn’t have wasted her breath; her sister, as well as the other mares in the crowd were already in hot pursuit of the retreating stallions.

“Wait for me!” Minuette cried out, levitating the bottles alongside herself as she started to gallop. She only got about ten pony lengths before skidding to a halt and reversing course. As she passed Cucumber, she levitated the bottles to her. “Here, hold on to these for me,” she commanded before dashing after Cheerilee.





The slamming of the farmhouse door accomplished what a pink party pony had failed to do for the past half hour. It dispelled the suffocating despair that had hung heavily in the air. Everypony breathed a sigh of relief.

“Welcome back, boys,” Molly said, walking over to hug the two stallions responsible for the disruption. “Did you get the yeast?”

“Percy has it,” Bill said. “He and the twins should be coming along shortly.”

“They didn’t have to run for it,” Charlie added as he barred the door.

“Are the local mares giving you some trouble?” Twilight asked. “There has been some ‘human stallion’ mania going around lately with all the rumors of how accommodating Barnaby Lee is being.”

"Do you suppose we could owl the lot of them to my work site in Egypt?" asked Bill. "After all, there are seven seriously lonely lads working over the break, and they did say they were desperate."

“If you do that, you need to figure out a way to get pictures,” Sirius said. “I may have a few ideas.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Molly scolded.

“I think it’s a marvelous idea,” Sirius countered.

“You will not be owling any mares,” Molly sternly said.

“Spoilsport,” Sirius muttered.

The sound of muffled wings announced Hedwig's arrival from an orthogonal dimension. "You're right on time," said Twilight. "Thank you for bringing the other guests." Turning to her husband, she said, "Sirius, would you mind casting the expansion charm before I let them out? I'm still having problems with the failsafes."

"No problem." He waved his wand. "Capacious extremis!" Walls, floor, and ceiling seemed to stretch, quintupling the room's size."

Twilight tapped the clasp on the pouch with her horn and said, "Ex dimittere."

The windows of the farmhouse rattled as the pouch noisily disgorged its contents. The nearest neighbors started gossiping about baked bads.

Eva and Rosie flew out in the their pegasus forms while their parents and grandparents, Seamus's parents, and Elisa tumbled to the floor.

As the adults picked themselves up, Twilight said, "Happy Hearth's Warming, everypony! I'm so glad you could all make it."

After the others gave their greetings, Elisa said, "Happy Christmas." Looking over to a corner, she asked, "Is something wrong with Applejack? It looks like that cloud over her head is about to dump on her."

“Don’t mind her none,” Granny said. “She’s had a shock, though that’s no excuse to fergit her manners.”

“Sorry Granny,” Applejack said, stepping forward. “And sorry everypony fer not being all hospitable-like.”

Twilight absently unbarred the front door with her telekinesis in response to the knocking. The Crusaders trouped in. looking like refugees from a minstrel show. From the front of the pack, Scootaloo said, "Did you know there's a whole mess of wet mares heading into town? They sure looked disappointed for some reason."

Charlie shrugged. "I guess breaking the ice here is the same as a cold shower back home."

From behind Scootaloo, a formerly fuchsia foal piped up. "Looked like the twins and Percy were right behind us. They should be here in a few."

In a sharp voice, Granny said, "Hold it right there, young uns." The Crusaders froze. "There's a tub in the barn. Go clean yourselves off before you track any more soot into the house."

Giving his wand a quick twirl, Sirius said, "I got this." He started casting scourgify, fanning his wand like a gunslinger before each target. He had scarcely vanished the last of the soot when the next group entered.

With surprising agility, Molly vaulted over Harry. “It’s about time you got back,” she said, getting on her knees to hug the first unicorn within reach. “I’ve missed the lot of you. The house is much too quiet with you all off at Hogwarts.”

“Aaaaw mum!” George complained as he was cuddled.

Molly let him go to administer a hug to his twin before turning her attention to Percy. “Now, Percy, don’t you think it’s time to introduce me to these three young ladies?”

“Father told you?” Percy guessed.

“Granny let it slip,” Molly said. “You’re much too young, but what is done is done. I’ve had time to cool down; we’ll have a talk later.”

Percy was just starting the introductions when another owl appeared.

“Who’s this?” Twilight asked reaching for the pouch. “Rarity, Bon Bon and Lyra aren't due for another half hour.” She touched her horn to the clasp. "Ex dimittere."

In an odd parody of a scene from a fraternity party, the pouch noisily retched and regurgitated its contents.

“It bears repeating,” the man said, picking himself off the ground. “We need a more dignified method of travel.”

“Severus Snape!” Applejack shuddered, immediately turning her back and lowering her head in shame.

“Applejack,” Severus whispered, hurrying over to her. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you distress.”

“Ah . . . Ah didn’t know.” Applejack’s voice was almost imperceptible. “Y'all must think Ah’m a bad pony fer . . .”

“I do not think you are a bad pony,” Severus interrupted. “From what I can gather, this took you by surprise, just as it did me.”

Applejack nodded, neither saying a word nor opening her eyes.

“Then no one is to blame,” Severus said.

Applejack raised glistening eyes to meet his. “Yer not mad?”

“Even if I were, I’ve learned not to direct my anger at those I care about."

Applejack gave a wan smile. “Even if’n a part of me is happy that it happened?”

Severus started to move to hug her, hesitated with indecision, then finished the maneuver. “I am overjoyed and proud that you are my wife. I only hope I can live up to being a worthy husband.”

Startled, Applejack stood like a statue for a few seconds, then she returned the hug.

“What’s happening here?” Scootaloo whispered to the oldest mare in the room.

“Apple Bloom got herself a new brother-in-law.”

“What!” squeaked the Crusaders. As one, they turned with everyone else to look in shock at the largest red stallion in the room. Somehow, he'd managed to harmonize with them one octave higher.





Christmas Eve was a special time in the tiny studio apartment. It was a time for friends. It was a time for family. It was a time for holiday cheer. It was time for everything that was missing from that drab room.

Smoke curled lazily from the cigarette in her left hand as she struggled with the evil spirits that had ruined her life. The mongrel mix in the waxed paper cup in her right hand was a small sample of the beast. She had thought it had made her invincible. With its power, she had thought that she could do anything. She had thought that she could say anything. She had been wrong. She had caused so much pain and hurt so many people that even her family would have nothing to do with her; they had left the state just to get away from her.

It had been four years since she had broken free of its grasp; the lure of forced euphoria had cost her everything -- friends, family, dignity. Digging her way out had not been easy. Even now, she would allow herself a taste on the bad days -- one taste, and no more. She would not let herself be a slave again.

She contemplated the cup in her right hand. As bad days went, this was one of the worst. Surely, there was no better time to ease the pain. The cup was half way to her lips when she stopped. Snarling, she hurled the cup in the general direction of the sink, untasted. Growling, she backhanded the open bottle of rotgut, splashing a malodorous trail from the table to the floor.

Deliberately, she touched the smoldering butt in her left hand to the spill. She had been too fast; the liquid snuffed it out before it could burn. With a sigh, she crushed the sodden mess in the ashtray before letting her head fall onto her crossed arms on the table. It was time for another holiday tradition, the cry of the forsaken.

She had scarcely heard the sound of snapping fingers when the sound of a gasp and an almost-forgotten voice broke her out of her reverie. Could it really have been a decade since she last heard it?

“Samantha! Is that you? Oh my god! Samantha!”

She raised her head, no longer at the table she had dropped it on. She was no longer in her run-down apartment. Instead, she was in a modest home, and there was someone she never thought to see again. “Amanda?”

“Sam!” Her arms where filled, as was her heart. The building tears finally came, though without the expected grief.

Nearby, three individuals watched, slightly out of phase with the reality, unseen and unheard by the reunited sisters.

“Voila!” Discord spread his arms wide triumphantly. “Random act of kindness number twelve.”

Alice beamed while Fluttershy rather predictably leapt into his open arms. “This is the best Hearth's Warming present I have ever received.” She sobbed at him. “Thank you.”

“Only the best for you my dear,” Discord said. “Now, I do believe that your friends are having an impromptu gathering; what do you say we crash the party?” With another snap of his fingers, they were gone.





The grand ballroom in Canterlot Palace was abuzz with excitement. One very fake pony had been declared one very real princess, and this was her debut to Canterlot's nobility. As she politely greeted pony after pony, Clouded Hope could not have been happier at what her life had become. What had started as a routine infiltration mission had evolved into a dream come true. She was not impersonating a princess of Equestria at this party. With her aunts and mother in high-level discussions with the humans, it fell upon her to be the official host of the Hearth's Warming Eve party. She was Princess Clouded Hope, adoptive daughter of Princess (and Queen pro tempore) Mi Amore Candenza and Prince Shining Armor.

When the truth of her identity had come out, she had expected to lose everything she had stolen with her lies. Pony title, pony mother, pony father, and pony family, by all rights should have been taken from her; they were never really her own. At least that was the case until they had accepted her into their hearts. The senior princesses had blessed the adoption. She would never be a hive queen; she was now and forever more a princess.

She was from a species where fatherhood was meaningless. Among her kind, she alone could honestly boast that she had a father of her own. He stood proudly beside her, helping her welcome the guests. It was sheer bliss soaking in his love.

The ponies were lining up to meet her, lining up to give her their love.

The night was going perfectly, but habits from a life of danger never go away. Habits from a life of danger were the only things that kept her alive.

Others had seen a yellow unicorn. Clouded had seen death incarnate. The mare had pushed past the queued ponies; her horn had been glowing with the promise of lethal force. Clouded had recognized the threat and vaulted away before any of her guardians could react.

“What are you doing in my territory!” the mare had bellowed, releasing pent up death in the form of a glowing sphere. It would have been the end of Clouded if not for an attentive guard who had yanked the young Princess out of the way with a burst of aqua magic. The spell had left a nasty track in her fur before blasting a hole through the wall.

Suddenly, Clouded's world took on a magenta tint. Her father's magic formed around her, unwavering and unbreakable.

“I will not be denied!” the yellow mare yelled, charging her horn for a second strike. Guard after guard leapt on top of her, burying her in a pile of muscle and armor. An eerie silence fell over the room before a flash erupted from underneath, flinging the guards well away. Once more, the horn began to charge.

“You . . . Do . . . NOT . . . BELONG . . . HEEEEERE!”

The hatred of a queen shot from her horn. The love of a father sprang from Shining's. The two met in the middle. The world went white.
> Chapter 93: Meetings Madness and Methods
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Among muggle governments, balls were never held for pleasure; such a concept could never be publicly acknowledged. There always had to be some official occasion. The importance of which could be assessed by the budget allocated. New furnishings and gourmet fare were indicative of most important of functions. Recycled decorations and convenience store consumables spoke of more mundane matters.

In the wizarding world, obliviators normally removed the more embarrassing official faux pas. Creativity, not budget, constrained how their balls were held, and the Unspeakables were responsible for orchestrating them, including both planning and logistics. One Minister, whose name had somehow been erased from the records, had instructed the planners to go wild. For the next iteration, the planners had also been instructed to keep things safe. As a result of a few roasted chestnuts, the set of instructions for the next gathering forbade dragons, showing that safety was a matter of perspective. The most senior of the witches and wizards could attest that dragon party pranks are not for the faint of heart or flammable of clothing.

The planners of this year's Winter Ball had learned from the mistakes of their predecessors. The sensible witch who headed the planning committee had vetoed the inclusion of the yeti, keeping the theme aligned with winter wonderland, rather than winter horror. Despite grumbling about the relatively mundane theming, the venue was still breathtaking. The ballroom looked like something out of a fairytale. A blanket of enchanted snow with melting point set to tropical levels covered the floor. Arctic fairies flitted about, leaving sparkles in their wake. The furnishings were trimmed with holiday finery, evoking the spirit of the season.

This ball was most definitely not being held for pleasure. It was tailored to serve as part of the integration process for a group of refugees. These women had undergone months of intensive training in the customs of their new home, and this was an opportunity for them to safely test their comprehension of their lessons.

Their numbers had been thinned by the diversion of some into a more personal tutoring program. The eight formerly-unattached male instructors had shared more than knowledge and had, consequently, found themselves unwittingly married many times over. Their brides had thrived with the personalized lessons, and they were now serving as liaisons to make the lessons more understandable for their fellow refugees.

Despite the awkwardness of the head of the new Department of Interdimensional Affairs absconding with the Minister and vanishing into an owl's pouch, a sense of joy that had nothing to do with the holidays filled the air. It was an opportunity for the refugees to relax, and the others were doing their best to help them fit in.

Some, like the matron of the Winterwrite family, had ulterior motives for their participation. She walked up to a pair and said, "Hello dears, my name is Ophelia Winterwrite. I must say that it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hello Ophelia, it’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Indigo!” chided Candied Clove. “Remember what we’ve learned about human naming conventions and forms of address." Turning, she continued. "It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Winterwrite.”

Ophelia gave a gentle laugh. “Don’t worry. You may call me Ophelia, and I must say I do love your hair.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Winterwrite.”

Indigo winced at the thump on her arm. Candied Clove hissed, “She just asked you to call her Ophelia.”

“Would you make up your mind?” grumbled Indigo.

Candied Clove gave an exasperated sigh as she rolled her eyes.

Ophelia said, “Well, dearies, allow me to introduce you to my son, Tarquin.”

“Hellooooo Tarquin,” crooned the two refugees.

“Hello, ladies,” said Tarquin stiffly.

“This is Indigo Pollen and my name is Candied Clove.”

“Your names are as charming as your hair,” Ophelia said.

“Thank you,” replied the two.

“Tarquin here was just commenting on how well your colors complement each other; that’s why we decided to come over and introduce ourselves.”

“Mother!”

“He’s available you know,” Ophelia continued, unperturbed.

“I am not. I’m in a relationship,” insisted Tarquin.

“You mean with Estienne?” Ophelia waved her hand dismissively. “He’s going through a phase,” she stage-whispered conspiratorially toward the two ex-ponies.

“It’s not a phase, mother. If it weren’t illegal, we’d already be married.”

“You’d never give me grandchildren that way,” snorted Ophelia.

“Mother.” Ill-concealed anger coated the voice.

“Wait, are you saying that we'd have to take both of them together?” asked Indigo. She winced when she was again thumped on the arm.

“Indigo, stop drooling!" hissed Candied Clove.

A wide smile appeared. “Why yes, I suppose you could look at it that way,” Ophelia said.

“Mother!”

“That wouldn’t be a problem, would it?” asked Ophelia.

“No . . . no . . . not a problem.”

“Yes, it’s a problem.” Tarquin interrupted. “Estienne and I are very happy together.”

“I fail to see what the problem is,” Ophelia countered. “This way, everyone is happy. You get more companionship and I get grandchildren.”

“Mother!”

“If we’re not enough mares . . . err women, we could join with Red’s herd and bring it up to five… all the more to take care of you and Estienne,” Indigo suggested.

“You’d do that?” Ophelia asked hopefully.

“In a heartbeat,” Indigo said.

“Don’t I have a choice in the matter?” Tarquin demanded.

“The way I see it, you're getting five choices -- six if you count Estienne,” Ophelia said.

Tarquin didn’t bother replying, he just huffed and strode away.

Indigo took two steps in his direction before a firm grip on her arm halted her progress. “Where do you think you’re going?” snarled Candied Clove.

“There are two of them!” Indigo explained.

“It’s not worth getting exiled again.”

“But! There are TWO of them!”

“Go ahead dearies,” Ophelia said. “There's nothing illegal about talking.”

“Are you sure?”

Ophelia snorted. “Talk is free. If I could get away with it, I’d stun him and Estienne myself and deliver them to you.”

“That’s kind of why we were exiled in the first place. I don’t think we get a third chance,” explained Candied Clove.

“You needn’t worry.” Ophelia said. “As long as you do no permanent harm, no one will raise a fuss. Line continuation is serious business, so you’ll have the law backing you with my blessing.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” said Indigo.

“Indigo, get back here! This is a bad idea!” As Candied Clove chased after her herdmate, a germ of an idea began to form. Maybe there was a carrot she could dangle in front of Tarquin and Estienne.





Christmas Eve was supposed to be a time for family and friends. This wasn’t always the case for the staff at Hogwarts. This year was more hectic than most. There was just so much to do with the imminent onslaught of new students, the first ever midterm influx of new pupils, an influx that would be made up entirely of muggle-born . . . and one pony. Consequently, the faculty lounge was filled to capacity with staff both old and new. Lesson plans didn’t write themselves. Schedules didn't arrange themselves. New concepts from the pony world didn't integrate themselves into the curriculum.

In what appeared to be a choreographed response, everyone’s heads raised and turned when the door to the chamber opened to admit Professor McGonagall.

“Welcome back, Minerva,” Filius said from where he sat next to his wife Paola. “How did your urgent business go? I see you returned without Severus. Will you tell us what that was all about now?”

“Let’s just say our potions master has had a change of status,” Minerva said.

“Change?” Pomona asked.

“I’ll put it this way; who picked December as the month Severus would end up married to both Zecora and Applejack?”

“That would be me,” Professor Trelawney replied in an unnaturally chipper tone.

“You may collect your winnings from Filius at his earliest convenience,” Minerva replied. "The betting pool has been fully funded since October."

Shocked silence dominated the room for several seconds before Professor Babbling said. “That is . . .”

“Unexpected.,” added Professor Vector.

“Obviously it wasn’t,” Professor Goodman countered. “Sybil is making off with more of our money.”

“Lucky guess.” Professor Trelawney shrugged dismisivly.

The other staff all eyed her suspiciously.

With a sigh, Filius asked Minerva his next question. “Were you able to track down Albus, or are we to continue without him?”

Minerva pursed her lips in a tight frown. “He was kidnapped and will not be available for the foreseeable future.”

“Pay up!” Sybil demanded of the room in general.

“Would somepony please tell me why the buck we’re betting against someone whose job is to literally predict the future?” Fizzlepop demanded, introducing her face to her hoof.

“She’s not normally this accurate,” Pomona said softly.

“Me, I was just skeptical over the whole betting on whether the headmaster would show up tonight,” said the new muggle studies professor.

“Why did you bet Dumbledore, of all people, would be kidnapped?” Professor Vector asked.

“Eh, it worked for Severus earlier.” Sybil shrugged again.

“Yes, but this is Dumbledore we’re talking about here,” Professor Babbling said. “He has single-wandedly fought off an army of darkness.”

“And yet, here we are,” Goodman said. “Do they have any idea who did it or why?”

“They suspect a rock.” Minerva said.

“A roc?” Goodman asked. “How is it they only suspect a roc? Something that big should have been pretty obvious."

"The DMLE is pretty sure. However, they have to be careful not to give the barristers any ammunition. After all, it was caught practically red-handed at the scene after Albus vanished." Minerva frowned. "Of course, it didn't have hands.

"What a horrible way to go." Pomona all but sobbed. "I know we all had our disagreements with him, but he didn't deserve to be swallowed up whole."

"Don't be silly," said Minerva. "That rock couldn't have swallowed a grown man whole."

Goodman shuddered. "How ghastly! It must have torn him up and eaten him bit by bit. I want to know what one is doing so far north."

“I’m pretty sure it was an Equestrian rock,” Minerva said. “And I have no idea how it got here.”

“Those things are nasty,” Fizzlepop replied. “I’ve seen one take off with a goat before; his poor wife was inconsolable. Something that big has no business moving so fast. I understand that they prey on baby dragons even though they are near impossible to hurt.”

“He and his friends weren’t that big,” Minerva said. “Only about the size of my fist.”

"That's more the size of a sparrow," said Filius. "How did it manage to carry Albus off?"

"Was it African or European?" asked the muggle studies professor.

The other professors looked at him quizzically.

“What I mean is the headmaster must weigh a good deal more than a coconut,” the muggle studies professor clarified.

The staring continued.

“Never mind. You were saying that a roc made off with the headmaster?”

“The aurors aren’t sure how it made off with our headmaster,” Minerva admitted. “I must say, you are all taking the news much more calmly than I would have suspected.”

“Are you kidding?” Professor Vector said. “With our impossible workloads, Poppy has been handing out calming potions like they were mugs of cocoa. Would you like one?”

“I may actually take you up on that offer,” Minerva confirmed.

“Back on subject. Albus was attacked by a pint-sized roc?” Filius asked. “How do they know it was from Equestria?”

“Educated guess,” Minerva said. “I met one in the garden at the Canterlot palace.”

“The princesses have a pet roc?” Fizzlepop asked. “I know they are supposed to have all kinds of wildlife in there, but a roc? The turnover for caretakers must be murderous, literally murderous.”

“That’s it,” Professor Weiss said to the pony in the room. “No more calming potions for you. That’s the second time you’ve misused the word ‘literally’ in three minutes, and you don’t normally use it.”

Pomona declared, "That means Sybil didn’t win, this was a vicious animal attack, not a kidnapping."

The proverbial light switch went off in Minerva’s head. “Just a minute. I’m talking about a rock, not a roc.”

“Huh?” said more than one voice.

“R. O. C. K.” Minerva spelled. “As in mineral, not animal.”

“Oh!” said the other professors in the room.

“That makes more sense,” Professor Babbling added.

“I know I’m new to the magic thing, but I must say that makes less sense to me,” said the muggle studies professor.

“I just can’t see a roc sneaking up on Albus; I would think a rock would have a better time of it,” Professor Babbling said.

“Because they are known for their subterfuge,” the muggle studies professor said sarcastically. “Instead of, I don’t know, sitting around all day.”

“Ironically, the rock brought up a similar point.” Minerva said.

“Does this mean we’re back on kidnapping instead of a vicious animal attack?” Trelawney asked hopefully.

“I don’t know about that,” Professor Vector replied.

“When was the last time you saw a vicious rock?” Trelawney pressed.

“Well.”

“For that matter, rocks don’t count as animals. Like Minerva said; mineral,” Trelawney added.

Goodman interrupted. “So, you met the rock at the pony palace.”

“I would be positive that it was the exact same stone if not for the two exact copies accompanying it. As it is, I’m not sure how many of them there might be.”

“So, Albus got jumped by a pile of rocks?” Professor Weiss asked.

“And a potted plant.”

“What?” asked several voices.

“I know.” Minerva nodded. “The plant caught me off guard as well.

“I hope I’m not the only one having problems with this revelation,” said the muggle studies professor.

“Minerva.”

“Yes, Filius?”

“You are aware that the holiday is Christmas not Huntigowk Day?”

Minerva looked at the professors staring at her with unblinking eyes. “How many potions have you had?” she asked.

“Poppy gave us all one dose,” Fizzlepop replied.

It was Minerva’s turn to stare. Paola, not being a rock, caved in. “We may have raided her stores afterwards. It’s been a stressful week.”

“You raided Poppy’s stores?” Minerva’s face was stony. “How did you manage that?”

“There may have been some distractions employed,” Goodman said.

“I’m going to go have a word with Poppy,” Minerva said. “Nobody leave this room.” In direct defiance of her own words, she left the room only to come back a few seconds later. “Give me all that’s left,” she said, holding out her hand.





In the improvised isolation ward at Ponyville General, the party was winding down when the jingle of sleigh bells announced the arrival of Mayor Mare. Her aide followed closely on her hooves, carrying a pile of colorful packages on his back.

Taking in the general mood, the Mayor called out. “Happy Hearth's Warming!”

Patients and visitors alike returned her heart-felt greeting.

“I realize that this might not be the most appropriate time, considering the unexpected medical situation,” Mare Mayor said. “but I have a few presents here that would be better given sooner, rather than later.

This announcement gained the undivided attention of all of the younger ones.

“You got us presents?” Hermione asked. “How kind of you.”

“They are from the entire town,” the Mayor admitted. “It was a group effort.”

The aide hoofed an orange package to Scootaloo; the air holes were conspicuous.

“Ooooh, thank you,” Scootaloo said, accepting the gift.

“I must say this is very kind of you,” Rarity said as the aide passed out more boxes. “What brought this on?”

“With Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom having Magah and Fluffy, we didn’t want the rest of their herd getting jealous over not having pets of their own,” Mayor Mare said.

“Magah is not a pet!” Sweetie protested.

“She’s not a pony either,” Scootaloo said, ripping open her present. “Oh, that’s cute. What is it?”

Pinkie looked over the foal’s shoulder and gave a gasp. Her hair shot straight up, dislodging a crate of firewhisky.

“Relax Pinkie,” Mayor Mare said. “They aren’t parasprites; the human store clerk said they were completely harmless.”

“What is it?” Scootaloo repeated, scooping a ball of fur out of the package.

“It’s a puffskein.” Lavender said, carefully undoing the tape on her own gift. “If you stroke it, it’ll purr for you.”

Scootaloo brought the tiny puffball closer to her muzzle to examine it. “A furry, wingless, legless parasprite with beady eyes,” she commented. “Does it do anything?”

Suddenly, a long skinny tongue whipped out of the small creature’s mouth and buried itself in Scootaloo’s right nostril.

“Eeeeeek!”

“Careful,” Ginny said. “They like to eat boogies.”

“These are some very thoughtful gifts,” Rarity noted as she watched Harry liberate his puffskein from its box.

“The townsponies wanted the foals to have them,” Mayor Mare stated.

“Never let it be said that the ponies of Ponyville are completely without any sense of self-preservation,” Twilight quipped.

“I don’t know,” Rainbow said. “They look kinda boring.”

“Ah think that thar is the idea,” Applejack whispered to her.

“Why is my present pink?” Dean whined.

“They match your coat color,” the mayor said. “Makes it easier to see who gets which.”

“Oh,” Dean said dejectedly.

“Cheer up,” Parvati said. “You’ve been waiting for Twilight to talk to a nurse to learn the color changing spell; well, there’s a nurse standing not five feet from you. Why don’t you ask her to cast it on you?”

“That’s a good idea!” Dean turned a pleading look on the nurse in question.

“I don’t know . . .” the nurse started.

“Pleeeease!” Dean whined.

“It couldn’t hurt,” the nurse said, charging her horn. “Hold still.”

“Thank you!” Dean excitedly exclaimed.

A beam of light shot from the nurse’s horn and struck the hyperactive colt.

“Did it work? Did it work?” Dean raised a leg to examine. “It didn’t work!”

The nurse stood stock still with wide-open eyes. “I swear, his magic just screamed ‘I’m fuchsia, not pink!’ at me.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Dean added his own scream.

“You’re scaring your puffskein,” Sweetie warned him.

“I don’t care!” Dean snapped. “It’s just a useless furball; I’m stuck this way!”

“Well, Ah think it’s cute an’ so are you,” Apple Bloom said from the other side of the magical shield where she and the rest of the patients stood gathered. “They don’t hold no lick ta Fluffy, but they sure are urrrrp!”

Startled, the ponies watched as all of the patients started burping. To everypony's horror, the burps turned into something more substantial; objects started flying out of the quarantined ponies’ mouths.

“Are those cupcakes?” Elisa worriedly asked.

“Why do they have fangs?” shrieked Molly.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this.” Pinkie shrieked. “They aren't baked goods! They aren't even baked bads! They're baked evils!”

“Looks like Emma wasn’t too far off with the ‘magical tapeworms’ theory,” Twilight said as the possessed pastries proliferated.





The estrogen levels in the Apple Family farmhouse had faded to nothing as the men stared at the lone stallion in the room.

“Are you going to tell us why you held us back while the women and children went off to the hospital?” Remus asked.

“Are you planning on laying down the law on Severus?” Sirius asked hopefully.

“Eenope.”

“Pity, I wanted to see that,” Sirius said while Severus let out a relieved sigh that his occlumency could not contain.

“You really looked like you were serious when you kept us back,” Bill stated.

“But I’m Sirius. He looks nothing like me.”

“You just can’t let any opportunities pass you by, can you,” Remus said.

“Eenope,” replied Sirius.

Dan asked, "Should we call Applejack back to interpret?"

"Why would we need an interpreter?" asked Severus.

"Big Mac generally uses sentences of one syllable or less," replied Sirius.

"No need," replied the stallion. "Sweetie brought another human-side unicorn home with her. This one attacked a foal before making a run fer it inta the Everfree. I need to track it down before somepony gets hurt.”

"You can speak?" Sirius said, shocked.

“Do not disparage my brother-in-law,” Severus warned.

“Now look here, Snivelous.” Sirius snapped.

“Sirius!” Remus interrupted. “Now is not the time. You heard Mac; we have a situation to handle first. You and Severus can hash out your differences later.”

“That’s very mature of you, Lupin,” Severus sneered.

“I sense some history here,” Dan said.

“A lot of bad blood,” Remus admitted. “Neither side is free of blame, but I fear we were the instigators. Reconciliation is going to take a lot of effort from all involved.”

“Remus!” Sirius had the accusation of betrayal in his voice.

“Sorry, Sirius.” Remus grimaced. “We should have stopped this years ago; it's the right thing to do. Besides, what's more important to you, your marriage or some childhood grudge?"

“You are finally reining in your friends?” Severus said. “To say that is overdue would be sadly understated.”

“Stop it!” Dan snapped. “You two can go behind the barn and duke it out later. We have more important things to tackle right now.”

“Fine,” Sirius snarled. “I can be civil.”

“That remains to be seen,” Severus said.

“Professor Snape,” Dan interrupted, “that means you, too. Now, put that wand away and let's grab a map. We’ll break into two search parties.”

“Nope.” Big Mac countered. “Snow on the ground.”

“Huh?” Remus said. “Oh yeah, that’s going to make it easier to track the unicorn down. We should get Hagrid here to help.”

“He’s too big for an owl pouch,” Severus said.

“How’d they get Fluffy here then?” Sirius asked.

“Their phoenix,” Severus stated. “Something is going to have to be done about that bird next semester; I’m almost positive they are sneaking off campus with it.”

“I can confirm that,” Dan said. “I hate to say it, but I think Mr. Discord is encouraging them there. However, he does seem to be keeping a close eye on them as well. The rings he gave them alert him to danger.”

“Wonderful,” Severus said. “The most effective mode of travel is in the hands of eleven-year-old children. I am going to place tracking charms on the lot of them.”

“Let’s go get the unicorn. These discussions can wait,” Charlie said.

Remus said, "At least the children left their brooms."

Sirius replied, "No offense, Moonie, but some of us can't see in the dark, and the unicorn is sure to run from the light."

Bill said, "We should be fine if we go slow."

Big Mac shrugged. "Best hurry. Monsters come out at night."

Swiftly, the brooms were distributed. Dan eyed his critically. "Which way do you twist to open the throttle?"





The scene in the ballroom was pure pandemonium as ponies fled, screaming. Inside her protective bubble, Clouded Hope was ignorant of the chaos outside. Her ears were still ringing as she blinked away the spots in front of her eyes. She could make out a white blob in front of her on the other side of her shield.

“You dare!” she heard from somewhere beyond the blob. “This does not concern you! It is in my territory! It is my rightful prey!”

“Princess Luna should never have let you walk away,” Shining Armor shouted as the blob resolved itself into his body.

Clouded felt the thundering of fleeing hooves as the queen shouted, "This is not a pony affair! Step aside, or I will make you regret it."

"Never!"

"Then die!"

Around the room, as if reacting to an unseen signal, several guards abandoned the evacuation and turned their attention to the combatants. From their horns, powerful bolts of magic lanced toward the stallion, smashing against his shield and forcing him aside. Standing tall, the yellow unicorn pooled all of her magic preparing for a concentrated blast.

The lethal blow never came, instead a beam of cyan magic spoiled her aim, blasting her from her stance. With a primal scream, the newest combatant announced herself. "Murderer!"

Battered, the unicorn skidded across the floor before coming to a disjointed halt. A gasp was all she managed before throwing up a shield barely in time to deflect four rapidly approaching pink hooves. Inside her bubble, Clouded bounced as her adoptive mother's attack cratered the marble floor.

There was desperation in her voice when the yellow unicorn screamed, "To me!" Speckled around the ballroom, traitorous guards struggled to comply as they fought against their former allies. The yellow unicorn dodged a cyan blast from Cadance, only to find herself in the path of a magenta lance originating from Shining Armor. In an act of desperation, one of the rogue guards broke free and flung himself into the path of the spell.  A shrill shriek heralded his success as he took the full brunt of the attack just before it reached the queen; his body disintegrated against her shield with a sickening sizzle.

The unicorn screamed in frustration. This time it wasn’t an offensive spell to light her horn; once more, the world went white, blinding all onlookers. Her voice faded toward the windows as she screamed, "To me! To me! To me!"

Cadance and Shining Armor raced to the window. Desperately scanning the darkness, Shining Armor exclaimed, "They're gone!"

Grimly, Cadance said, "No. Shining, I can still sense her; lend me your magic." Magenta magic wrapped around the mare and spiraled to the tip of her horn, wrapping around the cyan ball that was forming. Cadance intoned, "To protect my child, I fight with you. From a mother's heart, I strike at you. For love's sake, I cast you out!" The ball of combined magic shot from her horn and wove drunkenly through the night sky.

High above, away from prying eyes, the changelings had dropped their disguises. The retreating queen risked a backward glance. She snorted in derision as a bright spot shot from the ground and veered away from her. As she and her swarm continued, she saw it turn back and overshoot in the other direction. Her eyes widened as it turned back again. "Evasive maneuvers!" she screamed. The ball grew larger at an alarming rate as the time between turns grew ever shorter. Despite her desperate weaving, the ball kept homing in on her. Eventually, parents’ love made its opinion known about the queen’s hate.

From the ballroom's window, the explosion seemed to fill the night sky like the world's largest skyrocket.
> Chapter 94: Winter Wonderland Wanderings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Failure was not an option; it was a fact of life. Queen Shimmering Wing grumbled to herself as she limped through the labyrinth of tunnels that she had not traversed in over seven years. Her cover as a wealthy socialite had been a testament to the comfort and security that she had enjoyed since eradicating the rival swarms from her territory. Scout after scout, spy after spy, rival after rival, all who might challenge her position had been summarily dispatched. She had thought she was invulnerable. She now knew she was wrong.

The evening had served to underscore that her position was in mortal peril. As humiliating as her defeat had been, it was not her food that concerned her. Everypony would be on the lookout for the yellow unicorn. Nopony would suspect the pony she would become. After all, "trusting" was synonymous with "ponykind".

The real threat was the rival hive that clearly had aspirations on her territory. There could be no other explanation for the imposter. It sickened her to see that an innocent child had been displaced. Only the most desperate would attempt an act so reprehensible, or so risky. While she respected the boldness Chrysalis had shown to plant an agent so close to the Princess of Food, such villainy cried out for justice.

Silently, she berated herself for letting her emotions get the better of her. She should have realized that the foalnapped princess was not the only victim. The stallion had no way of knowing that his own flesh and blood had been replaced by an imposter. The same could be said for the Princess of Food.

Despite the disastrous outcome, the queen still counted her blessings. The alicorn's spell had shattered her shield, but instead of vaporizing her, it had flung her well outside the vicinity of the capital. The resulting landing had been far from gentle; spiderwebs of cracks on her carapace bore mute witness to the strength of the impact.

The fallout from those few minutes of discomposure would leave its marks, and not just the matching pair of horseshoe-shaped indentations on the carapace covering her rump. She could count on the typical pony to forget all about the incident in a few months. The elder princesses, however, were another matter entirely. They would not forget who had been the cause of the death of one of their subjects; they would not care that the incident had cost three of her own children. 

Now was the time to cut her losses before this misunderstanding escalated into something even worse. Sacrificing one pony to eliminate the spy was an acceptable, if dear, cost. Further jeopardizing the entire food supply was unacceptable. It was time to withdraw and regroup before dealing with the threat.

Her path was clear. Her first priority was to locate and return the real princess. Surely, even Chrysalis would not have been so dastardly as to have eaten the original. In the meantime, the imposter would be dispatched and replaced with one of her own. 

Her next priority was to contact the family of the fallen pony and to ease them through the grieving process. Her blunder was sure to slow food production, and there was little nourishment to be gained from mourning ponies. A little kindness and compassion were a small price to pay to ensure that her children did not starve.

Her most important job, however, was to beat her plowshares into swords. She could already foresee a siege. With their agent in place, a clash with the rival hive was simply a matter of time. Noling craved conflict, but the survival of the hive outweighed the desires of any individual, even the queen. Happiness meant nothing to a dead hive.

The whole situation was an unmitigated cluster buck.

Still, she was grateful that their shroud of secrecy was still intact, for the most part. Her spies had heard no mention of a changeling attack among the general populous. The night princess, however, was already aware that her hive was operating in the area. When she had accused Princess Luna of being Chrysalis in disguise, the response had been both swift and embarrassing. She had slunk away after the princess had smacked her in the muzzle with a pillow and demanded, "What color is my magic?" No further proof was needed.

For a moment, she contemplated explaining the situation to the elder princesses. It would be trivial for them to dispel the magic that the impostor was using to appear to be their niece. On further reflection, she decided that it simply wasn't worth the risk. It was far safer to work from the shadows as they had done from time immemorial. While the reward of the direct approach was great, the risk was greater. It was far better to risk losing a few agents than it was to ante up the entire hive.

Grim determination marked her steps as she strode toward the heart of her hive’s tunnels. Now was the time to prepare for war.

So focused on the mechanics was she that she somehow missed the telltale noises of hooves coming up behind her.

The voice that accompanied those hooves would not be denied, though. “Hello mother," it hissed. “We need to talk.”





Failure was not an option; it was an inevitability. Human lore was rife with stories of how a unicorn could be approached only by an innocent or a virgin. The gaggle of men on broomsticks and the large red stallion on the ground whom they followed did not qualify on either count. What was supposed to be a simple tracking exercise was doomed before it began, no matter how much the hunters would blame the fading light.

After passing what appeared to be the same tree for the umpteenth time, Severus deadpanned, "One would think that an overgrown canine would produce better results.”

“Unicorn magic makes them almost impossible to track,” Sirius countered. “Big Mac is doing just fine.”

“Lost 'im,” Big Mac said.

“If it were easy, muggles would stumble across them all the time,” Charlie said. “Unlike dragons, they're unaffected by wards meant to keep them contained. The only way to find one who doesn't want to be found is to collapse a cordon around them and hope you see it before it knows you're there. Even then, if you take your eyes off it, it'll vanish."

“They are wickedly fast,” Bill added.

“You could have told us before we started all this,” Dan said.

“Sorry, I thought everyone knew that,” Charlie replied.

“We really should have gotten Hagrid,” Remus grumbled.

“It’ll keep until morning,” Sirius said. “They aren’t exactly known for being nocturnal. We should be with our families for the holiday.”

“A grand display of responsibility,” Severus noted. “I can’t see it, so it’s not my problem.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Sirius snapped.

“Systematically search, as Mr. Weasley alluded,” Severus said dryly.

“Great idea. Let’s traipse around somewhere the locals say is dangerous in the dark looking for a creature known for being elusive and is currently on high alert,” Sirius growled. 

“He could hurt somepony.” Big Mac insisted.

“He’d have to head back to civilization for that,” Dan said. “Sirius is right; we’ll be more useful back at the farm. This is wasted effort.”

“He’s just being a lazy mutt,” Severus said.

“Give me just one reason not to hex you,” Sirius snarled.

“I’ve spent more than enough time suffering under your hexes,” Severus declared, brandishing his wand.

“Bring it!” Sirius brandished his own. 

“Enough!” Dan barked. 

The two men glared at the dentist.

“He started it” Sirius said.

“This is no time for a wand-measuring contest.” Dan gritted his teeth. “Both of you, give them to me before something is cast that we’ll all regret.”

“I don’t think . . .” Severus started.

“No, you don’t!” Dan snapped. “Wands! Now!”

After confiscating the two deadly weapons from their man-children, Dan pointed toward the ground. “All right, land there.”

“Are you going to make them stand in the corner?” Remus asked. “Because we are in the middle of a forest, and we’re notably lacking in corners.”

“I wasn’t joking about taking them out behind the barn and letting them go bare knuckles on each other,” Dan said.

“We’re lacking a barn as well,” Charlie stated.

Big Mac stared at the humans but said nothing. He had already depleted his monthly word allowance.

“Th . . . this is barbaric,” Severus stuttered. “You cannot be serious.”

“Of course, not; I am.”

“That tears it!” Severus yelled before taking Dan’s advice.

“I knew that joke would get him in trouble one day,” Remus said. 

“There’s low-hanging fruit, and then there’s rotting on the ground,” Bill said, watching the fists fly.

“I need to get my hands on a pensieve,” Charlie said. “If I can sell this memory to some Hogwarts alumni; I’ll make a small fortune.”

“What happens in the forest, stays in the forest,” Dan chided.

“Aren’t you going to stop them?” demanded a female voice.

As one, the watchers turned and beheld a pair of slitted grey pupils.

“Where’d you come from?” Charlie ventured.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you foals.” A shadow resolved itself into a pony with bat wings. “Whatever possessed you to go into the Everfree at dusk?”

“Are you here to kidnap Snape again?” Remus asked, ignoring her question.

“We haven’t figured out how to stop him from teleporting yet,” the mare admitted. “Plus, Princess Luna wasn’t too happy with us.” She raised a hoof and pointed at the combatants. “Aren’t you going to stop them?” she repeated.

Dan shrugged. “They need to get it out of their systems. Their wives are best friends, and they need to learn to get along.”

“Wives?” the mare asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Yup,” Bill confirmed.

“Buck,” the mare cursed. “That complicates things. It’s bad enough those two fillies are already in a herd.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Dan warned.

“We can play the long game,” the mare said. “How many more human thestrals are there? And are any of them unattached?” 

“I think I’m missing something here,” Bill said.

“The batpony gene pool is rather shallow,” Remus said. “They are looking to add some new water, so to speak. They already kidnapped Severus once with that aim in mind.”

The mare blinked and fixed her attention on Remus. “You humans really are blasé on the subject. I suppose I should have suspected that after Severus Snape refused to press charges.”

“Sirius!” Dan snapped. “No animal forms! You’ll leave scars with those teeth and claws! That goes for you too Severus! Those hooves can cause some real damage!”

“You aren’t going to stop them, are you?” the mare asked again.

“They’re winding down,” Charlie said. “I would have guessed they had more pent up anger than this.”

“Shouldn’t we be more wary of the pony spying on us?” Bill asked.

“I’m not the one letting another human pound on him,” the mare snapped. “I’m only here to observe and protect in case something happens.”

“What could possibly happen?” Charlie asked.

“We are in Monster Central after sunset,” the mare retorted.

“We had to find a unicorn,” Dan explained. “He’s a potential danger to foals.”

The mare snapped her attention to Dan. “You don’t mean that large stallion that headed back towards town a while back?”

The others stared at the mare in shock. “Wrap it up you two!” Charlie yelled. “We got a lead!”





As he shifted uncomfortably, Percy could scarcely believe that four short months ago, he was absolutely certain of the path his life would take. He had just become a prefect, and from there, it was an easy step to becoming Head Boy. He had been sure he could follow his father's footsteps into the Ministry and work his way up to the lofty heights of middle management. Never in a million years would he have dreamed that a visit by three little girls with colorful hair would eventually leave him a little horse. Never in a million years would he have dreamed that Cupid's arrow would leave three wound channels through his heart. Never in a million years would he have believed that he would be spending this Christmas Eve away from his parents and siblings.

He had first come as a stranger in a strange land, wearing the skin of a native. He had found himself in a world of beasts and beings. He had been surprised to learn that the visitors to the Burrow were among the latter. He had been surprised to find that their kind were lavishing him with the attention that their human counterparts withheld with prejudice. He had been uncomfortable with the attention. However, Gryffindor sensibilities had demanded that he jump in feet first and make the most of his opportunities. To his surprise, he had found he was now truly one of them; he was husband to three wives.

He had expected his father to berate him for thinking with the wrong head, despite the fact that the senior Weasley had, thankfully, taught him a contraceptive charm. Percy counted himself fortunate that he wouldn't have to worry about diaper changes and midnight feedings anytime soon. His father had been strangely understanding, telling him that hormones were a powerful influence. Regardless of the motivation, Percy had surprised himself with the realization that he had no regrets about his current status. Each of his wives had a distinct and engaging personality.

Marriage was supposed to be something in the far future. It was supposed to happen after he graduated. It was supposed to happen after he had established himself in the Ministry. It was supposed to happen after a long courtship. Now, he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. All of the details that were supposed to have been settled before the wedding had to be settled immediately, if not sooner. What plans he had for his life would have to be put on hold.

By wizarding law, he was now the head of a household. It was now his responsibility to see to its needs. He had to keep them fed. He had to keep them clothed. He had to keep them housed. He had to keep them happy.

Fortunately, money was not an issue. The stipend the Burrow's visitors had granted him would be more than enough for his basic needs. After all, his father's annual household budget was not that much more. Housing was a more immediate concern. He and his wives had been living as children on the cusp of adulthood, each living with their own families. They each had rooms that could not accommodate any more people. Besides, to live as newlyweds, they would need privacy that had to be found elsewhere. Somehow, he would have to find a way to accommodate his wives before the holidays ended.

He blinked. Wives. That word had come to the forefront of his mind more times in the last hour than he had thought possible. That also reminded him of his most immediate concern. Now that he was spending Hearth's Warming Eve at Dainty Lace's place, he had to do his best to impress her parents. After all, they were now his in-laws.

Her mother, Summer Melt, had welcomed him immediately. She had been immensely proud that her daughter had secured the future of the family line at such an early age, despite the fact that Dainty Lace and Percy were both still a few years from reaching legal majority. On the other hand, Dainty's father, Quick Stomp had been singularly unimpressed. Percy could swear he had already been called "leech", "deadbeat", and "aluminum digger".

Gryffindors did not back down. He would stand up to Quick Stomp. He would show that his wife made a good decision.

His wife.

He was married.

Sweet Merlin! He was married!





The culprits had made the mistake of exposing themselves. The unknown was impossible to remedy. Magical food poisoning, on the other hand, was no mystery to a wizarding nurse, a witch with many children, or a magical prodigy. Between Molly's assortment of elimination spells, Andi's medical skills, and Twilight's magical talent, a cure for the pastry parasites was quickly created and administered. With what seemed like a combination of supercharged ipecac and bisacodyl, the afflicted ponies quickly, colorfully, and embarrassingly rid themselves of the parasites while Molly dispatched the pests with prejudice.

Dean exclaimed, "Now that was a technicolor yawn!"

Hermione deadpanned, "That batch didn't come from the mouth."

One of the younger patients asked, "Is . . . is it over?"

Andi cast a quick diagnostic scan. "There's not a trace of cake to be found."

Dr. Horse said, "I guess that means you're all free to go home for the holidays."

The cheer that followed could be heard throughout Ponyville.

Once the other patients had left, a small army trooped from Ponyville General to Sweet Apple Acres. They crossed the threshold not long after night had fallen.

“We’re back.” Applejack called out from the front of the procession. “Problem’s taken care of.”

“Good ta hear,” Granny said from her rocker. Rosie and Eva sat next to her, wide-eyed. 

Rosie begged, "Another story, Granny? Please?"

The old green mare gave a chuckle. "You know the rules." She took a sip from her mug of hot cocoa. "It's your kin's turn to tell a story."

Ron trotted from behind Applejack and placed a furry ball on a side table before moving forward again. “That was a nightmare. Cupcakes and tentacles are a horrid combination.”

“I don’t know,” Dean said. “Some of them were cute, in an ugly sort of way.”

“And the evening wasn’t a complete loss,” Parvati said. “The town got us each a present.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “You’ll never guess what they got us.”

“Owl treats?” Dean’s father guessed.

“No.” Ginny giggled. “They got us puffskein.”

“Same difference, Ah reckon,” Granny said. “Y'all best keep 'em close if’n ya want 'em to last.”

“Huh?” Lavender asked, raising her own puffskein to examine it closer.

“Um,” said Sweetie looking behind herself. “Just how long is an owl’s tongue supposed to be?”

“What are you talking about?” Ron said, turning in Sweetie was looking. On the side table where he had left his new pet, Lodestone was perched, doing an impression of an owl slurping up a strand of pink spaghetti.

“No! Bad Lodestone!” Applejack cried out. “Give 'er back!”

“Hoo?” came the guilty reply.

Ron looked like he was about to explode for four seconds before deflating and letting out a sad sigh. “I’m pants at keeping pets.” He said dejectedly, “First Scabbers goes missing, and now my puffskein didn’t last long enough for me to give it a good name.”

“I think Owl Treat would be appropriate,” Seamus opined.

“Not funny,” Apple Bloom said. “Don’t ya worry none, Ron. Ah’ll get you something special like.”

“Scabbers wasn’t your fault either,” Ginny said. “He was really old.”

“Where are the boys?” Emma asked, noticing a distinct shortage of testosterone.

“They said they had some business to attend,” Dean’s mother said. “Promised they’d be back before it got too late.”

“Perhaps we should look behind the barn,” Andi suggested. “I don’t think Dan was joking when he mentioned that earlier.”

“They wouldn’t reeeeeally do that,” Pinkie said.

The females in the room all shared a look. “Rainbow, be a dear and go have a look,” Emma said into the silence.





“Kids!” Nissy called out, stuffing one last present into an owl’s pouch. “We’re running late as it is. I’m sure everyone else is already at the gathering.”

Spike and Draco rushed into the room as Nymphadora sedately followed. “Dad said he’ll be down in a few,” she said.

Nissy sighed and said, “If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Where’s your feathered gentleman?”

Nymphadora went red. “He went back to Canterlot. Why does everyone keep insisting that he’s my boyfriend? I told you we're just friends.”

“We don’t think he’s your boyfriend,” Draco said. “He told us he should be your c . . .”

“If you finish that sentence -- I don’t care if it’s proper or not -- I’m going to introduce your mouth to a bar of soap,” Nymphadora snapped.

“Don’t threaten your cousin,” Nissy admonished. “Besides, I think you two seem perfect together.”

“You're as bad as my mother.” Nymphadora pouted. “Honestly, what do you have against me being single?”

“We want you to be happy, and we can spot a good match when we see one,” Nissy said.

“We. Are. Just. Friends.” Nymphadora punctuated each word.

“If you say so, dear,” Nissy replied.





The large red stallion who floated above the dejected hunters was not amused. Earth ponies were meant to feel the ground under their hooves, not bob about like a child's balloon. Still, Big Macintosh had to admit that being towed after being struck by a levicorpus charm was a lot easier and quicker than trudging through the deep snow of the forest.

The other erstwhile hunters flew beneath him on brooms, line abreast, except for Dan, who was still struggling to control his broom fully. He gasped when his broom went inverted, but before he could fall, he was righted by what felt like a giant hand. An amused voice beside him said, "There you are."

"A dragon!" Dan exclaimed, staring at the source of the voice.

The figure beside him snorted. "There's no need to be insulting. No mere dragon could match my magnificence. I am a draconequus." Gesturing with his eagle's talon, he wrote in the air with burning purple letters. "Dra . . . con . . . equ . . . us."

Looking down, Big Macintosh said politely, "Howdy, Discord."

"You're Mr. Discord?" Dan yelped. "I should have recognized the voice. I never got to thank you for helping Hermione."

“Hello Dan,” said Discord. “We were late to the party, but, you know, distractions and all that. Anyways, your wife wanted me to check up on you. Soooo, are we out for drinks or maybe a round of knock-down, drag-out, rolling through the dirt good fun, like the girls are worrying over?” 
He dropped a horseshoe in each boxing glove before donning them and taking a few jabs at the innocent air in front of him.

“Sorry, you missed the fisticuffs,” Bill said as his brother Charlie examined the dragon-like appearance of their new friend. “Right now, we’re trying to prevent a unicorn from causing bodily harm to children.”

“Somepony is lacking the Hearth's Warming spirit.” Discord tsked. “Ah well, I might still get my chance at giving what for in that case.”

“It’s an innocent animal with some destructive instincts,” Charlie broke in. “We want to capture it with as little damage as possible.”

“Oh.” Discord deflated, letting out a hissing sound as his body wrinkled. “One of those unicorn wannabes from your world. It would appear that we are playing at being glorified dog catchers, then.”

“Can we hurry?” Sirius asked. “We're really late to the party, and I’m sure Big Mac wants his feet back on the ground.”

“Hooves.”

“Ponyville isn’t that small,” Severus said as they approached the outskirts of civilization. “How do you propose we go about this?”

“Listen for screaming?” Sirius suggested. “If that fails, ask the locals if they’ve seen a large white stallion doing an impression of a mime, minus the makeup.”

“He’s over there,” A mare appeared from the umbra of Discord's shadow.

“How can you tell?” Charlie asked.

“The horn sticking through the thatched roof is a dead giveaway.” The speaker melted back into the darkness.

“Impressive.” Discord donned a thermal imaging headset and began surveying the spot the mare had just vacated. “I did not realize she was there until she spoke up. Midair, no less.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Sirius said, swooping down to the building the batpony had pointed out. “It’s a pub,” he added, pointing at the sign hanging above the door.

“Eeyup,” Big Mac said, looking grateful that his hooves were once again on solid ground. The building itself was shorter than its neighbors. “Rat’s Nest.”

“I hate it already.” Sirius growled.

“I guess every town needs a low-class drinking hole,” Remus said as Sirius opened the door, exposing the dingy interior. 

An earth pony mare who dwarfed Big Macintosh stopped them. "What do you want?"

Remus said, "We're come to take that stallion whose head is stuck in the ceiling."

In a corner of the room a pair of mares were plying the stallion in question with drinks. One snarled, "Hey! We saw him first!"

Sirius said, "You don't understand, he's an Earth unicorn."

The other mare said, "He's still a stallion, and he's ours."

Discord held up his lion's paw. "You know, I could just . . ."

Sirius shook his head. "He's a human world unicorn, so he's a human responsibility."

Discord shrugged. "If you say so." He snapped his fingers. The men now found themselves alone with the crowd.

The bouncer said, "Wait. Are you human stallions?"

Charlie replied, "Yes, but . . ."

The bartender screamed, "Fresh meat! Every mare for herself!"

Outside the bar, Discord buffed his claws while the thestral mare and Big Macintosh looked at the window, concerned. The sounds of struggle were clearly audible, and they were even more so when the window was smashed open by flying furniture. After several minutes, flashes of light were followed by unnatural stillness. The hunters, walked out, bruised, battered, but triumphant. Behind them, they floated a stupefied unicorn stallion. Discord smirked as he looked down. The men were conspicuously pantless. 

“I can’t believe you managed to stun a unicorn with one spell.” Bill said. “I think you broke a record with that shot.”

“He’s thoroughly pissed; easy target.” Remus shrugged. 

Sirius growled, at Discord as he passed. "Not a word. Not one word."

“I have just got to say something about you being seriously exposed.” Discord said.

“I have only met you,” Remus said. “but I can already tell that you are marauders material.”

Severus suppressed a groan at the thought. 

“Wait!” Sirius exclaimed. “Molly only banned us from owling mares, doesn’t Discord have another method of transport available?”

“I sense an intriguing idea forming.” Discord smiled.

“Save the pranks for later.” Dan said. “Right now it’s family time.”

“Agreed.” Discord’s smile turned wicked. “Family now, pranks later. I can hardly wait.”
> Chapter 95: Shades of Auld Lang Syne
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The holiday revelry at the Sleepy Saguaro Sanitorium had ended at an early hour in deference to its residents' needs and general lack of vitality. In the gaily decorated common room, a gilded cage was perched on the top shelf of a bookcase. Inside, a rat watched morosely as three mares cleaned the remnants of the party. The gray mare set down her broom when she reached the refreshment table. Using tongs, she picked up a shortbread cookie and slipped it between the cage's bars.

The rat sniffed the treat and turned away. The mustard-colored mare faced him and said, "Don't look so glum, Peter. You've brought more happiness to our clients than you can imagine.”

The rat huffed and turned away. The tawny-colored mare added, "We know your kind doesn't have feelings like ponies do, but we're thankful for all your help."

The gray mare set the tongs down and said, "We couldn't decide what an immortal demon would want, so we got you something for your smaller form."

Peter's ears perked as he turned to face the mare. He watched as she reached under the table and pulled out a cardboard box. She tugged away the string and lifted the lid. The sides fell away to reveal a large, transparent ball with slots cut in it for ventilation.

The tawny mare rolled it away from the packaging and opened its door.

The mustard-colored mare brought the cage to the floor and opened the door. As the rat stepped out, someone pounded on the door and yelled, "Peter Pettigrew! You're surrounded! Come out with your hands up!"

The mares shoot startled looks in the direction of the door while the rat displayed its survival instincts. With nary a sound, it scampered into a nearby closet. Displaying the dexterity of his kind, he squeezed behind a wooden crate. The time had come to see whether or not the mares had kept their promise. After a quick search, he pressed along the baseboard, causing a spring-loaded door to swing open. He heard a multitude of hooves, far more than the comfortable three sets, reverberating from the room he had just left. If it weren’t for his rodent mouth, he would have smirked as he stumbled through the concealed doorway onto a toy railcar. As he longed for an engineer's cap, Peter pushed a lever, causing his ride to plunge down the tracks, revealing abandoned diamond dog tunnels below. Phosphorescent lamps flashed by as he sped along toward the outskirts of town and safety. After a several minutes, the car crested a small hill and came to a gentle stop.

Peter stepped out and breathed a sigh of relief. In the eerie green glow of the lamps, he could see there was food, water, and bedding, enough for several days. Were it not for the damned necklace, he'd have eaten his fill and snuck onto the next train headed anywhere. Now, however, he was compelled to wait.

He had not even settled into the bedding before he started to glow and rise into the air. His panicked squeak was the only response he could manage as he found himself trapped in a telekinetic field. A unicorn stepped from the shadows and said, "Happy Hearth's Warming, you dirty rat. The princesses would like a word with you."





In the barn at Sweet Apple Acres, the feral unicorn lay on a bed of straw, covered by a robust attempt at earning a blanket knitting cutie mark. Magah watched him with concern as she lay beside him. The scent of poison on his breath was all too clear. She cringed yet again as she felt the bass thump of another powerful explosion. Only the reassurances of the foals kept her from fleeing -- well, that and the fact she had gotten used to hearing occasional explosions on the telly. The stallion, by contrast, lay still, oblivious in his stupor. Thankfully, the explosions were growing farther apart.

When the barn door opened, the mare turned toward the sound of hoofbeats as her ward entered with a large bundle held in a green glow. The yellow foal beside her carried a bucket in her mouth while the orange foal hovered along, carrying a blanket in her forehooves.

The white foal said, "Scootaloo, make sure you tuck her in."

The orange foal rolled her eyes as she draped the blanket over Magah. "Yes, mom."

The yellow foal set the bucket in front of the stallion. She said, "I still don't see why you won't let Professor Snape handle this, Sweetie Belle. He's an expert with potions."

The white foal replied, "Potions for humans, Apple Bloom. We already know that human magic doesn't work that well on these unicorns."

The orange foal grumbled, "Why don't we just use a necklace and turn him into a human? That way, everyone'll be happy."

Shaking her head, the yellow foal replied, "He'd freeze out here. Big Mac won't let 'im in the house."

The white foal set the bundle down and unwrapped it. It held a large bottle of vile-smelling liquid and a syringe. The foal said, "This is Berry Punch's patented hangover cure. All we have to do now is to get him to drink it."

Everypony cringed when they were rocked by another explosion. The yellow foal said, "Maybe we should wait until the excitement dies down."

The white foal walked to Magah and nuzzled her. "We'll be back. Keep him out of trouble."

Magah sighed as she watched the three climb onto the loft.





On the roof of the barn. the snow had been cleared away, and a makeshift viewing platform had been set up. As they lay on blankets, the Cutie Mark Crusaders had a clear view of the smoldering farmhouse. Its roof had been peeled back like the flaps on a carton. A whoosh announced the launch of another shell, and a moment later, a multi-colored explosion filled the sky.

With a pop and a flash of light, a draconequus appeared in their midst. He said, "When the Marauders said they were going to raise the roof, I didn't think they meant it literally."

As one, the foals chorused, "Discord!"

After watching a few more displays from pyromaniac wizards Apple Bloom said, "Thanks again fer sendin' us all to magic school."

“Yeah,” Scootaloo added, "I never would have gotten my wings, or my mom, otherwise."

Sweetie Belle tapped her chin with her hoof before she asked, "We made it home. Does that mean our quest is over?"

Discord replied, sporting a familiar navy blue hairdo with a pink stripe. Somehow, he had acquired a scroll and quill. He studied the paper and checked a few boxes. "Well, you have completed your first set of objectives. Extra marks for the side quests. Carry the two. Divide by pie. Peach cobbler. Yes, a good start if I do say so myself."

“A good start?” Apple Bloom snorted, "After that Fenrir business, Ah feel like we could take on the world . . . worlds."

With a sad smile, Discord replied, "Confidence is good, but as my personal student Jean-Luc would tell you, hubris is bad. There is much more out in the worlds than you might imagine. I have to admit, you have the spunk to meet most challenges; just try not to get too cocky.”





In the bowels of Canterlot Castle, a single chair sat in front of a table; a spotlight focused on it. On the other side of the table, Xenophilius and Arthur fidgeted in their wingback chairs while Celestia sat serenely on a simple throne. Behind them, the tools of interrogation hung from pegs on the wall, lovingly bathed in gentle lighting. It was an impressive collection of feathers whose sole purpose was to tickle select ponies.

Well used to apparition the men barely raised an eyebrow when the crack of displaced air announced the arrival of princess of the night. In her telekinesis, she held a horseshoe box with holes punched in the sides and top. Unceremoniously, she removed the lid and tipped out the contents. It was a sad sight of a rat that tumbled out and landed on its back, eyes shut and tongue lolling.

"It's just a rat." Celestia quirked an eyebrow at the supine form. "A rat who thinks he’s a possum.”

Luna replied, "Not just any rat, sister. Allow us to introduce the late Peter Pettigrew."

Celestia said, "He's not dead. I can see his chest move as he breaths."

The Minister shrugged, "The records say otherwise." His eyes narrowed as he glared at the rat. "How could you do that to all those widows?" he snarled.

Arthur grimaced. "How could you do all those widows? Half were old enough to be your grandmother."

The rat continued his non-response.

Luna said, "Peace, gentlestallions. We have questioned some of the cur’s unwitting wives, and we can attest that, for the most part, he was acting under duress. Aside from the issue of his immigration status, we are satisfied that he has paid for all known crimes committed on Equestrian soil."

Xenophilius gave the princess a side glance, "But he targeted those widows."

Luna shook her head. "It was under their guidance that these acts were sanctioned. He was mistaken for an incubus and thus was employed as a service animal."

Arthur said, "Be that as it may, there is still the matter of the murders of James and Lily Potter, Harry's parents. I implore you to release him into our custody so that we may seek justice."

Celestia shook her head. "We are judged by how we treat the worst among us. So long as you employ the wendigos, I cannot do that in good conscience."

Luna looked at the rat and declared, "We know thou are cognizant. Return to thy human form so that thou may speak in thy defense. If thou persist in thy foalishness we shall see judgement swiftly dealt."

The rat continued his non-response.

Luna said, "Very well, thy time has expired. Legilimens!"

For Luna, the room faded, and she found herself confronting a basalt wall. She quirked an eyebrow at the rough-hewn inscription that dominated the obstacle. "When the night walks the worlds and the minds of men, remember: STEP FORWARD. Four on fifteen."

Luna snorted; this was not in the same league as Honesty’s stallion. With contempt, she strode ahead, passing through the wall like a ghost. On the other side, a balding man in a black robe confronted her. He said, "Begone, horse! You do not belong here!"

Calmly, Luna replied, "Peter Pettigrew, we are here to seek truth and judge thy guilt. Thou refused to speak for thyself; thus, your mind is ours to explore."

Peter sneered. "You have no power over me. I am protected by the forces of darkness." Proudly, he let the sleeve fall back from a forearm, revealing a mark on his arm, obviously the standard of his master.

Luna smirked, "We are the night. Thy protections hold no power over us." With those words, she leapt into his forehead, vanishing like a wisp of smoke.

Inside, she waded through his memories going in reverse order. Stoically, she struggled to keep her emotions in check, swearing herself to chastity. With each glimpse of his past, the grim frown she wore darkened. Her disgust at his voyeuristic activities did little to endear the human to her sensibilities. Searching even deeper, she saw the one he obeyed. She saw the ones he betrayed. Thanking the new skills she had collected from the human books, she decided she had seen enough.

Fading back into the real world, Luna blinked and looked at Celestia and the men. She said, "Under the cover of friendship, he hath sold the very lives of Harry Potter and kin to the one who did them harm. What now, sister?"

Celestia replied, "We shall hold him in custody tonight. There is other business that must be concluded first." Underneath her throne, her aura gripped a wrapped package. Inside was an ancient tome. On its cover was a design that matched Cadance's cutie mark.





In the frozen wastes of the north, crevasses opened where there had once been solid sheets of ice. Although the pace was glacial, there was no denying the change. Anypony nearby would have felt a deep sense of foreboding. There was something evil there, something evil and powerful. What was lurking beneath was working its way free. It was only a matter of time.





Professor Dumbledore woke to find himself in an uncomfortable position. His head was free, but the rest of his body seemed to be trapped in some sort of gel. Waiting patiently for him was the woman in the page's costume. The spade symbol on her chest had been replaced by a red heart. She sneered at him and said, "All rise for the Pink Queen!"

Six men in porter's uniforms carried in a palanquin and set it down in front of Dumbledore. Without words, they took away the canopies and walls, revealing a preternaturally beautiful woman sitting on an ornate throne. A simple silver tiara rested atop her tri-colored tresses, and she was clothed in an Elizabethan dress with a large red heart on its chest. Anger filled her eyes as she said, "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you stand accused of the willful and continued abuse of Harry James Potter. What do you have to say in your defense?"

Unable to move, Dumbledore took a moment to compose himself. He said, "You have me at a disadvantage. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

The woman replied, "I am judge and jury. What other roles I may play depends on your answer. Speak the truth and be judged."

Dumbledore sighed. "I have acted, and shall always act for the greater good. There is an evil that threatens to destroy the wizarding world, and it will drag the muggle world with it."





Pink was his new obsession. Try as he might, he could not escape it. He rued the loss of Macnair; the man was almost competent. He had already anticipated that he would lose Quirrell after their separation. That left him with only one ally at hand, the one the locals called faras nahr. To his regret, her choice of decor left no doubt that pink was her favorite color, and he now seamlessly blended in.

He still could not believe the incompetence of his minions. The only good thing he could say about the fiasco was that he again had his own body, such as it was. Admittedly, it was a relief to be able to breathe again, to taste again, to walk again. That relief was tempered by the body in which he was now trapped. He was Voldemort, Lord of Darkness. He was supposed to be tall. He was supposed to be menacing. He was supposed to be male. Now, he found himself the size of a lapdog. Now, he found himself with the might of a kitten. Now, he was constantly conscious that he lacked the proper set of plumbing.

His screams of outrage had come out as adorable squeaks. There was no denying that he was now a little horse; the mirror did not lie. Those useless hooves could not wield a wand. Using his mouth would prevent him from uttering the incantations. For now, he had to endure the idiot's constant cooing. He didn't even have the strength to shake out the braids in his mane and tail.

His original plan had been foolproof. The stone had been there for his taking. The old man might have thought that his defenses were impregnable, but if a gaggle of first-years barely into the term could break in, disabling the first obstacle, then they would have been no obstacle for a fully-trained wizard like the late, unlamented Quirrell. If only he had acted sooner.

Someone was going to pay for disrupting his plans. He didn't care if he had to cast the cruciatus curse on every single person on the planet. He would make sure that the ones responsible would feel the full weight of his wraith. All would learn to fear the name of Voldemort.

He knew just where he wanted to start. That upstart Discord had cowed his former host into abandoning his original plan. That interloper would be no match for the flaying spell that would strip every square inch of skin from his body. His screams would prove that no one could match the power of the Dark Lord.

Just as soon as he got a proper body.

The worst part of the mess was that the sole survivor was not a true believer; she did not bear the Dark Mark. Likewise, his new body was also pristine; it was something that should be in a little girl's bedroom, not hosting the one who would conquer the wizarding world. He had no way to call his followers; there had to be some who had survived the massacre at the Wizengamot.

For now, he would have to start from scratch. All he needed was time. With the gift of immortality, he could afford to proceed carefully. The pieces of himself that he had left hidden throughout the kingdom would keep him firmly rooted in the mortal coil. He had all the time in the world. He would plan. He would prepare. When all was ready, he would strike. No one would be able to stop him.





On an isolated island, a small figure stood motionless, facing the direction of the threat he was committed to counter. He knew it was dormant. He knew it was trapped. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was not quite right.





In the suffocating darkness, he lay alone with his thoughts. How had things come to this? This was worse than the centuries he had spent as a lowly beetle. In that form, he had a purpose. In that form, he could see the slow and steady progress toward his return to glory. The interloper had taken all of that away.

Even with that setback, he still had a clear path to victory. He had groomed the perfect patsy. She had amassed the mana he needed to resurrect his body. He had summoned it to his current form. Something had gone wrong.

There had been a ripple across the world well. He had felt his connection to his body shatter. He had felt the link with the past disintegrate.

With the link severed, he should have ceased to exist. Somehow, that same ripple denied him the release of death. That same ripple left him trapped in his current form.

In this form, he could not move. In this form, he could not see. In this form, he could not hear. All he could do was exist, stingily hoarding the infinitesimal measure of mana that was left over after he had absorbed what was needed to sustain himself. He could not even will himself out of existence. It was sheer torture.

His sacrifice was lost to him. The girl had made her own magic. Any attempt to seize it would be roundly rebuffed.

The mother was there, somewhere. He could barely detect her presence, and it grew fainter with every passing moment. Surely, it would fade completely in a fortnight. Thankfully, she was no longer a drain on his mana reserves.

He had no other options. For now, all he could do was wait.





As another firework faded, Apple Bloom said, "Ah don't understand. What sort of difference are you talking about?"

The draconequus smiled. "Once you know what you are capable of doing, you will know that there are things that you cannot do. You will learn that no matter how much you know, there will always be something that you don't know. Never believe that you've mastered everything. The real quest is just beginning."





In a dusty storage room, somewhere in a respectable museum, sat a box. It contained a curious artifact, the purpose of which had never been divined. The fact that it was made of gold and gems had categorized it as art, albeit art that was atypical for the region and timeframe of its creation. Too valuable to dispose of and too abnormal to display, it sat in storage, seeing the light of day only when curious academics unearthed it to marvel at its uniqueness.

On its surface was a cracked gem.

Still, it had purpose.

Still, it was part of a plan.

Chaos could play the long game.

It was not the sole wielder of that skill.

After much retreating, Fate took a step forward.
> Book Two Has Been Posted
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello everyone, I would like to announce the posting of the first chapter of book two.

https://www.fimfiction.net/story/477026/hazy-days-and-magical-ways